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needleandhammer · 4 years ago

Text

Fruition

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Female!Reader

Word Count: 6216

Summary: You're the Governor's daughter and you've caught the eye of Boston's most eligible bachelor.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content. Unprotected sex. P in v. Reader's first time having sex. Cunnilingus. Dub con. Possessive!Ransom. Sort of Dark!Ransom. Historically inaccurate. Slight breeding kink. 18+ only!

A/N: Period au. I kept the time period and nobility ranking real vague because I'm not about to research and actually world-build a mashed 19th century American colonies and Victorian period au :D It's not quite as dark!Ransom as I had intended, mostly soft. Inspired by Bridgerton, yes. And the amazing debauchery of @stargazingfangirl18 for their Soft Dark 5k challenge. Congrats and thank you for such amazing stories!

Yet another season of balls, picnics, and courtship.

“Have you heard the news? The young Drysdale is to be named heir to the Thrombey estates.”

“That makes him heir to both Thrombey and Drysdale legacies.”

“Do you think he’s in search of a wife?”

“It’s Drysdale we’re talking about. The only thing he’s in search of is someone to warm his bed for one night.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. All that inheritance must require a wife to keep in order.”

“I wouldn’t mind warming his bed even for one night.”

“Shh! That’s scandalous!”

You heard your name and looked up to see your friend Vincenza approach. “Have you heard? Drysdale is to be—“

“Must I endure an entire evening of talk about that boorish man?”

She giggled at your complaint. “But it’s the talk of the city. Lord Thrombey has replaced his own son with his grandson as heir. And…” She glanced around, leaning close to you to whisper. “I heard that the transfer of inheritance was all due to Drysdale’s uncle’s inability to produce a child.”

Your brow folded, unsure whether such a decision was fair. “Well it’s not our business, Vinnie.”

“But that’s the thing!” Her whisper grew breathless with excitement. “It’s all of our business. Well, those of us not determined to narrow our marriage choices in the name of love.” She shook her head at you with good nature. “If Drysdale is to produce an heir, he needs a wife! It’s certain that all the available ladies of Boston will be trying to earn his favor.”

You sighed as Vinnie hooked her arm around your elbow, both of you weaving slowly through the ballroom.

It wasn’t like you weren’t used to this, hearing gossip about the infamous Drysdale son, the eldest grandson to the retired Lord Thrombey. How such a noble scholar could be related to the notorious heartbreaker sometimes stretched your comprehension. And even more ridiculous, autumn found you as Drysdale’s target for humiliation. You knew such a flirt had no intentions of settling down, yet, he had endeavored to make sure he danced with you at every ball thus far this season, and even called on you at your city townhome. You were quick to inform him that you were uninterested, yet he seemed unbothered. In fact, upon your firm rejection, Drysdale seemed to make it his goal to visit your brother as often as possible - as the two were college pals - ensuring you encountered him several times a week. Drysdale was not outright courting you, but he made his attentions evident to you. Most frustrating of all, he seemed to have a knack for cornering you under the guise of innocently keeping his friend’s sister company. It irked you that your family could not see what you saw.

You caught sight of your brother waving at you, so you led Vinnie in his direction.

Perhaps Vinnie was correct and you were closing doors that were better left open in the opulent realm of nobility courtship. Your chances of marrying for love were slim, but that didn’t mean you could not at least try to maneuver your way closer to those slim chances. Even in Boston’s ruthless high society of meddling mothers, envious debutantes, and arrogant “gentlemen.” But you were the Governor’s first-born daughter – beauty praised by all, poised and sharp, and most accomplished at a number of activities thanks to the Governor and your mother encouraging a diverse array of talents since you were young. Theirs was a happy and long marriage resulting in five children, and supported by a successful political career that you were proud to celebrate. You had no doubt that no matter the pressures of society, your parents would support you if you opposed an incompatible proposal in your search for the right person.

As long as you navigated the nobility’s courtship rituals with the wits you inherited from your own mother, there should be no reason you should lose the romantic interests of countless eligible bachelors, or heaven forbid, fall upon a scandal that may prevent a proposal of love.

Well, there was one reason you might end the season in scandal, by way of delivering a swift knee to the vulnerable private area of one particularly irritating gentleman in full public view of hundreds of good folk who have gathered to enjoy the Senator’s autumn ball. Alas, you were not going to bring that kind of shame to your parents.

The particular reason, the gentleman who irritated you so, was currently greeting your elder brother quietly, whilst his penetrating gaze remained on you. Determined not to be ruffled by his attention, you kept your shoulders back and chin high, sweeping your eyes through the crowd and dancers.

Your attention returned to your group of family and friends when your hand was captured. By him. Hugh Ransom Drysdale Thrombey.

“My, don’t you look breath-taking. It is my pleasure to get to see you tonight, Miss Y/L/N.” Drysdale’s eyes flowed down your form, and much to your chagrin, his smirk widened. No doubt the warm flush on your bare collar would be apparent to him.

You couldn’t help yourself, with those glowing azure eyes of his so clearly admiring your figure. The man was completely inappropriate.

“Yes, it surely is.” You offered a pursed barely-there smile and tugged your hand. He tightened his grip upon your fingers, raising them to meet his lips. You cursed yourself for choosing the delicate lace gloves this evening, as you felt his warm breath feather through the lace onto your skin. He deliberately kept his lips upon your fingers for longer than necessary, curved in that signature smirk.

“Mr. Drysdale, if I may have my hand back. I must obtain a beverage for my sister.”

Mischief twinkled back at you from his eyes. “Allow me to accompany you. I’m sure your brother and mother would both enjoy a drink,” he was quick to close down the objection posed on your lips.

Your brother thanked Drysdale with a clap on his shoulder and motioned for you to go on. You could only give Vinnie a frown as she preened at you with excitement. You proceeded without protest, knowing your brother’s attention was occupied, searching for a Miss Amarea Dane, whom you were certain you would welcome as sister-in-law very soon.

You smiled quietly to yourself, once again dreaming of following in your brother’s footsteps and finding a match so certain and true, so compelled by love and affection, rather than simply honor and title. To think, it had been Drysdale who had introduced the couple.

Suddenly, a man backed up straight into your path. You couldn’t avoid stumbling aside and directly into the arms of Drysdale.

“Watch yourself, Chen. Maybe go easy on the wine,” Drysdale called to the man who raised an empty glass at him with a laugh.

You attempted to straighten up, aware you were surrounded by several people and had just fallen into the embrace of Drysdale, who was notorious for seducing the city’s ladies.

“Let go,” you insisted quietly, dropping your gaze to your wrist which he held on to.

Drysdale gave you stern glance and led you close behind him, keeping his grasp on you hidden as he pulled you through the room.

When the two of you made it beyond the side entrance, you tried retrieving your hand.

“Mr. Drysdale, let go.” You had not wanted to draw attention with so many guests around you. You would die of embarrassment to allow anyone to see Drysdale’s hand on yours beyond the required polite greeting.

“Come, my lady. You cannot blame me for wishing to acquire your attention all to myself.”

“You are being most inappropriate.” You huffed as he pulled into the gardens. “Let go of me this instant.”

“So eager to return to your suitors? I’m sure I saw at least five gentleman who have called on you this month.”

“How can you know of the gentlemen who have called on me?” You dug your heels into the gravel, drawing up short when Drysdale stopped and rounded on you.

“Well, Barber makes no secret of his admiration for you. Or that idiot colonel’s son? And that Wilson fellow makes such noise at the gentlemen’s club about his intent to propose.”

You smiled at his apparent crossness. “Are you tracking my proposals? Are you requesting a fee for updating me about the intentions of my suitors?”

Drysdale stepped closer, his sharp jawline clenched. “So you’re pleased then?”

“Why shouldn’t I be?” You bit back a gasp when he tugged you forward, his hands on your waist which pressed against his front. “If you don’t let go—“

“What will you do?” His smirk returned and your fists pushed against the solid muscle of his arms. “What would you do?” He asked again, dipping his face close to yours. “If someone saw the Governor’s honorable eldest daughter, the pearl of the city, alone in the dark with a man?”

“How dare you? You better let go or my brother –“

“Would only be too happy to welcome me into the family.”

You did not miss his meaning. If you were discovered in this position by anyone, your brother would demand that your honor be redeemed by marriage to Drysdale. As handsome as the man was, you had no wish to pair the rest of your life with a man who flirted with dozens of women each season and broke just as many hearts.

“Well I am certain, sir, he would never force me to marry someone so crude as yourself. He is familiar with your outrageous behavior, so he knows you would make an ill match and I would never consent to it.” You tried leaning back from Drysdale, feeling a growl work from his chest. You couldn’t show him fear, no. You had enough of this man making your life miserable just because he was bored.

He didn’t relent, his palms flexing around your waist tighter. “You think that just because your father protects you, you are beyond the pressures, the claws of people of our standing?” He chuckled darkly. “I assure you, if it was between your happiness and ensuring your family avoids falling from grace, your parents would not hesitate to throw you to the wolves, to sacrifice your childish dreams in order to uphold their status. That’s what you’re searching for, isn’t it? Behind that pretty face are the same silly fancies as all the other girls. Dreams of love.”

“I don’t expect you to understand, so mock me all you want.” You continued struggling, determined to not back down from his burning gaze, but drawing short of breath all the same to have him so close. “Everyone knows you’re too busy fooling around and playing with women who, yes, want to find love. I only pity them for believing you have the ability to give that to them.”

He whispered your name low in warning, his voice sending a flutter down your stomach. You arranged a fierce scowl at him.

“It’s the truth. All you care about are your family’s riches and living like you have no responsibility to your community. Well, go on. Find some poor woman and give your family an heir so you can secure your fortune and continue your wild ways in comfort. But rest assured, I’d rather be thrown to wolves than end up paired with a man like you.”

Your squeak of shock was cut short when Drysdale crashed his mouth on yours. He molded your lips, swallowing your gasp as he sucked your lower lip. You felt suffocated with an intense heat blossoming from your stomach and growing further as you sensed the wet lick of his tongue.

Drysdale knew every time he pushed your buttons he got to enjoy your soft features lighting up just the way he liked; and at the same time he suffered your blatant disdain. For months he had told himself he was only after some entertainment in the form of your admittedly beautiful displeasure directed at him to liven up the droll season. Yet, here he was, unable to restrain himself from touching you, your warm smile haunting his thoughts, the silk of your skin an insufferable craving that occupied him at every hour.

You tried to twist out of his arms, but he held you pressed against him, a soft whimper from you further igniting his desire to wrap you up and make sure no other man witnessed you like this. Breathless. Vulnerable. So, so sweet, just as he imagined you would be.

You were unsure how to respond, failing to escape from his hold. So you fought back with your mouth, lips pushing against his, much to Drysdale’s delight. He barely allowed you to draw breath as he tilted his head, hand caressing the back of your neck to keep you close, quickly sneaking his tongue into the hot cavern of your mouth. He felt you tremble at his invasion, your hands gripping his jacket. He opened his eyes, appreciating the moon’s gleam on your cheek, your lashes fluttering. Despite your drawn brow, he could tell you were no longer opposed to his ministrations. He groaned when your tongue whirled against his.

It was the familiar quiver in your core that struck you and had you thrashing until you had pushed Drysdale away. You could not allow this man to awaken desires within you. You covered your mouth, panting, feeling tears sting your eyes.

You heard your name from him.

“Don’t!” You kept your face hidden with a hand, as though you could hide what had just happened. “Don’t every come near me again, Drysdale.”

“You can’t mean that.”

You stepped back before he could reach you. “I’m sorry. I am to call you Thrombey now, correct? You’ve inherited a title and doubled your worth. Well, don’t for one second think that makes me care for you.”

You rushed out of the garden, praying he wouldn’t catch up. Drysdale breathed deep. Your words stung him.

He shook himself, making a vow. Darling, you’re not getting away from me.

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

No, no, this could not be happening. It was still early in the day and your life was ruined. Or, it would be very soon.

“If you don’t accept my proposal, I will ensure that the whole city hears about your little moonlight tryst with Drysdale. We all know he’s not the type to step up for a woman’s honor. So you’ll be left with a scandal and no further suitors, you can be sure of it.”

That was the threat from Mr. Mildred, the colonel’s son who creeped on the edges of parties and was known to mistreat the help of his household.

You couldn’t stand the thought of marrying Mildred. Yet, what were your options? Your parents would heed your wishes, but the shame of a scandal would be hard for your family to recover from. You father’s reelection might even be impacted. Boston may be a modern city but progress was slow when it came to the rules of courtship amongst upper social circles. And your marriage prospects, well, very few bachelors would come calling once they heard you described as a loose woman.

It had been too much to hope that no one witnessed what happened in the garden.

You stood, restless and angry with yourself. How could you have melted into Drysdale’s touch? That was just as agonizing to you as Mildred’s words. Ever since you first met Drysdale, heard of his leisurely bachelor ways and his aversion to marriage and family, you had vowed to never fraternize with anyone of his nature. He was everything you did not want for a stable, loving family and spouse.

So many months, you had been forced to hear him mock you with pleasantries, intrude on your homely comforts, charm your mother and sisters, monopolize your brother’s time. And yet. His broad form hovering close to you as you practiced pianoforte. His many glances with those sky blue eyes during park strolls. The low purr of his voice that followed you into your dreams. Drysdale had managed to worm his way into your subconscious. At one point, you had thought he was tolerable, kind, and perhaps capable of sincerity; but that night in the garden had shown you his true colors.

Two days later, you fared no better. Your mother summoned you into the parlor, sharing that she had encountered Mr. Mildred at a tea party and he mentioned a dreadful whisper he believed to be about you and a gentleman together without chaperones in the Senator’s garden.

Had Mildred run out of patience already? Your mother’s tight frown was your answer. You apologized profusely, tears escaping as you tried to hold yourself together in the presence of someone you had sworn never to disappoint.

Apparently, Mildred informed your mother that such a whisper had not spread far, but he could not be certain of preventing its spread.

You were interrupted by the house maid, bringing a letter to your mother informing of a dinner visit.

The rest of your day, your head ached with the decision you had to make. Drysdale would not be affected by the gossip but you would not remain unscathed for long. Even with the respect your father received as Governor, your prospects grew slimmer than ever. Yet you could not accept a sacred vow of lifelong marriage to the conniving Mildred.

And Drysdale, well, you told yourself you would not entertain the idea. You had rejected his advances once already. You told yourself he had only courted you to add to his conquests and he only continued to antagonize you to alleviate his boredom.

It wasn’t until you entered the dining room that you realized your mother’s dinner guests were the Drysdales, including Lord Thrombey. You lowered yourself into a seat next to your sister, forcing a smile at Lady Drysdale before her strident tones returned to a conversation with your mother. Movement to your other side prompted you, but your smile fell flat to see Ransom Drysdale beside you. He only nodded to you, though you caught his eyes glinting with purpose before he turned to your brother.

It was halfway through dinner that Drysdale made the announcement. He had requested your father’s permission and was proposing to you this very night.

You scarcely noted your two families’ reactions, excusing yourself from the table and winding up in the dimly lit back yard of your home.

“Why?” you asked as soon as you heard footsteps behind you. Turning to Drysdale, you demanded, “Why are you doing this?”

He watched you, eyes dark and framed by thick lashes. His jaw tensed and then he stepped up to you, looking down at you.

“As you said. I have to earn my inheritance. I need an heir for my grandfather. For that to happen, I need a wife.”

You shook your head, his words striking at your heart.

“You’ll do just fine, I suppose,” he finished.

“No!” You shoved at his chest, barely swaying him. “You don’t get to do this. This is my life.”

“I heard what Mildred was going to do,” he said, swallowing hard. “If I didn’t propose, you’d have to marry him. Or –“

“I would deal with the gossip however I see fit! How could you come to my home and propose in front of our entire families. How could you—“

He wrapped his hands around your biceps, dragging you close. “You can’t say no.”

Helpless, you could only silently deny his ruthless words with an anguished shake of your head.

“You can’t say no to me. No matter what you tell yourself about how merciful your lovely society friends will be. We both know if you don’t accept my proposal…” He glanced away with a chuckle before eying you, his grin cocky, sneering. “And don’t even bother thinking you might escape from this by actually marrying Mildred. He’ll back off as soon as he hears the new Lord Thrombey has proposed. Either way, looks like you’re not going to the wolves.”

One hand grasped your neck and jaw, drawing your lips to his. He could sigh with relief. He had not been able to rest ever since tasting you.

“Drysdale –“

“Ransom,” he whispered, rubbing his lips to yours before reclaiming them in a deeper kiss that consumed all of your senses. You couldn’t gather your wits to question how he managed to force all thoughts from your mind. Surely your anger was the source of the sparks lit in your breast as you felt his tongue sweep into your mouth roughly. You sagged against him. Ransom’s lips released you, trailing along your skin.

“Call me Ransom.” His order came firm as he dropped kisses down the corner of your mouth to your ear. It pained him to be the cause of your tears, but he would be damned if he let that weasel Mildred sully your name, or get to twist his fingers in your dark tresses, learn your curves, taste your lips. No, Ransom would be your villain.

“R-Ransom,” you gasped out, so aware of his body heat rolling against you, his thick arms encircling you.

“Accept my proposal.” He knew he had crushed his very slight chances of being on the receiving end of your kind heart, forcing your hand like this.

He pressed his forehead to yours, warm hands framing either side of your face. His thumbs stroked away your tears, and you were struck by the earnest plea in his eyes.

"Alright."

He took a deep breath and stepped back from you, his face a cool mask. "Let us inform our families."

This may be another game to him, an easy means to an end. For you, it wasn’t a choice.

--‐-------------------------------------------------------------------------

You made it through your short engagement and overly grand wedding by devoting your entire energy to convincing your family that you were the eager, blushing bride. You offered minimal answers as your dear sister asked about how Drysdale – no, how Ransom had claimed your heart. You dutifully picked out wedding bouquets with your mother and responded to the well wishes of your father’s friends.

All the while, your busy schedule served as an excuse to avoid your groom-to-be. With middling success. Now that he had claimed your hand, and more, proved your dreams were all for naught, he couldn’t resist reminding you to your face how naïve you had been. Worse, he took advantage of his status as your fiancé.

He took the opportunity at every lunch to sit close to you and toss that triumphant smirk your way. He invited you to the park with your family, leading you ahead and lacing his fingers through yours as he put on a show of holding you steady upon the walkways. He played the love-struck bachelor, dragging you between the far shelves of your father’s library and exploring your mouth with a frenzy that left you dizzy. Your resistance was no match for his determination to overpower you, to flaunt his victory. Yet, you could almost see the arrogant curl of his mouth morphing with each kiss as his eyes softened. And each time, you grew more hopeless - conflicted - as his touch grew familiar, satisfying a part of you which you could not control. You were truly out of your depth when it came to Ransom.

It mattered not. You could not take back your word. The Governor’s daughter that you were so proud to be could not collapse in your own despair. As far as anyone was concerned, you and Ransom had both discovered an unlikely, passionate love for one another and wished very badly to wed.

You should have been exhausted after the early day of wedding celebration you had endured with Ransom, the incomparably handsome and gallant groom. And after many hours riding out to Halifax, the Thrombey country home. Your new home.

But a new challenge was upon you this late night - your wedding night. At least, that had been your sole problem up until Ransom had deposited you in your marital chamber and excused himself. You had absentmindedly, nervously, glided around the room to admire the woodwork. Only to notice a parchment corner peeking from the drawer of an antique desk. Which led you to open the drawer and pluck at the papers with your name upon them.

The pearl of the city. An apt title, yet it fails to define your beauty, Y/N…

…Is it a gift or a curse that I should be visited with visions of your sweet face as I sleep…

Barry speaks highly of you, his sister, and your affinity for family, your desire for a true love. A shame that such an exquisite soul should be beyond my grasp. No, I have earned this torture. I could never deserve you, nor offer you what you deserve…

So many lines speaking of admiration for your character, yearning to learn what would be worthy of your affections, admissions that you were too sweet, too good to be burdened with him. Words hinting of curiosity, of desire for a future with you, a family unlike the one he grew up with.

…I can only laugh at myself for daring to dream God might have mercy on me and lead me into your arms, and lead us to the dreams you and I share…

The sound of the door swinging open had you looking up to meet Ransom’s gaze. He slowed in his entrance, seeing the pile you clasped in hand.

“Those are mine,” he said, voice tight. His hands curled with your big eyes shining upon him full of question.

“My name is on them. They’re mine,” you countered.

“Forget them,” he commanded. “They are only…”

“Fancies? Silly dreams of…love?” you asked. “You’re a talented writer.” You smiled seeing his flushed cheeks, his averted, shy grimace.

“I used to sit with my grandfather for long hours. Reading. Discussing stories.”

“Did your grandfather also help you practice writing love letters?”

He smiled without mirth. “No. I figured I wanted to make a fool of myself so I documented foolish musings.”

You closed the distance between you. Your face was uplifted, beseeching Ransom to meet your eyes. He could not ignore your presence, attention intense on him and almost more than he could bear.

“Is there truth in these words?” you asked quietly, careful not to spook this man, this loud, cocky man who had presented you with such a convincing disdain for anything sincere.

“It does not matter.”

“It matters. Because you chose me.” You pressed your fingertips to his lip, stopping his protest. Ransom closed his eyes for moment, barely believing you were touching him of your own will. He breathed in your perfume, disoriented by your proximity, your discovery. “Why did you never…?”

“Because I’ve always known such things were childish. My own parents proved to me a long time ago love has little value in a family.”

You shook your head in protest of such cynicism. But the bitter turn of his mouth reminded you of various instances in his family's presence - his parent's demand for recognition and power, his uncle scoffing at expressions of kindness.

“Because I felt foolish for even wanting something different. You were right. Anyone would be lucky to avoid me and my family. We’re a sham. There’s nothing beneath the surface for my parents and they’ve taught me well.”

“There’s more,” you insisted.

“Well then I’m a coward because I can’t bring myself to go in search for more. You were right. I am content with my family’s fortune. I would have been fine growing old alone, but I had to trap you with me. Now, you won’t achieve your marriage of love, your desire for a warm family.”

You cupped his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. “I was the coward.” You drew him down, closing your eyes and pressing your foreheads together. “I saw more in you, but I was afraid. Afraid of risking my heart, afraid I might achieve the very thing that I have been yearning for.”

He whispered your name. You hushed him.

“Tell me. Do you truly love me?”

His breath feathered against your lips. “I love you.” There was such a raw vulnerability in his confession.

“Then that is all that matters. You and I will build the family we dreamed of. I promise.”

Like your vow had snipped him loose of his control, he yanked you in and kissed you hard.

“Be mine,” he murmured between sucks of your lips, drinking you in. “Give me all of you, and I swear, love, I’ll be your family. I’ll give you anything.”

You believed him. Cupped his head in yearning. “Yes. Yes, Ransom.”

His hands tugged impatiently at your gown, dragging the outer layers down. Long fingers pulled at your skirts. You worked at undoing his vest and shirt. Your hands trembled to feel his bare skin, the tickle of chest hair and such warmth emanating against you as he drew you close. You gasped to feel his hands squeezing your curves through your thin shift, seeking with greed for more. He walked you both to the bed and placed you in the middle, laid out for him as he had dreamt for months.

His touch dipped under your shift, setting your heart racing. As his mouth danced lower, he growled, tearing the top of your shift to expose your bare tits and mouth hungrily at them. You couldn’t stop wriggling, clutching around his neck and shoulders, arching up to his tongue that flicked a nipple before sucking.

“I’ve wanted you so long. Want to taste you.”

Before you knew it, you felt him panting at the delicate flesh between your legs, no article of clothing remotely hiding your body from him. He stopped you from closing your thighs, fingertips bruising as he held you open and licked broad stripes at your sex. You had never imagined such sensations, such a heat as Ransom so thoroughly pulled you apart with his mouth.

He watched through his lashes as you writhed, testing what you enjoyed most. His tongue teased at your entrance and then breached you to lash your inner walls. Your sharp cry had him groaning as his hard cock begged for friction. Your gasps bordered on sobs and he needed to see you fall off that edge.

His lips closed around your increasingly wet petals, shaking his head back and forth and sucking hard. When his teeth scraped your clit, your mouth froze open, your back arched off the bed and locked in feverish pleasure. Your rapture pulsed through you as he pressed his tongue flat to your throbbing bud.

“Darling, look at you.” How glorious you looked, soft and panting. Ransom climbed forward to kiss you, sharing the earthy tang of your pleasure. You hummed into his mouth, still drifting in a hazy cloud.

“Look at me, love,” he whispered. You opened your eyes. He watched you, lust and joy burning in his gaze. “You’re mine.”

You nuzzled his nose, whispered, “I’m yours.” Your breath left you as his cock, thick and insistent, pressed into you, pushing in and in until you felt nothing but full.

His lips never stopped kissing your face, your jaw, your mouth. As if he could tell the very instant the sting receded for you, Ransom moved, thrusting shallow. You found yourself wrapped around him, clinging as you had never been so desperate for another person before.

His moans and grunts joined you as he sped up. Everything he was doing, his hips clapping your thighs, his weight caging you, rekindled the thrill in you, the pleasure mounting more when he managed to slide his hand between you and swipe at your clit. You keened, unable to beg him to finish you off, but you knew he would do it. Knew he wouldn’t stop. His mouth sucked at your neck and he angled his thrust just so. You were lost to the world, grinding up against Ransom, chasing the pleasure that crackled from your core. Ransom nearly crushed you to the mattress as his rhythm rose to a frantic end and he released his seed through his swelling cock to fill you.

Your name rasped from him as he ground his hips into you with the instinctual need to ram his seed into your womb.

Long hours later, after Ransom’s need to claim you again resulted in multiple releases for you both, when you had caught your breath, you let him wind his naked form around yours.

You drifted off to his sleepy murmurs of, “I’m yours.”

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

A month later and Ransom maintained firm control of your attentions, both mental and physical. He seemed intent on desecrating every room of the vast country home. One afternoon, the two of you had toured the family’s art collection. He had lured you into an alcove to view a Verocchio sculpture. You ended up with his face buried between your legs under the sculpture’s shadow, biting your fist to quiet your moans as Ransom’s tongue thrust into you. Right before you came, he slipped out from your skirts, bunching them at your waist and pushing you up against the wall. Your faced pressed into his neck with relief to feel his cock stretch you. Opened you up with rough jolts as your legs drew tight around him. His hips snapped urgently, quickly blazing flames within you until your explosive climax overwhelmed you. He fucked you until he came, biting your shoulder as he rutted hard to push his release deep into you, until you were overfilled and his spend seeped out and trailed between the two of you to mix with your own juices.

Tonight, his desire for you was unrestrained. Already, he had kissed and licked what seemed like every inch of your skin. Your release dripped from you and into his greedy mouth latched to your folds as you came down from your high, tugging his dark locks of hair.

“Ransom, please.”

“Yes, love?” His lips grazed a path up your stomach, then up between your breasts littered with red love bites. He rubbed his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

“Need to feel you.”

Ransom grinned. He pulled you upward, lifting and turning you so you rested in his lap with your shoulder blades meeting his chest dusted with fine hair. You arched your back, feeling his hard, leaking cock so hot against your skin. His fingers combed your hair aside, mouth nipping and kissing from your neck to your shoulder.

His hand cupped your sex, groaning at the soaked heat of you. He guided you, lifting up just enough to run the sensitive head of his cock through your folds. Your whine forced more precum to dribble from his slit. He could resist no longer, his cock splitting you open as he drew you down upon his lap until he was buried to the hilt in your tight heat. Soft curses met your ears. You bit your lip, grinding back and forth. Ransom squeezed your waist, held you still.

“Ransom…”

Damned, how he loved the sound of his name falling from you, needy and wrecked from pleasure. And still wanting more of him. He couldn’t begin to guess how someone like him could deserve your affections and loyalty. Good thing he was a greedy bastard, unrepentant of his actions that had blessed his home and bed with you.

Shivers wracked your spine when he cooed at you with his gravelly tone. “You want me, love?”

“Want you so bad.”

He smirked at your whimper when he swirled his groin slow beneath you. His tongue teased along your earlobe, driving a plea from you.

“Want you, Ransom. Oh, please.”

“And you’ll give me what I desire, yes? Will you, love?”

You managed jerky nods, choking when he slid agonizingly slow from your cunt and pushed back into you. Only to stop and hold himself there, speared maddeningly in you.

His breath tickled your ear. “You, love, are going to give me a baby. Yes?”

He drove his hips up, drawing a moan from you.

“Isn’t that right, darling?”

“Y-yes…Rans…ah” You stuttered with his deep, hard strokes.

“Is that what you want? Hm? Big, beautiful family with me?”

“Yes.” Your response rushed out, breathy.

“Love you. Want to fill you up over and over.”

You whined loud, his words and the drag of his thick cock inside you driving you crazy.

“Because you’re mine. You’re all mine.” His hand curled over yours, pressing your palm and fingers to your core where the two of you were joined beneath dark curls. “Feel that?”

“Oh god.” You surely felt what he wanted you to. His steely member claiming you again and again.

“Yes, feel me and you? This.” He kept your hand there, feeling every push and pull of his cock, from inside and out, so you couldn’t escape him. “Feel how you belong to me? All of you. You’re mine forever.”

“I’m yours….” You cried out as his rhythm sped up. “Ransom!”

You threw your head back, both yours and his fingers circling the nub of your inflamed clit, his harsh breaths beating against your neck as his words blended.

“Mine,” he grunted.

Your pleasure burst like a dam, your release splashed and squirted out, then throbbed with his relentless touch. The wave spread outward, tensing your muscles, buzzing upon your skin. Feeling you squeeze and flutter around him drove Ransom to the brink until all he could think of was filling you, rooting his seed into you so you grew soft and big with his child. You were the beginning and finish of his everything.

Ransom couldn’t stop himself. His strokes grew uneven but remained deep, hard, determined. His arm wrapped around you tight as he launched you both forward, driving you onto your hands and knees so he could rut as deep as possible. You moaned, overcome with the hot rush of his seed filling you and his cock pounding it deeper into you.

You both settled into the bed with tangled limbs, slowing your breaths and the ache of desire. Your toes curled, enjoying the pressure of his cock nestled in you still, content that you both were looking forward to your first child. To a family all your own.

#siris5ksoftdarkchallenge #fanfiction #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #smut #ransom drysdale x woc!reader

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midaswhale20 · 3 years ago

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You’re the other Heartstopper fan!!! I was trying to remember who I followed that also read the WEBTOON and was excited about the show! I deadass stayed up and checked Netflix every 10 minutes from midnight til 3am, stopped watching ATLA and put it on as soon as it went up! Only reason I’m not rewatching right now is because it’s Crime Saturdays, and I have a 7day brit box trial so I can watch Father Brown. What did you think of the show??? I need someone to dish with!!!

Bro. I loved it so much. I have watched it 7 times. I could write articles.

I made a comprehensive list of scenes I would have screamed about and sent to my best friend so we could feel like we experienced it together. I will now sum up that list.

You asked for it 😂

I love the emphasis on Nick saying hi first. Because that’s how it was. Nick initiated the friendship in the comic, and he actively looks for Charlie in the show. It’s beautiful and I love it.

They did a really good job of highlighting Charlie’s PTSD from bullying and his relationship with B*n. Like, offering to do Nick’s homework because he feels like he has to do something to be worth something? Trauma response. Avoiding any and all confrontation in case it might become negative? Trauma response. Taking moments that have already happened and replacing them with things your anxiety says should have happened? Trauma response. Saying you ruin people’s lives and it would be better if you didn’t exist because someone cares for you so much and you’re not used to it and you think you’re unworthy of it? TRAUMA RESPONSE. He bases so much of his worth on what people had seen him as. It’s a really amazing way to show how traumatic it is to be a person and how difficult it can be to accept help or change. (Also the hints of the ED and the SH)

I really can never get over Charlie texting Nick “thanks for being my protective straight friend!” Like? Charlie? WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!?

I love Isaac. I have only had him for one day. But if anything happened to him, I would kill everyone in this room and then myself. Also the fact that he is autistically coded and aroace (confirmed by Alice) makes me so so so happy. I love him. Also there’s a scene of him reading radio silence

How do these children go up to each other’s houses and just… ring the doorbell? I always, ALWAYS text my friend saying “I think I’m here, come outside.” Like… WHAT IF IT IS THE WRONG HOUSE?!? Could never be me.

Nick is so touchy: I.E. tugging Charlie’s hair when he gets a hair cut. Grabbing Charlie’s arms when he finds him at the party. The hugs ™️. I could go on

The fact that no one, this entire show, has any clue about the rules or goals of rugby is so so accurate. How the fuck do you even play that game?

In this house, we love and cherish Charlie’s father. No, I will not be taking any criticisms at this time

The fact that these children barely use their phones. If my friend walked away from me in a busy place that I wasn’t familiar with, I’d have my phone out in 5 seconds to ask them where they were. I pay for that shit, I’m using it

Cannot believe how accurate to the comic this show is, especially when it comes to the kiss scenes 🤍

Why does Nick always cross him arms when he’s sitting at a desk?? I love him but like… why?

I think this show brings up a really good point about bullying. Like, after the cinema, when Charlie tells Nick that some of the Rugby boys are nice and Nick is like “even they just stood there”, it brings up the fact, very quickly, that Nick had just stood there too. We’ve seen him just stand there when Harry is a dick to Tao. We know Nick is a good guy. We know he would never do anything to hurt people on purpose. But we also see that doing nothing is almost just as bad. And we learn with Nick that not getting involved is NOT GOOD ENOUGH. I’m super into it.

The “we thank you for your service” line is something I want to get tattooed on my body

“Her dog died”…. That’s it

The way Tao says “Dance Machine” lives in my head rent free and I can’t explain why.

Nick Nelson: bad at boundaries, great at communication.

If you didn’t have your bisexual awakening to Kiera knightly or Orlando Bloom you’re lying

Tori Spring 🤍

Charlie always letting Nick choose who and when to tell people about them makes me so full of emotion

I do find it interesting that they almost had Charlie break up with nick. It feels…. Like a fever dream every time I watch that scene because like… what the fuck? In what universe???

Nick, nobody wants to play rugby. Please, pleeeease stop asking.

Nick doesn’t have a spider sense, he had a Charlie sense. Literally a field away and he’s like, OH MY GOD I CAN FEEL THAT SKINNY BITCH LOOKING AT ME

Parallel conversations 🥺

The beach - send tweet

They’re boyfriends

To sum up, I loved it. I’m planning to rewatch it again. It’s the only way I’ve been getting serotonin. And it makes me happy. Now, please enjoy my favorite shot:

These people knew what they were fucking doing.

#heartstopper

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ongreenergrasses · 3 years ago

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I think prompt #22 (kissing scratches/bruises) for mortal Andy and Quynh would probably just fucking end me.

so funny story! i was like oh this’ll be a good exercise, and then it turned into 2.8k words of angst and it had to find a home on ao3. here is an excerpt 🌹

They travel for a bit, but Quỳnh’s always had a little bit less patience with Andy around the concept of “traveling” without having any direction or goal. But they don’t have a destination in mind, and besides, everything between them is so raw. They don’t look at each other for too long. They can’t.

Quỳnh doesn’t even have a way to get her bearings straight. She has no frame of reference for what it means to be mortal, not anymore.

She burns her hands all the time, she always has, even as a child. A burn that would last thirty seconds on her could last for days on Andy. A papercut that heals in seconds for her could annoy Andy for hours. She starts swatting things out of Andy’s hands so she won’t hurt herself, because she doesn’t know what else to do. Andy’s annoyed about it and Quỳnh doesn’t know how to resolve the situation.

Quỳnh’s known so many mortal people. Her family has known so many mortal people. But her perspective is different, and she knows that, because she had hundreds of years with only fish for company, and now she’s out and she doesn’t have any frame of reference for what will happen with Andy, what hurts and what doesn’t, what Andy needs to be protected from and what she doesn’t. And Andy doesn’t take well to being coddled or protected, and Quỳnh doesn’t know what the boundaries are and where not to push, and even though they talk about it, it still doesn’t make Quỳnh feel any better. They’re both at a loss.

And since they’re focusing mostly on this, on Andy’s mortality, everything else is pretty aimless. They’re not focusing, they’re just going through the motions, and Quỳnh is so on edge. And everything remains hypothetical until they end up in a bar for trivia night, of all things, and Quỳnh suddenly has to deal with Andy’s mortality, again, and it’s so stupid, how it happens.

They’re in a bar, and someone says something, and Andy’s drunk because she still hasn’t learned to handle her much decreased alcohol tolerance, and instead of walking off whatever stupid comment is shouted, Andy turns around and takes a swing at the guy.

Quỳnh’s smaller than both of them, but she gets in between them and shoves Andy off and out the door, but not before some damage has been done. Andy’s still faster and the guy’s going to probably have to get stitches, but he landed a pretty good hit on her so Andy’s eye is swelling and she’s got some scratches on her cheek and on her forehead.

Quỳnh is furious, and she plans to yell as soon as they get back to their hotel, but as soon as the door shuts behind them she’s so tired.

“What do I do, Andy,” she asks. It comes out flat.

“I have some stuff in my bag.”

The stuff is an incredibly comprehensive first aid kit, and Quỳnh knows that it was Nicky’s work once she sees how particularly the bandages are folded.

This isn’t something Quỳnh knows how to do, bandaging wounds. She remembers the way they used to treat wounds, many years ago, but now she doesn’t recognize any of the creams or wipes or bandages. She wasn’t the one who did the medicinal things, that was mostly Nicky and Andy, and so she doesn’t even have an idea where to start. She can’t even read the words on the boxes. She’s so, so frustrated.

“Here,” Andy says, pulling the box away from her, “I’ll show you.”

Andy shows Quỳnh everything, patiently explains what each word means and what the item is used for, and keeps swiping at the blood that keeps dripping into her eyes while she does it. Quỳnh is so irritated and she can’t even express why. She wants to know this all, she wants to help, but nobody told her that this was something she’d have to prepare for. Quỳnh doesn’t understand how she didn’t know, how she didn’t see what had happened. She doesn’t understand why nobody told her.

“How come I didn’t see this?” she asks. “Did you hide this?”

“Of course not,” Andy says, offended.

Quỳnh raises an eyebrow.

“A little bit,” Andy capitulates. “I didn’t want to tell the others at the time. When they found out, they – didn’t react well.”

“How would anyone ever react well to this,” Quỳnh mumbles.

“It’s not such a surprise,” Andy says. “It will – come to us all. The end of this.”

“Stop,” Quỳnh says, and she pulls the alcohol wipes out of Andy’s hand and starts dabbing at the cuts over her eye. “You are – you are everything. You understand this, right?”

“Quỳnh, I’m not everything.”

“I just came back. I just came back, and now you are going to leave me, and you are – how do I go on without you? And I don’t even know how to use bandages, I don’t even know how to take care of you.”

“You always take care of me,” Andy says.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Quỳnh says abruptly. She puts a bandaid over the largest scratch on Andy’s forehead, and then before she can overthink it, leans over and presses a kiss to the top of it.

They’re both silent for a long moment. Quỳnh thinks she can feel Andy’s pulse pounding in her forehead.

“Can you go get some ice?” Andy finally asks, and her voice is clogged with tears. “For my hand.”

Quỳnh picks up the hand in question and slowly presses a kiss to each knuckle. They’re swelling and starting to bruise. Quỳnh has never seen Andy’s hand look like that. A tear rolls down Andy’s cheek and lands on Quỳnh’s shoulder, and she can’t stand it.

“Of course,” she says, pushing herself up to stand and grabbing the ice bucket.

you can find the rest here and physical affection prompts here

#ask and you shall receive #astrabear #andromaquynh #the old guard #andromache the scythian #quynh #immortal wives #also please lmk if people prefer that I add a line break #quỳnh #prompts

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shurelyasreverie · 4 years ago

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Hello :D, could I request some headcanons of Aurelion Sol , Pantheon and Aphelios with a S/o who is a omnipotent Deity

Sure thing! They ended up turning into headcanons about how I thought the relationships would go from the start 😁

Aphelios, Aurelion Sol, Pantheon x Deity!Reader Headcanons

Aphelios

Upon first meeting you, Aphelios would never have believed that you would be a deity. Why would someone so powerful be aimlessly wandering around Mount Targon? Of course to him, you had the heavenly look, an ethereal beauty that he had never seen before, but it didn't change the fact that you looked defenceless. He only believed when Alune told him how she had seen your nurturing presence in the spirit realm, and that you were to be trusted

There was tension when you refused to completely aid Aphelios in the conflict between the Lunari and Solari. You could literally change the course of this war, stomp the Solari with a mere wave of the hand, but you wouldn't, you said it wasn’t your right. All that you promised him was the safety of him and Alune which Aphelios learned to be extremely grateful for

The amount of times you've dragged Aphelios out of the spirit realm have become uncountable. Knowing that you had his back, Aphelios took riskier missions and made bolder moves. It only stopped when Alune chided him, saying, “Do you think a god would be impressed by a fool that constantly gets himself killed?” right in front of your face. Aphelios had never been so embarrassed

You confessed to him that you would like something more between you and thus, your romantic relationship started. You’ll have to be the one to make the first move. No matter how infatuated Aphelios was with you, he'd never confess to you, he believed it was out of his place to confess a romantic love to a deity

Truth be told, Aphelios is insecure about your relationship. You could literally have anyone in the entire cosmos yet you chose to stay by his side. Do you truly consider him a lover or simply one of many assets in the universe to entertain your immortal life? Surely you'd tire of him sooner or later, there were probably plenty of individuals – mortal, even – who were far more fascinating than him

Your relationship has become a ticking time bomb. For now it’s okay but Aphelios is aware there may be a time where your interests collide with his faith of the moon. And that is one secret he has hidden from Alune, when the time comes to choose between you and the moon, he shall follow you

Aurelion Sol

The two of you have known each other since the creation of time itself. Throughout the eons of existing, the two of you have certainly had your fights and quarrels. What gods wouldn't? Existing for so long without any drama would be incredibly boring so the two of you would start drama amongst yourselves

But as the gods started taking interest in smaller, mortal matters, they started taking sides. The little quarrels and arguments turned more serious until they became wars that split space itself apart. It was then and there that you and Aurelion Sol realised just how important you found each other, sharing a bond that goes beyond human comprehension

Knowing how confident the god is, Aurelion Sol really wouldn't tolerate having anyone else other than a fellow god by his side. Anyone or anything less and he'd simply be unimpressed, you are the only one that can make him feel true awe

When he was bound by the mortals to Mount Targon, the hardest thing was being away from you. You were so close yet so far, he knew you were doing all you can to help him but the damned mortals had managed to find a way to even outdo your powers

Finally freed by his mortal restraints, you were the one to calm Aurelion Sol down as he desperately wanted to seek revenge against the mortals, tearing Mount Targon – and possibly all of Runeterra – to shreds. You reminded him that that was not true balance, and that the both of you were above the level of mortals, and so he should not act as violently as them

You have become the peace to his chaos as the both of you find the balance in making Runeterra become a place of peace once again, and to strip the mortals of their godly powers

Pantheon

At first the two of you did not get along in the slightest. Pantheon had sworn war on all that he considered too powerful for their own good, be it Darkin, Ascended or Aspect. And now he comes into contact with a god? You must've been asking for whatever the immortal equivalent of a death wish is

Your first meeting was one meant for the history books. A mere human standing up against a deity, with nothing but the will to fight guiding him. He fought you again and again, refusing to budge. Every fight he learnt more about your abilities, how powerful and immortal you were

Everything came to a head when he finally challenged you with the call, “Kill me, if you are truly such a god!” But you simply refused, saying it was not your business to disrupt the natural order. It was then Pantheon realised his drive for revenge was not meant for you. You may have the power to destroy, but you had the power to create. You maintained balance, much like him

He surrendered, kneeling at your feet. He then swore that he would fight in your best interests, to maintain balance of the universe. In reality, it didn't change his goals; the Darkin, Ascended and Aspects were what disrupted Runeterra and sending it to ruins, they were the ones that disrupted balance but his purpose still felt much greater now. It was not petty revenge, but to aid a deity

It took a decent amount of time time until Pantheon admitted his love for you. He believed it would be foolish for a literal god to value him any more than an asset, an ally or friend at best. But when you passingly said that he was special to you, Pantheon did the most daunting a soldier ever could. He confessed to you and you accepted

Pantheon's heart soars whenever you call him, “My champion”. It is an honour to represent and act on behalf of a god as nurturing and good natured as you. He has sworn in his heart to be by your side for all of eternity, to offer all his services and anything he can do to help aid in your quest of balancing the universe

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mellifluousmalfoy · 4 years ago

Text

violet. // fred weasley x reader.

i’m so so so sorry this took so long, i’ve had the absolute worst case of writer’s block and it’s taking me decades to sift through these requests!! thank you so much for requesting and i apologise for taking years to write this @helloallthethingsilove <33

warning(s): cuss words, and the tiniest pinch of angst i swear.

word count; 3.5k

okay, maybe this is a slight spin-off to flower curse, but you don’t have to read it to read this.

in which you share the same injuries with your soulmate.

“Calm down, [L/N],”

“Don’t tell me to calm down! He’s a downright git is what he is.” I was fuming.

“Who does he think he is to just up and leave me here? I mean, after everything we’ve been through together, I’d assume he’d had said something to me, don’t you agree?” My dorm mates simply rolled their eyes. According to the letter my boyfriend had left me, this outburst was completely spontaneous.

Spontaneous my arse. I had watched him sneak off with his brother and best friend, whispering for the past week or two. He had every chance to tell me yet now he’s run off, only left me a letter with his reasoning.

Lee, poor Lee, had heard the bitter half of my wrath, promising me he would try his best to get hold of my idiot of a boyfriend. Heck, I could just feel they were experimenting with their newest products to come because I was sporting a yellow bruise on the side of my thigh and it was growing immensely painful.

Fred Weasley, you’re going to suffer for this.

Merlin, the thought of him was bringing tears to my eyes. This was the Yule Ball all over again. The git had ditched me that night, but he came back. He always did come back. The fear bloomed in my stomach knowing that this time, this time he wouldn’t be coming back. He said so in his letter, he wouldn’t be returning so as long as that cow of a professor was still here.

I huffed, standing to leave the common room. Being Fred Weasley’s soulmate was a big joke that Merlin or whoever was playing on me, yet it brought to me my best memories. My stomach sank, he was gone.

I bit back the tears that threatened to escape and muttered an excuse to my dorm mates before turning to leave, praying they wouldn’t follow me because I knew they were worried for me. I grumbled to myself as I left the common room, weaving through the halls towards the library.

I sighed contently when I saw the library was rather empty. I tore my bag off my shoulder and settled down into a desk. My arse of a boyfriend may have left, but I still had important exams that would determine my life to complete.

Hogsmeade was busy as always, bustling with students in third year and up, some on dates, some stuck to the side of their friends. I looked around the streets, it was slowly getting warmer as summer approached and I was thanking the heavens for that. I tried to spot the bright red head of hair that was apparently waiting for me.

Lee had managed to get a hold of his best friend and arranged for us to meet in Hogsmeade.

Walking through the excited sea of students, I tried to manoeuvre through the crowd when I spotted an oh so familiar head of hair. I picked up my pace and headed towards the tall gangly male.

He caught sight of me struggling through the crowd and threw me the cheekiest smile he could muster, only to be met with a glare.

Once I got through the crowd, I basically stomped towards the idiot. He held his arms open, expecting a hug only to be met with a hit to his stomach, which would cause both of us to most definitely sport a good bruise.

He winced at the impact and groaned, “What was that for?”

I simply glared at him and straightened my back, staring down at his hunched figure, “Is that really what you’re asking me, you idiot?”

He straightened up at my tone and knew he was definitely in trouble, “Look,” he paused, shifting uncomfortably in his jacket, “I’m sorry, it really was-”

“Cut the spontaneous bullshit, Weasley.” He frowned at my cold tone and I tried my best not to cry. I may have sounded brave now, but I was seconds from crying. I held my breath as I tried my best not to sound vulnerable, “Why couldn’t you have told me?”

I wanted to curse myself for sounding so small, and his frown softened. He removed his gaze from the floor to meet my sad eyes, and I could see the guilt filling his eyes, “I didn’t expect you to be this upset.”

“Then what did you expect, Fred?” He seemed to relax at my use of his first name and took a hesitant step toward me, “How would you feel if I just upped and left with only a letter as an explanation? I still don’t see why you didn’t tell me, so I could have prepared myself a bit better for the time you did leave.” I nibbled on my bottom lip, a stray tear gliding down my cheek which I quickly wiped with the sleeve of my jumper.

I shook my head when he went to take another step towards me, continuing to speak my innermost demons, “If this is a thing about trust-”

“Don’t be daft,” he was quick to cut me off, and I knew my words were wrong, but feelings took over my brain and I couldn’t stop myself.

“For me, it is Fred. This terrifies me, and you can’t blame me for thinking you would do this once we are finished with school.”

“This is different, I have a reason to leave. You know that.” His voice was stern, different from the silly tone he held before, and his eyes were cold.

“Do I?” The question rang in the air and the tears never seemed to stop coming, “Maybe this isn’t for the best. Maybe we-”

“No, you cannot do this. Not now.” He shook his head, his stern tone replaced by confusion. His eyes were begging me, begging for the truth. He knew I was lying to not only him, but myself.

“Fred, I can’t trust you.” It was a lie. I trusted this man with my life yet I continued to lie to him. He knew I was lying to him, it was my turn to beg. Beg for him to tell me I’m silly and to stop lying, to save our relationship. But he only nodded.

“Sure, okay then.”

“A break.” I left the statement out in the air. I wanted to slap myself across the face, to scream at myself and to ask what exactly I was doing, to try and knock some sense into myself. Yet, I continued to push myself away from the man I wanted and needed most. And he let me.

“If things work out, we’ll meet again someday,”

“And if they don’t?”

I didn’t answer his question, the answer was something that I was terrified of. Losing Fred was something that scared me beyond comprehension, yet here I was, making my worst fears come true.

“Just forget about it, Fred.”

“And just what should I forget about?” I wanted to physically stop myself from speaking, stop myself from hurting this man anymore. I wanted to snap out of it because the hurt in his voice, it wasn’t worth all of this pain. The tears that seemed to fill his eyes wasn’t worth all this, yet I continued.

“Us.”

I wanted him to call me stupid like he always did, to pull me by my elbow and hold me against his chest like he always did. I hated myself for hurting him, it was the last thing I had wanted to do. My mouth wouldn’t stop running, completely ignoring the conversations I played in my head the night before, the ones where I would hug him and tell him I missed him, the ones where I’d jab him on the shoulder and he would hug me and apologise, but instead I was a complete idiot.

My tears wouldn’t stop when I turned to leave, and they only seemed to increase when I knew he wouldn’t run after me. I pushed him far enough away from me that he wouldn’t run after me, and I hated myself beyond belief for it.

A year or so later.

Summer was hitting hard surprisingly.

Summer in the UK never seemed to be hot, but this year it was striking down, particularly in my tiny area of England. Although, summer never seemed to be a fun time, especially if Fred was no longer in the mix. Heck, even my family was upset we were no longer together, they owed him my life in so many ways.

Ever since the summer before our sixth year, he was a regular visitor in our house, so much so my parents had let him stay on more than one occasion. My mother always seemed to make the wedding jokes, but the underlying tone made it obvious she was far from joking.

Merlin, I missed him so bloody much.

Graduating Hogwarts was difficult. All the years spent there were now becoming insignificant, the gossips in our houses were barely thought about now. Some say a burden is lifted from your shoulders after graduating, but the burden of being an adult, finding a job and eventually moving out of my family home was heavier than school could ever be.

Surprisingly, the bruises seemed to decrease over time, and it seems as though the experimentation period had been long done, and seeing a glimpse of their shop whenever I went to work, I knew they had achieved their lifelong goal.

Working as a wandmaker had always been my dream, and I only ever confided in one person, and now he wanted nothing to do with me. Garrick Ollivander had agreed to let me be his apprentice and I had been working with him until the store was in ruins mere days ago. Working under such an incredible craftsman was more than I could ever ask for, (perhaps I had to thank my father’s status for that), but I couldn’t find it in myself to be excited, relieved that I had my life set out for me.

Something was itching in the back of my mind. The letter Dumbledore had given me days before his death remained unopened on my bedside table, and I tried to convinced myself it wasn’t important. But Dumbledore himself had handed me the letter, how could it not be important.

It’s been months since I was given the letter yet it still remained untouched.

I grumbled, cursing myself for not having any more restraint, and I walked back into my house and upstairs into my room. The letter was glaring at me, the red wax begging to be opened.

I hesitated for a moment before approaching my bedside table, ripping the letter open before I could second think about the situation.

My stomach flipped at the contents of the letter, Dumbledore had asked me to join the Order of The Phoenix, guessing I already knew about the elite group, and I did. Fred always told me everything- well he used to. Of course the man knew I wouldn’t open the letter until the last moment, because the date of the meeting and the date he had given me the letter were aeons apart, yet he knew.

The date of the meeting was etched right in the centre, and I knew this was it. The someday I had mentioned to Fred, and if he was willing to have me again, I was willing to give my all to him.

I second checked my bags, it seemed that I needed more than just an overnight bag from what Dumbledore had said in the letter, and I packed as much. I made sure I had my wand and any other important things before stepping into my fireplace, reading out the name of the place Dumbledore had written in the letter and threw the floo powder, letting the flames engulf me.

I was met by a warm living room and a Mrs Weasley who seemed to be fluffing the pillow before she snapped around and welcomed me into her arms. I smiled into the hug she gave me and greeted her, “It’s lovely to see you too, Mrs Weasley. But I would love to move my bags if I could please,”

“Oh! I’m sorry dear! Let me get out your way. Don’t be ridiculous, one of the boys will take it off your hands.” And then she bellowed out the boys’ names in the loudest voice she could muster before turning back to me with her signature smile, “Tea? Coffee, dear?”

“No, thank you. All I really want is to sit down for a bit if that’s alright.” I was exhausted, I hardly slept the night before because all I could think about was Fred. Ron sneaked around his mother to grab my bags off my hands and disappeared into the doorway he came through, only giving me an awkward smile as he did so.

“Yes, yes settle down, love. I’ll show you to the kitchen, ‘S where the rest of the Order are.” I could tell the older witch was itching to ask me something from the way she kept glancing at me as we walked down the long hall to the kitchen, “Dumbledore did say you would come around, we’ve been waiting for you for years, dear.”

I wasn’t surprised as to what she said to me, I knew Dumbledore had known I would come around later from the date in the later, I was more shocked at the fact she had said ‘we’, who else had been waiting for me?

The Order was bustling full of Weasleys, they were everywhere, and I was quite surprised to see Bill here. I had met Bill at one of the few Christmases he had come home, and it seemed like he never came home, not as much as Charlie at least.

I looked around the room expectantly, hoping to see Fred amongst the crowd but came up with nothing, only meeting the awkward eyes of George, who oddly seemed apologetic. Merlin, why couldn’t he dislike me? I broke his brother’s heart along with my own.

I sat down into the seat Molly had pulled out for me and suppressed a groan as I settled into the comfortable chair. The room seemed to grow quiet, some staring at the door, some staring at me. I knew he was here now and I tried to fight the urge to glance at the door yet it was useless.

I looked at him and it seemed he only got more handsome over the two years I hadn’t seen him. He no longer had those boyish features, only boyish charms. His face seemed more sculpted and he looked more built. Merlin, how could I have ever left this man.

I held the edge of my seat in my hand, tight enough for my knuckles to turn white. His brown eyes met mine, and I had expected them to be cold but this was different. He seemed completely isolated as his eyes met mine, the smile that was on his face was fading now.

Before I could even understand what happened, he was dragging me by the wrist down the halls, through doors until we settled at what seemed to be his room.

“What are you doing here?” His hand had never let go of my wrist and I was more than focused on it. I had missed his touch so much that this gave me multiple serotonin boosts at once, electricity was radiating off his hold and it was all I could focus on.

“Dumbledore invited me,” I could barely mutter the three words as I looked into his eyes. His walls were so high I couldn’t break them down if I tried, and I knew they had to come down willingly or this would all be lost.

“It’s been so long,” His words held so much weight. He was aware, we were both aware that we had both done some serious growing up which we needed, and maybe we didn’t know each other so well anymore.

“I missed you.” My voice was barely above a whisper as I adverted my stare to the wooden floor below us. I couldn’t lie anymore, I didn’t want to lie to him anymore. I never wanted to tell a lie to him again because it always came with pain. My words stayed in the air in a way that I hated. Did he not miss me?

“Shit,” he muttered, pulling me by the wrist he still held and towards his chest, “I missed you too.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck and burrowed my face into his neck, and I knew, this was our someday. This was our time, we had grown as people and now we could go back to each other. We were no longer dumb 17-year-olds who thought they knew what they were doing, we were older and much wiser.

Fred sniffled into my hair and I realised the idiot was crying, but I couldn’t deny that I was too, “Is this our someday?”

His question came out as a whisper and I dug myself further into his jacket, “This is most definitely our someday, Freddie.”

Being with Fred during a war was almost impossible, yet we managed. Our houses were reconnected by floo and he frequented at my home once again, much to my parents’ pleasure.

The war. It was here now, it was inevitable yet I wanted to avoid it, to spend more time with Fred as selfish as it sounded.

The castle was now in ruins. The sanctuary of all the students was now crumbling.

I looked around the castle, ran through the wrecked halls trying to find Fred. We had both been assigned to two different parts of the castle to protect, yet I couldn’t stop myself from having to see him. Something was wrong, I could feel it.

The world felt as though it was slowing down as I deflected the spells dark wizards had been throwing from left and right, throwing back my own curses on the way.

My steps were getting slower over time, and as I neared his part of the castle I knew nothing was right in that moment. My ears were ringing, no longer being able to hear my surroundings.

I couldn’t hear Percy, but I could see he was screaming, crying. And it was over Fred’s body. The whole world seemed to cave in on me. This must have been some joke, a big joke the world was playing on me. There was no way in Merlin’s name he was gone. He couldn’t have been. He had promised me he would never leave me again.

My feet seemed to drag along the floor as I approached them. Percy, who heard my approach, snapped his head towards me, holding out his wand until he saw who it was. Merlin, the man was wrecked. I could barely breathe once I reached his side, “This must be some joke, Weasley.”

My voice was hoarse, my throat running dry as I tried my best to compose myself, “You promised, Fred! You promised you’d never leave my side without telling me! Even leaving a letter behind would mean much more than this.”

My heartbeat was banging against my ears, and I realised. What did this mean for the soulmate link? Death was knocking at my door, I could tell. All I had to do was open the bloody door.

I sunk to the floor crying, no longer being able to hold myself up. I was dying, and I wanted to. Percy remained silent as he watched the life drain from my face.

It happened so quickly. I hadn’t expected death to consume me so quick. The last picture in my mind before my body fell limp was his smile, the genuine one he held whenever he was happy, not that cheeky smirk, not that sheepish grin, but that big happy smile.

It was warm. I felt as though I was floating on a bed of clouds as I refused to open my eyes, to wake up from my sleep.

The sleep I had just woken up from was so good and I hadn’t felt this good after a sleep in what felt like years, and in all honesty that was probably true.

“Love, come on it’s time to wake up,”

“Five more minutes, Fred.” I yawned, turning away from his voice, digging my face into the blanket that was draped over me.

“You said that ten minutes ago, love.”

“And what about it?” I asked, turning my head back toward him. It seemed as though I was dreaming, surely he wasn’t truly here. And so I thought of this as a dream and conversed with him like I always did.

“I have to show you around, don’t I?” I could tell from his voice that he was smiling, and it made me want to return it. I finally opened my eyes and met his own warm brown ones, he seemed so real, “Good morning, lovely.”

“G’morning, Freddie.” The smile that itched at the corner of my mouth took over and I beamed up at him. I had never felt so happy to be in his presence, but what he said earlier rung in my ears, “What do you mean by showing me around?”

“Well,” he paused to press a kiss to my forehead, “it’s not every day you meet your soulmate in the afterlife.”

#harry potter #harry potter one shot #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter x y/n #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #harry potter x male reader #harry potter x gender neutral reader #fred weasley x male reader #fred weasley x gender neutral reader

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bubblegumbeech · 3 years ago

Text

The Librarian’s Trick

Day one Ectoberhaunt: Trick or Treat

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34213519

Wes was certain this Cassius guy was a ghost. He had to be. Humans didn’t live on the outskirts of town in large decrepit clock towers that Wes was pretty sure didn’t exist last week .

Humans didn’t have red eyes and white hair (unless they had a condition called Albinoism, Wes had looked it up. But Albinoism also meant they had no melanin anywhere and Cassius Dark was decidedly tan in an admittedly attractive but decidedly not Albino kind of way)

Humans didn’t have fangs when they smiled but normal teeth whenever Wes tried to point out that He had FANGS. They were right there!!!

Humans didn’t spend all their time either with Danny Fenton (who was Also very much a ghost!! Which should be in the list of proof but no one believes it so it’s seperate but still!) or mysteriously absent.

And humans didn’t seem to know everything all the time but talk like a bad astrology website.

So Wes was going to find a way to prove it.

His first try had him sneaking a “ghost translator” he didn’t remember the stupid name Fenton’s dad called it when he bought it with his allowance, into the library where Cassius Dark supposedly worked.

Supposedly, because while he could be found there, Wes had never actually seen him doing anything other than reading. And it was never a book Wes recognized, like, he wasn’t reading the Twilight series or anything. The last book Wes saw had been a large ancient looking tome written in a language Wes didn’t recognize. But Everytime he tried (subtly! He was super nonchalant about it!) to take a picture it ended up blurry!! And No Kyle, it wasn’t because he was bad at taking photos .

But that didn’t matter because Wes had a different plan now. He was going to use the Fentons’ new version of their “ghost translator” thing, and see what happened. It was supposed to be both a translator and a truth decoder at the same time. So no matter what a ghost said, the device should say what they actually mean. Or something.

With Danny, a bunch of innocuous stuff went off around him, but people always hand waved it as faulty tech. Wes wasn’t sure that was the case, in fact he was positive it wasn’t. But if he could get something useful to build up from, that would be a good start. And every good reporter needed a start.

He stepped up to the Library’s front desk, where Cassius was sitting reading what was clearly a spell tome if the different summoning pentagrams in the open page Wes could see were anything to go by.

“Welcome Young Weston,” Cassius said, the hint of a smile hidden behind his red eyes as he closed his book. Wes could swear they were glowing slightly. Geez did this guy get his ‘how to pretend to be human’ classes from Fenton ?

… that would certainly explain why no one ever believed Wes, since that was a long beaten dead horse in his closet.

He, very discreetly, had the device hooked up to one of his earphones, which he kept in one of his ears like any normal less than perfectly mannered teenager as he asked Cassius Dark his questions.

“Excuse me sir? Do you work here?” he started with, it was a more or less innocuous question and one he actually wanted the answer to.

Cassius Dark smiled. “I do.”

My Job is all that was, is, and shall be. That which I set as my goal is beyond mortal comprehension and those I call master shall fall to my machinations. But yes, I get paid for sitting at this desk and answering questions sometimes. I am a ghost, fear me.

Wes tried not to sweat too obviously. What the fuck?

“Can you tell me where the journalism section is?” Wes decided to make a tactical retreat, at least his voice didn’t crack.

“Straight back for eight shelves and then turn right. It’s next to the Non-fiction books.”

I know what you’re looking for, I know why you are here. I know the exact time of your death and what will happen next. Your efforts amuse me though. I am a ghost, fear me.

What Wes did next was not exactly fleeing. But it wasn’t not fleeing either.

He’d have to try something else.

The next thing he wanted to try was a bit riskier. If you thought about it a certain way. But it also wasn’t if you thought about it the way Wes did.

He was going to use a phase-proof net.

Genius, because unlike the translator machine thing, it would actually stop the ghost from attacking Wes if it got angered. Which it would, probably, since Wes was throwing a net at it.

The plan was really simple though, he’d gotten a very large net, paid extra for the little aim thing, practiced half a billion times of his brothers before they went to the parents and got him grounded for a week, and then memorized the path Cassius Dark took in the mornings to go to his “job” at the library.

Right now he was hiding in one of the leafier trees, right above the path that Cassius always used, waiting.

And waiting.

And… waiting.

Honestly he was about to go home and was fairly certain this guy was going to be like, super late to work, when he finally appeared.

Wes wasted no time aiming, making sure the trajectory was absolutely perfect, and firing the net off. He was just about to jump in celebration, watching the net as it curled slightly around its target, but before it could hit and wrap around him, Cassius was suddenly not there.

Or he was, but just a little bit to the left, so that the net sailed harmlessly past.

Wes cursed.

The third one was fool proof. It had to be.

Which was why Wes was staring at a large conspiracy board, covered in paparazzi-esque shots of the librarian and random notes he’d taken, all connected with a dizzying amount of red string.

“Kyle, seriously. I need to figure out what kind of ghost he is or he’s always going to have the upper hand!!”

Kyle just rolled his eyes and continued playing his video game, as if he didn’t care that Wes had set up his very important planning and plotting in the middle of the living room so long as it didn’t interfere with his own plans.

“It has to be pretty powerful, he was able to dodge my net before it even touched him. And the translator thing clearly said ‘my goal is beyond comprehension’ or something,” Wes mused, “and he also said his job was like, everything?”

Wes checked his notes, “yeah, ‘all that is was and shall be’. What could he mean by that?”

His very annoying and clearly not taking this as seriously as he should brother just chuckled. “I don’t know Wes, maybe he can see the future?”

That… no. That’s way too OP. Just the thought of it sent a shiver down Wes’ spine. There was no way a ghost could see the future right?

Right?

He had to test this theory.

But how do you even test something like that?

“Kyle, how would you test if someone could see the future?”

“Throw something at the back of their head and see if they dodge?” He answered way too quickly.

Wes thought about it for a moment. “No, what if they just have really good reflexes?”

“Oh huh, I guess that could be true. No idea then.” He shrugged and Wes had to fight the urge to throw something at the back of his head.

Whatever. He had to make plans.

He’d tried just throwing things. It was risky, and kind of terrifying, but Kyle was right it was the first that came to mind.

But Cassius never dodged. He was always just, not where Wes thought he was. Or Wes had really bad aim, which he didn’t!!! He was a basketball ace!! He had great aim! And great situational awareness!!

So why couldn’t he hit Cassius Dark?

Obviously it was because he could see the future. And the smug smile he always had when he knew Wes was looking reminded him an awful lot of a certain other Phantom.

Ask him about his family.

Easy enough. Especially without the Fenton’s weird translator because that might have been a bit terrifying. And also this time he had back up.

He dragged Kyle by his sleeve into the library.

“Mr. Cassius!”

Cassius looked up from his book, removing the delicate reading glasses balanced on his nose. “Can I help you Mr. Weston?”

“Yes!” He smiled broadly, taking out a small notebook that he had used to take notes on the suspicious and ghoulish things going on around town until it was mostly shreds of paper. “I’m writing an OP ED on the town library, and would like to know more about the librarian. Can you answer a few personal questions?”

Kyle snorted and Wes had to elbow him in the side to get him to shut up. He was here as back up, not to ruin his plan.

“So,” he began, “is Cassius a family name?”

“No.”

Wes nodded. And then frowned. Did ghosts have families? Supposedly they were alive once right? At least that was the general idea, Wes thought.

“So what can you tell us about your parents? Like, what’s your father’s name?”

Cassius raised an eyebrow, and had a soft smile filled with good humor. Wes felt it hit him like a threat. What was this ghost hiding?

Well, other than the fact that he’s a ghost.

“I can’t tell you much I’m afraid. My mother is long gone and I never had a father.”

Kyle grimaced and elbowed Wes himself before saying, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“It’s no matter,” Cassius replied, still smiling, “I may yet see her again.”

Ah, so either she wasn’t dead or he’s convinced she became a ghost too. That made sense. It could be his unfinished business as they say among the paranormal hunters. At least, the not fight-y and crazy ones.

“So Dark was your mother’s name?” Wes asked, wondering if he could maybe find any records on her where he had failed to find them on Cassius himself.

The smile slid right off his face. Wes and Kyle both felt the subtle chill in the air as Cassius leaned back and looked off to the side, as if to glare at something that wasn’t there. “No, I’m afraid Dark is my ex-husband’s name.”

“Why keep it?” Kyle asked, completely ignoring the danger of the situation.

The smile came back, except this time instead of soft and barely there as if he were indulging a child, it was sharp and twisted. He chuckled at an inside joke no one else in the room would ever understand and then he said, “Well, it’s not like he has any use for it now.”

Wes paled. Had he killed his husband?!

After a hasty retreat from the library Wes treated Kyle to a milkshake and fries at the nasty burger just as he had promised. Payment for going along with his ‘weird ghost theories’.

But Wes couldn’t eat, he was too busy thinking. This one actually helped! He found information about the ghost’s previous life! He had a mother, but not a father, and had a husband.

With the current politics it was one of two options. Either he was from a previous culture that allowed men to marry each other, or he was a more recent ghost than Wes had been expecting. He had already taken out his laptop and was scrolling through obituaries with the surname Dark, trying to think if he knew any off the top of his head that might have been in town when they died.

Nothing particular came to mind.

Wes’ thinking was interrupted by a loud, obnoxious slurping noise from his brother. He shot him a glare, but Kyle didn’t react. Wasn’t even looking at him. Instead he was looking out the window and watching one of the daily ghost attacks with Phantom playing hero as always.

“You know, it’s kinda cool that they’re hiring actors to build the town’s lore like that,” he said, clearly ignoring the obvious evidence of ghosts right outside his window.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Wes groaned, rubbing at his eyes. He needed coffee or something, it was a shame the Nasty Burger only served sludge no sane person would drink.

Kyle finally looked away from the window, his eyes wide as if he was the one confused. “You know, how they got the librarian to say he was married to Pariah Dark? And then imply he’s the reason he’s a ghost?”

Wes felt like the seat underneath him had suddenly disappeared. “Where did you get That from?!”

“He said his ex-husband was named Dark! Pariah Dark’s Ghost Zone show is the first thing that comes to mind!” Kyle argued back. “Isn’t it?”

Holy shit this guy was married to the ghost king.

He thought back to the ominous answers he’d gotten that first day from the Fentons’ translator. Maybe he should leave this one alone.

Wes was at the library, studying quietly and absolutely avoiding the librarian. Not that he’d seen him today, but it didn’t hurt to keep his head down. With any luck the guy had a short memory and would forget Wes had been trying to find a way to out him to the town.

A portal ripped from the air in front of him, sending a static energy throughout the library and causing Wes’ hair to stand on end. It was a swirling purple, deeper and more… well more than most of the natural portals that Wes had seen appear around town.

He wanted to scream, but years of living in Amity Park had fully trained that out of him. Screaming was the number one way to get a ghost locked on you as their first target. Especially if you were there when the portal opened.

Before Wes could even think to duck under the table he was using a figure stepped out of the portal, poised and composed. He had a deep purple hood that seemed to swirl with the fabric of galaxies and a large ornate clock embedded into his chest. His skin was a rich blue and he had glowing red eyes.

Wes recognized him immediately.

“Oh, hello Mr. Weston, is there something I can help you with?” Cassius Dark asked.

#Danny Phantom #ectoberhaunt 2021 #clockwork dp #wes weston dp #background dark ages #Bee's writing #fanfiction

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swan-of-sunrise · 3 years ago

Text

Specs and the Flyboy (Chapter Nineteen-Part Three)

Summary: (Y/N), Jack and their friends finally face off against Leviathan and the Secret Empire.

Pairing: Jack Thompson X Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Ya girl wrote this while dealing with sleep deprivation, cramps and the after effects of the vaccine, so I hope it’s good ‘cause at this point I can’t even tell lol Thank you all so much for reading! I hope that you enjoy!

Chapter Nineteen (Part III) Leviathan’s Weapons Facility, Lithuanian Soviet Socialist Republic (Previous Chapter)

While the two of them were ushered down the staircase that led into the crate-filled warehouse by Michael and Dottie, (Y/N)’s mind raced as she struggled to think of a way out of their current conundrum. I’ve been in plenty of tough scrapes before but even I’ll admit that this one’s the toughest one yet, she thought to herself, her eyes rapidly scanning the large room; there were large, frost-covered windows towards the ceiling, several boarded-up skylights and the two metal doors she spotted were both guarded by Leviathan soldiers. By the time they reached the base of the stairs, (Y/N) had counted a total of twenty armed enemy operatives – seventeen Leviathan guards, Attwell, Underwood and Michael Carter – and from the brief glimpse she’d gotten of their friends hidden behind a stack of crates, it looked as though both Pinkerton and Sawyer were badly injured and the others were trying to bandage their blood-soaked wounds. So, we’re out-gunned and out-numbered, she concluded with a sinking feeling as she bit her lip in worry.

“So, Chief Thompson did survive his daring escape!” Attwell grinned, walking out into the empty space amidst the crates and standing before the two of them. “Truth be told, I was hoping that we’d meet again; I detest leaving loose ends, and killing the SSR’s golden boy once and for all would’ve been a genuine pleasure.”

Beside (Y/N), Jack’s shoulders tensed but he tilted his head to the side in mock contemplation. “What, you couldn’t do it without your Leviathan goons backing you up? What a real tough guy.”

Attwell’s fist quickly connected with Jack’s stomach and when he doubled over in pain, the man struck him across the face and sent him sprawling to the ground. “Stop it!” (Y/N) started towards her partner but the sudden feeling of a pistol barrel against the back of her neck stopped her cold; tearing her eyes away from Jack, she met Attwell’s gaze and struggled to keep her voice steady as she spoke, “He’s not the one who’s screwing up your deal with Leviathan, I am.”

“Of course, of course, the infamous codebreaker.” Attwell stepped closer but she held her ground, raising her chin in defiance and refusing to look away despite how uncomfortable his stare made her feel. After a tension-filled moment, his face broke out into a stomach-churning smirk. “It’s a shame that such promising talent’s being squandered by the SSR, by those who dismiss and condescend you at every turn. I was very much like you before joining Hydra; I was overshadowed at Cambridge by my perfect older brother and his two brilliant flatmates; while William, Michael and Adam flourished in their respective fields of study, I floundered and was subsequently expelled but as luck would have it, I was approached by Hydra and offered a chance to unlock my true potential; and here I stand before you, Agent (Y/L/N), to offer you that very-same chance. With the new Leviathan, your immeasurable skills would not only be recognized but they’d also be celebrated. You and Michael could work side-by-side in our efforts to break through as the world’s leading superpower and once we achieve our goal of fully weaponizing Zodiac, Agent (Y/L/N), you’ll have everything you’ve ever truly desired.”

Out of the corner of her eye, (Y/N) noticed Jack’s hand resting on his waist and while Attwell talked, her partner’s index finger had tapped away. It only took her seconds to realize he was sending out a message in Morse Code on the walkie-talkie still clipped onto his belt and once she did, she knew exactly what she needed to do.

“You know, it’s a good thing you’re decent at codebreaking, Specs, ‘cause you’d make a pretty shit spy. You fidget too much.”

If Jack can think up an off-the-cuff plan to get us out of this mess then I can buy us all a little time by being a good spy, she thought with resolve just as Attwell finished up his speech. Taking a page out of her partner’s book, (Y/N) raised an incredulous brow at the man as the corner of her mouth curled into a humorless smile. “There was a time when I would’ve given just about anything for people to recognize me and my skills, to appreciate just how hard I’ve worked to get where I am today. But then I grew up and realized that the only person whose appreciation I needed was my own. Mr. Attwell, I don’t need to be celebrated or appreciated by anyone, but especially not by a pathetic imitation of the Red Skull.”

The man’s expression instantly grew cold at the comparison. “Then it would seem that you’re of no use to us.” His gaze shifted to look at whoever was holding her at gunpoint and he nodded. “Shoot her, Michael.”

“Stop!” All of them looked over just as Peggy jumped out from behind their makeshift barricade with her rifle pointed directly at Attwell. “I’ll give you the key.”

“Peggy, no!” The barrel of the pistol pressed harder into (Y/N)’s neck and she winced in pain. However, her horror was quickly replaced with dawning comprehension when Peggy flashed her a pointed look before briefly glancing in Jack’s direction. She knows about whatever Jack’s planning, she silently realized, playing along with her old friend’s ruse by rearranging her features into a look of righteous indignation.

Moving to stand beside Attwell, Dottie raised the hand that wasn’t holding her rifle and gave the younger woman a small wave. “Hiya, Peggy. You know, you really should’ve listened to me back in New York; I told you there were currencies in the world stronger than money. I practically spelled all of this out for you! But the great Peggy Carter couldn’t figure it all out on her own, so she needed the help of…” Dottie turned to (Y/N) with a frown. “What’re those revolting nicknames you call each-? Oh, never mind, I don’t want to know.” Turning back to Peggy, the spy shrugged. “Well, I suppose not everyone’s perfect, are they?”

“No, they’re certainly not.” Attwell agreed, gesturing with his head for Peggy to lower her weapon and holding out his hand once she’d set it on the ground. “No tricks, Agent Carter. The key, and you and your friends are free to go; it appears that at least one of them is in need of medical attention, so I’d be quick about it if I were you.” When Peggy’s eyes flicked over to where Michael was standing behind (Y/N), Attwell chuckled darkly and shook his head. “No, I don’t think dear old Michael’s going anywhere but by all means, Agent, go ahead and ask him if you don’t believe me.”

For the first time since they were ushered into the warehouse, Peggy looked directly at her older brother. Her hardened expression slipped and for the briefest of moments, (Y/N) recognized the vulnerable young woman she’d known all those years ago at Bletchley Park who mourned her beloved brother’s death. While her lower lip trembled, Peggy finally addressed Michael. “Not too long ago, I had a dream about you and you told me that you’d be right alongside me if you could. I didn’t believe it was possible, even when (Y/N) and Jack told me it was, but now we have a second chance at being a family again. Michael, you can finally come home.” She blinked away her tears and gave him the ghost of an encouraging smile. “Please, Michael, come home with me.”

(Y/N) could feel the pressure on her neck ease up but just as she was beginning to think that Peggy had succeeded in getting through to him, Michael coolly replied, “This is my family, Agent, the only family I have in this world.”

Peggy’s face crumpled as Attwell laughed in amusement. “I told you so! Now, the key for your friends.”

God, I hope that whatever Jack’s planning happens sooner rather than later, (Y/N) silently prayed, sucking in a breath while the younger woman approached Attwell. Once Peggy reached into her pocket and withdrew the familiar Arena Club pin, the man looked over at Dottie and gave her a nod; the spy slung the strap of her rifle over her shoulder and made her way over to one of the many wooden crates near them, kicking the lid off of it and lifting a small metal box out of the loose excelsior. The box looked innocent enough but as Dottie walked it over to Attwell, (Y/N)’s blood ran cold and she knew that the moment Peggy handed over that key, Leviathan would possess one of the world’s deadliest weapons and they’ll have lost.

“Get up, Chief Thompson,” Michael barked and while Jack got to his feet, (Y/N) was roughly pushed towards him. “And you, stand over there with him.”

(Y/N) did as he said, standing beside Jack and keeping her eyes on the scene unfolding before them as she murmured, “You okay?”

“Yeah, you?”

“Peachy-keen.” She watched Dottie hand the metal box over to Attwell, her anxiety steadily building within her while he examined the box’s intricate lock. “Are you going to fill me in on the plan or what?”

The corner of Jack’s mouth curled upwards and he quietly replied, “Patience is a virtue, Specs, just be ready for it.”

“Be ready for wha-?”

Just then as Peggy’s hand stretched out to give Attwell the Arena Club pin, the warehouse wall opposite them exploded. Rubble and splintered pieces of crates flew through the air but before (Y/N) could fully react, gunfire broke out all around them. Amidst the chaos, Jack latched onto (Y/N)’s hand and ran, yanking her behind the nearest tower of crates as bullets whizzed past their heads; both of them crouched on the ground and peeked around the wooden crates, and her eyes widened in amazement at what she saw. The explosion that had knocked down part of the warehouse wall hadn’t been an explosion at all but rather one of the Howlies’ trucks and as (Y/N) watched, Daniel and Henry used the truck’s doors as barriers while they exchanged fire with the Leviathan guards. Moments later, she spotted Peggy dart out from one of the aisles to join her boyfriend behind the open truck door.

“Wa-Hoo!”

Dugan’s deafening war cry from across the warehouse was punctuated by a fresh barrage of gunfire, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but revel at the familiarity of it all; her eyes were suddenly drawn to two men sprinting down the aisle towards her and Jack, and it took her a tense moment to recognize them through all the chaos.

“There you guys are!” Howard exclaimed before ducking down beside them, followed closely by an anxious-looking Edwin Jarvis. Reaching into the satchel that was slung over his shoulders, the inventor withdrew two handguns and offered the weapons to them. “You know, you two’ve got a real habit of gettin’ into trouble…”

Jack rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Says the man who was mind-controlled into almost gassing all of New York last year.” Springing up, he fired off several shots before ducking back down. “How’re we looking, Jarvis?”

“Well, Chief Sousa’s dramatic entrance provided enough of a distraction for Mr. Fieldman to escort Mr. Pinkerton and Mr. Sawyer out the front; their wounds aren’t life-threatening, but Mr. Fieldman promised he’d help treat them once they reach the clearing.” The butler set another satchel on the ground in front of them. “And we’ve brought more guns and ammunition, as per your request.”

“You know, Thompson, you said in your message that you needed a big diversion, but that whole entrance was my idea; I actually took it from one of my studio’s newest scripts, where a gangster steals-”

“Of course, Mr. Stark, your genius knows no bounds.” Edwin hurriedly interrupted the inventor’s rambling, glancing over at (Y/N) with his brow furrowed in worry. “And have you broken Mr. Carter out of his brainwashing? Where is he?”

Looking around the edge of the crate, (Y/N)’s heart dropped when noticed that several important people were missing from the gunfight. “Where the hell did they go, Jack?”

Jack craned his neck to see what she was looking at and swore loudly. “Shit, I-wait, they’re on the stairs!” By the time (Y/N) spotted them, Attwell, Dottie and Michael had reached the top of the stairs and had disappeared around the corner. “Jarvis, stay here with Stark and cover us, then go help the others.” Edwin nodded and her partner turned towards her, his blue eyes scanning her face for any signs of trepidation as he asked, “Are you ready, Specs?”

“As I’ll ever be,” (Y/N) pulled an extra ammunition magazine out of the satchel and tucked it into her pocket before giving Jack a determined nod. “Let’s finish this once and for all, Flyboy.”

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

Compared to the chaotic warehouse they’d come from, the rest of the facility was eerily silent and it wasn’t at-all difficult to follow the footsteps of the fleeing trio through the deserted hallways.

“You know that this is probably a trap, right?”

“Naturally.”

“Good. Just wanted to make sure that we’re both on the same page.”

Before (Y/N) could get another word in, a figure she soon recognized as Dottie dropped down from above them and began attacking; the spy kicked the guns out of their hands, ramming her knee into (Y/N)’s stomach and knocking the wind out of her before spinning and using her leg to slam Jack into the wall beside them. (Y/N) took advantage of Dottie’s momentary distraction and aimed a side-kick at her thigh, but the spy merely turned her sharp fall into a somersault; she stood and threw a punch that (Y/N) was quick to duck, and then she grabbed the spy’s extended arm with the intent of wrenching it behind her back. Dottie predicted the move, yanking her arm free only to wrap her hand around her throat and roughly shove her back against the wall.

The back of (Y/N)’s head erupted into a sharp pain while Dottie flashed her a condescending smile. “I already told you, you’re too easy! It’s almost pathetic to see you try so hard to be as good as Peggy.”

“Don’t need to be as good as Peggy,” (Y/N) choked out as the fingers around her throat tightened. “Just…just good enough to keep you distracted.”

Dottie frowned in confusion and that’s when Jack slammed the butt of his gun against the back of her head. The spy tumbled to the ground in an unconscious heap and (Y/N) doubled over, her hands firmly clutching her knees as she coughed and gasped for air. “(Y/N), you okay?” She nodded and allowed Jack to take hold of her shoulders, his soothing encouragements helping her finally regain her breath; once he was sure that she was fine, her partner handed over her dropped gun and rested his hand against the small of her back to urge her forward. “C’mon, let’s go…”

They left the motionless spy behind and continued down the hallway, turning the corner and finding themselves at the entrance of a dimly-lit boiler room. Beside (Y/N), Jack shuddered and she recalled the story he’d told her of the mission he and Peggy had conducted to investigate one of Leviathan’s training facilities; she nudged him with her elbow and gave him a brief smile, wishing that she could offer him more comfort but not wanting to distract them both from their mission. Jack nodded as if to say he was fine, but his shoulders remained tense while he silently gestured for her to go left into the room while he went right.

(Y/N) crept behind the various boilers and pipes, careful not to slip on the slick ground as she did. If I end up surviving all this, I think I’m going to sleep for a week straight, she thought to herself, her heart rate steadily increasing with each step she took. While she edged herself around another heavy piece of industrial furnacing, she found herself trying to think of how to break Michael out of his mind-control long enough to save him; Jack insisted that cognitive re-calibration was the only way but after being present for Peggy and Michael’s reunion, she wondered if reminding him of his past or even recent actions would also do the trick. But a sharp skid noise right behind her made her forget her train of thought and turn, dodging the knife just in time.

“You really should’ve taken my offer, Agent (Y/L/N),” Attwell spat out, slashing at her with the knife again and forcing her to stumble back into the center aisle of the boiler room; the blade sliced against her forearm and she stifled her cry of pain, dropping her gun and leaping out of the way as he aimed for her again. “Soon, you and your foolish friends will be dead and Leviathan will have more power than you could possibly imagine!”

“Don’t you ever get tired of hearing your own damn voice?” (Y/N) retorted, her hand shooting out and twisting the red-colored knob beside them; a pipe next to Attwell spewed out pressurized steam and he let out a shriek of pain as the steam enveloped the right side of his face. Not wanting to stick around, she turned and sprinted further into the vast room, a part of her hoping that she’d bought herself enough time to save Michael. Skidding around a corner, she was immediately met with the sight of Jack and Michael engaged in a vicious fight on the floor; her partner was trying to wrestle something out of the other man’s closed fist, but he was so preoccupied with his task that he didn’t see Michael’s other hand brush the handle of a nearby gun. (Y/N) kicked the gun away from him, pinning his shoulder to the ground with her knee and spoke the first thing that came to mind. “Visions, light, cheered, night, dream!”

As she finished reciting the five words he’d used to encode his final message to Peggy, something shifted in Michael’s dark eyes and his clenched fist relaxed, allowing Jack to snatch the Arena Club pin from him. Before any of them could say or do anything more, a fiery ache erupted along her shoulder blade and she cried out in pain as she pitched forward. “(Y/N)!” Jack looped his arms underneath hers and dragged her over to half-lean against a pipe; her vision was partially clouded by the pain, but she could still make out the bloody knife he’d just pulled out of her upper back and tossed onto the ground beside them. “No, no, don’t look at that, just keep your eyes on me!” He pressed his trembling hand tight against the wound and when she nearly whimpered, he held the side of her face with the other and frantically nodded, his blue eyes steadily filling with panic that he struggled to control. “I-I know it hurts, baby, but I have to keep pressure on it; it’s not very deep, but I can’t have you fainting right now so keep your eyes on me, c’mon-”

“How touching,” Both of them looked up to see Attwell and Michael standing before them, the former with a self-satisfied smirk on his half-seared face and the latter staring stonily down at them. “Let’s make a new deal, Chief Thompson: Give me the key, and I won’t let Agent (Y/L/N) slowly bleed out on the floor of this boiler room.”

“Bastard.” Jack spat back, but his hand left (Y/N)’s face long enough to retrieve the Arena Club pin from his pocket and throw it into Attwell’s waiting hand. “You better start lookin’ over your shoulder now, Attwell, ‘cause I won’t rest until I kill you myself.”

Attwell shrugged and ran his fingers over the pin, twisting it sharply to convert it into a key. “Such fiery attitude in the face of doom was precisely why I was looking forward to killing you. But then I realized, forcing a man like you to live with your mistakes is a far worse punishment than death; and to make this victory sweeter, I plan on unlocking Zodiac in front of you both, so you can see just how spectacularly you failed yourselves, your agency and your country.” He turned to Michael with his brow raised in expectation. “Are you ready to make history, old chap?”

Michael nodded. “Of course…” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the metal box containing Zodiac; (Y/N) tried getting up, unwilling to sit back and let Leviathan win, but Jack’s strong arms held her in place against him. When she met his gaze, he gave her a barely-discernible head shake and with her jaw clenched tight, she watched Attwell push the key into the lock and turn it clockwise; the lid popped open and the man breathed a sigh of relief, reaching into the slightly-smoking box and holding an electric-blue colored vial with strange etchings carved into the glass.

“Beautiful, isn’t it? So much potential for war and destruction, and it fits within the palm of my hand.” Attwell looked up at Michael and continued, “My brother never appreciated such things, you know. He never truly appreciated you, either; once you were found out to be a deep-cover spy for the SOE, I saw an opportunity to mold you into the person you were always meant to be. Do you remember the first thing I told you after you came out of Hydra’s operating room?”

Michael’s hardened expression faltered, almost as if he was struggling to control his actions, and in an instant, he drew his gun and shot Attwell directly in the chest. There were tears in his eyes as he finally replied, “‘Michael, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.’”

The box and the vial slipped out of the dying man’s hands and as he began to sway dangerously on his feet, (Y/N) lunged forward and caught both in her hands before they could hit the ground. While Attwell’s lifeless body collapsed to the ground in a heap, she and Jack hurriedly placed the deadly Zodiac back into the box and slammed the lid closed; she let out a shaky breath, unable to grasp everything that had just happened. Michael dropped to his knees, tossing his gun to the side and rubbing his head with one hand; still mindful of her now-oozing wound, Jack held her a little closer as they both warily watched the unsteady man turn away from Attwell’s body to look at them. “I-It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Agent (Y/L/N). I’m Michael Carter, SOE.”

A smile slowly stretched across (Y/N)’s face and a sense of relief was beginning to wash over her as a familiar voice called throughout the boiler room. “(Y/N)? Jack?”

“We’re back here, (Y/N) needs some medical attention but we’re okay!” Jack called back, meeting (Y/N)’s gaze and flashing her a lopsided grin. “You’re gonna be fine, Specs, you hear me?” With a relieved chuckle, Jack leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her sweat-covered brow before resting his cheek on the top of her head. “We’re all gonna be fine.”

“Hey!” The first person who rounded the corner was Daniel, whose gun was already at the ready when he pointed it at Michael. “Hey, get the hell away from them!”

Jack held out a placating hand to the chief. “Easy, Danny Boy, he’s good right now; he’s the one who killed Attwell.”

Lowering his gun, Daniel limped over to where they sat against the pipe and knelt down as best he could to examine her knife wound. “Looks like the knife missed everything important, thank goodness. What the hell happened down here?”

Jack detailed everything they’d dealt with after hurrying out of the warehouse as their friends joined them; Edwin began treating her various wounds with Henry’s assistance, Howard carefully stowed the box containing Zodiac and its key into a satchel and Dugan worked on locating a weak point in the wall to blow a quick exit for them. There was a flurry of voices and activity surrounding (Y/N), but all her attention was on Peggy and Michael; they were talking to each other in low tones, Michael looking heartbreakingly unsure and Peggy trying her hardest not to cry, until they both surged forward and hugged one another. For the second time that day, (Y/N) was reminded of Freddie but while she watched the Carter siblings finally reunite, she didn’t feel sadness or envy, but rather pride. She was proud of herself, for having helped stop Leviathan’s plans and for having made-do on her promise to reunite her oldest and dearest friend with her beloved brother. If anyone deserves a second chance at happiness it’s those two, she thought to herself, taking a deep breath and resting her head against Jack’s strong shoulder.

They did it.

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

A/N: Only one more chapter left!! Like I said, idk how I feel about this chapter as a whole so I’m sorry if there’s mistakes/it’s bad, but next week’s is gonna be great! Thank you guys so much for reading! If you haven’t checked it out yet, I created a Spotify playlist for this series and it’s linked down below!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/21pWY7OiMFj8LaYpxhtVtW

Chapter Twenty

“Specs and the Flyboy” Masterlist

Tagging: @nnon-it-up @fluffymadamina @remmyswritings @ourstarsailor @darkusangelus @josis-teacup @marvel-jackt-loki-buck @yeetyeetchickenmeat @sameoldbaby @theserenityspace @seeing-but-not-observing @supervoldejaygent @momc95 @brooke0297 @kinda-c0nfused @outoftheregular

#jack thompson x reader #agent carter #jack thompson #peggy carter #daniel sousa #howard stark #edwin jarvis #dum dum dugan #pinky pinkerton #happy sam sawyer #the howling commandos #michael carter #dottie underwood #marvel cinematic universe #strategic scientific reserve

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forthehpfanboys · 4 years ago

Text

Unexpected But Accepted

Pair: George Weasley x Reader x Fred Weasley: he/him.

Summary: Fred and George have been driving you bonkers. You try to get away for five minutes but find out they’re arguing over you. You snap when you see it happen right in front of you and punish Fred for sass. Basically, you fuck George, then suck off Fred.

Warnings: SMUT (MDI), poly, dirty talk, bondage, probably took this too far, oops, swears, way too long and probably not good.

Notes: Requested! Hope you enjoy!

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

Your back pressed against the wall, your chest heaving with quick breaths leaving your lips. The small room was quiet and dark, allowing you to hear the pair of rushing footsteps that’d been chasing you for the past 10 minutes come down the hall. You covered your mouth, trying to hide your panting breaths into the skin as the steps came closer and closed your eyes in hopes of not being found in the small broom closet. Suddenly, one of your chasers spoke up, causing you to go rigid against the wall.

“Do you see him?” One spoke up while a sigh was released from the other.

“No. How did he disappear?”

You tried to sink deeper into the darkness without making a peep. Godric, if they found you, you’d never hear the end of it. You just wanted some peace and quiet.

“I don’t understand! Is there a hidden room we haven’t discovered?”

“I highly doubt it, Georgie. Let’s be real.”

“So should we split up?”

“Probably best if we just head to class.” Heavy footsteps trailed down the hallway, voices fading more with each step.

“Since when do you care about grades?”

“I don’t. Come on. We might bump into him on the way.”

You didn’t step out of the broom closet until you were 10,000 percent sure they’d left, allowing you to let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. Shutting the door behind you, you leaned against it, wincing to yourself when your head smacked against the wood alittle harder than you intended. You didn’t like hiding from them, but you didn’t have much choice.

The two redheads had been acting differently lately and it’s been taking a toll on your mental health lately. You couldn’t have five minutes alone without them almost tearing eachother apart for your attention and, honestly, you just needed a break. Or maybe food. You haven't been able to eat in peace because of the twins antics. Hermione and Harry would bring you food while Ron, the forever charming redhead, laughed at your demise.

You’ve tried talking to them about what’s going on, but they always brush you off and ask if you wanna go do something somewhere and drag you away anyway. It wasn’t that they were being creepy or anything, it was just overwhelming you and you needed some serious (Y/n) Time.

It almost felt like they knew something you didn’t and it was frustrating beyond comprehension. Sure, you and the twins were close but fuck, it was almost like they made a bet to torture or something along those lines. Maybe it was a prank?

What you didn’t know is that you were kinda right. A couple days before this specific one, the twins made a bet after learning two truths that changed a few things within their brotherly bond. Truth one was how George's feelings for you changed from friend to lover. The second truth was how Fred's feelings for you changed in the exact same manner. The bet resolved over you, of course, and how they’d win you. More specifically, whichever twin managed to win your feelings, won the bet and you were the prize.

You looked both ways, checking the hallway to make sure it was empty before abandoning the hiding spot with a feverous sprint. Your footsteps echoed down the empty halls, your robes flapping behind you. You proceeded to multitask. You ran down the intertwining halls while debating on going to class or hiding away in your dorm. In the end, your feet decided for you. Before you knew it, you were sprinting up the moving staircase up to the Fat Lady.

“Cherry top.” You spoke quickly before she even had the chance to open her mouth. You ignored her grumble on how kids used to care about her singing and focused on walking through the empty room. You plopped yourself down on the couch facing gently crackling fire. A quiet sigh left your lips, hands going through your hair. “What changed?” you whispered to yourself.

“You really have no clue?”

The voice made you jump and turn around seeing.. No one? You felt the couch sink further closer to the ground and you were met with another redhead, allowing you to relax back against the plush cushions.

“Godric, Gin, you scared me.” You let out a meek chuckle and ran a hand over your eyes. “What’re you doing here anyway? Shouldn’t you be with The Golden Trio or something?”

“Or something.” She cast a smile in your direction. “I heard what’s going on between you and the two idiots. Figured you could use some help sorting them out.” The youngest Weasley tucked her feet in and turned toward you fully, the smile turned into a grin.

“I’d adore help.”

“I thought so.” She let out a chuckle. “Rumor has it they have a bet going. Lee overheard them arguing over it and who was winning.” Ginny’s grin turned into the classic Weasley Side Smirk. The words rolled around in your head, your nose scrunching in confusion. Arguing? They never argue. You tried to come up with a time where they actually fought and only mock up arguments made themselves clear. “People are saying it’s over a specific absolutely oblivious Gryffindor Quidditch player, others say it’s over who can burn the school down first-” Ginny laughed, shaking her head a little as she spoke.

“Quidditch player? Oh- Angelina, right? Yea, it’s pretty obvious they’ve been pining after her for a while. “ You forced out with a very small and very fake smile across your lips. You knew how the two pranksters looked at her. It only made sense they’d be after her, she was smart, great at the game and a looker. You swallowed hard. You were just the Keeper for Gryffindor, not a chaser or a seeker, just kept to the goals. It didn’t feel as special as the others. “But I don’t see how this involves me.” You could’ve sworn you heard her mumble ‘oblivious’ again, but she spoke up before you could even question it.

“So, you really don’t know?”

“Don’t know what?”

“Oh my Godric, you really don’t know?”

“Know what, Gin?”

“I thought they would’ve told you!” She looked down at her fingers, playing with her nail. Her long hair fell around her face like a curtain, no doubt hiding the grin. She was ignoring you on purpose.

“Gin, so help me, I will shatter your knee caps. Tell. Me.” You threatened, giving her a strong glare. Your glares could kill. Students and teachers alike knew your temper was not something to trifle with and made up for 99 percent of your detentions. You’re not one to throw fists first, but you definitely don’t hold your tongue. While the castle got nervous around you and you ralmost famous temper, the Weasleys did not give one flying fuck. They’d tease you until you die because they all knew you had a sweet spot for them.

“I mean, you're their best friend and you don’t know. Damn, that’s so.. Bad, yet just like them, wow.” She moved the hair away from her eyes. “Ok. Listen, the twins don’t fancy Angie, (Y/n). I think you need to consider both sides of the spectrum.” She paused, giving you an expecting look before sighing and going on. “They’re bisexual. Came out last year.”

“Oh, haha. Really funny.” You stood up, moving away from the couch to one of the towering glass windows. Pressing your weight against the brick wall, you gazed out, watching students rush to classes and others just goofing off. Ginny knew of your crush on the two red-heads, but she didn’t have to joke about it like this. “Now isn’t the time for jokes, Gin. “

“I’m serious, (Y/n). Think about it. They’ve been all over you, everyone has noticed.” Ginny walked over to you, resting a hand on your shoulder. She could tell you were gonna be on the fence no matter what the words, so she just sighed and retracted her hand. “I’d never joke about this. It could very well be you the identical idiots are drooling over.”

“They're really bi?” You turned to her, your eyes sparkling with hope.

“Honestly, (Y/n). Would I lie to you?” She snickered patting your back before heading over to the portrait hole. “Really, think about it. It'll make sense with time, i'm sure.” With that, she popped through the hole in the wall. With a final creak of the portrait shutting, you were left alone in silence, rolling her words in your head.

Ok, maybe it did make a small, tiny, miniscule bit of sense, but why didn’t Fred and George tell you? You sighed, your hot breath fogging up the glass. Maybe they didn’t want you to know. Maybe they thought you’d call them freaks or weirdos, but you’d never. You remember when you came out to them as (s/p) and they didn’t judge you at all.

You wanted to scream when you heard the creak of the entrance opening again. For fucks fucking fuck, even without the twins there you couldn’t get alone time. You needed to think, especially with the new info Ginny told you.

“There ya are, (Y/n)! We’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

Your eyes focused on the reflection in the glass pain, a groan leaving your lips at the sight. Of course. Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

“Hey.” Your voice was stiff, revealing how you felt deep down. Frustration and irritation. You noted how the redheads both stepped closer to you. One gently pulling you by the hand to sit down in a chair not too far from the window while the other taking the seat across you, shooting you a soft smile.

“Ok. What’s wrong?” Fred spoke, his back slouching in the chair, his arms crossing over his chest. George was standing next to you with a cocked eyebrow, a soft smile on his face.

“Yeah, we know you (N/n). What’s going through that pretty head of yours?” George ran his hand through your hair before squatting next to your seated form. You could vaguely smell his cologne. You turned to George, missing the glare from Fred.

“I.. Just stressed, is all. Exams coming and not getting enough sleep.” It wasn’t fully a lie, so.

“Are you sure you’re not sick or something?” Fred stood up and walked over, the back of his hand reaching out to press against your forehead. It was halted when a matching pale hand grabbed his wrist.

“Fred, I think if he was sick, he would’ve said something along those lines. It’s just stress.” George’s voice held a barely noticeable amount of venom as his grip tightened ever so slightly on his older brothers wrist. The death glares they exchanged as Fred whipped his hand away from his younger twins grip had you raising an eyebrow in question.

“So you're a doctor now?”

“Can you stop with the attitude? I’m so sick of it!”

“You’re sick of it? I’m sick of you! I was just gonna check if he had a fever.”

“Don’t touch him, Fred.”

“I was just checking if he was ok!”

“Well, you don-!”

“Ok and I’m putting an end to this.” You stood up and shoved your way between them, pushing them away as you stepped forward. “What the hell has been going on with you two? This is- Godric- you guys are driving me nuts.” Before they knew what was happening you were ranting. “Seriously! I can’t even shower without you guys trying to be there! Like just- What is going on? This week feels like a year and I’m drowning in Wealsey cologne and fancy candy from Honeydukes-” Your hands were running through your hair sporadically, which the twins both thought was adorable, but knew now wasn’t the time.

Fred and George looked at each other as you went on.

“Please. Just- It hurts so much to see you too fight and it makes me want to punch something- literally anything- because you guys are my everything! Just fucking talk to me! Please.” Your chest was heaving when you finally finished, your entire body getting warm.

“Everything?” They turned to you, everything matching up insync.

“..What?” You felt even hotter than before. Wait, did you actually call them your everything?

“Aw, don’t playdumb now, (N/n)! You said we’re your everything.”

“You’re hearing things, Fred.”

“Hmm, no. I don’t think we are.” They stepped closer.

“Ah, well, I.. never said that, Georgie. Very simple.”

“Do we have to go back to fighting over you?” Fred joked as they separated and began to advance toward you. The twins trapped you between them, one on both sides. George rested his arm on your shoulder while Fred shot him a teasing smirk, his nose scrunching up. “Cause we’ll do it, princey, don’t tempt us.”

You don’t know what came over you, maybe it was your built up tension or your anger issues, but you grabbed them by the ties of their uniform and yanked them over to the staircase leading up to the dorms. You pressed them against the wall just before the stair cases and trapped them there with your body.

“Do it and fucking see what happens, Weasley.” One hand tangled their ties together, your other hand coming to press against the wall by George’s head. The boys’ faces erupted into a blush, causing you to smirk. “You two have been driving me absolutely nuts these past few days. I dare you to push one more button.” You tried not to act surprised by how your voice dropped. Fred’s tongue swiped across his suddenly dry lips and George turned even redder.

“Oh yea, (L/n)? What are you gonna do? Give us a stern talking too?” Fred smirked, his eyes trailing down your figure, then back up to your eyes. He was challenging you. You got closer to his face, your voice dripping even lower.

“I could tie you to the bed and fuck your brother right infront of you, make you watch him get what you oh so desperately crave.” Your head was cocked to the side, your eyes dark with something Fred had never seen before.

“Well, that was unexpected-” George all but whispered before he swallowed thickly, his hand coming up to cover his face.

“But damn, so accepted. Who knew he was so dirty?” Fred groaned out. His hand wrapped around the back of your neck to pull you into a kiss. You released the ties and favored running your fingers through his hair, grabbing onto a few locks and giving it a tug.

“Should we confess or should you guys just keep kissing?” George spoke up from the sidelines, fidgeting with his hands. Fred separated from you and got him the classic Weasley Side Smirk.

“I think he knows now, Georgie, come on!” Fred yanked his tie free and slipped free from you and proceeded to run up the steps, skipping 2 at a time. You took this time to appreciate his mile long legs. “Hope your good at keepin’ your promises, (L/n)!” He called from the top of the steps. With a laugh, you gave George a short kiss, grabbed his wrist and led the blushing redhead up the stairs.

By the time you and George came up the stairs, Fred was already trying to disrobe. I say trying because he’d given up on unbuttoning his white polo and is trying to pull the still buttoned collar over his head. Watching the older twin thrash around in the stuck shirt made George and you erupt in giggles.

“Should we help him?” George asked his laughs.

“Nah, he can figure it out himself. Besides, I wanna kiss you.” You cornered George against one of the bedposts, not caring whose bed was whose and immediately pressed your lips against his. He let out a needy moan and pulled you closer, his arms around your neck. Your hands landed on his waist as your teeth nibbled on his bottom lip. You pulled from the kiss when a second pair of arms wrapped around your waist, which you prompt slapped away. “What did I say? Get on the bed, Freddie.”

The groan that left the older twins lips was lewd, causing you to chuckle and shove him away from your back. He reluctantly laid on the bed, sprawled out like a starfish, his bulge prominent against his dark uniform. Damn, he must really want you. The idea of one of the twins drooling over you had you hardening in your pants.

“Not like that, Fred. Back against the headboard.” You spoke, gently leading George to the bed and pushing him to side down on the edge. You untied the younger twins tie and with a kiss to his nose moved to his counterpart, climbing onto the plush mattress one he obeyed. You smirked down at the redhead as you plopped yourself on his lap, causing him to groan.

“Having fun, doll?” Fred spoke as his hands instinctively moved to your hips, pulling you closer. You pulled his hands away from your waist, kissed each wrist before tying them to the headboard with his brother's tie.

“You know it, babe.” You casted him a wink. Climbing off his lap and prompt ignoring his whine, you brought your attention back to the younger twin and dragged him into a kiss. “And how are you feeling, Georgie?”

“Perfect.” His voice was soft and airy, causing you to giggle.

“Oi. Stop being cute without me.” Fred spoke up, nudging you in the side with his foot.

“Shut it. This is why you're tied up.” You smacked his foot away and pulled George onto your lap. You kissed along his neck, your fingers trailing through his hair. His hands slid from your shoulders, down your flat chest to your belt, promptly undoing it and pulling it free from the loopholes.

“Oh, please. You love my teasing.”

“I wish you gagged him with his tie.” George snickered out. He'd thrown the belt to the side and was now unbuttoning your white button up shirt.

“I’m debating on it, actually.” You laughed out. You sucked a mark on the side of George’s neck and shrugged off your shirt once it was fully undone and threw it to the side. Your hands came up to undo George's shirt, but ended up just ripping a few of the buttons free. “Fuck it, I’ll buy you new ones.” You pressed your lips to his again, your hands sliding across the bare skin. Fuck. His skin was so soft, but you could feel the muscles under it rippling with a soft moan.

“You know we have magic, right? You could’ve just spelled his clothes away.”

You let out a groan and pulled away from George's lips and glared at the older redhead. You shook your head in disapproval and tsked at him.

“You gag him, Georgie. I’m gonna finish stripping.” You stated, giving the tall redhead a slap on the bum before standing up. You watched Georgie snicker and slide Fred’s tie free.

“Wait, no. We can talk this through-” Fred was interrupted by the tie being shoved into his mouth. “I’d apologize, but I’m not sorry, Freddie. Should’ve shut your mouth. Had the chance.” Geogie patted his shoulder and scooted back. When he turned to you, he blushed a brighter red than his hair. You were lazily stroking yourself, your boxers hanging around your thighs. “Blimey-” George choked out, licking his lips.

“Like what you see?” You chuckled, stepping closer to him. He eagerly nodded his head. The boy was holding back the biggest urge to drop to his knees and suck the soul out of you. You flashed him a smirk. “Come on, then. Strip, baby,”

He rolled onto his back, lifted his legs and all but ripped himself free from his constricting jeans. The enthusiasm made you giggle. Your eyes followed along the pale skin and you wanted, oh so desperately to count the freckles sprinkled across his skin. God, he was so absolutely beautiful and it was safe to say Fred was just as beautiful.

“Merlin’s fucking beard. You’re so beautiful.” You stepped over, running your hands along his toned legs. “Godric, I should use your legs as earmuffs some time.” Your confidence grew when Fred and George both let out a whine. “Ok. Here’s what I want.” You sat him back up and leaned into his ear, your hands slowly sliding up his thighs. You licked your lips when you heard the younger redheads breath hitch. “I want Freddie to have a nice view, ok?” You whispered, your hands hiking higher up his thighs before you dragged your nails down the skin gently. “Go to the foot of the bed, spread your legs and lean over to put your hands on the mattress.”

George slipped out from beneath you and went to the foot of the bed. He was half bent over, legs spread and staring down at his hands on the mattress. Following him around the posts, you stood behind him and ran your hands down his toned back.

“Oh, fuck, you’re freckles go down your back-” Your voice came out breathy and light. Your eyes looked between Fred, who was whining against the tie and the twin slowly turning red.

“Is that good?” George asked, his ears tinting a bright red.

“Of course. You’re so beautiful. Does Freddie have the same patterns?” Your thumb ran over a patch of freckles.

“Yeah. He’s got these little patches of freckles everywhere.” George turned his head to look at you, a smile on his face. You couldn’t help but giggle, your hands rubbing over his globes.

“Godric, I can’t wait to see.” Your dark eyes turned to lock with Fred’s, as a dirty smirk came across your mouth. He let out a little whine, his legs shifting on the bed, trying to get some form of simulation.

“Don’t get your hopes up.” George laughed, pressing his forehead to the bed. You gave his asss a slap, causing him to whine.

“Be nice to him.” You snickered, leaning over to kiss the back of his neck whine your hand trailed down his abdomen. Your hand wrapped around his wood, his hips bucked in response. “You’re so hard.”

“Obviously.”

“Do I need to tie you up, too?”

“Oh, no sir.” His voice dripped sarcasm.

“Georgie.” You warned while pulling your hand away. You sucked on your pointer finger and brought it to his entrance, gently pushing it in. He was chewing on his bottom lip, trying to stay loose and relaxed. “Be nice.” You leaned off his back, standing up fully. Your other hand grabbed his cheek and spread it while your finger pulled back some. After spitting on your fingers,you gently slipped in a second finger. Godric, his moans were so perfect.

George was shivering. Sure, he’d played around in the shower, but damn was it better with a person, especially when that person was your crush. You prepped the bottom for what felt like hours and he was just about drooling into the sheets.

“Merlin, you really wanna be safe, don’t you.” George moaned out when you pressed your fingers against his prostate.

“Well, yeah. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“My god, you two are so gooey it hurts.” You both turned to Fred. He had a smirk on his face. Fucker had literally pushed the tie out of his mouth. “Get to it, (L/n).”

“For fucks sake, Fred.” You chuckled out, pulling your fingers away from his entrance. You held your own dick by the base before pushing the head in gently. George pressed his cheek against the bed, a whine leaving his lips. His freckle covered hands grabbed the sheets. His knees pressed together once you pushed all the way in him. “You ok?”

Your hands hopped from his hips to wrap around his midsection once he nodded. You let out a sigh of relief and placed a few kisses on the freckles scattered across his broad shoulders.

“I wish I was getting some of that action.” Fred’s head hit the headboard. This felt like he was having a wet dream and seeing it from 3rd person.

“If you kept your mouth shut, you could’ve joined us.”

Your hips pulled back slowly, your chin resting on George’s shoulder. The gasp that left his lips when you pushed back in had you shivering. You kept up a steady pace, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth. Groans, whimpers, moans, gasps- every noise echoed in the nearly empty room. George’s hand had found his dick between his legs and was shamelessly jerking it to match your hips.

“Godric, Georgie,” your voice so close to his ear had him moaning your name, “you're so tight, baby.”

Watching you fuck into his brother had Fred licking his lips. The older redhead desperately wanted to be in George's position and he was gonna throw something if he didn’t get some attention soon. He bounced his legs in dismay. His dick was painfully hard and throbbing in his boxers.

“I’m still here-” Fred did jazz hands against the headboard.

“And I'm busy, shut it.” You spat out as you rocked into George faster, who only grew louder beneath you. Your hands gripped his hips, your nails digging into his skin as you moved. George’s hand moved faster between his legs, which were shaking harder than an earthquake.

With a gasp, George came into his fist without a warning. A cry left lips, his hips bucking between your actions and his fist as he pressed his forehead into the bed. You kept the pace up, your own orgasm just around the corner.

“Almost there, Georgie. You’re so perfect.” You cooed in his ear, your teeth gently biting the tip of the cartilage. You moaned against his neck when you finally reached your own orgasm inside him. You stayed against him for a good while, just holding his sweaty form against his body.

You slowly pulled out and chuckled as George just kinda plopped onto the bed and climbed on the plush mattress with him. You ran your fingers through his sweaty hair and kissed his head.

“You did good. Are.. Are you falling asleep?” You laughed gently, watching the man's eyelids flutter. “Adorable. Love you, Georgie.” You shook your head when he mumbled out a quick ‘love you yoo’ and almost immediately began snoring. Fred cleared his throat, getting your attention.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.” You crawled over to him, undoing his tie. “Did you learn your lesson?” Your hand grazed over his bulge, your noses practically touching.

“You know I didn’t, baby boy.” Fred cupped your face, his calloused thumbs ran over your cheeks.

You let out a mock sigh of frustration before shaking your head back and forth. You watched his pale hands go to his belt and rip it off. He threw it off to the side before undoing his pants and simply pulling his dick out over the boxers.

“Wanna take care of this for me? I did sit and wait patiently.”

“You didn’t have much of a choice.”

“Just suck my dick, won’t you?”

The bluntness made you snort but you dropped your head down anyway.

“I guess you deserve it.” You held the base of his dick and licked across the head, looking up at him with false innocent eyes. Fred ran his hands through your hair.

“Oh, yeah. You’re amazing.”

“I haven’t done anything yet.” You said between laughs.

“So get to it, dove!”

You rolled your eyes and took the tip into your mouth, your hand moving up and down on the base. The fingers in your hair slowly tightened, grabbing as much as he could. A moan fell from his lips as his head fell back against the wooden headboard with a thud. You licked along the underside of the head. It was clear he wasn’t going to last long.

You took him down to the base, gagging on the head hitting the back of your throat and began to pull back. About half way up, Fred pushed you back down, a needy whine leaving his lips. He used the hand in your hair to control your head going up and down.

“Amazing, dolly. Absolutely perfect.” He was just mumbling under his breath while he listened to you gag and whine around his length. He licked his lips as his hand somehow tightened on your locks. “Gonna cum. Swallow it, oh please swallow it.”

Your eyes were watering by the time he came down your throat, leaving you sputtering and choking. He gently pulled you off. He reached for the closest piece of fabric, which ended up being George’s shirt, and gently wiped himself down.

“I knew there was a reason I loved you.” Fred teased as he threw the cloth and pecked your swollen lips.

“Wow. Only here for my bj skills?” You raised an eyebrow. “And here I thought we had something.” You planted a soft kiss on his lips. He suddenly reached up, holding your face as he stared into your eyes. His entire demeanor shifted to serious as he spoke. “(Y/n). I can tell you right now, me and my brother-”

“My brother and I-”

“Shut it. My brother and I,” his voice was filled with sass again, “have never, ever, ever, eevveerr felt this way about another person. We both love you, we have for a while. Granted this whole thing is super unorthodox, but we care about you.”

“It’s true.” mumbled a half asleep George as his arms snaked around your waist. You couldn’t stop the smile spreading across your lips. “I know, Ginny was right.”

“She’s always right.” They said in unison.

“Now come on, let’s snuggle.” With that, George tugged you down next to him and Fred joined you. The three of you got cozy under a blanket and slowly drifted off, enjoying the body heat of each other.

The next morning, Ginny said ‘I told you so’ more times than you could count, but that was expected, even if you didn’t want to accept it.

#fred weasley x male reader #fred weasley smut #fred weasley #Fred and George Weasley #george weasley x male reader #george weasley smut #george weasley #Fred and George x male reader #x male reader #fred weasley imagine #george weasley imagine #male reader #Ronny Writes #fic #hp male fic #hp fic

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whump-a-la-mode · 3 years ago

Note

🍳 - Breakfast in bed

Idk all you characters are great.

It took me a while to decide on a scenario for this-- there’s so many good ones for a prompt as cute as this one! I eventually decided on Villainsicle, kind of a spiritual successor to the Nurse Me prompt. Some prologue caretaking for our good good boy.

Thank you so much for the ask! Sorry I haven’t been posting much these last few days, I have been stuck doing So Much Overtime. But my inbox is full of comfort prompts, so hopefully I’ll have some more cute stuff written soon!

For this ask game.

CW//Past pet whump, dehumanization, low self esteem, speech difficulties

Villain didn’t understand beds.

For the Henchmen, that hadn’t been an immediate realization. Not quite as immediate as their confusion over plates and silverware and cups. When the drenched stranger had shown up, bedroom arrangements had been the last thing they’d thought about. They were far too busy frantically drying off their new ward and trying to get food down their throat.

After they were dry and had stopped their frenetic shaking on that first day, Henchman had laid them upon their own bed-- and they had been far too exhausted to refuse. Hell, they had been asleep before they hit the mattress.

Once Villain had recovered to the point of no longer needing constant attention, Henchmen had set up a spare room to accommodate them. With the difficulty involved in procuring a bed on such short notice, they had instead acquired a simple sleeping pad for their dependent. Villain had never seemed to use it, but that hadn’t proved to be too strange.

When they decided to continue sleeping on the floor instead of on their newly-arrived bed, however, that is when the two Henchmen took notice.

“They have to have used a bed before, right?” Henchman2 absentmindedly tore a napkin between their fingers, creating a small pile of the ripped paper. “They’re our age. There’s no way they haven’t.”

“Well, they’d never seen a cup before, either, to be fair.” Henchman nodded. “It does seem weird, though. They’re pretty clearly from Organization, like us. And our dorms had beds.”

“Shitty beds.”

“Yes, shitty beds. But still beds.”

Henchman2 nodded, arranging their pile of napkin scraps for a moment, before speaking:

“We should probably do something about it, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“If our goal is to, y’know, help them act like a person, sleeping in a bed is part of that, right?”

“I guess so. I didn’t even think about it.”

“Have you tried, like, talking to Villain about it?”

“Not really. I helped them into the bed once, and when I came back they were back on the floor.”

“Weird.”

“Yeah... But, what can we really do about it?”

“If you want to help them act like a person, you’re going to have to talk to them like a person.”

“I don’t want to scare them.”

“You’re going to make food about it, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m gonna make food about it.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The sun looked different when it wasn’t shining over the water.

On the water, the bright rays never allowed themselves to be ignored. They did not simply provide light, but bright glimmering spots on the black ocean surface, rippling on splashing drops, glistening on the ship’s wake.

On land... Sun was a source of light. Subtler. Not making itself known-- only being visible in the few dew drops where scattered liquid made its way onto dry ground.

Villain still hadn’t gotten used to that. Nor had they truly gotten used to the ground itself-- the world beneath was meant to be a fluid thing, shifting and rolling with the tides. The stillness felt as odd to them as the sea once had.

In a way, they missed the sea. The glare of the dawning sun threatened to make them flinch away, but they resisted, standing in front of the window, staring out over the rolling hills outside.

Were they near the sea? They searched the horizon, but saw not its whistling white waves.

The nice people-- Henchman and Henchman2, they had names, Villain reminded themself-- kept offering them activities. Books, board games. Things that perhaps they should have been interested in. Some of them were scattered across the room’s floor, even now.

But, they couldn’t bring themself to pay mind to those things. They were far more interested in simply looking out the window. Looking for the sea. They had yet to find it, but they could not help but feel that, if they looked for long enough, they would eventually spot it.

Soon. It was getting light, now. They’d tried staring out the window all night long, but had seen not the slightest glimpse of water-reflected moonlight.

Their legs shook, and their eyelids were terribly heavy. But they wanted so desperately to find the sea.

“Villain?”

They perked up, though stayed in their position, not so much as averting their gaze. It sounded to be Henchman-- the more cautious of the nice people. The softer one. Perhaps they wanted to play another game, though Villain knew they would be far too confused by the rules and the little pieces to get anywhere.

“Villain, is it alright if I come in?”

“Come in yes okay.” They nodded. Words still felt so thick on their tongue, but they made the nice people so happy. It was more than worth it, to see the way they smiled when Villain stuttered out a few sounds.

The doorknob turned, door creaking on its hinges as Henchman walked in, backwards, hands seemingly occupied by something. Villain turned, looking back to the nice person.

“Oh-” Henchman looked up. “I didn’t think you’d be awake.”

“S’rry.”

“No, no, it’s fine. But... you look tired. Did you sleep at all?”

Henchman frowned. Villain could not help but do the same-- they had messed up. They had made the nice person sad.

“No.”

“Were you looking out the window?”

“Mhm.”

“Well... I brought something for you. And I thought maybe we could talk.”

“’kay.”

Villain looked to the item in Henchman’s hands as they sat on the bed. It had been shoved into the room a few days ago, even though they didn’t entirely understand why. There was no one here to use it.

Henchman patted the space beside them on the bed-- one of the new command signals for ‘Assido.’ Villain obeyed, sitting down beside the nice person.

“Want to talk about what?”

In response, Henchman picked up the platter they held, handing it to them. It was a plate-- they’d remembered that word yesterday. The food on it was familiar-- and it was food, if Henchman brought it, it was always food-- though the words escaped their mind’s grasp like eels. Something like bread, but with square holes, took up most of the platter, with something yellow and speckled with salt curled about the sides.

“About your bed.”

Villain blinked.

“This?” They pointed to the piece of furniture on which they sat.

“Yes.” Henchman’s brows raised in surprise. “You know about beds?”

“Yes?” It was a silly question to ask.

“Me and Henchman2 have been worried. You haven’t been sleeping on the bed. You’ve been sleeping on the floor. You can do what you want, of course, but... you don’t have to sleep on the floor.”

More confused blinking.

“No one here for sleep in bed.”

“You’re here. It’s your bed.”

What? Villain was certain they had heard right, but the words confused them nonetheless. They still struggled to make words with their own mouth, but other people’s words were easier. Fuzzy sometimes, but simple.

“I do not sleep on bed.”

“Oh. Do you not like it?”

Villain felt completely lost. They must have misheard something at some point.

“Beds for people.”

“Beds are for people?” Right. Verb. Need a verb.

They nodded. “Beds are for people.”

Henchman frowned, though the way their brow furrowed showed an emotion other than disappointment. It almost appeared as... fury.

“Villain, you are a person.”

“Asset.” They corrected.

“No.” Henchman laid a hand on their shoulder, making them shiver. “Villain, you are a person just as much as I am. Just as much as anyone else.”

“Why?”

“B-Because... Because you are? Because you’re a human being. And people sleep on beds. This is your bed, if you want it. Do you want it?”

Even just sitting on it made them comfortable enough that they felt, at any moment, about to fall into unconsciousness. The floor was fine, but...

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Henchman smiled. “How about, you have some breakfast in bed, and then get some sleep, okay?”

“Thank.”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

For a reason beyond Villain’s comprehension, Henchman leaned forward, wrapping their arms around their body and squeezing.

What was that called again? A... A...

A hug.

#villainsicle #whump #whump community #villain whumpee #ask game

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fyeah-bangtan7 · 3 years ago

Text

Jimin: “There’s people who’ve been rooting for us throughout this difficult time”

In the “ARMY Corner Store” video posted by BTS on their YouTube channel BANGTANTV to mark the eighth anniversary of their debut, Jimin talked about the leather riding jacket that the older members passed down to him when he was still a trainee. The jacket was first worn by SUGA, handed down to j-hope after SUGA’s debut, then given to Jimin with the words, “This riding jacket is passed down from generation to generation.” Jimin still wears the jacket when it’s cold. Many things change, and, even in times when they must, there are things that do not.

You released three songs in a year: “Dynamite,” “Butter” and, finally, “Permission to Dance,” and BTS grew more popular all the while. How do you feel? Jimin: At some point, it stopped feeling real. The reactions from fans, the cover videos they uploaded and the dance challenges they did—I’m just so thankful for that. It lit up my life. We made those songs with a good purpose in mind, so just hearing people say they enjoyed listening to them was fulfilling. And that was our original goal. “Permission to Dance,” in particular, was the perfect message for right now, so I think I got a lot of comfort from it, too.

How so? Jimin: I think it was both the atmosphere and the actual content. It was comforting right from the title. Thinking about it now, the fact that it made me think, Oh yeah, I might not be able to see ARMY right now, but I will soon, was one good point. I’ve been thinking by myself about how the future’s going to be better, and being more careful, and ended up waiting longer. And meanwhile, we had a fan meeting in the middle of all that. So my thinking changed to be more positive. That was great.

Was there any part you placed particular emphasis on to express such positive emotions in the song? Jimin: I think I just followed my heart. Before, there’d be some kind of concept, and I wanted to show off something about myself in that context, but lately I’ve just been following my heart, following the feeling of conveying the feelings I want to share with others. At first I was worried whether the feelings we were trying to convey in the songs would get across to people since we’d never tried songs in those styles before, but after giving the performances a shot, we found out they’re really fun and easy for us to follow along to, too. So I thought it should be easy enough for people to approach these songs, thankfully.

Even though the three songs—“Dynamite,” “Butter” and “Permission to Dance”—all have something in common, I imagine they were all completely different when it came to figuring them out. You did “Butter” before “Permission to Dance”—how was that? Jimin: They’re totally different. The attitudes I take on are different, the thought process is different, and I think the emotions I feel are all different, too. I think “Butter” was a bit hard for me. It wasn’t a style I was used to, but I thought the actual dance was elegant when I saw the video and it had a lot of footwork, so I thought I’d be good at it, but it was way harder than I thought. During practice I even thought, Why am I so bad at dancing? If you look at our usual choreography, it has very powerful parts with big movements and lots of power, but “Butter” felt really difficult because all the power went in at the same time even though it was loose. So I watched Hoseok dancing a lot, and since every member has their own style of dancing, I watched the way Taehyung loosened up, and the way Jung Kook danced by the book, and I combined all those. So for some of the broadcasts of “Butter” I really loosened up and for others I used a little more strength. I tried all different things.

Maybe that’s why even the style of clothes you’re wearing seems to change the way the dancing feels. It felt like you danced a little differently in a suit than when you were dressed casually. Jimin: I never noticed before but the songs do sound different depending on what I’m wearing. Sometimes I danced all excitedly when I wore casual clothes, but when I wore a suit, something about the song sounded sexy. There’s a different vibe when I dance alone versus when I dance as part of a group, so I visualize how I should dress to make my dancing look cooler every time.

The “Dynamite” performance at the Grammys was very impressive, too. I felt that the music, clothing style and poses where you jumped out were all a perfect match. Jimin: I think it all depends on what kind of outfit I wear, where I am for a given part, and how much I weigh. There’s a pronounced difference to the way a dance looks and feels based on how much I weigh. I think the dance and outfit were a good match in “Dynamite.”

On that note, when you performed “Black Swan” at the end of the year, what pair of shoes could you dance the best in? Looking at the fancam focus video, your dance changes in feeling slightly depending on the design of your shoes. Jimin: For me, it’s barefoot. I think it’s got to be barefoot when I’m doing a classic style dance. It looks sharp and attractive when I wear dress shoes, but it always feels more natural to express myself barefoot. It’s more dynamic, I guess you could say. So I wanted to go barefoot for all my other performances, too. I wanted to be barefoot for when we recorded “ON” at Seoul World Cup Stadium at the end of the year, too, but I gave that up because it could’ve been dangerous.

The performance of “ON” at Mnet 2020 MAMA, right? I was curious about something while watching that video: I wondered how the members of the group could perform with such effort in that big, audienceless stadium, with the new solo performances added into the original choreography and everything. What helped you to find strength even under those circumstances? Jimin: There’s people who’ve been rooting for us throughout this difficult time. I think we have to give them a reason to root for us, then. If we’re going to make them want to see us and make it fun for them to watch us, I wanted to give them a good reason.

Then how did you feel when you performed at the Grammy Awards? Surely it must’ve been meaningful to you in a number of ways. Jimin: I wanted our performance to show what it meant for us to be up on that stage. A group of kids from Korea, each from their own neighborhood, can do this, too, so what’s the big deal about winning an award? That’s one thing I thought. Of course you can’t get it if you’re not capable enough yet, but the important thing is that the people who like us can be proud of us, too. We did the performance in return for all the support they show us.

It must be hard being unable to see your fans since you can’t hold any concerts. It’s hard to tell how well the performance was able to convey that return of their support. Jimin: I learn a lot from going on tour. I combine the audience’s immediate reactions and the parts I wasn’t satisfied with and practice based on that, and ask the other members about it too, but right now there’s no time to review that. So I keep practicing a lot, but it’s hard to tell how the things I’m doing will end up looking, so I keep trying things out on my own but without any feedback.

That must’ve made it harder to get ready for “Dynamite,” “Butter” and “Permission to Dance,” especially since you still have to sing in English and the emotions in the songs are a lot different from your previous ones, and it’s hard to feel the reaction in the concert hall under these circumstances. Jimin: Even the pronunciation is definitely different, and the part of your throat the sound comes from changes depending on the pronunciation. I think that’s why I was a little flustered. On “Butter,” if I had done it the way I always do, it wouldn’t show up. So I studied a lot on how to sound more clean and simple.

It felt like you had to meet all sorts of conditions; you have to keep it breezy and hit high notes, all while maintaining your unique voice. Jimin: I guess you could call it the song that most made me think like I was just starting out again. I think I practiced harder than ever before. I think I’ve worked extremely hard to have my own unique style, but then I hit a wall and had to go back to the beginning to find a new way. And I went over it a lot with Jung Kook. What if I sing it like this? Or what about this way? How should I practice? I asked so many questions like that and practiced a lot, too. But I enjoyed the process. At one point I was like, I can get that kind of voice out of my throat too? Even though it didn’t make it onto the final recording, I tried doing different adlibs while singing other parts and I found my strengths that way.

In previous songs you had fairly strong emotional vocals when you sang high notes, but this time around they’re cooler. How does it feel having different emotions in your vocals? BTS also sought to allow people to feel more positive emotions during the pandemic. Jimin: It was hard to adjust to the changes, but in other ways, since the group saw a greater outpouring of love, I thought we should be featuring emotions and content that’s a little more comprehensive. Personally, it was hard adjusting to a situation where I couldn’t perform. But after “Butter” was out and we moved on to “Permission to Dance,” I saw how lots of people took positively to the way I put so much effort into attempting to change things a bit more with these songs, and I realized that we could find a new side to ourselves in the process.

I saw on “ARMY Corner Store” that you were drinking with the other members recently and all talking together, which makes me think you’ve had a lot of thoughts since the pandemic started. The world’s changed so much, and the group’s status has changed since “Dynamite” came out, too. Jimin: It wasn’t just the time mentioned in “ARMY Corner Store”—we also talked while going here and there by car, whenever we would get together, and when we were on set. I think it took me a long time to calm my nerves. It took around four or five months, I guess, but after we kept dealing with it and talking with each other, I think that’s when we got used to the new normal and our new selves.

When you performed “Daechwita” at BTS 2021 MUSTER SOWOOZOO, the part you did was, as it happens, “Remember, remember days gone by remember.” Maybe it was a coincidence, but now that BTS, the team who debuted with “No More Dream,” currently sits at the top of the Billboard Hot 100, I’m wondering how you feel about the days gone by. Jimin: I only realized it recently, but I used to be really unstable. I was acting like I was well-grounded when I was around other people, like my family and friends. It meant I had to pretend a lot. I worried about others by saying things like, I’m fine, but how are you? I spoke like I could always take care of anything that came up, but looking back, that wasn’t the case.

What made you think like that? Jimin: I’m still young, and because I’m making a lot of money at a young age, I end up wondering what money and success ultimately mean. Because I’m young, I hear a lot of people talk, and some people can be jealous or envious. But there’s a lot of people I have to repay and a lot of relationships I need to hang onto. I thought I could take care of all these problems, but looking back, that wasn’t the case. It hasn’t been very long since I realized that I was the one to grab on and forced everything to happen.

Was it some sense of responsibility? It reminds me how you called yourself “the kind of person who likes to be loved” in your last interview with Weverse Magazine. So I imagine you probably try your best for the people in your life. Jimin: Yes. I was just being headstrong, you know. Being headstrong. (laughs) It’s the kind of situation where people look at you and they might say, You can’t even take care of yourself. (laughs) But there were still a lot of points where I kept thinking things like that. Now I think I didn’t have to go quite that far, and as times went by, I started to think, Oh, I’m glad I can think about this now so I can let things that I should let go of, go. When I couldn’t let things go, my resentment kept growing. My pain, too. Rather than admit I had those feelings at that time, I’d say there were emotions in different situations that I came to unconsciously accept, and I started to feel like I could see how much of a hard time I was having after some time passed.

You’ve tried so hard. How did you feel after letting go of all those feelings? Jimin: I felt like I was becoming empty sometimes, at first. I felt like I was denying my own thoughts and beliefs. But I talked a lot with my parents, and I said, Did you know I was going through all that? And they said, We didn’t know what you were going through, but we knew it was something. So finally I shared what I was feeling with them, and my mom and dad talked to me like they were my life coaches. After coming out of that whole period, even when I do similar things, I can tell my mind has changed a lot. If I was more focused on my surroundings before, now I’m able to focus on myself as well. My mom told me it means I’m growing up, and that I’m finally becoming an adult. So I said, I don’t wanna be an adult—it’s too hard. (laughs)

It seems like you ended up doing a lot of self-reflection during the pandemic. Jimin: Last year I saw how lots of people were having a rough time and how there was a big social crisis, but as time dragged on I started to feel like I was trapped. But it was mostly okay when I was working.

What would you say work means to you these days? Jimin: I guess it’s hard to separate it from myself. I’m me, and there’s also a separate me who works, but it’s hard to tell the two apart.

#bangtan #jimin #m:weverse magazine #210801

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codename-adler · 4 years ago

Text

Dear Tumblr toxicity,

Hi. Adler here. We need to talk.

- TW: mental health issues, depression, bipolar disorder, self-harm, homophobia, transphobia, coming out, xenophobia, islamophobia, racism, implied sexual content, rape, non-con, addictions, abuse, parental negligence, depictions of violence, swearing (please message me kindly if I forget anything)

- What prompted this message: The release of Skam France S7 teaser (emphasis on teaser, will get into that below)

- Where I’m coming from: I will talk from the pov of a white, cis and queer 22-years-old woman (she/her); this is the pov that affects my experiences and the opinions I will share below; but my message comes from a place of deep hurt, and love

- What this is about: My goal is to share a recurring experience that has hurt me in order to spread a message of awareness, maturity, peace and love

- Central content: Skam France, Skam Wtfock, and Skam/remakes in general

From now on I will assume people have enough information for me to talk about the topics without explaining every plotline/character. There are plenty of wiki pages to help you out and I will gladly answer any (respectful) questions asked if a plothole bothers your comprehension of my message. I’m only making these assumptions in order to alleviate the text.

January 9th, 2021.

The francetv slash YouTube channel releases an unexpected teaser video for an equally unexpected seventh season Skam France. The video features Tiffany, a white, cis female teenager, going into labour from denial pregnancy just after winning what appears to be a gymnastics championship. Overall, the video and its release are very dramatic.

The character of Tiffany, also called Tiff, was previously seen on season 6 of Skam France as a bully who persecuted the main character, Lola, both at school and on social media. Outside of this characterization, nothing is known about her. It is majorly accepted that Tiff is not a liked character; she rather poses as one of the antagonists of Lola’s arc.

Now you know the details of what happened, in the most objectively possible way.

Now I’ll speak for myself.

Before I went digging around for people’s reaction, here is what I initially thought of this video.

1) Shock: I thought Skam France was over, so... Big, big shock.

2) Excitement: I hold this web series very close to my heart. It has gotten me through depressive episodes, anxiety attacks, coming out to my best friend. To see this new development? It couldn’t bring me more joy.

3) Curiosity: I recognized Tiff immediately. I was intrigued as to what would happen to her to set off a new season in true Skam Fr fashion. As soon as she started gripping her stomach, I knew she was pregnant and wasn’t aware of it. Big, big surprise here again.

4) Numbness/Overthinking: As I stared at my screen, motionless, my mind went off. What did it mean? How did she not know? Who is the father? Do we know him? Will the baby survive? Where are the other characters? Will Lamifex be present? What? How? When? Why? Who?

5) Disappointment: No, I did not like Tiff one bit in S6. Yes, I sincerely wished for a season on either Jo (ambiguous and funny teenage girl, cis + white), Sekou (seemingly neurodivergent teenage boy, cis + black), and my favorite, Max (mysterious and grave teenage boy, trans + white) So why Tiff? It felt to me like a missed opportunity, but I did not lose hope.

So, these were the five stages of my emotional process. And then I made the terrible mistake to go look for the fans’ reaction. I didn’t even look at the YT comments, I didn’t go on Instagram, I went directly here on Tumblr. Why? I’m still asking myself that. From S1 to S6 of Skam Fr, I kept my love for the show to myself and only looked at ig and video edits. I tried once, and only once, to look it up on Tumblr, and was greeted by fervent agressivity, disrespect and hate. Why did I ever forget that after watching the S7 teaser? I still don’t know.

The reactions on this platform were wild. People are furious (I get that). People are disappointed (I get that). People are anxious (I get that). People are also verbally agressive, insensitive, hateful, disrespectful and bullies. I don’t get that.

Comments along the lines of “What she gonna do with a fucking baby?”, “Are we gonna watch the baby do nothing all fucking season?”, “Wowwww, teenage pregnancy, so new and relatable!” (note the sarcasm made in the comment here), “Who gives a shit about Tiff?”, etc.

And then all the mistakes Skam Fr ever made flooded back onto the feed. The wlw misrepresentation, the whitewashing, the overdramatization, the dubious sex scenes between minors, all of it.

Let’s take a break here. Do I condone these mistakes? Nope. Am I a white-bully apologist? Nope. Did I forget every horrible action Tiff has made in the past? Nope. She manipulated a whole school against Lola, she profited from Lola’s mother’s death, she bullied her, harrassed her, pushed her deeper into mental distress. Tiff was a despicable character that I never once liked. The way she was played by the actress made it clear that Tiff was not intended to be a good guy. If I could replace her as the main of S7, I would, in a heartbeat. I’d choose, as I said, Jo, Sekou or Max.

Skam France deeply lacks diversity and made mistakes when attempting to diverse the issues represented. This is not an opinion, it’s a fact.

Poc representation is very, very low. Only one season has a woc of Islam beliefs as mc (Imane, S4) with poc entourage/family. Only 2 other characters not related to Imane were poc (Sekou and Sarah, S1-S2). These 2 characters were very in the background and served to further the mc’s plotline, they had no real content. (I am not a poc, and so my opinion does not matter here. If you are not poc, your “opinions” don’t matter here, this point is not for you to debate. These are facts.)

While I do not particularly find the wlw representation bad, I do understand how it hurts/bothers other queer women. From my perspective, the bar was very low regarding my expectations of the Lola/Maya pair (none of them died *yay* they had a happy ending *yay* they were not typically overfeminized or overmasculinized *yay* Lola and Maya were respectful of each other, understood each other, accepted each other with all their flaws and their beauty *yay* I truly believed in their love and it gave me confidence and hope *yay* I ould really go on but this is not my main point so I’ll stop here) Regardless of my opinion on Mayla, I understand that to some queer women, it was bothering/hurtful. (If you are anything other than a woman / wlw, this point is not for you to debate. Keep your “opinions” to yourself, it does not matter here. These are facts.)

Like every remake of the original Skam where the S4 was given to Sana/Imane, the Muslim community was not represented at its best, at its most beautiful and respectfully. The character of Imane, although she is my favorite girl of the series, was not portrayed in a way that respected the majority of the Muslim community. (If you are anything other than Muslim, this point is not for you to debate. Our opinions do not matter here. These are facts.)

And so the same goes for the portrayal of sexual assault and child pronography in S2, of mental illness and homophobia in S3, of disabilities in S5, of addiction, transphobia, self-harm and neurodivergence in S6. Again, if you are not part of these communities, your opinions do not matter on these issues. These are facts that are not up for debate.

In other words, Skam France, as well as the original Skam, Skam Wtfock, Skam España, and probably all the others I haven’t watched in their entirety, are NOT perfect shows. They (maybe) tried their best to portray issues of the younger generations that are ugly, shameful, taboo, hard-to-swallow-pills. Of course they made mistakes. Of course they have to be held accountable. Of course they can and should do better. Of course it must be spoken about.

Here is my problem.

The so-called “fans” shamelessly SHITTING on the WHOLE show because of ONE TEASER TRAILER. (btw, this is where I get angry)

I am not talking about the fans making fun of the show and this season’s premise like “Better MCs than Tiff for S7: a romance between the car that almost hit Lucas S3 and the car that hit Arthur S5, or the school’s nurse, or Imane’s dad, or Elu’s rabbit” (that shit’s funny and I’d watch all of these).Or the joke about Wtfock and Skam Fr shaking hands while signing the same contract to disappoint the fans with white MCs (it’s funny cuz it’s trueeeee).

I am not talking about the fans criticizing the producers’ choice of Tiff as MC. There is a difference between shitting on issues and adressing/discussing them. I WANT to talk about how this season’s issue would have been so much better if a woc, specifically a black woman, had been the MC, because black women and doctors are a whole different level of issue than white women and doctors. Add on top of that an unplanned teenage pregnancy? It would have been IMMACULATE. I WANT to talk which wlw couple was better represented, Mayla or Croana/Crisana, and why is that. I WANT to talk about disabilities in black and poc communities. I WANT to talk about headcanons, AUs, to rectify the missed marks. I WANT to talk about our takes on seasons about Max, Sekou and Jo, instead of Tiff’s.

I DO NOT WANT TO TALK ABOUT YOUR SHITTY, NEGATIVE, UNHELPFUL, HURTFUL COMMENTS.

Just because the protagonist is white, doesn’t give you ANY right to dismiss the issue that is unplanned teenage pregnancy. This is a problem that affects countries WORLDWIDE. Do you know how many deaths are related to minors giving birth? Do you know how many babies die at birth from these pregnancies? Do you have any idea the trauma it puts you through, to go into labor without even knowing you were pregnant in the first place, and then giving birth, and then having to care for a defensless human being? The dilemma of keeping it, or giving it away? The fear that lives in every person able to give birth, that one day they’ll become pregnant, because society turns sych a shameful look to that? No matter your ethnicity, your gender identity, your sexuality, your political stance or whatever shit you bring up to justify your disgraceful and downright degrading comments, YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO SAY THAT A MINOR GIVING BIRTH IS NOT AN ISSUE.

You think the topic has been covered plenty before? Yeah, because shows like “16 and pregnant” and “I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant!” are such good examples and show the reality with such an objective point of view!

Bullshit. Teenage pregnancy is still a taboo, it still kills, and people are still morons about it.

“Well I guess everybody is secretly pregnant now!” No, Jessica, but you wouldn’t know about it, would you? Because I wouldn’t tell you shit if you were my “friend” and I was going through it. The whole message of all the Skams is not that it presents super relatable issues of teenagers, although it is a big topic of the show. They present some issues that affect the youth in an authentic light, but that’s not it.

Tous les gens que tu rencontres mènent un combat dont tu ignores tout.

Sois indulgente. Toujours. x x x

Everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about.

Be kind. Always. x x x

THAT’S THE MESSAGE. THAT’S THE WHOLE POINT OF THE SHOW.

And you all missed it.

All of you making dead baby jokes and death threats, degrading people who give birth, shaming teenagers for their pregnancies... Listen to yourselves.

“Well she deserves it, she was such a bitch!” No, Michael, you shit stick. Let’s rewind a bit for you, yeah? It was a GOD DAMN TEASER. We literally know nothing! Nothing at all! Why are y’all getting mad when we saw 3:25 minutes representing a whole ass season! Listen to yourselves. Y’all judge so fast for people pretending to love Skam and its authenticity and its motto.

You say Tiff is irredeemable?

Emma cheated on her boyfriend.

Manon lied and manipulated her friends.

Lucas was homophobic and prejudiced agaisnt mentally ill people.

Imane was homophobic too and went behind her friends’ back to get what she wanted.

Arthur cheated on his girlfriend too.

Lola dragged Elliot down with her in her addiction, lied, was verbally abusive, etc.

ALL THE MAINS ARE PROBLEMATIC.

Any guess why?

BECAUSE THEY ARE TEENAGERS. THEY ARE STILL GROWING AND LEARNING.

Yet we still loved them all.

So don’t you dare tell me that Tiff deserves this, that her baby deserves to die, that teenage motherhood is irrelevant. Motherhood is not a curse in the first place, nor is it something to wish to inflict upon anyone. Motherhood is different for every single person and nobody except the person living with it can have an opinion on that. We don’t even know if the baby survived, for God’s sake!

There is no excuse for this kind of behavior..

It makes me so angry. Women are discriminated against in a fandom I thought was safe, again and again and again.

I have to stop here because, well, this is just too much. There is much wrong with Skam (the original AND all the remakes), but there is even more wrong with the fans. I’m done.

You don’t support the show anymore? Fine, then don’t watch it! If I really am wrong, the number of viewers will go down and the show will die, just like you wished. There is no need to be vicious about it.

I hope y’all are proud of your misogyny.

Sincerely,

Adler.

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