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bluehoodiewoozi · 11 months

Text

Broken Pieces

Lee Jihoon x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Words: 5,3k

Warnings: protective bff & bias wrecker Choi Seungcheol; adult language; dumb and dumber, featuring awkward interactions.

[Soulmate AU] Your friend broke your soulmate's heart, leaving you to pick up the pieces of both his and your own heart.

(A spin-off / sequel to my soulmate!Kwon Soonyoung fic: "Right? Right.")

Your soulmate mark was a cat – just as your grandmother had predicted. Perhaps she knew what was good for you, perhaps she just knew you – either way she had been correct.

It was a doodle of a small fluffy cat who always seemed to be either busy or sleeping. Just like the marks of your friends, the cat went about its day on your wrist like an alive tattoo. Sometimes it slept, sometimes it read a book, sometimes it played piano – you wondered if your soulmate did the same.

The mark appeared on your sixteenth birthday and while you hoped you’d find your soulmate soon, it would be years until you saw him for the first time.

Your second year at university. That is when you met Lee Jihoon – handsome, soft-spoken, full of smiles and hope. He had chosen the same minor subject as you.

At first you thought he was just another guy you’d have a crush on – just a hopeless short-term fantasy until you’d find the perfect person. But you were proven wrong four weeks into knowing him.

“Woah, careful there,” he spoke as he gently pushed you back upright after you had stumbled in the café. Queues are dangerous, you knew that already, but suddenly they were also a blessing.

The moment his fingers touched your skin, a jolt of electricity ran through you. He seemed to pay it no mind, only offering you a friendly smile before turning back to his girlfriend.

When you looked at your mark, the cat was clawing as if to break out of your skin and run to him. When you glanced at his wrist, a similar doodle – a spotted cat – was just as excited to meet your mark.

That was when you knew – Lee Jihoon was your soulmate.

But the smile he offered to her told you that you stood no chance. Even if the fates had meant for you to meet and fall in love, your heart seemed to be meant to break.

You cried yourself to sleep that night – whether from heartbreak or from the joy of finally finding him, you weren’t sure.

Months passed of just watching him. You didn’t dare to make conversation, didn’t dare to even look at him for long. Your heart ached for him.

It was unfair to break his heart for stupid revenge. It was unfair to do his heart any harm at all. He deserved better.

Jihoon’s heart that held so much love once, and now you wondered if he would ever be able to feel love again at all – you didn’t think you would. Even just watching his heart break from the sidelines had been too painful.

“Have you considered talking to him for a change?” Seungcheol suggested when he caught you staring at Jihoon at lunch. You failed to feel any amusement at his words even as he laughed at you.

Instead, you offered him a mild glare. “You think he’d want to talk to anybody after what he went through?”

“I mean,” Seungcheol thought for a moment before grimacing, “yeah, you have a point there.”

“I always have a point, Cheol,” you told him proudly and continued eating your food. “Besides, he probably wouldn’t talk to one of her friends anyway.”

Her. Han Eunmi. The girl who claimed to be his soulmate and broke his heart into a thousand pieces before you could tell him the truth and save him.

She had been your first friend at university. Her bright eyes and sweet smile were always the first to greet you in lectures. She always saved you a seat, even to this day. But something in her changed when she met her soulmate – you could barely recognise her anymore. Your best friend was your best friend no more.

“You should just grow some balls and tell him,” Seungcheol told you once again. He was all too familiar with the distant vengeful glint in your eyes.

You wanted to kick him. “Says the one that still keeps covering his mark because of his commitment issues?”

Glancing down at the near-comical amount of chain bracelets and the raccoon doodle sniffing around under them on his wrist, he pouted at your words. “I just don’t love the thought of soulmates.”

“No,” you laughed, “you just don’t like the thought of possibly getting your heart broken.”

“Then what’s your excuse?”

Back when you first met him, you had felt so hopeful, so excited for your future. Watching him from afar was one thing, standing side-to-side with him in the café line was different. You could practically feel the fluffy cat on your wrist tugging you closer to him, scratching and jumping every time you moved your arm.

But then she had uttered those words and your world collapsed inwards: “This is my boyfriend.” Even now you feel a little nauseous thinking about the moment: the self-satisfied smile on her face, the love-sick smile on his, his arm around her waist. You couldn’t even replay the memory in your head without wanting to cry.

You glanced towards Jihoon.

“He already got his heart broken,” you mumbled to Seungcheol dejectedly. “I don’t want to add to his problems.”

“I feel like finding his real soulmate would be the opposite of a problem for that poor guy,” Seungcheol said – no, stated. He was certain of his words.

You wished they were true. With a sigh, you whispered, “Just leave it, Cheol. There’s no point anymore. If I was in his shoes, I wouldn’t even believe in soulmates anymore.”

It was obvious by the look in his eyes that Seungcheol wanted to argue. But he knew you well enough to not push it anymore.

“For this project, I need you guys to pair up,” professor Byun started, sounding about as tired as you felt in this 8 am class. Maybe he, too, craved an early coffee that he’d failed to acquire in his hurry to get to class on time. The thought made him a little more tolerable in your eyes.

“Do you guys want to pair up on your own or should I just do it myself?” he asked the class, but his eyes were practically begging you to choose the first option. Unluckily for your introvert self, the class immediately called out to pair up among themselves. He breathed out in relief just as you sighed in defeat.

“Alright, I’ll give you guys…” He glanced at his watch and nodded. “Ten minutes to pick a partner and a movie from this list. Remember to write your names next to the movie title in the shared document on so that others know it’s taken. I’ll go and get some coffee in the meantime.”

As you looked around the lecture room, you found yourself making a wish for the floor to swallow you whole.

No one in your limited friend group had picked this film studies class – most of them citing the 8 am time slot as the reason –, so who were you supposed to partner up with? A stranger who more than likely wouldn’t do any of the work or – even better and your personal favourite – would drop out of the course in the coming week and leave you without as much as a note.

“Hey,” you then heard his voice and you didn’t know whether you felt nauseous from fear or excitement. You turned your head to find Jihoon standing right there, hand on the chair next to you, a tired look on his face – the same look he’d been wearing since Eunmi crushed his heart in her hands with a giggle. He took a deep hesitant breath. “Do you want to– You don’t have to but I don’t know anyone else in this class… So, maybe, you and I–”

Though a little breathless that he was even talking to you, you straightened in your seat and nodded. “Sure, we can partner up.”

A polite smile appeared on his lips before he pulled out a chair and sat next to you. He glanced at the film list projected onto the room’s screen. “So… Do you have a particular film you want to pick for this?”

You shook your head. “I was hoping you did.”

He grimaced and chuckled. “Well, at least we’re on the same page about that.”

As if we’re soulmates or something. You almost uttered those words. You were glad you caught them before they slipped out.

“Let’s–”

“Should we–”

“Oh.” He laughed. “You go first.”

“No, you.”

“No, you–” He sighed before suggesting, “First free film on the list?”

You nodded immediately. That had been your thought as well, after all.

“So, what film is it?” he wondered, leaning over to read your laptop screen. Your rational brain wanted to shove him away; your emotional brain wanted to pull him even closer. It was hard to get anything done in that condition.

You pulled yourself together, ignoring the sweet scent of his cologne and the almost-there tickle of his hair against yours, and scrolled through the shared document. “Let’s see… The Pianist, 2002.”

Jihoon’s brows rose in surprise. “I do love pianos.”

“I doubt it has a lot to do with pianos,” you mumbled, but didn’t need any further confirmation to put your names down next to the title. Both of your names. Next to each other. Your heart stuttered at the sight.

“It has to have at least a little bit to do with pianos,” he insisted with furrowed brows. You laughed, earning a disbelieving wide-eyed look from him. “No? You’re doubting it?”

“Maybe.”

He shook his head in mock disappointment before relaxing in his chair again. “So, when do you want to work on this project? I’m free to meet on Mondays.”

It was your turn to look at him with wide eyes, lips parting in surprise. “You… want to meet? In person?”

He blinked. “Yes? Like normal people? Is there something wrong with that?”

“No, no, it’s just that–” You took a deep breath under his watchful eyes. “I figured that after what happened with Eunmi, you’d–”

“Dig myself a cave to die in? Stop socialising completely?” He sighed and looked away. “Look: as long as you don’t bring her around to our meetings, we’ll be fine. I just– I don’t even want to be in the same building as her.” His gaze was sharp when he looked at you again. “And I’m only tolerating you because of this class.”

Were words supposed to hurt like that?

“So, Monday, in the library?” he spoke again as if he hadn’t just thrown a metaphorical dagger into your heart.

You nodded. “I’ll see you Monday.”

He didn’t speak another word to you in that entire class.

Seungcheol was quick to notice your mood being more dejected than usual at lunch. Affectionate by nature, his fingers reached across the picnic table to find yours and give them a little squeeze.

The gesture only made you want to cry more: why couldn’t he be your soulmate instead?

“Did something happen in class?” he asked, eyeing you cautiously. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s nothing.” A complete lie and even he knew it.

He called out your name in a warning tone – like a father getting ready to reprimand his rebellious child. “What happened and what can we do to fix it?”

“I don’t think there’s any way to fix anything,” you mumbled and lifted your fork to your lips to take a bite of your lunch. There was no joy in the taste of your favourite meal on this day.

Seungcheol frowned. “Is this about Jihoon again? What happened this time?”

“He wanted to pair up for a project,” you told him and his expression morphed into a bright smile – one that screamed “See! I told you he’d see the light!” – but his face promptly dropped into a scowl when you added on, “and then he told me that he only tolerated me because of our film studies class.”

“He said that?” he spoke lowly.

“His exact words.” It wasn’t even like he actually intentionally broke your heart. It must have been the stupid soulmate bond acting up and making you more emotional about this than necessary. “I don’t know why I’m so sad about this.”

“He’s cruel. That’s why.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true though. He’s cruel and he’s dumb and he doesn’t deserve you.” He nodded his head in confirmation when you looked up at him again.

You scoffed out a laugh. “Why do you think he’s dumb anyway? He does well in our classes.”

“He may be academically gifted but he had his soulmate under his goddamn nose this whole time and he didn’t even realise,” he practically whined. “If that’s not dumb, I’m the king of Korea.”

You contemplated for a moment. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I should just give up this fantasy of mine and find someone who actually likes me.”

“You– I–” His frown deepened almost comically. “That is not what I meant at all.”

“You just said–”

“Stop listening to what I say!”

You rolled your eyes. “Thank god you’re not my soulmate.”

“Okay, I’m not that bad.”

“You’re awful.”

“And yet you stick around.”

Your gaze drifted to where Jihoon was seated under a maple tree with his friends. “Maybe I just have bad taste.”

[I’ll be waiting at 3 in the library. Room A232. – Jihoon]

Seungcheol mumbled something under his breath as he accompanied you to the library. Before you could ask him about it, he turned to you. “Can’t you just tell him you’re his soulmate? What’s the worst that could happen?”

You stared at him. He quickly realised the error of his words.

“I just mean that maybe he’d like to know. Maybe he’d act a little warmer towards you if he did.”

“I don’t know what you’re expecting him to treat me like,” you said. “He knows me as Eunmi’s friend. As someone complicit in the worst lie of his life. He’s treating me very nice all things considered.”

“Well, he still should know,” he decided. “If you don’t tell him, I will.”

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever you say, big guy. I’ll see you in the journalism section in a few hours?”

He sighed. “As always. Wake me up when you’re ready to go.”

And just like that, he picked a direction and headed that way – to his lonely little napping spot between shelves of journalism guidebooks. It was a good thing he got along so well with the librarians.

Though you weren’t a stranger to this library, you still felt a little out of place this time. Maybe it was the nerves of meeting Jihoon again. You hadn’t seen him even once outside of the one film studies class you both took.

Or perhaps you were just anxious about the fact that you had failed to watch the film due to reasons out of your control. Lee Jihoon was notorious for having a short fuse with his peers. You weren’t sure you could handle falling even further down his list.

The plaque on the door read A232. You double-checked it. Triple. Four times. Five–

Jihoon startled you by opening the door. “Are you going to come in or do you expect a formal invitation?”

“I… was just checking,” you mumbled and brushed past him into the little study room. You placed your things down opposite of the seat he had occupied. This was it – the end of your life. You hadn’t even said goodbye to Seungcheol. You sighed, closed your eyes in anticipation of the scolding that would follow, and confessed, “I didn’t watch the film. I’m sorry.”

You were ready for an onslaught of sharp words, the scolding of a lifetime, maybe even some screaming and him telling you that you were just as bad as Eunmi.

But it never came.

He sat down and hummed. “Yeah, I didn’t have time to watch it either.”

Dumbfounded, you opened your eyes to stare at him. He felt your gaze on him and looked up from his screen with an awkward tight-lipped smile. “What?”

“I thought you’d yell at me,” you spoke faster than your filter could catch.

He chuckled and scratched the back of his neck. “I thought you were going to yell at me.”

“What now?” you thought out loud. You hadn’t prepared for this scenario, not even close.

Jihoon made faces – scrunching up his face and frowning between silly smiles and pursed lips – as he considered the options. “We could… watch it now?”

“Like, now?”

He nodded slowly. “I don’t have any plans for the next couple of hours. Do you?” You shook your head, too speechless to actually respond. “Then let’s watch it. I have a speaker somewhere in my bag– Hold on. I’ll get it.”

Your brain was severely lagging behind. You hadn’t even realised the implications of his words. Your jaw dropped. “You mean–? You want to watch it together? Here?”

“I mean,” he paused and looked at you, “I wouldn’t mind picking a different place. We could go to the courtyard. Or a café. Well, probably not a café but–”

“There’s a lounge room on the third floor,” you blurted out. “There are sofas and a vending machine.”

Jihoon brightened up at your words. “That sounds perfect. Let’s go?”

“Sure,” you breathed out, unable to believe this was happening at all.

It took barely 5 minutes for the two of you to get to the lounge room. Jihoon was quick to occupy a three-person sofa in the corner of the room, right between the vending machine and the ceiling high window. With a victorious smile, he patted the spot next to him.

You must have been too slow for his liking because tilted his head to the side, eyes still on you. “Did you want this spot instead? I’m okay with either. Just say the word.”

You said nothing and took the spot he had previously offered. The less you spoke, the less likely you were to piss him off – it was only logical.

As you sat there and waited for him to set up his laptop and speaker, you glanced at your wrist. The fluffy cat on your skin was endlessly, tirelessly running towards him, looking back at you as if to convince you to reach for Jihoon.

You looked to his wrist instead, wondering, perhaps hoping that you’d find a similar doodle trying to get to you. Even if it just glanced, just to confirm. But his soulmate mark was hidden, covered with a black wrist support.

He glanced back at you before lifting said wrist. “Are you looking at this?”

Cursing yourself for getting caught staring, you nodded and tried to act like your ears and cheeks weren’t burning.

He shrugged. “My wrist hurts sometimes. Nothing to worry about.”

Deflecting. You knew him well enough to know that even if he was telling the truth, it was only half of one. He was lying to save his pride.

“My roommate has the same one,” you said, deciding to go along with his narrative. “She says it doesn’t help a lot though.”

“It’s the cheapest one I could find,” he replied with a shrug before turning back to his laptop, searching for the film. “Do you live at the dorms?”

“Yep.” But he knew this already. He used to visit Eunmi there, right across the hall from you. You cleared your throat and willed the thought to go away. “That’s why I didn’t manage to watch the film. I was going to watch it over the weekend, but the dormitory wi-fi was the slowest it has ever been.”

He scoffed on your behalf. “That sounds awful. What did you do in the meantime then?”

“My roommate had to bring out the board games. So, Monopoly.”

He laughed and sat back on the sofa, leaning closer to you to hear more. “That almost sounds even worse. Any friendships ruined that night?”

“No, no, you don’t understand,” you laughed along, almost forgetting you were nervous to be around him in the first place, “we played Monopoly for two days straight. The same game. It just didn’t end. My roommate and her boyfriend are no longer on speaking terms.”

“Monopoly truly does ruin relationships.” He laughed harder, almost leaning against you entirely in the fit of giggles. “Did you win? Who won?”

“I came in third place.”

“Out of three?”

You nodded shamefully as he laughed even harder, this time fully resting his head on your shoulder. He quickly leaned away though, much to your disappointment, but his giggles never ceased. It was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard.

Despite the shared laughter at your study sessions and sitting together in class, Jihoon never acknowledged you outside of the lecture room. He barely even glanced your way when you passed him in the hallways; he definitely never returned any waves or even nods. You weren’t sure whether to laugh or cry.

Seungcheol was left to gather the pieces of your confidence. Though he was vehement that there was no soulmate for him and he’d be happy being single his entire life, he refused to let you suffer the same fate.

It was already getting painful to watch you mimic his habit: hiding the fluffy cat under a variety of bracelets and wristbands, covering it with long sleeves whenever the weather allowed. Your hope had turned into anxiety in front of his very eyes and he’d be damned if he let you continue down this path.

“If you don’t tell him, I will.” – he was going to stand by these words. Even when you practically begged him not to.

“He won’t like it,” you’d told him.

“He’d be upset with the both of us,” you’d scolded him when he presented the idea again two weeks later.

“Why would he even believe you?” you’d scoffed.

He decided he’d make Jihoon believe him. So, after sending you off to class, he located your soulmate in the same lounge room you’d introduced to him. He was even resting on the same sofa.

Seungcheol stood in front of him and cleared his throat.

Jihoon straightened up immediately at that, pulling his laptop screen down. “Can I help you with something?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“About…?” Jihoon scoffed when Seungcheol offered him no further context. “Listen, if this is about something (Y/n) said or did–”

“She never told you, did she?” he asked. “You still don’t know.”

His counterpart blinked. “Know what? What is this? Do you have no one else to play mind games with?”

“Jihoon,” he sighed, “she’s your soulmate.”

His words were met with a frown. “What nonsense are you speaking now? No, first you barge in here, and now you’re making up stories– Does she know you’re here?”

“She knows I made a promise. For her.” Seungcheol closed his eyes and spoke as calmly as he could, “She’s your soulmate. She’s the little spotted cat on your wrist. You’ve been breaking her heart this entire time and I’m sick of it.”

Jihoon’s frown deepened. His hand clenched into a fist in his lap as he spoke, “If she’s– Why didn’t she say anything?”

“That you’ll have to ask her yourself. I just came here to balance the scales – it seemed unfair that she suffer with the knowledge but you break her heart with every word.” Seungcheol sighed and opened his eyes again, gaze hardening. “What you do with this knowledge is up to you. But if you break her heart any further, I will break you.”

You were blissfully unaware of your best friend’s actions. In fact, you hadn’t seen him since lunch. You had been preoccupied with making the slides of your film studies presentation more, –well–, presentable.

The courtyard was a perfect spot for drawing inspiration for slide designs: the fresh air did wonders to your brain and the constant distant chatter of your fellow students served as white noise. You were on a roll.

Who knows, you thought to yourself, maybe Jihoon will even grace you with his proud smile when you show him the presentation.

Suddenly, a strange feeling filled you. You habitually glanced down at your wrist – the cat was standing on his hind legs, as if trying to peek over a fence to see what was in front of you. Like he was expecting his owner back from a long trip.

“So it really is you,” you then heard his voice.

Your head snapped up to look at Jihoon standing right in front of you, his eyes trained on his own wrist – miraculously uncovered this time, the usual black band crumpled in his other hand.

Your voice and words betrayed you, they left you fighting in the battle field all alone. You gulped. Instead of acknowledging his words, as if doing so would make the situation disappear, you turned your laptop his way. Your voice wavered as you told him, “I made some changes to the slides. Thought it would look better if we made them prettier. What do you think?”

But Jihoon kept staring at his wrist as if you weren’t even there. How could he not stare at the spotted cat he’d spent all these years mindlessly glancing at, following, and talking to in the moonlight? The cat who had once stood for a broken dream now stood for a new hope.

Finally, he tore his eyes from the cat – the mark of you – and looked at you instead. There was something so incredibly sorrowful about the look in his eyes, you could barely fight the urge to cry. He didn’t bother to do the same.

A tear slipped down his cheek as he shakily breathed out. “You could’ve told me, (Y/n). Why wouldn’t you– Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was afraid,” you confessed, avoiding his eyes. “I didn’t think you’d want to know. Not after what she did to you.”

He scoffed. “You watched her lie and break my heart and it never occurred to you to just… tell me? To just say you were the one? That I was looking the wrong way?”

You wanted the ground to take you away. It would’ve hurt less than this confrontation. All of these eyes curiously watching from a distance, the whole campus witnessing him breaking your heart – it was too much. Even if he was right to be mad.

“Jihoon…”

“What were you so afraid of?” he wondered, frown deepening and voice raising by the word. “That I would reject you in favour of her? That she would stop being your friend because you foiled her plans? I don’t know if you’ve noticed but she’s clearly not a good friend so why are you still siding with her?!”

“I’m not!”

“It sure seems that way!”

You glared at him. “I stopped talking to Eunmi the minute she told me what she had done!”

Jihoon expression softened at your words. So did yours. You sniffled. “I had already let her go too far because she was the only friend I had when I first came here. She was the only friend I had known. I didn’t want to lose both my best friend and my soulmate. I thought–” You took a deep breath and avoided his eyes. “I thought if I couldn’t have my soulmate, I’d at least have a loyal friend who wouldn’t let me feel lonely. I was mistaken.”

Running his fingers through his hair, he sighed. His arm dropped, his eyes following as if to make sure the spotted cat remained.

“You should’ve told me,” he whispered once again before stepping closer, crouching to your level. He sighed once more. Then you felt warm fingers around your wrist. “Had you told me–”

“Just reject me and be done with it,” you begged. “Don’t make this even worse. I deserve my heart shattered, but at least make it quick.”

He frowned. “You didn’t even let me finish.”

“Then finish quicker. I still have a presentation to–”

“Had you told me,” he started again, more assertively this time, his hand holding yours tightly as if to anchor you to him, “I would’ve rejected her and run to you back then already. I would’ve believed you without any hesitation. But seeing as that didn’t happen,” he sighed and you braced yourself for a proper heartbreak, “I guess we’ll just have to make up for lost time.”

Your heart stopped beating. At least it felt like it did. Your eyes widened while searching his. Instead of a scowl or a frown or a glare, you found yourself on the receiving end of a fond smile.

Your jaw dropped. “Are you serious?!”

“As serious as Seungcheol is about breaking me if I break your heart,” he promised with a soft laugh. His fingers still never left your hand, only sliding down to lock with yours.

You groaned and closed your eyes in despair. “...He’s the one that told you.”

“I’m glad he did,” he laughed, “because I don’t think you would’ve told me for a while, and I certainly wouldn’t have figured it out anytime soon.”

“We’re both dumb, aren’t we?” you mumbled, finally opening your eyes again once the embarrassment faded.

“Complete idiots, the both of us.”

“Soulmates,” you joked.

“Soulmates,” he confirmed with a laugh.

You still wondered though. “Why aren’t you more mad at me?”

He shrugged and sat down next to you, shoulder to shoulder, on purpose this time. “I thought I was at first. But I don’t think you’re at fault for what Eunmi did to me. You were just trying your to be a good friend.” Seeing your sheepish smile, he nudged you playfully before whispering, “Plus, I’m not entirely sure I could take Seungcheol in a fight.”

You laughed. “I guess that’s one perk of being his friend.”

Jihoon smiled. “He seems like a great friend. I like him better than I liked Eunmi.”

“I do too.”

“What do you say we give this a proper try?” he suggested, holding out his hand for you to take, the doodle-like cat on his wrist full on display.

You smiled. When you lifted your hand to meet his, the fluffy cat rushed to meet his spotted one where your skin touched. Their noses pressed together happily, the cats nuzzling into each other’s necks after finally meeting each other after all this time of being so close but never close enough.

“I’d like that,” you told him and he breathed out in relief.

With the awkward distance out of the way, sitting beside him didn’t feel as nerve-wracking as it once had. It felt natural to be in his presence now. You wondered if you’d be drawn to him soon, just as your soulmate marks were drawn to each other.

“How did you find me here anyway?” you asked him after a moment of silence.

He shrugged. “I followed the cat. Figured that if Seungcheol was right, the mark would lead me right to you.” He gestured around. “It did.”

“Huh.” You pursed your lips in thought before giggling. “I guess I should’ve tried that when I was looking for you earlier.”

“Earlier? Today?” he wondered.

You remembered your laptop all of a sudden, pulling it closer to the two of you. “I made some changes to our presentation. I wanted to show you and then we could maybe work on it a little. Hold on.”

“Right now?” He seemed amused at the idea when you nodded. “Sure, we could do that. Or, – hear me out –, we could go on a little date to make up for lost time.”

But as tempting as that sounded…

“The presentation is due tomorrow morning, Jihoon.”

He grimaced. “Brunch date tomorrow then?”

“... I could fit that into my schedule.”

Note: I only wrote this so I'd have an excuse to later write cute university boyfriend / soulmate Jihoon fics as sequels lol

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen fic #seventeen x reader #seventeenweeklyarticle #woozi scenarios #woozi x reader #lee jihoon x reader #lee jihoon scenarios

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chandeliermichel · 5 months

Note

Hey inkio- 👁️🫦👁️

SO, here's a request for you hehehe, headcanons on the ikevil characters teaching a foreigner MC english, having to correct their grammar constantly and seeing their annoyed face. It can be any character you want (oh but pls do add Roger for all the Roger simos out there they have been parched lately and ofc my Harrison 😌)

I HOPE ITS NOT TOO MUCH 😭 LOVE YOU BAE AND THANK YOU MUAH

MY BAE, MY LOVE, MY SWEETHEART ~ whipped these fresh headcanons for you :D and the roger simps cuz yall are too starved atp

Synopsis: Kate is an immigrant and hardly knows the basics of English. How will she communicate with them and how will they teach their language to her?

Italics are used to indicate Kate/MC's language.

- Teaching Foreigner!Kate English

William Rex

When he met her on that fateful night, when stars covered the cloudless sky, and she stood there shaking... William knew she didn't understand him.

And no, it wasn't because Kate was terrified of the scene in front of her -- she was, well, but her vocabulary was so small and her ability to speak English wasn't good at all so she was having great trouble understanding what he was saying.

"You...!" She pointed at him when they sat in the dining hall, then stopped, as if searching hard for her words.

William thought her frustrated expression was charming.

Kate clicked her tongue and shook her head in defeat. "You... um... me die?" She then sighed. This darn language is too confusing! I didn't know I was going to get into this situation... it hasn't even been that long since I came to London. Being an immigrant is hard...

William chuckled. "No, Kate. You won't die. No one here will lay a hand on you."

She looked at him in surprise. Oh, so her ability to listen was better? That's good.

They started hanging around each other more. Kate accompanied him on his missions and she realized, much to her surprise, that she loved William's company.

He was patient, sweet, and always willing to help her learn the language. Even after they became lovers and expressed their feelings for each other, this little "tradition" of theirs continued.

Mostly in the comfort of his room, where William and Kate sat on the bed and he wrote down words on a note-book and explained sentences and structures to her.

"What's this?" She questioned.

William adored her unique accent. He smiled, "This?" And explained it to her.

She smiled up at him. "Will! I... I understand!" He smiled back.

Ah yes, he would go over these small things a million times if it meant she will look at him with that sweet, enticing smile of hers.

"You deserve a prize for being so smart, my lovely robin." And he captured her lips with his.

Roger Barrel:

Kate started calling him 'doctor' after learning what his profession was. Roger kept telling her that he was a former doctor but Kate insisted. Using the word doctor was easier any way.

She stayed around him like a little duckling. When he asked why, she didn't understand and tilted her head in confusion.

Roger sighed with a small smile. Then said, slowly, "Why... do ... you... stay... around... me?"

Kate laughed. "Doctor is nice."

He kept staring at her. Gosh, this girl was too defenseless. Saying something so sweet to him without a care in the world...? What was going to become of her, he wondered.

Roger shook his head and bent down to match her height. "Little lady, you are an idiot."

"No, it's Roger who is dumb!"

"Hmm, what did you say?"

"You called me dumb but I think you are dumber than me." She gave him a toothy grin, "You... dumb."

He laughed and went back to his work. Gone were the days when Kate used to be a shy maiden. Now she was comfortable in his company and shared her thoughts with him without trouble.

They often had trouble communicating, however, but Roger knew she understood him when he spoke slowly. He was always busy conducting experiments and dealing with missions but whenever he had time, he taught Kate the basics of conversing.

"Okay, Kate, write me a sentence."

She nodded her head.

"The pickle was... colored curious?" Roger gave her a puzzled look. She nodded, looking proud.

"Haha, I guess it works. Good job, little lady. You improve each day."

And when he smiled at her as the evening sun kissed his profile, and his eyes glimmered with emotions, Kate felt her heart speeding up.

"Crap...! Doctors are meant to cure diseases but I think my heart will burst if he keeps looking at me!"

"What was that?"

"You still dumb, Roger."

Harrison Grey:

It's hard to converse with her. So, so hard. Harrison was born in London, English was his first language, everyone there spoke English so it was a little baffling to see that Kate BARELY understood what he said.

Most of the time it would be her staring at him with wide eyes and as if the gears in her head were processing what she heard.

He sighed. She was hopeless and Harry took it upon himself to teach her. He didn't care for her (he did), he just felt pity for the girl. That's all.

He read her books, explained each and every meaning when he had time, wrote down the words on a note-pad, and gave her daily tasks... not because her smile was sweet when she succeeded and gave him a toothy smile... or that his heart did flip flops when she let out happy noises.

No. None of that. Harrison wasn't catching feelings. Especially not for the girl who didn't even understand what he was saying.

But they soon fell in love. Both understood the weight of their feelings and the intensity. There was an electric spark between them, as if fire could start at any moment.

After they became a couple, Harry continued teaching her and he was proud that she was learning so quickly.

He would whisper stories in her ear as they would lay in bed, loving how her blush intensified with every word, and Harrison Grey was a tease so he wasn't going to stop.

"Kate, what's the difference between like and love?"

"Hmm... difference?" She muttered. "Harry likes strawberry milk."

"Correct. Did you notice what I love?"

Can I say me? No no! He will think I am weird!

"I love you."

SHIT! He's too good at this!

Yes, he loved seeing her flustered.

#ink writes #ikemen villain #ikevil x reader #harrison grey x reader #liam x reader #victor x reader #ellis x reader #roger x reader #william x reader #jude x reader

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starryevermore · 1 year

Text

sweet memories ✧ benoit blanc

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

request: Either 3 separate ideas or all together into one: (for Knives out/Glass onion. Any character but probs best for detective Blanc)

● Getting drunk/tipsy and reminiscing their time in their training

● Blanc (?) and reader on a case and one of them gets severely hurt and it’s a choice of whether they continue to chase suspect or help the other

● one of them trying to re-enact what theoretically could have happened on a case, person b paying no attention to this, and suddenly person A is in front of them trying different death methods. Someone walking in and being horrified. Person B saying sorry, person A saying it’s normal. - anon

pairing: benoit blanc x male!reader

summary: you and benoit reminisce on your relationship.

word count: 1,613

warnings?: minor spoilers for glass onion, maybe slightly out of character benoit, established relationship, fluff, gunshot wound, mention of murder, not proofread

Benoit Blanc had not changed much since you had last seen him, you mused. Still had his beautiful, piercing blue eyes. Still had a brain that run a million miles a minute. Still managed to impress you with every single thing he does. It was almost unfair, how perfect the man sitting across from you was. At least he had one fault that you knew of. At least you could still pull out the fact that you’ve beat him at every single game of Clue you played against him. He always hated when you did that, arguing that he wasn’t good at dumb games so it wasn’t fair to keep holding that over his head. But with that sparkling twinkle in his eyes, you knew he didn’t really mean it. Benoit was a teasing man—around you, at least. To the rest of the world, he was the world’s greatest detective. But to you, he was ole Benny, an awkward fella who was a far shout from the greatest at anything.

“Ain’t seen you in a while,” he said, looking at you over the rim of his glass as he took a long sip of his drink. He set the glass down, smacking his lips. “You solve any good mysteries lately?”

“Nothing as great as you,” you said. “I mean, showing the world that Miles Brown is a complete nitwit? You’re really taking that whole eat-the-rich thing to heart.”

Benoit waved you off, shaking his head. “It was dumber than a game of Clue. Man didn’t even have the ability to come up with an original murder. Stole all his ideas from everyone.”

“Well, look on the bright side. At least you finally won a game of Clue,” you teased, leaning forward, resting your elbows on the table. “Never thought I’d see the day. Someone should put that in the history books, you know. Benoit Blanc: World’s Greatest Detective, Bested by Clue Except for that One Time.”

“That’s a terrible title for a book. Nobody’d pick it up.”

“I would.”

“Probably ‘cause you’d be the one writin’ it.”

You hummed, taking a sip of your drink. “Someone’s gotta expose you as the dork you truly are. Everyone acts like you’re some James Bond type o’ figure. They deserve to know you’re more of…I don’t know. Who’s the silliest character you can think of?”

Benoit hummed. “Clark Kent?”

“I said silliest character, not the character you’ve got the hots for!” you laughed.

“Oh, come on! The whole glasses disguise? Seriously? No one ever thought, hey this guy looks kinda sorta similar to Superman? I refuse to believe that!”

“Not everyone is as brilliant as you, Benny boy,” you said. You took another sip of your drink. “God, I hate Superman. Remember that one time, when we were working a case together? The jewelry heist case?”

Benoit’s face turned red. He probably didn’t like thinking of that case very much. You couldn’t blame him, if you were being honest. You didn’t like to think of it, either. “You know I could never forget that case.”

“All I really remember of it is bein’ in the hospital. They had stupid Superman movie playing all the time. Man of Steel, or somethin’? I used to like it before, but god, a guy can only watch that shit so many times before it gets annoyin’. I swear, if I see Henry Cavill put on that super suit again, it’d be too soon.”

“I’d prefer to remember it as the day I realized I love you,” Benoit said.

You let out a laugh. “What, it took me being on my death bed to realize you loved me?”

It had been a complete and utter disaster. It wasn’t often that you and Benoit worked together on a case. But this was a tough nut to crack, so Benoit invited you along, telling the client that if she wanted the case to be solved, it was imperative you be there, too. The client hadn’t really been willing, but recognized she had no real choice in the matter so she bit her tongue. After all, she wanted to make sure she was not the victim in the jewelry heist.

Things had gone well enough, if you were being honest. After a few false starts and some misleading clues, you and Benoit were close to triumphant. But neither of you could have expected the suspect to have a gun, much less use it.

He’d been aiming at Benoit. You panicked, your blood running cold. Before you could even think about what you were doing, you jumped and positioned yourself between Benoit and the bullet. It struck you, lodging itself in your side. You screamed as you fell, hitting the floor, hard.

Pain practically blinded you as you reached up, touching your wound. When you pulled your hand away, it was sticky with blood. You lifted your head, seeing Benoit falling to his knees, his hand covering your wound, applying pressure. You twisted your head the best you could, watching as the suspect ran.

“Go,” you whispered. You couldn’t manage to make your voice any louder. Took too much energy. “You’re gonna lose him. We won’t get another chance like this.”

“I can’t lose you,” Benoit said.

“I’ll be fine, go get him.”

“Don’t make me leave you,” Benoit whispered, leaning over you, his lips ghosting over your forehead. “I love you. I can’t lose you. I love you.”

“It was an emotional moment!” Benoit argued. “It ain’t strange for things to be revealed in times of high stress, you know.”

“I know,” you said. You reached over, grabbing his hand, giving it a squeeze. “I just hate that it took you so long. To think we might have gotten together a lot sooner if I told you I loved you when I realized.”

Benoit let out a laugh so loud it practically shook the walls of the kitchen. “Oh, come on. At least when I realized, it had a sort of morbid romantic edge. Yours was just me being an idiot!”

“Well, I love when you’re an idiot.”

It was the early days in your friendship. You and Benoit had often worked together back then, honing your detective skills, bouncing ideas off each other. It felt less like a job that way. It felt more like playing a game of Clue (despite Benny’s aversion to the game). In any case, it was more fun that way. Plus, it gave you and Benoit a chance to develop some more unconventional methods of solving cases. Which is exactly what you were doing.

You and Benoit were working out how the victim may have died. You had narrowed down to a few different murder weapons that might have been it, but you and Benoit couldn’t quite figure out how it had happened. So, it was only natural that the two of you ran through some different scenarios in an effort to narrow some the possibilities.

That was how you ended up straddling Benoit, who laid on his back on the floor, his hands above his head as if he were surrendering. Your breath caught in your throat at the position. You liked it—you like it a lot. But you forced yourself to ignore the thought about what it may be like if you were in this same position with a little less clothes. You had to remain professional. You had to.

You raised your hand holding the prop knife, acting like you were going to drive it through Benoit’s chest. As you brought it down, the fake blade pushing itself into the handle, you frowned. This didn’t make sense. The victim had been fighting back, and this position didn’t give much opportunity to do it. “No, I don’t think it was like this. Here, trade places with me.”

You lifted yourself off of Benoit and laid on the floor. Benoit straddled you now. Your breath hitched as he reached down, his hands closing around your throat.

“The victim had injuries on her hands, like someone’d been tryin’ to pry her hands off of ‘em,” Benoit said.

“When the killer couldn’t do that, they kneed her in the stomach,” you continued, bring your leg up, pressing your knee into Benoit’s stomach.

“And then—”

The door opened. There was a shout. Benoit lifted his head, his face tinted red as he looked at the person who walked inside.

“Oh, god!” the person said. It was your client. Fuck. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean t-to see anything!”

“Oh, it’s not like that!” Benoit said. “We’re just tryin’ to act out the murder!”

You cleared your throat, trying to twist your head to look at her. “Totally normal. All the professionals do it.”

“I-I’ll leave you it then…”

She left as quick as she came, shutting the door behind you. As you and Benoit looked at each other again, you felt like your face was burning.

“Um, so that seems like it was the way it happened…” you mumbled.

“Right, right,” Benoit said, getting off of you. “Uh, with that done, we should start narrowing down the suspects, then.”

You nodded. “Yeah. Just give me a moment and I’ll be ready.”

Because, holy fuck, how could you be in a position like this and just expect to continue on as normal?

“If you love your idiot so much then, how ‘bout you join me in the bath, then?” Benoit asked. “Gets a bit lonely in there, you know.”

Your snorted. “Fine. But we’re not staying there for a week, alright?”

“I’m sure I could convince you otherwise.”

“We’ll see.”

Oh, how you loved your silly little detective.

#benoit blanc imagine #benoit blanc x reader #benoit blanc x male!reader #benoit blanc x you #benoit blanc x y/n #benoit blanc fic #benoit blanc fanfiction #benoit blanc fan fiction #benoit blanc fanfic #benoit blanc fan fic #starrywrites #starryevermore

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angelicamerlinbarnes · 3 years

Text

I just want Severus being a protective dad to Harry. Like,

(or, some conversations i think should happen.)

Year One

Severus: It’s not me, Harry.

Harry: But Dad, you like magical shiny things -

Severus: Harry. Go bother Professor Quirrell.

One book later…

Severus, storming through the castle on a rampage: WHO THE FUCK HIRED THAT TURBAN BITCH WHO TRIED TO KILL MY SON?!

Year Two

Harry: They’re going after Muggleborns. Like Mom and Hermione.

Severus: *pen snaps in his hand under desk* Hm. I’ll take care of it, Harry.

In Mcgonogall’s office later with her and Dumbledore…

Severus: My son is coming home with me whether you like it or not. And I’m inviting every other student too.

Dumbledore: We have everything under control.

Mcgonogall: Severus, I hate to break this to you, but four thousand students are not just going to follow you home.

Severus: *laser eyes ignite* They will if I offer them free A’s and no homework. And I think you’re forgetting that my son is the Chosen One, Minerva.

Mcgonogall: Bitch if you think I won’t slap you -

Dumbledore: *snores loudly*

The rest of the book later…

Severus: You are never allowed to speak Parseltongue again.

Harry: Then how will we talk when you’re in your Animagus form?

Severus: *mocking Harry’s voice* Then how will we talk when you’re in your Animagus form? We won’t, you idiot! I only do that for incredibly dangerous missions or to get some goddamn alone time!

Harry:

Harry: *starts to tear up*

Severus: Oh no. Oh no no no. Harry, no, don’t cry, not the crying, I didn’t mean, fuck, love, no, I, Harry -

Year Three

Harry: Dad, um… Professor Lupin invited me for tea.

Severus, without looking up from drawing smiley faces all over graded tests: Yes, yes. Go see him. Don’t be late. And tell him a good strong “fuck you” from me.

Half a book later…

Severus: I can’t believe you laughed at that paper’s comment on my nose.

Harry: Dad -

Severus: I did not marry James Potter and Lily Evans so our son could make fun of me. I have not dragged myself through thirteen years of your incessant crying and misplaced sarcasm to have you laugh at my nose. I could have killed myself Harry. You could have grown up with Petunia.

Harry: Dad, I’m sorry -

Severus, huffing and dropping down in his chair and turning his back on Harry: My only son. A traitor!

Harry: *groans*

The other half of the book later…

Severus: SIRIUS. THIS IS WHY YOU LET ME COME UP WITH THE PLANS.

Sirius: Snape -

Severus: SHUT UP YOU FOUL-BREATHED HEATHEN. COULD YOU NOT HAVE HAD THE COMMON DECENCY TO AT LEAST CLUE REMUS IN ON YOUR LITTLE PLAN?

Remus, stepping in front of Sirius: Now, Severus -

Severus, angrily pointing at them: NO! NO. HE’S YOUR HUSBAND, THAT MAKES YOU COMPLICIT. WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING?

Hermione: Uh, guys? Full moon?

Remus and Sirius: Shit.

Severus, already rolling up his sleeves and tugging his idiot son and said idiot son’s idiot friends out of the Shack: Come meet James, she said. It’ll be fun, she said. They’re not that bad, she said…

Year Four

Severus: No.

Harry: I didn’t put my name in there, believe me, but Dumbledore says -

Severus: Fuck Dumbledore. I’m your father and I said no.

Harry: Dumbledore says there’s wards -

Severus: No.

Harry: But -

Severus: No.

Harry: Dad -

Severus: No.

Most of a book later in Severus’ office…

Harry, curled against Severus’ robes: Dad, he just… and Cedric… he’s back… it’s all my fault - *bursts into tears*

Severus: *kisses the top of Harry’s head* Nonsense. I’ll protect you, love. You’re gonna be just fine. And Voldy dearest can just fuck right off if he thinks he can get to the son of James Potter and Severus Snape and Lily fucking Evans -

Harry: *laughs wetly and wipes his eyes and nose on Severus’ robes*

Severus: *withholds disownment*

Rest of the book later in Dumbledore’s office…

Dumbledore: *sighs* Severus -

Severus: *whirls around and points angrily* NO. I DON’T WANNA HEAR IT ALBUS. DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY FUCKING TIMES MY SON HAS NARROWLY AVOIDED DEATH IN YOUR SCHOOL? I WANT MORE SECURITY PROTOCOLS AND I WANT THEM NOW.

Dumbledore: *face scrunches up like a lemon* You want me to… what, Harry-proof the school?

Severus: *crosses arms over chest* Yes.

Dumbledore: *sighs* Severus -

Year Five

Severus: She did what.

Harry: *swallows nervously* Um. Nothing, Dad, just a blood quill -

Severus: A FUCKING WHAT NOW?!

Five minutes later…

Hermione: Harry? Why is your father cussing out Professor Umbridge and hexing her luggage when she’s not looking in the courtyard?

Ron: Yeah, and why’d I see him pay Fred and George like five hundred galleons in the hallway back there?

Harry, watching his father literally throw Umbridge down the steps while still shouting curse words in languages Harry didn’t even know existed: *facepalms*

Most of a book later…

Harry, sobbing and limping towards Severus: Dad… Dad, she killed… Dad, Sirius… *sobs brittlely*

Severus: *kisses the top of Harry’s head and pushes him gently into Remus’ shaking arms* Nonsense, love. Now, where’s the stupid veil?

Remus: *points trembling finger*

Severus: *nods sharply*

Severus: *returns ten minutes later dragging a soaking wet and violently shaking but otherwise fine Sirius Potter Lupin behind him* Found him.

Remus: *immediately pulls Sirius into the filthiest kiss of his life*

Severus: *wrinkles his nose* You’re welcome.

Harry: *laughs wetly and buries his face in Severus’ robes* Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you -

Severus: *awkwardly pats head* Um. Sure.

Unseen epilogue we all wanted…

Severus: I now pronounce you Dumb and Dumber.

Harry: *nudges Severus* Dad.

Severus: *huffs* Husband and husband, whatever.

Sirius: *grins devilishly and dips Remus back in a kiss*

Harry: *claps enthusiastically*

Severus: *gags to hide his face as he wipes away a tear*

At the reception…

Harry: *puts a flowercrown of lilies on Severus’ head*

Severus: I’m disowning you. You’re no longer my son. Enjoy homelessness, bitch -

Harry: Mum and Dad would like it.

Severus, now bright red and squeaky: Ah. Well. Fuck you.

Harry: *leans his head on Severus’ shoulder* I love you, Dad.

Severus, grumbling: You suck, kid.

Year Six

Severus: Give me your wand.

Harry: Dad -

Severus: Give me your wand.

Harry: Dad, Draco deserved it -

Severus: *shoots up and leans over the desk* Harry James Potter Evans Snape. No one deserves what you just did. What you just did was moronic, stupid, and above all, cruel. I know you’ve heard the stories about your idiot father and you know better than that, Harry. You are better than that. And if you want to make your parents proud, and I know you do, this incident will never be repeated. Do you understand?

Harry, in tears: Yes, Dad.

Severus, through gritted teeth: Yes, what?

Harry: Yes, I understand and I won’t do it again.

Severus: *sits back in his chair* Good. Now give me your wand.

Harry: *hands over wand*

Harry: *sniffs*

Severus, sighing and standing up: Come here.

Harry: *shuffles into his arms*

Severus: *kisses his head* I love you, kid.

Harry, sniffling: Mmph.

Severus: *closes his eyes* And I’m proud of you. We all are.

Harry: *laughs wetly and shoves his face into Severus’ robes* We’re proud of you too, Dad.

A quarter of a book later…

Harry: Hey Dad, I found this awesome book and I don’t know who wrote it but -

Severus: Give that to me, Harry.

Harry: But Dad! This thing is literally the only reason I’m passing Potions at all -

Severus: I know. Because you told Minerva you want to be an Auror. Now that, Mr. Potter, is a fucking lie, and you shouldn’t be taking Potions anymore. So. What do you really want to do?

Harry:

Harry: I wanna be the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.

Severus: There you go. But bitch, if you get the position before me -

Harry: Dad -

Severus: And if you tell anyone who wrote this book I swear to Merlin I’ll make sure you meet your parents far earlier than expected -

Harry: The Half-Blood Prince? Why? Do you know him?

Severus:

Severus: I’m raising a dumbass.

Half a book later…

Harry: *bursts rudely into Severus’ office* Dad, Draco -

Severus: I know, Harry.

Harry: No, you don’t, this time I’m actually -

Severus: I know, Harry.

Harry: Dad, he’s -

Severus: *finally looks up from grading papers* Harry. I know. It’s okay.

Harry, sputtering: It’s not okay -

Severus: Harry, love. I don’t lie to you.

Harry:

Harry: I know. Okay.

Severus: *looks back down at his papers* Just don’t be dick.

Harry: I do not -

Severus: *raises his eyebrow*

Harry: Yes, Dad.

Three quarters of a book later…

Severus: So. Harry. I heard you’re dating Ginny Weasley.

Harry: No. Nope. I’m not.

Severus: I see. Well, either way -

Harry: Oh no.

Severus: Oh, yes. We need to have this conversation; you’re a growing sixteen year old boy. Of course, as your body grows there will be things -

Harry, bright red: No. No no no. Oh my god, Dad -

Severus, maintaining intense eye contact: When two or more people love each other very much, like your parents and I did -

Harry: *bolts right up* Dad, I will go to the Astronomy Tower and throw myself off right the fuck now if you don’t shut up, I swear to Merlin.

Severus: Good. Now, about protection -

Harry: I’ll do it.

Severus: So you’ve said. Madame Pomfrey has -

Harry: *throws his hands up in the air* I’m not even dating anyone!

Severus: *gives him a look* Of course people will be lining up eventually, you are the Chosen One after all.

Severus: *gives Harry a once-over and smirks*

Severus: Though I do wonder how you plan to defeat You-Know-Who when you can’t even sit through a discussion about the protection charms your mother cast when she sacrificed herself for you.

Harry:

Harry: OH MY GOD DAD THAT’S NOT FUNNY -

Severus: *giggling manically*

The rest of the book later…

Harry: Dad. No. Please, no.

Severus: I’m sorry, Harry.

Severus, externally: *looks at Dumbledore* Avada Kedavra.

Severus, internally: That’s what you get for hurting my son, you shitty old bitch.

Year Seven

Hermione: Harry, you need to talk about it.

Harry, setting up a tent “successfully”: Talk about what? I’m fine.

Hermione: *sighs* Your dad.

Harry: Okay. You wanna talk about your Obliviated parents?

Hermione:

Harry: Yeah, that’s what I thought.

Ron: *accidentally knocks the tent over*

Meanwhile, Severus…

Severus, staring blankly at the Carrows: What son.

Carrow #1: *sneers* Your son. Harry Potter.

Severus:

Severus: You think I raised that idiot?

Carrow #2: That’s… actually a fair point.

Severus: *huffs and crosses his arms over his chest*

Severus: *flips hair*

Severus, internally: Damn right it is, bitch.

Severus, externally: See? Obviously not my son.

Carrow #1, snickering: Plus no one would ever sleep with you.

Severus: *turns his head slowly so he can glare right into Carrow #1’s eyes*

Severus, in that dangerous, painfully slow drawl of his: Of course not. Carrot.

In Mcgonogall’s office at three a.m….

Severus: Where is he?

Mcgonogall: I don’t know, Severus.

Severus: But he’s alive, right?

Mcgonogall, sighing: If he wasn’t we’d have heard by now.

Severus, pacing: Right. Right. He’s fine. He’s fine. Har - he’s fine.

Half a book later…

Severus, poking his head into the Gryffindor common room at like two a.m.: Hello? Y’all coming?

Ginny, stepping forward while the rest of Gryffindor rallies behind her with small bags and pillows: Yeah.

Severus, creeping into the Hufflepuff dorms: Marshmallows? You guys ready?

Hufflepuffs, in perfect chorus as they gather with blankets and stuffies: Yes, Professor.

Severus, knocking on the Ravenclaws’ doors: Yo, smartasses, it’s time.

Luna, hugging a stuffed white rabbit with the rest of Ravenclaw behind her: Hi, Professor.

Severus: *heart melts a little bit* Hello, Luna.

Severus: *leads them all to the Room of Requirement under a mass invisibility spell*

Severus: *gets them all settled for a long-term sleepover*

Severus, straightening up: Okay. Anyone want goodnight hugs?

A few pages later…

Severus: You have a list for me?

Draco, handing over a piece of parchment: It’s alphabetized.

Severus: Hm. Thank you.

Severus: *reads list*

Severus: Get Zabini to put Zonko’s products in the bed of everyone on this list. Have Pansy get the rest of you prepped on the plan. If you’re all still on board, that is.

Draco: *shrugs* We may be Slytherins, sir, but we’re not cowards.

Severus: *eyes suddenly shiny* No. No, you’re not.

Most of a book later I think I haven’t read them in years…

Harry: You killed him.

Severus: *pleads with his eyes*

Harry: How dare you stand where he stood?

Severus, internally: FUCK why do I have to be the tortured one??? Kiss me, James said. Marry me, James said. Let’s have a kid, James said. This is all his fault. I swear Jamie when I die I am going to kill you. You fuckwad -

Severus, externally: *starts shooting harmless spells at Mcgonogall*

Quite a bit later…

Severus, internally: Fuck, I hate snakes. Why is that my Animagus? I already have this shitty tattoo and I’m in the snake House why do I need to die by a fucking snake too oh look my son’s here that’s humiliating

Harry, overwhelmed with tears: Dad -

Severus, internally: I’m fine go away jeez

Severus, externally: *gurgles*

Harry: *flurries his hands around Severus’ body uselessly*

Hermione, exasperated: Harry, move.

Harry, blubbering now: *whimpers* Mione -

Hermione, wand out and pointed at Severus’ wounds: Harry, move.

Two minutes later…

Severus, freshly healed and more than a little pissed off: Now let’s go tell that snake ass motherfucker to go fuck himself -

Harry, clinging to him desperately: Daddy you can’t -

Severus: Like fuck I can’t. That slimy ass shitwipe killed my spouses, tried to kill me, and has gone after you for your entire life as if you don’t have enough shit to deal with already so yeah I’m gonna go murder him.

Harry, burying his face in Severus’ robes: Dad, I have to go.

Severus: No, you don’t.

Harry: It’s the right thing to do.

Severus: Since when I have cared about the right thing?

Harry: Since always.

Severus:

Severus: You’re grounded for the rest of your life after you survive this.

Harry: *laughs wetly* Dad, I’m not gonna -

Severus: *kisses his forehead* I love you, Harry.

Harry: I love you, Dad.

*dead silence*

Hermione: Harry. We have to go.

Harry, whispering: Keep them safe, Dad.

Severus, also whispering: Of course, love.

Idontevenfuckingknow later…

Voldemort: Harry Potter is dead!

Everyone: *crying*

Severus, internally: The fuck no he’s not like you could kill my son.

Severus, externally: *stares at Voldemort*

Five minutes later…

Harry: Expelliarmus!

Severus: I KNEW IT

The end…

Harry: Hi, Dad.

Severus, tugging him into a hug: You’re grounded forever you fucking idiot.

Harry, grinning and hugging back: Yeah, I figured as much.

A little bit after the end…

Remus: You did a good job.

Sirius: You really did. I can’t say I’m not surprised.

Severus, internally: I can’t believe I saved your life you fucking dick.

Severus, externally: I know.

367 notes · View notes

beigehearts · 3 years

Text

Yandere adult trio when you break up with them (as in they were pretending to be innocent boyfriends but then you’re like okay bye) drabbles

CW: physical abuse

Hisoka

You’ve been thinking about this for a while, his behavior has gotten out of hand. He’s so protective and possessive that you can barely have a conversation with someone on the phone without him sitting right next to you. As much as you love him, you can’t keep living like this, with him constantly asking you where you’re going or what you’re doing even if you’re just getting up for some water.

When Hisoka gets home from whatever it is he does outside, you ask him to have a seat across from you at the dining table. He raises and eyebrow but does as you ask.

“Is something wrong pet?” He slides down in the chair and bounces his leg.

Hesitantly you clear your throat and nod, “You know I love you right?” There’s a hint of a smile on his lips when you ask, and he hums a yes.

“I’ve tried talking to you about this but you’re not very receptive...” You look down at your hands in your lap. “It’s hard to be around you now that you’re so... protective. I think it would be bes-”

He cuts you off with a cold voice, “To break up?”

“Yes. I’ve already packed my stuff so I’ll be leaving tonight.”

He stands up abruptly, knocking his chair over. “Don’t say such dumb things, you’re smarter than that y/n.”

Something in his usual sweet self has changed, dramatically. His eyes are icy and his facial expression expresses something of... malice.

“Hisoka I’ve been telling you I want to break up. I need to break it off at some point.” Your heart begins to pound as he slowly makes his way over to you, his shoes clicking against the ground.

“Did you not hear what I just said?” He’s standing behind your chair with his hands on your shoulder. His grip begins to tighten until you wince in pain.

You jump out of your seat and away from him, “Why are you acting like this?!”

He chuckles, until it turns into full on laughter. “Why am I acting like this? I’ve given you so many chances!” He begins to walk towards you, and with each one of his steps forward you take one back. “This is ridiculous. Just say you’re sorry and this conversation will be over.”

“No!” You yell at the top of your lungs, “I’m leaving tonight, no- no, I’m leaving now!” You turn on your heel and book it for the bedroom, grabbing your bags. When you turn around though he’s standing right in front of you. A frown is very present on his face.

His hands grip your wrists and you drop all of the bags. Before you can react he’s on top of you on the bed. You writhe in his grasp but he’s too strong. His grip on your wrists are only getting tighter by the second and you’re sure that your hands are purple by now.

“I said apologize. You didn’t listen. Do you really think you can just leave? You must be dumber than I thought.”

Illumi

His family has just become too much for you. And quite honestly so has Illumi. Illumi is obsessed with you becoming the perfect spouse, and perfect house servant for him. His mother is constantly on you about the way you act or speak. Quite honestly the only time you get a break is with his grandfather and occasionally his father. Everyone else in the house including the butlers have something to say about you. Except for Killua but he hasn’t been home in many months, maybe years.

You’re sitting on the bed while watching Illumi shine his needles. He’s surprisingly very interested in keeping them clean. His back is to you while he sits on the floor.

“Illumi.” You call out. He doesn’t respond but you know that he’s listening. “I don’t think this is working for me anymore. I wish I could say I have the same feelings I had for you at the beginning but I don’t.”

He stands but stays silent so you continue speaking.

“Maybe in the next two weeks I can get my stuff out of here and, I don’t know... Find an apartment somewhere.”

“And who will open the gates for you?”

His words cut through you like a knife.

“Huh?” Is all you can manage.

“Who is going to open the gates for you? No one will open them unless I tell them to.” He turns towards you and his eyes bore into your own.

“You won’t do it?” You ask, almost scared now. You’ve never been scared of your boyfriend despite his occupation.

He shakes his head, “No.” He sighs and begins walking towards you until he has a needle touching your forehead. “It seems my kindness was not enough for you. I really did try to be nice to you. But it seems that training is in order.”

You scramble back on the bed, your hands are clammy and your feel a bead of sweat trickle down your face. “What are you talking about?”

The hand that was holding the needle against your forehead falls to his side. “You can comply, or I can use force.”

Chrollo

He’s never home and you never see him. You’ve asked him so many times to try to come home more often and he never does. The both of you have begun having arguments when you do see each other, it’s just no longer enjoyable for you. He is coming home tonight but is leaving in the morning, he hasn’t been home for 3 weeks. You’d rather not break up with him over the phone, you feel like he deserves better than that.

It’s 11:43 pm when he gets home. He walks over to you on the couch and kisses your forehead, which only makes this harder. “Sorry I got home so late, things ran a little long.”

You nod and he flops down next to you on the couch with a big sigh.

“Hey Chrollo there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

He cocks his head towards you, “Of course darling, what is it?”

You clear your throat and sit up straight, turning towards him in your seat. “It’s just that you’re never home, and when you are home we just argue.” He nods, listening to your words intently and letting you speak. “I need someone who is available to me and honest with me, you don’t even tell me what you do when you’re gone for weeks on end.”

His silence motivates you to keep speaking, “I don’t think that either of us are getting anything out of this relationship. So I think it’s time we break up.”

He sits up and smiles, and you’re left very confused by this.

With that big smile on his face he says kindly, “No.”

“Excuse me?” You stutter.

He leans forward and runs a hand through your hair. “I said no.”

His words make you angry, this is always how the arguments start, with him just flat out disagreeing with you. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. We just argue, Chrollo we are breaking up.”

You stand and move to leave the room but he grabs your hand and pulls you into his lap. When you try to stand up again he secures you in place with his arms.

He leans in close to your ear and whispers, “If you ever say that again.”

A chill runs up your spine and your blood runs cold.

“I’ll kill everyone you have ever loved.”

#hisoka #hisoka morrow #yandere hisoka #hisoka x reader #illumi #illumi zoldyck #illumi x reader #yandere illumi #chrollo #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo #hxh #hunter x hunter #phantom troupe #adult trio #adult trio x reader #yandere adult trio #yandere

948 notes · View notes

pjm-com · 3 years

Text

unbound | m.

- a/n : a big thank you to @ksj-com for helping with the plot hehe

- pairing: kim taehyung x reader - genre: smut, forbidden love! au, slight angst - warnings: sex, cursing, fighting, boys being boys - word count: 11.4K - summary: years after being under the sharp eye of your brother, taehyung finally returns your feelings. of course, jungkook is wanting to protect you from another vicious heartbreak after yoongi, but taehyung will find a way to see you. with or without jungkook's permission.

“Fuck this date.”

You slammed the door shut, tears rolling down your face. You’re glad your parents went away on some kayaking trip, cause the entire house shook. You hang up your purse, not even stopping to look at the outfit you had just wasted. A simple spaghetti strap dress. You had curled your hair for once too, considering it was usually in a bun, or you just left it alone. Not to mention, you had to borrow makeup from a friend considering you rarely wore any.

To put it simply, this was a waste of your fucking time.

You stomped up the stairs towards your brother's room, knowing you’d be able to confide in him. It’s something he’s been doing heartbreak after heartbreak and it gets a little easier every time. His best friend Taehyung would always weigh in too when he could, and they always knew what to say. You’re afraid that this time, they’re gonna want to do more than give advice. If they didn’t kill him first, you’d be able to milk an apology out of the date.

Slamming the door, you sniffle loudly. “Sorry.. can I come to hang out?” Your voice sounded clogged from the drive home. Not one, but two pairs of eyes land on you. Jungkook nods in an instant, patting the open space on the bed. Taehyung’s eyes are glued on you out of pure shock, following you closely as you fall face-first into the bed. The warm palm of your brother's hand on the low of your back. For some reason, it makes you cry even harder.

God, you were pathetic. You haven’t cried over a boy in so long, but this one hurt a little more. You guess you figured that he had liked you, so maybe that’s why it was a little sore right now.

“What's wrong?” Jungkook’s soft voice rings through the room as their game goes on pause. He continues to rub your back in huge circles to calm your breathing while you find a stopping point to the sobbing. You pick up your head, wiping your eyes the best you could, laughing angrily.

“Sorry about your comforter…” Jungkook waves it off. “It's just— I get all dressed up in t-this, which we all know I don’t dress to impress. Then, Mr. Min fucking Yoongi shows up, fifteen minutes late might I add. He barely even looked at me all night.” The boys share a look that is quick, eyes wide.

“Kook, Don’t Namjoon and Hoseok know him?” Taehyung sounded surprised, while your brother nodded.

“Namjoon was who introduced them I think.”

You nod to both of them, playing with a loose string of Jungkook’s blanket. “Yeah, that and we have study hall together.. not that it matters anymore…” You trail off, upset. You were having a good time with him too, even if it was for a few class periods every week. You hated feeling this way, showing weakness in front of your brother and his friend. You couldn’t help it. Guys were assholes.

Shifting into a sitting position, you lean against your brother's shoulder. “Then, he was like ‘so when are we going to fuck’, and lewd stuff like that.. Like— like how do you just say something like that? I feel like an idiot,” You whined, tears falling freely again. You sniffled again as Jungkook brings you in for a hug.

Your brother groaned. “That’s fucked up.”

“Yeah,” you scoffed. “I went in there thinking he was interested in me. Not my body. It seemed like he only cared about sex. He even told me he had second thoughts coming, but… I can only assume he came in case he was gonna get laid.” Your voice dropped off as you let it out, crying into your hands. Boys were cruel and that was more than evident. Jeon Jungkook was horrible at many things. He couldn’t cook, he once swallowed a puzzle piece and got put on house arrest once. That being said, he’s still your brother and you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. He’s an idiot. You have so many other options, he doesn’t even deserve your time.”

Taehyung seconds Jungkook’s words. “For real. You’re funny, you are talented at a lot of things… and I guess you aren’t that ugly.”

You snort softly as you look up from Jungkook’s arms, wiping your eyes while you three laugh. It’s the oldest cliche in the book, but hearing that from Taehyung makes your heart flutter. You continued to look at Taehyung for a bit, cheeks red as you looked at your own feet. You don’t know when you even started having a crush on the older male, but you hate it. As much as it pains you to say that. Jungkook made it crystal clear that he was off-limits, while Taehyung had made no effort to try and make a move. You left it dormant.

You smile. “Thanks, Tae.” You sigh, wiping your eyes for hopefully the last time. “Sorry for crashing, well— whatever this was.”

Jungkook shakes his head, tone firm. “We weren’t doing much of anything. Did you want to join us?”

You look over to his counterpart, the look on Taehyung’s face inviting as you decided. If you had another second alone with yourself, then you might as well just cry for the rest of the night. Nodding, you excuse yourself to change into some regular clothes and take a moment to wipe off your makeup. Your phone lights up, reading Min Yoongi. The infamous senior who everyone wanted to be with, despite being a nonchalant asshole.

He seemed genuine at first, he did. You wonder why you put yourself in these situations, but you can’t find an answer. At least not one you want to admit. Stepping back into your bother’s room with fresh sweatpants and a tight hoodie, you move towards the boys. Sitting on the bed, you pull Jungkook’s fuzzy blanket over your body and relax into the headboard.

The exhaustion stops you almost immediately, eyes closed as you slump against the pillow. Your mind washes away all the worries of a couple of hours before.

You dreamt about your future. Working a dull nine to five, a decent car, a nice house in a quiet neighborhood. Wasn’t ideal, but your husband in the dream was making everything with it. That being said, you couldn’t make out his face, the blonde blurry to your eyes. You enjoyed his company, or at least you did according to the last strings of your dreams.

You make quick work of getting ready, pulling on jeans and a hoodie considering the temperature had dropped today. Once ready, you brush your teeth and floss quickly before you grab your bag and make your way downstairs. You cursed to yourself as you barely had touched your homework. A nerve-eating parasite pinched the very core of your stomach, dragging yourself down into the kitchen with dread. Yoongi was the last person you had wanted to see. Unfortunately, you’d have to suck it up and face your day head-on.

You’re surprised to see Jungkook by himself at the island, choking on a bowl of Frosted Flakes as he dumped the plastic bowl into the sink, looking at you.

“Where’s thing two?” Not that you cared. Okay, you did, but you were curious. They went everywhere together and Taehyung was the last to wake up when he slept at your house. Your brunette brother shrugged, slipping into his vans and almost face planting as he did. He grabbed his keys, moving out the door with urgency. You deadpanned. “Stay up late?”

Jungkook snorted. “Yeah, till almost four. S’ crazy right? Trying to wake up Taehyung is like trying to wake up a cemetery. When I got up, he was gone. Maybe he went to school early?” You both shared a look before bursting into laughter.

“Yeah right,” you laugh as you lock your front door, trailing behind Jungkook to the car. “That knucklehead would never go to school early.. maybe had to shower or something.” You get into your brother's car, deciding you leave yours home for the day. You were coming straight home after school and nowhere else, and taking two vehicles to school was a little extra.

The ride to school was the same, Kook talking about whatever girl he was banging while you just watched the houses move by. You dreaded getting to school, but on the bright side, you wouldn’t have any distractions. You could get all your homework done for the weekend. You doubted Yoongi would even be there, considering all he did was sit in the bathroom and smoke weed.

You guess you kind of liked that, though. You lived a bit of a cookie-cutter life, and never had a taste of danger. Till you met Yoongi.

Finally, you were parked in the school lot. As soon as you stepped out of the car, Taehyung was jogging to you both. His brown eyes crazy and you couldn’t help but notice his knuckles were a bit red. Couldn’t blame him, considering it was the cold dry season.

The blonde fell into step with you and your brother, joining in on the regular morning banter. How Jungkook was a whore, and Taehyung was practically locked in a chatty belt. You thought it was sweet though. Taehyung didn’t have many girlfriends, and you thought it was refreshing how he took everything at his own pace.

“You guys are idiots,” you call, watching the twins wrestle as you open your locker. You shove some books in, only to take out the necessary ones as you wave goodbye to dumb and dumber. Taehyung smiles at you while he waves, and your return the action right back. The prettiest smile you had ever seen. It sounds gross to be gushing over someone who had grown up with you, but the childhood feelings were long gone. They grew up with you, less innocent than they were before. Not that you’d ever say anything.

Taking a seat, you set your books down on your usual table, the commons more crowded than usual. The bell rings and some kids scatter, but it was still heavy traffic in the heart of the school. Your stomach does flips into your fucking ass, almost dropping your headphones as half of the cafeteria watches with you.

Yoongi makes his way across the room, soft eye turned black. Chapped lip now split. It looked fresh too. Not a yesterday kind of bruise, it was more of a thirty-minute wound. He barely gave you time to process how close he was, but the tone was pitiful. Forced. Like someone was holding a gun to his head.

“I’m sorry.” It was dry and airy, but it was.. an apology? “I’m sorry for acting like an asshole. I'm not sure what got into me that night, but I shouldn’t have treated you like that. 's not right.” With that, without even waiting for an answer, he was gone. Anger filled your head to toe. You’re not even sure how it was possible. Who the hell had even beat him up? And was it related to your situation? You finish your homework, but with a clouded mind. So many questions and no answers. You figure it must’ve been Jungkook. Maybe that’s why he was so tired this morning.

You were gonna let him have it.

The rest of the day followed fast and suit as a Friday would. It had blurred by, probably due to the anger. You heated up even more as the car was unlocked, pushing your bag into the seat while Jungkook stared at you weirdly.

“The hell was that today?” The confusion is almost comical, eyebrows knitted as he starts the car. “Don’t act brand new. Yoongi came up to me this morning with his face practically smashed. He apologized to me.” Jugnkook laughed it off, turning on the car and backing out of the parking spot.

“Y/N, you give me too much credit. Mom would beat my ass if I beat someone else’s. Though, I do envy whoever did. Any other leads?” You shake your head as you sink back into the seat. This day felt too long. “I mean, we told Joon about it, but he’s cool Y/N you know him. Doubt he’d do anything so drastic.” You were at a dead end. The drive home was silent. You had no more energy for talking or doing anything else. It seemed so crazy.

You know what though? At least he apologized. Whether he meant it or not, he had to drag his sorry ass through the commons after getting it handed to him, and he had to apologize. You could take a decent nap on that note alone. Although, it still burns in the back of your skull that someone had done it for you. Or at least you thought.

You’re still unsure if the two were related.

“You want a sandwich?” Jungkook offers it up as you both enter the house, dropping your bag as you nod. You honestly forgot to eat today, hunger pangs banging on the wall of your gut. You sit at the island, opening a Gatorade as you watch Jungkook pull out the sub bread and the other fixings to the “world-famous” sub he made. Honestly, it was pretty damn good, and you could eat a whole one right about now.

“So.. you feeling better?” You sigh at the question, chin rested on your hand as you shrug.

You weren’t too sure. “I guess. I'm glad he apologized, but it still racks my mind. Why was he all banged up?” Jungkook halts a bit, before shrugging normally. Jungkook wanted to let the situation blow over, so he decided not to say anything. “Wasn’t you, wasn’t Namjoon, and it wasn’t Taehyung? So… I don't know. Who cares. Enough bout that asshole... What are your plans for tonight?”

Jungkook was glad you had dropped the topic. “The usual. I think the boys are gonna come over tonight if that’s okay with you? I don’t know if you wanted a quiet night or something, but. Jimin wants to play Mario Kart, and Hoseok is going to raid our fridge... You know the usual,” he laughed. But nothing more was said. You happily ate the sandwich, watching the brunette crack out his chemistry book to finish his homework before the boys came over.

You retreated to the bedroom, changing into some sweatpants and one of Jungkook’s old ratty hoodies. The moment your head hit your pillow, you were out like a light.

Honestly, when you woke up, you felt a thousand times better. Your body felt relaxed, you had finger marks on your cheeks. It was probably the best damn nap you’ve had in a while. You rub your eyes, not surprised to see a couple of snap chats from your friends considering you had been asleep for a couple of hours now. You’re almost tempted to go back to sleep before you hear faint yelling from downstairs.

You didn’t mind going to spend a little time with them, laughing as you see Jimin tackle Jin over the coffee table as the raven took first place again. Jimin was no match for the taller male, however, Jin pushing the brunette over the table and straight on his ass, laughing.

“Hey,” you said softly, grabbing a water bottle from the hallway stash, sitting on the edge of the counter.

“Y/N did you see that, Jin’s a cheater!” Jimin wailed throughout the house, making everyone roll their eyes.

Jin’s face only read malice. “Just like your last girlfriend.” The boys all winced at the comeback, laughing a little once they saw Jimin wasn’t phased. “Too soon?” The two start wrestling again, making you laugh. You move past the four-year-olds on the floor, pulling out a small bag of pretzels from the pantry. You open them, turning on your heel before you almost bump into Namjoon. He was a bit of a refresher. He was kind through and through, and always put everyone before himself. Even when your mother forced your brother to let you come with when you were younger, Namjoon always made sure you were included and cared for.

“Woah! Sorry,” you laugh, ready to move past but Namjoon blocks you.

You can read on his face that he’s a little guilty, but you’re not too sure what for. His mouth opens like he’s finding the words, before his lips purse again.

You laugh. “Namjoon, stop sweating. It’s okay, I’m okay.” Namjoon doesn’t buy it. He pulls you into a hug, lips pressed to the top of your head. He was really like an older brother to you, right under Jungkook.

“It’s not... I just. I don’t know. I feel— you never would’ve met him if it wasn’t for me. And I just—“ He cuts himself off. “No one should ever be told those things…” He sure sounded guilty. You did, however, accept the hug.

“Hey, seriously... It sucks, but it’s not your fault. I would never blame you for something like that. Seriously I mean it.” You smile up at the raven, and he finally smiles back. He’s relieved, but you had another thing to get off your chest. “Hey, speaking of him… did you happen to see who beat him up? When he apologized, he looked… busted,” You laugh, Namjoon follows suit.

Unfortunately, Joon shakes his head. “Nope.. figured Jungkook did that, but no. I wish I had an answer,” he shrugged, a frown on his features before Jungkook is calling you both over. You suppressed the curiosity, for now, wondering if you’d ever get an answer. You roll your eyes as your brother referred to you as stinky, laughing as you snatch the controller from Hoseok who was losing anyways.

“Let me show you guys how a real match is played.”

All the boys got their remotes ready. Honestly, you had fun playing the few rounds you did. You kept winning first place against Jimin who was definitely in the lead. You hand the controller, relaxing back into the huge couch. You’re surprised it's taken you this long to realize that Taehyung wasn’t even here. He was always over, so you wondered why he was missing right now. You pull out your phone, checking his location at his own house.

You decide to text him, phone screen tilted to Jungkook couldn’t see.

hey, loser. why aren’t you kicking everyone's ass on the wii?

You watch the text bubble start typing on the screen, and for a few good minutes, it’s going. You’re ready to see a keyboard smash or something considering it was taking a while for the text to send. Just like that, it’s gone. The hell? It wasn’t like Taehyung to not respond, or to take long at all. Something felt off, but you knew Jungkook’s rules. He would be curious as to why you were going over to his house.

“Hey kook, I’m gonna.. get some ice cream. You want any on the way back?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Nah, we’re gonna go get food after this round. Check-in with me at eleven!” You rolled your eyes, slipping on your slippers as you said goodbye to the boys. Unlocking your car, you got in and pulled out of the driveway as soon as it was warmed up enough. It wasn’t a far drive to Taehyung’s house, only a couple of streets over from yours. You knew the route by heart, all the countless nights of you and your brother sneaking out of your house. You high-tailed it to the blue suburban at the end of the cul de sac, only to be dragged home by your mother.

When you finally arrive at the house, you park on the street noticing the house was pitch black. Save for the basement window, which was Taehyung’s window. You kill the engine, shutting the door quietly as you trek up to the front of the house. Tipping the potted fern out front, you grab the hidden spare key, unlocking the front door gently. You close it behind you, taking off your shoes as you sneak down to the basement, not wanting to wake his parents.

You tap the ‘man cave’ sign that the idiots painted for good luck; a tradition you all had. It doesn’t take long to spot Taehyung slouched against the headboard, hand in a chip bowl as you hear the opening credits of SpongeBob. Oh lord.

“Hey stranger,” you call softly, watching him mope around as he paused the show, sitting up.

His face showed that he seemed a little annoyed. “What do you want?” You’re thrown off by the tone, but you can tell he’s upset. Or that he’s in a mood, even though he quickly backtracked. “I’m sorry... I’m just. I got a lot on my mind.” Your eyebrows knit, looking at the expression. Whatever it was, it was kicking his ass.

“It’s okay,” You sigh, voice soft as you move to sit on the end of the bed. Taehyung is jumbling around words in his mouth, shrugging. He wants to avoid it, you can tell. He didn’t want to say whatever was obviously on the tip of his tongue, but it was going to eat him up one way or another. “Hey, the boys aren’t here.. Say what you need t—“

“I’m sorry, okay?” Your eyebrow raised at his words, but you didn’t even have to ask. “I’m sorry about Yoongi.”

You rolled your eyes. “God— what is it with you guys? You and Namjoon both. You don’t need to be sorry, he apologized. It sucks, but it’s over with.” You were starting to get a little irritated at how everyone was walking on eggshells around you. This wouldn’t be the first time your heart broke, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last. Taehyung groans like he’s at war with himself, leaning back into his bed.

“I was the one who beat him up… to get him to apologize.”

The silence that follows is deafening, your eyes wide at the words. Finally, you’re relieved that the whole ordeal is solved. But—

“Why?” You were grateful, truthfully. “What if you get in trouble?” Taehyung had a perfect record, and it wouldn’t sit right with you if he ruined it because of Yoongi. You weren’t going to lie, it did make your heart flutter a bit.

Taehyung sat up, eyes not meeting yours. “Cause, Y/N. I did it cause it's not fair. Yoongi shouldn’t get to walk around with a chip on his shoulder after saying what he did to you.” The blonde sighs, eyes finally looking up. “I pummeled him hard enough, I doubt he’d rat me out. I'm tired of seeing boy after boy come through and break your heart. It’s not fair to you.” Your cheeks burn at the words, sitting silently as you cross your arms. You couldn’t be mad at that, not when he was crusading for you.

“I'm surprised Jungkook didn’t rat me out. He knew… and he knows I like you.”

Now you’re super confused.

“Jungkook knew? That little shit,” you grumble. “I asked him. All-day I was trying to find out what the hell happened to Yoongi. But he knows you like me?” Taehyung nods, defeated as he holds one of his pillows against his chest. You have hit another dead end for maybe the fourth time today. It was unspoken between you two, but you already knew the deal. You can’t go after him. Even if you want to open that damn basement window and scream to the streets that he had finally liked you back.

“It doesn’t even matter,” he whined, eyes looking down at the floor now. “He doesn’t want to be in the middle or pick sides if we were to break up.” You nod, knowing that was Jungkook’s whole problem. It would be impossible for him to pick between his lifelong best friend and his sister. He couldn’t, and he doesn’t want to.

Taehyung on the other hand feels like a fucking idiot. Exposing his feelings, and to him, it seems like you’re dodging it head-on. Relief floods him.

“I like you, god I do,” You mumble, thumb brushing over the scar on the side of his face. “I don’t want to come between you and jungkook.” Taehyung shakes his head, holding your face in his hands.

“I don’t care anymore. I don’t,” he whined, moving closer. It felt like literal years before his lips touched yours and when they do, it knocks the wind out of you. His hand on yours as he practically smashes your lips together and god does it feel good. It feels so fucking good to kiss him. Like you’re finally breathing fresh air. You return the force of the kiss, hand on his shoulder as they mold together. His lips, they’re soft save for the tiny spot that's chapped. He had on cherry-flavored chapstick, making you smile a bit. It tasted weird.

“I don’t care.” Taehyung breathed against your lips. His hand held your face, thumb moving over your bottom lip. It gave your stomach butterflies, to say the least, while he kissed you again. Too slow for your liking, laughing as you bumped noses. You fell back into the bed, the blond following suit. If he didn’t care, then neither did you.

His hands stayed holding your head, jaw tilted in place as you made out slowly. Strings of soft, loving kisses that had years behind them. Decades.

“I guess it doesn’t hurt to keep things under wraps,” you mumbled, feeling his lips wander to your neck. An innocent kiss turned deviant.

You’ve never received a proper hickey before, and god was it making your head spin. The difference between a harsh bite on your neck was massive compared to what Taehyung was doing. His tongue was moving slowly over your skin, pinpointing the spot. Kissing it, mentally marking it before he started sucking on it carefully. Your eyes fluttered shut, letting him do as he pleased. The sensation heightened even more as his hand found yours. He laced the fingers together, before pinning it to the bed.

“Don’t make it too big,” you breathed, tightening the grip on his hand. The laugh that came from his lips was sinister, cold fingers feeling under your hood but stopping at the dip in your back. He held you close as his lips returned to yours, teeth tugging on them carefully before he was kissing you. Like he wasn’t just sucking the blood out of your neck.

Taehyung pulls away, calm. “How was that?” His mood, a whole one-eighty as he sported a lopsided grin. A new glint in his eyes. “I like that..” His thumb pressed over the spot he was just working on before pulling you up with him. The kiss he pressed to your foreheaD? God, everything about him was addicting and you only had him for mere seconds.

“You’re an idiot.” Your face, no help as your cheeks light on fire. Taehyung grinned, his infamous smile as he kissed you again. Honestly, you’re about to fall back into the bed before your phone rings. You’re snapped out of the honeymoon phase as you quickly read the screen. “Shit— I gotta go! Jungkook is so gonna kick my ass!”

You scramble to gather yourself, picking up your keys as you almost hurdle up the stairs. Your arm is yanked back, almost out of your damn socket. You’re flung back into Taehyung’s body, the lips finding yours for one last time before he’s pushing your ass out the door.

“Text me when you’re home.. let me know Jungkook didn’t skin you.”

You both share a nervous laugh, your own feet leaving behind a dust trail as you eject into the car. The engine races to life, pulling out from the side of the street only to speed home. The drive is uneventful and gut-wrenching. You almost clip the mailbox as you pull into your spot in the driveway. You shut your car door softly, fingers not even having the chance to turn the knob before the front door flings open. Jungkook standing there, your stomach falling into your ass.

He knows.

“Where the hell were you?”

“Getting ice cream.” Y/N, you’re a fucking idiot.

Your brother pulls you by the hoodie gently so he can shut the door and lock it. “Cut the bullshit, I have your location dumbs. You’re not doing a good job of hiding that hickey on your neck either.” He’s whisper yelling, which lets you conclude that his friends were still in the living room. The brunette grumbles, popping his head in to make sure his friends were still entertained. “When did you and Taehyung start fucking?” God, the way he spat it out was malicious. But you had to defend yourself.

“Can you watch your mouth kook? We aren’t, we just— kissed,” you groaned. “I know it sounds bad, but it didn’t start until tonight.”

“So you are fucking?”

You roll your eyes. “No, we aren’t. What's the big deal anyway? We kissed a couple of times, Jungkook. Grow up.” You kick off your shoes, turning to the stairs but you have Jungkook’s hand to keep you in place.

“Y/N, I told you the deal. You’ve known the deal. I don’t want you with him, I can’t be a mediator. I won’t have my best friend dating my little sister.” Jungkook’s voice was low but firm. He was dead serious.

But so were you.

You rip your arm out of his grip. “Then don’t be one, and mind your fucking business. I don’t need your approval on who I date.” You want to move up the stairs, but you had to get the last word. “You know, at least he gives a shit. At least he cared about everything that happened with Yoongi. He straightened him out, made him apologize while you barely lifted a finger! If it comes to that point, then it’s between me and Taehyung, not you.” You storm off to your room, Jungkook grumbling.

“Then tell your fucking boyfriend that he can forget about our fucking friendship.”

You slam your door at his words, back pressed against it as you tried to cool off. You yanked your phone out of your pocket, texting Taehyung.

he’s such a fucking asshole. he just blew up on me for no reason.

You fall back into your bed, huffing angrily as Taehyung responds.

ya. he txted me n told me to find another ride to school tmrw. guess he was srs bout cutting me off

Fuck Jungkook.

...

You never saw yourself doing pretty much anything that surfaced within the two months after you and Taehyung started seeing each other. Secretly of course.

Even if the idiots called quits on their friendship, Jungkook would still kick Taehyung’s ass if he saw you together. You’ve been lying to Jungkook about where you go after school. He was still giving you the cold shoulder, suspecting that he blames you for their friendship ending. You couldn’t care less.

You had snuck out for the first time, to meet Taehyung at his house, and you would still be doing it even if Jungkook approved or not. It was his damn fault.

You still would’ve been in the busy part of the town’s bowling alley, Taehyung all over you. You weren’t really worried. The crowded part of the lot made it easy for the town’s druggies and smokers to do it safely, and no one would suspect a thing. Same with others like you and Taehyung. Thank god he had snatched the last spot in the corner of the asphalt lot.

“Ow!” You yelped loudly at the tug of your hair, Taehyung’s elbow leaning heavily on it. He pulled away from our neck, already looking mangled with the same crazy grin you’ve fallen in love with these past few weeks. He moves your hair safely out of the danger zone, offering a small ‘sorry’. He dives back into your skin, tongue lapping over the expanse of your neck before biting harshly. You sigh lazily, hand moving up into his hair as he placed the final kisses over his hickies.

He surges up to kiss you, falling right in line with him as your other hand makes quick work of feeling his naked body. Both of yours together, save for the underwear you both had on. You feel how toned he is, each muscle moving under his skin as he adjusts himself again between your legs, making you bite your lip.

Euphoric as you feel, you’re curious.

“Do you miss Kook? Be honest.”

Taehyung groans, head coming up from the trail he was leaving right above the hem of your bra. “You’re killing my boner, Y/N. I don’t wanna talk about your brother while I’m bout to fling this bra to the front seat.” You snort, laughing into your arm as Taehyung does the same. You grab his hand, lacing together your fingers as you bring his actions to a stop.

“babe, I'm serious. I just— I feel guilty sometimes.” You know that you shouldn’t, but it eats at you. “You’ve been friends since the third grade. I didn’t want to get in the middle of it.” Taehyung pulls away, a more serious expression on his features.

“I know. I do love kook— I always will, but it's his fault. If he can’t support us being together, then he’s just not a real one.”

You snicker at the phrase. “Just please let me know, okay? I understand, but I dunno. I always thought you guys would be each other's best man. Stupid things like that,” you hum, the fingers that were traveling up your back landed on your hip, playing with the band on your thong.

“I will. I’ll probably apologize to him soon, but not yet. I don’t want him watching my every move.” He grinned as he kissed you, trailing down your jaw. “Plus isn’t it fun like this? I think it’s a little sexier to fuck you in private.” You rolled your eyes, his cock hard against your thigh now as your face turns red.

“You’re so embarrassing,” you mumble, rolling over mentally. You’ll let the argument sit for tonight, hands resuming the schedule of moving down his navel until your nails hit the spot just under his boxers. Taehyung hums, rolling his cock into your hand.

Taehyung shrugs. “Stop acting so shy, you’re not a virgin,” he protests, hand on the back of your thigh as he brings it up against his hip, rutting into you like he was actually fucking you. “Not anymore at least.” Your face reddens as he mentioned it, remembering how you both had your first time together. But this wasn’t it. This was less innocent than you had been in the past.

You let out a soft moan at the action as he did it again, hand pressing to the fogged window as he grinned. He loved grinding against you, getting you more than riled up, his hand moving up your sternum. He’s quick with removing your bra, hickies from past endeavors laying on the skin of your chest. Taehyung has to lean back down, tongue lapping over your nipple, knowing he’s going to remark his territory.

It’s like electricity every time, your body hot against the cool leather of his chevy malibu. You love the way he toys with your nipples, biting them just enough to tease you, and not hurt you. He leaves a trail of open-mouthed kisses to your ribcage, fingers dangerously low on your hip before they’re moving over your underwear. His fingers press against you through the fabric and you can start to feel it dampen as he rubs it slowly up and down.

“Fuck,” you whine, bucking into his hand. “Stop teasing.”

Taehyung’s eyes are shining with a new temptation, pulling your underwear down a bit to twist your clit between the pad of his fingers. His cock was definitely awake now, a dangerous grin on his face as he leaned over you.

“mmm, I think you should beg, like how you were doing last time.”

Your face bursts into flames at the reminder of how you were acting the last time. You’re not sure what the hell had gotten into you, but Taehyung was making you do a lot of embarrassing things. A part of you didn’t mind if it was pleasing him.

“Shut up,” you mumble, instantly whining at the loss of his fingers. He pulled your underwear back up to your hips and leaned back.

“So should I drive you home and drop you off while you’re pussy is dripping, or are you going to beg as I asked?” Fuck. You groaned, pulling him back. You definitely couldn’t go back home. “Did that hit a spot? You would be screwed if I made you go back home. You’d have to ride something to get rid of all this tension right here.” His fingers are moving the thong to the side, middle finger in down to the knuckle. You arch a little, his words making your head spin.

“Something to satisfy that greedy pussy like I do, and you can’t do that when your brother is in the next room, so I suggest you start begging, brat.”

You moan again, hand holding his forearm, nails digging into his skin. You loved it when he got like this. Dominant and demanding, god it made you crazy.

But begging was so embarrassing. “Fuck.. please—“

“Please, what?”

The blonde barely gave you time to even respond as he demanded another answer. You look up at him innocently, at least as innocently as you could with two of his fingers pumping your pussy.

“f-fuck me, please,” you begged, hips pushing down on his fingers eagerly as you bite your lip to muffle the noises. “hhh please fuck m-me into the seats, please.” You can tell he’s not satisfied. You wanted to curl and die from embarrassment. You knew you’d have to get lewder, his fingers working into you just right as your hand gripped the seatbelt dangling over your head.

“I dunno if you really want it,” he hummed normally, fingers coming out of you, glistening. He wastes no time sticking them into his mouth, cleaning them off.

You whined. “Please, I’ll d-do anything.. I’ll let you fuck my face against t-the window to sh-show everyone just how big your cock is— daddy.”

“Ohoho,” he laughed, not halting any actions as he pulls off your underwear to deposit it behind his head, pushing his boxers low enough to let his cock fall heavy on your slit. It wasn’t nearly enough, to feel it pulsing against your clit. “Keep going.” You can tell he’s living for the way you’re talking, eyes lidded as he’s fucking his cock up and down your folds, not daring to go inside.

“D-did daddy enjoy t-that name?” You try to act coy, but it fails. The bratty demeanor drops as his hand runs between the valley of your breasts, right onto your neck, applying force. “please... I want to feel y-your cock in m-my stoma—“ Taehyung watches your face as your words drop off, his cock moving into you at once until he physically couldn’t go anymore. You both were breathing heavily, the blonde unable to wait as his thumb moves over your lips.

“God you talk— so fucking sexy Y/N.” He pushed the thumb in your mouth and you immediately sucked on it, eyes watching him as he pulled out. He pushes his cock back in even harder, your back moving against the leather as his hand slips from the window to hold the back door handle. “You’re such a good.. a good girl when you b-beg for my cock.” The words light your stomach on fire. The past two times you guys had done anything, it was never like this. It was intimate and lustful sure. But it was pure. Right now, it was lust drive completely, Taehyung’s pupils blown out as he glared at you. You had never called each other names before, but you definitely reacted to what he said.

“m-move,” you choked out, lips running dry from how fast you were breathing. He grips your neck like a handle, hips snapping into yours as your leg moves off the side of the seat. “M-my fucking god… feels so fucking good.” Taehyung grins, leaning down to kiss you sloppily, licking into your mouth. You catch his tongue the best you can around the moans, his hips meeting yours every other second it seems. The soft radio plays tame impala in the background, but it doesn’t drown out the sound of his hips slapping your thighs, and the way he’s groaning.

It’s low enough to turn into a growl, the blonde’s eyes watch as he can see the faint outline of his dick in your stomach. The skin moves with him, and he’s fascinated by the hit, only fueling him to go deeper.

“Fucking look at that— fuck,” he moaned head tilted back a bit before he’s hovering over you. His chain dangles in your face as he fucks you hard enough that you’re convinced there’s gonna be bruises where he’s holding your hips for dear life. “Taking m-my cock like it’s the o-only thing you know how to do, and I bet it f-feels good in this tummy of yours huh?” You nod helplessly, whimpering as he grabs your hand and laces the fingers, pinning it to the leather behind your head.

“s-shit, hhh, it feels— god daddy it f-feels good,” you moan, voice cracking as he starts to move even faster. “D-do you l-like that name?”

He nods, eyes shutting for a bit as he looks up to the ceiling of the car, enjoying how tight you are around his cock. He takes the hand off of your neck, pinning both hands over your head as he absolutely drills you, making you whine.

“I do, fuck I do.. the way you say t-that and my fucking name—“ he chokes, pulling your legs up so he can get in at a deeper angle. “I h-have half the mind to fuck your f-face into this god d-damn seat.” Your eyes shut at the words, your high approaching dangerously close considering how deep he was in you. Eight inches didn’t go sparingly, rubbing against the best part of you, making your toes curl.

“t-then do it,” you challenge him, arching up into his chest as he kisses you to shut you the hell up. His head was spinning, loving the way your body reacted to him and opened up to him. He’s quick to forget about your hands, which are on him almost instantly as he regains the position on your neck.

“Y-you think I won’t?” God you fucking loved that voice. The low baritone sound of his words made you a mess. “T-think I won’t make you c-call Yoongi right now wh-while I slam this tight cunt into the ground.” You whined at it, his pace increasing as you gripped the seats, barely able to breathe as he choked you harder.

You’re honestly ready to cum, but as soon as the pleasure reached its peak, Taehyung was pulling out. You can’t even figure out which way is up before he’s grabbing you from between your thighs, flipping you over. It starts as soon as it stopped, his hand on the back of your neck as the side of your face is smushed to the seat.

Taehyung grins lazily, too fucked out for his own good as he slaps your ass loudly. You yelp at the action, jolting forward at the collision. “Look at this fucking ass.. n-never have I wanted to bury my cock into some—something so bad before.”

The blonde pushes his thumb into your wet cunt, spitting violently into your pussy, watching it drip. He followed it with his dick, filling you up instantly as you arched into the seats. His hand is twisting in your hair, wrapping around his fingers before he’s forcing you to look at the ceiling.

“I s-spit in that fucking cunt— cause it's mine,” he groaned, and you nodded the best you could. Your throat was tired, every moan bouncing with how hard he was fucking you, thighs trembling.

“taehyung— my god, tae,” you moaned, turning back a bit to see his ab muscles working overtime, moving tautly under the skin as he drilled you. “G-god I'm gonna—“

“Good girl,” he praised, watching sickly as his cock disappeared into your wet folds, watching your ass bounce with every thrust. “Cum on my cock, baby girl, please.” Now he was the one begging, voice getting whiny and airy, thrusts getting sloppy as he tried to keep hitting the spot he was. You couldn’t even think anymore, the slow climb to your climax was irritating almost, before you feel two pads against your clit, rubbing it side to side. You definitely weren’t going to last now, hips bucking as you tried to warn your boyfriend.

“g-god fucking damn,” Taehyung whined, feeling you squeeze him airtight before you cum hard on him.

You’re moaning over and over again, and a little too loudly for taehyung’s own liking, hand covering your mouth as he finally had come inside you too. He cursed loudly, not even fucking you anymore. He buried himself in you to let out his cum, groaning as he felt it flood your pussy.

“Jesus Christ,” you breathe, wanting to slump against the seat but Taehyung’s hand is keeping you steady. He pulls out his cock, whining at the feeling as he spreads your lips open to watch the cum fall out. You swat his hand away at the action, trying to catch your breath as you flip onto your back, pulling him gently by the chain to come to lay with you.

“You’re tight as hell,” he breathed, making you laugh loudly, still out of breath. He kissed your forehead softly, followed by your entire face, making sure you were okay. This was always the best part. The aftercare, and feeling how much he really cared for you as he cleaned you both up the best he could before forfeiting to exhaustion.

“You’re such an idiot,” you mumble finally as he lays with you again, kissing him slowly on the lips. “I love you.” Taehyung smiled at the words, turning you back as he kissed you back, holding you close. You didn’t care about Jungkook anymore. You loved him and you wanted him. No matter what that came with. You wanted to be with him.

“I love you too,” he mumbles, right against your lips before kissing you again. You wanted it to stay like this forever. Care-free, enjoyable. You know that once you get out of this car and return to your own, you’ll have to face your brother again. You’d have to keep facing him every day until you could come clean to him, and who knows how long that’ll be. For now, you relax into Taehyung’s arms. Who knows when you’d get a chance like this again.

The next morning was, as usual, the usual glow of sex on your face. You may have been a little sore, but you couldn’t care less. The night, any night with Taehyung, had you on cloud nine. You could tell he wanted you, not your body. He had worshipped you as no boy had done before. Your head was over the moon.

Even as a relief, it was still irritating to receive your period the next morning. You shuffle through the locker, grabbing the emergency tampons and shoving them into your pocket. The locker shuts and you’re ready to break it to the bathroom, but you’re almost clotheslined by an arm.

“Nice vampire bite.” The voice is venomous and sour. You already knew it was Yoongi before you ripped your eyes to meet his. “Another guy who is just using you.” You scoff while trying to move past him, but he’s larger than you. Encasing you to the lockers.

The laugh is evil. “You’re a fucking pussy, Y/N. You were sooo hurt by my comment that you had to send your brother's bitch of a lap dog to come ‘straighten me out’ huh?” Your heart is pounding in your ears, scared of what he was going to do next. You doubt he was going to do anything so drastic.

“Guess it didn’t stick with you, huh?” You retort quickly, watching as others were crowding the hallway because of the previous bell.

For that reason, he leans in. “If someone says they’re with you, for any other reason than fucking you? They’re lying.”

Your eyes water, failing to meet his gaze. You have half the mind to slap him, but you’re not even sure what you’re going to say next. Not when a flash of a blonde is grabbing the menace by his collar, pushing him back into the locker. The grip Taehyung has on his shirt is deadly, the usual pink hue to his knuckles are white out of anger. He pulls the raven-haired senior off the wall just to slam him again, teeth bared. Eyes narrowed, not backing down from the challenge. Any other day, you would’ve found this extremely hot.

“Say one more fucking thing about her.”`

Yoongi snorts. “Sorry, bitch boy, did I hit a nerve? Surprised you’re defending her after all the sneaking around you’ve been doing.” Taehyung didn’t even know how the fuck he knew about you guys, but he didn’t care. Taehyung was seeing red right now, taking every ounce of restraint he could muster to not crack his face. “Haven’t gotten tired of her yet? You will soon.”

“How the fuck would you know?” Taehyung snaps. “Why do you even care? It’s been almost two months.” Yoongi’s eyes snap over to you, noticing Jungkook right by your side as he tries to guide you away. You’re frozen.

“Why do you care? You aren’t even together— all you are is Jungkook’s bitch.” Taehyung couldn’t keep it together anymore, ready to wind back his arm before he notices the crowd, his former best friend front, and center. He backs as quickly as he tackled him, ready to walk to his next class. “Right, wouldn’t want to expose our little secret? Cause what the fuck is she to you?”

Taehyung turns on his heels, arm pulling back as he wound up to hit him before a large hand is holding his. It was the school security, pushing Taehyung towards the office. He turned to check on you, eyes wide as you and your brother were absent. The blonde had to sit in the office and listen to an hour of scolding, finally getting off with detention. He doesn’t even bother going home, immediately making his way to your house.

He thought a lot about what had happened, a pit turning in his stomach. He probably just confirmed any of Jungkook’s suspicions, watching him freak out over you like that. But the blonde didn’t care. Part of him was hoping you weren’t home facing Jungkook’s wrath, and another part of him was proud of what happened today. If anything, that showed Jungkook how much Taehyung really cared for you.

None of that mattered. Jungkook would still pick his own side.

The said raven was watching you sleep peacefully. He couldn’t believe that two boys were fighting over his little sister, one being his best friend. It was so idiotic and pointless. He’s a little relieved that Taehyung was there for you, but he couldn’t ignore what Yoongi said. ‘Your little secret’? He suspected they were meeting up behind his back, and that only enraged him even more. He didn’t want to have to deal with another boy breaking your heart.

Would Taehyung ever do that?

Jungkook is startled out of his thoughts at the sound of the doorbell, opening it to see Taehyung. Both of their stomachs are wrenching in their core, the still silence is unsettling. Never in his life did Taehyung think there would be a sour moment, yet here it was.

“She’s asleep. What do you need?” The tone hurts. It’s sour and stern, and foreign. A tone that he’s never heard come out of Jungkook’s mouth, and it makes him lose his train of thought. His fingers play idly with the strings on his sweater.

He inhales. “Dude, look. I know— I fucked up, and I’m sorry. You know I would never hurt her like that. Even if I did, I know the consequences.” Taehyung wanted to roll over and just apologize, but he needed to stand his ground. “What has you so bent? You know me, Kook. What’s so bad about us being together if we’re both happy.”

Jungkook shakes his head, arms crossed. “That’s not the point.”

“How is it not?”

“You went behind my back and got with her, even after I told you not to— the one thing I ask you not to do, and you do it. It puts me in an uncomfortable situation, and now it is for her too.”

Taehyung scoffs. “Because of Yoongi? What the hell did you want me to do? If you were there and heard him talking that way about her, you would’ve done the same.” Taehyungs anger is boiling now, thinking about the situation. “But you weren’t, so I had to do your job and take care of it.”

Taehyung immediately regrets saying that, considering the door slams in his face. He groans. I’m a fucking idiot.

The Blonde trudged back to his own house, head full. He knew all of this was a bad idea, hence why he was hesitant to be with you in the first place. Unfortunately, once he had been with you, the want was overbearing. To just give it up over one stupid day? He couldn’t just let you go.

Taehyung finally feels some weight drop as he falls into bed, more exhausted than he’s ever been in a while. The frame on his bedside tables hurts the familiar faces of you and Jungkook alongside the blonde on his sixteenth birthday. He had the biggest crush on you ever and to be honest, he’s not sure he’s stopped ever since you bandaged his knee in the third grade. It sounds so fucking dumb, but he can’t help smiling at the thought.

It makes sense why none of his other relationships worked out, considering he was always looking for you in other girlfriends. That's why He can’t let you go, and it’s why his heart leaps when he sees you calling.

“Hey,” he breathes, relief flooding his body. You take a bit to respond, chewing words around in your mouth.

“Hey... I heard you and Jungkook outside so.. thank you, for dealing with Yoongi.”

Taehyung stammered. “You’re not mad?”

“Well,” you sigh, laying back into your pillows. “I don’t agree with how you handled it, but.. you did it for me, and I love you for that.” Taehyung’s heart restarts as he sits up, a dorky smile on his face.

“I love you too, Y/N…” You smiled, butterflies as you sighed. It made you happy to hear that. “Tomorrow, I’m gonna talk to Jungkook and see why he’s really bent. Maybe I’ll change his mind.”

You shrug. “I dunno if he’ll ever get over it, it really irritates him.” You could not pinpoint why, and it irritated you even more.

“I know, but I have to try.” Taehyung groaned. He was a simp. “Imma see what the real reason is.”

Even as you two talked on the phone, it lifted your mind. After everything with Yoongi today, your mind racing as it finally relaxes once you settle into bed. Taehyung’s voice runs through your ears and you think about the couple of months you’ve had with him. A little carefree and mischievous. You just wanted to go back, and not have to face anything tomorrow.

The morning is lonely for Taehyung. A morning where usually it would be him and Jungkook, it was just him. No texts, no screenshots from the game last night, no sitting in his car while all of you sang horrible karaoke. It just wasn’t the same, and he hated pretending like it was. He finally got to school, opening his locker. The day was just as dull, sitting alone at lunch while you and your brother sat with his friends. You wanted to sit with him so badly, but you knew that Jungkook and Taehyung had to resolve things before you could be together. And it was so dramatic, and for what?

You stabbed at the pasta your mom had cooked last night, eyeing the devils incarnate across the room. Yoongi’s eyes were on you and you wanted to do nothing more than shoving his face into his cold pizza. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. You didn’t want to start more drama. You wanted to go home and have a nice calm weekend… texting your boyfriend… who wasn’t yours but, it’s all the same.

The day gets duller as it goes on for both parties. Taehyung is mulling through the last period of the day. Of course, it was math.

He gated algebra and it blows that it’s the last fucking class. He feels refreshed once the last bell rings, but the walk to his locker is just as lonely as the last month had been feeling. Taehyung unlocked his locker, ready to just leave already. He would be angrily shoving books into his locker now before a picture falls freely out of his locker. He can barely recognize the interior of his car before it feels like everyone is staring at him.

His throat is so fucking dry, he can barely breathe. He picks up the photo, stomach-dropping into his fucking ass.

His brown eyes round the hallway, seeing everyone has received the same picture, and everyone was staring at him.

He had never run so fast in his life once his brain had processed what was happening. He rounds the corner, to see your locker and you’re not there. But it’s wide fucking open, thousands of copies scattered on the floor and the metal door. Jungkook stood, motionless and silent, as he looked at the photos. A million pictures of his best friend and his sister— making out in a car. Taehyung, who was still stumbling over his shock, had watched Jungkook slam the locker shut and approach him. God he was ready to shit his pants, for his life was about to flash before his eyes. He braced his muscles for any form of attack. It doesn’t come.

“Open your eyes, shit head.”

Taehyung blinked an eye open. “You aren’t gonna kick my ass?”

“No,” he grumbled. Taehyung wanted to laugh considering that nickname from him sounded so good. Like they were back to normal. “Now isn't the time to be worried about you and my sister, fuck. that. I’m not worried about this, I’m worried about what fucking prick would send this shit around, she’s a fucking minor.” There, Taehyung can see it. Jungkook’s scared. He’s scared for his sister, and if they had switched places, Taehyung would feel the same way. He can understand where Jungkook is coming from now, with his entire argument. He wanted to protect her from assholes like this, and as much as Taehyung could argue with him; he’ll never understand what it was like to have a baby sister.

But he drops it to save his ass. Taehyung remembers to breathe once his shirt gets dropped, but he’s still being pulled back towards his locker. Jungkook collecting all the pictures he can, shoving them deep into the trash. Cause fuck this. Jungkook hated the idea of them together, and truthfully he has no clue why. He wants to protect her, but there’s another layer. That aside, they were gonna find out who the hell did this.

“Kook. you need me to spell it o—“

Jungkook slammed a poor kid into a locker to grab the picture from him, ripping it in half. “The moment I find out who the fuck this is, I’m gonna smash his face into the fucking ground.” Jungkook was filled with rage, disposing every last picture he possibly could before dragging Taehyung out to the lot. He shoved his bag into the backseat, holding the raven in place.

“Bro,” he said calmly, looking at his best friend. “Who else? it’s Yoongi. he was talking all that shit in the hallways, like who else?” Jungkook nodded. it made sense. Yoongi was a prideful person, but who else would go through the trouble of humiliating her like this.

“So what now?”

Taehyung shrugged, leaning against the hood of his car. “The only thing I’m thinking of is that we go kick his fucking ass.” Jungkook rounded the car quickly as they both got in, engine revving.

“Sounds like a plan.”

The drive to Yoongi’s hangout was silent. It was a little bittersweet that they were going to kick his ass in the same parking lot where those pictures took place. Taehyung was admittedly a little nervous. He knew you didn’t like fights or conflict and this was the opposite of everything you didn’t like. If he wanted to make a point, that’s a decision he’d have to live with.

Jungkook grumbled irritably. “God, the moment I see him I’m gonna rip his head off. What a fucking— oh my god.” The raven’s voice cut off as they pulled up to the bowling alley, noticing Yoongi there with three of his friends. The two shared a look, and they were both scared shitless.

“How are we gonna beat them? Four against two ain’t fair,” Taehyung whined, Jungkook throwing the car into park. Jungkook was trying to strategize in his head, but the only conclusion he had was to face this shit head-on. They both exit the car, rounding the lot to meet the four sitting on the edge of Yoongi’s car.

Yoongi’s the first to notice, jumping a bit but posing like he was a threat once his friends noticed.

“So, it is true that you’re his lapdog?” Yoongi laughed. “I was right about you, and in the hallway, I bet you wanted to kick my ass huh?”

Taehyung stepped forward. “I want to kick your fucking ass right now. Where you the one who printed out those pictures?”

“Yeah.”

He admitted it effortlessly, the plain smirk on his smug face was seriously pissing Taehyung off.

“What the fuck for?” Taehyung’s fists were balled as the elder boy stepped closer, unable to resist punching him in the face.

Yoongi shrugged. “‘Cause I wanted her to see that every boy she’ll ever meet wants to fuck her; nothing more, nothing less.”

Taehyung wasn’t sure if that was a backhanded compliment or not, but Jungkook was the first to jump. His fist connected with Yoongi’s jaw followed by a loud crack. That’s when the fight broke out.

You sat in your bed, bundled in your brother's sweatshirt as you flipped through Netflix on your mac. You were barely paying attention considering you were chewing off all your nails. You hadn’t heard from Jungkook or Taehyung since you had left school. You were a little distraught, but honestly, there was a big event every week at your school and you prayed this would blow over. You knew it was Yoongi anyways and you kind of figured that those two idiots would have done something by now. Or maybe Jungkook still wouldn’t forgive him after this. Maybe they would still be mad— maybe they weren’t even together.

Your head was swarming with thoughts but you were too exhausted to pick up the phone. You turn to another episode of some random crime show, laying back into the mountain of pillows before your stomach lurches at the sound of a car door. Two doors to be exact, and they slam shut. You spring from the bed, racing to the top of the stairs. Your eyes meet with two boys.

“You’re fucking crazy,” Taehyung laughs, wiping the blood that’s dripping from his nose while Jungkook’s laugh rings through the previously silent house. It was like music to hear them laughing together, shoulders bumping as they made it into the entryway of the house. It takes a bit to realize that they’ve had their asses kicked. Like they were jumped.

You race down the stairs. “Oh my god. what the hell happened?” Jungkook’s lip was split, eye bruising slowly as he limped over to you. “Did you two idiots get hit by a car or something?” The two laugh in sync, fist-bumping each other as Jungkook waves off the concern.

“Believe it or not, we won.”

You snort. “Won what?” Taehyung kicks off his shoes, holding his sleeve to his nose. You notice his eyebrow is split as well, knuckles bruised.

“We went and kicked Yoongi’s ass. He had some randoms with him but we came through in the end,” Jungkook breathed. “I’m glad you were there with me, bro.” You let your heart warm for them. You knew they were hurting, watching the two boys hug. You knew they meant it, them both pulling away as Jungkook hugged you as well.

“I’m sorry I didn’t do more when Yoongi was first acting up. I should’ve straightened him out the first night you told him about us.”

You shake your head, hugging him tighter. “Shut up. You just got your ass handed to you, don’t apologize.” You three laugh and god, it feels good. It feels normal until your eyes linger on Taehyung slowly. You wanted to hug him and kiss him, despite his face being bloody. You’re ready to retreat to the kitchen, but Jungkook stops you. He pushes you towards the blonde while he starts to rummage the fridge for ice.

You’re hesitant and so is Taehyung, but once you felt it was okay, you moved. It felt free and honest, holding his face in your hands to kiss him. He returns it with equal force, slow and meaningful. He pulls away, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“Yoongi won’t be a problem anymore,” Taehyung breathed, hands on your waist.

You laugh sadly, thumbing over the mark on his eyebrow. “You barely made it out alive, dork… but thank you. Seriously, both of you,” You mumble, eyes looking to your brother. You’re ready to start a speech but Taehyung cuts you off, the blonde practically trembling next to you.

“I know this may be weird, but I’m sorry for sneaking around with your sister. This is gonna sound so formal and cheesy, and it’s making me want to puke, but I love her a—“

Jungkook groans. “God just shut up.” Jungkook was doubled over, fake puking noises coming from his mouth. You laugh a little, a thousand weights off of your shoulder as your fingers lace with Taehyung’s. “I was a little mad in the beginning cause you’re my baby sister… and you’re my best friend. That put’s me in a difficult spot.”

He continues. “Even so, I can tell that it won’t be an issue. Taehyung cares about you, I can see that now. Especially with how hard he was kicking that idiot’s ass—“ You snort, punching Jungkook’s arm. But he shrugs. “I’m serious. I’m fine with you guys. I want you to be happy and if that’s with each other, I can live with that.” You hum happily, pulling them both into a group hug. The love you felt from both of them was radiating.

Of course, Jungkook had to ruin the moment.

“I better not see you guys making out, or I will throw up on you, got it?”

You and Taehyung swear to him, laughing as you three trailed to the kitchen so you could start healing their cuts. Jungkook, however, falls behind. His heart feels heavy and before he had no clue why. He watched you two kiss, the hand on your waist making his stomach drop. He knows now why he didn’t want you guys to be together.

He didn’t want to share Taehyung with you for a specific reason. One he’s not ready to admit yet.

He knows it’s resentful and jealous.

#bts #bts smut #kim taehyung #kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung smut #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #v x reader #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook

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stickyy · 3 years

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Can I have a gn reader x Aizawa? Maybe a college AU where Aizawa doesn't know how to handle his crush because he was awkward when he was young and ended up a bully who was handsy. Thank you!

EEEE this is my first ask so i hope you like it anon! :D thanks so much for requesting!

DISCLAIMER: i do not condone or encourage any of the behavior outlined in the following text. this is a work of fiction, and should be treated as such. :)

wordcount: 2299

warnings: dubcon, verbal abuse, slight dumbification, forced oral sex, brief mentions of gagging/vomit (doesn’t actually happen), aizawa is an law student asshole, quirkless!AU, ooc? more likely than u think

notes: im not like a writer so when i put this in word count and saw it was 2k words i gasped-

MIDTERM

Without a doubt, Aizawa’s the smartest student in your Civil Procedure lecture. You admire him; you’re both first years, but he already has an incredible work ethic and results to show for it. He works two part-time jobs to help pay for school (alongside his impressive scholarship), studies into the late hours of the night (mostly due to his being kept awake very loud roommate), and, despite a bad habit of regularly showing up to your 8 am class slightly hungover, still manages to produce the top marks in the class.

You’re envious of him, because you’re the exact opposite. Your tuition is paid in full by your parents, you have a wonderfully quiet apartment all to yourself, and you study as best you know how, only to practically fail every assignment. You wish you could be surprised, but the material is a dreadfully bland concoction of boring procedure and esoteric theory that you rarely get further than three or four pages into a chapter. You want to like law, you really do, but there’s something about the intricacies of drafting lawsuits that goes in one ear and out the other. It’s no surprise that you sought out Aizawa’s help, desperate to at least pass the class with a decent grade.

You wish you hadn’t.

You don’t understand what you do that bothers him so deeply, but something about you coaxes cruelty from somewhere dark inside of him. You always scurry towards the back of the lecture hall to grab a seat next to him, doing your best to be quiet and unassuming, but he shoots you a venomous glare or a soft flurry of harsh words. And you get it, to an extent- some days you walk into class chattering a little too loudly on the phone, and on others you loudly shuffle around in your book bag to try finding the notes that you attempted to start for this lecture (if you even brought them that day). You know it’s annoying, but you also know you don’t deserve the downright verbal abuse he throws at you for it.

“It’s hard to take notes if you forget your textbook. Try being prepared for once,” he’ll sigh as he slides his textbook to you. Like a good student, he took notes for lecture the night before, but it still took some convincing for him to spare you his textbook.

“Do you ever shut up?” He’ll interrupt you as you babble about your difficulties understanding the most recent lecture. You want to retort, tell him off for being rude, but the words die in your throat; he radiates an annoying apathy that makes you doubt the efficacy of anything you say to him.

“You wouldn’t fail every assignment if you actually studied. Or maybe, you’re actually just stupid?” He’ll quip as you clutch your paper, a red ‘47’ scrawled in the upper corner of the page littered with your professor's critiques and question marks. By contrast, Aizawa’s paper is pristine, donning a singular red mark of ‘98, nice work!’.

With a well placed glare and the sour baritone of his voice, laced with exhaustion, it’s always enough to make your stomach drop from shame and embarrassment. Under normal circumstances, you’d never allow anyone to speak to you that way, but your grade was a dire situation, and with the midterm upcoming, you forcefully swallow your pride and ask him for his help.

You have to beg, but Aizawa agrees to tutor you the day before the midterm. This grade is a make or break for the class- if you do poorly on this exam, you’ll have to drop the lecture to salvage your gpa, putting you half a semester behind your peers. It’s motivation enough to deal with his poor attitude, and the two of you end up reviewing in an empty studying room on the top floor of the library. You began the session alert and determined to catch up, but studying with him shows you just how far behind you are. The textbook sounds like foreign poetry coming from his mouth; Aizawa is nothing short of eloquent when explaining the complexities of something as boring as filing lawsuits, and you spend most of the two hours spent just zoning out, completely unable to focus.

“You’re just wasting my time at this point.” The break in his cadence snaps you out of your trance, unfocused eyes meeting his tired ones, slightly lidded in annoyance, “Are you even trying to remember the material? Or are you just expecting me to spoon-feed it to you?”

Your throat catches, forcing you to swallow a lump as you attempt to ignore his words.

“I am trying! I just don’t understand why there are two approaches, is all,” You whine, flipping back through your sparse notes to find the section that contained the explanation.

“I went over that almost 3 chapters ago. If you were paying attention, you would’ve stopped me by now. It’s hard to believe that you even got into this school, if this is how you studied in high school. Did your daddy pull some strings with his buddies in admissions?”

Your eyes narrow, searching harder for the correct section in your notes. That’s a pretty low blow, and even if he’s not completely wrong, it still stings. You now know for a fact you didn’t even read this part of the text, but you keep your eyes trained on the page. At this point, you’d do anything to avoid looking at Aizawa, lest you begin to cry.

“Don’t be an asshole,” is all you can muster, voice shaking with unshed tears, “Would it kill you to be a little nicer? It’s hard to focus when all you do is insult me.”

“It’s hard to focus?” He repeats, his tone a sickly sweet mockery of yours. “Sweetheart, I don’t think that’s my fault. You’re a lot dumber than you think, if you even think at all. The midterm is tomorrow, and we’re just now getting into chapter five. Don’t get mad at me for actually trying to study; if I was holding your hand through it all, we’d still be on chapter one.”

Your vision blurs and a single tear hits the lined paper of your notes, causing the ink to blur as the drop absorbs into the page. You clench your jaw and take a breath before standing up, opening your backpack to put you things away. You didn’t have to take this abuse, you could study on your own. Even if you did poorly, you’d have some of your dignity left.

“It’s pretty rude to just walk out on someone trying to help you,” Aizawa says after a moment, closing his notes shut. “Not only do you give me a headache every single morning, but I try to tutor you and you want to leave without even thanking me? I’m busy, you know? I take time that I don’t have to spare just help your sorry ass out, for free, and you’re not even capable of learning anything from it.”

You sling your bag over your shoulder and move to leave, but you find yourself face to face with Aizawa, his tall frame blocking the door, arms crossed over his chest, and a thoroughly disgusted expression plastered on his features.

“I should charge you a fee, just for completely wasting an afternoon. Absolutely ridiculous,” His tone is a juxtaposition to his demeanor; he sounds more amused than annoyed, a jeer underlying the words. It makes you feel sick, and you’re suddenly grossly aware of the fact that you're alone with him, the only method of escape blocked. It feels dangerous, and you want nothing more than to be at home, alone and safe.

“H-how much?” You stutter meekly, eager to appease him. “I don’t really have any cash on me but if you have Venmo-”

“That’s not quite what I had in mind,” Your heart starts to jackhammer against your ribcage and panic sets in. You’re frozen in place, unwilling to ask him to elaborate. You may not be very bright, but you have a good idea of what he’s going to ask for, and you can think of a million things you’d rather do instead.

“I know your pretty little skull is practically an echo chamber, so listen closely, okay? We both know that no matter how hard you try, you won’t be ready for the exam by the end of tonight, and I have to work in an hour and a half. So, if you behave and do what I ask you, I’ll let you copy my exam answers tomorrow. Understand?”

You’re silent, paralyzed by fear. A part of you wants to run, desperately, but your mind drifts to the midterm. You know that without any help, you’ll surely fail.

That’s how you end up on your knees in front of him, tears finally streaming down your face from choking on his thick cock.

“That’s it,” he groans breathlessly, eyes fluttering shut as his head presses back against the door, “I knew you were good for something. I bet this is how you convinced your other teachers to give you a passing grade, huh? A few cocks down your throat-fuck, to save your gpa, I wouldn’t put it past you, dumb slut.”

You hate this- hate being reduced to just a mouth for him to fuck. You hate how he sneers down at you, his eyes alight with sadistic pleasure. You especially hate the treacherous way your spine tingles and heat pools low in your stomach at his amused growls and degrading remarks. He’s just as cruel with the way he fucks into your mouth, disregarding your comfort entirely, hand in your hair roughly guiding your head over his length. He’s almost painfully thick, stretching your lips wide, tickling the recesses of your throat in a grotesque way. You try to wiggle away slightly, just to take a small breath; you’re beginning to feel dangerously lightheaded. You begin to pull your head away but he thrusts his hips upward, holding your head down and forcing your lips to wrap around the base of his cock.

“S’okay, baby, just relax that empty little head of yours, no need to breathe right now,” he sighs, watching you struggle against him with a smirk, watching the fear bloom in your chest and your mind buzz with the lack of oxygen. Your thrashing shifts his cock in just the right way and you violently gag, eyes widening with the painful sensation. You’re almost convinced he’s going to let you pass out, right before he yanks you off of him. You cough violently, gagging a few more times, drool spilling out of your mouth.

“Throw up on me and a failing grade will be the least of your problems,” he growls, and the threat is a sobering reminder of how fucked up this is. You meet his expectant gaze, and reluctantly return to the task at hand. You can hold out just a little longer, you tell yourself; his hips are beginning to move on their own accord and you know he won’t last much longer. All you have to do is hang on and it will all be over soon.

You know that he’s just a bully, that you’re just doing what you have to do in order to pass this class, that you’re worth more than your grades, that you aren’t stupid- but the dark part of your mind questions if he’s right. Maybe you do belong on your knees, because what do you know? Maybe you are just a dumb slut; there’s no need to study if the only thing you’re good for is swallowing.

The shameful thought forces a new torrent of tears to pour from your eyes, gagging once more on both your tears and his cock, and the look of pure despair on your face pushes him over the edge. Aizawa yanks your head from his cock with a curse and you flinch as his hot cum hits your face. There’s a lot of it, the viscous seed slowly dripping down your face. The sensation is downright disgusting. You feel dirty and used, your throat sore, knees burning, lips swollen from his brutal assault. He presses the tip of his cock on your cheek, smearing his load all over your skin with a cruel laugh.

Through your panting, you keep your eyes closed for a little bit, hoping that maybe this is an awful nightmare and you’ll wake up in your dorm, with an extra day to study and a little more hope in your heart.

The sound of a camera shutter rips you from your fantasy, opening your eyes to see Aizawa grinning at his phone. You’re too shocked to say anything, only staring at him incredulously from your position on the floor in front of him.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, you know?” He hums as he tidies himself up and grabs his bag. “So photogenic, I’ll be able to get off to this for weeks. Who knows what good you’d be if you were dumb and ugly.”

You didn’t notice that you had stopped crying, but the fresh tears and sound of your own sobs call your attention to fact.

“Try and clean up before you leave, alright? I know you’re a little too stupid to remember, but I don’t think it’d be a good look for you to walk around covered in cum.”

The door clicks closed, and through your sobs you look around at the room, only to notice that there aren’t any tissues left laying around. You hate him, you hate him, you hate him.

(But at least you get an A- on your midterm.)

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the-king-andthe-lionheart · 2 years

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Hey. I saw your reblog of a cool post talking about how Sansa won’t be winning the North by being “polite and singing songs and asking nicely“ and how violence and brutality are in the North, after all Robb didn’t get the Umbers approval by asking politely but by having Grey Wind eat Umber’s fingers. And i Love how in the tags you said the North would never choose Sansa. If it came down to it they would choose Arya. They most certainly would. No one ever complained that Robb wouldn’t exchange Jaime for Sansa. But they are furious to hear that ”Arya” (we know it’s Jeyne) has been wed to the demonic Ramsay Snow. The only reason Sansa was “chosen” (she wasn‘t) in the fake season of the show was because fucking Dumb&Dumber have a massive favoritism for her and Sophie Turner. Gosh it was so disgusting to see that filthy coronation (that looked just like Cersei signifying Sansa’s tranformation into Cersei 2.0) and fake Jon being forced to say she’s the best for the North. And what is all that dumb bullshit about how Northern Independence is the “best thing and necessary for the North”. Anyway in the books they definitely would not choose Sansa and certainly not if she were like her show version (who I am shamed to have ever liked. Now I loathe her with every part of me).

@whitedragonwolf4961

Sorry for the wait for my reply. :)

D&D had massive favoritism when it came to Sansa, or should I say, they had a very obvious bias towards the Lannister's, and Lannister adjacent characters. You can see it in how they whitewashed the whole family, even Cersei (D&D hardly ever whitewashed female characters, usually only male characters, as they would typically make female characters darker) and how heavily focused the show was on twincest and then making it so Jaime went back to her out of love (If Jaime does go back to the same place Cersei is IMO I don't think it will be about his love for her, but to stop her). Like just because Jaime and Cersei and Tywin were killed off, it doesn't mean they weren't D&D's favorites. Also let's not forget about the two Lannister adjacent characters: Sansa and Bronn. Two characters that were unfairly rewarded endgames that they didn't deserve. Sansa became Queen in the North through nepotism, did absolutely nothing during the war, except complain, didn't care that Rickon died, was going to execute Arya, and could have gotten Jon killed over telling his secret, and could have started a war between Dany and the North, yet she becomes queen? Then we have Bronn. Like sure he's helped Jaime and Tyrion out for a fee for several seasons, but he would have killed any one of them for the right price. He's a mercenary. Yet what does he get? A position on Bran's King's Council as Master of Coin, and is given Highgarden. He is now Lord of the richest and most fruitful kingdom in Westeros. Kind of seems a little convenient there. IMO Lannister favoritism.

I used to love Sansa on GOT as well. She was one of my favorite characters through seasons 1-4 (imagine my surprise when I realized how much D&D whitewashed her from the books, hence why I liked both her character and her arc in those seasons). I even quit the show for a couple of years after S5 because of what D&D did with Sansa's storyline. Like I was watching that episode with my mom and stepdad and I was a sobbing mess. I even used to believe in the whole Northern Independence BS and even believed Sansa should be Queen in the North (mainly because of how she suffered, which IMO I think that was the point. Instead of giving Sansa a proper leadership arc, they make her suffer horribly, so people think Sansa deserves a big reward for that suffering.) However, watching S7 really changed my perspective (mainly because she was legit trying to execute Arya) and I began looking at Sansa's actions in S6 and they just rubbed me the wrong way, like her behavior only made sense if she was trying to sabotage Jon, and actually hoped to come out of that battle as the only Stark left, looking like the hero (whether that was the intention or not, or if it was just bad writing we'll never know). Then I read the books after S7 and I realized just how much was different, especially the characters, and I further realized how many character arcs Sansa was given from other characters by D&D and how it made absolutely no sense to me that Sansa would be Queen in the North at the end of the books. But now I'm like you. S8 made me detest Sansa Stark. And I'm not the type of person to go around hating characters. My only other exception is Scott McCall from Teen Wolf.

Anyway, it's funny, I'm sure Stansa's look at me and think I've always been a Sansa hater (I'm not even a book!Sansa hater, I'm Sansa critical, as it's the Stans I detest) and that I never believed Sansa would become Queen and blah blah blah, but they are dead wrong. But I think this really points out how different the books and the show are and because of this, it's highly unlikely the endings will be the same in the books as the show, especially when it comes to characters like Sansa and Arya and Dany.

#asoiaf

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hadtochangemyurlquick · 3 years

Text

here’s 7.1k of Toni pining and Shelby and Toni being childhood friends and also far more character analysis of Rachel than I was expecting? also Marcus is real and I made him a gorgeous himbo. it’s based off that poem by @theycallmedizzy and you can find it here. lmk if you want a second chapter from shelby’s perspective, tho i literally just finished this one. like literally ten minute ago.

Mr. Williams finishes reading the poem and looks over his spectacles at the class. Yes, they’re spectacles, those kind of tiny thick ones that make his eyes too big because he’s much too old to be teaching.

It’s eight am on a Tuesday, Toni walked the three miles to school because she missed the bus only to walk into her shitty honors English class and hear the teacher reading a poem aloud to the class. Her poem. She’d sat down after a momentary pause and listened to him read the final damning stanza.

And then he looks at Toni.

He reads her essays right? What if he recognizes her writing voice? Is that a thing? Or maybe her handwriting or—

“Toni, I was just explaining to the class that whoever wrote this should submit it to the state literature festival,” Mr. Williams says, Toni almost sags against her chair. “I was hoping someone would come forward,” He turns back to the class, eyes hovering over Quinn and Monty, two of the more sensitive guys who sit in the back and ruin the curve for everyone. “But I’ll leave it on the board here,” he clacks it on with a magnet and Toni flinches, “and hopefully someone will come forward. Now onto today’s lesson.”

After class Martha goes up to the board and takes a picture of it, her eyes a little starry at the words and Toni grits her teeth.

“You have to admit it’s pretty,” Martha says. “Even you can’t deny that.”

“It’s dumb,” Toni says flatly, crossing her arms.

“Well I’m keeping it anyway, maybe someday someone will write a poem about me,” Martha says.

“How do you know it’s not about you?” Shelby asks coming out of nowhere and uninvited too. Toni glares at her, letting her open disdain shine through like sunshine through clouds after a gully washer.

“No guys notice me,” Martha informs Shelby sadly. “I bet Andrew wrote it for you.”

Shelby purses her lips and looks over the poem, “I doubt it. He’s more of a doer, I think. Besides, I’m sure that guys notice you, you went on a date with that boy Sam last month.”

Martha sighs and before she can launch into what a disaster that date was, Toni tightens her hands around her backpack.

“I’ll see you in science,” She tells Martha and manages to escape Shelby’s eyes burning at the back of her neck.

———

reasons not to kiss her

1.) this sort of love is not allowed. you are both too soft, and the world around you is all knives and chipped teeth

Toni had played about every sport she was allowed to growing up. Basketball was her favorite, but she loved beat it ball, the game she made up with the other kids in the neighborhood. It was basketball but without rules, devolving into fist fights within the first half. Nothing tasted better than her own bloody lip on a hot summer day. Not even the cool glass of lemonade Mrs. Blackburn always had ready when she ran all skinned knees to Martha’s telling her about how she beat guys two years older than her.

She got angry when she had to stop playing, moving to a different neighborhood. Apparently, Mrs. Blackburn had figured out that she wasn’t only getting her split lip from the older kids in the neighborhood.

The new foster parents were a little stricter, a little richer, and signed her up for youth soccer when she complained about how there was nothing to do without beat it ball.

Martha Blackburn would always be her person, but Toni didn’t expect to find her people so young. Dottie killed as goalie, and Becca’s sweetness made her defense all the better. But it was Shelby and Toni who were the dynamic duo. Toni had a never ending amount of energy as a midfielder and Shelby’s precision made her the perfect striker. It worked the same way every game, Becca would kick it to Toni, who got it to Shelby, who scored a goal. It got to the point that Becca didn’t even need to do much and the coach had to pull Toni aside to tell her to pass to the other girls too.

At the end of the season they sat together at the team party, wearing orange slice smiles. With sticky fingers they held hands and Toni kinda wondered how someone’s eyes could be so green.

Toni doesn’t remember why Shelby’s parents were so angry about them holding hands, but she knows Mr. Goodkind talked to her foster parents and Toni was off to a different home, in a different district, and she lost even Martha for a few months.

———

At lunch everyone’s talking about that fucking poem. Martha sent it around to the whole school and Leah is discussing its merits with Rachel and Nora. Even they don’t seem bored with the topic, though Nora is sure Quinn didn’t write it.

“It could be Monty,” Leah says. “I wouldn’t have thought he had an eye for this stuff.”

“I don’t think it’s Monty,” Rachel says. She looks at Nora, “C’mon, you know what I’m talking about, right?”

“What?” Nora asks.

“I mean it smells like Anna Akhmatova had a baby with Adrienne Rich,” Rachel says.

“Who had a baby with who?” Martha asks.

“Please,” Fatin says. “You’re not exactly the world’s leading expert on free form poetry.”

“Uh, I know when something’s written by a girl,” Rachel says. “I bet you fifty bucks some closet case wrote this.”

Everyone looks at Toni. “You caught me,” Toni deadpans.

“Rachel’s right,” Nora says. “A girl definitely wrote this. Toni, do you know anyone?”

Toni glares at her. “I’ll shake the lesbian phone tree and see what comes out.”

“Well, could it be Regan?” Martha asks. “Maybe she wants to—”

“It’s not fucking Regan,” Toni grabs her books and stalks out, kicking a chair randomly strewn around away as she did.

She hears Shelby sit down just as she leaves, “What’s got her madder than a baptized cat?” Shelby asks and Toni rolls her eyes.

———

2.) no one ever taught you how to love. your war paint and scarred hands could never hold her like she deserves

The worst of it was that Shelby was gentle. Her hands were warm and soft around Toni’s callouses, and there was a crinkle between her eyebrows as she focused on Toni’s hands. No, the worst of it was that Shelby didn’t let go of Toni’s hands when she finished, kept holding onto them as she met Toni’s eyes.

“Well?”

Toni swallowed hard, “I’m not gonna apologize.”

Shelby sighed, her thumb traced little circles around Toni’s hands. “I know today ain’t easy for you.” Toni scoffed and looked away. “But you know you were pickin' a fight. Andrew promised to leave you alone.”

Toni ripped her hands away and jumped from the bench of the locker room. “What the fuck do you know? You weren’t fucking there.”

Shelby’s calm only made Toni’s anger redder, “You ain’t denying it.”

“Why the fuck are you dating him? He’s a self-satisfied little asshole who just wants a little trophy girlfriend to—”

“Toni,” Shelby cut her off sharply and got to her feet, meeting Toni’s eyes.

“You’re not denying that either,” Toni spat.

She could’ve screamed at the hypocrisy. She wanted to scream. She wanted to pound her fists against the walls and bleed all over the bandages Shelby wrapped around her knuckles. She wanted to hurt, to make Shelby hurt. She wanted everyone to see and feel how hurt she was, and hurt them with that hurt. Finally level the playing field.

“Andrew is my business,” Shelby said. “Not yours.”

“He becomes my business when you—”

“When I what?” Shelby asked.

Toni looked at her hands, “Never mind.”

Shelby sighed, “Martha’s helping you move in today, right? Shel’ll be there the whole time?”

“Don’t pretend you give a shit.”

“Of course I care. The last time you lived with your mom you didn’t eat for a week.”

“I was five, not fifteen,” Toni said. “And seriously, stop pretending you give a shit.”

She shoulder checked Shelby as she walked out and winced at the sound of Shelby hitting the gym lockers. Her hands still sting where Andrew’s teeth had scrapped them.

———

Regan approaches Toni during science, her eyes serious. Martha straightens, and Toni does her best not to make eye contact.

“It’s not mine,” Regan says.

“Yeah duh,” Toni mutters.

Regan frowns, “I just—I didn’t want you to—”

“You made it perfectly clear what you want,” Toni says.

Regan sighs and leaves and Toni regrets it.

“Shelby thinks it’s Marcus,” Martha tells her. Toni blinks up at her and Martha nods. “She thinks he wrote it for me.”

“Martha, that kid is dumber than a box of rocks,” Toni says.

Martha furrows her brow, “Maybe he has hidden depths.”

“If you think it’s him ask him out,” Toni says.

“Shelby thinks it’s him,” Martha is quick to correct. “But he doesn’t even know who I am.”

Toni rolls her eyes. Marcus had been in love with Martha since the ninth grade. They had gotten placed as lab partners and he literally didn’t take his eyes off her the entire time. Every time there was a dance he would always look like he was about to say something, shoot his shot, when Martha would loudly proclaim she couldn’t wait to go with her friends.

Toni would’ve pulled the guy aside and told him to grow a pair, but a guy who’s not brave enough to go after what he wants wasn’t good enough for her Marty, not by a long shot.

“Rachel still thinks a girl wrote it,” Martha says.

“Maybe Rachel wrote it,” Toni mutters.

Martha’s eyes light up.

———

3.) no one has ever loved you this full surely you would drown in it all

Being a lifeguard was the worst. It was super boring, the pay was shit, and also Toni would probably get someone killed. Like, they pretended she was CPR certified but she absolutely had no idea how to do it. She went to some hour long course, slept through it, took a test that was just: should you kill people? And then they wrote some bullshit on some papers about a three week long set of classes.

But Shelby was tanned and golden looking and on their shifts they’d text back and forth about which kids they were betting on to win sharks and minnows. Tweenage boys in all their adolescent infancy would gaze open mouthed at Shelby and Toni alike but Shelby was the only one who let them down gently. Toni would ruin them for girls forever with something enough to cut through even the thickest skin.

On the fourth of July the pool paid for fireworks and Toni found a blanket and Shelby found her and they sat watching the reflections of the lights together. Shelby rested her head on Toni’s shoulder, all gentle, like she was afraid Toni would spook.

“I know this ain’t much of a holiday for you,” Shelby said. “But thank you for spending it with me.”

She had her hand on the blanket, splayed out like she was waiting for Toni to take it, there in front of everyone. Toni imagined a world in which she did.

———

“Yeah it’s not me,” Rachel says. “I wish I could write that good.”

Which is such bullshit because Toni knows Rachel could say well if she wanted to. Rachel’s weird inferiority complex about Nora pisses off Toni to no end. Nora’s the smart one, Rachel will be the first to say, and Rachel’s the athletic one. But Nora has a six minute mile and Rachel has perfect pitch so Toni hates them both.

“Maybe it’s Dot,” Toni suggests and Rachel, Nora, and Martha snicker.

Out of all of them, Martha’s the best driver, but they always end up in Rachel’s car after school anyway.

“Most of the school seems to think it’s by Andrew,” Nora says. Toni’s fists clench.

“Yeah,” Rachel rolls her eyes, “I’m sure he would love to take the credit. C’mon Toni, you don’t know any lesbians who could’ve written this?”

“You’re a lesbian too,” Toni says. “You don’t know any?”

“I don’t have a life outside of the pool,” Rachel says, “and none of them have picked up a book since Hop on Pop.”

“Regan says it wasn’t her,” Martha cuts in helpfully. “But maybe it’s another kid in theatre. Shelby says—”

“Oh my god,” Toni grits out. “What is everyone’s deal with her anyway? Why is everyone still obsessed with her? She’s just another basic Jesus bitch.”

The car goes quiet and Toni wishes she could melt into her seat cushion.

“I didn’t mean that,” Toni says.

“Except you did,” Martha snaps.

Toni winces.

“What’s your deal with her?” Rachel asks. “You guys were fine last year.”

“Quinn says there’s a poetry club,” Nora says. “Maybe it’s someone there?”

No one takes the bait and they don’t talk the rest of the way.

———

4.) she belongs in a museum, and you are merely here to gaze. look around you, all the signs scream ‘do not touch’

“Shelby?”

Toni grabbed the shoulder of the girl and pulled her away from Marcus. Shelby was bruised lips and ruined make up and Toni took her by the hand. Thank god Martha wasn’t here, thank god Andrew wasn’t here, thank god Marcus looked just as trashed.

“Toni?” Shelby sorta stumbled, her ankle twisting painfully on her heel and Toni steadied her.

Shelby could do a cartwheel in six inch heels.

“I’m gonna get you home, okay?” Toni called over the music.

Shelby didn’t really respond, just leant into Toni as she led her away and outside. The party had spilled into the backyard and front yard some, the cops probably already on their way, but everyone was too fucking hammered to notice them making their way out.

Shelby’s house was only about a twenty minute walk but it was cold and Toni was only wearing her basketball shorts and her mom’s jacket that she promptly put over Shelby’s shoulders.

“Are you still—” Shelby swallowed hard, “You’re still living with your mom?”

“Mostly with Martha,” Toni said.

“Martha’s great,” Shelby said. “She’s so pretty it makes my eyes hurt.”

“One of our finest,” Toni grunted as Shelby nearly fell on her heels again.

“She could be a model,” Shelby told her. “We should get waffle house.”

“Shelbs, we’re nowhere near a waffle house.”

“What was Becca’s order? At waffle house?”

Toni sighed, looping an arm around her. “I dunno.”

“Neither do I,” Shelby said.

“I’m sorry, Shelby,” Toni said.

Shelby shook her head and stopped right there, circling her arms around Toni and pressing her into a hug. Toni closed her eyes, holding her back as tightly as she dared.

“Oh, Shelby, I’m so fucking sorry.”

———

“Day two!” Mr. Williams calls. He taps the poem again, “I will investigate the handwriting if the poet doesn’t come forward by Friday. I know it’s someone in one of my classes.”

His eyes narrow as he takes them all in and his eyes don’t linger on Toni. Not even for a moment.

There’s a part of her that wants to march up to the front of the room and write her name down, make eye contact with everyone who never even considered her before. But no one expects shit from her, and even if he does go over the handwriting he won’t really be able to pin it on her. He might not even bother checking to see if it matches.

Toni tries not to jump when Marcus takes the seat in front of her during quant lit. It’s not like they have assigned seating but everyone sticks to the same seats anyway. Marcus won’t get shit for it though, perks of being the quarterback.

“So, listen,” he scratches the back of his head and Toni rolls her eyes at him. “I know we aren’t really friends but I—um.”

“Marcus,” Toni says.

“I wanna ask Martha out,” Marcus rushes out. “She’s like the nicest, smartest, coolest girl in the school and like her eyes are out of this world radical.” Radical? “And I would take her somewhere nice like Olive Garden. Or Cheesecake Factory? And pay for it, and open all the doors for her, and I’d carry her books to class—”

“On your date? This is happening during school?” Toni asks.

His eyebrows furrow as he tries to connect the dots. Football players.

“Oh no! I meant like, after, if she wants me to,” He says. “Can I?”

“Can you what?”

“Can I ask her out?”

Toni blinks at him. “What?”

“My buddy said if you want to get with a girl you get close to the best friend first, and I figured I’d ask you for your blessing because that’s what they do in old fashioned stuff right?” He bounces up in down in his seat. “Can I? Or like, do you wanna give me your blessing?”

She feels like she’s having an aneurysm.

Listen, Marcus having feelings for Martha is one thing. Everyone on the planet who’s ever met Martha falls a little in love with her. That’s kinda just how she operates. Toni narrowly avoided that pitfall by being lucky enough to know her since she was five, but it was a tough time. But Marcus was never gonna act on it. Marcus can’t—he’s the quarterback.

It’s basic math, Marcus is a six foot five football player with shoulders wide enough to bench press the Subaru Forrester Toni’s legally required to buy when she turns thirty-two. He’s got that all American boy smile that shows of perfectly white teeth, and dark hair that sweeps in front of his eyes. His face looks like it was sculpted out of marble, like literally he looks like some sort of roman god, except if that roman god volunteered at the humane society on the weekends and called his mom Mami.

Martha is a res girl who’s best friend is the dyke with anger issues. And like yeah, she’s stupid pretty, but Marcus has exclusively dated varsity cheerleaders since the seventh grade.

So yeah, even if Marcus may have feelings for Marty, everyone fucking does, and there’s a host of reasons why she doesn’t have a date to every dance and a new guy every week. And most of them are the cliche high school movie hierarchy sort.

“It’s really none of my business, man,” she says.

“Dude, it’s totally your business,” Marcus says. He leans closer, “you two are like sisters right? What do I gotta do to prove I’m not gonna hurt her? I’ll do your math homework for a month, no two months.”

A thought occurs to Toni and it’s a terrible one. But when has that ever stopped her?

“You’re in my honors English class right?”

Marcus’s face screws in, “Uh, yeah. But I don’t think you want me doing your homework in there, I’m like totally failing.”

“I have a better idea.”

———

5.) she touches you like youre fragile, and if you break you wont be able put yourself together again

Dot was asleep which was Toni’s first indication that something was deeply wrong. The second was that Shelby wasn’t. She was definitely trying her darnedest, but Toni could tell she was awake. Awake in her arms.

Toni shifted, just enough to let Shelby know she was awake too. The movie was some horror flick, something dumb and flashy and almost muted it was so quiet. It was the only thing rated R that they could all agree on. Dot’s house was the only place they were allowed to watch anything rated R when they were still thirteen, so it was all they watched there.

She felt Shelby shift up, so her head rested on Toni’s chest, shifted until her lips met Toni’s clavicle.

Toni wondered if she’d die.

Shelby went up instead of down, pressing kisses up the length of Toni’s neck, soft barely there things that made Toni’s breath catch as she watched Dot snore on the couch next to them.

Toni’s hands moved to the inside of Shelby’s thighs and they stared there, tracing delicate patterns that only made Shelby curl closer.

“I think you’re probably the most beautiful girl I ever saw,” Shelby whispered.

“I—”

“I’m not done.”

Toni’s mouth clamped shut.

“I think about you all the time,” Shelby whispered. “Even when I—”

“Shelby,” Toni warned. Shelby pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“You’re right,” Shelby said.

Neither of them slept that night.

———

Toni walks into class three minutes late with Mr. Williams, and takes her seat with a sulk.

“He still won’t let me redo that paper,” Toni mutters to Martha who’s eyes are wide.

“Toni, Marcus just—” She nods her head at the poem where Mr. Williams is studying it too.

“Marcus Gonzales?” Mr. Williams asks.

Marcus gets to his feet.

“You wrote this?”

“Yessir.”

“This poem right here?”

“Yessir.”

Mr. Williams blinks and takes off his spectacles, setting them down on the desk. “We’ll talk after class. I should hope everyone has a copy of—”

“I wrote it for Martha,” Marcus doesn’t sit down and the entire class stares at him.

“—Franny and Zooey and I would like you all to turn to page 52. Begin by annotating—”

“Martha, can I take you out on a date?” Marcus asks.

“—this first section, and on to page 64. Remember what Seymour serves as in—”

Martha blushes hard and glances at Toni who smiles before she looks back at Marcus in all his golden boy 6’5” glory.

“Um, okay,” she mutters out and he grins.

“Cool.” Marcus finally sits and gives Toni a thumbs up. She rolls her eyes.

“—this story and compare that to his roles in the other parts of the work we’ve read.”

“I told you it was for you, girl,” Shelby says on Martha’s other side. “People always have a way of surprising you.”

———

6.) she is all bubblegum skies and chapped stick kisses, and you cannot watch the love run out of another persons eyes

They were all a little bit slap happy by the end of the night. A little bit drunk, a little bit high, and laughing far too hard at one another.

“I’m scared,” Shelby told them, still grinning wider than any pageant smile.

“Girl, you picked dare,” Fatin said.

“I did,” Shelby bit her lip. “But all y’all dared Leah to do was finish the vodka.”

“That was—that was bad vodka,” Leah slurred from her position on Dot’s lap.

“But now we’re out of vodka,” Martha sang. “You picked dare.”

“I’ll go with you,” Toni got to her feet, surprised when they were more steady than she assumed they’d be. “Two chairs right?”

“Alright,” Shelby said. “And you’ll hold my hand?”

“Sure princess,” Toni rolled her eyes.

It was an office supply place, probably. The parking lot had this killer decline, and it was one of those spring nights where nothing could really ruin anything. Not forever.

The rolling chairs were kinda gross, left there but not yet picked up by the garbage men. They had to do a special pickup for that, which costed extra. No one in the office had done it for the weeks the girls had been going there after parties.

“Be careful,” Nora urged.

“Don’t fall,” Rachel suggested.

“Hold on, I’m not recording yet,” Fatin said. “Okay now go.”

They pushed off in their rolling chairs, holding hands, and sped down the decline laughing as they barely managed to hold on and steer at the same time.

Toni went flying as she bumped into a patch of grass and for some reason, Shelby went flying with her, landing on top. Toni grunted, but she wasn’t in pain, not really.

They met eyes.

“Sorry,” Shelby said. She didn’t sound sorry.

“You okay?” Toni asked.

Shelby smiled, this real soft thing, Toni wondered what it’d taste like.

“Fuck yeah bitches! I’m so putting that on snapchat!” Fatin screamed and Shelby pulled away, turning white.

“God if this is you in in freshman year, I’m terrified of you as a senior,” Toni called back.

Shelby’s hand slipped out of her’s and Toni tried very very hard not to overthink it.

———

“So I’ve been thinking,” Leah said. Toni took her gym bag out of her locker, pretty much the only thing she kept in there.

“Oh no.”

“Rachel was right about that poem being written by a girl,” Leah continued. “Which meant Marcus lied. And Marcus would never do that unless someone gave him permission to take credit. And since Marcus lied so he could ask Martha out that means the person who wrote the poem wanted Martha to be happy.”

Toni swallowed hard and tried not to fumble with the lock, stumbling with it.

“Toni,” Leah walked over to her. “You need to face the facts: Shelby’s into you.”

Toni blinked, “What?”

“She wrote that whole poem for you, don’t tell me you don’t see it. It’s about you!”

“She—” Toni stopped and furrowed her brow, finally making eye contact with Leah, “You think she wrote that poem for me?”

Leah nodded, “And she let Marcus take the credit. Listen, I know I’m right. I’ve been thinking about it for ages. Whatever fight the two of you had—you need to get over it. She’s into you, Toni. She’s been into you.”

“You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about,” Toni told her. “Seriously, fuck you Leah and fuck off. This is none of your fucking business.”

“You aren’t denying it,” Leah crowed. “Shelby likes you.”

“No she fucking doesn’t!” Toni spat at her. “She fucking hates me! She didn’t write that poem Marcus did! For Martha!”

Leah’s brow furrowed, “But… but you wanted her to. Didn’t you?”

Toni looked away.

“Shelby’s actually straight, isn’t she?” Leah asked. “Fuck Toni.”

“I’m happy for Martha,” Toni said, and marched away.

———

7.) if you jump, she might catch you, and then youd have to watch as she tumbled through the dark

“What if we ran away?” Shelby asked, which was Toni’s third indication that the punch was spiked.

The first two were her arms wrapped around Toni’s waist, swaying in the soft breeze to the distant music of Junior prom.

“Oh yeah?” Toni asked. “Where’d we go?”

“Peru,” Shelby said. “Or LA, or New York or—” Shelby sort of trailed off, losing her thought halfway through it.

“Our parents,” Toni pointed out. She’d moved in with Martha a few months ago but her mom had taken it as a wakeup call, promising to get her shit back together as soon as she could. Toni couldn’t help but believe her, even if it put her in stasis.

“Right,” Shelby sounded cold, “Our parents.”

“Are things worse with them?” Toni asked.

“No,” Shelby said. “The same, really. They’ve lightened up since—since Becca. Have you heard from your mom?”

“Every week or so,” Toni said. “And if you ever need a break you know—“

“Martha is happy to have me,” Shelby finished.

Toni smiled and pulled away enough to meet Shelby’s eyes, her hands slid from behind Shelby’s neck to either side.

“Did I tell you you look beautiful tonight?” Toni asked.

“You did,” Shelby said.

“Can I say it again?”

“You can.”

“You look beautiful tonight.” Shelby closed her eyes and Toni tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “You’re gonna get out, you know that right?”

Shelby nodded, leaning into Toni’s hand.

Later, Toni will learn that was one of two lies Shelby told that night.

———

Martha gets home at 11:30, exactly when Marcus promised, and Toni smiles as her sister collapses backwards into her bed.

“Toni,” she actually giggles, giggles like a little school girl. “It was amazing.”

“Where’d you go?” Toni asks.

“Olive Garden, I think he was trying to win points with you,” Martha says.

“As he should,” Toni nods.

“He was the perfect gentleman,” Martha swoons. She rolls onto her stomach and looks at Toni and oh god, Toni knows that look. “He did tell me something about you, though.”

“Oh yeah? How I’m better in quant lit than him?” Toni asks.

“He told me you wrote the poem,” she says.

Toni looks away, “Okay, and?”

“You told me you were over Regan,” Martha says.

“It’s complicated,” Toni decides. “And whatever. I wrote it awhile ago anyway.”

“Have you thought about submitting it to that contest Mr. Williams was talking about?” Martha asks.

“Can we go back to talking about your date with Prince Charming?” Toni says. Martha acquiesces, she’s too damn giddy to do anything else.

———

8.) her gaze is too gentle. you will not be the one to tell her that not everything can be fixed with a smile

“Toni,” Dot began, and Toni could tell she was looking at her. “Toni, is Shelby—is she gay?”

Toni snickered, “Dot, Shelby is possibly the biggest straight girl in our school. Maybe our state. She’d sooner give herself a buzzcut than she would ever even kiss a girl."

“Andrew said Shelby got a job as a counselor at this church camp—Guiding Light—in Plano,” Dot said. “I wanted to find the address so I could write to her and it’s a conversion camp.”

The breath left Toni’s body.

“What?”

“And I got to thinking,” Dot said. “About what a mess she was after Becca died this year. Ignoring us, going to all those parties, signing up for a crazy number of pageants. Hell, it was only once you two started talking that she talked to us again.”

“Stop it, Dot.”

“Toni is Shelby gay?”

“Dot,” Toni said.

“Because if she’s gay, if she’s not there as a camp counselor—Toni, did you know about this?”

“Of course not! Jesus!” Toni said. She jumped to her feet and started to pace, “Jesus Christ. Oh my god.”

“Toni is Shelby gay?”

Toni looked at Dot and Dot sighed, her entire body sagging.

“What do we do?” Toni asked.

Dot, her solid, steady, friend since fucking youth soccer was silent.

“Dot, what do we do?”

“Dot, what the fuck do we do?”

———

Shelby finds her before school, Toni smoking like she hasn’t since ninth grade when Bernice gave her a stern lecture about lung cancer. It made Toni cry, actually. Not because it was so stern but because Martha and Toni had been separated for three years and Bernice still cared enough to get angry with her. She promised then and there to stop, and each drag she took now makes her feel like she’s committing treason.

“Smokin’ kills,” Shelby tells her, like they didn’t all go to Dot’s dad’s funeral last year.

Toni takes another drag, just to watch Shelby roll her eyes.

“How’d Martha’s date go last night?” Shelby asks.

Toni glares, “Seriously? You avoid me all year and now you’re asking about Martha’s date?” Shelby looks away. “It went fine. Whatever.”

“I just—I was surprised Marcus wrote that poem is all.”

“You literally said multiple times you thought it was him,” Toni says.

“I know, I know but—”

“Still holding out hope for Andrew?” Toni sneers. “Marcus may not be the sharpest tool in the shed but he cares about Martha. Even a fucking idiot could write a half decent poem if they had someone worth writing about.”

Shelby meets her eyes and Toni’s breath catches.

“Know a lot about poetry, Toni?”

Fuck fuck fuck.

Toni flicks the only half used cigarette away. “I have to go to class,” She says, aware it’s just about the worst thing she can do.

Shelby doesn’t even need the last word, she’s aware she’s already won.

———

9.) she is so good. she is so good, and you cannot ruin one more good thing

It hadn’t been the first time Toni found her mom overdosed on the couch, but it’d been the most terrifying. Toni had waited in the school parking lot for a pick up for twenty minutes before Shelby had offered her a ride.

When they trooped inside, after having to use the key Tamera kept tucked away in a loose brick, her mom had been passed out on the couch. And the stupid thing had been that Toni had known her mom hadn’t been doing great. Like she’d known Tamera had lost her job, and was close to losing the car, that the pain in her back had been getting worse again from stress. Toni had known that.

But for some stupid, naive reason, Toni had never thought she’d pull this, go back to who she was.

Her tolerance was low, the doctors had told her, because she’d been clean for so long. She hadn’t realized it and had taken more than she could handle.

Shelby had taken the three of them to the hospital, helped carry Toni’s drooling mother into the ER, and held Toni’s hand until the other girls showed up, who she texted to come.

Shelby had been there when the police and social services came to talk to her about going back into foster care. Shelby had never left her side.

Toni couldn’t help but contrast that to the Shelby she saw now. The Shelby who showed up for senior year was barely christian, barely anything, just sort of blank and empty and waiting to grow up so she could have daughters that'd also wait to grow up so that they could have daughters that’d also wait to grow up so that they could have daughters that’d also

Shelby didn’t even look at her, for the first week of senior year she didn’t even look at Toni. She talked with Martha in that faux friendly way, she passed off on lunch invitations to do school work and Toni felt like she was going insane.

Sometimes she would just stare at the back of Shelby’s head in English class, writing whatever gibberish came to mind, and not listening to Mr. Williams at all. Just stare, for forty-five minutes, at a girl who wouldn’t even make eye contact, Toni’s pencil moving rapidly as she barely even glanced at the words her hands produced.

On the last day of the semester Toni finally looked away and came to two realizations:

a. Her mother was never getting better. Not really. b. Toni had written P E R U over forty times in her notebook.

As quietly as she could she tore the page out, and maybe about fifteen pages behind it, filled with similar drivel and recycled them at the end of class.

When the next semester started the seats were changed and something she’d written that she barely remembered was on the board.

Her mother was still in rehab.

———

Toni watches Marcus carry Martha’s backpack to class and watches as Martha giggles at him, argues with him. She is literally so happy it makes Toni’s heart burst.

“Shelby’s quite the matchmaker, huh?” Fatin asks.

Toni looks at her.

“Leah told me,” Fatin explains.

Toni rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, that’s what I said too,” Fatin says. “Leah’s good at noticing things but putting the pieces together is not her strong suit. So I called Dorothy.”

This makes Toni’s shoulders tense and Fatin wraps an arm around them.

“Dorothy didn’t want to talk but what she didn’t say was enough.” Fatin sighs, “I’m all for a little drama but this is cutting into my me time.”

“What going from twenty-four hours a day to twenty-three and a half?” Toni asks.

“God forbid,” Fatin nods sagely. “I didn’t know you could write.”

“I can’t.”

“Clearly not.”

Toni slips out from under her arm, and follows Martha into class. Mr. Williams glares as she comes in and Toni realizes if Marcus came clean to Martha he definitely came clean to Mr. Williams. At least the poem is off the board.

When he passes out papers from a recent essay her’s has a “see me after class” sticker that makes Toni slide down in her seat. Martha doesn’t even notice enough to give her an odd look because she and Shelby are yukking it up about the quarterback.

When everyone files out she hangs back and he looks at her, over his spectacles.

“I’m disappointed,” he says at last.

Toni scoffs.

“You write essays based off spark notes, you never participate, and half the time you don’t even do the homework. But you write this.” He slides the crumpled paper over his desk, her poem shining back at her. “So all I can conclude is that you’re lazy.”

Yeah, obviously.

“Why did you have Marcus tell everyone he wrote it?” Mr. Williams asks.

“So he could ask out Martha.”

“He didn’t need to have written the poem to do that,” Mr. Williams says.

“Can I go?” Toni asks.

“I want to submit this poem to a contest, I want you to start trying in this class, and this,” he hands her a slip of paper with about twenty sets of numbers on it, “is a list of Dickinson poems I want you to read by next week. Pick at least three to write me at least a page about. Single spaced.”

“What?” Toni asks, “You can’t make me do that.”

“I know half the kids in this class write off spark notes, I can easily have them all—including you—fail. So yes, yes I can actually.” He takes off his spectacles and Toni glares at him. “You’re a smart kid, Toni. You’ve got a talent for this.”

Toni shakes her head, “I’m a one hit wonder.”

“You know Britney Spears said the same thing after Baby One More Time.”

“That’s not true,” Toni says.

“Yeah,” Mr. Williams says. “Because she kept working at it.”

And Toni takes the slip of paper with the numbers on it, and marches to her next class and he watches her the whole way, not bothering to put on his stupid spectacles.

———

10.) you will not watch her crumble under the weight of your sins. she is too light, too breathless to be caught up in the dizziness of your heart

Dot didn’t invite them all to the funeral but they came anyway, even Shelby who Toni knew had been waffling back and forth.

Some of his army friends showed up, a doctor or two, and Mateo—the hot nurse Dot steadily ignored. It was a small and quiet service, and the seven of them sat towards the back, holding steady for her.

There was too much on Dot’s shoulders, there always had been, but she didn’t look any freer now that the burden was lifted. She just looked scared, small, and sad.

Toni couldn’t help but wonder if that was what she’d look like, if she got the call about her mom. It was a terribly selfish thought but who could blame her?

Shelby’s hands interlocked with hers, in broad daylight, and stayed there for the entire day. When Toni met her eyes she saw pure terror reflected back at her.

God, were they really only seventeen?

———

Rachel is complaining at lunch about owing Nora five bucks, how she was so sure some closet case wrote the poem but it’s no surprise Nora got it right.

Fatin and Leah don’t contribute and Martha probably wouldn’t have either except she was eating lunch with Marcus, they had found their own little table and were smiling at one another.

“They’re certainly cute together,” Shelby says, glancing back at Martha and Marcus.

“I say it’s weird they have the same name,” Rachel says.

“Says the girl who dated a guy named Raymond,” Nora says.

Rachel throws a straw wrapper at him, “That was a phase and you know it.”

“Marcus is sweet,” Shelby says. “If anyone deserves someone sweet it’s Martha.”

“Don’t you think he’s a little,” Leah trailed off and they all looked at her. “You know a little…”

“Spit it out, Leah,” Rachel says.

“Like the porch lights on but no one’s home?” Leah says.

“Martha is smart enough for the both of them,” Toni says. “And thank god because I was sick of doing his homework in quant lit.”

“That’s literally the easiest math class there is,” Fatin says and Toni shrugs.

“What’s that?” Shelby asks, pointing at the yellow slip sticking out of Toni’s binder.

“Some extra credit stuff, from Williams. Apparently I’m not doing so hot in that class,” Toni says.

Rachel leans way over from the other end of the table. “What is that, Dickinson?”

“It’s a list of numbers,” Shelby says. “Why would it be Dickinson?”

“All of Dickinson’s poems were numbered. It was only after she died that other people named them,” Nora says.

“And Nora said it so you know it’s true,” Rachel smirks.

“Join the fucking club,” Dot says to Toni. “I don’t know why y’all didn’t take non-honors English twelve with me. We just sit around and talk about whatever football game was on the most recently.”

“Well I’ve never liked football so.” Toni gets up, “I’ve gotta talk to my science teacher. I’ll see you guys after school.”

“I’ll go with you,” Shelby smiles and Toni clenches her jaw. “Ms. Roberts said I needed to rework my psych paper.”

“See you guys,” Rachel says and as they leave she’s arguing with Dot about why football is stupid and Toni can feel Fatin’s eyes on her all the way out.

———

reasons to kiss her

1.) she loves you, and her eyes are closed, and didnt your mother ever tell you not to leave a good thing waiting

Toni hated the magnet program kids at her middle school. Like everyone not in their cluster she found them annoying, rich, and privileged as fuck. They only hung out with each other and it was clear they’d never give—

———

“Toni?”

The stair well is empty, it’s the short cut through the language hallway and no one goes there during lunch.

Toni is working hard on ignoring Shelby but is forced to turn around when Shelby stops halfway up.

“Ms. Roberts doesn’t need me to rework my psych paper.”

Toni stares at her.

Shelby takes a step up, one step closer to Toni.

“I had hoped maybe you wrote it for Regan,” Shelby says.

“No such luck,” Toni croaks out.

“That’s a lot of reasons not to kiss someone,” Shelby says. “You’d think if you really shouldn’t kiss someone you’d only need the one.” She takes another step up, until they’re only separated by a few inches.

“I guess,” Toni says.

“Are you really gonna keep me waiting?” Shelby says.

Toni blinks, “You mean you still—”

“I have to do everything myself,” Shelby says.

She kisses her.

#did something different with time than i usually do #and with structure #lmk what you think #shoni #the wilds fanfic #the wilds #goodfoe fanfic #goodfoe #shelby goodkind #toni shalifoe #gus writes #ren don’t

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rodeoxqueen · 3 years

Text

AWAS

CHAPTER ONE: BE NOT AFRAID

“Dante and Vergil return from Hell to tie up loose ends from their year-long absence. While they seek a sense of normalcy, the fates send them anything but.”

Contents: Violence, Blood and Gore, Brotherly Banter, Explicit Language, Slight Angst

Rodeo’s Two Pieces:

I'm very excited to show y'all what I have been working on since hell, November of 2020. Thank you kindly for sticking around.

Back to the present, where the world turned on its axis for months without the weight of the blood of Sparda upon itself, the tides had changed.

In the midnight, had the stars laid witness to the damn near impossible. A portal had opened from the underworld, and two brothers stumbled out. Clutching their swords, Dante and Vergil reunited with the human realm.

How long had it been? Of endless violence and humorous quips thrown at the other, as the years of the gnashing of teeth smoothened the rough patches of their disjointed childhoods?

“We’re back, Verg.” Dante chuckled, arm over his brother’s shoulder.

“We are.” Vergil echoed. The obnoxious weight fell off of him and landed on the ground with a thud.

Dante had got on his knees and kissed the earth that they now stood on.

“Don’t be a fool,” Vergil said, staring at the moon. After years of wanting to become one with Hell, he tilted the false king’s crown to admire the clear sky.

Dante rolled to the ground, sighing in relief.

“We’re back.” He repeated. His brother nudged him with the Yamato.

“Get up. We must find our way back.” Eyes closed and a grin across his face, Dante let the wind pass through his bloodied and matted hair.

“Now we sound like a real team.” Vergil scoffed.

After a few moments, Dante got back up. They had arrived back from Hell to a cliffside overlooking a city that was not Redgrave.

“I assume you have unfinished business in Redgrave.” Dante nodded.

“I sure do.”

The portal became a forgotten relic, the Sparda brothers nowhere to be seen, their demonic presence known to the world.

Dante was known for many things, but mainly for how much of a constant he had remained in everyone’s lives. Never changing, staying the same as he was, an unstoppable force of sarcastic expression.

And also a huge manchild.

Vergil rubbed his temples in frustration.

“Dante. When I referred to unfinished business, I was clearly referring to your shop.”

“Yeah? And I was referring to this.” Dante bit into another slice of pizza, practically moaning.

Vergil sat ramrod straight, sitting awkwardly in a pizzeria. The two were the elephants in the room, both slathered in demonic gore and toting swords. People either gawked or left the establishment.

“You are still an idiot after all this time.”

“Yeah, and I’m also still hungry.”

“Surely your business is more important than this.”

“Meh.”

The blue devil waited for him to finish an hour later, the long-held bill lengthening after months of his absence.

Of course, he had to have indulged a few pieces of his own. It was nothing like the gaminess of demon flesh he had forced himself to sustain upon. It was almost melting in his mouth, unlike the resistance of the shank of a demon. He was never one for vegetables as a child, Dante even more so. Yet the crunch of the toppings was well-received to Vergil, deprived of basic human sustenance for a few odd decades.

However, he found it unthinkable Dante would continue to indulge himself in this for as long as he did.

The door reopened and closed once more to reveal the broad daylight of the streets. Clean, pristine, the sounds of cars and people filled in the crisp air.

Vergil’s boots walked upon a paved road for the first time in ages, man-made and unassuming concrete with stubborn weeds growing from the crevices. No mouth-having crimson blooms that grew to a man’s height. Just simple creatures that fell softly to his weight on their fragile stems.

He had never been here before, where Dante claimed to be his home.

“What’s after this for you, Vergil?” Dante asked his brother, swiping a few demons out of his way.

Vergil, also in his triggered form, huffed a dismissive sigh.

“You know, you should stay with me. Devil May Cry’s always got a spare couch to crash on.”

“Why would I do that?” He slashed a horned devil in two, spewed in putrid green blood. Dante chuckled, knowing there was hesitance in his voice.

“Because I’m offering, big brother. When’s the last time you’ve had a place to call home?”

“I believe you know the answer to that question.” Vergil slid onto his knees under a crouching demon, disemboweling it from top-down. A final gunshot rang his ears, a noise he had to get used to with Dante’s reliance on firearms.

Dull thuds and a flash of red, Dante stood above his brother, offering a now-human hand.

The horde was cleared away like dust on a counter, gone with the wind. Vergil and Dante stood in silence, two children again.

The younger pulled his brother up, insistent stubbornness in his eyes.

“I didn’t hear a no to my offer, Vergil.” Vergil sighed, releasing his hold of his brother’s hand.

“You did not hear a yes either.” Dante chuckled, following his already-leaving brother.

From the past to the present, Vergil’s answer had been neither, never spoken of what he was to do after everything. Yet here he was, now the latter of the two when it came to guidance.

There were many ways the two could have made their entrance to Devil May Cry and have it be a smooth transition back from months of Hell. Dante kicking down the door with a loud “I’m back baby!” was simply not one of them.

Vergil saw that a familiar dark-haired woman was sitting on the desk, absent-mindedly waiting for Trish to return. A girl who once blamed him for her father’s corruption, now a woman with no heed to his presence.

Lady had dropped her nail file, eyes wide at the sight of the two brothers.

“Dante,” Lady whispered as if she was greeting a ghost.

“Yep, it’s me. In the flesh.”

“Dante…”

“Did you miss me? Love what you did to the place.” Dante commented at the cleaned-up shop.

Her face of still confusion warped into anger.

“Dante!”

“Oh boy.”

The next thing he knows, Vergil watches his brother get lectured like a dog. Standing up yet with the attitude of a man in a fetal position, Dante let himself become used to the sound of their tirades once more.

“You had the audacity to give the deed to Morrison. Crazy bitches?! Really!” Dante shrugged.

“I mean if I barked up your tree all day you’d be calling me a-”

“Hey, Lady.” Trish walked into the shop, icily glancing at the two brothers.

“Look at what the hellhound dragged in.” Lady pointed to Dante and Vergil.

“Oh please, I could smell them from a mile away.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Hell doesn’t have any spas. Shame we couldn’t freshen ourselves up before coming here.” Dante sassed. Trish gave a pointed look.

“As much as it was nice to do some hot girl things, we could put Dumb and Dumber to good work.”

“What are you talking about?”

Lady gave a toothy smile.

“How do you think we got this place managed? Money. Money that you now owe us.”

“Hey! I never said you had to do anything.”

“You’d be real upset if we didn’t do anything either, Dante.”

Finally, after sitting through an eternity of harsh words and steep bills, Dante had more than ever landed himself in shambles. Again. At least he was liberated to take a shower. After Vergil of course.

He was surprised to find that the water was still running, and even more elated that it was hot water. Man, maybe paying the bills was a good thing. It felt like ages of grime and gore had been swept off his skin, his hair finally a familiar stark white. In the steam of the bathroom, he breathed out relief.

When he stepped out, he was surprised to see Vergil laying on his bed completely asleep. Usually uptight and composed, Vergil curled in on himself wearing some of Dante’s clean sweatpants that caught dust from all the months they were gone.

With a smile on his face, Dante chose the couch for once and didn’t complain.

They all deserved rest, Dante taking his nap with a magazine on his face. Future Dante could deal with this.

He never expected there to be any neater ends than the frayed knots he left in his human affairs. Yet, he wasn’t alone this time. Neither of them was.

The next few days, Dante gave his nephew a call. Well, more like Nero called him and Dante finally picked up.

Vergil had gotten up after days of practical unconsciousness, foreign to the comfort of a bed, a place to stay, yet much obliged to remain where he laid.

He came down the stairs, rubbing his eyes still. Dante’s voice was muffled until he was in the same room, Dante speaking through the phone to his son.

“Hey, your old man’s here.” Vergil shook his head, having no interest to answer, yet Dante kept waving the phone in his face.

Taking the phone, Vergil heard his son take a breath.

“Hey, Vergil. Nice to see you back from Hell. Um, can’t imagine that was a fun time.” Nero said, unknowing of how to speak to his stranger of a father.

“Indeed.” Dante face-palmed, sitting with another one of his accursed magazines.

“Yeah, um. I have your book.”

“Hmm.” Nero sighed.

“Do you want it back? I’m coming over soon for business reasons.” A hint of desperation and embarrassment from Nero went over Vergil’s bedhead.

“That would suffice…”

“Alright-”

“Thank you, Nero.” Vergil blurted, seeing Dante mouth the words “say thank you.”

Nero stopped for a minute, a few moments of silence on Vergil’s side.

“No problem...Vergil. I got to go. Take care, alright?” Vergil hmmed as a response. The line went dead.

Dante’s grin immensely irritated Vergil, a man who was incapable of second-hand embarrassment.

“Stop that. Wipe that expression off your face. You wanted a conversation with me and Nero, there you have it.”

Dante propped his face up with his hand, a cat that ate the canary.

“Nah.”

Vergil growled in annoyance.

Unfortunately for Dante, and luckily for Vergil, bills had to be paid and jobs to be done. Morrison had arrived a few days later, pleased to see an old friend returned from the underworld. Walking in, he was barely surprised that the shop had returned to a pig-sty appearance.

“Morrison! Nice to see you again.” Dante welcomed, sitting at his desk. Vergil eyed the unfamiliar man, reading through a book.

“Got a new job for you boys. About time you got those girls off your backs about having your little vacation in Hell.” A familiar smell of cigar smoke traced the air, Dante leaning back on his chair, intrigued.

“So Morrison, what nasty demonic critters does this gig entail?” Dante asked, arms crossed.

“There’s a demon runnin’ around towns, causing a lot of trouble.” Morrison placed a photo down, blurred and poorly taken. Although, the grotesque purple skin and rippling eyes on its body didn’t leave much to admire.

“Huh,” Dante mumbled. Vergil examined the picture.

“I’ve never seen a demon like this before. Sure is ugly, though.” Dante noted, pointing at a flat and angular head, pallid yellow eyes that bulge out of its sockets on the sides, and needle-like teeth in multitudes.

“My sources say it’s been going North, the last town they passed was here. Just this morning. It’s making some distance, I’d get to it as soon as you can.” Morrison revealed a map, a red circle around a certain landmark.

“It’s scaring the shit out of people and causing some casualties to be contained.”

“Alright, we’ll take ‘em.” Dante stuck his hand out, expecting cash. Morrison tutted, patting Dante’s shoulder.

“You’ve been spoiled, Dante. Nah, you’re gonna bag this son of a bitch and then we can talk about payment.”

Dante groaned, taking the job. Morrison tipped his hat to Vergil. Vergil glared in return.

“It’s been nice catching up with you boys.” He called out, leaving the shop.

The door thudded as it shut, and the two were alone once more.

“Well, we just got our get-out-of-jail card. Come on, let’s get going.” Dante grunted.

“Must you complain about everything?” Vergil muttered.

Outside, it was late morning with a slight breeze. The familiar sounds of a motorcycle came to Vergil’s attention.

Dante had sat on Cavalier, expecting Vergil to get on.

“Must you rely on that garish thing?”

“It’s too bad you can’t fucking teleport somewhere you’ve never been. Get on the motorcycle.”

Dante patted the seat, Vergil obeying for once.

“Ready for your first job?”

“More than you are.”

They tore through the streets of Redgrave, going north.

The sun rose and started to fall, endless roads leading through towns and cities that paid them only a slight turn of their heads.

The map’s glaring red bullseye had become a dead-end of sorts, the two resorting to walking instead.

Redgrave had always felt muggy with the air of hell creatures around. Here, in this unmarked territory, it had felt clearer. But also more unsettling, the idea of a demon scuttling about more of an awful surprise.

They felt consumed by the empty streets, busted in windows, and vacated shops and residential places in their lonesome wandering.

Something before had wiped this location clean of humans, and now something else was lingering in its place.

“This area has been abandoned.” Vergil walked over giant cracks through the ground, leading to a deserted town.

“Not surprised,” Dante answered, thinking about a certain tree, “good thing we don’t have to deal with any more civilians.”

A buzz in his blood reminded Dante that something was certainly there. The alleys were a perfect spot for creatures to linger, waiting for prey.

As below, so above. A ringing through the air was quickly parried by steel. Dante’s sword stopped a shower of needles from stabbing him, a stray one cutting the side of his cheek. It jolted him as a creature bounded the rooftops of the buildings, a hulking mass of reptilian skin.

Vergil raced after the creature, having blocked all the assailant’s long-distance attacks. Claws dug through the tiles, running on all fours from rooftops to silently treading the paved roads.

It’s clearly after an objective.

Dante chased after the beast from the ground, firing shots at the agile demon. Vergil jumped buildings, gritting his teeth at the demon’s inherent ability to evade and attack back, dodging tail spikes.

The streets all lead to the town center, where a fountain long cleaved in two from giant roots, stood.

Dante and Vergil came across the demon, purple skin stretched over its pointed bones, facing a cloaked individual.

“Hey, pal-” Dante was shushed by Vergil, the two standing a distance away from the hunched-over beast, much taller than either of them when standing on its hind legs.

Neither of them had expected another person in this area, clearly an oddity in the shambles of civilization.

“Famulus. Servant of Raphael.” A rumbling growl echoed in the night in response.

“I’m obliged, filthy halfling.” It hissed, crouched over and leaning to leer to the monotonous voice.

“You will tell me where he is.”

“His brothers may have underestimated you, but my master has known of your presence. Sending his best, I, to exterminate you.”

The person said nothing, as all that was all that needed to be said.

“Looks like we found it’s been searching for,” Dante mentioned, alerting the attention of the formidable monster and unassuming humanoid.

Glazed-over eyes narrowed with bloodlust met the twins as they readied themselves for anything.

“I will bring Raphael the heads of Sparda, once I am done with you.”

The hooded stranger turned their head to the two. With their face void of any expression, the twins had no idea what to think of them.

A pulse went through the air, Dante and Vergil’s skin jolting at a sudden warm wave in the air. Milliseconds after, a rotating ring of golden energy rattled through the stones, passing through the spaces in the pavement that lead to Dante’s boots.

Vergil and Dante were thrown like ragdolls meters away by an unseen force, Dante hitting the ground twice and rolling to a stop as Vergil stuck a landing with the Yamato through the floor.

A golden sphere surrounded the bruise-colored demon and the humanoid, who cocked their head in a disinterested manner, glaring at the taller creature.

Dante touched the wall before them, warm and pulsing with life. Despite the magnitude, he noted how it didn’t seem to hurt him, only pushing back from his own applied pressure.

Vergil paid it no mind, conflict occurring right before their eyes.

Famulus lunged at the smaller person who dodged, hands grappling at a giant maw, throwing its body to the barrier.

Tail spikes unfurled and bristling, Famulus’ hackles rose.

On hind legs, the demon stood well-over the miscreant, who allowed the beast to come to them. No matter how fast Famulus struck, claws phased through the empty air where it expected pliant flesh. Even swipes of its giant tail between quick strikes and heavy blows had been easily dodged.

A rain shower of blade-like projectiles flew at them, their body dropping down to avoid several. Dozens stuck above where their head was, a near fatality.

A needle whistled as it was caught by a calloused hand, palm tightly wrapped around the quill aiming for their chest. Several had torn through their cloak, nearly pinning them to the ground. They let out a startled noise, moving themselves up.

Famulus ran at them, prepared to rip them apart while they were down. Surely a cowardly move than preferred, but a move nonetheless.

They whipped their head around, jaw gritted. The same clutched quill was thrown like a javelin straight into Famulus’ snout.

Pulsating pain and white-hot agony made the beast screech, purple flesh burnt and smoking.

They shook themselves free of any spikes, clad in ancient robes. Nothing a common human would wear now. Even a demon could tell something was off about this one creature in human skin.

This was no common miscreant come to place vengeance upon its master. Raphael had requested Famulus to obliterate this insect as if none of his lord’s underlings could defeat them.

You shall return them to their grave, Famulus. A low gravelly voice rang through the demon’s head, a present message. The snake-like eye in the middle of its forehead rolled back and returned when its master’s command became silent.

“Yes, I shall.”

The foe stiffened as if they had gotten the answer they had been looking for. Famulus knew that. And like the devil it was, it goaded their curiosity.

“You will never make it to my master’s domain. I will gnaw on your bones, putrid being.”

If only if Famulus knew that there was no goading a foe that was already plotting several paces ahead.

Lashing out, a meter-long arrow-like appendage was fired at them once more while the demon began to collect its true power from the air around it.

It missed the mark, sinking into the ground to have the intended target land upon the blunt end, balancing coyly. Several more jabbed at the barrier, sticking into the protective sphere as the cloaked being ducked and turned to avoid scythe-like claws and disemboweling long-distance attacks. Famulus struck a blow that surely meant death, supposedly cornering the prey, until they vanished in thin air. A hazy afterimage materialized and faded away, swiped into nothing.

Immediately, they appeared to the side of the demon, who just began to rear its head to perceive this teleportation.

Legs bent as they were parallel to the ground, they drop-kicked the reptilian brute, scaly skin rippling at the impact.

Famulus’s neck snapped the wrong way, letting out a moist creaking noise as the body stayed stubbornly rooted to the ground. Incapacitated, it could not stop the smaller fighter from leaping onto a begotten tail spike from the ceiling of the barrier, yanking it, and falling back down to its capitulum.

The hooked and jagged arrowhead bit through toughened flesh, securing them to the flat of its head, glowing hand pressing against the middle eye, the key to finding Raphael.

A once distinguished demon, Famulus lashed its head about like a common beast. The joints in its neck realigned, sickening crunches with each segment joined.

Pushing their energy into the convulsing eye, Famulus felt its connection to its lord become not of its own.

Paralyzed from the sensation of a pulling force, tugging away at flesh, and seeping their own life force into it, digging into its mind, Famulus’ muscles twitched and convulsed like an animal to be dissected.

Famulus snarled to itself.

The veins leading to the spike stuck in its head pulsed, conducting electricity straight to the open palm. A strained cry left their mouth as they relented their hold.

The final twist of its head thrashed them off to hit the ground.

Flashing images of a lair, of an iron throne, flashed through its mind.

Famulus had failed to hide his master’s location. And with that, its murderous intent grew.

Despite the finality of its fate, its tail swished with anger and boiling rage to either do the job or keel over in defeat.

The thief got up with little grace again.

Its many eyes had noticed the bloodstains within their cloaked form, old wounds from recent battles. There wasn’t much damage left for them to take.

No one could dodge the Mjölnir.

Dante felt the hairs on his arms stand at full attention. Brows crossed, the older Sparda swiped through bits of his hair that lilted up from their slicked-back position.

“Hey, do you feel that-”

A beam of dark lightning was emitted from Famulus’s tail, striking straight into the opponent’s chest, shards of pure energy slicing through the air with a symphony of cracks rattling the street. Several pebbles flitted off the earth, scorching hot.

The lightning was overpowering, the cries of the stricken muted, body curling to itself with arms stiffening at the chest.

Dante and Vergil both believed defeat was imminent, preparing to have to take out the demon themselves.

When the flashes of demonic power died down, Famulus had witnessed the impossible.

Even with the golden shroud having been faltered, the thunderstruck figure had not been smitten.

Famulus’s needle-tooth grin dropped at the turn of events, rearing back on all fours.

Black lightning danced off their skin, flickering yellow sparks onto the cobblestones.

“No one of that stature could be capable of such an atrocity, and still be human.” Vergil thought to himself.

Famulus was the strongest of the Pessulum litter, demons that nursed from the deadliest of storms to emerge the top of their species. The demon had killed bigger and stronger with less than it had exhibited today.

And now, this runt of a creature had stood against it with no fear, not even close to death? Taking its strongest attack with no problem?

A rush of fear chilled its electrified veins. Stories of the being, whispers amongst Raphael’s underlings, its master’s own grinding teeth at the news of his brothers and their sudden falling, proven true by the might of this mysterious being.

Famulus would live with no merit to his name, scorned by Raphael, seen as less by its inferiors.

“If that does not kill you then I will!” Famulus jumped, claws extended like scythes to slice flesh to ribbons.

Clumsily taking one step forward, tense arms fought back to form one hand pointing to the snout of the devil, the other to the skies.

The thunder was released from its subjugation, deafening annihilation.

A blinding beam of sheer gilden lightning shot right into the demon, many opaque eyes centering at the color of death. Through the other hand, thunderbolts went off like firecrackers into the atmosphere, exploding rapidly and chaotically.

“Holy shit,” Dante exclaimed, sparks dancing off the paved path and flittering in the air.

Vergil ground his heels to the ground, the frontward force of the explosion pushing against him.

The blow sank into purpled flesh, veins and nerves turned from putrid black to nearly white, keeping the demon trapped in the air, still positioned to pounce and disembowel. Famulus didn’t even make any noise, the renowned servant burned alive.

Seethingly hot, with the very air molecules shaking at the display, the twins watched skin and bone become ash and dust. Killed by one’s trump card.

Not even a fallen tail spike was left, the aftershocks settling the twice-over-cremated remains scattering to the wind.

The redirection of the lightning strike had taken a toll on the hooded figure, who straightened up shakily, face revealed for all to see.

A pair of eyes were two suns in the dead of night, a contrast to the light blue ones that perceived them.

Standing alone, centered by destroyed store windows and melted streetlights, they seemed impassive to their might. It was as if they weren’t just blasted with lightning, where their fabric was scorched the only evidence of the offense.

Dante and Vergil didn’t know what to do, not knowing if this person would attack them as well.

They stayed where they were, the moon right above their head, shining around their crown of messy hair.

“Be not afraid.”

Voice hoarse, their mouth moved differently than to the words they just called out.

Before the twins could think of anything to say, the figure beyond them collapsed.

Vergil was silent, still processing all of this. Who was this person? What were they looking for? Who was Raphael?

Dante rushed forward, heavy footsteps raising ashes from their resting place.

Vergil followed, the Yamato ready to be unleashed at any hesitation.

Dante turned them over, noting the strange force surrounding them had remained. As if someone larger was there.

A human face from under the worn, textile cloak greeted them, exhausted and at peace with unconsciousness.

Two lines dripped down their face from their nose. Bleeding crimson, a human above all. In-and-out, slow breaths moved their chest just enough to know they were alive.

“A half-demon?” Vergil questioned himself.

“If they killed the demon, do we have to split the cash with them?” Dante blurted. Vergil raised an eyebrow at the inquiry.

Before he could retort, Dante had lifted them, their stature dwarfed in strong arms.

“Let’s ask them when they wake up.”

“Dante, you are not bringing that thing back.”

“You’re right. I’m not. You are. Open a portal.” He said with a shit-eating grin.

Vergil reluctantly did so, the Yamato ripping open the fabric of space. He would regret this, he was sure of it.

#dante and vergil finally arrive #vergil x reader #dante x reader #devil may cry #vergil sparda #dante sparda #nero sparda #lady devil may cry #dmc trish #devil may cry series #series #AWAS

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