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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months

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Don't Speak 33

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, allusions to abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: Okay I had no plans to get this done but since US thanksgiving is near.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You cling to that moment of peace. Without Andy touching you, smothering you, invading you. You hide your head under your bent arm, curled up on your side as you try to close the world out. Reality slices through you like a razor.

You cannot outrun what is. Not anymore. You’ve lost that ability. Your mind can’t summon the fantasies that once kept you safe. There is only the tenderness inside and the bruises on your thighs.

He’s there, somewhere, lurking. You thought he would go to work but that hope was quickly crushed, along with all your others. He stayed and touched you until that got the better of him. Then he would put you on your back, or your stomach, sometimes your side, however he wanted you…

And you let him. You don’t fight. Your weightless body follows his whim and opens to him. You squeeze your eyes shut and whimper as your walls clench at the thought of him near you.

There’s something wrong with you. You’re supposed to love him, so it shouldn’t feel so bad, right? After all he’s done for you, shouldn’t you want him to do that? Shouldn’t you be just as eager for him?

You don’t understand it. It’s not supposed to hurt so surely, you’re doing something wrong. You’ll get it right. You can be what Andy wants, what he needs. You will not be another burden. Never again.

You hear him coming. You quiver and shrink down further. You can’t find the strength to sit up and try.

He greets you with a sigh. Oh no, he’s mad. You whimper and curl your arm snugger around your head. What did you do now? What is he going to do?

He nears the bed, his shadow standing over you as his presence brings a dark cloud. He shifts and sniffs, turning to sit on the edge of the bed. He puts his large hand on your shoulder and you wince. You squeeze your eyes shut.

“We need to talk, Dove,” he says.

Talk? You can’t handle it. You’d rather he just hurt you than repeat the facts. You don’t need him to tell you how bad you are, you already know.

“Sit up,” he shakes you, gently but enough to jar you.

You relent and fall onto your back. You stare at the ceiling and press your hands to the mattress. You sit up, little but little, your muscles knotted and stiff.

You hug the blanket to your chest, hiding behind it as you hunch your shoulders forward. You can’t look at Andy so you focus on the lump of your feet under the covers.

“Why do you keep lying?” He rasps.

You blink as your lip trembles, tears threatening to spring free. He’s mad again. Your entire body tenses as you brace for what comes next.

“You could’ve told me about Steve,” he lifts the shape in his lap and you glance over. It’s your tablet. “He’s your doctor, I wouldn’t have been mad.”

You sniffle and cup your chin in your hands, fingers over your mouth. You watch him turn the tablet over and slide back the cover. You don’t try to stop him or defend yourself. He’s right. About everything.

“If you needed help… with the toy or figuring things out, I was here. I am here. You could’ve asked me,” an edge creeps into his voice, “why didn’t you ask me?”

You don’t say a word. You’re trapped in your own guilt. He has the proof in his hands. You did it, you lied and betrayed him.

“The only thing I ask of you, is that you tell the truth. You haven’t, so I can’t trust you. Not until you show me I can,” Andy closes the tablet, pressing his thumb to the cover. “And maybe then you can have this back.”

You nod and hang your head. It’s easier if you just do what he wants. You’ll get used to it eventually, maybe even one day, you’ll be normal and want it too.

🕊️

“This is nice,” Andy struts into the room with a hanger in hand.

You sit on the edge of the bed where he left you. His frustration drew you out of your cocoon to shiver in the morning air. You can smell the crisp autumn seeping in around the window. There’s no point trying to figure out how long you’ve been like this, counting the days will only make it torturous.

You glance over as Andy waggles the dress at you, one of those he bought you. The bishop sleeves are almost longer than the skirt, the shade of faded plum overlaid with a translucent layer. You look at it and nod. Whatever he wants.

“You’ll have to clean up first,” he lays the dress on the bed, “it’ll help you feel better too.”

You blink and pinpoint on his chest. You can’t look him in the face. He nears you and runs his hands down your arms, sending a chill through you. He bends and twists you around to scoop you up. He hums as he lifts you against his chest.

“Aren’t you excited, honey?” He chimes.

You frown, excited? You let your head fall against his shoulder. There isn’t an ounce of strength left in you.

“Thanksgiving,” he prompts as if it’s obvious, “I got everything we need! So you can get started once you're ready. Don’t worry, I woke up early to deal with the turkey.”

He enters the bathroom and puts you down on the closed toilet. You look down at yourself. You wear his t-shirt and nothing else. He moves away to crank on the tub and quickly comes back to you. You wrinkle your nose, confused.

“Thanksgiving?” You croak.

“Uh, yeah, duh!” His tone is laced with forced enthusiasm. “Our first together.”

He tugs the hem of the shirt from under your ass and you murmur. You try to catch the cotton. He tuts and you let go. He rolls the fabric up your body and you lift your arms, surrendering.

“An…” you start to say his name but can’t get the bitter noise out. You clear your throat, “what if… I don’t feel good, I don’t know if I have the energy–”

“You’ve been in bed forever. You can get up for one day,” his timbre turns rigid, “you promised me. You promised Doctor Kemp. Do you want to let us both down?”

You close your eyes and slump. He huffs and tosses the shirt on the tile. You reach to touch your lashes and sniff back a wave of tears. It’s not just the time, the way it moves without you knowing, no, it’s him that makes you feel so helpless.

“Don’t do this,” he whispers, half a growl.

“I…” you inhale, struck by his fury, “I won’t. I’ll be good.”

You try to force a smile as you pull your hands away. Your cheeks twitch and your eyes sting, your lips just won’t curve the way you want them too. Another sigh as he stands straight. He rolls up his sleeves before he lifts you again.

He lowers you into the tube as you squeeze your legs together. You fold your arms around yourself, trying to hide, as he reaches for a scrubby and the bottle of vanilla soap. He pops the cap violently as the water bulges up towards your knees.

“Dove,” he reproaches as he grabs your arm, straightening it as he holds your wrist firmly.

You squeak as he scrubs you harshly. You hide behind your eyelids as the flash of another memory strikes you. The cold downpour of water from a screaming shower head, chattering teeth, and quaking sobs.

When he makes you stand, you curl your fingers to tight fists. As he washes you, you feel even more exposed than before. He takes his time on your chest and stomach, surprising you as he leans forward to his just beside your navel. You flinch and glance down.

“You’re beautiful, honey, you shouldn’t be so shy,” he says, “all done, sit.”

You obey and he finishes up the bath, helping you stand before wrapping you up in a soft towel. He pats you dry and moisturises your skin with the fragrant strawberry lotion. This time, he makes you walk back to the room with him.

As you consider the dress, he goes to his dresser and slides out a drawer. He comes to the bed and drops something else. You stare at the white panties and bra, see-through and speckled with little hearts.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” he says as he touches the front of his shirt, damp from the tub, “I’ll change too.”

You bite your lip and keep your chin down. You touch the dress, staring at the underwear, mortified at the thought of wearing those. Why can’t you wear something comfortable? Why can’t you be you? Why can’t he love you as you?

🕊️

Andy said Steve is coming. You don’t dare ask when as the conversation about your tablet looms over you. You don’t want him to think anything bad of the doctor. It’s not his fault, you’re just stupid.

You put your energy into following the precise instructions printed out before you. All the ingredients are set out neatly for you. It’s all manageable, even for you.

In the next room, the TV blares with the commentators on the NFL pre-game. Andy paces in and out, as if checking on you, or maybe he’s restless. You start peeling the sweet potatoes as he comes in again, looking at his watch.

“Dr. Kemp said he’d bring dessert,” Andy says, “I bought a pie just in case. If he isn’t here in the next hour, we’ll take it out of the freezer.”

“Okay,” you agree as you drag the peeler over the bumpy potato.

“You must be excited, huh, dove?”

“Um, sure, I… I like Thanksgiving. Lots of food,” you smile, you’re getting better at that. “Um, yeah.”

“What?” He tilts his head, his hands going to his hips. Oh no, he’s mad. Again.

“N-nothing, I didn’t…” you look away, “nothing.”

“It’s just Steve,” he shrugs, “I don’t have family. You know, if you bothered to ask, you might realise we’re a lot more alike than you think.”

You chew your cheek and focus on stripping the orange potato. You never did ask. You didn’t think you should. It feels nosy so it’s not that you never wondered or cared, you just don’t know what’s right.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur.

“For?”

“For not asking. Sorry that you’re alone too,” you grab the next potato.

“Not anymore, dove, we got each other, right?” He chirps, “anyway, before you get too deep into that, you should really do the snacks first. Can’t watch football without munchies.”

“Oh, I… I didn’t think…” you put the potato down and wipe your hands on the dish towel on the counter.

“Wait, wait,” he goes by the fridge and unhooks an apron hanging on the other side. “You don’t want to dirty up that pretty dress.”

“Uh, good idea.”

He puts the top strap over your head, tugging it down snug to your neck. He signals you to turn and you do. He steps close, reaching around you as he smooth the front and drags his hands to the thinner straps behind you. He ties them slowly, tickling your lower back through the dress.

“Let me see,” he steps back.

You face him and he admires you. You look down at the floral fabric with a large bow at the waist. It looks almost like a vintage dress on its own. You straighten your arms and sway as he purrs.

“That looks so good on you,” he steps closer and you plant your feet, resisting the urge to retreat. “Makes me wanna eat you up.”

Your chest racks with panic as he advances on you. He corners you against the counter as he flutters his fingers along the ruffled edge of the apron. You watch his hands creep up the fabric and gulp. Oh, again? Here? You thought you were safe.

“We got time,” his hands close on your hips, “just a little taste.”

You yelp as he takes you off your feet, perching you on the counter. Your ass knocks a bowl across the island and you brace the granite for balance. He pushes your knees apart and steps between them. You're paralysed as he cups your chin, tilting your head back as he kisses you. Suddenly.

He clamps his hand around the back of your neck, locking you against him. His other hand trails down your leg, stopping at your knee and crawling back up. He slips beneath the apron and your skirt, tendrils radiating from his touch. Your muscles spasm as you gasp.

He parts from your lips, kissing your jaw and neck, nibbling and moaning as his fingertips inch towards the trim of your panties. The cool air slips beneath your dress and through the thin fabric. You shudder as you close your eyes, trying to bury yourself inside.

“Mmmm, dove,” he shifts and nuzzles your chest.

He slowly gets to his knees, holding your legs apart as he pecks along your skin. You whimper as he edges towards your skirt, his breath dampening your thigh. He hums and pinches you with his teeth.

“Delicious,” he pokes his head under your skirt, a sudden ding breaking your trance.

He retracts, sitting back on his heels as the doorbell echoes through the house. You look down at him as he closes his eyes and grimaces. He shakes his head and pushes himself up to his feet, grunting as he stands.

“Great timing, as always,” he scoffs.

He struts out, his chagrin obvious in his posture. You push off the counter, landing awkwardly on your feet, tweaking your ankle slightly. You go to the doorway, peeking around into the hall but not daring to venture out.

Andy rolls his shoulders as he stops by the door. He heaves a breath as the doorbell chimes again. He turns back the latch and twists the handle, pulling it back.

“Andrew,” Kemp’s voice booms into the entryway, “Happy Thanksgiving!” You can’t help the way your heart topturns at his familiar timbre, “brought dessert.”

“What is she doing here?” Andy growls.

“Thanksgiving is for family, Andrew, and her family is here,” Kemp insists.

“No, I didn’t invite her–”

“Where is she?” The unseen ‘her’ asks. Your mouth falls open. Amber? “Let me see her.”

You rush forward without thinking. No fear, no doubt, you just want to see your sister. You scurry down the hall and brush by Andy, elbowing him as he reaches to stop you. You burst out through the doorway and crash into Amber, wrapping your arms around her.

“Hey,” her voice piques as she hugs you back, “hey, I’m here.”

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #don't speak #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #library au #defending jacob #fresh #steve kemp

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