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a-room-of-my-own · 3 years ago

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A while before the latest hoo-ha about Judith Butler, I had just been reading her again. Though she claims her critics have not read her, this simply isn’t the case. I read Gender Trouble when it first came out and it was important at the time . That time was long,long ago. She was just one of the many ‘post-structuralist’ thinkers I was into. I would trip off to see Luce Irigaray or Derrida whenever they appeared.

I got an interview with Baudrillard and tried to sell it to The Guardian but they didn’t know who he was so its fair to say I was fairly immersed in that world of theory. For a while, I had a part time lecturing job so I had to keep on top of it. Though Butler’s idea of gender as performance was not new , it was interesting. RuPaul said it so much more clearly in a quote nicked from someone else “Honey ,we are born naked, the rest is drag”

What I was looking for again , I guess is not any clarity – her writing is famously and deliberately difficult- but whether there was ever any sense of the material body. She wrote herself in 2004 “I confess however I am not a very good materialist. Every time I try to write about the body, the writing ends up being about language” .

Butler from on high ,cannot really think about the body at all which is why they (Butler’s chosen pronoun) are now the high priestess of a particular kind of trans ideology. The men who worship Butler are not versed in high theory. The fox botherer had a “brain swoon” at some very ordinary things Butler said. Mr Right Side of history nodded along in an interview. Clearly neither of these men are versed in any of this philosophy and would be better off sticking to tax law and the decline of the Labour Party. Butler is simply a totem for them.

Butler said in the Guardian interview for instance “Gender is an assignment that does not just happen once: it is ongoing. We are assigned a sex at birth and then a slew of expectations follow which continue to “assign” gender to us.”

So yeah? That’s a fairly basic view of the social construction of gender though I take issue with the assigned at birth thing ,which I will come back to and why I started reading her again in the first place.

This phrase “Assigned sex at birth” is now common parlance but simply does not make sense to me. I am living with someone who is pregnant. I have given birth three times and been a birthing partner. I know where babies come from. There is a deep disconnect here between language and reality which no amount of academic jargon can obliterate.

Babies come from bodies. Not any bodies but bodies that have a uterus. They grew inside a woman’s body until they get pushed out or dragged out into the world.

The facts of life that we are now to be liberated from in the form of denial. Only one sex can have babies but we must now somehow not say that. The pregnant “people” of Texas will now be forced into giving birth to children they don’t want because they are simply “host bodies”. The language of patriarchal supremacy and that of some of the trans ideologues is remarkably close, as is their biological ignorance.

There is no foetal heatbeat at six weeks for instance. When a baby is born , doctors and midwives do not randomly assign a sex, they observe it and they do it though genitalia.

There is a question over a tiny percentage of babies ,less that one percent with DSDs but even then they are sexed with doctors having difficult conversations with parents about what may happen later.

Somehow, though when I read the way in which this is now all discussed it is clear to me that the people talking have never been pregnant, never had a foetal scan, never been near a birth , never miscarried, do not understand that even with a still birth babies are still sexed and often named.

If you want to know the sex of your baby you can pay privately and know at 7 weeks ((*49-56 days from the first day of the mother’s last menstrual cycle). A 12 week scan will show it. That is why so many female foetuses are aborted . I have reported on this.

Talking to paediatricians about this is interesting because they do indeed have to think through these things that we are being told are not real eg. that sex is just a by-product of colonialism for instance. Sometimes pre-conception , geneticists will be looking at chromosomes because certain diseases are more likely in men or women. Males have a higher risk of haemophilia for instance.

One doctor told me “When babies are premature, the survival advantage of females over males is well known throughout neonatology. This is sometimes something we talk about with parents when there is threatened premature labour around 23 weeks' gestation and options to discuss about resuscitation and medical interventions. In fertility treatment (or counselling around fertility in the context of medical treatments) it is pretty inherent to know whether we need to plan around sperm, or ova + pregnancy.”

She also said that if she involved in a birth that “assigning” isn’t the word she world use. “Observed genitals a highly reliable observation, just like measuring weight or head circumference which is also done at this time. “ Another doctor said that anyone involved with a trans man giving birth would be doing the best for the patient in front of them.

Sex then is biological fact. A female baby will have all the eggs she will ever have when she is first born which is kind of amazing. It is not bio-essentialist to say that our sexed bodies are different nor is it transphobic to recognise it.

Except of course in my old newspaper ,The Guardian who are now so hamstrung by their own ideology they have got their knickers in such a twist they can barely walk. They completely misreported the WiSpa incident , basically ignored the Sonia Appleby judgement at the Tavistock. Appleby was a whistle blower ,a respected professional concerned with safe guarding. She won her case. The cherry on the cake this week was an interview with Butler, themselves (?) in which they went on about Terfs being fascists and needing to extend the category of women.

Does anyone EVER stop to think that most gender critical women are of the left, supporters of gay rights, often lesbian and that this is not America? We are not in bed with the far right. This is bollocks. Just another way to dismiss us.

As we watch Afghanistan and Texas ,to say Butler’s words were tone deaf is to say the least. But they didn’t even have the guts to keep the most offensive stuff in the piece and overnight edited it out without really explaining why : the bits where Butler described gender critical people as fascist. Perhaps because the person their “reporters” had defended against transphobia at WiSpa turned out to be a known sex offender, perhaps because someone pointed out that Butler was throwing around the word fascist rather like Rik Mayall used to do in the Young Ones.

All of this is rather desperate and readers deserve better. When I left that newspaper I said that I thought and expected editors to stand up for their writers in public. Instead they go into some catatonic paralysis. I may have not liked this interview but it should never have been cut. Stand by what you publish or your credibility is shot.

But this is about more than Judith Butler and their refusal to support women . Butler is not really any kind of feminist at all. What this is about is the large edifice of trans ideology crumbling when any real analysis is applied. Yes, I have read Shon Faye’s book and there are some interesting points in it and I totally agree that the lives of trans people should be easier and health care better . I have never said anything but that.

What Faye does in the book is say that there can be no trans liberation under capitalism so there will be a bit of a wait I suspect.

Yet surely it is the other way round and what we are seeing is that trans ideology (not trans people – I am making a distinction here ) represent the apex of capitalism .

For it means that the individual decides their own gendered essence and then spends a fortune on surgery and a lifetime on medication to achieve the appearance of it. Of course lots of people spend a lifetime on medication but not out of choice. Marx understood very well that the abolition of our system of production would free up women.

Now it is all about freeing up men. Who say they are women. Quelle surprise.

Nussbaum’s famous take down of Butler is premised exactly on the sense of individual versus collective struggle “ The great tragedy in the new feminist theory in America is the loss of a sense of public commitment. In this sense, Butler’s self-involved feminism is extremely American, and it is not surprising that it has caught on here, where successful middle-class people prefer to focus on cultivating the self rather than thinking in a way that helps the material condition of others. “

Such thinking now dominates academia. There is simply an unquestioning rehearsal of something most of know not to be true thus Amia Srinivasan writes in The Right to Sex “At birth, bodies are sorted as ‘male’ or ‘female’, though many bodies must be mutilated to fit one category or the other, and many bodies will later protest against the decision that was made. This originary division determines what social purpose a body will be assigned.”

What does ‘sorted’ mean here? A tiny number of intersex babies are born. A tiny number of people are trans and decide to change their bodies. The feminist demand to challenge gender norms without mutilating any one’s body no longer matters. What matters now is this retrograde return to some gendered soul. This is not something any decent Marxist would have any truck with . Of course one may change over a lifetime and of course gender is never ‘settled.’ We are complex people who inhabit bodies that often don’t work or appear as we want them to.

But not only is there a denial of basic Marxism going on here , what becomes ever more apparent is that there is a denial of motherhood. Butler said “Yet gender is also what is made along the way – we can take over the power of assignment, make it into self-assignment, which can include sex reassignment at a legal and medical level.”

Self-assignment is key . One may birth oneself. No longer of woman born but self -made. This is a theoretical leap but it also one that has profound implications for women as a sex class. We are really then, just the host bodies to a new breed of people who self-assign.

Maybe that is the future although look around the word and there isn’t a lot of self-assignment going on. There are simply women shot and beaten in the street, choked to death or having their rights taken away. There is no identifying out of this , there is no fluidity here . This is not discourse. It is brutality and do we not have some responsibility to other women to confront male violence ?

Instead the hatred is aided and abetted by so called philosophers describing other women as Terfs. It is utterly depressing.

The sexed body. The pregnant body. The dying body. The body is in trouble when we can’t talk about it . I thought of Margaret Mary O’Hara’s beautiful and strange lyrics and what they might mean. I await my child’s return from the hospital as hers is a difficult pregnancy and thank god they are on the case. The sex of the child she carries does not matter to me at all .

It simply exists. Not in language but within a body.

Why is that so difficult to acknowledge?

#gender critical #feminism #transgender #judith butler #suzanne moore

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atlatus · 4 years ago

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Disease

Character: Xiao

Pronouns: They/them

Post type: Angst

The green haired man opens his eyes to an unfamiliar scenery. He was on the ground, trees covering his surroundings, he can't seem to remember how he got here. Pushing himself up with his arms, he stands up, walking towards the crowd of trees.

While walking through the forest, he finally sees light. The adeptus runs towards it, arriving to see unusual contraptions¹ that he has never seen before. He furrows his eyebrows, 'Where am I? What is this place?' Due to his unusual appearance and clothing, a bystander unsurprisingly notices him. "Excuse me sir, are you perhaps lost?" He turns around, his eyes narrowing, "Who are you?" They're eyes widen, "Oh, sorry! I haven't introduced myself. My name's (F/N)." They smile.

He looks at them suspiciously, ". . . . My name is Xiao." (F/N)'s eyes widen a bit before smiling, "What a nice name! Won't you come with me? It's a bit cold out tonight." They propose. Though the adeptus is cautious, he nods. They giggle, holding out their hand, "Now, let's get you somewhere warm."

After about 2 weeks with Xiao, you decided to try and convince your parents to get him into to your school. Even though you're quite calm most of the time, you were determined to convince them. Your parents sigh before nodding, beaming with excitement, you rush to the guest room. Knocking on the door frantically, Xiao opens it, clearly agitated. "What do you want?" You smile, "Hey hey! You're going to my school now!"

He furrows his eyebrows, "I don't see the reason for me to go to school." Pushing the door the close it but you caught it with your foot, "C'mon~, it won't be that bad." You say. He rolls his eyes sighing before nodding. Your heart beats with excitement.

Xiao's first day in school has finally arrived, wearing different clothes made him itch a bit. He's isn't used to this type of attire.

Looking up at the school, surprised at the size of it. His face made you giggle a bit, "Alright, let's go." They both walk up to the entrance, you open the door for him. He narrows his eyes a bit before continuing on through the hallway. Immediately, people started noticing him, some observing his face while others looked more shocked.

'Hey doesn't that guy look like that character in Genshin?'

'Is he a cosplayer or something?'

'I have to take a picture with him!'

'Oh my god, he looks so cute!'

The whispering got louder and louder, 'Why is everyone staring at me like that?' Finally arriving to his classroom, you both enter. The sound of the door opening got the attention of everyone, the teacher looked over at the door, "Ah, you must be the new student! I'm Mr. Johnson, I'll be your teacher this school year!"

Xiao looked uneasy and uncomfortable, you quickly pat him on the back before sending him a reassuring smile, quietly telling him "It'll be alright."

"Now, would you mind introducing yourself?" The green haired man nods a bit before saying, "My name is Xiao, it's a pleasure to meet you." Some people in the classroom start whispering to their friends, "Oh my god, no way is it actually him?" "How did he even get here?" They were beaming with excitement.

"Well, nice to meet you Xiao! Why don't you sit next to your friend there. They sit at the corner seat over there." You smile before guiding him to where you're sitting. The teacher quickly quiets the class down before starting the lesson.

Xiao unsurprisingly got popular, many people would crowd around him to either talk to him, ask to hang out, or take pictures. He was quickly overwhelmed with the attention but got used to it after a few days. He started gaining friends fast and wasn't able to be with you anymore. Though you are glad he's happy, you can't brush off the feeling in the pit of your stomach. It feels like thorns poking in your chest and throat. You despised it. Not only did it hurt, but it made you feel like throwing up.

Everyday, you miss his conversations with you. Watching from afar with jealousy evident in your eyes. It's the same cycle everyday, people crowding him when you both arrive to the school. He

doesn't even look at you anymore. You feel like a ghost, no one acknowledging your existence, you're basically just. . . there.

One day, the urge to throw up made you lurch forward, putting a hand on your lips. You stand up quickly before running to the restroom. Kneeling down in front of the toilet, you throw up the, coughing and gagging. You look in the toilet bowl, eyes suddenly going wide. 'Flowers? What the hell-' Panic quickly flows through your body, 'What is this? Am I gonna die?' You reach for your phone in your pocket, searching up 'throwing up flowers'. The first result is something called the Hanahaki Disease. The article states that, "Hanahaki disease is a disease where the victim of unrequited or one-sided love begins to vomit or cough up the petals and flowers of a flowering plant growing in their lungs, which will eventually grow large enough to render breathing impossible if left untreated." Your eyes scan through the article again, 'Unrequited or one-sided love?' You start to panic again, 'I won't be able to breath if this is untreated?' Your breathing becomes uneven and shaky, your expression suddenly turns into one that's sad, 'Does this mean Xiao. . . doesn't like me back?. . .'

Looking at the article again, you see 'cures for the disease', "Hanahaki can be cured through surgical removal of the plants' roots, but this excision also has the effect of removing the patient's capacity for romantic love. It may also erase the patient's feelings for and memories of the enamoured. It can also be cured by the reciprocation of the victim's feelings. These feelings cannot be feelings of friendship but must be feelings of genuine love."

'I can get them surgically removed, but, what's the point? I'll lose my feelings for him. I don't want to. I like it when my heart thumps whenever he smiles, or whenever he pouts in embarrassment due to a teasing comment from me. I don't.. I don't want these feelings to end.'

The ongoing thought of you losing your feelings for him made you cringe. '

Is it too late?'

Throughout a month, the condition only got worse. Throwing up these petals made you feel sick, it feels like God is planning to take your life right then and there. Xiao doesn't even talk to you anymore, you see him in the house sometimes but he's outside most of the time. The disease affected your mental and physical health, you were noticeably skinny and tired. The bags under your eyes proved it. Your parents have tried to talk to you about it but, you refuse to say anything.

The desire to keep feeling love made you like this. Your grades have dropped and now you lost all your friends, they're all too caught up with Xiao. At this point, you gave up on getting help. This whole situation will end when you die. You plan to talk to Xiao once more before you pass.

Two months. . .

It's been two months now. . .

The condition worsened greatly. Flower petals littered your room. You looked sickly, almost like a dead body. Well, that's what you're going to be in a couple days. . .

Using all your strength, you lift yourself up. "Need. . to go. . talk to. . Xiao." Right now, Xiao was with his friends. Luckily, you slipped a note in his locker the day before-

Meet me on top of hill tomorrow at 5:30 p.m.

- Sincerely, (F/N)

You had followed him when he opened his locker, he shrugged before stuffing the note into his backpack. You hoped that he would listen to it. If he doesn't show up today, you'll die happily knowing he is happy without you. His happiness is more important than your feelings or life.

You arrived at the hill. Looking at your watch, '5:15. Guess I'm early.' You sit down on top of it, looking at the sun slowly setting.

After a few minutes, you hear footsteps. Turning around, you see Xiao, his face neutral and calm. He then sat beside you, "So, what did you need?" He asks. You look back at the sun before smiling, "Have you enjoyed your time here?" Though your throat is aching, you still managed to say something.

He seems confused, "Of course I have. I've never been this

happy. ." Knowing he's happy made you feel relieved. To think that you found him in front of a forest, confused and cautious. It almost made you tear up.

"I'm happy that you are, Xiao."

You both stay silent, "Xiao, before I go, whatever happens after, promise me you'll be happy. I can't stand seeing you with a frown." You say with a raspy voice.

". . .Of course."

You find yourself laying on a hospital bed. You try to move but your body is too sore. Your ears perked up to muffled talking, "I'm sorry sir, ma'am but the kid is going to be gone soon. The Hanahaki disease already clogged up most of the patients lungs. We can either surgically remove it or-" The doctor was quickly cut off, "Surgically remove it! Please save them! Just remove the damn flowers, please!" You heard your mom scream.

"Ma'am, we have to get the patients consent. Removing the flowers will cause the patients enamored feelings for their-" The doctor was cut off once again, "I don't care anymore! Just please, save my kid!"

The argument was ongoing before you stored up all your strength and spoke, "M-mom. . . I don't want my. . . feelings to go. . . away." Your voice was barely audible, but they heard it. Your mom rushes over to your bed (despite the doctors warnings), "(F/N)! Don't be like that! Your life is more important!"

Tears start welling up your mom's eyes, "Please don't leave us. . ."

You stare at her before smiling, "It's okay mom, besides-" You cough, "It's already. . . too late." Despair was evident in your mothers face.

"Oh and. . . before I go. . . tell Xiao to stay happy. . . and that I love him."

The lights started to go dim, eyes slowly closing before your slow breathing stopped-

Permanently.

Your funeral was held at a nearby cemetery. Your coffin was the color brown, a glass covering the top of it so they could see you. Xiao was there, staring at your face. When he got the news that you died, his world fell apart. He thought this was just some sick joke, but the body in the coffin proved him wrong. He could faintly see flower petals near your mouth.

Your funeral and seeing your body is what made Xiao cry and scream out in agony and sadness. "No No NO! (F/N) don't leave me!! Please tell me this is a joke please! (F/N)! I love you please don't leave!"

He prayed and prayed that you would wake up. . .

But his prayers weren't heard.

One week after your funeral, Xiao's whole demeanor changed. He was a calm boy who would speak only when spoken to. But now, he doesn't speak. He ignores all his friends, he ignores your parents, he ignores everyone. He stays cooped up in your room. Sleeping on your bed and smelling your scent that lingers on it. Oh how he misses talking to you, your bright smile was what made him feel alive.

He was laying on your bed one day (as usual) and for some reason, he felt a bit sick. He brushed it off thinking it would go away in a few hours. But it only got worse.

He rushes to the bathroom then looks at the mirror. He looks terrible, bags under his eyes and skin looking a bit pale. He suddenly lurches forward, coughing and gagging.

He looks down and laughs a bit. Petals, beautiful petals covered in blood.

Looks like he's going to suffer with this disease as well. . .

Unusual contraptions¹ - cars

#xiao x reader #genshin impact #gender neutral reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #bitter angst #isekai

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just-dreaming-marvel · 4 years ago

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Love and Medicine ~ 14

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 5,000ish

Summary: Just another day at the medical center, right? (Based off Grey’s Anatomy)

Heading back into the hospital, you went straight for Natasha’s room. The other interns were already in there, surrounding her bed.

“Hey,” you smiled, walking over to her. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” she responded. “I’m okay.”

You grabbed her hand and gave it a slight squeeze. She needed to know that you were there for her, but you weren’t going to push her into talking about something she wasn’t ready to talk about.

~~~

You slammed down a shot, needing to feel the alcohol rush down your throat.

“How was Nat when you left, Scott?” Val asked, bringing more drinks over.

“She said she was okay, again,” he responded with a slight shrug.

“Nobody goes what she went through and is totally over it by now.”

“Natasha can.”

“She’s fine,” you added, taking another shot.

“Too fine,” Val said. “She’s cold.”

“No, she’s hardcore,” Clint said. “She’s got ice in her veins. She does what she has to do to get through it.”

“She lost a baby. She lost a fallopian tube and she’s acting like she doesn’t even care. She’s acting like she has no emotions or warmth, like she’s missing a soul.”

“She’s gonna make a great surgeon.”

“Clint!”

“It’s true. You show no weakness, you make it to the top.”

“Some people just keep their feelings to themselves,” you commented.

Your eyes were on the door, where Steve had just walked in. If he noticed you, he didn’t make it noticeable. You watched as he walked over to the bar and sat beside Gamora. Steve ordered a drink from Happy before talking to Gamora. Too bad you were too far away to hear them.

“Y/N kissed me,” Steve told Gamora. “Peggy kissed me… My wife and my girlfriend kissed me on the same day.”

“Happy, do I look friend to you?” Gamora asked.

“Oh, you’re a tiny little kitten of joy and love,” Happy responded, only for Gamora to make a face. “What? He saved my life.”

“His first mistake.” She took a sip of her drink. “Captain McDreamy, go sit by someone who cares.”

“Oh gee,” Steve mocks hurt, but doesn’t make a move to go. “Everything’s gonna be fine. Peggy will leave. Y/N and I will start over. Everything’s gonna be fine. Right?”

“You are so damn stupid.”

~~~

“With Natasha out, I need everyone focused today,” Gamora told her group of interns as you all headed off to rounds. “I have a feeling it’s gonna be be one of those days and since we’re short an intern, you do not want to get on my bad side.”

“When are we not on her bad side?” You whispered to Clint.

“Speak for yourself,” he replied with a scoff. “Scott and I are her favorites.”

The group walked into their first patients room. The woman was sitting on the bed, enthralling a group of hospital workers with a tell.

“So we're in the middle of the Belizean jungle and this jaguarondi jumps out and bites one of the guides,” the woman says. “They all look at me. They're yelling, "You're a doctor, help him!" This is one time a PhD does no good.” The people laugh.

“Sorry,” Gamora interrupted, “did I miss the memo about social hour?” Everyone quickly began leaving besides your group.

“Tales of missionary life,” the woman explained.

“You’re a missionary?” Val asked.

“No, my parents. We traveled a lot. Well, they still do.”

“Lang, tell me about our patient,” Gamora ordered.

“Okay, um, this is Dr. Banner’s patient, Talya,” Scott explained. “She, uh, presents with multiple syncopal episodes and ventricular arrhythmias.”

“So you’ve been passing out?” Gamora asked.

“Yeah,” Talya confirmed, “and having palpitations.”

“Talya has past medical history of rheumatic heart disease with mitral valve stenosis,” Scott added.

“They had to ship me from Zambia to the States for 3 months of treatment when I was 8,” Tayla said. “Rheumatic fever almost killed me.”

“Someone please tell me what the primary causes of ventricular arrhythmias are,” Gamora said.

Before anyone in the room could responded, Natasha appeared in the doorway. She leaned up against it in her hospital gown with her IV stand.

“Valvular disease, mitral valve prolapse, stimulants, drugs, and metabolic abnormalities,” Natasha answered.

“Out!” Gamora ordered.

“I’m fine.”

“Out! And you better be in your bed by the time we round on you!”

“And when will that be?”

“In 15 seconds. 14. 13. 13. 11.”

Natasha turned around to head to her room, revealing her underwear through her nightgown. The group of interned laughed.

“Nice panties, Romanoff!” Peter laughed.

Natasha flips him the bird as she keeps waking. “In your dreams, Quill.”

They followed Natasha into the room, where she huffed as she got back into bed.

“L/N,” Gamora called.

“Right,” you responded. “Natasha Romanoff. Post-op day 3 from a unilateral salpingectomy.”

“And ready to get back to work,” Natasha said. “I'm taking solids and my pain is controlled with oral meds. I'm ready.”

“Well, it says here on your chart on you had a fever?”

“Y/N,” Nat growled.

“Natasha, did you have a fever?” Gamora questioned.

“Temp spiked to 101 last night. Big deal.”

“She worked 2 shifts last month with a 102 degree flu,” Clint added.

“Yes! Exactly, Clint. Thank you.”

“And we appreciate your dedication but you're staying in bed until it normalizes,” Gamora said. “You need to relax, shut up, and get better. You're a patient this week so you can be a doctor next week. Understand?”

“I understand,” Natasha grumbled.

~~~

Rounds had finished as you were heading to your assignment when you ran into Steve near the elevators.

“Skipping rounds?” He wondered.

“No,” you replied. “They just finished.” You kept walking, when Steve took your arm to stop you.

“Y/N…”

“You’ve got a wife.”

“Yes.”

“You’re life is complicated.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t need more complicated. I have that all on my own.”

“Yes.”

“Stop saying yes.”

Steve smiled. “I’m trying not to make any sudden movements.”

“You think this is funny?”

“Peggy’s leaving. She doesn’t have any more patients. There’s no reason for her to be here.”

“No reason? Really?”

“No really whatsoever.”

Steve stepped closer, bringing his hand up to brush your cheek. You stood there, trying to not let it get to your head or, well, anywhere else. Suddenly, Peggy appeared.

“Well now, isn’t this cozy?” She said. “Can I join in or are you not into threesomes?”

“I have to go,” you said, rushing away. You didn’t go too far, interested to watch everything unfold.

“Y/N…” Steve called with a sign. He turned to Peggy. “You really are Satan. You realize that right? If Satan were to take physical form, he'd be you. Everywhere, all the time.”

“I am so not Satan,” Peggy responded.

“How come you haven't got on your broomstick and gone back to where you belong?”

“Stop being petty.”

“Stop being an adulterous bitch.”

“You know, you are going forgive me eventually, right? I mean you can't just ... I mean there was a time when you thought of me as your best friend.”

“There was a time where I thought you were the love of my life. Things change.”

Peggy sighed and pulled some papers out of her bag, handing them to Steve. Steve quickly flipped through them.

“Divorce papers,” he said.

“Your lawyer said they're ok. I haven't signed them yet. The ball's in your court. If you sign, I'll sign. I'll sign and be on the first plane out of here.”

“I'll sign them immediately. I want you out of here as soon as possible.”

“Steve, have you ever thought that, even if I am Satan and an adulterous bitch, that I still might be the love of your life?”

Not answering, Steve walks away, completely not noticing you listening in from behind a pillar.

“What are we looking at?” Tony asked, appearing out of nowhere.

“Ah!” You exclaimed, jumping slightly. “Don’t do that!” You playfully hit him. “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he laughed. “I just saw you over here and I was interested in seeing what you were observing.”

“I think… I think Peggy just handed Steve divorce papers.”

“Really? That actually surprises me. I thought she would put in a little more of a fight.”

“Yeah…”

“I guess that’s good news for you, right?”

“I guess.”

“You guess?”

“I want him to choose me because of me, not because of a divorce.”

“In my ever humble opinion, I think it will always be you. Trust me. That man is whipped.”

~~~

Natasha snuck out of her room and stole her chart. She sat in her bed as she made changes to it. Walking by, Banner looked in and noticed that no one else was in there. He quickly took the chart of Nat.

“Hey! That’s my chart,” Natasha complained.

“You're the patient. Not the doctor. Act like one,” Bruce reprimands as he studies her chart. “It's been tough finding you alone.”

“Yeah? Well…”

“How are you doing?”

“Well, you have my chart, you tell me.”

He sighed. “Natasha, how are you doing?”

“I’m fine. Perfectly okay.”

“I had a right to know.”

“Well, now you do.”

“Natasha—“

“Look. Now you know. It’s over. There’ soothing for you to deal with. So I don’t know what else there really is left to say.”

“Plenty. For starters you could've come to me—“

“And what? We could have raised it together? Or you could have held my hand when I got the abortion? I did not need any of that. I’m an intern.”

“Nat—“

“Can you just go? I need to rest. Doctor’s orders.”

~~~

Gamora called you to help her with a patient. You two walked into the patient room together, revealing a younger man on the bed.

“I thought I told you I never want to see you again,” Gamora said to the patient.

“That's only cause you're too lazy to learn anything more,” the man responded.

“Dr. Y/N L/N, this is Nick Tate. He thinks he knows so much cause he was one of my first patient's as an intern.”

“I knew as much as she did. She was clueless about how to treat cystic fibrosis. A simple cholecystectomy turned into a month-long stay.”

“Better not be alleging malpractice. Guy raises about a 100 grand a year for cystic fibrosis, running triathlons. Thinks he's a big shot.”

“Wait, you run triathlons?” You questioned, confused how it could as a patient with cystic fibrosis.

“Yeah, why not?” He responded.

“It’s a pain for one,” Gamora replied, flipping through the chart. “Says here you're finally admitting to feeling a little unwell?”

“A little.”

“How little? Truth.”

“Oh, enough to keep me awake at night. Had some seizures. Um, too weak to work out.”

“Anyone been through here with your CT results?”

“No. It's probably just my pancreatitis kicking up again.”

“All right then. We'll be back. With your results and a plan.” Gamora walked to the door, with you following. She glanced back at Nick. “Huh, where do your parents think you are this time?”

He smiled. “Hmm, San Diego.”

Gamora shakes her head as you follow her the rest of the way out of the room.

“What about his parents?” You asked. “Shouldn’t he, or we, tell them?”

“No, he doesn't like to bother them until he's well or about to get discharged. He understands his reality. He just chooses to ignore it. Denial works for him, L/N.”

~~~

After Bruce had left, it only took Natasha two minutes to have found blue scrubs and change into them. She took out her IV and snuck out to the nurses station. She began looking through patient charts. The head nurse, Phil Coulson, found her like that.

“Where’s your IV?” He asked, looking at her with a disappointed father face.

“I've taken solids. I HEP-locked it,” Natasha replied.

“On whose orders?”

“Mine.”

“Okay.” Phil quickly found her chart and began reading it. “Romanoff. How about this order: best rest, out of bed to chair, bathroom privileges. Nothing about stealing charts at the nurses station.”

“Okay, you know what….” She quickly looked around to find a nearby empty wheelchair. She brought it over and sat down in it. “There, satisfied? I’m out of bed to chair.”

“I’m telling your intent on you.”

“Y/N?”

“Yeah.”

“Oooh, I’m so scared.”

She wheeled off with a patient chart, heading to Tayla’s room. When she arrived, she witnessed Tayla, by herself, taking a pill.

“I saw that!” Natasha exclaimed from her wheelchair in the doorway. “I saw you take that pill.”

“Oh it's, it's my pill,” Tayla excused. “You know... the pill.”

Natasha quickly looked over the chart. “It’s not at all in your chart and you are supposed to tell us the meds you are on.”

“You’re not my doctor. You shouldn't even be here.”

“She’s right,” Val said, appearing from behind. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I saw her take unauthorized medication!” Natasha continued.

“Well, you’re unauthorized to be here.”

“I’m on the pill and I had grapefruit juice this morning,” Tayla explained. “Since the juice inhibits enzymes involved in the metabolism of OCPs, I thought I'd avoid the interaction by taking it two hours after my meal.”

“She's has a doctorate in neuropharmacology, Natasha.”

Natasha huffed, “Well, Val, I don’t see any place where oral contra—“

“Okay so now you will. Will you just go back to bed and stop bothering the other patients?”

Tayla’s heart monitor suddenly started racing, bringing the other women attentions to her. She fell to the floor, unconscious, and Val rushed to her.

“She’s in V-FIB!” Natasha said.

“Call the code,” Val ordered as she began compressions.

Natasha practically jumped out of her chair to call a code, which didn’t feel good. Val got Tayla back as the code team arrived.

“No code?” The nurse questioned.

“Not anymore,” Val answered. “Can you help get her back into bed.

“I’ll—I’ll help,” Natasha breathed got, struggling to get back to her wheelchair. “Just give me a minute.”

“Would you just go back to bed? Seriously, please just go.”

Natasha nodded as she finally made it to the wheelchair. “Just… if she’s on OCP’s, mark it down. Okay, Val?”

“Yeah.”

~~~

You had gotten Nick’s x-ray’s back and were currently putting them up to view them with Gamora by your side.

“Nick’s got a mass in his midepigastrium,” you explained. “Diffused enlargement of the pancreas. That, with his hypoglycemic seizures—“

“He's going to need an exploratory laparotomy. But, despite his triathlons, his lungs still make me hesitant to cut,” Gamora added.

“What are we going to do?”

“I haven’t gotten that far yet.”

“Doctors,” Peggy greeted.

“Dr. Carter-Rogers.”

“How old is he?” Peggy asked, studying the x-rays.

“26.”

“Survivor, huh?”

“And them some. My patient for at least 5 years. I'm not gonna lose him now.”

“You planning a laparotomy?”

“Hmm. You know, I think I could help you with this. I've seen one case like this before in a 9 year old. We ended up having to do a total pancreotectomy.”

“I'd be honored to take any help you can give me.”

“You’re a neonatal specialist,” you said. “What, uh… this isn’t your area.” Gamora looked at you, annoyed, as she shock her head. “I’m just saying that—“

“I did 2 years genetic research in cystic fibrosis,” Peggy told you. “I've pretty much seen it all, Dr. L/N.”

“Oh.”

~~~

Walking down the hall, Steve found you. Always trying his best to make a conversation with you. This time it was easy.

“Are you sure your wife is leaving?” You questioned. “She offered to help on the case Gamora has me working on.”

“Just because she offered her services doesn't mean she intends to stay,” Steve responded.

“Well, what does it mean? Because it seems to me—“

“It means that she's a good doctor.”

“Huh… why are you suddenly defending her?”

“I’m not. Y/N, she gave me divorce papers. She filed.”

“Good for you.”

“All I have to do is sign, and I’m free… We’re free.”

“Is there anything to think about?”

“No,” he shook his head, “of course not. I have to read through them, sign, then Peggy’s on the next plane out of here.” He grabbed your hands. “This is going to work.”

~~~

After the conversation he had with you, Steve immediately went searching for Gamora.

“Of all the fine doctors in the city, you accept a consult from Peggy Carter,” Steve said, angrily.

“Carter-Rogers, isn’t it?” Gamora retorted.

“The point is she should be on her way home. Are you purposefully trying to drive me crazy?”

“You think this has something to do with you?” Gamora’s voice was loud and upset. “You think I’m even thinking about you and your romantic problems? I’m trying to help a patient very near and dear to my heart. And if consulting with your wife—your ex—your mistress, what ever it is that she becomes! If that’s the thing I have to do to save my patient, them I’m damn well gonna do it.”

“I understand… and I totally deserve the yelling. It’s just that—“

“Just, you look! You have put yourself between two very fine women and you looking for an easy way out and you wanna use me, and the hospital and... somebody to make the decision for you, and it's not gonna happen!”

“Could I just… could I just say a couple of things?”

“No.” Gamora stormed off.

~~~

You found Natasha sitting in her bed, in her room. Thankfully. Though she was looking through another patient’s chart. You pulled a chair up to her bedside and sat down in it with a sigh.

“What’s your problem?” Natasha asked.

“Peggy gave Steve divorce papers, which is good. I mean she’s still here, being Peggy, but it’s not like I’m jealous or anything.”

“That’s odd.”

“It’s odd I’m not jealous?”

“No, you have every right to be jealous. It's your territory and she's peeing all over it.” Natasha went back to focusing on the chart in her hands. “What’s odd is Banner’s patient.”

“Tayla?”

“Yeah. She’s been in 4 other hospitals this year. You know something’s not right.”

“You seem awfully interested in Banner’s patient.”

“This has nothing to do with Bruce.”

“Natasha, you lost a fallopian tube, a baby and a boyfriend all in one day. You have the right to be upset.”

“And you’re losing Captain McDreamy to his perfect wife. You have the right to be jealous.”

“I did not lose Captain McDreamy. Divorce papers, remember? And I’m not jealous.”

“And I’m not upset. I really need to get out of here.”

“You’re on bedrest, remember?”

“Okay, if the situation was reversed, would you wanna spend time with your mother in a confined room with one window?”

“No. I guess not. But still. You need to stay put.”

Before Natasha could respond, your pager beeped. You looked down at it and groaned.

“I got to go,” you muttered, leaving.

“Good luck!”

~~~

Peggy and Gamora met you in Nick’s room. There you began explaining the surgery to him.

“We won't know for sure until we go in there, but it looks like that I'm going to have to take out your pancreas and re-route your intestines,” Peggy said.

Nick looked at Gamora. “Did you tell her that my lungs don't do well with anesthesia?”

“Don’t I always have your back?” Gamora retorted.

“Your kidney function is decreasing rapidly and I'm afraid you're gonna go into multi-system organ failure if we don't operate,” Peggy continued.

“If I say no?” Nick wondered.

“There’s no guarantees, Nick. You know that,” Gamora answered. “It's gonna be a long, hard surgery and put a lot of stress on your body.”

“Yeah,” he smiled, “but I’m me.”

She smiled back. “But you’re you.”

“So if we don’t operate, I die. And if… we do operate, I may die.”

“Basically, yes,” Peggy responded.

“Well, I like those odds. And 26 years with this disease is awesome. And that's the reality. So if I get lucky ... great. And if I don’t…” Nick grabbed Gamora’s hand, “it’s been sweet.”

“It’s gonna stay sweet,” she replied.

~~~

Natasha was laying on her bed with her harm over her eyes when Clint walked into the room. Tayla’s chart was laid out on top of her.

“Why do you have that?” He asked.

“I’m working,” Nat answered. “Trying to figure out what’s going on with the crazy woman on four.”

“You are the crazy woman on four. Though, I have to say, you have a better patina than me and you don’t even really have a patient.” Clint plopped down in the chair next to her bed. “Y/N’s got a CF case. Peter has a gunshot wound. Val’s got the mystery arrhythmias. I have babysitting a crazy old lady! I’d rather do scut with Scott than this! I’m a surgeon. A cutter. I don’t want to be a fake surgeon! I want to be a real one!”

“She’s faking it,” Nat repeated to herself. She quickly got off the bed. “The missionary. Talya… Thank you!”

She patted Clint’s head as she walked by. Natasha headed straight for the nurses station, where she saw Val looking around for something.

“Val!” Natasha called. “How how Talya’s studies been?”

“Hey!” Val responded, not pleasantly as she took the chart from Nat. “I’ve been looking everywhere for that!”

“Negative, right?”

“Oh! The echo tests showed mild mitral stenosis, the tilt test was negative. We're doing EP studies.”

“I can tell you what's wrong with her without sticking electrodes in her heart.”

“Really. Just by the chart?”

“No, from the pill she took.”

“They were contraceptives, Natasha! Why are you so obsessed with this? Just go back to bed!”

“I think she’s doing this to herself.”

“You think she's inducing ventricular arrhythmias? She'd have to be crazy to do—“

“No, no, no. She'd have to have Munchausen’s.”

“Okay wait. You think she's secretly ingesting something to produce real symptoms? Seriously?”

“Yes. Run it by Banner and tell me what he thinks.”

“Why don’t you tell him yourself. He is standing right behind you.” Val made eye contact with the man. “Dr. Banner.”

Then Val left. Leaving Natasha will Bruce. She sighed as Bruce guided her into the small office nearby before listening to her.

“I mean, she obviously loves the patient role. She practically lives in hospitals. And... and, and we're like an imaginary family to her because her really family blows her off to go take care of other people.... And, and I saw her take something.”

“It's not enough,” Bruce said, shaking his head. “We have to rule out everything else. Everything physical.”

“She even lied about her job. She's a pharmacy tech, not a PhD.”

“So she's a liar. I've been lied to before.”

“Hey, we're not talking about us here.”

“Maybe we should be.”

“I didn’t lie!”

“You withheld the truth from me. How was00”

“Okay, you know what? I distinctly remember you breaking things off with me. And you didn't seem so upset about it. And this?” She motioned between herself and Bruce. “This is, this is not a relationship. This is not real.”

“Natasha…”

“Okay, and, and so what's with the big display of fake hurt and drama?” She began walking out of the room.

“Natasha!”

“I’m supposed to be in bed.”

~~~

You absolutely did not want to be in surgery with Peggy. Yet there you were.

“I need more traction,” Peggy stated. “Dr. Y/N?” You quickly did as you were told.

“Here,” Gamora called, “give me some suction there.” So you did. “Now L/N, retract the duodenum. Good. How’s he doing Vis?”

Vis was keeping watch over Nick’s vitals and such. “Harder to ventilate and no urine output since we started,” Vis informed.

Peggy shook her head, “he’s shutting down.”

“Did you increase his peak pressures?” Gamora asked.

“Any higher, I blow his lungs,” Vis responded before the monitor beeped. “Bradycardia. Pushing 1 of atropine.”

“Try ventilating him manually,” Peggy ordered, “see if he starts coming back up.” Vis began pushing on a bag.

“Did we miss any bleeders?” Gamora wondered.

“The surgical field is clear.”

The monitor began beeping faster. “Agonal rhythm,” you said.

“Any pulse with that?” Gamora asked.

“No carotid,” Vis answered.

“Okay, starting CPR.” Gamora handed over her tools and begun CPR. “Push one of EPI.”

“No extraordinary measures, Gamora,” Peggy warned. “He’s DNR.”

“No this is just good medicine.” Sh continued CPR, almost frantically. “Come on! Come on! Don’t give up. Come on.”

“You’re getting tired,” you noted. “Let me take over, Dr. Gamora.” She nodded, letting you quickly switch her places.

“Gamora, his intestines are cyanotic,” Peggy stated. “There’s no blood circulating.”

“It’s been shunted to his brain where he needs it,” Gamora responded as she studied your CPR form. “You call those compressions.” She shoved you to the side and took over CPR. You and Peggy made eye contact, worried. “Fight it. Come on.” Peggy looked around, shaking her head, and everyone stopped what they were doing. All but Gamora. “Why isn’t anyone moving? Whose recording?”

“It's been ten minutes since we've had a perfusing rhythm.” Peggy goes to stop Gamora but is shrugged off. The monitor flat lines. “It’s your call, Gamora.”

Taking a shaky inhale, Gamora stopped. She pulled off her mask as the monitor continues to flat line. “Asystole.” She looked up at the clock. “Time of death: 19:35.”

Gamora rushed out of the OR, trying not to cry. She went straight to the sinks and began cleaning her hands furiously. She paused when she noticed people covering up Nick’s body. Peggy walked in and started washing her hands as well, with you following. You both eyed Gamora a few times, worried. Soon, she left.

Peggy sighed. “It’s hard to accept the end when you’re too close.” She looked down as she slipped her wedding ring back onto her finger. She noticed you watching. “Look, I don't want someone who doesn't want me, Y/N. But if there's the slightest chance that he does, I'm not leaving New York.”

~~~

Val walked into Natasha’s room, not excited for the news she was about to tell her.

“Well?” Natasha asked.

“You were right,” Val sighed. “Talya definitely suffers from Munchausen’s.”

“See I was right…. I was right…” She closed her eyes. “I was right…” Nat began to cry. “I was right. I was… I was right. Oh… I’m—I’m—“ She let out a sob. “I’m right. I’m—I’m right.”

Val looked out of the room to see Clint walking by. “Clint! Page Y/N!”

Clint hurried in. “Why? What—what’s happening? What did you do to her?”

“She just started crying and I don’t know what to do!”

“I’ll get one of the nurses to page, Y/N.” Clint rushed out.

“Natasha,” Val tried, slowly coming closer. “Natasha, calm down.”

“The nurses paged her!” Clint came rushing back in.

“It’s okay, Nat.” Val went in for a hug, only for Nat to shrink away and cry harder. “Okay, okay. I won’t hug you.”

“What’s going on?” You came running in, panicked.

“I can’t stop!” Nat cried. “I can’t—-I can’t stop…”

“Crying,” Val finished for her. “She can’t stop crying.”

“I can’t see that!” You replied. “What did you guys do to her?”

“Nothing!”

“She’s going to dehydrate,” Clint said. “Nat, do you want some water?”

Nat shook her head, “no, no…” You tried to go in for a hug, only to be pulled away.

“NO!” Clint and Val exclaimed.

“I already tried that,” Val said. “It just made it worse.” Clint tentatively handed Nat a tissue.

“Natasha,” you tried again.

“Make—make it stop,” Natasha sobbed. “Make it stop… Somebody sedate me!”

“What’s going on in here?” Bruce asked, walking in. He was dressed like he was about to leave. There was clear concern etched on his face.

“We can’t get her to stop crying,” you replied.

“Y/N, get everyone else out of here.” Bruce was taking off his jacket. “Watch the door.”

You nodded, quickly ushering Clint and Val out. They voiced protests, but willing left. You shut the door behind you and watched. Peeking through the window, you watched as Bruce got in the bed beside Nat. He wrapped his arms around her and brought her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Natasha willingly curled into him, welcoming his comfort. You sighed and turned away, leaning against the door to keep watch. Steve noticed you and came up.

“Hey,” he smiled.”

“Hey.”

“When are you off?”

“Uh,” you glanced at your watch, “in about an hour. Why?”

“Meet me at Happy’s when you get off.” He started walking backwards, sly smirk on his lips. “Don’t be late.”

~~~

Steve and you arrived at Happy’s bar at the same time. He gave you a smile as he held the door open for you. You walked over to an empty table, Steve close behind.

“I’m glad we’re doing this,” you said.

“Me too,” Steve replied. He set it briefcase on his chair. “Want a drink?”

“Yes, please.”

Turning around, Steve knocked his briefcase onto the ground. A stack of papers slipped out.

“I’ve got it,” Steve quickly said, bending down.

“I’ll get it,” you said, picking up the papers.

You glance at the papers as you stand back up. There his divorce papers, that he has yet to sign.

next chapter >

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moonlit-jeno · 5 years ago

Text

secrets | n.jm

genre/ warnings: vampire au, explicit sexual content, angst, way too much blood/ blood drinking, b i t i n g, character death (kind of), references to drugs, religion

word count: 9.5k

summary:

“I’m not scared.”

“No?” The sharp points of his fangs graze your skin and you swallow down your whimper, head falling back against the wall. You’re not scared of what Jaemin could do to you.

You’re scared of what you want him to do to you.

notes: big thanks to @jaemallow for pushing the jaemin agenda and helping to keep me sane

“Come on, we’re going to be late.” Mark grumbles at you, throwing an agitated glance over his shoulder. You roll your eyes and slow down even more just to spite him. “Dude, my dad’s going to kill me.” “He’ll be fine. Murder’s against the word of God, y’know.” You speed up despite your words, laughing at the way Mark glares at you.

There’s a crack in the sidewalk that he trips over and you laugh good naturedly. The street leading up to the church is in less than optimal shape, littered with cracks in the sidewalk and missing chunks of cement. Mark’s dad had tried to raise money to fix the street, but it hasn’t happened yet.

Mark starts walking slower all of a sudden and you grumble, glaring at him when he grabs your wrist to yank you backwards. You’re about to ask what his problem is when you see the three figures at the end of the road, moving closer towards you two.

“You’re kidding me.” They hear it, they must, with their superhuman senses. It only makes them smile brighter. You glance at Mark. “Wanna turn around?”

“Too late.” Mark breathes, staring straight ahead of him with wide eyes. You look away from him to find the three vampires standing directly in front of you, blocking your way.

A groan leaves you and you cross your arms, raising your eyebrows expectantly. “Can we help you?”

The ringleader of the bunch, Jaemin, smiles. “Well, since you’re offering, I suppose I am feeling a little hungry.”

The church is only one block down but if they don’t want to let you pass, you’re not going to get there. Mark shifts nervously next to you, shaking his head when you open your mouth to make a remark. That doesn’t stop you from saying it. “You realize that just because you’re from the 1200’s doesn’t mean that you have to talk like you’re from the 1200’s.”

“I resent that.” Jaemin frowns, clutching his hands to his chest likes he’s been stabbed. “I was born in 1706. It’s almost like you don’t care about me at all.”

“Is it? Must be because I don’t.” The other two vampires are silent, though one of them- Jeno- watches with amusement. The other one is unfamiliar and looks like he’s trying to figure out to pair you with white or red wine. You shudder and turn your attention to Jeno. “Nice cross. I thought shit like that burned your skin? You know, because you’re a demon and all that.”

Jeno’s eyes smile with him and it’s hard to remember that he’s a monster. He brushes his thumb against the small mark under his eye, shrugging. “Nah, only the blessed ones. Or, y’know, the silver ones. But this one? I just wanted to piss off the church daddy who told me that I deserved to rot in worse places than the sewer.“

You snort before you can stop yourself. “Church daddy?”

He waves a dismissive hand. “Church daddy, father, same thing.” A pause. “Hey, Mark, isn’t that your dad?”

Mark avoids eye contact and nods. “Yeah, but I like, I don’t like, speak for him, y’know?” He laughs nervously.

“You don’t have to.” That’s the one you don’t recognize, glaring at Mark. “We can tell it’s what you’re thinking. You don’t even have the decency to look at us?”

“And who are you? Their vampire bitch or something?” You snap to Mark’s defense, not wanting the vampires to prey on Mark’s nerves.

The boy lunges like he’s going to attack you but Jeno grabs him by the neck. Jaemin laughs. “Careful princess, that hits a little too close to home for our little Renjun over here.” To clarify, he leans a little closer and lowers his voice. Not like it matters, the other two can hear him just fine. “Jeno got carried away while feeding the other day and turned him.”

Your eyes widen in surprise and this time you don’t have a witty comeback. Vampires are monsters, yes, but they have laws. And it is very, very illegal to turn a human. “That’s-”

“Against the law?” Jeno finishes. “Yeah. It was an accident though, plus he’s from out of town! So I can’t technically get in trouble.”

“Technically.” You mock, rolling your eyes. “Whatever, we’ve got places to be so if we could speed this conversation up?”

Jaemin pouts. “So soon? You’re already late for church, why even bother going?”

You stand your ground. “Good bye, Jaemin. Make sure you do a better job of training your new puppy.” Renjun snarls at you.

“What, like how you trained your puppy?” Jaemin nods over at Mark and the boys face turns red. “Bye, y/n, Mark. I’d ask you to say hello to God for me but he doesn’t exist!”

He walks off with that as a goodbye, Renjun and Jeno on his heels. Jeno at least has the decency to smile at you and tell you to have a good rest of your day.

They’re right about one thing: going to church when you‘re already late sucks. A few people glance back at you and Mark when you sneak in, sitting in the last row. You spot your parents sitting in the front row along with Mark’s brother. Luckily none of them notice you slipping in, so they won’t know just how late you were.

Mark seems on edge and you pat his knee, frowning at how violently he flinches. You raise an eyebrow, silently asking if he’s okay. He just gives you a tight smile. Mark’s always been a nervous kid, so you figure it has to do with the little vampire interaction you just had. Or fear that his dad will yell at him for being late. They’re both pretty scary.

It’s not until after the service that you talk to your parents- your mother taking the time to hug Mark and pinch his cheeks before she even looks at you- and your father asks where you were.

“It was my fault, sir.” Mark speaks up, knowing that your parents adore him and won’t be upset. “I couldn’t find my church clothes, I forgot that they were in the wash and had to sort through all of my laundry. Y/n was an angel and stayed with me to help.”

“Huh,” Your father says, looking Mark up and down. “Well, your shoes could use a good polishing, but you look sharp, kid. Good man.” He pats Mark’s shoulder and walks off to talk to a friend. Your mother raises an eyebrow and shrugs, loading you up with tasks to take care of when you get home.

Do the dishes, fold the laundry, remember to take the store bought pie out of the container and pop it onto a plate so that it looks homemade. “Oh, and one last thing.” She stops you, turning away from her conversation about her book club meeting with some lady that she can’t stand. “I don’t want you walking through the city. Those vampires are getting braver and braver, attacking in broad daylight.”

“Okay, I’ll take the long way.” You promise her. She nods, and satisfied that you won’t die, turns back to her friends. You say goodbye to Mark and a handful of other people- most of whom you don’t like- and head home.

You have absolutely no intention of taking the long way home. It adds an extra half an hour to your walk and you swear you always get attacked by bugs. Besides, vampires might be dangerous, but it’s not like you have a high chance of encountering one. The three you’d talked to earlier were harmless, two of them attending your same university.

Jeno did medical research, occasionally stepping in to teach if the professors needed help. He’s technically a doctor, but he finds ways to multitask. The benefits of being immortal, you suppose, is that you learn a lot, especially if you’ve been alive since the 1100’s. He was nice enough by himself, though he would never answer your questions about history. Not that he wouldn’t try, but the poor guy would just get so confused that he would end up rambling about a completely unrelated topic.

Jaemin was a little different. He took classes, though his goal was to learn about interesting topics and keep up with the culture, not to fit in like Edward Cullen and prey on teenage girls. For someone so old, he’s surprisingly good at the technology classes, learning how to use a camera faster than your much younger parents. Jaemin also holds tutoring sessions for struggling students, pretty much offering help for every subject. Sometimes he assists Jeno with his research, though he never says what they’re researching. It’s always the same vague answer: medicine.

You know them pretty well, and yet you wouldn’t say that you’re friends. Vampires and humans coexist, but it’s not always that peaceful. There’s a definite divide between the two, a definite feeling of “we’re better than them” coming from both sides. And you can see why that divide is there, you can understand why.

After all, it’s not like you’re too fond of vampires yourself.

Cursed to hell, is a phrase used too often by your parents, by the church. God’s reject’s is another. And when you look at them, it’s hard to disagree with those statements.

They don’t burn in the sun but they can’t touch silver, can’t say God’s name, can’t enter a building without explicit permission. They catch on fire when they enter holy places (they’re fine to enter the one across town, but that’s another story).

Similar insults are used to describe humans. “How can you call us God’s rejects when you die so easily?” One vampire had countered when you were in middle school, pointing out that vampires couldn’t get diseases or die of natural causes like a human. He’d called you weak. You’d thrown a cross at him. Both of you had been suspended.

Still, you don’t hate vampires. And you especially can’t hate vampires now, not when you’re failing your chemistry class and your only option for help is Na Jaemin.

Mark has a different opinion. “Y/n, you can’t go to his house! He’ll kill you!”

You laugh. “Mark, come on. It’s either he kills me, or my parents kill me when they find out I wasted my tuition on a class I failed. It’ll be fine.” He still looks unhappy. You wiggle your fingers at him. “Look! I have silver rings on. I’m wearing my cross. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not going to be the one telling your parents you were killed by a vampire, y/n.” He sounds dead serious and you raise your eyebrows.

“Mark, I’m helping with a research project. I’m not deciding to work for the food bank.” You point out. “This is the only way I can make up my grade, Mark. It’s generous of my professor to even let me do this.” He sighs, knowing there’s no arguing with you, and pulls his necklace off. Walking closer, he drapes the silver cross over your head. “Fine. Just, please be careful.” You smile and pat his cheek, tucking the charm under the collar of your shirt. “I always am.”

Jaemin lives in a pretty nice house on the top of the hill, which sucks because your calves are burning by the time you get up there. It has a pretty view, though, and it’s a decent distance away from his closest neighbor. You always joke that he could kill someone up here. Going up alone, that joke doesn’t seem as funny.

He’s got an old fashioned knocker on the wooden door that you only use because you’re not too fond of digging splinters out of your hands. It makes a pretty solid sound, and it barely takes five seconds before Jaemin answers the door. He looks good, wearing a dark blue button up with his hair pushed off of his forehead. Almost like he put some effort in. He obviously catches you giving him a once over and he grins.

“Eager to see me?” You tease, stepping past him into his house. He laughs, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, of course. The world revolves around you, I just had to get a glimpse.” Jaemin drawls.

“Alright, what’s the research project?” You ask, wanting to get straight to the point. “I’m only here because I need to pass my class, Jaemin.

He takes his time flipping through a book on his coffee table before glancing up at you, rolling his sleeves up to his forearms. “The effects of vampire blood in humans.”

Your eyebrows skyrocket. “If you say that you’re making me drink your blood, we’re going to have a problem.”

“Fucking hell, y/n. I know you humans have a problem with vampires, but I’m a researcher. I do research, and I do it just as responsibly and professionally as human researchers.” Jaemin snaps, and it’s probably the first time you’ve ever heard him not use a flirting or teasing tone. “And besides, we already know what that would do. It would only turn you.” You swallow thickly at the thought of being turned. “Then what do you need me here for?” “We just need a few of your cells and a tiny blood sample.” Jaemin says, moving to where you stand next to the counter. “We’re researching if vampire blood has an effect on strengthening human cells, or preventing undesirable circumstances that affect humans. You know, aging, disease, the like.” He hands you some paperwork and you glance over it briefly. There’s nothing about him draining you dry of blood, so you sign it. “Great. We won’t be taking the samples today considering we’re at my house, but I’ll walk you through the basics of what we’re doing. You know, assuming that you’re smart enough to understand it.” “I’m not fucking dumb, Jaemin.” You snap, glaring at him.

“No, of course not.” He sympathises, smiling down at you. “Just a little slow. Come on y/n, you’re failing one of the easiest courses at the university. You’re not exactly smart.”

You shove the papers over to Jaemin, purposely letting your silver rings graze his exposed skin. Jaemin flinches back from your touch, a sharp hiss leaving him as he grabs at his wrist. He glares at you. “You fucking serious?”

It’s mean, but what he said wasn’t exactly nice. You meet his gaze head on, eyebrow arched. “What’s the matter, leech? Can’t take the heat?” He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes to ground himself. It’s probably not smart to goad him, but that’s exactly what you do. “Aww, don’t ignore me, leech. It’s rude. Didn’t your parents ever teach you any manners?”

All the air in your body leaves you with a whoosh as Jaemin pins you up against the wall, wrists held over your head by one of his hands. A dull pain radiates through your body and you’re sure you’ll have bruises on your back from the impact, not that Jaemin seems to care. The boy stares down at you with dark eyes, standing way too close for comfort.

“My parents died 300 years ago.” Jaemin snarls. “But yours are still alive. Didn’t they teach you to respect your elders?”

“You’re not older than me.” The words are intended to be fierce, defiant. They come out shaky, timid. “You’re a dead man, Jaemin.”

That makes him laugh, though you don’t think he’s found your words funny. “Yeah? Do I seem dead to you?” He tightens his grip on your wrist and uses his free hand to tilt your chin up, make you look him in the eyes. “I can feel your heartbeat, little girl. You’re scared.”

“I’m not scared.” You are. He knows that.

“No?” He raises his eyebrows, cocking his head to the side before dipping down, letting his mouth hover over your neck. “Not even now?”

You shake your head, swallowing down a whimper. He’s right about your heartbeat, it’s fluttering so frantically that you can hear it in your ears, feel it under your skin. You’re scared, but not for the reasons he thinks you are.

Jaemin smiles at you, fangs on full display, and moves even closer to your neck. The sharp points of his fangs graze your skin and you swallow down your whimper, head falling back against the wall. You’re not scared of what Jaemin could do to you.

You’re scared of what you want him to do to you.

He scrapes his fangs along your neck, an action that’s painful in the most pleasurable way, but doesn’t break the skin. His tongue darts out instead, soothing over the pain before his lips press to your skin in an open mouthed kiss. Your fingers flex above your head and you ache to touch him, to fist your hand in his soft hair and pull him closer.

A moan leaves you and he pulls away, pressing his thumb to the area. Jaemin can feel your pulse from there and he smirks at how frantically your heart beats.

“You’re not scared?” Jaemin asks, the question condescending. He doesn’t believe you. “You do realize that I could sink my fangs into your pretty little neck and drain you dry, right?”

The mention of him biting you drags a keen out of your throat, and you find yourself whimpering out a “please” before you can help yourself. It has Jaemin pausing, eyes roaming over you as he reassesses the situation.

“Oh, you really aren’t scared.” Jaemin smirks. “Who knew that you were so fucking filthy?” He doesn’t wait for a response, dipping his head down and trailing the tip of his tongue up your throat. It feels nice, so, so nice, but it’s interrupted by a burning pain, a sob ripping from you at the intensity of it.

You thrash against his hold, but then the pain starts to get replaced with a pleasure unlike anything you’ve ever felt, and you slowly melt into his touch, arching against him to expose more of your throat.

Jaemin pulls away eventually, licking over your wound a few times before pulling back to give you a bloody grin. “Feels good, yeah?” You nod, and the bliss must be apparent on your face because Jaemin chuckles darkly before leaning back in. “You want more, don’t you?”

“Yeah, want it.” The words are breathless and slur together, your body thrumming with heat, begging for more. Jaemin does the opposite of what you want and steps away.

“Be a good girl and take those fucking rings off, then.” Jaemin commands, and you swear you’ve never moved faster than you’re moving now, carelessly dropping your jewelry to the floor. Mark’s necklace lands near his foot and he scowls at it, crushing the piece of metal beneath the heel of his shoe.

You immediately grab for him when you’re done, but Jaemin doesn’t let you pull him forward. He just scoops you up into his arms, carrying you to the sofa. You end up straddling his lap, his back pressing into the couch, and he wastes no time before sinking his fangs back into your neck.

“God,” You breathe out, winding your arms around his neck, pulling his head closer to you. “F-fuck, Jaem, that feels so good.”

He just hums against your throat, continuing to suck and lick at the wound. There’s a little bit of blood on his lips when he pulls away and you wipe at it with your thumb before letting the digit slip past his lips. He sucks on it slowly, gazing up at you with dark eyes, and lets his fangs graze the skin. Arousal jolts through you and you whimper, pulling your hand away and dragging him back to your neck.

“Baby wants more?” Jaemin teases, not waiting for an answer before sinking his fangs into you, this spot even more sensitive than the last. You whine loudly, tugging at his hair and feeling your eyes roll back in your head at the euphoria spreading through your body. Your head feels fuzzy and there’s so much heat coursing through you that you can barely function.

“Mhmm, yeah.” You pant out. “Want more. Oh my God Jaemin, I’m so fucking wet.”

Jaemin groans at your words, one of his hands sliding up your thigh before moving inwards, cupping your pussy over your clothes. He pulls his hand away when you try to grind down, grabbing onto your hip to stop your movements.

“No.” He growls, the simple word vibrating through your entire body and making you shake. “You come from this, nothing else.”

Tears slip down your cheeks as you hold onto him for dear life, your core clenching desperately around nothing. You hug him tighter, letting your head fall back on your shoulders to expose more of your throat, your lips parted to let Jaemin drag sound after sound of pleasure out of you. It feels good, way too good considering the action, and you lose yourself to the feeling.

The collar of your shirt is tugged down and then Jaemin’s lips are attaching to the top of your breast, fangs sinking into the delicate flesh. You keen and shove your chest further into his face, not knowing what else to do besides hold onto him for dear life. Your body feels heavy but your head feels light and it’s such a startling contrast to the euphoria coursing through your veins that it makes you dizzy. It’s hard to see straight, let alone think straight, and your pussy throbs with every little bit of blood that Jaemin takes from your body. Your hips rock against nothing but air, desperately searching for some sort of friction, something to fill your needy cunt, but you can’t find anything and it has you sobbing out in frustration.

More bite marks are left, more electricity shoots through your body, more wetness drips out of your pussy. You swear you’ve never felt this good in your life, and that’s only confirmed when Jaemin seals his lips over the first mark he left, licking and sucking at the wound until it opens all over again and you feel yourself falling, white flashing behind your eyes as the most intense orgasm of your life crashes over you. You grab at Jaemin as tightly as you can, screaming his name and babbling incoherently as he drags out your pleasure, lets you get high off all of his kisses and bites.

It lasts forever, and it takes even longer for you to come down to yourself, Jaemin stroking your hair and your back. You open your eyes to find him already looking at you, his face clean and dry of any blood. It takes you a while to notice that there’s an ice pack on your neck and a plate of food on the table in front of you, and you vaguely wonder how long you were out for if Jaemin had time to do all of this for you.

“Don’t move too fast, baby.” Jaemin cautions, noticing you struggling to sit up. “I took way more blood than I meant to, you’re gonna feel a little weak.” “A little?” Your muscles feel like jelly when you try to push yourself off of him and you collapse back onto Jaemin’s chest with a soft groan. Jaemin huffs a laugh and helps you sit up, turning you around on his lap so that your back is to his chest. He drops a soft kiss to your ear and your eyelids flutter.

“Here, take these.” Pills are dropped into your hand, a bottle of some energy drink you don’t recognize. “It’ll replace all the nutrients and stuff you lost.” Jaemin watches you down the drink in one go, tossing it across the room when you hand the empty bottle back to him. “How are you feeling?”

Your vision is much clearer than it was, though you still feel lethargic and would like to do nothing except lay down in a soft bed for the rest of your life. “My head hurts.” Jaemin hums. “Okay. I would rattle off some instructions for you to follow but I know it’ll just make your headache worse. I’ll write them down for you instead, how’s that.” “You’re so self aware.” Reality hits you when you feel the bruises on your throat, on your chest, and realize that yes, all of that did just happen. “Um. I didn’t know it could feel that-” You trail off, hand waving vaguely in the air. “Good?” Jaemin offers, laughing when you nod. “Mhmm, did they not tell you about that? I’m sure they make it sound like being bitten by a vampire is the worst thing imaginable at that fancy church you go to.” You look away, embarrassed, and Jaemin laughs. “You know that humans make drugs out of our saliva, right? That’s why there are hunters.” Your eyes shoot open in alarm. “Really? That’s awful.”

Jaemin hums, nodding. “Yeah, well, when it’s profitable...” He laughs bitterly. “Anyways, it’s an expensive drug. And you just got that shit for free.”

“I feel so honored.” You laugh, snuggling into him. He pushes you back.

“Y/n, I need you to understand something.” Jaemin says, tone suddenly serious. His eyes burn straight into your soul. “That was a mistake. I’m not- we can’t do that again.”

It shouldn’t hurt you. What you just did is considered shameful by many, you should be relieved that he’s telling you it can’t happen again. You shouldn’t want to spend more time with a vampire. “Oh. Yeah, yeah of course.” You nod, looking away from his intense gaze to blink back your tears. “Yeah, we just got carried away.” Jaemin looks like he wants to say something else, lips parting for a second before shaking his head, offering a tight smile instead. “We got everything done that we needed to get done. You should rest now.”

He doesn’t mean now as in right this second, which he made especially clear after telling you that it was a mistake, but you can’t help it. You’re asleep in seconds.

When you wake up for the second time, Jaemin is nowhere to be found. You’re in your own bed, tucked in nice and neatly, and you smile as you realize it meant that the vampire had carried you home. There’s the list of instructions that he’d promised you on your nightstand, signed with nearly illegible hand-writing. Your smile grows before promptly dropping off. Vampires can’t get into a house without being invited. You’ve never invited him in, which means that he must’ve either asked permission from Mark or your parents. Neither is good.

The gravity of the situation hits you when Mark walks into your room, jaw set, arms crossed. He blanches when he sees your neck, the sight clearly making him uncomfortable. “Holy- y/n, I told you that you couldn’t trust Jaemin. You’re lucky I was here when you brought you home because I can guarantee your parents would react way worse than me.”

“Jaemin was fine. He didn’t do anything I didn’t want him to.” You see the exact moment that those words process in Mark’s mind, his face going from worried to angry.

“You let him drink from you? What were you thinking? Y/n, you look like you got mauled.” Mark sounds disgusted and you try not to shrink into yourself.

The bruises ache when you press over one of them and an overwhelming sense of embarrassment washes over you at how it makes you shiver. “Relax, it’s not like I let him turn me. We just got caught up in the heat of the moment. Mark, it felt so good.” Your eyelids flutter shut at the memory, snapping back open when Mark scoffs.

“So what? You want to be their blood bag now?” Mark’s voice rises in pitch as he yells and the sound grates on your nerves. “Wanna be a vampire whore for the rest of your life? Live in a dusty ass attic and let whoever walks by have a go at you?” “Mark, what- do you hear yourself? What the fuck is your problem?” Mark’s been your best friend since you were five. Never, never, have you heard him talk like this. It hurts.

“Do I hear myself? Y/n, I should be the one asking you that. Here you are, creaming yourself while talking about letting some fucking, some bloodsucker tear your throat open! It’s disgusting.” Mark scoffs, shaking his head. “You’re just as bad as Do-” He cuts himself off suddenly, but you know what he was about to say. “Just as bad as who? Donghyuck?” You shake your head, feeling hot tears prick at the back of your eyes. “It must run in the family to become filthy disappointments, then.”

Mark’s eyes soften and he grabs your wrist, rubbing circles into your skin with his thumb. “It’s not too late for you. Let’s go to the church, you can pray for forgiveness.”

You feel numb when you nod, letting Mark wrap a scarf around your neck and lead you down the road. He sits next to you in the pews, rubbing your shoulder while you rest your forehead on your hands, pretending to pray. But you can’t focus, can’t stop thinking about your brother.

Donghyuck was Mark’s best friend before you were. The three of you would hang out a lot, though you only joined the two because as Donghyuck’s younger sister, he felt obligated to include you. The two boys were inseparable, and then one day, they weren’t.

Your parents say that he was tainted by the devil. Mark’s father says that he betrayed God. You think Donghyuck simply fell in love. And love is a beautiful thing, but not when it’s between a vampire and a human. Your brother was forced to choose between his family and his love.

In the end, he chose love.

That night, you toss and turn in bed, unable to stop thinking about your brother. If he’s alive, if he’s a vampire. If he’s dead. What you would do in his situation. Not that it matters, because you wouldn’t fall in love with a vampire, but you can’t help but wonder. Is it really that bad? They were once human, too.

The thought doesn’t leave your mind even when you go to the lab, meeting an uncharacteristically quiet Jaemin, and a very excited looking Jeno. “Y/n! Thank you so much for doing this!” “Yeah, well, gotta pass my classes somehow.” You laugh. Jaemin doesn’t meet your eyes when you look at him, keeping his gaze just a little too low and frowning.

“Seriously though, this is great. I’ve been trying to get permission for this experiment for ages, the fact that the administration finally caved is insane.” Jeno says, turning to ruffle through some papers on the desk. You shoot a curious glance at Jaemin, finally realizing that he’s staring at your neck. Or well, your covered neck. He’s trying to see the marks. With a glance towards Jeno, you carefully slide the fabric of your turtle neck down, laughing silently at how Jaemin inhales sharply, lips parting slightly. You yank it back up when Jeno turns around. “Jaemin informed you of the experiment, correct?” You shoot Jaemin a look. “Yeah! You just need to take a couple of blood samples, right?” Jeno shakes his head, tilting his head at Jaemin. “Not exactly. We’re going to need you to take microdoses of vampire blood.”

It takes a moment to register. “You want me to drink vampire blood?” You screech, eyes bulging. “That’s going to turn me!” Jeno shakes his head, laughing. “With the amount we’re giving you? No. It’ll only turn you if a vampire drinks your blood, and you die. You’ll be fine.” Next to you, Jaemin stiffens. You bite your lip. “Um. Like at the same time, or?” “It doesn’t have to be at the exact same time. If you’ve been bitten before, you can’t drink any blood or you’ll be turned. But again, that’s only if you die.” Jeno tilts his head. “Have you been bitten before?” “Jeno.” Jaemin draws his attention away before you can respond. “It’s just a microdose, right? Like, barely enough to have an effect?” He considers this. “Well, I mean, not enough to have negative effects.”

You and Jaemin share a long look. Jaemin had drunk your blood not even a week earlier. It's dangerous. But it’s a small amount. Jeno said there wouldn’t be any negative effects. And you can’t fail this class. You send Jaemin a pleading look. Jaemin swallows thickly and looks back to Jeno.

“She’ll be fine?” Jaemin’s voice is shaky.

Jeno nods. “Caring for a human? That’s odd, coming from you. But yeah, she’ll be fine.”

You exhale heavily. “I’ll do it.”

There are more papers to be signed, more blood to be drawn. Though this time Jeno takes it in a much more professional manner, drawing it out and putting it into a test tube. Next to you, Jaemin squeezes his eyes shut and you watch his jaw clench. You want to tease him but you can’t, not in front of Jeno.

Despite Jeno’s reassurances, the worry doesn’t leave you. He doesn’t know what you and Jaemin did, doesn’t know that you’ve been bitten by a vampire. And maybe it doesn’t matter- it’s not like you’re going to die or anything, which is what needs to happen for you to turn- but you need some sort of comfort.

That’s how you end up bailing on your Friday night dinner with Mark’s family, saying that you need to finish a project that’s due that night. Your parents roll their eyes and scold you for not taking your studies seriously, but let you skip the dinner. Mark shakes his head at you, disapproving of you working with a vampire, but keeps his mouth shut.

If Jaemin’s surprised when you show up at his door, he doesn’t show it. He just smirks at you, leaning against the door frame. “Hey blood bag.” You scoff and shove past him into the house, dropping down onto the sofa you sat on last time. “When did you start calling me that, leech?”

“When you let me drink from you.” Jaemin says plainly, sitting next to you. “Is there a reason you’re here? I mean, I know I’m irresistible, but-” “But we didn’t tell Jeno you drank from me.” You interrupt. “We need to tell him. He’s been waiting forever for this, he’ll be devastated if we ruin it.”

Jaemin nods, considering it. “Y/n, you know you’ll get kicked off the project if we tell him, right?” You nod, biting your lip. “Look, Jeno’s been my best friend for hundreds of years. I hate keeping this from him more than you do.” “Then why are you?” It doesn’t make sense. You’re certainly not friends, or at least you weren’t before last week.

He doesn’t answer. His eyes are dark and it looks like there’s a war raging behind them, but he doesn’t elaborate on what’s bothering him. The sharp points of his teeth dig into his bottom lip as he bites it nervously, blood beading at the cut when he finally looks back at you.

You don’t think when you bring your thumb up to swipe at his lower lip, skin coming away red. Jaemin watches in fascination as you bring the digit up to your own mouth, sliding it past your lips, sucking the blood away. He swallows thickly.

“Does it feel as good for you as it does for me?” You ask, glancing from his lips to his face. He shakes his head gently.

“It feels good for you because of our saliva.” Jaemin explains. “But it doesn’t feel bad when you do it, it’s just-” He makes a vague gesture with his hand as if trying to pull the words out of thin air. “It’s very intimate.”

He licks his lips, then, digs his teeth back into his bottom lip. It’s a subconscious movement but you still lean in to press a kiss over where the blood pricks up, nipping just hard enough to have a growl rumbling in Jaemin’s chest before soothing the wound with your tongue. You pull away and smile, licking the blood off of your lips.

You don’t even have time to make a witty remark over how affected Jaemin looks because he’s pulling you onto his lap, crashing your lips together with enough force that you’re sure they’ll bruise. It draws a moan from you and Jaemin eagerly drinks it in, fisting his hand in your hair and deepening the kiss.

A gasp leaves you when he pulls away, trails his lips down your throat. You tense in anticipation, a whine getting trapped in your throat when his fangs just barely scrape the skin. He leaves a wet kiss there, pulling away to look up at you. “Want me to bite you, baby?”

“God, yeah.” You moan out, tilting your head to expose more of your neck.

“Ah, I’d rather you didn’t say that name in my house.” Jaemin laughs. He moves back to your throat, digging his fangs into the spot he’d marked. There’s less pain this time, pleasure coursing through you almost instantly. You whine and tighten your grip on his hair.

Electricity runs through your veins as Jaemin takes what he wants, marking up your body. You breathe out something along the lines of “want more” and Jaemin takes it to heart, scooping you up and carrying you to his room in record time. He tosses you onto the mattress, crawling over you not even a second later to press his lips to yours.

He fits himself easily between your legs, rocking his hips down in a rare show of desperation. You can feel exactly how affected he is, his hardness pressing deliciously against your core. Another plea of “more” is whispered against his lips and he doesn’t need any more encouragement, pulling away to move further down your body. He kisses and nips his way down your torso, pushing your shirt up to reveal more skin to him, dropping kiss after kiss to the sensitive skin just above the waistband of your pants. Your core throbs at the feeling of having him so close to you and you squirm, trying to spread your legs more, trying to articulate that you need something, anything.

“J-Jaemin, take them off.” You whine, pushing at the waistband. “I need you.”

The coldness of his hands brushing against your skin when he drags your pants down has you shivering, squirming. He tosses your clothing to the floor and wastes no time attaching his lips to the inside of your thigh, holding you down when you squirm.

“Is this okay?” Jaemin asks, concern mixing with his arousal. He brushes his index finger over your pussy, making your back arch in an effort to get him closer to where you need him.

“More than.” Despite your assurances, Jaemin doesn’t touch you. He moves his hand up to your abdomen, flattening his palm to keep you pinned down. You whine in annoyance, but the teeth dragging over your inner thigh has you shutting up. A gasp leaves you before he even sinks his fangs in, your pussy absolutely throbbing with need. He presses another gentle kiss to the skin and, raising his gaze to make eye contact with you, bites you.

It’s more intense than when he bit your neck or your chest. It sets your body on fire in the best of ways, leaves you writhing under his touch. Your eyes roll in your head and your hands flail in an effort to grab something, anything to ground yourself. It’s amazing, and just when you think you’ve reached heaven, he touches you.

You’re soaking wet and Jaemin’s fingers slide into you effortlessly, fill you up so well. It’s too much effort to keep your eyes open and so you let them drift shut, let yourself fall into the bliss. There’s pressure against your lips and you open your eyes to find Jaemin hovering over you, sliding two fingers past your lips. You didn’t even realize he’d stopped biting you.

“Suck.” He commands, and who are you to disobey? You wrap your lips around the digits and hum at the taste of yourself, at the weight of them in your mouth. “Taste good, baby?” “Mhmm, yeah.” Your words are slurred around the digits and you suck even harder around them, letting your tongue trace patterns around them. Jaemin swears softly and grinds down against your thigh.

He presses one more kiss to your lips before sliding down your body. “My turn to taste.”

Maybe there should be some sort of alarm going through your system when Jaemin lowers his mouth to your core. Some sort of reminder that he has some very sharp fangs, that he has just bit you in multiple places, and that his fangs are right in the place that fangs should never be. But it feels heavenly when he licks a stripe between your folds, when he fucks his tongue into your hole. His hands keep you pinned to the mattress, super strength coming in handy to control your squirming.

The pleasure consumes you and it’s so much, too much, and your eyes want to squeeze shut but Jaemin looks up at you and his gaze is magnetic, making it impossible to look away from him. Your body’s on fire, burning brighter with every flick of his tongue, every moan he lets out into your core. He pulls away to drop his head to the apex of your thigh, digging his fangs into the delicate skin there, and you can’t fight the scream that rips from your throat. You’re babbling, chanting incoherent words as you try to explain how good it feels, how you never want him to stop. His hair is soft in your grip and it’s the only thing keeping you anchored, the only thing preventing you from drowning in pleasure.

“You taste so good, baby.” Jaemin moans, pulling away momentarily to make a show of licking his lips. “Everything about you is so delicious.” He returns to your core, lapping at your hole before flicking his tongue over your clit, laughing at how your body jolts. There’s nothing but hunger in his eyes as he sucks your clit between his lips, fucking two fingers into your needy cunt. He does it again, hitting all of your sensitive spots, making you scream with bliss as you finally tip over the edge.

Wave after wave of euphoria crash into you and your lungs burn as your gasp for air. You’re drowning in the best way possible, surrounded by nothing but pleasure and Jaemin, Jaemin, Jaemin.

He works you through it with gentle flicks of his tongue, hands smoothing over your thighs to bring you back down. You manage to find enough strength to shove at his head when it gets to be too much, tiredly sinking into the mattress when he pulls away. Jaemin wipes at his mouth and bends down to kiss you lazily, nipping at your lip just to hear you whine. He smooths your hair down and brushes a few strands out of your face, smiling down at how fucked out you are. And you’d be content to lay wrapped in his arms, with Jaemin cooing softly at how pretty you are and petting your head, but you can feel how hard he is.

“Jaemin,” You murmur, shifting in his hold. “Jaem, wanna make you feel good.” “It’s alright, you don’t h- oh, shit baby- you don’t have to.” He has to fight to get the words out, a groan interrupting his sentence when you grab at his cock. You pout at him and manage to tug his pants down just enough for you to pull him out.

“But I want to.” You smile, leaning up for a kiss. Jaemin doesn’t bother replying, just presses his lips back to yours and melts into your touch. The way you jerk him off is lazy, your energy drained from how intense your orgasm was. Though with the way Jaemin groans against your lips and tightens his grip on your hip, you don’t think that he minds.

He moans your name when he comes, a beautiful sound that has your stomach twisting with heat. White spills over your knuckles and onto his stomach and you bring your hand up to your mouth, licking at it curiously. Jaemin watches you with heavy lids before collapsing onto the mattress.

“Fuck,” He sighs, eyelids drifting shut. “Why’re you so good to me?” “Why are you so good to me?” You mumble back in response, curling up into him. “Thanks for not biting my pussy.” Something about that sets Jaemin off and his body shakes with the laughter running through him. A giggle leaves you. “What?” Jaemin shakes his head, still laughing. “Nothing. Come on, gotta get you some food.”

And that’s how it goes. You and Jaemin continue to hook up, although he does end up saying ‘fuck it’ and attempting to actually teach you chemistry. Despite Mark’s fears, he doesn’t end up killing you. He’s a lot of fun to be around, plus he keeps his pantry stocked with various snacks. Sometimes he even cooks for you, if he’s feeling nice.

“What’s a vampire doing with all this food?” You ask one day, watching him make fried rice. He doesn’t respond, just staring down at the pan and offering you a shrug, though you swear you see him blush.

Your professor raises your grade to a C. It’s not stellar but it also isn’t failing, which you will happily take. There’s only a little bit of guilt when she beams at you while telling you how happy Jeno is with your dedication to the project.

Jeno continues to take blood samples, and you continue to not tell him that you’ve been bitten. It eats you up inside, but Jaemin’s always there to reassure you. Whether he’s trying to comfort you or himself more is up for debate.

Everything stays the same except for Mark.

He gets more distant, grows a little more resentful. There’s no smiles or teasing jokes, except for the polite ones he flashes in front of your parents. He starts to make up lies, too, which is something you promised to never do. Excuses to get him out of plans, saying there’s nothing wrong. And your best friend, the most timid, nicest boy you’ve ever met, begins to pick petty fights with you.

You’re over it, and it bothers you even if you try not to let it show. Jaemin rubs your back and tells you it’ll be okay, but you know it won’t. Because Jaemin’s the reason that Mark’s distant. And you have no plans to stop seeing him.

Talking to Jaemin, you’re sure Mark would have liked him if the circumstances were different. If Mark didn’t hate vampires so much, or if Jaemin were just a regular human college student like you. But those aren’t the circumstances, and so you have to deal with Mark’s whiny ass showing up at your door to drag you to church.

“Mark, it’s Thursday night.” You groan, shaking your textbook at him. “I have work to do!”

“Yeah, you also have praying to do.” Mark snaps, grabbing the book out of your hands. “Not like you even understand this.”

Which, ouch, that kind of hurts. Especially when Mark knows that you’re frustrated that you can’t get the subject down even though you try. You glare at him and reach for the book. “Mark, give it back. And I actually do understand this, Jaemin’s been helping-” “Helping what? Taint you? Turn you into one of their blood whores?” Mark grabs the book back and throws it across the room. “Y/n, come on. I’m not letting this happen to you too.” He pulls you after him despite your grumbling, though he at least has the decency to let you put shoes on. Just because you go freely doesn’t mean you’re happy about it, complaining as Mark drags you through the city. “Jesus Christ Mark, has it ever occurred to you that Donghyuck had free will? That he willingly chose to be with her because he loved her?” You’re fed up with Mark, fed up with everyone. “God Mark, they’re not that bad!” Mark stares at you for a moment. “What, they’re brainwashing you too? How is it that both you and your brother are so dumb? I know you weren’t raised like this.”

“Well at least I wasn’t raised to be such an ignorant asshole.” You snap. “I have the ability to make my own decisions, something you apparently lack.” “Oh, so what’s that supposed to mean?” Mark stops walking suddenly, crossing his arms as he waits for an answer. You open your mouth to yell at him when a flash of movement catches your eyes. Squinting, you make out a group of guys, and they’re close enough that you can hear them laughing when one of them wipes… is that blood on his mouth? “Mark, we have to go.” You whisper. The vampires don’t see you and you’re hoping that you can get the two of you out of there safely. “Come on-” “No, tell me what you mean!” Mark yells, stubbornly standing in place. You groan and try to drag him away but he doesn’t budge. “Come on y/n, tell me what you fucking mean.” You shoot a worried glance over your shoulder, surprised when you don’t see the vampires. There’s a second of relief, lasting only until you turn around to find them standing right behind Mark. You squeak in surprise. Mark freezes too, one of the men having grabbed him by the shoulders. His face presses way too close to Mark’s neck and you jump when you feel hands on your own shoulders.

“Aww, lover’s spat?” The guy holding Mark laughs. “That’s okay, we’ve all been there, right guys?” The rest of his friends cackle in the creepiest way that you can imagine. “Come on, we can resolve this.” You and Mark look back and forth between each other worriedly. There’s no way out of this, you realize. No way to even try.

“Don’t you wanna know how we can resolve this?” This time the guy holding you speaks and it’s so close to your ear that you flinch, nearly jumping out of your skin. He laughs and his fangs graze your skin, but it doesn’t send pleasure through you like when Jaemin does it. It sends chills down your spine, makes you want to cry. “Answer me.” “N-no.” You stutter out, eyes squeezed shut in fear. “Please, just let us go.” The guy sighs and lets go of you. “Alright.” You and Mark share a look before bolting, adrenaline pumping through your veins. Freedom only lasts for a second before you’re being grabbed again, yanked backwards.

“Stupid girl. I don’t appreciate being told no.” You whimper and you can hear Mark screaming your name, screaming for help, screaming for anything.

It’s the last thing you hear.

“Jaemin, you’re an idiot. Literally the dumbest person I know.” There’s a familiar voice swimming through your head and you try to move towards it, finding your entire body feels drained.

“Yes, I’ve been told.” Is that Jaemin’s voice? It sounds a lot clearer, drags you out of the darkness. “But look, it ended up being good, right? She’s alive.” You finally manage to pry your eyes open and immediately regret it, slamming them shut and curling into yourself. A groan leaves you and the two stop talking. “Y/N? Baby, it’s me.” There’s a hand on your cheek, brushing against the skin gently, and you press into his touch. “How are you feeling?” “Bad.” You croak out through a dry throat, cringing at how dry it feels. Jaemin laughs softly and something presses to your lips. “Here, drink this.”

You didn’t realize how hungry you were until you get the first taste, and then suddenly you find the strength in your body to take gulp after gulp of the drink. It brings a little bit of warmth to your body, makes you feel less achy. You even manage to pry your eyelids open.

Jeno and Jaemin greet you, both men looking relieved. Jaemin beams at you, dipping down for a kiss. “Hey baby.” “What happened?” You frown, trying to remember how you got to Jaemin’s couch. “Did I- I was walking to the church and we were attacked.” Oh shit, you weren’t alone. You search frantically around the room. “Did Mark- is he okay?” The thought of your best friend- no matter how strained your relationship was at the end- dying is too much for you to handle.

Jaemin smiles. “He’s the one that brought you to me.”

“He’s okay?” Jeno nods in confirmation.

“They only wanted to kill for fun, guess you were enough.” Jeno says. “Speaking of killing, Jaemin has a lot of explaining to do. And since I don’t trust him to do a good job, I’m going to stay here!” You look between the two. “Kill? Am I- I’m dead?” Jaemin makes a face. “Fucking- I’m a vampire?” Your words come out shrill and the two boys cringe.

“Yeah, sorry.” Jaemin scratches the back of his neck. “My bad. But, um, I’ll take care of you! Don’t worry.” Then, to Jeno: “Come on man, can’t we have a second of peace? I literally never thought I was going to see her again.” Jeno sighs, glaring at his friend before walking away. “Dramatic.”

You’re in Jaemin’s arms in the next second, held close to his chest. “Fuck y/n, I’m so sorry.” His voice is shaky and he keeps his face pressed into your neck. “This is all my fault, I don’t know how I’m going to make it up to you.” “We’ll figure it out later.” You tug at his hair to get him to look you in the eyes. “I almost died, Jaemin. Give me a headache later. Right now…” You trail off, letting your lips stretch wide. “Kiss me.” It draws a snort from Jaemin. “You were dead like an hour ago and now you want to fuck?” “No!” You whine and smack his chest. “I just want a kiss, get your mind out of the gutter.” Jaemin teases you some more, making you laugh and smack him to stop before you finally say fuck it and pull him closer, smashing your lips together. He smiles into the kiss, wrapping his arms around your body. You have a lot to worry about, but you’ve also got all the time in the world to worry about it. It makes you sick to think about, and for now, you want to just relax. Not that Jaemin seems to mind, happily letting you curl into his chest, stroking your head. You’re not alone, you have Jaemin, and you know he’ll help you through this.

+ You’re not expecting a welcome home party. You’re also not expecting to find all of your belongings scattered across the front yard, having very clearly been chucked from your bedroom window.

“Lovely.” You scoff, staring at the mess. The front door has the biggest cross you’ve ever seen nailed to it, complete with the silver door knob that you promptly burn yourself on. You stare at the door, wondering if you should knock. It swings open before you make your mind up.

Mark stares back at you with wide eyes and parted lips. “Y/n? You’re alive?”

“Hey, Mark.” You smile, tight lipped. “Jaemin told me you saved me.”

Mark looks like he’s about to say something but then his mouth closes and he shakes his head. “Y/n, you- you’re a vampire now. I can’t.” Mark doesn’t look you in the eye when he says it and you scoff, rolling your eyes. “I’m sorry.” “I’m sorry.” You mock, shaking your head. “No you’re not. If you were sorry, you would fucking look me in the eyes.” He doesn’t. “You know it’s your fault I’m like this, right?” That gets him to look up at you. There’s fire in his eyes this time. “No, it’s your fault for whoring around with vampires.” You shake your head. “Who made me go to church that night?” He looks away and doesn’t answer the question. “Good bye, Mark.”

#nct smut #nct dream smut #nct fic #nct dream fic #jaemin smut #jaemin fic #jaemin fanfiction #jaemin vampire #na jaemin smut #kpop smut #supernatural nct #dream smut #kpop scenario #nct scenario #nct dream scenario #jaemin scenario

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startanewdream · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! Only if you are comfortable, can you please write something funny where James and Lily live and James gives Harry the sex talk?

Thanks:)

Hi, Chhavi!

It turned out that this was embarrassing for Harry, James, Lily and me. Also, it turned out I am not capacitated to give sex advice, so there is a lot of interrupted scenes in which I hope James and Lily were good parents and gave good advice to Harry.

I supposed The Talk 1.0 was very ordinary and given in a moment that Harry did not really even see girls yet, so here is The Talk 2.0 when Harry is already dating Ginny, so it’s really more awkward for everyone 🙃.

So here it is and I hope you enjoy this silly fun piece of James and Lily being responsible parents, with a little bit of Jily and Hinny.

________________________

The Talk 2.0

(Rated T but, you know, it’s The Talk, so sex is mentioned)

‘Do we really need to do this?’, James asks, for the third time, as he and Lily are going up the stairs.

Lily sighs.

‘We talked about it, James. Yes, we need’.

‘I’ve talked to him before, Lily. Harry knows about - well - you know what he knows about'.

She raises her eyebrows.

‘The fact that you can’t say “sex” in the same sentence as your son’s name isn’t really giving me confidence’.

He flushes, mumbling to himself, his arms crossed as Lily knocks on Harry’s room.

‘Neither did you’, he grumbles at least.

‘What?’

‘You didn’t say “Harry” and you-know-what in the same sentence either’.

‘Oh, hi’, Harry says weakly, refusing to look in their direction. 'I was just about to sleep now -'

‘We need to talk, Harry’, Lily says, and James admires how her voice doesn’t show any of the anxiety he knows she feels too.

As much adamant as Lily is of having The Talk 2.0, neither of them is thrilled by having to do that.

Harry’s hand goes automatically to his hair, messing it without even realizing what he is doing, and James recognizes his own quirk there.

‘Everything is fine, Harry’, he says soothingly. ‘Why don’t we just go downstairs for a nice chat?’

Harry sighs deeply, looking like he would very much face Voldemort again than talking with his parents right now, but he nods.

They go to the living room, and Harry sinks on the armchair, leaving James and Lily to sit right on the couch right in front of him. James winces; all this feels too much like a lecture and he can’t fault Harry for looking at his knees with a half-guilty half-annoyed expression on his face.

‘I am sorry, ok?’, he says suddenly. ‘I - I forgot to lock the door and… it won’t happen again’.

‘Which part?’, James asks before he can stop himself. ‘You and Ginny snogging in your bedroom or Lily catching you?’

They both look at James without smiling, but he will defend the whole situation is a little bit funny.

Of course, he would feel different if he had been the one to arrive in his house in the middle of the afternoon and heard a cry coming from his son’s bedroom and had opened to find… whatever Lily had found.

She hadn’t given him full details other than saying it involved some stage of undressing and James hadn’t asked, but he knew it had been awkward enough that Ginny had not stayed for dinner and, as far as he knew, few things would really embarrass his favourite future daughter-in-law. Or probably Ginny knew the dinner would be equally uncomfortable. If that was the case, she had been smart; neither Harry nor Lily had said one word to another all night, refusing to meet each other’s eyes, both in a mix of embarrassment and anger.

Then, after dinner, Lily had summoned James to have The Talk 2.0 with Harry, despite James’ insistence that he had already talked to Harry five years ago.

‘Five years ago he didn’t have a girlfriend’.

‘I am pretty sure things are still the same, Lily’, he had argued, but Lily ignored him.

‘Harry’, Lily begins, with as much dignity as she can muster. 'This is not just about what happened early'.

‘You scold me in front of her’, Harry accuses, crossing his arms. ‘Then you made her leave like… Like if we were doing something wrong’.

Lily closes her face.

‘I didn't want Ginny to leave, of course not, but… I won’t be the bad guy, here, Harry. You were the one who was - who brought your girlfriend in the middle of the afternoon without telling us first’.

‘I told you she was coming by’, he mumbles.

‘For dinner. That usually means late in the day, you know’. She gives him a knowing look. ‘Did Molly know she was here with you?’

This makes Harry narrow his eyes.

‘Is that a threat?’, he asks, even more annoyed, and James sees it’s time to intervene.

‘No one is threatening anything and, no, we won’t mention it to anyone’, he says, placing his hand around Lily’s shoulder to calm her too. It’s really unusual for her and Harry to argue, but their fights are the worst if he doesn’t interrupt them before their emotions are too high. ‘We just need to set some - ah - coexistence rules’.

‘And before that’, Lily continues, seeming more in control. ‘We need to talk to you about some important things. And, yes, it’s a sex talk’.

Harry grimaces.

‘I - Dad already talked to me, you don’t really -’

‘No?’, challenges Lily, raising her eyebrows and James suddenly wishes to warn Harry of the danger there. ‘Do you really think you know everything?’

‘I get the biology part and - well - if you must know - Ron got me a book -’

‘“Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches”?’, Lily scoffs. ‘That book doesn’t cover anything’.

‘You know that book?’, James asks, surprised, and Harry looks at him.

‘Do you know that book?’

James rolls his eyes.

‘My old dad got me and Sirius one when we were fifteen’.

‘The fact that you still took two more years to finally date me should show you the quality of the book’, Lily teases, looking amused. 'Besides, that book is really outdated’.

‘It seemed complete’, Harry murmurs, but he looks uneasy as if he is worried about what content the book is lacking.

‘Well, the book didn’t tell you to cast a simple Silencing Charm on the door, did it?’, Lily points out, making Harry blush. ‘So, yes, we will talk’.

Harry grumbles, but he nods. There is a moment of silence, and James sees Lily debating with herself how she will start. She takes a deep breath.

‘It is normal that you and Ginny want to take your relationship to the next step, but I just want you to think if you are ready - oh, don’t give me that look’.

‘You are talking like if we were kids’.

‘I meant that you’ve been dating for only two months and it’s your first serious relationship’.

‘We started dating more than one year ago actually’, Harry corrects, with a shadow of a smile on his lips.

‘I thought you broke up with her for her own safety?’, Lily counters, narrowing her eyes, and that wipes out any amusement on Harry’s face. ‘Any more sassy comments?’

James thinks it’s rather ironic that Lily is criticizing Harry for saying anything sassy, but he is not stupid enough to note this.

‘What your mother means -’, he says instead ‘- is that you shouldn’t rush into things. Did you two talk about it?’

‘No’, Harry admits. ‘We weren’t really… we were just… Look, we weren’t going to have sex today, ok? Can’t you just drop it?’

His face is all red and Harry looks really upset, though James can't say if it's for saying that out loud or because of what he said.

‘Well, you two might someday’, Lily says gently, all her motherly instincts emerging at the sight of Harry’s distress. ‘And when that happens, we want you two to be careful and to know what you are doing’.

‘Nobody knows what they are doing the first time, Lily’, James murmurs and they exchange a fond look that makes them both smile softly, thinking of questions whispered in the middle of the night and nervousness and that happy feeling of finally...

‘Well, keep looking at each other like that and it’s the best way to keep my mind out of it’, Harry grumbles, looking purposely at the ceiling.

James chuckles.

‘We don’t want to talk you out of it - mostly because it won’t work. We really just want you two to be safe - you know, your mum and I are way too young to be grandparents’.

The red in Harry’s face increases.

‘Do you know contraceptive charms and potions?’, Lily asks, all business again. ‘Or even better, use the muggle way - it prevents a lot of diseases too, you can never be too safe…’.

Harry mumbles something under his breath.

‘What was that?’

‘I have bought condoms’, he says in the lowest voice he can manage.

Lily and James carefully avoid making eye contact.

‘And you know how to use them?’, James asks, a bit afraid of Harry’s answer.

‘Yeah, you don’t need to - let’s not do that banana thing, ok? I saw Mr. Weasley talking to Ron… and it was weird enough’.

There is another moment of silence.

‘Fine’, James says lightly. ‘Then let’s talk about those charms too, right? It’s always good to be prepared for all occasions…’

__________________

It’s well past midnight when James knocks on Harry’s door. After a few seconds, Harry opens it.

‘May I enter?’, James asks, all formal, since they agreed on a few rules minutes ago.

Asking permission before entering Harry’s room. If Ginny is in his room, the door will be open slightly at least when his parents are home. Letting them know before-hand if Ginny will be visiting (they won’t ever forbid it). She can spend the night but in another room until she is out of age. No using the Invisibility Cloak to visit her at night.

That last one James seriously doubted it when Lily and Harry agreed to it, but he didn’t say anything.

He would not betray Lily’s secrets for Harry and he would not deny his son the better use for that Cloak.

‘Sure’, Harry says, giving him space. James sits on the edge of Harry’s bed, while Harry lays lazily against the pillows of his bed.

His son seems more at ease now the safe sex talk has ended. James supposes there are few subjects that could be more awkward. It almost makes James miss talking about Horcruxes and pieces of Voldemort’s soul.

‘Here’, James shows him a key.

‘What is that?’

‘There is a cabin in the woods if you follow the trail leaving our backdoor, just a ten-minute walk. It’s where we used to turn with Remus in the Full Moon’.

‘And why are you giving it to me?’, Harry asks, bewildered. His parents always forbade him of going alone in the woods and that was one of the few rules Harry had actually followed all his life.

‘Well, obviously we aren’t using anymore, and it’s a nice cozy place. All equipped, with fireplace and a small living room, bathroom and -’, James takes a deep breath. ‘- there is a double bed too’.

‘Oh’.

‘I am not naive, Harry, and I remember what it was like being seventeen - well, all your mum and I wanted with that talk was make sure you two are safe. Not to disturb you or anything - and trust me, it was far more awkward for us than it was for you’.

He laughs.

‘I truly doubt it’, Harry says, and for a moment they share an equally embarrassed look before Harry tentatively grabs the key. ‘So… I am just free to use it?’

James sighs. ‘I trust you not to rush things, Harry. And I thought… we don’t want to catch you in an awkward position - not again - and… you two deserve some time alone without worrying if anyone is going to interrupt you. So… whenever you two are ready, it will be there’.

‘Oh’, Harry is blushing, his face radiating heat. ‘Thanks, dad’.

‘It was your mother’s idea, actually’, James says, grinning when Harry looks surprised. ‘She was just concerned for you, Harry, not really mad. And… besides everything we talked before, which is important and you should keep in mind for your and Ginny’s safety… remember to be patient, ok?’

Harry blinks, confused, and James sighs heavily. That’s your job, he says to himself. You remember how things were far from perfect in the beginning.

‘Just… be gentle. Always care more about her than about yourself - and always asks if she is comfortable. If she says no, or if she regrets starting it, no matter what are you doing, you stop’.

James expects Harry to argue with him at the obviousness of what he is saying, but surprisingly, Harry just nods, seeming to be concentrating on recording James’ words.

‘And then, if you are both ok with it… You two take your time. It’s normal to not know what you are doing at first, but you will only learn if you talk to each other and listen to each other, okay? This is actually very important’.

‘What if -’, Harry hesitates, before looking at his own hand. ‘- and what if I am not good? What if I mess it up so much that she never -’

‘Harry’, James interrupts him softly. ‘As I said, no one knows what they are doing. So… you discover together. You are in love with her, right?'

His face reddens, but to Harry’s credit, he doesn't deny his feelings.

'Yes', he admits in a whisper, sounding more fascinated by it than flustered.

James smiles.

'Then you let that feeling turn into something good for both of you'.

‘It's because of what I feel that - I am afraid, I mean... Can I - can I make it good? For her?’

James sighs.

‘Yeah, actually… I suppose there are things you could know that would help… But let’s say it very objectively, ok? You do know I almost think of Ginny as my daughter, right?’

That makes Harry let out an unexpected laugh.

‘I hope not too much’, he says, playfully. ‘Because I really don’t have brotherly feelings for her'.

James rolls his eyes.

‘Yeah, I got that covered. Well, I think we already had this conversation once, but I’m sure you were too busy when you were thirteen to think this would ever be important. So, a woman’s body -’

_______________________

James feels tired and much older when he finally enters his and Lily’s room.

‘You took long enough’, Lily says teasingly, and James sees she is in a far better mood than a couple of hours before, lying lazily in the bed, already under the blanket.

‘It is your fault. “The Talk 2.0”, you said, it will be fun’.

She smirks, turning to him as James lies down heavily on the bed.

‘I never said it would be fun, just that we needed to do it. I know you have all these white hairs already, and I don’t deny it would be cute, but I really don’t want any grandchildren yet. You know, I just want -’

‘That Harry gets to finally enjoy his life’, James acknowledges. ‘Yeah, I know. Me too’.

She sighs happily, getting closer to him, and James sees her naked collarbone when she places her hand over his chest, casually opening the buttons of his shirt.

Hummmm.

‘Now - I know it’s late - but I kept thinking of a summer night twenty years ago…’

‘I try to forget that night’.

‘Really?’, challenges Lily, looking at him, and James has a deja-vu of that same night.

They had been dating for a while, and while he had been untroubled and quite satisfied with everything they had done together on empty classrooms, he had felt guilty of taking a step further with Lily despite the fact that his body kept making it perfectly clear how much he wanted her and Lily kept giving all signs that she wanted more too. His trouble conscience had been solved when Lily had appeared on his bed in the Boy’s Dorm Room on a summer night, hidden under his Invisibility Cloak.

She hadn’t been wearing anything under the Cloak.

‘So, Potter? Do you want your Cloak back?’, she had whispered to him, in a trembling voice that mixed braveness and challenge and that time his guilt had paled in comparison with everything else he felt for her.

He smiles at the memory.

‘Well, I just like to think I improved a lot since then, you know’.

‘You did’, she agrees playfully. ‘But I remember fondly of that night - it was the first time you said you loved me’.

‘Of course I was in love with you’, James notes as if it's obvious. ‘Why do you think I let you take away all my innocence?'

‘You were never innocent’, Lily disagrees, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

‘Oh, I was. So pure. But there was this redhead girl that totally bewitched me’.

‘Redhead girl? Seems to run in the family’.

‘What can I say? We Potters have one weakness’.

‘Hmmm’, she sighs, letting her hand slide over his chest and then down. There is a satisfied smile on her lips. ‘It doesn’t seem much weak right now’.

James grins, pulling Lily so she gets above him. The blanket falls and, just like on that summer night, she is not wearing anything under.

‘As I said, bewitched’, he agrees, trying to kiss her, but Lily laughs and stops him to take her wand in the nightstand.

‘Let’s set the example, shall we?’, she points her wand to the door. ‘Silencio!’

#Eyes Glistening #Jily Lives #James and Lily give the Talk #Jily Fanfic #Harry and James and Lily #everyone is embarrassed #it's so awkward #t: fanfiction

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silkybullets · 4 years ago

Text

“Death Call”

Midland Hotel, 1925, sitting alone at a table the evening before Christmas, Tommy's icy eyes met with a face he never had ever thought of seeing again, not whilst being alive at least. Which lead us back to Birmingham, 1914, after he volunteered in Small Heath rifles, he spent his last couple of months home holding your hand in the hospital, watching your colours fade as dying of an unknown disease.

Warnings: English is my second language.

Words: around 2k

Tommy just ordered a drink, adding to that a whore, a brand new one in honor of Christmas when he initially went to light his cigarette. His eyes drifted to a table further away where a woman was already sitting down. He did recognize her, remembering the sweet touch of an old lover. His stiffened body didn’t receive the orders to continue moving sent by his brain, his mind too occupied playing memories of before the war. Before it all begins, or all ends, depending which side you’re looking.

One the other side of the room, you were searching the pockets of your woolen coat. When you finally found your cigarette case, you got one out, sliding it in between your soft lips. After pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, you hassled lightening up your cig and welcomed the poison in your lungs as if it was the purest thing.

The waiter came closer to you, putting down your rhum, which you drank in one go and ordered another one. It’s been a couple months you didn’t drink and, after this first shot you don’t remember why. When doctors failed to diagnose you and closed your file with a lung disease you were young and never tasted the flavor of the liquid poison. But at the cliff of death, God granted you the wish to live.

Too bad that’s when your memories of endless & lonely drinking nights happened.

Coming from a christian family, it was no question for them you had been chosen by God to do something great in this world. Pushing their luck they sent you to an orphanage run by nuns to pay your debts to God. When their initial idea was to keep you pure for as long as you were to be alive, you chose a different path for yourself, bounged down into alcohol, drugs and whatever came with it.

Saying you were a non-believer would be too much, but the idea of being some kind of “chosen one” was nonsense to you, that just meant death was right under your nose or waiting for you at the corner of the street. What happened next was logical consequence, your depraved self was sent back home after the nuns numerous warnings were ignored. You did not change, and decided not to.

When being saved or witnessing a miracle helps people get their life in order, it had the reverse effect on you and you had yet to get your shit together.

When they recommended you to drastically change your ways for the sake of your family if not for you, you gave in. You had siblings, and knowing how hard your family could be on them at times, you didn’t want to leave them alone. But your good will ended tonight.

You looked at the filled glass in front of you for what seemed like an eternity, weighting the pros and cons of getting drunk tonight and all the other after that one. You being dead or alive it’ll be okay for your family, you assured yourself to avoid feeling guilty for choosing not to fight.

Ten minutes and three empty cups later, you were ordering another one. The waiter was intently looking at you, concerned, while you were ignoring his pout.

“You sure you want rhum, ma’m, Can I bring you something else, gin perhaps?” He was as smooth as one could, but the implicit meaning behind his words irritated you the most.

“Do I look like I’m sad, eh? Tell me ‘cause I don’t look at meself in mirrors these days.” You begin, agitating your fingers that were holding another cigarette.

“Gin’s for sad women, whiskey for big boys crying, rhum for people like me: We are not sad enough for trying to drown our pain in gin, not hopeless alcoholics enough to to get drunk with something as tasteless as whisky. We simply enjoy a slow death with a sweet and spicy flavor. Please bring me the whole bottle this time.”

Without realizing it, you offered the man the warmest smile he had seen tonight and he gave one back even if still quite taken aback by your confusing revelation.

Tommy had seen enough, he got up throwing a bill near his drink and cleared his throat for lack of clearing his head. He walked to the table, the woman he once knew was seated, his voice already reaching her ears before their eyes would meet.

“Is this seat taken?” He motioned to the second chair around the table. Finishing another glass she invited him to sit down with a move of hand. Her cigarette in between her lips, she poured some rhum into her glass and ultimately lifted her eyes to his face.

“Are you sick of the hotel whore, Thomas? Am not one if this is your question.” She blinked as puffing on her cig.

“Merry Christmas to you too, Y/N” He coughed. “See you haven’t changed a bit.”

“Nor did you.”

Lies, it was all lies, if it wasn’t her eyes he hadn’t recognized her. The woman he was in love with was long gone and so was the boy who loved her.

“So OBE it is, now?” She looked up to him.

He stayed in her eyes before daring to speak, and break the eye contact.

“You were always used to call me Tommy, we can stick to that.”

She didn’t respond nor look at him, keeping for herself any emotions his words had unleashed into her, if they did.

“What happened to you?” He spoke in a more vibrant ton. An attempt to ease the heavy atmosphere.

“War happened to us, Tom.”

His eyes snapped open on her.

“What France did to you, remaining alive did to me.” She offered him a fair smile, looking straight at him with the same piercing gleam hiding behind her iris than when they were younger.

“We all came back alive. John, Arthur, Freddie... Although they are now some missing pieces.”

“Yeah, fucking pieces spilled everywhere. It’s looking like the puzzles we used to play when we were younger, huh? Does that ring any bell?” She giggles.

It was hard for him to read her, he didn’t know what he felt either.

He stayed at the hospital three months straight holding her hand as her colors were fading. He remembers vividly how difficult it was for her to breath, speak, even keeping her eyes open was a huge sacrifice. But she’d never compromised to keep them shut as he told her to, his face gave him the strength of an army, as she used to say. And that had him laugh, even though now he doesn’t remember the last time something as close as a laugh came out his throat.

“Don’t get fucking lost in memories, Thomas. Just ask for it.”

She poured some liquor into her glass and slowly slid it to Tommy as if anticipating him telling her he didn’t want it.

He watched her moves with amusement, it was odd to him to find her here, but even more peculiar was the fact it seems like she knew him still. Like those ten years that separated them weren’t there, like there wasn’t a day they didn’t think about the other fondly. Her gaze didn’t leave his, and he knew exactly where her mind was because his own was at the same place. She was getting all the information she could to try to match his now tired face with the one she had been picturing in her head all those years.

“Okay then.” he nodded. “ Where have you been?”

A smile appeared at the corner of his lips, they were playing a game he couldn’t only play with her, she was the one girl before France, everyone got their advantages.

“Fucking dying of being alive after I got strunk by some miracle.” She raised a brow as if to voice the displeasure of missing the boat.

“I thought you were dead.”

“I wish I was, Tommy.”

He let out a long sigh. Once again he failed at keeping a light atmosphere. It was to be said she wasn’t any help.

That’s when he realized no matter how it felt like they were still the same teenagers, back in 1914 before everybody got fucked up, no matter how hard the memories were hitting him this exact same instant with their first kiss, their first touch and the first time they exchanged their desire to live a life together, they were not the same. Nothing was.

She was only a mere shadow of herself, and he? He couldn’t even look at her in the eyes for more than five minutes, too afraid it would dig out things that must be kept where they were nowhere to be found for his own sake.

Every little thing about before France hurt him. Even the happy throwbacks, especially the happy throwbacks. Knowing he would never feel those feelings again, never get silly about the breeze meeting with his skin or the rising of the sun at the top of a hill killed him most. That’s why he didn’t want to ask more about what happened to her. But at the same time, the questions came naturally to him, as if he waited all along to throw them out, taking off his chest a weight he never realized to initially be there.

“Have you done better after I left?”

“I did. For a time. Some years, in fact, even though my parents sent me to a nunnery to thank God for his mercy.”

He snorted at her words.

“Why doesn’t it surprise me? They were always about keeping you saint, even asked me to fucking give up on taking you running in the fields to watch the night sky until sun rised, they never thought it could be the other way around, you leading me.”

She laughed at this thought.

“Don’t you dare say this as if you disliked me being the lead, Tommy Shelby.” She sneered.

“No, I indeed liked it.” He shook his head without hesitation.

“If only they knew what we did, in those nights.” They both spoke, their voice overlapping along with their minds.

“Tommy you got to follow me, or else we’ll be too late.”

“Let me catch a breath, we got all the time to come up the hill some other nights.”

“Don’t be silly, it’s tonight the fireballs are going to be running in the sky!”

“You aware it’s not called “fireball” and that they are not ‘running’ in the sky?”

The girl stuck her tongue out, turning to him, her eyes mechanically squinted at the move. She did not realize he was right behind her and faked all along still behind at the feet of the hill to annoy her. His body strongly collided with her, making her stagger but Tommy’s arms locked her waist firmly, avoiding her body from meeting the ground, and his lips dropped on her mouth in a second, she couldn’t even close her eyes during the kiss.

“Stop it!” Her suave voice worded as one of her hands went hitting his chest, even if her deepest desire was for him not to let go of her lips.

“I’m thinking about that one night we first fucked. Bodies wet both by sweat and dew“ She muttered.

He was sitting but naked on the grass, his fingers intertwined in her hair that was falling at her back as holding her tightly. She was the type of flowers you thought were beautiful but couldn’t help but rip off the ground, dooming them to die in your hands.

Her legs were strongly wrapped around his hips, she was carefully grounding down on him, making sure every of her moves were slow to make the pleasure last. She turned loose the grip of her arms around his neck and leaned backward so he’d hit her from another angle, this one allowing him to reach the bottom.

Her screams filled his ears and soon enough his mouth as she straightened back up, seeking his eyes, wanting to connect even more. The darkness he ignited in her eyes that night never left, always leading him to always want her, even in the most inappropriate places.

“I was thinking about that time at the local church.” He admitted.

“Every-fucking-body heard the screams--” She proudly stated.

“The priest was more than disturb” He added. “But they never found out who that was.”

“Well, we know.” She handed him her cigarette. He gladly took it and smoked as much as he could, clouding his lungs as well as his mind.

She giggled some more, shaking her head both sides, she couldn’t believe they did such a thing, but knowing as mad they were when together, it was all figured out.

“It came back, Tommy.”

“What did?” He gained his serious tone back, eyes locking with hers.

“The disease, they say it’s even more violent this time, but I know it just never left. It has been lurking in the dark to come back when I’ll be happy again. But seeing I figured out its plan, it decided it was time to finish me off.” She sang. Her voice was devoid of any sadness, and he noticed it. “I think it’s a curse, Tommy. Run in our blood. Me grandma’ had that too, it passed a generation, leaving my mother and little sister alone. But I fear for the others.”

Old reflexes leading the way, Tommy’s hand fondled hers in the most natural way. He leaned forward to her as she took off his lips her cigarette, filling her lungs with that poison in hope it would kill the one that resided in her since way too long.

#peaky blinders #Thomas Shelby x Reader #Tommy Shelby x Reader

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biggest-stupidhead · 4 years ago

Text

Path Walker (Levi x OC)

Summary: Levi bites off more than he can chew by taking in a young street rat.

AN: I’ve been toying around with the POV of this series so around the 8th part the POV changes to third person, I am really lazy rn but when I get the motivation to I will come back and edit these parts to match, sorry if that bothers you!

Word Count: 1.7K

I remembered feeling cold, laying in my usual alley I clutched onto the rag that I used as a blanket. I was only 9 years old, hungry and homeless, and now I was dying of disease. I was pitiful, balled up on the ground, laying in the mud. I vaguely recalled a boot tapping my hip, I flinched away, certain it was a Military Policeman.

"Oi, are you...alive?" the cold voice sent shivers through me, he sounded mean. I stayed still, my eyes wide with fear as I thought of the stories the other children had told me of men. The men in the underground took what they wanted. So I figured it was better if he thought me dead.

"I can see you breathing, what is your name?" he asked as he knelt down beside me. I allowed my head to turn and meet his eyes for the first time.

"Emory" I said, but it hurt to speak, my throat felt like it was made of razorblades and lined with gravel. The man raised an eyebrow at the sound of my frail voice.

"Where are your parents Emory? Is there somewhere I can take you to get taken care of?" the man pressed, I shook my head my eyes watering as I thought of how lonely I was. He sighed and stood back onto his feet, he rested his hands on his hips and looked back out onto the quiet street.

"I'll take you home with me, but once you're better you'll be back on your own." the man said, he stooped down and scooped me into his arms. I whimpered when he tossed the rag off of me with a look of disgust.

------------

When I woke up I was in a bed, my hair was tied back off of my face, and a warm wash cloth was being pressed to my rosy cheeks. I licked my lips as I tried to sit up, a young girl pushed me down back into the stiff mattress.

"Don't try to move, just let me take care of you." she said, sounding a bit more aggressive than caring. I said nothing as she passed me a mug full of an earthy smelling liquid.

"It's tea, it'll make your throat better." she said as she held the mug to my lips. I opened my mouth and accepted the drink, my eyes widening as the flavor hit my tongue. She was right, even as the liquid went down my throat I already felt better. I sighed as I rolled over, I couldn't remember the last time I had felt this warm and cozy. I felt clean, my skin smooth rather than grimy, I was wearing an old but clean night gown, I smoothed my hands over the soft fabric in awe. The girl giggled and gently pushed me back into the pillow.

"If a grouchy man comes in don't be afraid of him, he just has a weird face." the girl said before getting up and taking out the tray of tea.

"What's your name?" I croaked, she paused by the door, her green eyes gleamed in the orange candlelight.

"Isabel." she said sweetly before exiting. When she opened the door I could make out the sounds of dishes clattering and a water pump being used. Odd, I must be in a nicer part of town for the home to have a pump. Usually multiple families had to share a water pump. I strained to hear the conversation through the door, I could at least make out 3 separate voices, one I recognized as Isabel, and another as the man who had collected me. The third voice spoke little but when he did it sent chills down my spine. Finally the pump stopped, and I could hear what they were saying.

"We can't keep her Farlan, she's just another snot nosed brat, if we go around picking up every kid we see we might as well open an orphanage." the voice hissed, silence followed his words and I cowered back into the pillow, pulling the blanket up so I could hide my face.

"Not fair Levi, I'm sure she can be of some use to us! Plus she's rather cute." Isabel said, followed by the sound of footsteps on the old wooden floor.

"I don't care what the brat looks like, we can barely feed ourselves no need for another mouth to feed." the third voice, Levi snarled. The room fell silent and I felt ice run through my veins.

"At least go look at her before you tell us we can't keep her, say it to her face that you don't want her." Farlan, the man who I presumed had initially brought me here said, matching Levi's venomous tone.

"Fine." Levi scoffed, I heard the sound of approaching footsteps and burrowed deeper into the covers. My heart raced when the door slowly creaked open, light spilling into the dim room.

"Oi, come out of there." his voice was close, definitely standing off to my left. I flinched when I felt his hand close around the blanket and pull it off of me. I yelped and snatched the corner before he could pull it away from my grasp.

"F-fuck off!" I squeaked, something that I had picked up off the streets, not that I knew what the words meant but other than to leave me alone. His eyes widened a fraction when I spoke, one of his thin eyebrows arching as he took in my appearance. I barely registered the sounds of muffled laughter as Farlan and Isabel chuckled in the doorway.

"Where did you learn to talk like that?" Levi asked incredulously, I shuffled backwards on the bed to put some space between us.

"It's what people tell me when I get too close to them." I admitted, whenever I would approach adults and sometimes older children they would use those words. Levi scoffed and sat down in the chair Isabel had occupied earlier.

"You shouldn't talk like that." he said, a frown etched deeply into his delicate features. I furrowed my brows, I had never had anyone tell me what I should and shouldn't do, I had grown up an orphan, only vague memories of my parents.

"You're not my dad." I said a wave of emotion overcoming me.

"No I'm not, and that's why you can't stay here, you don't belong with us." he said coldly, he stood and brushed past the pair in the doorway, who stood in shock as you watched him disappear. Isabel rushed into the room and sat on the bed, a sympathetic look on her childish face.

"I- He- I'm sure he doesn't mean those things, he can be a bit... shy when meeting new people." she said as I looked up at her expectantly.

"He does have a weird face." was all I said as she struggled to excuse Levi's harsh words. Farlan snorted and sat down in the chair next to the bed, his blue eyes turning soft when he took in my thin wrists.

"I'm sure he'll come to tolerate you." Farlan said, placing a hand on my back, he grimaced when he felt the ridges of my spine through Isabel's nightgown.

"Man kid do you want something to eat?" he joked despite the sick feeling that blossomed in his gut. I nodded and leaned into his touch subconsciously, he smiled and stood to go get me something while Isabel crawled under the covers with me.

"How did you end up all alone?" she asked as I settled into her side, my head resting on her chest.

"I dunno." I said, too focused on her heartbeat to listen to her question.

"Are your parents not around?" she pressed, I shrugged.

"Can't remember." I sighed as I nuzzled into her. She inhaled sharply when I let out a little sigh.

"Emory, please tell me what you know so I can help you." she said gently, craning her neck to get a glimpse of me.

"I don't know who my parents are, or where I came from, just that I'm here." I shrugged, breathing in Isabel's lavender scent. She tensed at my words and gently placed a hand on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry... how long have you been alone?" she asked quietly.

"Since forever." I said. Before Isabel could say anything else, Farlan returned holding a small loaf of bread.

"Here, I don't want to give you anything heavy incase you barf, that would be a waste." he chuckled as he handed me the bread.

"Oi you better not be feeding that brat in my bed, she'll get crumbs everywhere." Levi raised his voice slightly to berate you from the other room. Farlan smiled and pushed the bread into my hands, Isabel sat up and pulled me along with her. I bit into the bread not surprised to find it a bit stale. Farlan sat down on the end of the bed and watched me wolf down the bread.

"Slow down little girl!" he laughed as he watched me finish off the bread and wipe my mouth.

"That was good, thank you." I said before nestling back into Isabel. Farlan smiled, already feeling attached to the spirited girl.

"How old are you Emory?" Farlan asked, leaning forwards on the bed to get a peek at my face.

"Uh... I think I'm 9?" I said my face screwing up in frustration as I thought about my age.

"You think?" Farlan asked, raising an eyebrow and letting a smirk crawl onto his lips.

"Yeah, I'm not so sure but my friends are 9 so that must mean I'm 9 too." I said, quickly tiring of all these questions. Farlan laughed again, Isabel swatted him in the shoulder, jostling me as she sat up.

"Quit laughing at her she can't help it!" Isabel scolded. Farlan stuttered out a feeble apology as he struggled to stop laughing. But by the time he managed to apologize I was already slipping into the best sleep I would ever have. Isabel shushed him as she pulled me closer and rolled us onto our sides.

"I'm sure he'll warm up to her, how can he not? She's damn funny." Farlan said as he watched Isabel hold me close. She nodded in agreement as she brushed her fingers through my golden locks. I sighed in my sleep, feeling safe for the first time in my short life.

I miss them.

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mercheswan · 4 years ago

Text

A STAR MATCH.

read on AO3

People say that fate is written in the stars. For centuries people have consulted with the star readers to know what their future hold. It has been a practice from ancient times to visit the star readers at least once in your life, when you turned sixteen. The reader will need your birth date and the precise hour in which you were born, then they will consult with the stars and depending on how talkative the stars felt you’ll get a message, whether on the form of a prophecy, warning or a code word.

Nowadays with the development of science, the majority of the population thought the star readers to be scammers or just creative astronomers. Still some people visit them, especially those helpless romantics who wanted to find clues about their star match. Your star match was, your soulmate, but it was hard to find.

Since Stiles was a little boy he had always awaited the moment to have his fate read on the stars. Stiles loved to believe in magic, and the existence of wizards who could read the future talking with the cosmos, was very alluring for a kid of Stiles’s imagination.

There was also the fact that their parents, allegedly, were star matches. Stiles’s dad received an advice for his star reader: “Follow your Beacon”, thankfully Noah Stilinski interpreted that the stars were not talking about food but about a Town, and that’s why he moved to Beacon Hills. Stiles’s mom got a short prophecy: “Bars separate, heart accelerate, your star at the end”. Claudia Stilinski said he had no doubt that Noah was his star match when he met him at the Sheriff’s Station, when Noah came to release her from the cell after she had been arrested in a protest march. His star was at the other side of the prison bars.

But Stiles is not sure about star reading anymore. Sure, the supernatural existed, he knew it first hand since his best friend was bitten by a werewolf last year. But ever since her mother died… he felt the stars were not very useful. They could have said something about her disease. But Stiles was turning sixteen in two days and he was positive that his father would like for him to go, cause even if their parents time was limited, they were incredibly happy and it was worth it.

Stiles will do anything for his father, so he arranged a visit to the star reader.

~~~~~~~~~~

Stiles expected the place to look more like a witchcraft and magic store, but it looked like a little planetarium.

“Mieczyslaw Stilinski?” A man surprised Stiles from behind.

“Stiles it’s fine, my name can be handful” Stiles said.

“But the stars know you by that name” The man declared. He looked like a normal office worker. Stiles thought they would look more like a Dumbledore type of man. “Come, you have your birth certificate?” The star reader questioned. Stiles handled it to him. “Let’s see what the stars want to say” Stiles smiled politely. “Did someone made you come?” The star reader asked.

“What?” Stiles responded.

“You don’t look very enthusiastic about knowing your fate. There are three types of people who still come to me. Believers, the ones who want to make fun of it, and the ones whose family has made them come” The man smiled knowingly at Stiles while doing gods know what with the different artefacts and instruments of the room.

“My father wanted me to come. He and my mother were star matches” Stiles claimed.

The man made a happy sound. “That explains it, it seems your life it’s going to be a risky one, the stars are protecting you, they are loud they want to tell you many things” The star reader alleged. “I suppose they are fond of you cause your a star match child” the man explained.

Stiles thought about it. He life was dangerous, but he wasn’t sure if he could talk about the supernatural with the star reader. Miraculously Stiles had faced many supernatural creatures before and was still alive, but it was absurd to think it was cause of the stars, right?

“There’s one thing they want me to say to you. A word” The star reader declared. Stiles became serious and met the man’s eyes. “Chimera” The word resounded in the room.

After a few seconds Stiles asked “That’s all? But you said the stars liked me and had many things to say!” Stiles protested.

“But the important thing is Chimera” The star reader claimed.

“But I’m what sense!? Is it threat? Something they want me to be protected from?” Stiles questioned.

“That’s for you to figure out. You’ll now when the moment comes” The man concluded.

Stiles huffed. He knew that coming to te read wasn’t going to be useful at all.

~~~~~~~~~

“Did any of you go to your star reading ceremony?” Liam asked to the group.

They were all gathered in Scott’s house, planning how to deal with the new threat to the town of Beacon Hills. Crazy doctors who could create supernatural creatures artificially.

“What’s that?” Malia asked.

“Oh, it used to be very popular many years ago. Basically it’s believe that the stars know your fate and when you go they tell you something about your life and future” Mason explained to the werecoyote.

“So it’s like a wizard? Why are we not asking the questions to these people?” Malia asked.

“It’s not like a wizard, they only read the stars, if they know about the supernatural it’s unknown” Stiles added. “We should be focusing on finding information that can actually help us” Stiles said signalling to the books of the room.

“Are you planning on going to the read?” Theo asked. Stiles sent an annoyed to the boy. “We need a break, it’s an interesting topic of conversation” Theo argued. “I didn’t go to mine but I would probably go if I had the chance again” Theo claimed.

Theo Raeken.

They boy has come back to Beacon Hills after being away for years. Stiles didn’t trust him. He had known Theo when they were in fourth grade, he and Theo had been together on the little league team and they had been friends, Stiles was definitely sad about Theo leaving after his sister died frozen on under a bridge. But Stiles has the feeling that this Theo was different. Obviously people change, and after Theo’s tragic story you would expect someone to change, but there was something else… Stiles knew that Theo was not telling them the truth, that he was keeping something from them, and he was not going to stop until he discovered what it was.

“I don’t really believe in star readers, that have always be charlatans in my opinion” Lydia added to the topic of conversation.

“But how can you be sure? I mean, a year ago I would have thought just like you, but then I got turned into a werewolf” Liam argued. That made Lydia murmur in agreement.

“So you think that star readers are connected to the supernatural?” Theo asked.

“Who knows? I still don’t understand many things when it comes to this” Liam gestured to the room. Full of supernatural creatures.

“What are you guys talking about?” Scott questioned joining the group.

“Star readers” Mason responded.

“Are you telling them about your experience?” Scott said looking at Stiles.

“You went!?” Liam asked surprised.

“I should have known” Mason added.

“What’s that supposed to mean!?” Stiles asked offended.

“You went as research?” Mason explained.

“No” Stiles responded. After a few seconds of silence in which the whole pack was looking at him Stiles rolled his eyes. “I knew my father wanted me to go, I didn’t thought that it would hurt” Stiles added.

“Well?” Liam asked.

“Well what?” Liam exclaimed.

“What did it say!?” Liam pressed.

“Nothing useful. May as well not have gone” Stiles scoffed.

“You’re being especially cryptic on purpose” Mason complained.

Stiles rolled his eyes again. “He gave me a word” Stiles said. The pack came closer dying to know, even Theo looked very interested. Stiles groaned. “Chimera. The star reader told me that the key word was Chimera.” Stiles confessed.

The pack members looked at each other confused, thinking about the meaning of the word.

“And in what sense?” Liam asked.

“I thought they usually told you about romantic stuff” Mason said.

“That’s the thing. I don’t know, that why it was pointless, you don’t get an interpretation of the read” Stiles explained.

“So you don’t believe that your fate it’s connected to a Chimera?” Theo asked. Stiles was surprised about Theo comment, they locked eyes, there was something in Theo’s glare that Stiles didn’t know how to interpret. It was warm and menacing at the same time.

“Well… I-I decided to keep an eye in case a mythological creature with a lion face and a serpent tail appears, it could be a warning about how I am going to be killed. That or I’m going to get a Chimera pet someday” Stiles responded not separating his eyes from Theo.

The boy smirked softly. “Yeah, better be cautious”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Stiles really regretted going to the star reader. His life would have been simpler not knowing what fate wanted for him.

The Dread Doctors. They were unstoppable, crazy scientists that created artificial supernatural creatures, joining different species. Creating Chimeras.

“I’m the first Chimera”

The sentence made Stiles heart jump a beat. Stiles should have been afraid, after all they boy could be the man the stars were warning him about, the one who was going to be his killer. But now it all made sense, why Stiles had known that he was keeping things from him, why every time they were alone he felt electricity in the air, why they kept dancing around the other like it was meant to be. The boy was not his murderer.

Theo was his star match.

#steoday2.0 #steoday #steo #stiles stilinski #theo raeken #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf au #stiles x theo #steo au #steo fic

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butteraway · 4 years ago

Text

when time runs out | v

⋆ summary: A young girl has fallen deeply ill with an unknown disease in her, so with all her free time spent in an empty hospital room, she spends it online playing video games. That's until she meets her cousins friends, one spiking her interest with his extremely vulgare language.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

word count: 6.3k

warnings: none

authors note: HERE IT IS!! A whopping 6k chapter can you believe this lol :’) I plan on making the chapters this long, so that means it’ll take a little longer for me to write,,, But enjoy this guys!

Y/N was laying on her bed, twirling the bottle of pills that captivated her interest. Sitting up, she slowly opened the cap and took a pill out. She examined it, liking how the yellow and green color meshed together. The pills didn't look like anything special, just your basic average pill.

Her conversation with doc was a bit unnerving though to say the least. The doctor was acting a bit off if you asked her. ______________________

Y/N looked at Receen with uncertainty painting her face. What was the meaning of this? Was it really possible for her if she took these pills? He wouldn't try to kill her? They've known each other for almost two years, so he wouldn't try anything.

Right?

"C'mon Y/N, you trust me right? You can see your family again, just take them!" Doctor Receen urged the girl with an enthusiastic smile. Though the look in his eyes seemed a bit desperate for her to take them. Weird.

"Say, Doc, I don't wanna sound ungrateful or anything, but-" she was cut off by a soft laugh. It sounded more forced.

"Y/N, there's nothing to worry about! You had professionals work and conduct these small things! Here! Just take them and think about it!" Receen tossed the bottle to Y/N, who barely caught it with both hands. "I'll have someone bring in some fresh clothes just in case you do want to try these things out.”

And just like that he was out the door. ______________________

Y/N scratched the back of her neck as she put the pill back in the bottle, wondering why the doctor was pushy with her taking them. Her eyes wandered around the room until they landed on the new pile of clothes sitting on the edge of her bed. A kind lady bought it a short while ago, giving her a small smile before leaving.

Though, Y/N decided she'd play a game before calling her parents to tell them the wonderful news. It still felt odd for her to just get pills for her sickness right then and there. Even if it wasn’t a permanent solution. She wasn't even informed about the making of her medicine, despite what Receen had told her. All that she knew was that they were trying to keep her alive. Turning on her console and taking her controller, she glanced at the bottle. She didn't close it of course, wanting to see that they were actually real.

Putting on her headphones, she put on Fortnite and waited for other players to join. She really hated this game, but it was hilarious to see people rage. Seeing someone join, she tried to talk to them, but got no response. Briefly closing her eyes for a few seconds, she snapped them open after hearing a familiar gruff voice. King Explosion Murder!

"We better win this or I'll look for all of you and kill you." That was literally the first thing the dude said as the game began. Y/N let out an awkward chuckle, a sweat drop appearing on her forehead. This'll be interesting. She cleared her throat, slightly catching the attention of ‘Explosion Murder'.

"Hey! Do you remember me? We played together a few nights ago, with this other guy called Tape Dispenser on OverWatch!" Y/N decided to take a friendly approach, trying not to blow a fuse with this guy. I do not wanna be on this guy's bad side again. Silence filled the air, making Y/N feel slightly uncomfortable.

"Who the fuck are you?" Said girl nearly choked on her spit as she doubled over. She began shooting at random people as the game began, taking them down and moving with her small team. She once again felt her eyebrow twitch.

"What do you mean 'who are you?' Y/N asked, lowering her voice to mimic Murder's voice. She made her character shoot a person in front of her. Headshot!

"I have no idea who the hell you are, so shut the hell up!" Murder's voice rang through her ear as she winced at the volume. So loud! Her other teammate was shot down and killed, making Y/N sigh.

"You sure dude? I'm the one who almost won the game, but like, died at the very end?" Y/N didn't even know why she was even trying to talk to this guy. She just felt like she wanted to know him better. Or her. Could be a girl with a really deep voice? Murder was quiet before a growl like grunt was heard.

"So you're the damn girl who did that." Murder's voice was low and Y/N didn't know whether or not to feel scared for herself. "Haha! Yeah, that was me." She awkwardly laughed, not sure if he was going to blow a fuse because of that.

Murder was quiet, with the exception of his breathing being heard through her headphones. Y/N just came to the conclusion that Murder was, in fact, a dude. She didn't want to believe that a girl had that deep of a voice. It was possible, she thought, though she couldn't picture a female with that voice. She'd die if she did. The thought made her stifle a laugh.

"The fuck you laughing about?!" Y/N looked at his kill counts and her eyes widened. 7 already?! Goddamn! She looked at her own and only saw three. "Well aren't you curious now?" Murder let out a huff, as if he were trying to contain his inner rage. "I was asking for a goddamn reason."

Y/N swore she could feel his irritation through the screen. The two met up and began to continue to go to the middle of the map. 6 kills. Cool! She once again looked at Murder's kills and felt her confidence deflate once again. Way to make me depressed dude. As she was shooting a player, Y/N looked at the kill feed and almost spit everywhere.

"MOTHER FUCKING FUCKER!" This dude exploded, and by the noise, she assumed he threw his chair. This dude! Suddenly, an idea came in her, oh so beautiful, head. "Yo yo yo, bro! I gotta deal!" This caught Murder's attention as he let out an aggressive 'What.’ She smiled wide as she continued to play the game, knocking down and killing another player.

"I carry the team and win, you accept my friend request!"

"What if you don't win, huh?" That's what Y/N was scared of. She let out a defeated sigh and surrendered. "I'll give you the most rare skin I own." There was silence as she took some damage from another player.

"Which is what?" She swallowed and opened her mouth. "It's the skin that was only given to 5 players from the event last year."

"Deal." He said it so fast that Y/N was actually scared to give him it. But she always kept her word. Looking to see how much other players were left, she felt her heart speed up. Why am I freaking doing this?! The girl continued to focus on the game at hand and began skillfully killing the other players. She got hit a few times, but never went down. When it was finally one player left, besides herself, she began to be cautious. At last, she took down the final player and yelled out in joy!

"Oh yeah! Now that's what I'm talking about baby! Sweet sweet victory!" Y/N cheered while throwing her hands up in the air and slightly jumping on her bed. She had no idea why she was even this excited to win. Maybe it's cuz I like him. Y/N stopped mid cheer, before she burst out with laughter as she wondered why she even thought that. She doesn't even know the guy!

"Well, looks like you're gonna have to accept me!" Murder let out a couple of grumbles and snide comments as he accepted her request that she sent. "It was only fucking luck. Don't get too cocky."

Y/N gave a toothy smile that he couldn't see and giggled. "Whatever helps you sleep at night." The small girl looked at the time and decided this was enough for the day. "Well Mr. Explody, I gotta go! It was cool playing with you!"

"Yeah yeah, whatever. Get off now, you're starting to piss me off." Y/N laughed at his sour attitude and decided to fuel the flame some more.

"Y'know, you should work on your gaming. You suck." The girl quickly got off the game and turned off her console, but not without hearing him yell at her. The smile never left her face as she fell on her back and looked at the ceiling. Gosh, he's so weird. She continued to replay their interactions before turning her head and looking at the phone. She sighed and sat up.

All her happy feelings went down the drain. Something just didn't feel right with the medicine the doctor gave her. Whatever. It's probably because I always thought I'd be cooped up in this room for the rest of my life. Y/N blinked and walked to the phone and dialed her parents number. She stood anxious, hearing the phone ring and her hands trembling with excitement? Fear? Who knows.

"Hello? Y/N? How are you!" Her mom's cheery voice sounded through the phone and once again, the girl smiled. "Hi Mommy! I'm fine, perfectly fine actually. What about you?" She decided to keep things smooth and simple. The laughter of her mother brought Y/N back to reality.

"Oh Y/N! No need to be so formal! I'm your mother, no need to act like that!" Y/N let out a chuckle and brushed her hair away from her face. "Yeah, sorry Mommy."

"And to answer your question, I am doing amazing!" She let out a hum, letting her mother know she heard. "Well, I have some kind of big and important news. So basically, Doctor Receen made some kind of medicine. For my, y'know, 'sickness.' Crazy right?"

There was a small pause before the cheerful voice of her mother sounded in her ear. "I know! The Doctor had already told your father and I beforehand! I was so ecstatic, and I still am for you-"

"Wait, you already knew? And you didn't tell me?" Y/N’s voice was filled with confusion. Why didn’t mom tell me? Was she keeping it a secret? Did she try hiding it from me? Was she ever going to-

“Well I wanted it to be a surprise for you from the doctor!” Said the older woman happily, leaving Y/N to feel embarrassed. She let out a small ‘Oh’, and rubbed her neck. Why did she even think her mother wouldn’t tell her something so important? Shaking her head, Y/N continued.

“Well thank you! I’m still, uh, just still a little skeptical of the pills. I’m not sure if they are actually going to work…” The clear doubt was heard in the girl’s voice. Her mother furrowed her eyebrows.

“But sweetie! Of course they’re going to work! I would’ve thought you’d be more excited about this!” Glancing up to look at the bottle, Y/N could only let out a short ‘yeah.’

“So when will you be coming! Your dad and I agreed that we would pick you up after you took one of the pills, so you could come home for a while!” Her mother’s voice continued to rant off about what they were going to do when she came back home. While the voice continued, Y/N drifted off into her head.

How am I going to tell Denki this? Should I like, surprise him when he comes back from school? Hmm, I swear if he cries, I think I will too-

“Y/N! Y/N honey are you there?” Zooming back into reality, she let out a chuckle from her mother’s worried voice.

“Yeah mom, sorry. I was just thinking about some things.” M/N hummed in understanding. It grew quiet quick, but soon was filled with Y/N’s sweet voice. “I think I’ll take the pill on Friday mommy. You can come pick me up at around three. This gives you some time to prepare for everything, heh.”

Her mother let out loud cheers, happy that she will be able to see her daughter face to face again. It’s been so long since she had last seen Y/N, not being able to take it, seeing her child confined in a spacious room.

The two talked for a short moment more until they decided to hang up. Placing down the phone, Y/N sighed. Dragging herself and the IV back to her bed, she sat in silence. Who knows how long she stayed in that position, all that she knows is that she was snapped out of her daze after a brief knock to her door. She hummed, loud enough for the person to hear. Opening the door, the woman walked in, boots squeaking against the clean floor. The short spray in the air filled the silence as the doctor walked over to Y/N’s IV bag.

Watching her check and adjust the fluid bag, Y/N’s big eyes snapped to the doctor’s face when she began speaking. “You’ve been moving a lot. The needle is off center from where it’s supposed to be.”

As she said that, the girl felt a slight pinch on her arm and saw the doctor putting the needle back into its rightful place. Satisfied with the placement of the needle, she hummed in acceptance and patted Y/N’s arm with her gloved hand. Moving her arm around to get used to the feeling of it back inside her body, Y/N wondered when it had fallen out. Huh, I didn’t even notice.

Feeling the need to fill the silence, Y/N spoke. “Well, today was an exciting day, haha. Received amazing news and had a wonderful conversation with my mom.” Y/N chuckled in false amusement, but the doctor could only narrow her eyes at the small girl. “Mm, you sound so excited, I could tell when I first walked in here.”

Now Y/N did laugh at that. Who knew the scary doctor lady could go along with her sarcasm! With now gleaming eyes, the excitement was now visible in her eyes. Now that she knew the doctor was ‘nice’, she definitely was going to have fun talking with this doctor. Seeing as she turned around and went to head towards the door, Y/N was quick to stop her.

“Hey! What’s your name?” The doctor’s eyes widened in shock and turned fully to the girl who had now stood up.

“What do you mean ‘what’s your name?’ I’ve been one of your main doctors for two years!” The woman exclaimed in exasperation, unbelieving of the situation she was just put in. Y/N could only weakly shrug.

“Sorry about that! I just, uh, like was too nervous around you to remember your name?” As pathetic as the excuse was, she was telling the truth! I am so sorry Ms. Doctor! The older woman could only shake her head in amusement.

“My name is Doctor Shuzenji Kumiko, but call me Doctor Kumiko. Now you better remember that, this will be the last time I tell you my name.” Y/N nodded her head with such affirmation, Doctor Kumiko thought the child would accidentally hurt herself. And right now she did not need that happening. While she shook her head though, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a strike of familiarity at her name. But what about it is familiar? Cranking every gear in her head, she failed to notice Doctor Kumiko looking around the room.

Doctor Kumiko was never able to get a proper look around the sick girl’s room, seeing as her mission was to go in, check if Y/N was ok, and then get out. Though she immediately noticed how empty her room was. Only one big bed, a flat screen tv perched on a small table, and the medical equipment were all that occupied the room. Though now that she started paying more attention, the room was a different color. Bland white walls were now full of a bright color, something not too dark, but not too eye bleeding. It was a nice appealing color that suited the girl standing in front of her. That’s when Doctor Kumiko’s eyes landed on the small table next to the grand bed. They slightly widened as they caught eyesight on the small bottle.

“I can’t believe he gave them to her.” Kumiko hissed silently just as Y/N snapped her fingers. Staring at the doctor, she tilted her head.

“Did you say something?”

“Huh? Oh no, it’s nothing! Just remembering something is all!” Doctor Kumiko rubbed her neck, putting the momentary problem in the back of her head for now. Y/N shrugged her shoulders, curiously looking at the doctor in front of her. Clearing her throat, the doctor shifted the focus off herself.

“So were you going to say something?” Slowly fiddling with her gloved hands, the Doctor could only sigh in relief as Y/N eyes popped open quickly.

“AH YES!” Y/N quickly wobbled to the doctor forgetting to take the IV that weighed her down with her. The doctor let out a small gasp, stepping behind the girl and rolling it next to Y/N who didn’t pay any attention to that.

“I finally recognize where I heard that last name from! And no, I didn’t just remember your name you supposedly told me before.” The lady’s sharp eyes rolled, letting her continue.

“RECOVERY GIRL HAS THE SAME SURNAME! ISN’T THAT INSANE?! I HONESTLY FIND THAT SO COOL! I wish I had the same name as a famous person, oooo like All Might’s name, or or even Endeavor’s!” Doctor Kumiko cringed at the sound of Endeavor’s name but paid no mind to that. Right now she had to deal with a hero fangirl. Just then Y/N abruptly stopped her rapid talking, moving closer to Doctor Kumiko’s face.

“Wait. Are you like-” Y/N looked around the room as if there was someone else watching them. When she was done, she leaned closer to the doctor’s protected head and whispered the following words. “Are you Recovery Girl’s daughter?” The woman could only sigh and stared into the girl’s shining eyes. When Y/N got no response she determined her answer by herself.

“Oh my gOSH!!! WAIT LIKE FOR REAL?! LIKE YOU’RE ACTUALLY HER DAUGHTER?? YOU LOOK A LITTLE YOUNG TO BE HER DAUGHTER BUT I’M NOT COMPLAINING! WOW THIS IS SO CRAZY, ALL THIS TIME YOU WALKED IN HERE AND I HAD NO IDEA WHO YOU ACTUALLY WERE!! I HAVE TO TELL DENKI HE’S GONNA FREAK OUT-” Doctor Kumiko bellowed a laugh so grand it had Y/N laughing along as well. After attempting to wipe away her tears soon realizing she couldn’t due to her helmet, she let out more bubbly laughs.

“Aahhh, you’re pure gold!! I can see why Receen likes you!” She smiled brightly down towards Y/N who gave her a beaming grin of her own in return. “But yes! You’re right, though not entirely.”

Y/N trying to keep up with Doctor Kumiko’s pace to her bed, they both sat down and got comfortable. “Since you basically found out my family tree, to answer your question fully, I am related to Recovery Girl. I’m not her daughter, but her granddaughter instead.”

The small girl’s eyes widened in shock. No way. She actually met someone who’s related to one of the greatest heroes of all time. Don’t fight her on this, she knows what she’s talking about. As she stared at the doctor with such admiration, Kumiko could only give her a weak smile. She knew what the next question would be. Her answer would always leave people with disappointment.

“Wait! Does that mean that you have a similar quirk to Recovery Girl? After two generations, wouldn’t your quirk be more evolved at this point? Or do you have a mixture of both your parents quirk, seeing as your mom could’ve inherited some of Recovery Girl’s quirk or something like that!” Doctor Kumiko only shook her head leaving Y/N confused.

“Then did you get a quirk similar to your dads?” Once again shaking her head no, Y/N was beyond confused. Until a thought passed through her head.

“Are you… are you quirkless?” Y/N didn’t really consider a descendant from a nationwide known hero to be quirkless. It’s possible, but very unlikely. After all, only 20 percent of people in the world aren’t born with quirks. Me included. Y/N’s eyebrow twitched at the truth of her thought train. Once again though, the doctor shook her head and went to explain to the young girl.

“I do have a quirk, so that’s not the problem. The problem lies in how efficient my quirk is.” Y/N listened intently, ready to store this useful information in her memory. Ohoho Denki is gonna be sooo jealous, heheh. “My quirk is actually quite weak compared to my grandmother.”

“My mother was born quirkless, meaning that when she had me, many doctors had thought I would be too. But instead, I got a similar quirk to my grandmother. Since my mother had direct DNA from her, part of that DNA was transferred to me, to her granddaughter. Everyone was ecstatic to learn I had gotten a quirk similar to my grandmother, some even thought my quirk would be even greater than hers.

“But alas, I was handed the remains of the quirk from my mother, so I only proved to have a much much weaker quirk compared to Recovery Girl.” Soaking up the information, Y/N looked to Doctor Kumiko. Despite sharing not so amazing information, she didn’t seem to be too bothered by sharing it. In fact, she looked perfectly fine!

“I’ve come to terms that my quirk will always be a weak one, but that doesn’t stop me from using it all. I help as best as I could, using my quirk to help young children when they scrape their knees, and just replenishing as much energy into those who need it the most. I think the biggest wound I’ve healed was a large burn! I was so proud of myself, but I was just so exhausted! So I mostly conserve energy when I need to.”

Y/N nodded, happy that the doctor was sharing so much with her. She didn’t care if it was ‘improper’ or something, she was just glad to be able to talk to someone who wasn’t Receen or Denki.

“You seem quite happy with what you do. How much people have you helped?” Y/N smiled happily at the doctor. “ I’ve helped so many people. And just with my quirk!” Sighing happily, Doctor Kumiko got up and headed towards the door.

“Do you visit Recovery Girl often?” Y/N had a small favor she would like to ask the doctor, though she needed to make sure she was able to do it first.

“Of course, she is my grandmother after all. She would spam call me if I hadn’t visited her in over a week.” Doctor Kumiko deadpanned at the thought of that, having experienced that before. Y/N giggled at the thought, phone constantly ringing for who knows how long!

“Makes me deliver her food too if she forgot it. That lady is too much work sometimes.” The doctor rubbed her head, a headache already rolling in at the thought of all the things her grandmother makes her do.

‘Well since you see and visit her~” Y/N smiled sweetly at the woman looking at her with suspicious eyes. “Then that means you have access to the U.A. building!” Now Kumiko was narrowing her eyes at the girl at this point.

“Yes, I’m also a helper at the school too. What cards are you playing right now Ms. L/N?” Said girl chuckled mischievously, quickly moving to grab a small note pad in the drawer of her small table. Ripping out a piece of paper and quickly scribbling words on it and folding it, she handed the paper to the doctor who stared at it in confusion.

“GREAT! I need you to deliver this to my cousin that goes to the school! Since you have access to the school, which I don’t know why you didn’t tell me sooner, this makes your little journey for me easier!” Sharp eyes flew from the paper in her hand to the young girl’s face, back to the paper. Sighing, she silently agreed.

“Thank you!!! Ok, so his name is Kaminari Denki and he’s a first year in the hero course! I don’t know which one, but he’s in one of them if he didn’t lie to me.” Chuckling, the doctor nodded and stood up from the bed.

“Well I spent too much time in here. I think it’s been the most since the two years I’ve been checking up on you.” Walking to the door, she paused for a moment, turning around to look at the girl who had sat back down on her bed.

“I’ll be sure to get these to your cousin as soon as possible. Also, I’m sure you’ll be able to help so many people when you’re out of here. But please be careful with those pills. They’re very strong so consume them with caution." And with that, she left, door opening, closing, and the familiar sound of the air purifier turning on.

Chatter filled the classroom in the early morning, the students excited for another day in U.A. Ever since the recent villain attack, many of them were still filled with fear, though their determination to grow stronger overshadowed any negative thoughts. The days passed by since then and many of the young heroes have made it their goal to be stronger than they were before.

Which leads us to a blonde boy with a black lightning streak in his hair, sitting nonchalantly in his chair. He listened to his rambling friend, the red head mentioning something about Crimson Riot, or something like that.

“And ever since then, I always followed his words! He’s my number one inspiration after all-” A grunt was heard next to him, the boys’ eyes turning to the ash blond boy sitting next to them.

“Yeah yeah, we heard this story already, why don’t you talk about something new?” His gruff voice didn’t knock down the red head’s bright mood though, only pushing him to talk more.

“Alright Bakubro, if that’s what you want!” The boy grinned, his sharp teeth on display for everyone to see. And even despite that, no one was very afraid of his appearance, seeing as his personality shone out like the sun outside. “So what did you guys do this weekend? I’ve been training for hours! Ever since U.S.J, I’ll admit, I was still shaken up!”

At the mention of what happened at U.S.J, more people around them joined in on their conversation. “Tell me about it, my parents didn’t want me coming back because of that.”

A few murmured in agreement, everyone now talking about their experiences at home. “You don’t know how long it took me to convince my mom to not call the school. But if anything, I’m still surprised Midoriya is still here. He was at the core of all the attacks!”

Said boy turns red at the mention of that. I mean, his mom was really really worried about him, so he couldn’t really say anything. Scratching the back of his neck, he could only let out a nervous chuckle.

“Yeah, luckily All Might managed to come and save the day!” Excited chatter began to fill the room once again with everyone retelling each other how cool All Might was busting through the doors of U.S.J.. Ururaka jumped in as well, her voice filled with awe.

“Don’t forget how All Might even knew we were in trouble! If it weren’t for Iida speeding his way back to UA, who knows what could’ve happened!” Even more people agreed on that, some of the guys even patting the tall boy on the back. Clearing his throat, and trying to make the blush disappear off his face, Iida fixed his glasses and began talking.

“Well of course I did that, any sane person would have done it. After all it was the right thing to do, especially in our dire situation!”

“Ah there goes Iida humbling himself again!”

“Give yourself some credit dude!”

“It was still super cool how you managed to run that entire distance!”

Covering the raising blush on his face at the rapid compliments with his fist, he spoke once again, the others around him listening to his words. “It would have been more preferable if we were able to contact the school directly, help would’ve come much more quickly then.”

“Oh yeah! Too bad Kaminari couldn’t contact the school though, those villains really knew what they were doing!”

At the mention of his name, Kaminari faced Mina and gave a tight grin. “I didn’t even know that there were people who had quirks that can block out signals!” Some laughed, while others chuckled at the exasperation in the blonde boy's voice. An annoyed sigh cut through their laughter, everyone looking to the blonde spiky haired boy who interrupted their laughing fest. Just as he was about to speak, a knock was heard throughout the class, leaving the boy to grumble to himself as the door slid open.

A tall lady walked in, her straight posture already showing the students she meant business the moment they laid eyes on her. Her long, sleek black hair flowed behind her as she stepped more into the classroom, sharp eyes observing the kids in front of her. Immediately her eyes landed on a boy with narrowed red eyes, noticing he was giving her the stink eye.

Inwardly rolling her eyes at the boy's attitude, she went back to looking at the small crowd in front of her. “Hello, my name is Dr. Kumiko and-”

She was so rudely cut off by a very short boy who stood in front of her, the purple balls on her head making Kumiko furrow her eyebrows. “Are you our substitute? Wow you are gorgeous, has anyone told you that?”

As the boy continued talking, Dr Kumiko could only try and step around him in order to avoid his beady gaze. Cringing slightly, she turned her attention back to the class and watched as they curiously gazed at her. Clearing her throat sharply and loudly, that effectively shut the small boy up.

“First of all, no I am not your substitute, though I am aware you aren’t even getting one. Second of all, before you interrupted me, I was going to say I have a delivery for someone. The other hero class said I would most likely find him in here, since he was not one of their classmates.”

With that being said, murmurs erupted between students, all of them wondering what this delivery could be, that such a beautiful woman was sent to give it to one of the boys.

Looking down at the piece of paper that was folded into an envelope, Doctor Kumiko’s eyes furrowed a little more as she tried remembering the name Y/N gave her. Uh, something like Kamayama? Kamayari? Kama- oh whatever! Straightening up, she decided that she wouldn’t attempt to damage her pride and decided to read what was written on the paper instead.

“Is there anyone who recognizes the phrase ‘electrifying baby, electrifying’? A choked cough sounded throughout the now quiet room, everyone’s eyes trailing to the blonde with a black streak in his hair. Doctor Kumiko wondered if he had dyed his hair like that.

“Uhm I recognize it?” Kaminari was too nervous to even consider how this random lady even knew him and his cousins inside joke. It became a joke when Kaminari had accidentally used his quirk when he got angry at a game both of them were playing. He went into his dumb mode and that was the first thing he said just to show Y/N he was alive. He’s still embarrassed to this day because of his slip up.

“Here you go, I was told to hand this letter to you. I’m sure you know who it is though.” Giving the teenage boy a smirk, the doctor walked closer to him, placing the piece of paper in his palms.

“Alright, since that’s all I needed to do, I’ll head off now. Don’t you give any trouble to your teacher when he arrives.” With a stern voice, Kumiko exited the classroom, sliding the door shut and leaving the students in a stunned silence.

Looking down at the smooth, neatly folded paper in his hands, Kaminari goes to open it with furrowed eyebrows, only to have it snatched from his secured hands.

“Whose this from?! A secret girlfriend we didn’t know about?!!” Inspecting the letter, Mineta’s fingers itched to open the letter himself. No way could Kaminari have a girlfriend! There were better options out there, like him for example! Cue eye roll.

“What?! No of course not dude! Just gimme the letter-” Reaching down to take back the paper, a pink hand stopped him from getting it.

“Kaminari! There’s no need to be shy about it! You know we wouldn’t judge you, no matter how you managed to get a girl to agree to go out with you!” Mina turned around to Hagakure and Tsuyu, the pink girl’s eyes shimmering with delight!

“Wow, do you think this could be one of those romantic letters couples send to each other!” Giggling, Mina and Hagakure began to try and unravel the paper, only to be stopped by another hand delicately taking the paper away.

“Yah! I was going to open that!” Turning around, the pink haired girl faced Aoyama, who looked at the letter with slight curious eyes.

“Did you know Paris is actually known as the city of love? I like to say I’m an expert in that station!” A deafening silence rolled throughout the class, Mina and Mineta deadpanning at what the purple eyed boy said. Quickly jumping towards him, both the students wrestled Aoyama for the letter, making a ruckus around them.

“Hey why are you- Just give me the piece of paper, it’s mine!” Soon joining their hustling, Kaminari rushed to try and retrieve the letter from who he knew was his cousin. Why do they go touching things that aren’t theirs!, Kaminari thought.

Soon, the now wrinkled paper flew away from their little cluster, floating all the way to another students desk. That student's desk being Bakugou’s. Staring hard at the paper that laid on his desk, he drew his hand near it to pick it up. Kaminari began to grow even more worried.

“H-hey Bakugou, uh could you give me my letter?” Kaminari suppressed the urge to shiver as he made eye contact with Bakugou’s piercing red eyes. His gaze then shifted to the small wisps of smoke that began appearing in the hand Bakugou clutched the letter in.

“You idiots are really screaming at each other. Because of a paper?” Adding more to his irritation and annoyance, more smoke began appearing around his hand. Now he was angry at their stupidity.

“C’mon Bakubro, don’t be like that! Just give Kaminari his letter.” Kirishima tried coaxing the angry blonde, but that only seemed to irritate him even more. Planning on just setting the damn paper on fire so his classmates would shut up about the stupid love letter, he clutched it even harder in his hand. Only to have it ripped away from him by something sticky. Glaring at the short black haired boy, Sero quickly yanked the fragile paper towards himself.

Right now, Kaminari was panicking outwardly, rushing towards Sero to cradle the now ruined letter. His annoyance shot up quickly, sending clear glares to the four who wouldn’t give him his letter. Mina, Mineta and Aoyama looked away with guilt painting their faces, while Bakugou growled at Sero. Growled.

“Ugh look at what you guys did I- '' Taking a deep breath in, he allowed himself to cool down. They were just too curious, he told himself. Walking back to his seat, with Sero following him, he sat down and put the delicate paper on his desk. The once smooth paper was now crumbled and burnt around the edges. Resisting the urge to rub his eyes, he turned to Sero once again.

“Thanks bro.”

“No problem.” Their exchange was short, yet Sero knew Kaminari’s words were genuine.

“Sorry about your letter Kaminari, I was just too excited thinking about you having a girlfriend.” Mina awkwardly chuckled, Mineta and Aoyama following in suit with quiet ‘yeah’s’. Giving them a small smile, he waved them off.

“I guess it’s fine. I got excited too. But I don’t have a girlfriend, this letter is from my cousin.” Nodding, she still let out a meek sorry, embarrassed that she got the whole story wrong. Mineta and his words, ugh.

Looking back to Bakugou, said boy could only let out a grunt and look away from Kaminari. Snorting, he turned his attention to the letter and began carefully unfolding the folds that had formed an envelope shape. Kaminari let a smile grace his face. She used to like making origamis. I could never have the patience to fold these kinds of stuff.

After finally opening every fold with utmost delicacy, he squinted his eyes to read what Y/N had written for him. It was hard reading due to some of the paper being burnt and blackened. He managed to read what she wrote though.

Surprise on Friday :)

Kaminari didn’t even have a second to even dwell on what that could mean, jumping slightly in his chair when he heard the door to the classroom slam open. Golden eyes widening, he quickly stuffed the paper into his bag and watched as Aizawa entered the classroom. Those who were standing quickly rushed to their seats to avoid getting called out by the fully casted and bandaged man.

Listening to his teacher’s muffled voice, he reminded himself to ask Y/N what she meant later when he got home. It was very vague, but Kaminari didn’t dwell on the fact too long. After all, he had a full and exhausting day of school ahead of him!

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #mha #bnha #mha angst #bnha fluff #bnha x reader #fanfic

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wardencommanderrodimiss · 3 years ago

Note

When you were liveblogging DGS2/GAA2 over on your sideblog (which I was sadly not following along with since I was gladly playing the game myself and didn't want spoilers) you made a post on this blog about imagining more shenanigans for the modern day/bullshit defense au. Since the game has now been out for a month I was wondering if you would be interested in sharing them? (Please tell me Someone regrets his new white suit when he gets a stain)

I figured there would be some people who dropped away for that liveblog because hey, they had the chance to easily play it themselves now, and I'm just happy that it is so easily available to play now. They're good games!

Anyway, blanket spoiler warning for both DGS/The Great Ace Attorney games below. So many spoilers.

So my initial scenario that I mentioned when playing the first game was Ryuu, Susato, and Kazuma shadowing van Zieks, and that's been made hilarious given the entire situation with van Zieks and his apprentice in the second game. I'm keeping that scenario and just expanding on it, because it works even better with the second game's context.

London Study Abroad, Day 1: a man burns to death in an uber that was simultaneously the crime scene and evidence and no we still don't know how they got it into the courthouse.

London Study Abroad, Day 2: Ryuu and Susato are studying over in the corner of Barok's office while Kazuma is on the phone and Barok is at his desk ignoring all three of the students, when suddenly Kazuma walks over to the desk and slaps one hand down on it, his other hand holding his phone back a little bit from his mouth.

"Hey, Prosecutor van Zieks," he says. "My dad says to stop being so rude to us."

"No, he doesn't," says Barok without looking up.

Kazuma hands him the phone. Ryuu and Susato are watching now, and are very surprised to see Barok actually take the phone and answer with a deadpan "Yes?"

"Barok," says Genshin Asogi, on the other end of the phone, on the other side of the world, "why does my son tell me that you are currently drinking wine, in the office?"

It is 11:17 am GMT and Barok is indeed drinking wine. "I don't know," he says. "Why did your son tell you that?"

This is the first time that Barok and Genshin have spoken in like three years.

Now this is less shenanigans and more me laying out some complex groundwork that I have overthought because what else do I do! I hope that's nonetheless acceptable.

Since this modern AU is adjacent to the Bullshit Defense AU, that means we are allowed to resurrect at least one dead parent. I have chosen Genshin Asogi for this honor and add him to the ranks of Gregory, Byrne, Misty, Metis, and Dhurke.

So for the incidents a decade prior, the same situation carries over from the game, initially. Genshin, Mikotoba, and Jigoku are all studying in London, and while Mikotoba is running around solving crimes, Genshin becomes very good friends with Klint van Zieks, and Barok. Klint still ends up a killer; Genshin still ends up discovering this, but instead of them handling this with a duel like idiots in 1899, Genshin ends up finding evidence and gets Klint arrested on suspicion of murder. Before his trial, though, Klint mysteriously dies in prison of "Mael Stronghart tying off a loose end who could reveal him to be a blackmailing piece of shit" disease.

Genshin and Barok's friendship is...understandably strained by this. Barok finding out his brother who he so loved and idolized was a murderer, but that matter wasn't even resolved in court with a verdict, it's just hanging open forever now, and this all about Klint having been brought to light by Klint's best friend, who Barok also admired... Barok does not take it very well. And while Genshin wants to look out for Klint's little brother, for Klint's sake, there's only so much he can do, and it's even harder once he returns to Japan. He still reaches out to Barok on occasion, and Barok would sometimes briefly respond, but that line of communication has slowly died over the years. Both of them think there was some sort of foul play involved in Klint's death, and both of them think that there are loose threads, but neither knows what to do with it.

Then one day, a memo goes around the Prosecutors Office asking for someone to mentor two Japanese exchange students by the names of Kazuma Asogi and Susato Mikotoba, and Barok reads the first of those names and remembers that his brother's good friend Genshin Asogi had a son named Kazuma and just thinks. huh. Knowing that he is going to immediately regret it, Barok volunteers to mentor the exchange students, wondering maybe if there's some way he can uncover more information about Klint's crimes and death.

Kazuma, for his part, knows that his father has an old friend who is a prosecutor in London, who went through some rough stuff, but maybe you can see how he's doing now, and Kazuma meets Barok and is like "wow my father didn't tell me that you were a complete jackass."

Susato and Ryuu, meanwhile, didn't even know about Genshin and Barok's old friendship, and so the phone situation just leaves them beyond confused as they watch the frightening and cold Prosecutor van Zieks grow progressively more animated in a phone conversation with Kazuma's father. This is still their second full day in London. Everything happens so much.

Anyway, eventually, with help from Sholmes and after a bunch of increasingly wild scenarios, they end up discovering the full truth of what happened with Klint, and revealing Stronghart's role in his crimes, which allows Barok and Genshin to return to good terms with each other.

Also yeah Kazuma manages to wear white for 2 hours before he gets wine spilled on him. What did he expect when this office is more a wine cellar than an office!

#ace attorney bullshit tag #bullshit defense au

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doubleshotofsomething · 4 years ago

Text

To Hell & Back

Part Four: “My wings are frayed and what’s left of my halo’s black”

Summary: Your exit strategy involves your neighbour... Well, it is your neighbour.

Prompt: "I don't want to live on this planet anymore."

Warnings: swearing. (Typos that will be fixed). That's it??

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

-----

Series Masterlist

-----

You weren't always this...angry.

You weren't always this spiteful and short tempered, and malicious enough to deliberately poison muffins.

At one point in life, you were everything you'd ever wanted in a friend. Kind and compassionate. Even patience was a virtue you had an abundance of.

Then, one day, some guy from Asgard came with an army of aliens and ripped a hole through your father's finances. Apparently damaging a bunch of buildings, including the one your father worked at, was bad for business and so it closed down.

Just as your mother's job had barely managed to get your family out of the red, her boss gets murdered at some important meeting that blew up – along with some world leaders. In her boss's place, the son took over and ran the company into the ground.

Luckily, your sister had a bakery that made just enough to cover your parents' costs and your summer jobs had saved you enough to get you through college. Then, some other guy came with another alien army, and decided to take half the world with him – or whatever he did

The wrong half of the world, in your opinion. You could have lived without watching your sister's husband run her business into the ground. And life would have been a little easier if you didn't have to stretch yourself thin, to make sure your mother saw the next day.

"Then half the world came back," you continue, eyes focused on the cat. "And some random family showed up in my apartment. I'm pretty sure the husband had a heart attack when he saw me–"

Bucky places another beer in front of you. You hate the taste, but coffee on an empty stomach has never worked well for you.

"–so I moved," you take a final sip of your second beer, before placing it down and reaching for the one he just placed in front of you. "Now, I'm here. Stuck with a nosy neighbour and his cat."

"You can keep her." Bucky sighs, leaning against the wall next to you. Your shoulders brush. "I don't know the first thing about cats."

You frown and look up at him. "Barnes... You are cat. And I already have you, why would I want another one?"

He scoffs, blue eyes meeting yours. "I am not that kind of lady."

"Oh god," you roll your eyes.

"Gotta buy me dinner first, doll–"

"Not a doll."

"Maybe take me dancing," he continues, lips twitching at the sight of your scowl. "If you're lucky, I might invite you in for tea."

You glance at the coffee machine, still boxed, sitting on his counter but don't comment. You know what it means, you know why he bought it, and the thought alone makes you queasy.

So you look back at the cat, curled on your bare lap, and sigh. "Sorry I came in without pants."

You don't say anything else and he chuckles. He found you in nothing but an old shirt and socks that night, so he's not really surprised.

"Sorry I helped you without a shirt." He replies. He would've answered you immediately, the second you said his name, but he had to find pants first.

Silence falls between the both of you, and it takes actual effort for Bucky to look away from you. Tempering down the disappointment that has the audacity to knaw at you, at your stubbornness, you turn back to the screen of his laptop.

He was reviewing CCTV footage of your building's basement garage. Two hours into the viewing and he heard you calling him from the balcony, so he had to pause.

Now, four hours, three beers on your side and a weird trip down memory lane later – you're helping him sift through footage at a faster rate.

"So," you begin, eyes glued to the screen. "I have a question, about that whole serum thing."

"Hmm?" It's the first question you've ever asked about that part of him, that part of his history.

"How does it work when it comes to diseases?"

Blinking, Bucky has to pause the video to look at you. "Diseases?"

You nod. "Like flu, chicken pox, tonsillitis. You know, that stuff."

"I'm confused–"

"Do you not get it or does it run through you like water?"

"What?"

"Or does your immune system just basically butcher it within the hour?" You blink at him, eyes wide with curiosity. "'Cause like, I had this friend with one helluva immune system. He never got sick, so does it work like that?"

He pauses, lips pursing as he considers you. "Do you wanna know if my blood cells can cure AIDS?"

"If that were the case, you'd be in a CDC off-site lab right now–" you put down the beer you've been cradling. "–so, no. I wanna know what kind of illness can knock a super soldier out long enough for me to use it as an excuse."

He blinks. Once. Twice. "Huh?!"

"Saturday is in a few days."

Oh.

"What does that have to do with me?" His face scrunches up into the most confused expression you've ever seen.

"As we both know," you narrow your eyes at him. "Ever since you saved my life, like the asshole you are, my parents have taken a liking to you. And since I poisoned their favourite couple last week, I'm in deep shit this week unless I can find a good reason to not show up."

"I'm not gonna apologise for saving you."

You raise an eyebrow. "Of course not. That would mean admitting it was very selfish of you."

This is not how he expected this conversation to go. Or how he wanted it to go. So, he decides to turn back to the screen and continue watching the footage.

You know you struck a nerve, and it would be easier for you to blame it on the beer, but you can't. You want answers, just as much as he does.

You want to know what gave him the right to knock down your door, or the audacity to have his friend fly you to the hospital. He won't straight up tell you, you tried when you woke up in the ICU and found him there, and it pisses you off that he might not ever tell you.

Bucky frowns at the screen. "The camera's get switched off right after I leave–" he glances at you. "Did you bribe security to switch them off?"

"We have security?"

"The guys at the front desk?"

You frown at him. You know those guys, you bring them baked goodies from work three times a week.

"Hang on," you place the cat on the couch next to you, cross your legs and turn to move closer to him. "Let me get this straight."

Your knees gently press into his thigh and he forced to look at you.

"You're telling me that Laurence with sinuses, down in the lobby, and Percy with the three-legged rabbit. Those guys–" of course you'd know that. "–they're security? For this apartment building? We have security?"

"You can't be serious–"

"We have a biometric system at the door and like cameras, and a patrol car that frequents this neighbourhood–" you're pressing a little to hard on your fingers and he's worried you just might snap one off. "–what the hell do we need security guards for?"

You continue rattling off all the safety measures the building has, which means your fingers have to suffer throughout the list, unless he does something about it.

Which he does. Almost as if instinct, his hands are clasping yours before he can make the decision to reach for them. They're warm and cold against yours, but the right kind of warm and cold that makes you frown at them.

His hands swallow yours, which isn't something that surprises you. It's the way you're not pulling away, the way you're not fighting it, the way you can't blame the alcohol because it almost feels...normal.

You haven't felt normal in such a long time.

"You gonna stop tryna break your fingers?" Bucky starts. "Or do I have to stay like this 'til you knock out?"

You blink. "Does a concussion knock you out long enough to warrant an excuse?"

"You're relentless."

"Says the guy watching CCTV footage because of a cat."

"It's... For a good cause."

"Me missing Saturday dinner is a good cause, Barnes."

He sighs. "Doll–"

"–I'll owe you one."

Bucky is about to argue, his mouth was halfway open before your words registered. That's really what happened.

It's not like he was looking for an opening or anything. A way of asking you, that wouldn't resort in an argument or anything.

It's not like those were the words he's been waiting for, for quite some time now.

Not at all.

Of course not.

But, who is he to argue with the mysterious workings of a universe.

The room you're in is dimly lit, the only light originating from the kitchen and the streetlights. But you can still see that dangerous glint in his eyes.

He grins. "Is that right?"

You swear you heard yourself gulp.

-----

"Okay–" you're fidgety and anxious, and can't seem to stand still as the elevator doors close. "–now, let's go through this again. What's our exit strategy?"

Bucky turns to fully face you. He's been trying to keep you calm ever since the parking lot, but even he can admit that he was far too distracted to be helpful.

It wasn't even his fault he was distracted, it was completely yours. When he invited you to Sarah's party , the party celebrating the expansion of the success revamp of the boat business, he had said to dress comfortably.

Not dress like you were put on this Earth to be the end of him.

He was waiting in the parking lot, the same one that had the camera's switched off right after he left, when you came barrelling towards him.

You had narrowly escaped your sister. She was getting off the elevator just as you were nearing it, so you quickly opted for the staircase beside it. You were a flurry of floral black and white and pink in a summer dress, your hair barely in place – you tried using pins and thought about ribbons, but then forgot about them when you couldn't find your other shoe – as you basically pushed him inside the car.

You used the passenger window to try and fix your hair, as best as you could. And he spent the drive trying to reassure you that you looked fine.

You looked more than fine, but he couldn't seem to muster up the words.

"Doll–"

"Not a doll." Is your automated response.

"You look fine, " sweet as sugar, is what he wants to say. "And, well, there is no exit strategy."

You gape up at the mammoth of a man in front of you. His words, a ballad of heathens in your book, echoes in your head.

"No exit strategy?" You whine, fisting his shirt as you desperately meet his eyes. "Bucky, no. Please. You can't do this."

The elevator doors open before he can respond to you. Sam is waiting on the other side of the doors, champagne glasses in both hands.

Hands still gripping into Bucky's shirt, hair almost presentable, Bucky's face flushing from hearing you say his name, and your expression portraying pure fluster. You and Bucky both turn to find Sam staring at the scene in front of him.

His eyebrows shoot up, golden brown eyes lighting up at the sight. "Okay. This definitely makes up for you being late."

Bucky blinks, seeming to snap out of his stupor. "Wait, wha–"

"No–" Sam cuts in. "–I know how you 40s guys are about kissin' and telling. I won't pry."

"Hang on, Sam–"

"Bathroom's on the next floor," he has the audacity to grin. "Just be quick about it. The speech's in twenty minutes."

With that, he steps away from the elevator, gives a curt nod and – with a Cheshire grin – walks away.

You slowly peel your hands away from Bucky and take a few steps back.

Bucky clears his throat. "So, about the exit strategy..."

---

TAGS :D : @sunflowerxbarnes , @ginger-swag-rapunzel , @arctic-duchess , @sltwins , @thewayilookatbacon , @buckyisperfect , @paryl

#bex's 1.5k meme challenge #bucky barnes #reader insert #sam wilson #x reader #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky fluff #mcu x reader #bucky x you #marvel fic #neighbour!bucky #neighbours au #enemiestolovers au #bucky barnes x reader #marvel masterlist #to hell and back #part 4 #bucky x y/n

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yes-ihavealwaysbeengreen · 4 years ago

Text

Day 12: It Evaded Me - Poe Dameron

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Rating: 18 +

This was a challenging prompt to write for just because of the wording but I am really happy with the way this has turned out.

Once again, thank you for reblogging, commenting, and liking. It means a lot to me that people are reading and enjoying my writing. :)

November Writing Challenge Masterlist

Day 11: Walk the Dog- William ‘Ironhead’ Miller

You had been working on base for several weeks before you had first met him, the poster boy for the resistance, Poe Dameron. You were a transfer mechanic on a temporary assignment, assigned to Black Squadron. More specifically Black One, Poe Dameron's personal x-wing. The ship was hard to miss with its distinctive black and orange coloring it stood out among the others, just like the man himself. He was passionate (arrogant), outspoken (egotistical), and always (ALWAYS) messing up his damn ship. Which meant more work for you.

This led to some colorful conversations between the two of you. It was getting so bad that after he came back last time you both had to sit down with the General and have a talk. You couldn’t stand the man honestly. It was like he was trying to get under your skin, and the worst part was you let him.

“How’s my ship sparky?” came the smug voice you hated.

“I told you stop calling me that,” you sighed, “we promised the General that we were going to be professional from now on and you make it really fucking hard when you call me...that.” It had been a late night attempting the repairs on Poe’s X-wing, the ship was in horrible condition after a run in with some ties. You were replacing a power coupling when you had gotten shocked. Poe had been unfortunately nearby and saw the whole thing causing thus beginning of your trouble with the cocky pilot.

“Yeah, yea sorry about that,” he brushes off your comment, “but seriously how's my ship?”

You groaned, “honestly? It’s a mess fly boy, how do you always manage to make such a mess and still manage to not die?”

“I am the best pilot in the resistance, or hadn’t you heard?” he gives you that smirk and you honestly don’t know if you want to punch him or kiss him.

Whoa...what the hell was that thought?! You shake your head to hopefully restart your brain into working again. Poe Dameron, hate him, horrible person, get it right.

“You ok there?” Poe asks and for a moment you trick yourself into thinking he actually sounds concerned.

“I’m fine,” you huff, “I just can’t stand to be near you for too long, I’m worried some of your ego may rub off on me like some disease,” you brush your clothes off for affect.

You're too busy brushing yourself off. You miss the slight droop in his smile before he puts back on his poster boy face. “Well I won’t bother you anymore then, take care of my ship I’m leaving tomorrow for a mission.”

“You're leaving again already? You just got back,” the words are out of your mouth before you can even process what you just said.

Poe looks just as surprised, “yeah, I need to go retrieve some parts on Yavin for the General and I’m going to stay a couple extra days and visit my dad.”

“Oh...ok...but, you’re taking the x-wing? Why don’t you take one of the larger transports since you will be bringing back supplies?”

“I am.”

“Then...then why are you out here talking to me about your ship if you're not even taking it tomorrow?” your voice is quiet.

Several emotions cross over his face before he masks them all with indifference, “I just want to make sure you don’t skimp on my ship while I’m gone.”

Like a snap of your fingers, the ass is back, “Whatever Dameron, get the hell out of here and let me work. And leave BB-8, I could use his help.”

The droid has been quiet during the whole exchange and rolls over to you. While Dameron was a nightmare his droid was the sweetest in the entire galaxy. You wave Poe off and he just turns away and leaves.

You sit down and sigh, putting your head in your hands. Poe always left you with feelings you couldn’t understand. He could be so pleasant and then just...not in the blink of an eye. You feel the body of the droid press gently to your knee in comfort and you rest your hand on his dome head. “Is he always like this?” you ask the droid.

Beep beep boop beep

“Only with me? Well that’s a comfort,” you rub your fingers gently into your temples.

Beep boop beep beep

Your head snaps up and you look at the droid incredulous, “He what? Can you repeat that?”

Beep boop beep beep

You can’t help but burst out laughing, holding onto your sides as you almost slide off the crate your sitting on. “He...he likes me?! Oh BB-8 I didn’t realize you were programmed to tell jokes!”

Beep Beep

“No, no BB-8 he does not like me, and I’m sorry buddy but I don’t like him like that either,” you pat him gently before going back to the x-wing leaving the conversation unfinished.

The next morning, you wake up and shower. Walking to the mess hall to grab a quick breakfast before going back to the chaos of the x-wing. When you're just about to enter the mess hall you're quickly crowded back into one of the stone pillars holding up the structure. “Where the hell did you put them?” Poe Dameron asks, getting in your face.

You push him away from you but he’s like a statue, unyielding. “What are you talking about?” you shout. His hand quickly comes over your mouth and you bite him. He yelps before pulling his hand back shaking it.

“Will you quiet down! The General is in the mess and I don’t want her to hear us.”

“Then don’t put your dirty hands over my mouth, I don’t know where the hell those have been!” you hiss at him.

“Ok, okay….now back to my question, where did you put the keys to my transport?”

“How the hell would I know where the keys are?!” you try to keep your voice down, “I’m a mechanic not your mother!”

“Shhhhh!” he whispers at you before pulling you away from the mess hall and the warmth of your breakfast. You try to rip your arm out of his, to no avail.

“Where the hell are you taking me?” you ask. He doesn’t answer, just keeps pulling you back towards the personal quarters.

When you reach his room, he pulls you inside before closing the door behind you, dropping your arm. “Ok, tell her exactly what you told me?” he gestures to BB-8.

Beep Beep Boop Beep Beep

Poe shakes his head before dropping to one knee in front of the droid, “You lied? Buddy, why would you lie to me?”

Beep Boop Boop Beep

“What do you mean you have something to show me BB-8? Show me what?” you ask kneeing beside Poe in front of the droid. You know it’s impossible but the droid almost looks like a delinquent child in front of his parents.

BB-8 looks back and forth between the two of you before he begins to play a holographic recording. On the scene is Poe sitting down on his couch with his guitar strumming gently.

“Turn it off,” Poe whispers horrified, “BB-8 turn it off right now.”

The droid ignores him and continues to play the recording. Poe rises from his knee and begins pacing behind you running his hands through his curls. Your eyes are glued to the recording.

“Why does she get under my skin so much buddy? It’s like...no it can’t be. I mean yes, she’s beautiful...smart...and god when she is covered in engine grease it’s one of the sexiest images in the verse….shit I...I like her don’t I?” Hologram Poe puts down the guitar before running his hands through his hair.

BB-8 ends the recording and you don’t move for several minutes. Replaying the scene over and over again in your mind. You slowly rise to your feet and turn not sure what you're going to see. Behind you Poe Dameron, the hero of the resistance is staring at you a mixture of fear and hope on his face.

You take a few hesitant steps toward him, he remains rooted to the ground. You reach out one hand tentatively toward him before placing it gently on his cheek, his head moves slowly into the embrace. “You like me?” you whisper.

He nods slowly, “yeah…I wanted to deny it, it evaded me for so long.

You nod slowly, running your hand down his neck, to his arm, and down to his hand. You hold his much larger hand in your own. He takes a step closer to you. “But you haven’t told me, how do you feel?” his words are low and deep and you feel the heat pooling between your legs.

“....I think....you are one of the most infuriating men in the galaxy...but you're also kind, loyal, and the best pilot in the resistance, even if your reckless with your ship. I would be lying if I told you I haven’t been feeling something too.”

He steps one step closer, and you feel his breath on your lips, “so what do we do now?” he whispers, you feel the ghost of his lips on your own.

“This,” he whispers before moving the rest of the way and kissing you. His lips are soft and warm and his kisses are sweeter than any honey. He doesn’t push too far and your hands slowly reach up to bury into his curls. You open your mouth to sigh, and he slides his tongue into your mouth and you smile into the kiss. When you break apart for air he presses his forehead gently to your own. His smile matching your own.

“That was...everything I thought it would be and more,” he tells you whispering.

You press your lips to his lightly and he groans against your mouth when you begin to move your body against his own. He pulls back slightly, “as much as I want this, and god do I want this, I really need to find those keys and get going.”

You pout slightly and he laughs pulling you in for several more small kisses. Both of you draw your attention to the small droid who is beeping happily. You both furrow your brow at him before he pops open a compartment on his body and out pops the keys on the ground. You both drop open your mouths before bursting into laughter.

“I think your droid has been playing matchmaker,” you giggle at Poe.

“Well if that’s one of the new upgrades they installed, I think it’s the best one yet!” he laughs with you.

“Come along Commander, it’s time we get you off to your mission, we will have plenty more time to talk when you get back,” you go to move towards the door when his hand gently grabs your wrist.

You look at him with questioning eyes, “I know I said this before….but I really like you….Sparky.” The grin that fills his face leaves with that same feeling you had yesterday, you want to either punch him or kiss him. But, this time you choose the latter, and you do.

Day 13: Water Flowed - Llewyn Davis

#Oscar Isaac #star wars #poe dameron #Poe Dameron x reader #Sexy curls #November writing challenge #Day 12

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fandomfluffandfuck · 3 years ago

Note

💞 anon again! But like with Covid stuff, so if u don’t wanna respond that’s cool lol

Oh don’t even get me STARTED on the mask mandates coming down. Both my parents are immunocompromised and I have asthma so it’s hard for us to do anything. The only person that kinda has a life is my sister, but she’s still pretty safe and I’m glad she can hang out with some people. But it’s ridiculous because if/when another variant takes over the US, people are gonna be sooooo surprised as to how it happened (as if lack of masks and testing and distancing aren’t exactly why). I’m still in shock when I see people in public without a mask! Ever since March 2020, I either have dreams that I’m in a public place without a mask and I know somethings off, or I’m the only one with a mask and I’m getting yelled at. I’m in grad school and I literally had a dream last night that I was back in high school getting made fun of at lunch for being the only one wearing a mask in class, and then I spent the rest of the dream wondering how I’m gonna go home to my parents who are at risk 🙃 idk how to explain to people that no, I’m not insane, and that maybe trying not to get a deadly and/or disabling disease considering how our country handles healthcare and disabilities actually makes ME the smart person, and not Jake and Chad over there “living their lives” aka being human incubators for disease! (And obviously there are ppl who have to go into work and be exposed, but no one over those companies are trying to protect their workers either!) Maybe, just maybe, I would like to not get it at all and losing a little bit of my freedom to protect myself and others is cool with me. Anyways, here’s to hoping if I got to bed early I DONT have another high school mask dream lol

- 💞 anon

related to this

Answering under the cut because god knows pandemic fatigue is real... we gotta keep fighting it, but if you don't feel like consuming content with it, you don't have to.

Oof, anon, I feel you with the immunocompromised feels and fears. I myself am not, nor am I asthmatic, but I have friends/family that are and yeah... it's fucking scary. Like, yes, if you're vaccinated/boosted you'll likely be so-so okay but that doesn't warrant getting sick in the first place if you can stop it from happening. I wish people would be more aware of others, we're all exhausted. I know. But if we all buckled down one last time together. Literally. All. Together. It would be HUGE. It would change tides for good.

Yeah, though the good, safe fun you can have- take as much as you can so you don't burn out.

Right?! Like, I've already seen the dropped mandates lead to spikes and then people scratching their heads as a result. As if it's not Obvious as hell.

Same same same, I am always shocked too. I've also noticed that it makes me uneasy to see. I don't feel safe around people I don't know when they don't have a mask on or its clearly a sub-par mask (like the fucking see-through/ mesh ones that are Awful and don't do shit). Huh, I haven't experienced dreams about it though. Although, I'm sure there are people out there who had stress dreams over it.

Yeah, yeah, all of that last part I totally agree with you. Like, I will continue to wear a mask for the people around me. And I will continue to get stabbed in the arm as many times as I'm told to (with scientific evidence backing it up y’know). Because I'm exhausted with the pandemic, 1,000,000%, however, that doesn't mean I'm giving up with safety.

But, yeah, all of that [derogatory] aside, hopefully you had/have sweet dreams

#asks #💞 anon #not fandom #covid #pandemic #covid 19

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theheartsmistakes · 4 years ago

Text

Any Other Name

.Chapter 1.

The London Institute hadn’t changed in the five years since Cordelia had last seen it. Its pointed rooftops disappeared into the alloy colored clouds that perpetually covered the sky of London making Cordelia sometimes wonder if underneath the constant precipitation the sky was purple or grey rather than blue. The arched glossy windows reflected the view of the city with the billowing smoke from the factories, the lines from the bridges, and the diamond-like flecks that glittered off of the Thames.

It rivaled the Institute in Tehran in size alone, but otherwise, the cold, steel gray of the stones had nothing on the warmth and light of the sand-colored building that she had been living in for the past five years. Already she missed the way the sun warmed the inside of the building and filled the rooms with its light that sent fractals of color off of the beads that adorned the bright colored drapes in her bedroom. She missed the smells of spices, burning applewood, and whatever flower bloomed wildly in that season as she walked the crowded merchant-lined streets.

She’d only been in London all of ten minutes and already she wanted to climb back through the portal and take her grandmother up on her offer to let her live there with her in her small one-bedroom flat.

“We are a family,” said her father proudly when he informed them at the dinner table only a week before that they (he) were offered the position to be head of the London Institute after the removal of William and Tessa Herondale. “This is a family decision. No one is staying behind. We are moving as a family.”

It didn’t feel like a family decision when he removed her bedroom door after she’d locked herself in for twenty-four hours in protest.

One year, she told herself. One measly little year in the dreary, desolate wasteland that was London, and then she would be eighteen and free to make her own decisions including where she wanted to live.

Her older brother Alastair, the bastard, had turned eighteen only a month ago and had opted to remain in Tehran to help oversee the Institute until the Clave found a family to take over. Cordelia bristled at the idea of someone else living in her room which she’d just managed to decorate according to her taste. What if they turned it into a boring old office or Angel forbid a crafts room.

Never, in her seventeen years, did she hate her parents. Not for any reason for they were quite good parents. They let her go out with her friends any night of the week she wanted, they supported her in whatever protest or interest she happened to be on even if it pertained to mundane issues, and she rather liked spending time with them when she wasn’t training or out in the city with her small, but loyal group of friends.

Her friends.

They’d only said goodbye a few hours ago, but she’d at least hoped for one fire message of encouragement to help her through these trying times.

She’d scold them for it later.

When she’d come to London as a child during her parent's annual Clave meetings, the only enjoyable part of being here visiting with the ever eccentric Lucie Herondale. They’d become fast friends when they first met at ten years old and remained in touch either through fire messages, the occasional visits, or annual Clave meetings. Until about six months, when all correspondence stopped. Cordelia sent her dozens of messages, but none of them were answered. When she attempted to call from a city payphone on the landline she knew Lucie kept, the automated message said the phone number had been disconnected.

Cordelia wondered if it was something that she had done or said that upset Lucie. That was until a week ago when her parents sat down with her and her brother and told them of the Clave’s decision to exile the Herondale’s for their demon blood.

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard!” Cordelia yelled when her parents informed both her and Alastair. “They’re exiled? What does that even mean?”

“It means they’re no longer considered Shadowhunters,” said Alastair from where he sat across from her at the dining room table. He was rather unperturbed by the situation which didn’t surprise Cordelia in the least. He never liked the Herondale’s; least of all James Herondale, Lucie’s older brother.

“I know what it means, Alastair, I’m being dramatic,” snapped Cordelia. “What did they do to deserve this? Will has always been an esteemed member of the Clave and Tessa as well. They can’t do this to them!”

Elias, Cordelia’s traitorous father looked to her mother Sona for assistance but her mother looked just as angry as Cordelia felt.

“It’s all to do with their blood,” said Elias carefully.

“Their blood?” Cordelia said as if he’d just announced he was infected with some virulent disease.

“Bigotry, darling,” said Sona and glanced at him over the edge of the purple scarf that concealed her hair. “I think the word you are looking for is ‘bigotry’.”

“No,” said Elias. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Why not,” said Sona, flippantly. “It’s not as if the Clave is here to hear you. We’ve always been honest with the children, it won’t do to stop now.”

“Sona, please.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. This was an argument that they have had before and did not side with one another. “We agreed to be a unified front.”

“I agreed to no such thing,” said Sona and turned her gaze to Cordelia. “The Clave upon hearing that Tessa’s father is the greater demon Belial, has decided that despite her angelic heritage, her blood is tainted and we cannot allow tainted blood into the community in fear that her demon-side will eventually take over and she— or her children— will be responsible for something horrendous which is the nature of their kind.”

Cordelia gapped like a landlocked fish. “That’s the most idiotic thing I have ever heard!”

Sona nodded.

“Tessa is one of the kindest, sweetest, most good-natured people that I have ever met!” Her voice inched up an octave that had Alastair grimacing. She didn’t care. This was criminal. This went against everything she’d ever believed. Tessa was someone as close to an aunt as Cordelia would ever have. “Doesn’t the angelic blood dominate the demon side anyway!”

Sona nodded. “The Clave claims they do not have enough evidence of this and therefore cannot risk it.”

“You keep saying the Clave,” said Cordelia vehemently. “Who exactly are you referring to?”

“It’s all of them, darling,” said Elias.

Sona rolled her eyes. “Inquisitor Bridgetstock, the toad, is who I am referring to and the hoard of Clave members that he has fear-mongered into following after him. This is what we deserve for establishing a democracy.”

“You’d prefer totalitarianism?” said Elias.

Sona just shrugged again. “If it meant avoiding this lunacy, then yes, I suppose I do.”

Cordelia felt like screaming to release some of the frustration building in her chest. “What about Will?”

“His mother was a mundane,” said Elias.

“Oh.” Cordelia felt her cheeks fill with heat. “So the Clave has something against Mundanes, as well. So was Sophie Lightwood, are they going to exile her too?”

“The Clave is trying to keep the Shadowhunter bloodline pure,” said Elias, carefully, but there was a note of distaste in the last word. “Sophie ascended so therefore she is for all intents and purposes a Shadowhunter. Also, Will wouldn’t abandon Tessa or his children even if it meant keeping his marks. He was very adamant about that part.”

Cordelia slumped back against her chair and crossed her arms in a way she hadn’t done since she was a child. “So what, we’re just meant to pretend like they never existed? Is that what you’re saying?”

Both of her parents averted their eyes. Sona looked down at her hands resting in her lap and Elias stared at the plate of food he hadn’t touched in front of him. “Yes,” he finally said. “The punishment for fraternizing with ‘the exiled’ or any Downworlder unless it is for official Clave business is deemed punishable.”

Cordelia scoffed, but it was Alastair who asked, “Punishable, how?”

“It depends on the severity,” said Elias and meant to leave it at that.

“Meaning,” inquired Cordelia.

“Meaning,” said Elias in a tone that implied he was finished with this conversation. “They are not our friends, colleagues, or otherwise. They are our enemies and we are to treat them as such. They are working on making this into a new law and if broken, it could mean the stripping of your marks.”

Even Alastair’s eyebrows rose at that. “It seems the Inquisitor is finally getting what he wanted after all, a cease and desist on any camaraderie with Downworlders. He always did see them as a vile group.”

Elias nodded but reached over to put his hand on Cordelia’s arm. “I know Lucie was a dear friend.”

Cordelia’s eyes swam with tears at the mention of Lucie’s name. She couldn’t imagine what Lucie was going through now. Was she afraid, angry, lonely, feeling everything all at once? At least she had her family, but was it enough? Would it be enough for Cordelia?

“I cannot stress how important it is that you obey these laws until we can come up with a way to have them disbanded,” said Elias. “I know your heart, Layla, I see its fire at any signs of adversity and I don’t want to be the one to temper it, but I need you to be careful and believe me when I saw, I will do everything within my capabilities to fix this.” He looked at each person sitting at the table with him. “I may not agree with the Clave’s decision, but for our own protection, we must comply. Do you understand?”

“You want us to be silent,” said Cordelia.

Elias’s hand slipped from his daughter’s arm.

“Sometimes words are not enough,” said Sona on the other end of the table. “Sometimes we can speak louder with our action. We have raised you to be free-thinkers, to defend the innocent, and protect the ones that need protecting. We trust that you will use your best judgement on how to do just that.”

Cordelia uncross her arms and dropped her hands into her lap. She wanted more than anything to go to her room and try to send another fire message to Lucie; to rage about how ridiculous this all was, and let her friend know that she wasn’t alone. That not for one moment would she, Cordelia Carstairs, who once painted herself red and marched through the streets of Tehran as a message to their mundane government that she did not agree with the patriarchal rules placed on women, would go along with these laws.

She thought of the Blackthorn family motto: Lex malla, lex nulla.

A bad law is no law and how she wished she could claim it is her own.

But she couldn’t message Lucie. She didn’t even have a way to reach her and maybe Lucie didn’t want to speak to her anyway if she hadn’t even attempted to contact her in some other way.

“I hate this,” she said quietly.

“I know, Layla,” said her mother. “I know.”

“What of the Fairchilds?” asked Alastair, stirring his mashed potatoes around with his fork. “How did the Clave get Charlotte to agree to this? They’re practically family. Isn’t the blond one parabatai with the eldest of the Herondales?”

Elias sighed and nodded. “He is— was. He is being stripped of his mark this week.”

Cordelia gasped and felt as if she might vomit. “Matthew would never!”

“He didn’t have a choice,” said Elias. “It was either have his parabatai mark removed or be exiled.”

“He’d choose to be exiled.” Cordelia didn’t know Matthew Fairchild all that well, but she knew he wouldn’t abandon his dearest and oldest friend. The friend he chose to tie his own life.

“He’s not yet eighteen,” said Elias. “He cannot make that choice.”

“Charlotte is allowing this?”

“Charlotte has been removed from her place as Consul for not agreeing to any of this and is being replaced by Marcus Pounceby.”

“Marcus Pounceby!” said Alastair and Cordelia together.

Their father just nodded though his expression had grown increasingly tired. “Yes, it appears that if one just bends every which way for the Clave one can achieve a lot.”

Cordelia had to physically restrain herself from flipping the table. “This is bullshit!”

“Cordelia!” Her mother hissed. “I know you’re upset, but I won’t hear that sort of language at the table.”

“I’m sorry.” She wasn’t, and saying ‘this is crap’ just didn’t justify how she felt. “I can’t believe this is happening. I thought we were supposed to be better than mundanes. This feels like its been torn directly out of one of their history books. Next they’ll have use hunting Downworlders and demons.” She couldn’t sit there any longer. She couldn’t handle any more information that made her want to portal directly to Alicante and demand they strip her of her marks. What was stopping them from exiling her family next? What if they stopped liking her hair color or decided she wasn’t fit to be a Shadowhunter because she was a woman? “May I be excused?”

“You haven’t eaten anything,” said her mother.

“I’ve lost my appetite.”

“Your mother worked—“ Elias started but Sona shook her head and said, “Yes, just clear your plate and you can go.”

——————

In the week that followed that conversation things progressively got worse. It helped that she was in Tehran with her friends, battling demons that terrorized the night and training during the day, until that fateful night when her father declared that they were moving to the London Institute.

The inside seemed as dark and cold as the outside. She didn’t remember it being this way when she visited as a girl. It used to be so full of light, but perhaps it was the people that occupied it that made it that way. Now, it seemed as lonely and depressed by their absence as Cordelia felt.

She dragged her suitcase up the flight of stairs to the second story and shuffled down the hall at a glacial pace as if every step was a concession to agreeing to live here. The hallway had holes in it where pictures were once hung by Tessa of her family and their lives there. Cordelia could remember a few: one of Tessa and Will on their wedding day, another of Tessa heavily pregnant while hanging a Christmas ornament on the tree, one of Will holding a baby, and one of all four of them together underneath the Eiffel Tower. Lucie was only six in the picture and resting her tired head on her father’s shoulder. James stood in front of his mum with a half-smile on his face and a baguette in each of his hands.

The barren walls seemed to groan and sigh as she walked past.

The door she knew to be hers was already opened, a dull strip of light came out into the hallway. Cordelia stood in front of the dark red wood of the door and nudged it open with the toe of her boot. It squeaked on its hinges as it slowly revealed the bedroom inside.

Memories of laughter crashed into her like a blast of icy, winter wind. Two little girls sitting on the massive bed, the covers were thrown over their heads with a witch light glowing between them, as they brought their collection of dolls to life in elaborate stories.

It still smelled like her— like Lucie. A mixture of Damascus roses, ink, and freshly printed papers.

Cordelia sighed and dropped her bag at her feet.

The bed was the only thing that remained of what used to be Lucie’s old bedroom. Stripped of the colorful coverlet and sheets that Lucie had chosen, it was just an old mattress with a plush, lavender velvet headboard. The only sign of there ever having been any more furniture were the marks in the wooden floorboard where Lucie’s writing desk sat and piles of dust in the corners.

“It’s not much now,” said her mother whom she hadn’t heard come up behind her. “But you can make it your own.”

Cordelia scoffed. “I don’t want to make it my own.” It was Lucie’s. It would always be Lucie’s.

She felt her mother’s hand on her waist. “I know this is difficult for you, Layla, but we must make the best of it. It’s what Lucie would have wanted.”

Cordelia turned. “Please don’t talk about her as if she’s dead. I did what you asked, I moved here, please don’t expect me to be happy about it. It’s not enough that I have to stay in this house, but I have to live in her room and make it my own. I won’t. My stuff may be stored in here, but it’s not mine. My room is in Tehran.” She turned back around and glared at the large space before her as if it’d done her some great wrong.

Sona patted her daughter on the waist before releasing her. “I didn’t come up here to upset you more, but I feel I should warn you. The Inquisitor and the Consul are coming by in an hour to meet us. They want to discuss a few things with your father over dinner. I was told to tell you to please be on your absolute best behavior.”

“So you’re asking me to sit there and look pretty?”

Sona’s eyebrows quirked. “We need to support your father. He is the only one in the Clave that has any semblance of reason. They trust him, we need to help strengthen that trust if he is to help make sense of some of this nonsense. Do you understand?”

Cordelia hugged herself. “I hate them.”

“Hate them all you like,” said Sona. “You don’t even have to speak to them if you don’t want to, but you do need to be present. The Consul’s son will be there.”

“Augustus?” said Cordelia with distaste. “Can’t you tell them I’m ill or tired from our travels. Jet lag is still a thing even if you portal.”

Sona tapped her wrist where a watch should be. “Dinner is at seven. Dress respectably.”

Cordelia looked down at the black bike shorts she had under the oversized gray sweatshirt she’d thrown on that morning while she finished all her last-minute packing. By respectable, she knew her mother meant nice, pretty, clean. Look how they want you to look so we can attempt to impress Inquisitor Bridgestock and Consul Pounceby because even though we don’t agree with their decisions, we still have to abide by their laws.

It made her want to punch a hole in the wall or throw something out the window.

She pulled the strap for the scabbard holding Cortana, her beloved sword, over her neck and rested her blade against the wall beside the closet door, and walked across the room to sit on the edge of the mattress.

Never once in her life was she ever not proud to be a Shadowhunter. It was as much a part of her as the color of skin, her name, or the distinct tone of her voice. The angelic blood sang in her veins and powered her limbs to protect those who could not protect themselves against the darkness and evil that threatened it. Never once did she consider that darkness and evil could ever touch or harm her community; that it would never be found there. Now, she came to realize, it was not so far away.

How could she fight her government? She couldn’t, not without consequences, but how could she stay silent either about what she knew to be wrong and unjust.

Her whole existence felt like the inside of a snow globe after it was turned upside down and shaken. Now, she just had to wait for the dust to settle, and perhaps things would not look so different then.

———————

The Consul was the first to arrive.

Cordelia stood in the bathroom mirror smoothing out the dress she’d thrown in the bag she packed while they waited for the rest of their things to arrive from Tehran. The white of the soft fabric warmed her skin and brought out the flecks of copper in her red hair that she left down and curled at the ends. Her mother would scoff at the length of the hem, falling to the middle of her thighs. It wasn’t exactly what Cordelia would have chosen to wear to this dinner either, but she’d left her Fuck the Patriarchy t-shirt and ripped jeans in the box with all of her clothes in Tehran. It may be written in Persian, but the look on her parents’ face would have been worth it, and who knows, perhaps it could have been a conversation starter.

She was pulling on a pair of dark leather sandals when she heard the sound of voices fill the foray. Her mother’s warm, but fake laughter sent a pinch across Cordelia’s spine. She knew it wasn’t sincere, but she still would rather hear the sound of her mother kicking them out of her house rather than welcoming them in.

I am not being complicit, she told herself as she turned towards the bedroom door. I am infiltrating the enemy. I will find their weakness. I will attempt to understand them so I can use the knowledge later to destroy them… And I will spit in their water glasses and lick their bread rolls.

With a practiced smile, she marched towards the door when she felt the give and heard the groan from a floorboard beneath her foot. She looked down and carefully lifted her right foot and watched as the board rose back up.

Interesting. None of the other boards did that.

Carefully, she got down onto her knees and dug her nails into the crack around the board. The perimeters showed markings of being dug out before. She pried it up enough to get her fingers underneath and it popped up with ease. She slid it away and beneath was a white sheet of paper with a garden stone sitting on top of it and Cordelia’s name written on the front.

Cordelia looked up to make sure no one was coming. The voices could still be heard from the foray and dinner didn’t technically start for five more minutes.

She reached down into the hole and slid the paper out from underneath the rock.

Sitting back on her hip, she unfolded it and read:

50 Ernest St, Bethnal Green, London

The Old Clock Tower

February 3, at 10 P.M.

Cielu Rhonelade

Cielu Rhonelade. Cordelia smiled as she mentally rearranged the letters to read Lucie Herondale. It was her nom de plume for a time when they were kids and Lucie wanted to be like the author George Eliot and claim her work under a different name.

But it was Lucie, of that Cordelia was sure, and she wanted to meet with Cordelia tonight.

A/N:

This story can also be found on AO3 if you would prefer to read it there.

Likes, comments, and reblog are always appreciated!

Next update: Friday, 5/14

#the shadowhunter chronicles #chain of gold #chain of iron #chain of thorns #the last hours #james herondale #cordelia carstairs #james x cordelia #jordelia fanfiction #cassandra clare #modern au #alternative au #thomas lightwood #lucie herondale #christopher lightwood #alastair carstairs #will x tessa #jesse blackthorn #grace blackthorn

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