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sallownights · 1 year

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out of the woods

word count: 2.1k

CW: angst? idk. hurt/comfort, fluff, suggestive themes i suppose (they make out)

pairing: sebastian sallow x reader

A/N: i just love the song out of the woods. SUE ME. sebastian is still so reputation though

the forbidden forest was always dark in nature. despite the constant fog that clouded the floor, the trees that seem to stretch forever, the not so distant howling from a mongrel, the forest was eerie.

y/n wasn’t scared of it though. they constantly ventured out, sometimes with a friend, most of the time alone. whenever she was overly stressed or anxious she would go out. whether to go catch some new beasts for her vivariums or for a little fighting spree, she could clear her head.

today was no different. with the idea of clearing out poacher camps, y/n made plans to go out on their own. not too soon after that plan was formed did a freckled boy decide to join them.

she was a little frustrated at first. wanting to go alone. needing to be alone. however, whenever sebastian smiled at her, she couldn’t help but say yes to what he needed.

while walking through the forest, y/n leading, getting more jaded with every snap of twigs breaking behind her. the soft howl of the wind doing nothing to ease the overstimulation she’s facing.

snap

silence. she takes a second to breathe.

snap

“sebastian, can we stop for a second?” sebastian’s footsteps stop. y/n squats down to put her head down for a moment.

‘deep breaths, one… two… three’

“are you alright?” y/n is ripped from her focus by the slytherin. she lifts her head, looking forward. not bothering to see the boy behind her.

y/n shakily stands.

“of course, let’s keep going.” y/n keeps walking, smelling smoke semi near her and tries to head in that direction.

“we can stop if you need, y/n”

“no, no, it’s alright. i think there’s a camp ahead.” y/n can feels sebastian staring at her. y/n doesn’t dare to turn around. not to see the face a worry she know he’s sporting.

y/n sees a yellow tent ahead, quickly casting the disillusionment charm, sneaking up to bushes close to the tent.

“how many?” y/n hears a low whisper in her ear. normally it would send shivers down her spine but as of right now, but she didn’t get that luxury. she feels her grip tighten around her wand.

“looks to be just two. there’s a fwooper in a cage.” y/n moves forward seeing a barrel. the ancient magic flowing through her, she throws the barrel against an unsuspecting poacher. then turning the other one into an explosive barrel, leaving them for a moment. she focuses on the one still delirious from a barrel being hurled at their head. casting accio, followed by confringo and a few basic casts, it rendered the poacher unconscious.

she turns back to the poacher she turned into a barrel. y/n hearing the blood pumping in her ears. she using some of her ancient magic, bringing it closer to her before she can launch it, just as sebastian casts bombarda causing the barrel to explode close to y/n.

y/n gets blown back, her ears ringing. her body on fire before she feels it getting extinguished almost as fast as it was alight. she pushes herself to her elbows slowly opening her eyes.

sebastian’s above her, holding her cheek with one hand. she can see his mouth moving but cannot hear him. the ringing not subsiding. y/n lifts her hand to her ear, straining due to the pain for being forced backwards to the ground.

sebastian’s other hand finds hers and y/n pushing down on her ear.

“can you hear me?” y/n can see sebastian’s mouth moving again but no sound greeted her ears.

y/n looks around, both of the poachers are down, the fwooper is still in the cage. y/n looks to sebastian, his eyes searching hers. the worry in the air is palpable. y/n takes his hand, that’s never left hers, and points to the fwooper. sebastian’s head doesn’t move. y/n takes her other hand and lightly moves his head and he finally breaks eye contact with her. he looks back to y/n.

“the fwooper?” y/n nods, taking a guess at what he said.

sebastian stands and quickly moves to let the fwooper out. the moment the cage is open he goes back to y/n.

y/n tries to bring herself to her feet, before she stumbles, sebastian’s arms are around her. when she’s fully standing she brings her hands to her ears again. the ringing finally subsiding enough to hear sebastian apologizing against her head.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t know, i- it’s my fault.” y/n backs up from sebastian despite his tight grip on her. she moves her hands to his forearms.

“it’s alright. i’m okay.”

“no, no. don’t do that. i know you’re not okay. i’m so sorry.” sebastian’s eyes are full of unshed tears.

“it’s not your fault sebastian. i promise.” y/n wraps her arms around sebastian’s waist. sebastian brings her into a tight hug, causing a bit of pain to y/n. he places a hand on her back and another in her hair.

“i thought-“ sebastian’s statement dying on his lips when he feels y/n’s shoulders shaking against him.

“love?” he pulls back a little bit to see y/n. she doesn’t look up. bringing her hands to her face.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry. i shouldn’t be crying.” y/n says into her hands as she sobs.

sebastian brings her back into a hug, rubbing his hand up and down y/n’s back. he kisses the top of her head whispering how sorry he is for practically blowing her up.

y/n wraps her arms around sebastian, again.

“do you want to talk about it, darling?” y/n nods against him, breathing in his distinct smell of old tomes.

“not here, though. undercroft, maybe?” sebastian’s nods before kissing the top of y/n’s head again. he pulls away from the hug, taking her hand and starts walking towards the castle.

after the hour walk back to the castle and sebastian leading y/n, never letting go of her hand until she started to struggle to walk. he wraps his arm around her waist to help her. when they get to the undercroft, sebastian accio’s the couch y/n had summoned earlier this year, saying the undercroft was “too sad without furniture”.

he picks y/n up as she yelps from the sudden movement. he places y/n carefully down on the couch before running off to a corner where y/n had stocked up on different potions. he searched quickly, trying to find the bright green one y/n made often.

on the couch, y/n closes her eyes. her anxiety never really subsiding from earlier. being back in the castle made it start to bubble in her stomach again. y/n sits up with a groan, leaning against the arm of the couch. she looks down at her hands, covered with dirt and what looks to be blood. she’s shaking. she clenches and unclenches her fists, attempting to ground herself. the sound of glass hitting itself gets drowned out as she finds herself to be submerged into a quiet void.

a soft hand gets placed on her shoulder, and a figure moves in front of her, crouching down.

“take this.” sebastian’s tone is firm but in no way demanding.

y/n nods, taking the green potion from sebastian and drinking it. a warm hazy feeling coats her body and she feels herself relaxing a bit. while her mind continues to go a mile a minute, her body isn’t in nearly as much pain as earlier. sebastian sits across from y/n, giving her space. y/n looks down and frowns, missing the proximity.

“do you still want to talk?” sebastian asks.

y/n looks up and nods, clasping her hands together. a blush creeps onto her face thinking of what she’s about to ask.

“seb?”

“yes, love?”

“can you uhm-“ y/n looks away and takes a deep breath and looks back to sebastian. his face still full of concern.

“c-can you hold me?” the blush on y/n’s face deepens. sebastian smiles.

“of course, darling.” y/n moves her legs up as sebastian comes closer to her and he lifts her to place her on his lap. her back pressed against the arm of the couch, sebastian’s arm over her waist, his other hand taking hers. y/n leans onto sebastian’s chest and he places his head above hers.

sebastian’s thumb goes over y/n’s knuckles and he places a soft kiss to y/n’s head and rubs small circles into her back. y/n takes a shaky breath.

“just get stressed out sometimes… and anxious… and overstimulated. most of the time going out and fighting or rescuing animals helps me feel better. which sounds… not great i’m sure and i love going out with you or poppy or natty. however, i think i need to be alone sometimes. that’s nothing against you i just feel like i’m dangerous and i don’t ever want you to… see me differently.“ y/n breathes out, leaning harder into sebastian’s chest. it’s silent for a moment.

“love, i don’t really think i could see you differently than how i do now.”

“how do you see me now?” y/n lifts her head off sebastian’s chest, and he breathes out.

“well, i think you’re strong, fiercely independent, stubborn. you never back down from a challenge, no matter how at odds you are… talented, smart, and beautiful.” sebastian moves a hair out of y/n’s face, the gesture making her blush.

“you think i’m pretty?”

“that’s what you got from that?” sebastian raises his eyebrow.

“answer… please.” y/n licks her lips, waiting for him to respond.

“yes, but i do believe that pretty is an understatement.”

“you’re quite handsome, but i believe that to be an understatement as well.” sebastian’s eyes bore into y/n’s. a blush on both their faces.

“i’m really sorry i got you hurt.” sebastian says, lowering his gaze to y/n’s hand in his. y/n lifts her hands and places then on the sides of sebastian’s face.

“hey, listen. it’s okay. i wasn’t all there anyways. so, we’ll just call it a mistake and move on. it’s not your fault anyways.” y/n moves forward and plants a small kiss to sebastian’s nose. her thumbs moving across his cheeks. sebastian moves his hands to her wrists, moving the side of his face to kiss one of her palms.

“can i make it up to you?” sebastian’s eyes glint with an idea. y/n immediately knows that it’s something she’s either going to hate or love but knowing sebastian, she won’t say no to either.

“you don’t need to, but if it’ll make you feel better.” she smiles at him.

“can i take you on a date? a nonviolent, not scary, totally normal date. to hogsmeade?” y/n is stunned for a moment and sebastian is sure she can feel the heat radiating on to her hands. y/n stays silent for a while, making sebastian worry he misread her feelings.

“we don’t have to-“

“i’d love to, sorry. just, uh, was thinking.” y/n smiles sheepishly.

“about?” sebastian cocks his head.

“something.”

“mm. tell me.” sebastian moves his hands to y/n’s waist and y/n moves her hands to sebastian’s chest. y/n leans in and kisses sebastian quickly before backing away to see his reaction. he smiles and leans in to kiss her again.

without breaking away, y/n moves herself to straddle sebastian and sebastian moans into the kiss. y/n parts her lips giving sebastian access he so craved. y/n grinds against sebastian, her moans being stolen by him. sebastian starts peppering kisses down y/n’s jawline, moving to her neck. her shaky breaths causing sebastian’s brain to feel dizzy.

“we should- we should stop.” y/n pushes sebastian back a bit. he leans back, his lips red and swollen. his freckles peaking out against the pink on his cheeks. he’s not entirely great at covering his disappointment.

“of course, darling. d-“ he practically gasps for air as y/n shifts her position on his lap to lay against him again. “don’t wanna go too far now right?”

“y-yeah, right.” sebastian rubs circles into y/n’s hip, making her skin feel hot. she wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace.

“thank you for being here today,” her voice barely over a whisper.

“there’s nowhere else i’d rather be.” sebastian kisses beneath her ear. y/n releases sebastian from her grip and kisses him softly. when they break apart, y/n pulls sebastian down to lay with her.

“i’m tired.” y/n states, her face in sebastian’s chest.

“i can imagine so.” sebastian says, running his hand through her hair.

“no, like more than normal.” sebastian pulls y/n back and then looks to the ground where the empty potion bottle is and picks it up.

“oh shit, was this the wrong one?”

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #hogwarts legacy sebastian #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow fanfiction #Spotify

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books-and-catears · 3 years

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Hi! I was wondering if you could write some headcanons on how the brothers would react to the alternate timeline MC (the one killed by belphie, rip) haunting the house of lamentation? I just think some angst would be neato. Keep up the good work! I love your writing <3

Oh how much I love this concept. With all the ghost MCs I've been writing this fits in perfectly. How I love writing angst hehehe thank you for this wonderful ask

Thank you so much for your kindness. I hope I can do this justice :')

It has been months since you've been gone. Your body buried in the human world, and yet your soul still felt like it was lingering.

They could see you - a glimpse here, a whisper there and your presence everywhere. Almost as if you just walked past them into your room, and lay curled up in bed with Satan's new books or Levi's new manga. Only you weren't.

The bumps in your bed were just pillows and blankets. The extra chair stood out like a sore thumb. They would so often call you and then feel stupid for expecting a response. Except you had started answering back now.

Lucifer could often hear paper rustling in his sleep. And when he woke up he found the paper work was done more than he remembered doing.

He found his favourite tea brewing whenever he was too tired. And it tasted exactly how you used to make it.

At first he thought it was some sort of sickening joke from his brothers so he threatened to punish them if they didn't come clean. But it was none of them.

Then...MC? Did you come back somehow?

He went into a secret frenzy, looking for you everywhere. Sometimes when the house was empty, he screamed out your name, he could hear your voice softly calling back from your room.

Soon those soft vague sounds became his only comfort - he became super strict about silence in the house. He refused to have any other tea than the one he found magically brewing. He'd always kiss the cups before drinking from them, and his eyes would sting with unshed tears.

___________________________________________

Mammon might be scared of ghosts. But not you. Never you. Especially when he could feel your weight in his arms whenever he missed you too much.

Maybe the sensation was more vivid, since he was the last one to hold you alive. He could also see you. A faint shadow that walked beside and waved to him whenever he was in your room.

And though the shadow had no face, he could tell it was smiling. He felt calm around it. Like you never left. He denied your death the most and now there was reason to.

He barely left the house and most of the time he just stayed in your room. That's where he had most memories with you. Sometimes he found coins and Grimm strewn around your bed, as if you'd left it there for him. He took them and stored them away, never to spend them.

He was overjoyed when he saw your shadow in his room. He started talking to it like it was you, pressing his lips against the walls where you appeared and watching your shadow reaching up to touch his shadow, holding it tight. In those moments he swore he could feel your arms around him again. And on those nights, his pillows would be drenched with his agony.

___________________________________________

Leviathan first noticed it when he saw that Player 2 was always logged in, in all of his games. Even the ones that came months after you were longer there.

And while player two didn't actively play, he found boost items in his game inventory that he didn't achieve himself. You used to hunt down boost items to help with his battles and he protected you during the fights.

He starts getting even more into gaming, to the point where he forgets to go out for meals. Mammon and Satan have to drag him out to eat. He often just sits there talking to himself as if you're still there.

Then one day, in the group texts of the game, he sees you text. Player 2: 'Go get him Levi! I got your back; we have a lot of ammo!" He forgot the game altogether desperately typing back a message.

You don't text as often as he would like, but he's always waiting for whatever you say. It's easily the best part of his day. If he fell asleep in front of the screen, he would wake up covered with a blanket and good morning message on screen. His brothers claim to never have gone inside so he knows it's you. He cries into the blanket you covered him with cause he misses you.

___________________________________________

Satan came to feel your presence in the strangest way. There was a particular cat that you were attached to. That cat started finding ways to sneak inside the house, in the library or Satan's room, holding small books in its mouth.

When Satan opened them up, he found petals of your favourite flowers tucked away in some particular pages. It resembled the way you marked your favorite chapters using colored bits of paper or bookmarks.

He figured out a way to talk to you. He made something that resembled an Ouija board and left a little cat shaped button on it. He tried it out in your room, and it worked. You were talking back. Not whole sentences but broken phrases and words. So he used yes and no questions from then onwards.

He often found new books in his room, a hint that you wanted him to read them. While reading, he could swear he felt your head rest on his shoulder as if trying to read with him. He also left books in your room to read. Though he missed your touch and your voice, the fact that you still talk to him gave him so much joy. He often kisses the books he gives you, hoping they reach your fingers and litters the pages with tear stains in hopes you'd see them and come back.

___________________________________________

Asmodeus screamed the first time he saw you behind him in the mirror. You were transculent, barely visible. But it was you and your distinct smile and wave of the hand, leaning against his bathroom wall, long streaks of dried blood near your neck. He could even smell you - your scent like flowers, firewood and old books.

He tries to talk to you, even tries to hold you but you're just an image. A reflection that reflects nothing but empty space. You don't seem to talk but you nod or shake your head in reply. He presses himself into the mirror as if trying to hug you tight.

But lately he hears whispers, very faint and barely there but he hears them. Always calling him somewhere where there is a mirror. Cause that's the only place he can see you. If you thought he was obsessed with mirrors then, you should see him now.

He almost covered his whole room up with mirrors so he could see you from all angles, making you feel as alive as he possibly could. He screams your name into his pillows. Maybe you would respond if he was louder?

___________________________________________

Beelzebub often passed by you room, all covered now, just like Lilith's. The door was always kept open but he didn't dare enter. But one day, a strong gust of wind blew it wide open as if urging him to enter. So he did.

On the bed he found some fresh treats placed right in the middle of your bed. It was the treats he loved to eat together with you. How did they even get here?

He sat on the bed and absent mindedly started eating. When he ate, he could hear your laughter and you talking - a surge of memories flooding his senses. And when he was done, he could swear he felt your fingers wiping his mouth.

Eversince then he refused to eat anywhere except your room and his brothers had to drag him to the table during breakfast and dinner. But whenever a new bakery or restaurant opened, he would bring all the food back only to eat it in your room. And he would smile, listening to saying how delicious the food is. He would often clutch at his chest and cry, missing the way you used to hold him whenever he was sad. Won't you come hold him now, MC?

___________________________________________

Belphegor couldn't feel a thing. The only way he knew you were still here was when he brothers acted strangely. He'd ask them of course, but they'd never reply to him. He was the reason MC was gone. Why would MC show themself to him?

So he observed his brothers, always cautious for every little thing that was out of place. He'd caught all his brothers crying at some point or the other. Especially in your room. So he'd curl up in your room to spend the night in there hoping to feel you like his brothers. Only he never did, and Mammon and Satan would scream and drag him out the next morning.

None of the brothers would let him inside of their own rooms either. They couldn't save you when it mattered. So now it was their way of protecting whatever essence was left of you.

Feeling dejected and guilty he went and locked himself inside his old attic. He rested his against the bars that locked him in. Isn't this where he first met you, MC? Sigh. You'd been nothing but kind to him so why did he-

"Belphie.." Then he heard it. For the first time in forever, he heard your voice again. Soft and kind - just like before. He looked up and through the bars, he saw the most familiar sight. You smiling at him through the bars, your fingers wrapped around yours. And just like that he broke down. He started howling in pain, as he tried to reach you, but his fingers slipped right through you. "I'm sorry I'm sorry come back please come back!" He cried as you disappeared into thin air again.

My Masterlist .

#obey me angst #obey me headcannons #obey me angst headcanon #obey me lucifer #obey me satan #obey me levi #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me asmo #obey me mammon #obey me fluff #obey me imagine #obey me game

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monstersinthecosmos · 2 years

Text

Vamptember Day 6 - Motel Room

CW Suicide

The ugly fluorescent lights flicker once, twice, and finally splash across Daniel’s face with an exhausted hum.

His hand freezes against the light switch and he feels stupid for thinking he could sneak up on his own reflection. He looks the Other Daniel in the eyes and isn’t sure what he expected to see here.

“You look like shit,” they mumble to each other. And no wonder Armand hasn’t been around. Imagine spending eternity with this.

Armand is polite about this kinda stuff. Or, more accurately, he’s Armand. And there’s that way he just… looks at you. The way he sees you. But even at Daniel’s most ragged, the most Armand ever says is You look tired, beloved.

He’ll offer his blood sometimes. Daniel sees the difference on those nights, even from those tiny sips. Now, he leans across the dingy bathroom counter and pulls at his lower eyelid, seeing the sickly tinge and angry red blood vessels. A small sip is never enough. It’s never going to be enough.

Daniel’s lips are chapped. He hasn’t shaved in days and there are circles beneath his eyes. There’s a boniness to his shoulders that he can see, even in himself, and knows that beneath his shirt his ribs are the same.

Why would Armand want to spend eternity with this.

His hand fidgets and he reaches for the lightswitch, too heartbroken to keep looking and all he wants is the cold damp darkness. But he thinks he deserves this, deserves to stare at what they’ve done to him. What his life has become.

At twenty years old he’d been so healthy. Full of life and curious and there was still color in his face. Not quite as apple-cheeked as Armand when he’s full, but he thinks if he stayed alive forever he should’ve stayed like that. Even five years ago was doable, probably. A little run down but not so malnourished. Armand told him that the Blood would restore him to health, if he were ever turned. Five years ago maybe it would’ve brought him back.

But not now.

Daniel stares hard at his reflection. At the Other Daniel. His face is so dull. Dead-eyed like he’s been haunted. There’s a leftover streak of glass cleaner on the mirror between them.

“He’s never going to turn you,” Other Daniel tells him.

“I know.”

“He’s going to live forever but you’re going to die tonight.”

Daniel’s throat feels dry. He swallows.

“I know,” he repeats, voice a scratch, and he leans over to drink a sip of water from the tap.

It tastes metallic and sour. He doesn’t look into the basin to see how it probably runs yellow with rust; it’s too demoralizing at this point. He doesn’t want to know.

There’s black spots in Other Daniel’s face when he straightens back up. Head fuzzy and he thinks he might faint. He reaches to hold the door frame.

“They’re kicking in,” Other Daniel says. “You’ll be dead soon.”

And his legs are rubbery as he tries to leave the bathroom. He has to hold the wall and the pattern on the carpet does a spin as he inches towards the bed. The plastic baggy is still sitting on the coverlet, shining in the light from the bathroom, and he can’t remember how long it’s been since he downed the handful of pills.

“Enough,” he says, and collapses onto the mattress. He crawls towards the center. He has enough sense to know his mom would yell at him if she saw his shoes on the bed. Maybe they won’t tell her he died like this.

Armand comments on stuff like that sometimes, too. But if it were Armand, he’d just buy a new blanket.

“It’s enough,” he slurs. He knows he’s talking to Armand now. “I can’t anymore.”

He imagines the pills, fizzing and melting in his stomach. He imagines them bubbling through his veins. It should be warm, and comforting, like drinking from Armand. But it only makes him nauseous.

The coverlet feels damp on his skin. The whole room is humid. He might be able to smell the mold, but isn’t sure if it’s real. Years of cigarette smoke are infused into each inch of the room, and he wishes he could have one more, for this last time, but he knows he’s out. He doesn’t think he has the energy to move, anyway.

It’s getting comfortable, though. Past the threshold of trying to resist. Gross room and all, and his shoes on the bed. That’s okay. The coroner might tell his mom but she’ll get over it. Maybe Armand will find out about it one day, when he decides to come back. Daniel will just go down as another one of his stupid experiments.

And that’s okay.

The sleepiness feels right. He breathes slower. This is okay. It’ll be done soon and he’ll never have to worry about any of it again. No more shame, or wanting, and no more feeling sick all the time. It’s fine. It’s enough.

But there’s a noise.

Something metallic that grinds. The lock breaking, the door swinging open. He’s too tired to look, but feels the bed dip beside him, feels a warm hand on his face.

Even if he wanted to move, he couldn't. That’s up to Other Daniel. Real Daniel is gone now, sleeping inside, totally over it.

“No, beautiful boy,” says the familiar voice.

Something hot is dripping against his lips. A hand runs through his hair, cradles the back of his head. And the weight is shifting and he’s dizzy, even down where he’s hiding in the darkness.

Shoulders being lifted, and he feels the body behind him. Someone kneeling, their legs bracketing Daniel’s ribs. His head lolling against their chest. More warmth in his mouth, and he knows it’s a bleeding wrist.

Armand’s blood isn’t cold like the drugs. He feels it working its way through, the way he always does. Tingling to life all the way in his fingertips. He has the strength to lift his hand, to hold Armand by the forearm. Armand pets his hair and whispers against his ear.

“That’s it,” he croons. “You are mine.”

Other Daniel laughs, and Real Daniel knows Armand can hear it.

Armand kisses the side of Daniel’s face.

“You go when I say.”

#vamptember #vampire chronicles #armand/daniel

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yearningandpatheticaboutit · 2 years

Text

SPEAK FOR YOURSELF

CHAPTER 9: LOOK AT THIS PHOTOGRAPH

A/N: i made a moodboard for yaera and im really proud of it lmao

warnings: blood mention, drugs mention, suicide/self harm mention, gambling

wordcount: 8000 and some change

prev chapter

***

i remember climbing out my window that night. the moon was full, my stomach giddy thinking of seeing his pretty eyes. he said he wanted to meet me, i couldnt believe that what people said was true.

guys really were MEAN to the girls they liked.

being made fun of constantly? not my love language. never was. it reminded me too much of how my parents treated me, and i never found comfort in that at all.

my insecurities getting pointed out, getting mocked for the enjoyment of others. how could you like someone who did all those things to you?

i wondered that for a while. i was too hopeful, i guess.

that didnt stop me from doing my hair and finally making use of all the designer my mother brought home. i curled my fringe and the ends of my black hair, giving myself the look only a stupidly happy person could muster and snuck out of my house.

i didnt expect to see my twin sister doing the exact same thing.

our mouths collectively dropped open when we saw one another, completely baffled that neither of us had said anything. i wouldve told her where i was going, but she hadnt given me the time of day.

"i can explain," she nervously said, laughing. "okay nevermind, you first."

"no way!" i said, shaking my head. "you? sneaking out? fess up!"

yasmine was like the model twin to everyone. of course she wasnt perfect, she had flaws just like everyone else. she was a massive people pleaser, so i wondered just exactly who she was trying to impress with her new sneaky habits.

anyone that had my goodie two-shoes sister sneaking out of the house couldnt be good news, i thought. i was also impressed by how they managed to actually get her to go through with it.

"im just meeting...someone," she giggled dumbly. it was almost pitch black in our yard and yet i knew her cheeks were stained red.

"and you didnt tell me about him? who is it? someone from a rival school?"

my sister was dramatic enough to hide something like that. she had just broken up with her asshole boyfriend, collin, who no one liked, so i would have gladly encouraged this phase.

"its just someone. you dont know him."

i raised an eyebrow. "so when will i get to? whats his name?"

"im not saying anything, yae." she deadpanned.

"what?" i couldnt hide the disappointment from my voice. "but we tell each other everything."

she sighed. "relax, i will tell you just not right now. gosh quit being so codependent."

i frowned. "im not codependent i just care about your life. but whatever since you wanna be a massive bitch about it."

silence filled after a familiar insecurity rose to surface level. my sister knew how much i loved and needed her. she was my sister. some siblings were close, some werent. but my sister was my only friend. and all i really had. she knew that.

and sometimes she reminded me of how much i held her back.

she would sit with her massive friend group with attractive, sociable and fun people. she would always try to push me to talk to them or even make my own friends. i tried, i swear i did. it usually didnt go well. i never understood why.

maybe i was the problem. i could only really care about one person at a time. i didnt know what that was called. it took time for me to get close with people, the fear of being judged and abandoned an imminent one.

my brain always told me, my own sister would never abandon or judge me. we were blood. we were in this shit forever.

apparently i was the only one passionate about it.

"yae, cmon dont be like that," yasmine sighed. "i didnt mean that. i will tell you i promise."

i didnt answer her, only wiped the tears that gathered in my eyes for that moment. i crumbled up the letter he gave me as i rolled it into a fist in my pocket.

"its whatever, i guess ill see you in the morning," i muttered and started walking to the gate.

"wait!" she whisper-yelled. "where are you going?"

"ill tell you later. good luck with whoever youre meeting."

i called an uber to the address, trying to lighten up my mood on the way there. i put lipgloss on, trying to smile in my compact mirror. i wasnt really good with make up, but since i had a good feeling about this boy, i would need to start getting good.

this was the first time he'd invited me to his house. usually when yasmine went it wasnt a mutual invite. now i was going solo. he really changed his mind about me.

i kept impulsively eating mints, practicing my facial expressions and the uber driver probably thought i was crazy. when i got dropped infront of the wrought iron gates, he was standing there waiting for me.

in a white tshirt and grey sweatpants. he was so beautiful. he pulled his lips into that sly smirk i knew, as if he got everything he wanted. and being who he was, he did.

i mean, thats how i was here even though he bullied the fuck out of me whenever he could.

"hi," i said, giving a small wave. the wind blew my skirt a little, making me hold it down embarrassingly.

jongho continued giving me that satisfied smirk as he eyed me up and down. "you know its two am. i really didnt expect you to actually come."

i mean you asked me to. of course i would. im almost in love with you.

i shrugged like it was nothing. "you told me to come when i was comfortable. i thought this was appropriate."

"i see you dressed appropriately too. nice legs," he said, making my face heat up. "goddamn, model genes really runs in your family. well i dont wanna keep you in the cold. lets go inside."

he guided me into his home, his hand on my lower back. i swear i couldnt breathe. he never touched me like this infront of the others. infront of her.

his house was dark except for the light in the living room and up the staircase. the sound of my miu miu boots on the marble made me realize how empty everything sounded.

"are you alone at home?" i asked, kind of excited for the answer.

"yeah, my folks left for something in singapore. you know how it is," he casually said, showing me into a room. "make yourself comfy."

it was his room. i dont know what i imagined, but seeing it, it was so jongho.

trophies for singing competitions, soccer, and some even for academics lined the walls around his massive bed. he had a large mirror directly opposite his bed and a balcony that overlooked the infinity pool in his backyard. i strolled around in admiration, turning around when i heard two loud pats.

jongho sat on his bed and was gesturing for me to do the same. the led lights in his room were red and so dim, making him look far more hot than he already was.

i reluctantly planted myself next to him, my heart rate going higher than a kite. jongho licked his lips and took a heavy breath as he prepared to speak. god he was so attractive, i hated how much i liked him. i left my home at two am just because he asked. fuck.

"thanks for coming to talk," he muttered, his voice deeper and hitting the perfect spot in my ear drums. "i know it was kinda a lot to ask."

i rolled my hair behind my ear and shrugged. "its no big deal. what did you wanna talk about?"

jongho moved closer, now he was so close i could feel the radiation of his body heat. oh god.

"i know ive been hard on you for coming into our friend group and everything. im really sorry for all the mean things i said."

the apology struck me, hitting the thoughts from my brain. that wasnt what i expected.

"i called you clingy and made yasmine think you were a loser," jongho sighed, shaking his head. "she doesnt believe that of course, but im really sorry. i know i can be mean sometimes but its just how i give affection. youre cool with that, right?"

i nodded thoughtlessly. i was just happy to have him talk to me.

"yea, thats fine. i get it. im not that sensitive dont worry," i forced a smile, knowing his insults hurt more than anything. but at least he was sorry. right?

"cool, cool." he smiled down at me. "i hope we can be good friends then, yae. can you do me a favour then?"

"what kind of favour?"

my mind was running wild right then. all the insane teenage hormones were overflowing. the close proximity and how handsome he was, the fact that my short skirt had such easy access. choi jongho was a hard guy to resist. and i was failing.

i didnt hear his words, i was so focused on his lips and the cute mole in his neck, i acted without thinking.

i leaned forward and pressed my lips to his, softly grabbing the side of his face. i couldnt believe what i was doing. for a second his warm mouth welcomed mine, taking it in fully. then, i felt coldness on my lips as he pulled away.

"what are you doing?" he scoffed, his eyes narrowed spitefully. my stomach shrunk.

"uh–i–" i stammered, only to be cut off.

"are you fucking kidding me right now? are you deaf?" he raised his voice. "did you not just hear me ask is yasmine if interested in anyone? why the fuck would you kiss me."

"im sorry–i–" i couldnt believe what i just did. what was wrong with me. he wanted to know about yasmine. not me. what the fuck. this was so awkward.

wait. so i read everything...wrong?

"shit," he cursed under his breath. "this is bad."

"is that why you called me here?" i asked, fearing the answer. "to find out if yasmine is interested in anyone?"

"obviously. why else are you useful?" he meanly answered. i felt an embarrassed pang in my chest. "did you think i liked you?"

the mocking laugh that fell from his lips after made me flinch. because how stupid was i to think he actually saw me differently now.

to think that someone like him could actually like someone like me.

"youre so fucking naive, yaera," he kept driving the knife in, shaking his head with that taunting smile. "just cause you look like your sister doesnt mean you should have the same confidence. youre setting yourself up."

i remembered the first day i sat with yasmine's friend group, jongho pointed out that even though we were twins, i wasnt nearly as attractive as yasmine. i laughed it off awkwardly because i thought he was joking.

"you know desperation is unattractive as fuck, right? i cant believe you drove here at two in the morning because you thought i liked you."

i was shivering in my skin, trying not to completely burst into tears. my entire body was flushing hot with anger and spite, and the most embarrassing of all–heartbreak. because deep down i knew he would never get over my sister. it made me insane.

why did everyone fucking act like i wasnt worthy of being liked just like everyone else? but as soon as they saw the scars on my arms they wanted to tell me the same bullshit.

youre loved, yaera.

stop hurting yourself, yaera.

stop using this for attention, yaera.

i couldnt bear to stay a second longer. i wiped the wetness of my cheeks and got up from the bed, immediately going to leave. jongho got up and tugged at my wrist, pulling me back to him.

"you havent told me about your sister yet," jongho said, making my rage spike. because who the fuck did he think he was. "cmon, dont cry because of silly shit like that. its water under the bridge."

"i hate you," i seethed through my tears. "i dont know why yasmine is friends with someone like you in the first place."

"because shes like me," jongho taunted. "and thats what you refuse to see. you dont realize how much of a burden you are to her. you dont realize the only reason she hasnt ditched you yet is because youre related to her."

okay, so he was continuing then?

"you always act like youre so perfect," i spat. "you talk about how much of a burden i am? imagine how much of a burden you are to yasmine because you keep trying to date her. shes never gonna like you. you're just another guy friend in her collection, cunt."

i ripped my arm from his grip and stormed out of his room. he followed me till i reached the bottom of the staircase, where he just watched me spitefully from the railing. now he was angry? of course. pieces of shit like jongho were great at dishing it out and not taking it back.

i felt so petty. he could have rejected me normally but he thought he could say whatever he wanted to me. tearing the little self esteem i had down was fun for him.

i turned around and smiled. "you really wanna know what yasmine thinks of you? she doesnt. in fact, she snuck out of the house to meet someone. shes probably getting fucked as we speak. enjoy that mental image, fucker."

"get the fuck out of my house!"

***

YAERA

an hour has passed since san left me in his apartment. im worried and have a weird feeling in my stomach just imagining what he's doing right now.

despite the anger i feel toward him, i hope he's safe. that's all I hope for. he's hurt badly, looking more damaged than when he fought the last time. he definetely has open wounds. so i look around for any first aid. he's gonna need it for when he comes back.

i rummage through his cabinets. there's so much empty spaces but its filled with random stuff. this guy needs to go shopping. he has so much expired medicine. i find a thin roll of bandages and plasters in the very back of a cupboard but when i take them out, something falls on the ground.

its a folded up piece of paper. when i pick it up, i realize its actually a crumbled up picture. a picture of a family.

my stomach immediately sinks.

a young asian lady and her husband are holding their toddler son. it looks like theyre at a carnival. everyone is smiling, except for the kid. hes pouting.

he was so cute as a baby.

a weird feeling of melancholy hits me hard realizing the people in this picture are no longer around.

san lives alone. apparently hes been alone for a long time. i can tell by the way he operates. hes selfish, not even in a bad way. i get why he caters for himself and tries to keep away from others.

im not even angry anymore. it just makes me sad.

i put the picture back where i found it and go sit by the bed. san doesnt have any alcohol in his house, so i end up having to look up the nearest pharmacy.

i make a quick run for it, deciding to buy him some more medicine and fill up my asthma pump while im at it. i dont know why im doing this when he probably hates me. i guess im always gonna be a sucker for the men i like.

when i get back, his door is unlocked. i panic, but then i find him and his friend eyeing me like they want to kill me.

"where were you?!" san asks me, raising his voice. "dont walk around here. you know this isnt the suburbs."

i lift the pharmacy bag. "i was just getting you medicine. i threw out your expired packs. which were all of them, by the way."

he has a lost look on his face. i turn to his "cousin" and hold my hand out. "the name's yaera marino, san's fake girlfriend. good to officially meet you."

"im wooyoung. san's fake cousin," he says, taking my hand with reluctance.

"are you sleeping here tonight?" i ask him.

"yes he is," san answers. "we're sharing a mattress. you can still sleep on my bed."

i feel a pang of jealously. goddamn it that should be me.

i nod to san. "go take a shower. im gonna give you first aid."

san is confused, looking at me like he doesnt understand english. "you know how to do first aid?"

"i learned it when i was still doing karate. go shower." i chase him away with my hand.

san awkwardly goes off, leaving me alone with wooyoung. i quietly take in the boy, who now that i can see clearly, is obviously younger than san. i cant believe hes in the gang too.

"what took you so long?" i ask him, frowning. "i was worried."

"we had to get rid of the license plate," wooyoung answers, his tone curt and cold. "and you were worried? dont make me laugh."

his words are sharp and sound spiteful. im guessing he knows how san and i began this partnership. i hold my tongue and let him snap.

"you dont care about san. youre using him," he says, but still quiet enough so that san doesnt overhear. "i just want you to know, i can make you disappear at any time i want. all i need is the greenlight from san and you'll be scattered across a lake."

"you think that will protect him?" i ask with a wry smile. wooyoung's fist clenches on the side of him, his knuckles bloody and bruised.

"what makes you think i dont have a million copies of that video? that i dont have a plan in case one of you hurt me? im not some dumb bitch."

wooyoung shakes his head and laughs scornfully. what did he expect me to say? shiver me timbers? i literally know he shot someone tonight.

"and here san thinks you wouldnt hurt him. i dont care what kind of plan you have. if you hurt san, i'll fucking kill you myself," he threatens.

i wouldnt ever hurt him. not even in my dreams. unless he hurts me first, then fuck him.

"trust me, i wont be an issue," i say nonchalantly, sitting on the bed. i lean back and feel a pain in the spot where san kicked me. right above my boobs.

"i just need enough money by the end of the school year. then i'll go back to my country and disappear from your lives forever."

"do you know how much of a risk this is? what san is letting you do?" wooyoung scoffs. "thats if you even make it to the end of the year. if anyone finds out about this, youre both fucked."

"no ones gonna find out unless you tell them," i eye him sharply. i dont trust this guy but apparently san does, enough to tell him about our parternship.

"san has a hard life already. you should just get out of his life," wooyoung snaps. "if you knew why he was in the gang, you'd never ask him to do what youre doing now."

his words somehow make me feel guilty. but why? why should i feel guilty when san doesnt even tell me whats going on.

"woo."

wooyoung's demeanor changes when he hears san's voice. he immediately stiffens and acts completely clueless.

my breath gets stuck in my throat. san is standing there in nothing but a white tank top and a striped red pyjamma pants. his muscles and skinny waist are on perfect display. my mouth suddenly goes dry.

no. fuck. yaera, focus.

"what are you doing?" san asks like hes talking to a kid. i find it highly amusing but keep my face blank.

"i was just defending you," wooyoung says with a scowl.

"im not in any danger. like i told you."

"yeah but–"

"jung wooyoung."

wooyoung groans at san's warning and shoots me a hard glare telling me this conversation isnt close to over. he storms into san's extra room and shuts the door, probably thinking the worst of the situation.

i cant lie, despite his intimidating and handsome appearance, i cant take him seriously at all. i find it endearing that he cares so much about san that he even threatened me. so san isnt alone after all.

he looks at me and sighs, his face adorably awkward. the black strands of his hair are wavy against his forehead, making him look so soft despite the bruises and cuts on his face.

its embarrassing how quickly i forgot how badly i wanted to hurt him today.

"sorry about wooyoung," he says and comes to sits down on the bed. "hes just...possessive."

"you mean protective," i correct him and smile. "its good that you have someone looking out for you. you need it."

san goes quiet but is looking at me like he has a lot on his mind. right, he had to get someone killed tonight. how could i forget.

i take out the first aid materials and scoot closer to him. the warmth of his body is already wafting towards me, the scent of the soap so potent on his skin. its an intoxicating smell.

"can i see where you got hurt?" my voice is so hesitant it doesnt even sound like me.

san is slow with lifting his top. i refrain from visibly gulping at the sight of his beautiful lower body, my mouth going dry when i notice the large gashes against his ribs. they cut him with a knife.

"why would you put on a white shirt to bed?" i ask him with a scowl.

"the bleeding stopped in the shower," san shrugs embarrassedly. "plus this was all i could find."

i inspect the wound and it looks like he cleaned a whole lot of it in the shower. "it looks like i just have to put ointment on and wrap you. you need to go to the doctor if it gets infected, you know that right?"

"i dont think that will be necessary. ive never needed to before," san says coolly.

i cant believe hes just brushing this off. "how often do you get injured like this?" i ask him as i dip a finger into the antibiotic cream. i gently run it over his gashes and he winces. .

"now and then," he forces out, as if trying to hide that it hurts. "it wouldnt really matter the extent. i'd still have to go to school."

i roll my eyes. of course. the perfect student.

i rub in the ointment and it feels like my cheeks are on fire. ive never been this close to anyone. ive never done this for anyone. my hands are shaking as i reach for the sterile bandage.

"are we ever going to talk about what happened tonight?" i ask quietly. "because i dont want us to forget."

san is staring through my soul with his intimidating, and pretty brown eyes. i can see him withdrawing. hes already far away.

"i know i was reckless and im sorry. but please dont lie to me, san. i really fucking hate not knowing whats going on. i know you were probably trying to protect me, but you could have been honest."

i expect him to say sorry too. but only silence is returned.

"i wont lie to you again. ive seen the effects it has," he mutters.

"i dont want our partnership to be us just lying to and antagonizing each other. i know you dont trust me. but we're gonna have to trust each other for this shit to work."

"i do trust you," san says after a few moments pass. he tightens as i roll the bandage around his torso. "i just dont trust myself. and everyone else."

i stay quiet hoping for him to elaborate. i feel it coming. the hope is bubbling in my chest.

"i watched yunho die," his voice is flat, as if drained from emotion. "he got stabbed right infront of wooyoung and i. we should be used to it, we've seen tons of people come and go in the last four years."

i finish bandaging him and lower his shirt reluctantly. san watches my every move, and im surprised he lets me.

"im sorry you had to go through that so young," i tell him, genuinely. the look on his face is so distant that it feels like hes given up a long time ago.

"is this is how its gonna be? forever?" i ask. "is there any way out of this for you?"

i remember san implying that he wasnt doing this out of his freewill. which means his boss must have a lot of leverage over him.

"i dont know. im still trying to figure that out."

"what do they have on you?"

san chuckles darkly, his soft laugh full of scorn and hopelessness. "well, they know where i live, for starters. they know where i go to school. they know everything about me."

and his parents? where the fuck are your parents san?

he can see the question in my eyes. his smile is filled with gloom. "you can thank my dad for that. hes the reason all of this started. the reason ive been in this servitude for most of my childhood."

i frown. "servitude?"

"my dad...he was a shit guy," san sighs. "he was an alcoholic gangster with gambling tendencies. he made a bet with the 105ths he couldnt repay. so he took off. and when they couldnt make him pay it off, they took me instead."

"im paying off hundreds of thousands of dollars of debt, thanks to my shit father. and i dont have any money so i had to give all i could so they dont kill me. myself."

i cant believe it. san is basically in a slave contract. and theres nothing he can do about it. my chest feels tight.

"what about your mom?" i ask softly.

san shrugs and lays down on the bed, looking straight at the ceiling as he crosses his arms behind his head.

"shes gone. she left when the gang stuff got too complicated. they sent a warning to our apartment telling my dad to pay his debt, in the form of a petrol bomb. it scared the shit out of her, so she took off."

"without you!?" i ask incredulously.

"while i was at school. i just got used to it. coming home to nothing."

what kind of parents...fuck. i cant even say anything. im just fucking sad. i feel a hundred times worse about blackmailing him now.

"the 105ths said they would let me go if i paid off everything. theyre still letting me go to school as long as i dont neglect the gang."

"what if you ran away?" i ask curiously. san stares at me blankly.

"they would find me and do to me what they did to yunho. or even worse. its not worth it really. im just hoping it ends soon. then ill disappear. for good."

and now im dampening his plans by making him share his money with me. god i hate myself.

"how much do you owe?"

"i dont know. i just know the deal ends when miss A calls it off. she deems how much is enough."

i scowl. "what? and what if it never gets called off? what if they trap you here?"

"im hoping it wont come to that. ive been loyal for a long time."

that doesnt mean shit when people only love using you. but i dont say that. it already means so much that san decided to say something. to be honest. i cant lie and act like im okay after hearing the truth. but i wont pity him. san deserves better than that.

"ill help you," i look down at him fiercely. "ill help you cancel out your dads debt."

san looks at me deeply. "thats not necessary."

i hold out a hand. "dont even say it. get a fixed amount from your boss and ill help you get it."

"why would you do that?"

my stomach turns at the question. i dont even know. i cant say its because of the mild lady boner i have for him. its more than that. choi san deserves more than what happened to him.

"its only fair, isnt it?" i say with a small smile. "i get to go back home and you get to go to...where was it? nottingham?"

he wants to study pharmacy. i wonder if he meant that.

sans cheeks are red. is he...blushing?

"why do you remember that?" he asks with a soft groan.

i chuckle to myself. "cause its weird as fuck. england? what the hell do you wanna do in england? seriously if you want to go to europe there are so many better places. why nottingham?"

san shrugs embarrassedly. "i like football."

"you? like football?" i scoff. "that's the reason you wanna live in england?"

"why do you sound so shocked? can't i like football?" he asks defensively.

"you don't even look like you've watched soccer a day in your life. i'd never guess that you'd like an english team."

san snorts and laughs to himself a little. my legs go jelly a little. i keep underestimating how adorable he can be.

"my mother is a huge soccer fan," he admits fondly. my smile is quick to fall away. "once we went to watch her favourite team play in nottingham. she was so excited about it, she got me interested in it."

i feel myself soften. "so you want to go for your mother? is she going to move with you?"

"no," he sighs. i must be shit at connecting the dots because i still dont get it.

"she's in Korea. i can't go back there. i had to give up my Korean citizenship this year because I'm not enlisting."

"so you'll never see her again?"

my question hangs in the air. san doesnt answer it, because even he doesnt know. he still has hope. i can tell. he just doesnt know if its still worth holding onto.

everything has gotten deep so fast.

"maybe we should go to bed. we still have school tomorrow," i say and lie down next to him. theres a small gap between us that i know neither of us will close. but it feels good to hope.

san tries to get up but groans as he holds his injured side. i push him down gently by the shoulder, his eyes slightly widening.

"youre too tired to get up anyway," i say softly. "just stay here. i promise i wont bite."

unless you want me to.

san looks at me awkwardly and nods, lying back down on his back. his eyes are aimed at the ceiling and i pull my knees inward as i lay on my side looking at him.

everything about him is so...i dont even have the words to explain it. i just have a feeling that everything will work out for us exactly the way we want it to.

"thank you," i say. san slowly turns his head and raises his eyebrows at me in confusion.

"for being honest. i know you didnt wanna mention all that. but thanks."

san doesnt say anything more. theres a ghost of a smile on his face, but its enough for me to hold onto. choi san, maybe youre not actually that much of an asshole.

"goodnight, yaera."

***

san

i thought i imagined it. having her curled up in my arms. i felt it that night, her warm skin against mine and her soft breaths and hair on my chest. i told myself i was imagining it. because the morning after, she was gone.

yaera vanished like thin air. i feel embarrassed for everything that came out of my mouth last night. i cant believe i actually told her what happened to my family.

are you that desperate for friends? i ask the loser in the mirror as i get ready for school. the bruises in my face are so bad it looks like im going to have to wear a mask all day.

wooyoung comes out of the spare room as im almost finished with breakfast. he doesnt greet me with a good morning, instead he looks around expectantly.

"wheres the blackmailer?" he asks sarcastically. "is she also a magician?"

"her parents drop her at school so she left," i answer dryly. "morning to you too, asshole."

wooyoung gives me a bland stare. "you didnt come to bed last night."

"sorry? are we married?"

"what the fuck are you doing san?" wooyoung shouts at me. oh god are we really doing this at six in the morning. "do you actually like this chick or what?"

"where did you get that idea?" i ask him calmly, knowing it will rile him up even more.

"maybe the fact that you slept in the same bed. youre letting her blackmail you for fucks sake–"

"wooyoung, we both passed out. with clothes on. and didnt i ask you to fucking trust me?" i glare at him. because why is he acting like my wife.

"i dont like this one bit." he shakes his head like a disapproving parent.

"you dont have to like it. all you have to do is let me do the work."

i feel my phone buzz in my pockets. i open it and see a missed call from yeosang. ugh this loser.

i open a message from him and its a birthday invitation. oh shit i almost forgot.

"woo, wanna come with me to a party?" i ask him. maybe he'll be less annoying if he can get the attention of some private school girl too.

"is it gonna be one of those fancy private school prick parties?" woo scowls, then smiles. "free food. im in."

"not to mention you could probably sell some stuff from there."

woo suddenly gets a burst if excitement. "that reminds me, i stole from that black dragon dickhead. we still have to split up the cash."

now that hes reminded me, i move to punch woo in the arm. "owwww!" he yells and shoves me. "what the fuck!"

"youre worried about me getting blackmailed when you possibly started a gang war," i snap at him. "when are you gonna tell miss A?"

"i dont plan to," woo says confidently. my face pales. no way.

"are you serious?" i ask worriedly. woo nods confidently. too confident who saw one of our own get mutilated last night.

"since im keeping your secret, you better keep mine."

thats entirely different, i want to say. i wanna argue with woo but the annoyingly playful nature on his face tells me hes not going to take me seriously at all.

"you know what they say," woo says with a grin. "out of sight, out of mind."

***

yaera

"youre in a good mood," my father notes as we get in the car that morning. and hes right. i cant take the smile off my face because i woke up on choi san's chest.

"i have a good feeling about this week," i say. my mom snorts, her eyes glued to her phone.

"and what brought on this feeling?"

its weird that my father is asking, because he genuinely never seems interested in anything i do. but since we're on the topic...

"miss evans got me a tutor. i invited him to come over after school today, is that okay?" i ask them. my mother immediately turns around with the signature sneer on her face.

"and who is miss evans to assign you a tutor? does she plan to pay for this?" she asks.

"uh? my AP bio teacher? you met her the beginning of the year?" i remind her. "and no, im paying out of my own pocket."

"good," she dryly says. "in that case its fine. the maids will all be home. as long as hes gone by dinner."

i quietly fistbump myself in the backseat, my stomach filled with butterflies. san, in my room, teaching me stuff i dont care about at all. what a dream come true.

best part is? he wont have to meet this family at all.

im skipping out of the car by the time they drop me off at school. i light up a cigarette as i stroll through the parking lot, feeling like a girl from some book who just landed a date with her crush. maybe life is worth living.

"marino!" a voice calls me. i pause in my tracks as i blow out my steam, turning around slowly to see...

...ah fuck.

"hey marino!" kang yeosang calls me with his signature douchebag smirk as he walks up to me. "long time no see."

i take an extra long drag from my cig because god it is needed for any conversation with yeosang.

"what do you want?" i ask him. he acts surprised and offended.

"wow, is that how you greet an old friend?" he shakes his head with a sigh. "kinda mean you know?"

i roll my eyes. "get to what it is you want, you know you and i have never been friends."

yeonsang clicks his tongue, his half smile not even shrunken by an inch. "always the pleasantries with you, marino. i just wanted to know if youve seen lazarus. since i hear you two come as a package nowadays. congrats by the way. you two totally look good together."

"lazarus?" i repeat dumbly. "who the fuck is that?"

"choi san," yeosang giggles like its the funniest thing ever.

"why do you call him lazarus?"

yeosang tilts his head at me like its obvious. "cause hes a scholarship student? hello?"

this fucking asshole. i toss my cigarette at him and he dodges fast enough to my dismay.

"dont call him that," i hiss. "plus why do you want to see him?"

"thats between us men, sweetheart," he says as a matter of fact. "just let him know when you see him, to give me a call. he doesnt answer my messages."

"maybe you should take the hint then."

yeosang looks at me with strange fascination, as if hes high in this very moment. its like he finds me amusing, hes just always giving me that stupid lopsided smile.

"i wonder how it happened, the two of you," he says with a glint of mischief. as if he cant wait to say something offensive. "its just funny how your type went from jongho...to him."

heat hits my face in embarassment. "jongho isnt the only guy ive had a crush on you know, you can stop bringing him up for every fucking thing. we never even dated," i say defensively.

this is why i hate talking to anyone my sister was friends with. all they could talk about was the past. not to mention most of the people she liked were fucking horrible.

"you never dated, but you were in love with him," yeosang childishly points out. "and even if he wont admit it, he probably felt something for you too."

i scoff. no he didnt. choi jongho doesnt love anyone but himself. id learnt that too late.

"i dont care," i grit out. "why are you even bringing this up?"

"yas would have wanted you to be with jongho. especially because he couldnt have her," yeosang just keeps boiling my blood. i cant believe this. i cant believe he just said that.

"i dunno how she would feel seeing you with...lazarus."

"shut the fuck up," i snap.

yeosang lifts his hands in defense. "im just saying because i care, yae. you cant just date someone you dont know. choi san might not be the sweet guy you think he is."

what is he even playing at? does he think san will sell him drugs if he goes around badmouthing him?

"and youre sweet?" i scoff. "you and jongho and whoever else was in that fucked up group? you think you can talk because you knew my sister? dont act like you ever cared about me."

"god youre so sensitive," yeosang laughs meanly. "i was just playing with you. and you wonder why you never got invited to our parties. youre just the strawman of fun arent you?"

"that doesnt make any fucking sense," i snap at him. "i can never get back the time i wasted having this conversation. mind your business and leave me alone, yeah, stronzo? and dont mention san to me ever again."

"dont forget to let him know i was looking for him!" yeosang calls after me as i storm off. i dont even need to turn around to know hes smiling, completely full of himself.

***

i only see san when lunch rolls around. all our common classes are later in the day and ive been obsessively waiting to see him all day. ive got a busy day ahead, my mind set on a very specific target.

i find him by the abandoned stairwell, and its like hes been waiting for me.

he shakes his head at me as i come, i narrow my eyes in confusion.

"am i missing something?" i ask him. "whats with the face?"

"why dont you check your phone?" san grumbles at me. his eyes trail behind me, where i turn to see jongho descending the stairs.

hes smiling like a prick. oh god. two assholes in one day.

"i guess the two of you dont learn," he says tauntingly. "this isnt a place for your dates."

"we havent done anything wrong," san says annoyedly. im glad he finds jongho as annoying as i do.

"maybe not you. but her," jongho turns to me with a smile. "i see your hair still isnt dyed back. you were given two warnings. one more and its suspension. i dont think your failing grades can afford two weeks out."

looking at him now, i dont know what i ever saw in him. im so embarrassed to say ive been rejected by this asshole like a hundred times.

i cant risk detention today. it would spoil mine and san's plans and would just be boring as hell. i guess im going to have to cave.

jongho smirks dreadfully. "why you so quiet, yae? didnt i tell you'd get you back?"

"look, im sorry okay," i say against my will. "i didnt mean to punch you. and ill have my hair dyed by tomorrow. good enough for you?"

san looks between us in confusion. i hope he doesnt ask any questions. if he thinks im crazy now he shouldnt ever hear of jongho-obsessed yaera.

"not good enough, sorry," jongho starts writing on that stupid peach notepad and i sigh. this time he only writes my name. meaning ill have detention without san. miss morri will love this.

"maybe next time you'll watch your mouth," jongho smiles at us before strollling away like the arrogant pig he is. i sigh heavily as san turns to me with narrowed eyes.

"why does he hate you so much?" san asks me annoyedly. "he just came here asking specifically. what did you do?"

"why are you assuming i did something?" i scowl. san gives me an obvious look.

"why else would he hate you that much?"

"because hes an asshole," i scoff. "i might be one too, but im nothing like him. my sister never reciprocated his love and he made it everyone elses problem. he also told me i should have died instead of her."

"what the fuck. he needs help."

"most people at this school do," i sigh. "speaking of help, i need yours."

san gives me his suspicious, pretty eyes. i smile excitedly. "im letting you into my side hustle. you remember how i told you i got my savings?"

"you said you stole most of it..."

"bingo."

san groans. "i hope you dont expect me to help you steal a car or something."

i roll my eyes. he must think im an adrenaline junkie or something. "dont be ridiculous. all i need is a look out before school ends. you think you can do that?"

san sighs hopelessly, surrendering. "what do you need?"

"get me into the boys lockeroom."

"...what are you doing there?"

"if i tell you it wont be special, would it?" i say and he scowls.

"dont do anything stupid. what about detention? are you going?"

i smirk. "obviously not. you still owe me a tutoring session."

san nods in a way that tells me he definetely forgot. how shameless.

"luckily for you, my parents allowed you to come over. and they wont be home till night and i'll make sure youre out of sight before then."

san nods. "just tell me what to bring."

the day goes by quickly until the last period finally rolls around. its geography, and as much as i love this subject, i end up skipping. san is having english and i couldnt convince him to skip, so i wait for him after school near the sportsfield.

the school soccer team are practicing, meaning all the lockerooms are unoccupied. its perfect.

i didnt usually target them, but the plan felt brilliant when i thought of it. usually i went for the girls, they were easy. expensive phone cases, airpods, clothes, and luxury perfume. all things that sold so easily online. people would do anything for a bargain.

can you imagine how much soccer gear would sell? i know damn well not every one of those players were using ALL of their gear.

plus, i need to get back at that asshole jongho. i didnt know his number so i'd just have to look around and guess whose locker smells the most potent and obnoxious.

san comes jogging around the bend, looking so prim and proper in his school blazer. i smirk in greeting. "you ready for some fun?" i ask him.

"i hope this doesnt take long, you know we have to catch the bus if we're going to your house," he reminds me.

i managed to convince my parents i was taking the bus with him home so they didnt have to pick us up. they called the school and made sure san wasnt a trouble maker and questioned his records. you know, a completely normal response.

"dont worry. i'll be in and out, lets go."

i take san's arm and we sneak into the separate building reserved for the boys lockerrooms. of course it smells like stale air, cologne and dampness.

i walk past the lockers and gaze at the numbers and locks. i check my watch. practice ends at 4:30 pm. its currently 4:00.

i nod to san and gesture with my eyes to the door. "guard while i get busy." i take various pins out of my pocket, having brought them specifically for this purpose.

"how are you gonna get those lockers open?" san asks me. i bend down infront of the first locker and start fiddling with my pins.

"lock-picking," i answer distractedly.

"you know how to pick locks?" san says in disbelief.

"you dont?"

"no. im not a weirdo."

"youre such a lousy gangster. arent you supposed to be street smart?"

"im not a gangster," san corrects me with an eye roll. hes feeling sassy today. "im a part time employee."

i cant take him seriously and end up chuckling. the locker clicks open and i find only a folded uniform on the inside. i rummage through the pockets and find a wallet. i open it and theres no cash, only cards. useless because as soon as its found to be missing they'll all be blocked.

i sigh and check deeper. i find a silver watch. its an omega brand. jackpot.

i slip it into my pocket and fold the uniform back. they should really secure these lockers better.

"are you getting somewhere?" san asks as he nervously looks out the door.

"of course," i say with ease and move onto the next locker. its slightly harder to open. i remember a specific scenario like this coming up in the youtube tutorial i watched. all i have to do is whatever that guy did.

it takes longer than i thought. when it pops open i can see san's distressed eyes glaring at me to hurry up.

and thats when i see it. the treasure guaranteed to win us a mini lottery.

"holy shit, look at this baby," i gasp and take out the camera, showing it to san.

"who leaves a camera in their gym locker?" san scowls. "that person deserves to get robbed."

"its expensive too!" i giggle in excitement. "its a Lumix GH5! you know the price of this? we're gonna be fucking rich!"

"who does it belong to?"

i shrug and look back inside the locker. there isnt much except the camera and a few pairs of gym socks and knee pads. "i guess we'll figure it out when we look at it."

i slam the locker shut and we're about to leave when san suddenly shoves me back. i stare at him in confusion as he runs out and i hear voices on the outside.

"what are you doing here?" someone asks him suspiciously. oh god. i recognize that voice. jongho.

"i...was looking for you," san says, and i can tell hes fighting for his life thinking of a good lie. "are there still spots left on the team?"

jongho scoffs. "youre kidding, right?"

theres an awkward silence. oh fuck i need to save him from himself.

"stick to the books, choi san. at least you dont embarrass yourself there."

"no im serious...i wanna join your team. is there anywhere to sign up?"

jongho groans. "im team captain, you have to go with me to the coach for this."

"lets go now then."

"i need to get something from my locker."

"uh...im in a hurry. can we just go now? i cant miss my bus home."

hes trying to get jongho away so i can sneak out. theyre right at the door. ive never held my breath so long.

"ugh! fine! couldnt you have asked earlier?" jongho snaps. "im guessing you need soccer for a sports scholarship too, huh? you wont get into any schools if you suck ass by the way."

i can just picture san's clenched jaw as he holds himself together around jongho. i hear their voices fade and steps grow further away. i stuff the camera and watch into my bag and sprint out and make my way around the school buildings. now i can jump the fence on the other side of the field.

i call san instantly when im alone, looking around for any security. he picks up on the first ring. "hey, im at the fence we jumped after detention. the bus stop is somewhere nearby here."

"okay okay mom, I'll be home right now," san says into the phone and im guessing hes making an excuse to get away from jongho now.

its funny how everything plays out. san gets to me within a few minutes and his face is red with stress. i hold my laugh in.

"next time YOU be the lookout," he says with a scowl and it makes me burst out into laughter.

"i thought you could lie better than that!" i nearly double over from chuckles. "you shouldve heard yourself. seriously youre a criminal and thats how you lie?"

"oh shut it. he wouldve seen you!"

san's angry face is really so adorable. he expects me to take him seriously like this?

"you should have hit him over the head instead," i sigh. "we couldve made him believe everything was a dream."

we jump the fence and end up catching the bus somewhere near my neighbourhood. the entire bus is empty, and san is on the verge of falling asleep, leaning his head against the window. im severely bored and decide to take the camera out to inspect the specs.

its such a good camera. i dont know a lot about cameras but i know by the brand its quality. i wonder which soccer guy has this hobby. maybe he wants to be a professional photographer.

i open the existing pictures and find random pictures of cars, birds, sunsets, and aesthetic places around the school. theres a folder named "her", so i click on it hoping to see something different.

...pictures of me.

thousands of them.

i feel my face pale, which is wrong on so many levels because im brown as fuck. the first few pictures are of me with a cigarette, smoking on and off campus. theyre from a year ago based on my hair colour. the other pictures are dated from two years ago and theyre filled with me in my school uniform.

the point of view is the part that leaves me cold in my bones. from above, places that cant easily be spotted. random corners capturing me sitting on my phone, bending over...looking around...

thats until i realize the lavender scrunchie in my hair. and the lack of bangs.

these arent just pictures of me. in fact, most of them are my sister.

next chapter

#ateez angst #ateez imagines #choi san angst #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez scenarios #choi san #choi san fluff #san angst #gang au #ateez gang au #ateez mystery

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

snake | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: Your parents have no qualms on doing whatever they can to climb the social ladder. That includes assigning you a betrothed you've never met, an offering to the crown prince. You, the one the gossipers whisper under their breath... the Snake Princess.

warnings: implied parental emotional and physical abuse; language; non-idol!AU - prince!Yoongi x aristocrat!reader, ft overprotective (but secretly soft), tattooed, little brother!JK; based on this

–

“I don’t care what our father said, you’re not marrying him!”

You scratched your ear, partly shielding it from the loud voice of your brother.

“He’s an asshole!”

“You don’t know him?” you offered, affixing your earring, somewhat annoyed. The yellow gold wasn’t quite your style. Your parents liked such gaudy, ugly things.

Both in fashion and tradition, unfortunately.

“Do you?” your brother shot back, throwing himself up from your bed where he was yelling at the ceiling about nothing he could change. It was a favorite past time of his, along with following you around like a talkative shadow.

“No, that’s why I’m meeting him today,” you replied dryly. You switched to the other ear, adding the dragon-shaped ear cuff above the gold earring. Your parents hated it when you added such aggressive accessories – they’re not womanly, they would say – but if you were going to be betrothed to some guy on the sole basis that they had ambitions and he was the man who so happened to be the next-in-line for the throne, you weren’t going to lie about what kind of woman you were.

“Aren’t you pissed?”

You shrugged. “Is it so bad?”

“Yes!”

You sighed and flickered your eyes to the mirror, seeing Jeon Jungkook’s furious expression, long black hair tied back with lingering strands framing his high cheekbones, his black and gold robes wild, poorly tied and revealing half of his tanned, toned chest. His dark brown eyes flashed, pressing his cherry-painted lips together, jawline sharp and defiant. That’s how Jungkook always looked, messy, undone, borderline furious.

Everyone called him the Reckless Prince.

You just called him little brother.

“Noona…”

“Hmm?”

You saw him frown and you looked away, running a hand through your hair, browsing your hair accessories. You used to have an aide to help you at one point, but you told your parents to get rid of them, preferring to get ready by yourself. And besides, Jungkook liked to burst in and interrupt you with his relentless tirades about how unfair your arranged marriage was. There was no point in having hired help when you could coerce your brother into doing things as you put up with him.

“Can I brush your hair?”

“You have arms and hands, so you’re physically capable, yes.”

You heard him click his tongue in annoyance and smirked, shifting your eyes to the mirror. He was behind you now, face no longer visible. It didn’t matter. You already knew his cross expression quite well. He snatched the ornate comb from your vanity, the black snake head clearly visible on the side of his right wrist, inked near his thumb. Your parents scolded and beat him for getting it, but Jungkook could care less, breaking the wooden paddle with ease, right out of your mother’s hand.

You hadn’t said anything.

The rumors called you the Snake Princess.

Quick-witted, sharp, vicious. Not to your face though, because that was just foolishness. It wouldn’t be only your wrath they would be evoking.

Jungkook ran the comb through your hair, gently separating the strands, careful not to pull too hard. He was better than any aide anyway. They merely yanked and pulled you into their standard of beauty, ignoring your opinions or input, always citing that it was important to not look like a peasant, important to always look above your status, using your beauty to save face.

Saving face.

You hated those words.

“What if he’s a horrible person?” your brother asked quietly, tucking the strands away from your eyes only for them to slip back stubbornly.

“Then he’s a horrible person,” you replied, applying your makeup. “And you’ll probably do something about it.”

Jungkook made a noise between an aggravated bear and an injured tiger.

“If he so much as puts one fingertip on you, I’ll kill him.”

You snorted. “I’d hate to tell you what marriage entails, Jungkook.”

The comb in your hair paused.

His anger subsided, just like that.

“You’re really going to do it?” he asked softly. “Really, really?”

You heard the pain in Jungkook’s voice.

You recalled when you received the news many years ago, silent fury as your parents gave you away, turning you into a transaction to raise their own reputation and status. Your reaction was nothing to your little brother’s, him running to your room and crying in your arms, distraught and upset that you were leaving him, declaring he hated your parents, everyone, and everything.

“You’re supposed to protect me,” Jungkook had sobbed, already too big for you to hold like this but you did anyway, patting his head and wiping his tears with your sleeve. “You’re supposed to be here, with me, forever and always.”

He had taken your hand, tucking his fingers in yours, pressing your pinkies together.

“You promised me.”

And you had, from the very beginning, the shy kid always following after you and making you speak for him, your parents yelling and scolding him to be a man, but you defending him, taking the slaps meant for him, sneaking him sweets when he was hiding his tears, telling him it was okay to cry and that noona would stay here and listen to his worries, no matter if it was as stupid as a butterfly flying away or the teacher once again reprimanding him for his poor scores.

The amount of pressure they put on him just because he was the son was immense.

“I wanna play,” he had cried softly. “I don’t have to study anymore.”

“You want to be stupid?” you had teased, patting his head. “What if I had my lessons with you? I can make that happen.”

“R-Really?”

So, you made it happen, telling your parents and tutors that it would be better for him to be exposed to more complex concepts earlier rather than later and watching someone learn would improve his own scores. You made yourself a better student for his benefit and he, in turn, followed obediently, doing what you did, always overjoyed to hear your praise.

You and your snake tongue could made anything happen for him.

“This servant is bothering me.”

You found some questionable information on that servant and they resigned rather quickly.

“I don’t like the girl our father introduced me to.”

Suddenly said girl was no longer interested in Jungkook. For… reasons.

“I wish I could go on vacation, even for a couple days.”

That one got you both beaten for your three-day adventure to the sea, mostly because you had to run away from your duties to do it. But it was worth it to see the smile on Jungkook’s face.

Then Jungkook became a teenager.

You might have taught him that rules were for old people, for the generation too uptight.

He wanted to do a whole lot of things and you made it happen. Getting him out of those sticky situations was a bit tough, but nothing unmanageable. And now Jungkook was a young adult who did not care about anyone’s opinion other than yours, getting tattooed and spending all of his time with his friends, lackadaisical and free, your parents giving up and calling him a disgrace, relying on your marriage to restore the reputation they valued so much, the face they themselves ruined with their own poor decisions, taking out their frustrations on you and Jungkook, sometimes without warning.

You stayed home, playing good daughter so Jungkook could be the bad son.

Ah, maybe it was your fault he was the Reckless Prince.

You turned, looking up at him now from the corner of your eye, up his loose robes and exposed collarbone, up the line of his jaw that was similar to yours, his lips not quite as full, his round brown orbs that were actually much more innocent and purer than he liked to admit, similar to your eye shape.

But not the same.

Because your eyes were sharper, cold-blooded, predatory.

Even with Jungkook, there was no mistaking the power behind your gaze.

“Do you think just because I’m married to some man that he can control my life?” you said with a sly smile, your lips painted lush red. “I’ll come visit you whenever I want. You can come whenever you want. You can live with me if you want.”

You turned back, sweeping your hair and twisting it in place, deftly and quickly pinning it back, leaving some strands loose and messy that your parents would highly disapprove of, but why did that matter? If this man was to be your husband, then he would see you completely undone at one point, so he should get used to it.

Your parents wouldn’t approve of the black and dark green combination you had chosen either, but that’s why you learned how to sew to dress yourself as you liked. You have to be a lady. You were a lady. Just your version of a lady and not theirs. They tried to gatekeep you by saying that the pink and yellow fabrics were all they could afford. They had a tendency to underestimate your craftiness.

No obstacle was too high for the Snake Princess to slither over.

“Really?” Jungkook asked as you stood up, smoothly adjusting the tie at your waist.

You chuckled at him as he began to follow you out of your bedroom.

“If that’s what you want, I’ll do it for you.”

“You brought your brother.”

“I don’t bring him anywhere. He comes and goes as he pleases.”

Jungkook was sitting behind you, arms crossed, glaring at the dark-haired man sitting in front of you. You had mildly fixed his appearance before entering only from him to push up his sleeves so he could reveal the entire snake tattoo wrapped around his arm, a black snake surrounded by thorned vines.

“Hmm.”

This man had requested to meet you first, alone, without the parents. Untraditional, but as long as his father agreed to the request, it was done. Your father had no say in the matter, although he did protest rather loudly and uncouthly.

You had poured the tea for your future husband and you.

Neither of you were drinking it.

The man before you had a piercing gaze, cloud-white skin, shapely lips. Somehow, he surprised you by being dressed in black and gold as well, although he was much neater than Jungkook, black hair tied back in a the usual, curated traditional style.

“I intend in marrying you, you know.”

He had a deep, rough voice, reminding you of dead leaves and winter.

“Is that not the point of this meeting?” was your dry response.

A dark eyebrow lifted.

Jungkook clicked his tongue dismissively.

Those shapely lips curved into a slow smirk.

“I thought I wouldn’t like you,” the dark-haired man mused, reaching over to the teacup and pulling it to him. “I was fully prepared to refuse this proposal and put your family more in the dirt than your brother has already put them into.”

“You bas–” Jungkook hissed, but you held up a hand, cutting him off.

You kept your eyes on those dark brown orbs, cat-like and predatory. He took a deep inhale of the aroma of the tea, letting out a satisfied, smokey sigh.

“I thought you would be like the others. Prim, proper, begging for me to take your hand.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What do I need to beg for? You either will or you won’t. It has nothing to do with me.”

A dark chuckle. “Indeed.”

He took a long sip of the tea, savoring it. You watched him swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing, tongue flickering out to lick his lips. Slowly lowering his head, scrutinizing gaze on you. He made you wait for his words.

“And besides, snakes can’t kneel, can they, Snake Princess?” he purred.

“Don’t you dare call her that!”

“No, they cannot,” you replied calmly, ignoring Jungkook’s outburst, staring into the eyes of the man who was going to decide whether or not you were going to be his wife.

“They can’t pray either.”

The dark-haired man tilted his head, intrigued.

“I have no need for gods to be able to live the life I want, Min Yoongi,” you said quietly, venomous edge to your voice. “The ties you put on me cannot restrain me from living as frivolously or ambitiously as I like.”

Min Yoongi, the man who would decide whether you would live an honorable or disgraceful life, the man who was next-in-line, the crown prince. You were meant to be his, but, unlike you, he was free to refuse. Unlike you, he had nothing to lose. Unlike you, he could destroy your life in a heartbeat with a simple no.

“You believe that?” Yoongi questioned, daring you.

You didn’t back down, small serpentine smile on your lips.

“I do not need to believe when I know.”

Silence.

Then Yoongi’s shoulders shook, raspy laughing bubbling from his throat, smirk on his lips.

“You want me to refuse. You want to ruin your parents’ lives.”

You didn’t say anything, your smile fading.

“Ah, but the problem is, I really do like you, Snake Princess,” Yoongi hummed. “You sharp tongue and you even sharper mind. A simpler man would have been tricked by you.” He tapped his long fingers against the table, keeping his feline poise directed at you. “I did not want some placid, useless little thing but a real woman, someone who isn’t afraid to say what she thinks. Why have a trophy when you can have a weapon?”

He placed his chin on the back of his other hand, clicking his tongue thoughtfully.

“What shall we do then? You absolutely must be my wife.”

“You–” Jungkook hissed, rising up behind you, glaring at Yoongi over your shoulder. “You know she doesn’t want to marry you and yet you’re going to do it anyway?”

The dark-haired man raised an eyebrow. “She doesn’t want to marry me because she wants her parents to pay for using her so carelessly to further their status. However,” he added with a sweep of his hand on the table, palm upward towards you. “Has she actually said she has no interest in me as a person? During this entire meeting, has she declared that I, the crown prince, am not to her liking?”

Yoongi gave Jungkook a sharp look.

“Do you think she would hide her disdain for me if she had some?”

Silence.

“N… Noona?”

“Yes, Jungkook?”

“You don’t like him at all… right?”

Silence.

You let out a deep breath, slow and controlled.

“Hmm, you are very intuitive.”

Yoongi grinned. “You know we would be a good match, you and I. Here,” he murmured, pointing to the table. “On the throne.” Pointing outside, indicating the land. His cat-like eyes locked with your snake-like gaze, lips forming his next words slowly and deliberately.

“In bed.”

Your eyes trailed from those glittering dark eyes to his pleased smirk. Not a malicious expression somehow. An exciting one. You fully expected to be walking into this room to tear down an arrogant, gaudy man with grandiose self-centeredness.

Instead, it was Min Yoongi.

He ticked his chin to Jungkook, now right next you instead of behind you, clutching your arm tightly.

“Do you want him to be with you? That could be arranged. I can make that happen.”

You really thought you would hate Min Yoongi and yet it seemed as if you were being drawn closer and closer to him. You pursed your lips, not ready to give up yet. He continued.

“And, of course, there’s no reason for your parents to enjoy luxuries that they didn’t earn, is there?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. Yoongi smiled, calm with an underlying slyness.

“That would reflect on you if you treated your in-laws poorly,” you responded coolly.

Yoongi shrugged. “And so? I still have you.” He tilted his head. “Why take a wife if you’re not prepared to do anything for her?” He nodded to himself, tapping his fingertips on the table once more. “Whatever you want, I can make it happen. Be it your brother tagging along, your parents’ lives in ruins…”

Yoongi’s eyes found yours and there was a kindness, already knowing your and him were meant to be.

You weren’t so sure.

And yet.

His next words made you fall in love.

“If that’s what you want, I’ll do it for you.”

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #yoongi scenarios #bts fanfic #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you

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wondernimbus · 4 years

Text

everything you didn’t say — draco malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x female!reader

summary: reader has secrets of her own. a party at the malfoy manor reveals them.

a/n: i had to rewrite this bc im dumb n my first draft didn't save which was Very upsetting but anyways i hope you like it :'')

“Well, don’t you look dashing.”

Draco’s eyes snap up in the mirror.

[Y/N] is standing in his doorway, having somehow opened the door without him noticing. She has one shoulder leaning on the doorframe, arms folded over her chest, eyebrows raised. There is a glint in her eye that Draco knows all too well; that of playfulness, of fondness. One he has long since associated with safety.

He breathes out a short laugh. “How long have you been standing there?” Draco asks, ringed fingers deftly resuming to work on his tie, but he isn’t having much success. He feels far too jittery, and as a result he keeps accidentally knotting it, only to unwind the silk and try again, over and over like some messed up routine.

Watching her through the mirror’s reflection, he sees [Y/N] step into the room. She’s wearing a plain black dress; lace sleeves, collarbones in display, the silver necklace he’d given her hanging around her neck.

“Long enough to find out that you’re a grown seventeen year old who doesn’t know how to tie his own tie.”

Draco still has it in him to roll his eyes, to let out a short-lived laugh. “I do,” he mutters, yanking a little at the fabric in frustration. “It’s just..”

[Y/N] swiftly pads across his room to join him at the dresser, a tiny grin playing across her lips. Standing in front of him, she gently knocks his hands away so as to work on his tie herself.

“Nerves?” she says quietly. The grin on her lips falls slightly as she fixes her gaze on his tie, hands quickly working to loop the loose ends together.

Draco inhales sharply. His palms are clammy, his heart is beating too fast inside of his chest—to say that he’s dealing with nerves would be an understatement.

”You could say that,” he decides, curling and uncurling his fists at his sides. When she looks up to meet his gaze, he tries for a weak smile, if only to quell the storm inside his heart.

”It’ll be fine,” [Y/N] tells him with a pursed smile. She’s done tying his tie. Her hands move to rest on his shoulders, which are covered with his suit jacket. His mother had insisted he wear it, just as her own mother had no doubt insisted [Y/N] wear her dress; it is somewhat of a special occasion, after all, although what they are celebrating is hardly something that neither draco nor [Y/N] feel too ecstatic about it.

”There’ll be drinks,” continues [Y/N] with a lilting tone, thumbs smoothing over the creases of his suit. “And..”

She trails off. There isn’t really much to say.

”Dancing?” Draco suggests half-heartedly.

There is one brief second in which their eyes meet, and both of their lips are already beginning to quirk up at the corners, and then the next they are both breaking out into laughter. And it’s not the kind that hurts your stomach or has you pounding your fists on the ground, but it’s laughter nonetheless—a little rigid, a little heavy-hearted, but it’s just as relieving.

[Y/N]’s shoulders wrack with subtle giggles. “Yeah,” she agrees, nodding. “And I suspect Greyback will be giving a motivational speech.”

Draco feels his lips tug up into a crooked grin. “Hear my aunt might skip out on the party. She’s got knitting to do, you see.”

Both of them let themselves paint a picture inside their head: the infamous, untamed Bellatrix, sitting in a quiet corner with a quilt in her lap, humming a little tune to herself.

[Y/N] throws her head back in a loud laugh, and this time it’s not quite as tense. Draco watches her, laughing quietly on his own, and suddenly his heart doesn’t feel quite so heavy anymore.

He watches as the last of her giggles dissipate, and she is smiling down at her shoes again, and then back up at him.

“We’ll be okay,” she tells him softly, once more reaching out, but not to tie his tie or to smoothen out the creased fabric of his suit, but to card her fingers through his hair the way she knows relaxes him.

Staring down at her—holding her gaze, which is warm and comforting and reminiscent of simpler times, like when she would sneak into his bed at Hogwarts and they would whisper and laugh quietly into the night, taking care not to wake up any of his roommates—Draco allows himself to breathe. To feel like himself again; a boy in love and nothing more.

”Yeah,” he says, closing his eyes, leaning forward to lean his forehead on hers. “Yeah, we will.”

—

Gatherings at the Malfoy Manor were usually a grand event; peacocks would mill about the lawn, some wandering past the large castle doors and into the drawing room, where the guests would stroke their feathers in admiration with one hand and hold a glass of the finest mulled wine in the other as they spoke among themselves, laughing and boasting offhandedly about the ancient living room set they'd imported from France or their children's future careers. Sometimes one would have enough courage to bring up the notion of arranged marriages, only for Narcissa Malfoy to turn them down and say that Draco would choose for himself when the time came, veering the conversation away towards things like ministry connections.

Parties happened often back then—not as much to celebrate as to fill up the overly large halls of the manor with pointless chatter—but things have changed. It’s been a while since the Malfoys last opened their doors to guests.

Does this count as a party? Draco wonders to himself, watching Death Eaters filter into the drawing room, some wearing sickening grins and others looking dead inside.

There are no more wandering peacocks. No more music, no more friendly guests eager to wed their children into the Malfoy family. There are only murderers. Death Eaters. There is laughter, but the kind that has Draco feeling uneasy.

Things have changed. Draco wonders if it's for the better.

He knows he and [Y/N] can't hide here forever—at the edge of the shadowed banister overlooking the entrance hall—but they stay there for as long as they can, until his grim-looking mother comes up the staircase and beckons for them to join the party.

Party. Ha.

So Draco and [Y/N] trail after Narcissa, who leads them into the drawing room, where most of the Death Eaters have gathered. No peacocks, no music, but there is wine, and almost everyone is clutching a glass of it.

He feels [Y/N]'s fingers graze against his. Looking over at her, she sees him staring placidly in front of her, meeting no one's gaze, but she seems to feel his eyes on her—so she turns her head to the side, and Draco sees her facade slip away for the smallest of split seconds as the look on her face softens and she gives him this small, reassuring smile.

He can almost hear her voice inside his head: we'll be okay.

Draco swallows. Nods just a fraction of an inch.

People clap him on the back as he passes, congratulating him and [Y/N] for a job well done at fixing the Vanishing Cabinet. Draco nods mutely and lets [Y/N] do the talking—she has always been better at keeping her composure, masking her true thoughts.

"Could never have imagined it," cackles Alecto Carrow, marching up to them in the middle of the large room. Her cheeks are already tinged pink with intoxication, voice a higher pitch than usual. "Most I expected from you lot was.. well, nothing, really. Doubted you could even fix a dresser, much less a whole bloody cabinet!" she shrieks with laughter, some of the wine from her glass spilling onto the floor.

[Y/N]'s gaze is stony. "Thank you."

Alecto’s nose wrinkles, her chortles dying down. "Thank you?" she repeats. "S'that all you have to say?"

For a brief, horrifying moment, Draco almost thinks [Y/N] is going to bite back with a sarcastic remark—but things have changed and there is a mark on her arm now, so instead she says, flatly, "It wasn’t an easy feat." A slight pause. "We’re just as surprised as you."

Alecto grins. She seems satisfied. "Well, 'course it wasn't an easy feat, or at least for you." She takes a big swig out of her glass. "Could’ve done it myself in ten minutes, isn't that right, Amycus?"

Her brother Amycus snickers but doesn't reply. Draco knows it's because he doubts Alecto's claims just as much as they do; she doesn't seem capable of writing even a bloody paragraph on her own.

"Well," says [Y/N]. "We appreciate your.. praise."

Draco almost snorts. It’s uncharacteristic of her to be so formal, and most of all to take the high road when being insulted. He knows that if things were different, if their lives weren't on the line, she wouldn't be standing here at Draco's side—no, her wand would be at Alecto's throat.

But that little bit of humor quickly fades when Draco finds Amycus staring at [Y/N], uncouth eyes roaming from her lips to her exposed collarbones, the skin hiding just underneath the lace of her sleeves, the dress hugging her figure—

Draco feels anger flare up, hot and heavy inside of his chest. Unconsciously, he finds himself stepping forward, urged on by that unpleasant feeling worming its way into his stomach, curling his hands into fists, tinging the tips of his ears red as his fingers edge closer to the wand inside his pocket.

¨What are you looking at, boy?¨ Amycus sneers, meeting his gaze.

Draco thinks, at that moment, that magic would hardly be fit to put this ugly brute of a man in his place—no, he´d much rather use his fists, pummel them into that crooked nose of his until he kneels at [Y/N]’s feet and begs for her forgiveness, because no one should look at her like that—

[Y/N] is whispering something, but he can´t hear it through the blood rushing in his ears.

But all of a sudden, Amycus’s gaze changes. He is no longer looking at Draco; rather, at something over his shoulder, and then he is bowing his head, eyes downcast.

All it takes Draco is a brief glance behind him to realize why.

He hears [Y/N] now: he’s here. He’s here.

An odd hush has fallen over the large room. The cause is easy to pinpoint; the Dark Lord has appeared at the entrance of the large drawing room, bringing with him a familiar sense of foreboding as everyone’s breath seems to hitch. It’s funny, in a sick way, how easily the atmosphere has shifted from something like ease to suffocating tension. How Alecto, who had been cackling into her glass of wine just moments before, now looks like a dog called to heel. How Amycus has torn his hungry gaze away from [Y/N] to instead stare down obediently at his feet. How Draco’s own parents, who stand a few feet away from the Dark Lord at the entrance, have their lips pursed and their hands clasped in front of them in submission.

Draco would laugh, but he is one of them now, and his head is hung just like the rest of them.

¨My, my,¨ says the Dark Lord, tone soft. ¨What a lovely party.¨

It had been he, the Dark Lord, who had suggested the idea of a celebration to revere in Draco´s and [Y/N]´s success. Not out of fondness, of course, but out of sheer spite for the Malfoys, caused by Lucius’s failure at the Department of Mysteries. This party was just another part of his little mind games; not only had he forced their son, Draco, to let Death Eaters loose inside Hogwarts, but he was now forcing them to celebrate it.

But why is he here?

It had been he who proposed the party, but no one had expected the Dark Lord to actually come. He had other things of actual importance to attend to: things that involved torture and kidnap and blackmail. He was on the brink of taking over the Ministry of Magic, and thus was a busy man—the Dark Lord only goes where he is needed, and not to pointless parties.

Draco swallows.

So why is he here?

¨It is only right, of course,¨ Voldemort continues, his voice still so oddly soft, like he´s addressing children, ¨That we celebrate the success of our young Death Eaters. The task I gave them was not an easy one, I’m afraid, and yet they prevailed, in the end, and proved themselves to us.¨

He wonders if Voldemort has spotted him and [Y/N], and feels bile rise at the back of his throat. Draco doesn´t want him anywhere near her.

Just leave, Draco thinks to himself, his teeth gritted so tight he hears how they scrape inside his skull. Just leave.

“I must admit, a few months ago I had my doubts.. but now here we are, applauding them, congratulating them for a job well done, treating them as one of our own.. welcoming them.”

“Draco.”

[Y/N] has inched closer to him. A moment later she feels her fingers weaving through his, squeezing his palm so tight Draco knows without having to look that her knuckles have turned a ghostly white.

He squeezes back, thinking that she might just be as surprised as him. Just as nervous.

It’ll be okay, he tries to tell her without saying it out loud. He´s too scared to speak. It’ll be okay.

¨And yet even as we toast to their names..¨

Draco keeps his head down. He can hear the sound of Voldemort´s robes rasping against the floor as he moves about the room.

But that is not the only thing he hears. Cold sweat trickles down the side of his temple, because in the Dark Lord’s voice he hears an edge. He senses danger.

A thought bounces around Draco’s skull as he fixes his gaze intently on his shoes: why is he here?

"Even as we welcome them with open arms.. as we let them walk among us unharmed, revered, almost, for their bravery..¨

¨Draco,¨ [Y/N] repeats, a little louder this time but only for his ears, and if the room wasn´t so quiet he wouldn´t have heard her ragged, almost panicked breathing, but it was and he did.

He senses uneasy movement from behind him. One of the other Death Eaters.

¨Despite our kindness, one of them dares to turn away from us. One of them dares—¨ The Dark Lord´s voice grows colder, angrier, losing control and then all of a sudden softening again after a pregnant pause; ¨One of them dared.. dares to feed information to the fools that call themselves the Order of the Phoenix.¨

Draco hears the collective murmur of surprise that ripples through the room.

“Draco.” [Y/N]’s grip on his hand, if possible, tightens.

¨One of them dares betray us.¨

There is a brief moment of confusion on Draco´s part. He turns his head to look at [Y/N], brows furrowed as he struggles to make sense of the Dark Lord´s words.

But then Draco meets her eyes. Sees the look on her face.

¨I´m sorry,¨ she whispers, and realization hits him like a burst of icy cold water.

¨Seize her,¨ Voldemort says coldly. When Draco looks up, he sees that he is halfway across the room but his gaze is fixed on them—on [Y/N].

Amycus and Alecto are the first to move. They drop their glasses with no hesitation, sending them to the floor where they break into a hundred tiny pieces, and grab [Y/N] by the arms. She resists, wrestling in their arms, but the string of words that leave her mouth aren´t curses, nor are they pleas to let her go; no, they are apologies, repeated over and over again like a mantra as she desperately holds Draco´s gaze—”I’m sorry, Draco. I’m sorry.”

He watches as they yank [Y/N] across the floor, towards the Dark Lord, away from him. His lungs have stopped working, his heart is pounding wildly somewhere inside his throat, and [Y/N] is being roughly thrown at the Dark Lord´s feet—

Draco can´t breathe. His mind is buzzing, blanking out to a field of white, noise and heat colliding and melting until he can´t think through the blood rushing in his ears.

“Pity,” the Dark Lord whispers, gripping her chin harshly, jerking it up so that she would look at him.

“I thought you'd proved yourself to be worthy of my praise, but instead it seems you've proved yourself to be rather the opposite—“

She snaps her head away. “Fuck you.”

“You, my child, have proved yourself to be a fool.”

“You´re never going to win.”

The Dark Lord seems unfazed. A grin splits wide on his face, stretching his lips into an uncannily amused grin as he stares down at the girl at his feet for a few seconds before nodding—and then turning around, twirling his wand in his hands—when had he pulled it out?

“And now, my brothers and sisters.”

Draco doesn’t feel his feet move underneath him, but they do.

“Lo and behold what happens to ungrateful fools who turn us away believing that they are saving the world, when in fact they are ruining themselves.”

Everything happens so quickly that Draco barely has any time to react; Voldemort raises his wand, and it seems to almost shine in the light as he points it directly towards [Y/N]—the Dark Lord´s mouth opens, the spell resting on the tip of his tongue, [Y/N] at the opposite end of his wand—

“No!”

It’s as though something inside of Draco has snapped, like he is being jarred awake. He doesn´t think—just darts forward with no real goal in mind other than to put himself in between Voldemort and [Y/N], but then there are hands grabbing at his arms, holding him back—

“Let go of me!” his tone is feral. He jabs his elbow into someone´s stomach, trying desperately to wrestle himself free, but the more Death Eaters he rips off of him, the more take their place. “[Y/N]!” he is breathless. “[Y/N]—”

The Dark Lord is going to kill her. He´s going to bloody kill her.

“Draco,” he hears his mother´s voice but doesn’t see her—he´s too busy thrashing wildly in the arms of whoever has hold of him, yelling out profanities and curses and [Y/N]´s name; “Draco, come. You don´t want to see this.”

“Let fucking go of me!”

But then the Dark Lord´s voice cuts through the havoc—¨Let him stay.¨

“[Y/N]!” Draco shouts, gritting his teeth. There are tears in his eyes; he doesn´t realize they´re there until they´ve fallen and he tastes them on his tongue. “Don´t touch her! Don´t fucking touch her!”

But the Dark Lord is, once again, unfazed. He turns his gaze to Draco but doesn´t lower his wand. “Watch, my child,” he says, voice ringing throughout the room, cold and unforgiving. “And pay close attention. This is what happens to cowards. To fools. To ungrateful scum.”

[Y/N]´s back is turned to Draco, and maybe it is better that way, because when the Dark Lord raises his wand, he doesn´t have to see the light leave her eyes.

Draco feels the entire world slow down. A single thought appears inside the ruined mess that is his mind, almost as if it’s mocking him—[Y/N] has always been better at masking her true thoughts. At hiding things; even from him.

We’ll be okay, [Y/N] had told him.

She had lied.

¨Avada Kedavra!¨

general taglist: @dancing-in-the-moonlight3 @kalimagik @alittletoomanyobsessions @hariosborn @obsessedwithrandomthings @emcchi @sxrensxngwrites @enjoying-fantasyland21 @masterofthedarkness @siriusly-addicted-to-writing @bforbroadway @hufflefluff-writer @summer-writes @chaotic-fae-queen @firewhisky-kisses @dracosvftie @heloisedaphnebrightmore @idont-knowrn @dreamer821 @peachesandpinks @slytherinprincess03 @chocfrogaddict @nebulablakemurphy @kpopgirlbtssvt @lumielikesbooks @teheharrypotter @susceptible-but-siriusexual @chaoticgirl04

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slasherkisss · 4 years

Note

Sometime ago i asked you for headcanons on dbd killers seeing their pre-entity s/o again in their trial. This time around, could I ask for oni, pyramid head, deathslinger, ghost face, pig, nurse and plague? Not too many characters i hope...

[THIS IS A LONG LIST SO ITS UNDER A READMORE]

Killers Seeing Their S/O During a Trial

Kazan Yamaoka/The Oni

Similar to his predecessor, he thinks you’re not real for a while. A hallucination meant to test him. Something he must get out of his way

When he realizes that it’s you he stops his attack and just stares down at you, awe on his face

“Y/N...”

“K...K-Kazan?”

Your hand would reach up to touch his face and - oh - how he missed your touch. He would lean into it, eyes closing as he accepts the feeling of feeling you again.

He hugs you and bring you close, pleased that you’re here. Pleased he can see you again. That you can be near him so you can be protected by him.

Will not kill you this first round, though he knows he can’t avoid it forever, but leaves you to your own devices and knows you can get out yourself

Makes it very clear to other killers after the trial that you are not to be hurt or messed with in any way, unless they want to deal with him personally

Pyramid Head/The Executioner

He’s surprised to see you to say the least

When you’re tangled in his web of barbed wire, struggling and whimpering against it, he recognizes you from your face. From the smell of your blood

He frees you and holds you, tilting his head as he admires you and you gasp to see him, almost relieved that it was someone familiar

That is, until he drags you off to a hook and hooks you there

He won’t stop his job in the Entity’s realm for you. He has a duty that he has to uphold. A purpose he has to manage

You’ll understand.

He’s serious about it, but not before brushing his hand lovingly along the blade of your shoulder for the briefest of moments, tilting his head at you before going off to catch more of his prey

Usually hooks you first because you’ll die faster and it’ll be a mercy at least. You deserve that much

Caleb Quinn/The Deathslinger

He figures out it’s you after his gun sinks into your shoulder, dragging you back into him

When he sees you at the end of his gun his mouth parts into an ear splitting smirk

“Well, well, well. Fancy seein’ you here, Darlin.”

Teases you and keeps you on his hook, laughing as you try to struggle and smack him away with a pout

“What, not happy to see your ol’ partner? I know I’m happy to see you.”

Really is happy to! He kisses your neck and keeps you close for a long while before you feel his fingers dig into your flesh and his muscles tense as he grunts

“Still... I do gotta job to do.”

Hooks you at the end of the trial, admiring your bleeding and struggling form on the hook and tilting his head with a hum at you

“Ain’t nothin’ personal, lover, just business. Let’s catch up sometime after though~.”

He walks away and leaves you to be scarified, thinking about how he’s going to sneak into the survivor camp to make good on that request

Danny Johnson/The Ghostface

Oh this boy is gonna fuck with you so hard

The moment he realizes that it’s you his efforts to scare you and run you around the map are just the worst possible things

He’ll make sure you’re the last survivor, picking you up and dropping you, letting you crawl right to the trap door before slamming his boot into your spine and holding you there

He’ll lean in behind you and pull his mask up, making you feel his hot breath on your neck before licking a stripe up it and making you squirm

“You miss me, baby~?”

The second you recognize his voice you freeze and he chuckles darkly

“We’re gonna have a lot of fun here, sweetheart. I can’t wait to play with you, just like old times yeah?”

Carves his initial into your spine and shoves you down the trap door, making you wait for a lull in the trials or the next trial to see him

You’re his new favorite plaything now, get used to it!

Amanda Young/The Pig

Doesn’t believe its you at first. It takes her like 3 trials to accept that, hey, maybe it is my lover

When she finally realizes she’ll sneak up on you at some point and just tackle you into a hug

You’ll recognize her by her laughter behind you

She fucks with you in the trial but like. In funny ways. Making you trip or pantsing a nearby fellow survivor. She just wants to make you laugh.

She just wants to make sure you don’t realize the kind of place that you’re in with her. the kind of rules you two have to follow.

Won’t kill you if she can help it, and avoids the subject to other killers and the entity itself, she’s just happy to have you around honestly

It’s her business what you are to her and no one else’s, she’ll shank anyone who asks

Sally Smithson/The Nurse

Upset to see you. She doesn’t want you to be here!

She’ll touch your face with both her hands on the first trial, bringing you close and pressing her forehead to yours with a soft wail

“I’m... so sorry... you have to be here too....”

Straight up avoids you. She doesn’t want to have to acknowledge you or manage your existence

You’ll survive just because she’s keeping herself from you after the initial meet

She doesn’t want you to see her like this. She doesn’t want to hurt you again.

It’s better for you both if she just stays away, if you seek her out though she gets kind of angry

May try to hook you and sacrifice you just to show you that you REALLY need to stay away from her. You need to run and be afraid like other survivors

You... can’t love her anymore, she’ll think, just look at her... why would you still love her?

Adiris/The Plague

Shocked when she fist sees you

Her entire body freezes and she lingers before you, as beautiful as she ever was, and her gaze is trying to find a sign

A sign that the deities are testing her. That she’s being tried. That this isn’t real.

When her name slips from your lips, though, she knows it’s truly you and her heart aches

“Oh, my dearest... Why were they so cruel as to bring you here?”

Her hand touches your cheek and she’s genuinely sad that you’re here

She would never want this life for you. Of fear and torment. It was fine for her but, oh, you were so much more than her at all times

Lets you go as often as she can for trials and, if she must murder you or hook you, it’s always as gentle as possible and with a look of pain on her own face

#Anonymous #dbd #dead by daylight #dbd oni #dbd deathslinger #dbd ghostface #dbd plague #dbd nurse #dbd pig #dbd executioner #pyramid head #caleb quinn #kazan yamaoka #adiris #sally smithson #amanda young #danny johnson #dbd imagine #dbd x reader

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

Note

The Nie brothers time travel but something goes wrong and they end up in each other bodies. So now they have to defeat WRH, find a way to curb JGY worst tendencies, and hide (and undo) the switch before any cultivator decides they are possesed by evil spirits

“I can’t do this,” Nie Huaisang announced heavily. “I can’t. Nope. Cannot. No way.”

“You apparently found a way to time travel into the past,” his brother pointed out. He was taking this entire thing very calmly – or, rather, like he’d heard a really great joke. It wasn’t that Nie Huaisang had forgotten that his brother had a sense of humor hidden under the rage, especially in the earlier years before Jin Guangyao got at him, but he may have downplayed his memories of how annoying it was to be the target of it. “Your abilities are clearly well beyond what you’ve been leading me to believe.”

“I’m sneaky,” Nie Huaisang explained. “I can scheme and plot and play politics, sometimes, if I have to. But I cannot be a general!”

I cannot be you, he meant. He might currently be inhabiting his long-dead brother’s body – an unfortunate side effect of messing up the time travel array, he suspected, but then again experimental things were often imperfect – while his brother’s spirit had been cast out into his own former self, but he wasn’t his brother.

He could never be.

(But Nie Mingjue was alive, alive and well with bright eyes and that stupid smirk that didn’t fit right on Nie Huaisang’s smaller face except in the ways it sort of did, and that was all Nie Huaisang had ever wanted in his life, other than Jin Guangyao to pay in blood and shame for depriving him of it.)

“Why not?” his brother asked. He leaned back and stretched lazily. Nie Mingjue never did a lazy thing in his whole life, so it was deliberate. He was enjoying this. “We have a battle strategy, already decided; most of the rest of it is on-the-ground tactics, which can be done just as well from behind the lines as at the front of them. There’s a reason that no one ever settled on the best place for a war-leader to be – it comes down to temperament.”

Nie Huaisang threw his hands into the air. “I know that! I was sect leader for nearly two decades, da-ge; I assure you, I’ve heard all the sect’s philosophical musings by now. But I don’t have your temperament – there’s no way someone won’t figure out what’s happened, that we’ve switched, and that’ll be a disaster.”

“Two decades,” Nie Mingjue said thoughtfully, focusing on the entirely wrong part of the conversation.

“A decade and a half to avenge your untimely murder,” that got a flinch out of his brother and his focus back, just as Nie Huaisang had wanted, “and another five to find a way to come back and avert it entirely.”

Nie Huaisang had always been resourceful. Resourceful, and ruthless – sometimes to a degree that scared even him.

When he was younger, it was okay. After all, the only thing he used it for was sneaking treats and spoiling himself, and it didn’t really matter if he was ruthless about stuff like that. And then his brother died – was murdered – and suddenly he knew what it was like to be his brother: a young man suddenly shoved into the role of sect leader, and having to balance everything he now had to be against the overwhelming blistering hatred he bore for and the crippling weight of the vengeance he had sworn against a man who had taken away someone he loved forever for something as pointless and ephemeral as political advantage.

(He had to take a deep breath at the mere thought of it, the family rage spiking under his skin. It was a bit of a surprise, actually, to find that his brother didn’t have more of it - he’d always assumed that his rage was lesser, weaker, the way his golden core was, but no. It turned out their rage was just the same.)

“So what you’re saying,” his brother said, and he was smirking again, oh no, “is that you’re focused, efficient, and unyielding in pursuit of your goals, given the right motivation. That sounds like general material to me.”

“Not if the goal is to make sure no one knows what’s happened,” Nie Huaisang hissed. Had own face always looked so incredibly punchable? “Da-ge, it doesn’t matter what type of general I might be. What matters is that it’s not the same type of general you are – you’re always at the front line, leading the charge. I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can,” his brother said. “By the time you’re in the middle of a charge, you’re not really thinking tactics anymore. It’s all just fighting, and I know you know all the moves, no matter how much you bitch and moan about having to practice them.”

Nie Huaisang glared, crossing his arms over his chest – his brother’s arms, his brother’s chest, and this was still just too weird. He hadn’t even had time to properly weep and cry and hug his brother the way he’d expected to in the event the time travel array worked; they’d had to jump straight into explanations and strategizing because there was a pretty big battle happening in less than twenty-four hours and they needed to fix this first.

His brother rolled his eyes at him, and for the first time Nie Huaisang realized that his brother was going to have no problem at all pretending to be him – the acting problem here went only one way. “Just let Baxia handle the aggression part, okay? The rest is muscle memory, and I, at least, have done enough to build that in.”

“Letting the saber spirit in like that is dangerous, da-ge,” Nie Huaisang reminded him, eyes narrowed. His brother was also assuming that Baxia would agree to be wielded by anyone other than her beloved master, which was a stretch – she barely even agreed to be sharpened by someone else, resisting violently whenever someone tried.

Jin Guangyao had died still bearing the scars from his attempt.

“Well, apparently I get murdered before it becomes an issue, so why worry?” his brother cackled, and Nie Huaisang glared harder. It had no impact whatsoever: Nie Mingjue stood up and stretched again. “You know what, Huaisang, if you’re feeling the need to sit around and pity yourself, you’ve got at least a few incense sticks’ worth of time to do it in before actually doing something becomes necessary – I, on the other hand, am going to do something productive with my time.”

“Like what?”

His brother grinned at him with teeth. “Saber training. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

Nie Huaisang picked up a teacup and hurtled it at his beloved big brother’s head. Naturally, Nie Mingjue dodged, effortlessly, and left laughing.

“At least pretend like you’re going to behave!” Nie Huaisang bellowed after him, but his brother just waved at him, and – ugh. This was vengeance for a lifetime of laziness, wasn’t it? Coming to bite him in the ass.

After a few minutes, Nie Huaisang picked up another teacup – they always had dozens of them in the Nie sect, cheaply made in bulk and specifically designed to shatter easily because of the family tendency to throw stuff around and not calm down until something was broken, and better a cheap teacup than an expensive door or table, better something designed not to hurt anyone who happened to get in the way or didn’t know how to duck faster enough – and threw it against the door again.

It shattered beautifully. NIe Huaisang had only rarely been able to get it to do that, and never so effortlessly – the advantage of his brother’s strength.

Strength, and height. Nie Huaisang was tall now.

Okay, self-pity could wait until later. Nie Huaisang was going to go patrol the camp for a little bit and enjoy looking down at all the people.

It was going to be great.

It was, too. Even talking with people wasn’t as difficult as he thought it was going to be. Perhaps he shouldn’t be so surprised at that; he had been sect leader for years, so he was accustomed to answering questions and making on-the-fly rearrangements and responding to things with leading questions that made the other person come up with the solution on their own, not to mention saying encouraging things that made people feel better about things.

He’d had to do a lot of that, being the Head-shaker, and even more afterwards, when he’d shed his disguise like a cicada shedding its skin.

It was easier now than it had ever been before, of course. The Nie sect was still strong, under his brother’s leadership; his disciples didn’t have that discouraged look lurking in the back of their eyes, the shame of being led by the disgraceful Head-shaker. It was easy to brighten someone’s day with a nod in their direction, disciples blooming like roses at the sight of their stern sect leader looking approving, and the questions he received were far more intellectually stimulating than the usual – less about making sure he knew what he was supposed to do and more actual puzzles, things that had really tripped people up.

Nie Huaisang tried at first to keep his answers short, tried to pretend to be more stoic and stand-offish the way the famous Chifeng-zun ought to be, except when he did everyone just smiled at him the way they always had when he’d been the Head-shaker – a little indulgent, a little pitying, a little “well he’s trying his best” – and after a while Nie Huaisang started remembering things he’d long ago forgotten.

Things like how his brother was actually kind of a mess sometimes, emotionally speaking – he was the sort of person who got weepy over dramatic literature – and how he’d never quite gotten the hang of people, how he valued his friends like gold and held grudges way too long and promoted people just because they seemed decent; how he sometimes spent his entire money pouch and more on buying Nie Huaisang stupid trinkets because it seemed to make him happy, even borrowing money from their escort, which would always be doubled over laughing at how their fearsome sect leader couldn’t bring himself to say no.

Like how Nie Huaisang’s sect was his family, aunts and uncles and brothers and sisters, whether born in or adopted or just part of the sect. The good type of family – not always the closest, not always your friends, not always even people you really liked, but still all predisposed to take your side in a fight if it came down to it.

These were the people who supported him and stood behind him – even when he was the Head-shaker.

He’d almost forgotten.

And so, despite himself, Nie Huaisang softened a bit. He stopped trying to respond to everything with a grunt or a huff, started asking about people’s families, making suggestions, telling them they’d done a good job.

“Glad you’re out of your mood,” Nie Yongbiao, who’d been quietly trailing him, finally commented, and Nie Huaisang blinked owlishly at him. “What kicked it off this time? You usually only get that closed-mouth after having to host guests.”

And that was true, wasn’t it? It had been such a long time, and after so much trauma, that Nie Huaisang had forgotten how his brother used to shut down whenever there was a discussion conference or an important meeting – how it took him longer and longer to get better on the other side as the qi deviation drew nearer, his meridians filling with Jin Guangyao’s spiritual poison. By the end, he had barely ever been open and free, barely seemed to remember how to drop his guard and relax, to act like a regular person with a sense of humor again, be the person Nie Huaisang knew his brother to be.

But that was then, and this was now - war had been good for Nie Mingjue, in a strange way. Here in the camps there was a lessened expectation of etiquette, a great appreciation of strength, and his brother was more free to be himself, straightforward and blunt as the off side of a saber.

(Nie Mingjue had tried so hard to be a good brother to Jin Guangyao, Nie Huaisang abruptly remembered, but he’d shut down after every visit, worse than ever before. His heart had known the truth, even if he had allowed himself to be convinced by Lan Xichen and Nie Huaisang to keep giving Jin Guangyao second chance after second chance. He should never have listened to them.)

“Argument with Huaisang,” he said, a safe answer, and Nie Yongbiao nodded wisely.

“Can you say what it was about?” he asked, rather unexpectedly – Nie Yongbiao wasn’t exactly talkative, and no one ever pried about their family affairs. Catching Nie Huaisang’s surprised look, he shrugged. “He’s obviously very upset.”

“He is?”

“He’s at the training field,” Nie Yongbiao stressed, and Nie Huaisang had to choke down a hysterical laugh. Of course Nie Yongbiao would think that something must have gone horribly wrong to get “Nie Huaisang” to go willingly to train.

Nor was Nie Yongbiao the only one, for that matter: when Nie Huaisang arrived at the training field they’d set up in the middle of the camp, he saw an entire crowd of Nie sect disciples milling around at the edge of the field, bearing a suspicious resemblance to a flock of over-anxious quail.

He reached up to his face, pretending to want to pinch the bridge of his nose but actually to smother a smile, and luckily he had regained control of his features by the time he reached the edge of the small sea of disciples because they immediately all turned to him with relieved expressions, their cries of “Sect Leader! Sect Leader!” ringing in his ears like the coos of his pet birds.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, and immediately received the full story: Nie Huaisang had come to the field looking upset – one person insisted there had been tears in his eyes – and had set himself up against a practice dummy, and he hadn’t stopped whacking at it ever since.

Clearly, the world was ending.

“We had an argument earlier,” Nie Huaisang admitted, and managed, barely, not to laugh at how they all looked at him with disapproving eyes. “I’ll talk with him.”

Approving nods all around, although they didn’t disperse.

“Sect Leader,” one of the older generation said, very hesitantly. “If it’s about – the clan matter – if there’s anything we can do to help –”

Nie Huaisang shook his head, feeling touched. When it really had been him, his brother had kept the specifics of it secret – the tombs, the inevitability, the deterioration he was so avidly trying to put off – until it was too late, and he’d had to learn about it the hard way; it was nice, though, that they apparently all worried so much on his behalf about it.

“Thank you,” he said, and meant it. “But it’s a different issue.”

Namely, the issue was that the person doing the training wasn’t Nie Huaisang at all, he thought, but when the crowd finally started breaking apart, people going back to their assigned tasks, and he finally managed to make his way to where his brother was, he was surprised to see that his brother really did appear to be upset.

He wasn’t practicing any of his normal training routines, but rather wielding Aituan in the same way a novice woodcutter would wield an axe: repetitive strikes, made wildly and with too much strength, as if hitting the practice dummy was the only thing that could vent his feelings.

“Uh, ‘Huaisang’?” Nie Huaisang asked, worrying his lip as he came closer. “Are you –”

His brother dropped Aituan to the ground – which, hey! Watch it, that was his saber! – and turned, and Nie Huaisang had only a moment to see his glassy eyes before his brother threw himself forward, wrapping his arms around him and holding him tight.

Nie Huaisang automatically responded, wrapping his arms back around and holding Nie Mingjue close – it was nice, he thought, to finally have the reach he’d always felt he should have, big and tall and enveloping in its warm the way his brother had been for him.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, his voice low enough not to carry. “Did something happen…?”

“No,” Nie Mingjue said, but his lips were pressed together to keep them from trembling. Nie Huaisang’s body had always been free with his emotions, much to his annoyance; he’d learned to cultivate it into a disguise, but he hadn’t really liked it. Tears had never been a relief for him the way they’d been for his brother. “No, it’s nothing.”

“It’s obviously not nothing,” Nie Huaisang said firmly, and carted him off back to his tent. Being as worried as he was, he did his best not to be too smug about finally being the one who was strong enough to pick his brother up, rather than the other way around – not that he needed to, what with his brother following docilely along with him – but there was, perhaps, a little bit of smugness. “Okay, we’re back, silencing talismans are back up because we apparently have the nosiest disciples. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s nothing, really…”

“Da-ge.”

“I left you alone,” his brother blurted out, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. “For twenty years. Whatever I did, however I got murdered – some moment of carelessness – it doesn’t matter. I failed you.”

Oh, no. No, no, no–

“No,” he said out loud. “No, da-ge, you were tricked – it wasn’t – it wasn’t your fault.”

“I always said I would hold up the sky for you,” Nie Mingjue said bitterly. “And instead I left you with the same inheritance that I received. I never wanted that for you, Huaisang. Never.”

“Da-ge,” Nie Huaisang said helplessly. “Da-ge, you don’t understand. You were trying. You wanted – you were doing everything you could. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t fail me. I was the one who failed you. I’ve always failed you –”

“Never!”

“I’m lazy, I’m selfish, I’m good-for-nothing, a head-shaker –”

“So what?” his brother said, glaring up at him. His eyes were red, but with tears, not qi deviation. “Even if it’s true, which it isn’t, because no head-shaker could have avenged me, could have found a way to come back, could have become the Nie sect leader and kept it for two decades, even if it’s true – so what? As long as you’re safe, I don’t care. As long as you have a way to defend yourself, and you so obviously must have, then nothing else matters. Nothing has ever mattered but your happiness.”

“And yours,” Nie Huaisang shot back. “You have the right to a life too, da-ge! You – you should have had my support. You should have been able to share your burdens, I should have helped you instead of anchored you down –”

“Huaisang –”

Nie Huaisang pulled him in tight again. “It’ll be different, this time,” he promised, his voice rough. “I’m older than you ever go the chance to be, da-ge. This time, I can help you with the things you’re not good at – I can do the politics, the people. We can bear the weight of the sect together.”

He felt a whisper in the back of his mind that was strange and yet familiar, approving. Baxia, he realized. Baxia, approving of him; Baxia, who would let him wield her, and he sensed her confidence that no one would get past her iron guard, together protecting his brother in both body and soul.

“All right,” his brother said. “Together. You and me – and the others.”

“Others?”

“After so many years, you must know who’s trustworthy,” Nie Mingjue pointed out. Already back to being practical, even if he was wiping his eyes. “If we tell those people, they can help us keep up the impression that I’m you and you’re me for as long as we need it.”

Nie Huaisang was nodding along, because that made sense, only then his brother said the last part and it was like a sunrise had opened up in his head, the way terrible and wonderful ideas always did.

“Da-ge,” he said, tasting the words in his mouth. “Da-ge, how do you like my body?”

His brother blinked up at him. “It’s fine, I guess? You’re actually in pretty decent shape, better than I thought, and your cultivation is – well, you could do a bit more with that, honestly, but it’s not uncomfortable or anything. Why?”

Nie Huaisang smiled. He’d always been remarkably resistant to their family’s cultivation curse, and not only, as he’d pretended to Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji all those years ago, because he didn’t practice - it was his temper, or lack thereof, that softened the saber spirit’s effects on him.

Even if his body’s cultivation increased, he was far enough behind the curve, with his mediocre talent, that it would take decades for him to reach the level that it would be dangerous to him, while his brother’s prodigious talent, coupled with his inheritance of the family temper, made him even more likely to succumb – it was that prediction which had worried him so much that he had sought out treatment even before it had become a serious problem, the same worries that had driven him into Jin Guangyao’s trap.

What do you think? he asked the brand-new whisper in his mind. Aituan would probably bitch and moan about having to actually do things, but he’d secretly enjoy getting a bit more evil-killing in; the question was Baxia. What would she think?

A purr of agreement.

“I was just thinking,” Nie Huaisang said. “Chronologically speaking, I’m older than you are. I ran the sect for years – it might be hard to let go of that habit. How about we just…stay as we are, for now?”

Nie Mingjue frowned. “Baxia –”

“I’ll use her in public, and Aituan in private,” Nie Huaisang interrupted. He’d known that would be his brother’s first concern. “And you’ll do the opposite. And when we’re settled enough, we’ll come up with some excuse to switch.”

His brother hesitated. “But…you don’t like doing things. Responsibility. That sort of thing.”

“I got over it,” Nie Huaisang assured him. “Trust me, I have a whole system – I’ll implement it once the Sunshot Campaign is done; you’ll be amazed at how much easier it makes things, and then all the things that are left over are the stuff I actually enjoy. And this way, you could…I…”

He swallowed, and put his hands on his brother’s shoulders. He didn’t want to manipulate his brother into something like this – he didn’t want to manipulate his brother at all. His brother deserved the truth and honesty he had always freely given the world, and so Nie Huaisang could only offer up the unvarnished truth.

“I want to do this for you, da-ge,” he said. “I want you to have the life you should have had. I want you to have hobbies again, to make friends, real friends that will put you first. I want you to have fun with them without thinking of how people might think about it…please, da-ge. I came back here to keep you alive, but I want more than that. I want to see you live.”

“Okay,” his brother said, and he was choking back tears again. “We’ll – we’ll discuss it later, but I’ll think about it. Okay.”

“Good,” Nie Huaisang said. “Now catch me up on the tactics we’re planning on using in tomorrow’s battle, and I’ll let you know everything I know about what happens in the future…oh, and one more thing.”

“Oh?”

Nie Huaisang’s hand dropped to the table, parallel to Baxia; he could hear her purr in his mind whistling like the rumble of thunder. He smiled.

“Can you tell me where Meng Yao is?”

#mdzs #nie huaisang #nie mingjue #my fic #my fics #Anonymous

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mypalbuck · 3 years

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DÉJÀ VU— P. MAXIMOFF

↳ in which forgetting pietro was something you could never do.

—inspired by Olivia Rodrigo’s song déjà vu

pairing: pietro Maximoff x reader

warnings: character death (Pietro), angst, depression, grief

word count: 1k

a/n: I edited this myself so please lmk if there are any errors I’ve missed 🥺

When you love someone— the world becomes brighter, more full of love. For a moment there you feel as if you are floating.

Everywhere you go, everything you do is linked to a memory you share with that person. They are inexplicably the morning dew on your car— a reminder of the tears shed on their shoulder as they comforted you. The wind blowing through your hair on a cool autumn day as you run through a park together. A star shining brightly in the sky like the night of sneaking glances and love confessions.

One day they’re there and the next they’re not.

When Pietro died, you swear you lost a piece of you that day. The memories of him slowly began to fade until it was hard to picture his face at night as you laid in bed praying to every single star in the universe to bring your love back to you. Instead your mind replayed the horrid events as you clutched your lover to your chest and watched the sparkle you so adored fade from his eyes.

Nothing would ever compare to the immeasurable pain and heartache you felt that day.

You tried to move on, you acted as though everything was fine and for a while your friends believed you. You busied yourself with missions, conferences, anything to take your mind off of your loss but it got to a point where your brain was working overtime and you just broke.

But this time, unlike the past Pietro wasn’t there to hold you as you cried or soothe you with a Sokovian lullaby his mother used to sing to him and Wanda when they were younger. He always put your mind at ease and without him there you felt yourself spiraling.

Looking out of your bedroom window you saw droplets of water hit before it started pouring. Unwrapping yourself from your blankets, you made your way out of the Avengers headquarters and onto the grass area where you laid down and let the rain pour on you.

The first time you properly spoke to Pietro it was a rainy night, you stood on the side of the road trying to hail a cab but alas no cab stopped for you. You had been on an undercover mission and didn’t expect for it to rain. But Pietro your knight in shining sneakers came to your rescue and whisked you home.

From that moment on you were inseparable.

You didn’t question his powers or his sisters. It was what made them who they are. It’s what made him your Pietro and you wouldn’t change anything for the world. The love he gave you when you were together was unlike anything you would ever experience again. He was your person, he would forever be your person.

Everywhere you go you are still reminded of your darling Pietro. Sometimes when you’re with Wanda you see little bits of him in his sister and for a moment you don’t know whether to laugh or cry. You could never blame her though, you weren’t the only one shaken by his death.

Laying in the rain helped you to feel less alone as you cried. Sensing the presence of another person you opened your eyes to see Wanda smiling at you sadly before laying down next to you. Although you felt truly alone without Pietro, you weren’t. Wanda was always there to cry with you. You felt terrible for acting the way you were, he was her blood. But she never made you feel bad for it, instead she would always pull you into a hug and whisper halfheartedly that Pietro wasn't worth smeared mascara. You both knew this was a lie, he was worth every tear shed.

You decided that the universe was simply rooting against you both and you were reminded of that every time you went on a mission. Pietro just seemed to make everything go smoother, he was your own guardian angel and in the end he risked his life saving the people he loved. You couldn’t even begin to think of a way you could thank him. It’s just what he seemed to do best, look out for you.

Fast forward a year later, things have gotten a bit better. You’re sitting there at this fancy restaurant that costs way more than you earn and for the first time in a long time you’re on a date with a guy who makes you laugh, but not like how Pietro used to. At the end of the night you would bid your date farewell, dodging their advances and not calling them back. There was nothing that could compare to the spark you and Pietro shared.

You wondered if the roles were reversed, if Pietro were alive and you weren’t, would he see you everywhere he went? Would he get déjà vu from walking down a street you both used to? Would the memories of you haunt him and force him to go days without sleep? Would he remember your face, your laugh? Or would you be a faded memory? Would he find someone new to fill the hole you left in his heart?

Some days thinking about Pietro hurts too much, so you would try to forget him.

Drown your sorrows in alcohol and stay locked in your room trying to disassociate with the world. For a moment it would work, but then you swear you could still smell the scent of his cologne in your bedsheets and no matter how many times you washed them it was still there.

A part of you would laugh and mutter something about Pietro “marking his territory even in the afterlife”. But the other part of you would clutch the sheets in the laundry room and sob until Wanda found you, helping you to her room where she used her powers to ease you into a peaceful sleep. Despite all her efforts, Pietro would still appear in your dreams and you would wake up gasping for air and reaching out for the arms of a person who no longer was there.

No matter what you or anyone else did. Your mind would be in a constant state of déjà vu, for Pietro was a love you would never let your mind forget.

#I miss him sm :(#pietro maximoff fanfic #pietro Maximoff #pietro maximoff angst #pietro maximoff imagine #pietro maximoff x reader

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inmegsmind · 3 years

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‘Falling’ - Regulus Black x Original Female Character (Part 6)

Description: Sometimes the most unexpected friendships become the ones that mean the most. This was true for Lilia Arianwen Llewellyn and Regulus Black. A pureblood Slytherin from a noble family and a half-blood Gryffindor who’s wizard father fell for a muggle. After maintaining a secret friendship from their third year which began to fade at the end of their fifth year, the pairs return to Hogwarts for their penultimate year will change their lives forever.

Warnings: Swearing, casual talk surrounding sex, alcohol consumption.

It became harder and harder to concentrate as the weeks passed since my last conversation with Regulus. He had gone from hating me and giving me constant glares to apparently missing me yet not even sneaking a glimpse at me in a matter of weeks. I tried my best to focus on my school work and throw myself into my apparition classes as well as attending Order meetings but my mind always wandered back to him. The girls, bless them, had been brilliant. Always trying to keep my spirits high and not letting me spend too much time alone to be sad.

Halloween had fallen on a Saturday this year which caused such a buzz as it was also a Quidditch day, even I found it hard to be sad this morning. Today was Slytherin vs Hufflepuff meaning us Gryffindors and Ravenclaws could enjoy the match and not watch it through gaps in our fingers. There would be our annual Halloween party later this evening too, which was always something to be excited about. It wasn’t a tradition to dress up in Hogwarts like the muggle world which I thought was a let down because I loved dressing up as a kid but I had a cute outfit so I suppose it wasn’t all bad.

As I sat in the great hall, eating breakfast surrounded by my friends, the marauders and other members of the order, I couldn’t help but notice as Regulus stood talking to the Hufflepuff team captain. I wasn’t too sure of his name as I don’t think we’d ever even spoken. As if James had read my mind he quickly blurted out ‘I wonder what they’re talking about’, causing everyone else to turn and see what he meant. ‘Probably a pre-match argument’ Clara suggested before tucking into another spoonful of porridge. ‘Nahh it looks too civilised for that’ James responded craning his neck as if it would make him hear better. We all watched as the pair shook hands and headed off to different tables, the Hufflepuff captain crossing the hall to come straight towards us. Everyone shamelessly followed him with their eyes, our nosey nature taking over.

‘Morning’ the Hufflepuff greeted and everyone responded their own greeting, eager to know the intention of his interaction. ‘I just had a word with Regulus and we thought it might be fun if instead of all having separate parties in our respective common rooms, it might be fun this year to all join together and throw a Halloween party in the Room of Requirement’ he announced to the group with a smile on his face. A few let our squeals of excitement whilst others exchanged unsure glances. ‘So you guys in?’ The Hufflepuff asked again following the silence.

‘That depends, are the Slytherins going to be complete and utter twats like usual? Sirius pipped up whilst eyeing up Regulus who I guessed was proposing the same to the Ravenclaws. ‘He just told me they’re prepared to drop all feuds for one night of fun’ he informed us. The marauders grouped together and began whispering amongst each other and I guess the rest of us accepted that as James was head boy and the Marauders were so popular amongst our house that we would leave the decision up to them. After a few seconds of deliberation they turned back to the eagerly awaiting boy and James announced ‘we’re in’.

News of the joint house party had only intensified the already bouncing atmosphere amongst the students of Hogwarts. Making our way down to the Quidditch pitch all I could hear were whispers of excitement between friends about what to wear or who they were hoping to hook up with, my own friends included. The Marauders had so very kindly offered to provide the alcohol for the evening with other houses also offering to help decorate or provide music. It felt good to have a sense of unity amongst all for houses. If there was something teenagers could group together for it was definitely a party.

As we neared the entrance to the stands I noticed a small sea of green making its way over to the changing rooms entrance. Regulus and I managed to spot each other at the same time and I couldn’t help but send him a small smile which I was shocked to see him return. Considering how sad I’d been since our last conversation and how much I missed the friendship that we had I decided it wouldn’t hurt to see if he was willing to start being nice to each other again after weeks of no interaction. I mouthed ‘good luck’ to him, hoping he would be able to read my lips and I was pleasantly surprised when he smiled and mouthed back a ‘thanks’. Turning my head forward with a stupid grin on my face I jumped as I heard Mollie whisper in my ear ‘I saw that missy’ and I couldn’t help but laugh and roll my eyes as I whispered a ‘shut up’ back.

Since joining the Order we had migrated from our small group of four into a much larger group of Gryffindors. This included me and my three girls, obviously, the Marauders, again obviously, Lily, Marlene and Dorcas then also Frank Longbottom and Alice Fortescue. Despite how nice it was to get closer to the older Gryffindors and form such a strong bond, it made me sad that they would not be here with us next year. Taking up the remaining space in our chosen stand we waited in anticipation for the match to win.

Much to my fathers dismay, Quidditch was not my strong point. He had been a beater for Gryffindor back in his day and was convinced I would be following in his footsteps. Perhaps not as a beater but at least on the team. However, I had opted for observing rather than playing. Despite watching matches for the past 5 years I still found it confusing and hard to watch when it became to aggressive or violent. ‘So who do we want to win?’ Clara rolled her eyes at my question before shouting over the rowdy crowd in response ‘This games a tough one because obviously we despise Slytherin so if Hufflepuff beat them today that means they don’t have a chance at the Quidditch cup but if Slytherin win, if we beat Ravenclaw on our next game, which is highly likely, that means that we’ll face them in the final and James really wants to play them and win against him in the final for his last year as Captain’. I nodded my head to show I understood Clara’s explanation before turning my attention back to the pitch ready for the game to begin.

The game had been tense from the second it began. Both teams not only thinking of the Quidditch cup but about the bragging rights they would get at the party tonight. I thought that because Gryffindor wasn’t playing I would find watching less stressful but I had been very wrong. I couldn’t stop watching Regulus as he roamed the pitch in search of the golden snitch. I’d had to stop myself from yelping at least four times when he had close runs ins with a bludger.

As it sat, Hufflepuff had 110 points where as Slytherin had 90 and it was just a waiting game for one of the seekers to catch the snitch. Even from the stands you could see how exhausted each player was. Out of nowhere both seekers darted across the sky and the crowd fell silent as they watched both players go head to head. I raised my hand to cover my mouth in anticipation as my eyes remained glued to the match in front of me. The chase for the snitch went on for so long that even the other players has stopped playing to watch and see who would be the first to grab it. Out of nowhere both players dived down making it harder to see who would get it then out of nowhere the commentators voice boomed ‘AND FINALLY HE’S DONE IT, REGULUS BLACK HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH. 150 POINTS TO SLYTHERIN MAKING THEM TODAYS WINNERS’.

Even the Gryffindors erupted into cheers at this announcement given that both teams had played such an entertaining game. James looked ecstatic as the prospect of playing Slytherin in yet another Quidditch final and I could see him already discussing strategies with Clara and Marlene as we made our way out of the stands. My eyes couldn’t help but scan the mass of students in hope of clatching another glance of Regulus, as if watching him playing Quidditch for however long wasn’t enough. Fuck sake why am I like this, I cursed myself.

Giving up on my search for Regulus I decided to join in on conversation with the others, linking arms with Ruby as we climbed up towards the castle. ‘You looking forward to tonight?’ She cheerfully asked me and I gave her an enthusiastic nod. ‘I’m in the mood to get absolutely bladdered tonight’ Mollie chimed in and I was quick to reply with ‘I second that one Molls’ before Clara sarcastically added ‘Yay, I can’t wait to be putting you two to bed later’. ‘Maybe only one of them’ Sirius cut in with a wink as he wrapped his arm around Mollie who’s face turned a shade of scarlet. His cheeky comment erupted a roar of cheers and wolf whistles from the group as he continued to whisper something into her ear causing her to turn even redder which I thought would have been impossible.

‘Did you hear Sirius earlier?’ Mollie squealed as the four of us flooded into our dormitory following dinner. ‘I need to pick the cutest matching set for tonight’ She declared before throwing herself at her trunk as I collapsed onto my bed.

‘I have some wine I stole off my parents somewhere in my trunk, shall we drink it before we go?’ Ruby suggested and I hummed my approval. ‘Ew no I hate win’ Clara complained and I rolled my eyes before grabbing my pillow and launching it over at her whilst shouting ‘BOOORINGGG’. The other girls laughed and I heard Clara mutter under her breath before launching the pillow back at me, it smashing into the back of my head causing me to yelp. ‘Right no throwing things please, I don’t want to spill this wine’ Ruby reprimanded us.

‘Opinions please, are we thinking the black or the pink?’ Mollie asked whilst laying out two sets of lingerie onto her bed. The three of us made our way over inspecting both pairs silently. In chorus we all answered ‘Black’ and Mollie squealed before responding ‘that’s exactly what I thought too’.

After handing us a glass of wine each, Ruby made sure to put one of her vinyl's on to further lift out spirits and get us in the mood whilst we got ready. My body tingled with a mixture and excitement as I applied my make up. I found myself really taking my time to get ready today and I knew it was in hope of catching Regulus’s attention. It felt so pathetic to me, to have a crush on someone and be secretly hoping for the smallest sign of their approval.

‘Do you think you’ll speak to Regulus tonight Lils? Seeing as all houses are calling a truce for the night’ Clara asked, peering at me through the reflection of her mirror. I shrugged my shoulders ‘Who knows? I won’t be going up to him though, I’ll wait and see if he comes to me’ ‘Thatss my girl’ Mollie cheered as I took a large sip of the wine, grimacing as it went down my throat.

‘Are you sure you like this dress?’ I asked as I inspected myself in the mirror for the fiftieth time. Clara groaned ‘Yes, you look unbelievably fit now hurry and get your shoes on’ she commanded as she gave me a tap on the bum. I took one more look at myself in the mirror. I’d picked out a short, black satin dress, probably a bit too short if you were to ask my parents. It was plain and simple from the front with two spaghetti straps holding it up as the front fell slightly to expose my cleavage. The back of the dress was low cut with a tie up detail which Ruby had very kindly done up for me. I slipped on my doc martens and confirmed to the girls that I was ready. ‘Five more minutes and I’ll be ready’ Mollie called out and Clara let out an even louder groan.

‘Stop groaning Clara, she’s planning on getting some tonight let her get ready in peace’ I defended Mollie earning a middle finger from Clara. ‘If she takes any longer I’ll have sobered up from the wine’ ‘Have a shot of fire whiskey then’ Ruby suggested passing her the bottle which she gladly accepted. The bottle was passed around the group another two times before Mollie finally announced she was ready.

‘Right ladies, lets go’

(tag list - @i-padfootblack-things)

#regulus black fanfiction #regulus black #regulus black x female reader #regulus x reader #harry potter #hogwarts #marauders #marauders era #marauders fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction

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bunnykawa · 4 years

Text

don’t ignore me (kageyama x f. reader)

summary: Kageyama and you were together for a long time, but he became too much for you. You thought breaking up with him was enough to get away. Turns out you were wrong.

A/N: hi. idk what this is i got bored and wanted to try writing something. anyway this is my first time posting so sorry if it’s shit ahaha. i’m illiterate oops

warnings: 18+, yandere-ish vibes, abuse, noncon/dubcon/rape, choking, brief mentions of stalking, restraints, slight manipulation, kageyama is just mean and abusive sorry

You really missed the comfort of the bed sheets in your new home.

Kageyama paced silently across the floor of your formerly shared bedroom. It was late at night. He was getting restless as he constantly glanced at you sitting in silence on the bed. Your eyes were visibly zoned out, your gaze fixed on an empty corner in the room.

The desire to knock his teeth out and run back home was growing stronger, but you knew your strength was nothing compared to his and it was basically impossible with your situation right now.

"(Y/N)," he finally spoke. His voice strained itself trying to catch your attention. You stayed still, stuck in the same position you've been in for the past few hours with your legs hanging off the bed. You remembered when you used to love the way he said your name, but that was before he changed. You felt him approach you, causing you to flinch so terribly. He's always been bigger and stronger than you. It was a constant reminder back then, and it's a painful reminder by the zip tie cutting into your wrists that were forcibly restraining your arms behind your back, courtesy of Kageyama.

"(Y/N), please talk to me," he begged.

You don't bother to respond.

When you had first met Kageyama, he was completely different. Although a little awkward and somewhat antisocial when it came to you, you found it quite endearing. Most days were spent spectating his volleyball practices and matches after school and arguing on what drink is the best to buy from the vending machine.He would even walk you home. Although you never ever told him your address, he somehow led the way to your house the first time he walked you home.

You found yourself being more and more attracted to the dark-haired volleyball boy as time went on. All throughout high school, you would have said you were in love with him.

Then you two started officially dating.

You thought he was a little overprotective. He seemed to have a terrible temper. He just seemed...entirely different. The once aloof boy suddenly became super clingy. You were together everyday and when you weren't, he was constantly texting you or calling you. When he was angry, it felt like the whole world would end because somehow it was never his fault. Sometimes he became violent with you just to hold you when you cried. Your friends stopped talking to you all of a sudden. You lost contact with your family because Kageyama believed that they would take you away from him. He would get jealous of anyone and everyone that tried to get close to you. You only needed him.

"Look at me."

So, you broke up with him. You finally felt free after his presence overwhelmed your senses for years. You could finally breathe. Kageyama would no longer be there to pester you or scare you. You could finally make friends and go out as you pleased!

Except he kept pestering you. The calls and texts never stopped. The new friends you would make would suddenly start avoiding you, too. Sometimes you would even dream about his hands around your neck. You weren't sure if you were becoming paranoid or not, but you always felt like he was watching you from afar. One thing about Kageyama that really stuck out to you was that he absolutely hated being ignored.

"I brought you here so you would stop fucking ignoring me!"

You yelped in fear as he forced your body down on the bed with his clammy hands wrapped around your neck. You were forced to stare into his dark blue eyes that sent a chill down your spine, knocking you out of your thoughts. You shift uncomfortably because now you were squishing your hands behind your back. He was holding in his anger for too long. The frustration of not knowing what you were doing at all times of the day hurt him in a way he never thought was possible.

Your legs were spread open with his torso between them. If your hands were free, you know for sure you'd be grabbing at his iron grip for release.

"Don't ignore me! I just want you to speak to me again, (Y/N)," he hissed, "I want to hear you say you love me again."

But you don't love him. The words flashed in your mind over and over again. I don't love you anymore. You pressed your quivering lips together to silence yourself, staring up at him with wide and tearful eyes only to avert your gaze to somewhere else. The longer you drew out the silence, the more he felt his blood boiling. You need to love me, he screamed on the inside. We were meant to be together!

"Fucking pay attention to me, dammit!" he yelled, squeezing your throat a little tighter. You begin to panic. You try to kick him but your legs are restrained by his stronger ones. You just wanted to be somewhere far away. You left him for a reason, but he just dragged you back to your old apartment against your will.

And Kageyama couldn't help the fact that his dick hardened against your luscious thighs at the sight of your struggle.

Then he kisses you. Hard and heavy. The grip on your throat was weakened enough to let you gasp silently for air. Both of your lips forcefully molded together because of how he held onto you. No matter how much you don't want to kiss him, you have no choice. He finally lets go of your throat, only to grip harshly onto your thighs. You pull away from the kiss to inhale a deep breath that you desperately needed. You sniffled away your snot as you began to cry.

"Why the hell did you even bring me here?" you blubbered through your tears.

“Because we’re not finished! You weren’t supposed to fucking leave me,” he growled through clenched teeth. Kageyama looked down at your crying face in disdain, but also with a new fire igniting behind his eyes as well as in his groin. He hated seeing you cry, but he also loved seeing you like this. The battle in his head of whether or not he should comfort you is fully overtaken by the fact that he was so upset because of you leaving him.

He ignores your cries as he lifts up the ends of the oversized shirt you wore with one of his hands. He smiled a little at your usual pajamas; a big shirt and cotton panties. Just like how you used to sleep with him.

You shift uncomfortably at the small smile on his face. “There’s nothing to finish. We’re over with. You need to understand that!”

"You've been ignoring me," he mutters, “How can I understand if you won’t even reply to any of my messages or calls?” You felt so exposed and vulnerable. Whatever he wanted to do, he could do it to you.

“You already know why I left." Your voice was so hoarse. "I have a reason for everything." He grabbed onto your throat again with one hand while the other hand sneaked below your vision to remove your panties, exposing your cunt to the cold air of the room. The shiver that moves throughout you makes your face hot with embarrassment.

"Don't you know how much I love you?" His question almost distracts you from the way his two fingers suddenly started dancing on your clit dangerously.

"Do you even care at all? I haven't stopped thinking about you ever since you left me here alone," he says with a quiver in his tone. It hurt entering the apartment to find your things missing and having to sleep alone that first night.

He rubbed over your slit, hoping to elicit a physical reaction out of you. He missed how soft your skin felt beneath him. Especially how you shook beneath him just from his small touches. He dips his fingers into your entrance. Although you weren't as wet as he wanted, he didn't hesitate to push them further into you.

"Kageyama," you gasped in horror. You cringed when he started to move his fingers in and out of you. You were angry, scared, upset, and unbelievably uncomfortable, but you didn't have the strength to stop him from assaulting your insides when your hands were stuck behind your back. You cried again, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

He kisses you again. "It's okay, baby," he whispers against your lips, "It'll feel good. I promise."

"I don't want to."

"You don't know that." His fingers move in a way that makes your whole body crumble beneath him. He always knew how to please you. Your hips begin to wiggle and you hate how much it starts to feel good. You let out a moan that makes him smile. It makes you feel guilty for even seeming like you enjoy his palm crashing down on your clit carelessly and his fingers filling you up roughly when he's just forcing your body to react. "You don't know what you want. If you're not with me, then who will take care of you like I do?"

"I-I..." you stutter. Was he right? Who was going to take care of you? It has even been a struggle since you left him, but no. It was always suffocating being with him. Even feeling his long fingers inside you wasn't enough to distract you.

He removes his hand from your throat just to pull his own pants down. His hard length springs out and hits your thigh. "You're so wet already, too," he hums in satisfaction, "I'm here, baby. It's okay. Me and you are forever." You writhe from beneath him, feeling as if you were about to explode. You desperately try to escape his fingers by jerking away, but he catches you every single time.

As if to piss you off even further, he says, "I'm not mad at you. It's okay now." As if you were the problem in the first place.

"No," you spit at him, "You're being fucking crazy. It's not my fault." It was impossible to see him clearly through your tears. He positions his cock behind his fingers that were inside you. His gaze was so sharp as he stared down at you. He loves you yet you couldn't understand how he only expressed his love this way.

He removes his fingers and places himself at your entrance. The view of your tear-stained cheeks and trembling thighs were so beautiful to him. He moves your legs up against your chest so he can see more of you.

"Let me go!" you scream. Something connects with your cheek. Then your head whips to the side and your head starts pounding. One side of your face swiftly becomes hot with pain. The sharp smacking noise echoes around the room from how hard Kageyama slapped you.

"Shhh, if you struggle then it'll hurt more. I'm trying to show you how much I love you."

And before you know it, he's filling up your cunt with his thick cock in one swift thrust. Another scream erupts from your bruised throat as he begins to thrust into you harshly. He grabs the sides of your face so you're forced to lock eyes with him. You feel him slide in and out of you, leaving a burning feeling in your walls. Gasps are forced out of your mouth from the force of his thrusts.

You wish you were somewhere else. Or someone else. Just not in this situation where Kageyama would be in full control of what could happen to you.

But you were so warm and your insides were so pink that he couldn't stop himself anymore. So pretty, he thought. How could he allow anyone else to handle you like this? Of course, you looked the best when you were only underneath him.

Kageyama's face is contorted in absolute pleasure. He's always wanted full control of you ever since he first met you. Seeing you with your pussy unwillingly spread open from his hard cock and your legs pressed against your chest so deliciously makes him feel so powerful. This is how it should always be. There's no way you'll leave him now. Not when he's splitting you open raw.

"Baby, you're okay," he cooed in a gentle voice, although it's useless to even attempt to comfort you. "You like it, don't you?"

Nothing left your lips except for gasps and throaty moans. The way he spoke to you made your chest hurt, but it was also leaving a burning feeling in your lower abdomen that messed with your head. You couldn't believe yourself. Why does it feel so good? Why is the one man that you hate the most fucking you in the most appetizing way? He lets go of your face to hold onto the bottoms of your thighs.

"Answer me," he demands. You began to cry out from the pain and pleasure of his forceful fucking. He's doing this because he loves you? Because he's the only one you'll ever need? He presses his forehead against yours.

"You love it when I fuck you like this, right?" he whispers gently against your lips. For a second, your focus entirely shifts to the feeling of him filling you up so roughly.

You were confused, but you couldn't stop your hips from trying so desperately to meet his with every thrust he made into your wet core.

"Kageyama," you tried to plead. You couldn't stop yourself from moaning out his name in bliss as he continued to move against you. It was impossible to stop the pleasure from building up inside of your core. You weren't even sure if you wanted him to stop anymore. That's what hurt you even more. Do you even know yourself?

"Tell me." He begins to rub your clit in desperate circles, making you arch your back in response. You feel your eyes roll to the back of your head as the pleasure engulfs you. In the back of your mind, you're screaming no. The man you were trying to escape is making you feel good. He was making you feel dirty. So fucking dirty.

But you didn't even realize that you weren't crying from the pain anymore. You even ignored the soreness in your wrists from the zip ties. You were a moaning mess beneath Kageyama's athletic build. He grinned as your body responded wildly to him. It felt like he was claiming you as his again.

It was rewarding seeing you beneath him again.

"Mine," he hissed in pleasure, "You're all mine." He was in a euphoric state from the thought of you even being in the same room as him and responding to him. But the fact that he was actually forcing his hard length into your aching wetness right now was the best feeling in the fucking world.

"I missed you so much, (Y/N)." The tightening of your slick cunt around him made him groan.

You were disgusted with yourself. "Please don't stop," you gasp. Kageyama continued to drill into you in happiness. He knows you love how he's abusing your cunt and disrespecting you, but he was also thinking about how he could love you so much more after he made you his again. It makes him even more excited.

He suddenly started thrusting into you harder, the impact of his hips jerking you away from him briefly only to bring you back to him just as quick. A scream erupted from your throat as you went cross-eyed from how Kageyama was beating your pussy raw. He leans down towards you once more.

"Don’t ignore me ever again. Tell me you'll stay with me. Tell me you still love me," he whispers with an evil smile.

I don't love you anymore is what you wish you could say, but with your head clouded with guilty pleasure and your legs shaking from how good it feels when he's tearing you apart from your cunt, the only words you could manage to breathe from between swollen lips were "I still love you."

Kageyama couldn't have been happier.

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markberries · 4 years

Text

what we do in the dark┊draco malfoy

• anon requested: Hey! If you do story requests can I get draco and yn in a secret relationship (yn is also slytherin but muggleborn) and then draco gets tired of hiding, kisses her in public and smut ensues? Thank you in advance love your writing!

• info: having a secret relationship with hogwarts’ troublemaker was difficult, especially when all he wanted was for everyone to know that you were his.

• warnings: cursing, fingering

• genre: fluff, angst if you squint, smut, fem reader

• word count: 2346

• a/n: HOLY CRAP i actually finished a wip!! anyways sorry that i haven’t posted much hp in awhile </333 i hope u guys enjoy!

being a model student was difficult; having the endless stress of keeping your grades above everyone else, the constant studying and time you spent in the library, and most importantly, keeping your relationship with draco malfoy hidden.

it had been 6 months since the day he asked you out, the classic “bad boy” and “nerdy girl” couple, you were surprised by his confession, and he was surprised by your agreement. the secrecy part was a mutual decision, being brought up by you, when someone had told you that hanging around draco was a bad idea.

draco, of course, didn’t mind, for he had a reputation to keep up with his friends, and that is what settled it. you liked it, the sneaking around, the excitement of nearly being caught hiding in the prefect’s bathroom together, it was fun.

in public, you two were rarely seen together. you acted like you didn’t know each other. people never got suspicious; the only thing that could get you two caught was draco’s inability to keep his hands to himself. when guys would hit on you, unbeknownst of the steady relationship you and draco had, it made malfoy’s blood boil.

he would watch them walk up to you confidently, where you would sit in the dining hall, intently writing notes and eating the nicely placed food that lay in front of you. he would watch your eyes look up to the boy, who would politely ask you on a date. you would decline, saying that you were too busy to date.

he would lock eyes with you, you would shrug your shoulders and smile at him, but being cautious of the people surrounding you. the only thing that irritated him was the fact that these boys thought they had a chance with you. they thought that the only reason you wouldn’t date them was because you were merely busy, when the truth was that you were taken. by him.

the reason you liked draco was because he made you feel different, like you were taking risks. people used to call you boring, but draco changed that. he thought of you as unique, he liked you for you, and he had never tried to change you. he was just a sweetheart hidden behind his bad boy facade.

“you looked so pretty today,” he whispered to you, arms engulfed around you as you two curled up in his dorm. usually, you would be worried about someone catching a glimpse of you two, but today, you had decided to skip potions class. it was the second time you had ever skipped a class (the first time was also with draco), and people may perceive that it was his influence on you, but you thought differently.

“we didn’t see each other today,” you laugh, pinching his cheek. he winces slightly, before giving you a soft smile.

“yeah, but i know you looked pretty.”

you raise a brow, “oh? what a flirt you are.”

he buried his head in your shoulder, breathing in deeply to get a whiff of your sweet fruity scent, “only for you,” he says, voice muffled by your grey pajama tee.

“mm,” he pauses, entertwining your hands. “the yule ball is coming up.”

you hum, ruffling his hair and offering him a kind smile. “i know.”

“we could attend it.. together.”

“i know,” you kiss his cheek, his cheeks turning a soft shade of pink, “but everyone is gonna be there..”

there’s an evident frown that forms on draco’s face, his thought process remained unknown to you, and there’s a slight pang of guilt that washes over you, after all, you didn’t expect draco to want to sneak around with you forever.

“right,” he clears his throat, turning away to lay on his back, eyes glued to the ceiling. you bite your lip, sitting up and running a hand through his blonde hair. his eyes then stare back at yours, and you offer a pity smile.

“i’m sorry, let me just get through my finals and then we can tell the others, okay?”

there’s a pause of silence, before draco speaks up again.

“are you ashamed of me?”

your expression softens, lying back down and caressing his face, making him turn to you. there was nothing that could make you ashamed of draco, you just didn’t know if you were ready to face lectures from your parents, knowing well enough about them, for dating someone who constantly torments people of the muggleborn status. you wanted to tell them that he was different, that he was capable of accepting people for who they are.

“no, i could never be ashamed of you, you know that,” you reassure, placing a kiss to the tip of his nose. he smiles, brushing a piece of hair out of your face lovingly.

“i know love,” he admires your face for a brief moment, studying your features, “sometimes i just can’t help myself when i’m around you.”

a giggle escapes your lips, followed by a raise of your brow. a grin creeps it’s way upon your face, as malfoy rolls his eyes at your own silliness.

“you’re so weird,” he comments, enveloping you into his arms.

“draco, people are gonna be wondering where we are in the great hall,” you remind him, as the time for dinner approaches. skipping classes together was already risky, not showing up to dinner would be the frosting on the cake.

“alright alright,” he sighs, getting up and picking up his robe that hung from your desk chair. your heart clenches — in a good way, thinking about how it would be like to tell everyone about your relationship.

there were always pros and cons, as you knew there were a few female students who found draco undeniably attractive, and if they were to find out, you knew that you would always be a topic of conversation, but on the contrary, they wouldn’t try to spark up conversations with him. you knew your parents wouldn’t be happy, but you would be able to openly spend time with him, you’d get to kiss him whenever you wanted, and your parents would eventually get used to your situation.

you were torn between two sides, even if you were to tell everyone, what would be the right occasion to share your story? and when was the right time?

you shake your head, snapping out of your own trance.

“you ready, love?” draco asks.

you smile, looking at him and nodding, “yeah.”

—

“hey y/n,” a voice says to you, causing you to stop drinking your water mid sip as you stare up at the culprit.

“cedric,” you say, placing your glass down with a smile. he looks uneasy, nervous even, as he awkwardly rubs the back of his neck. cedric had been the first hufflepuff to make contact with you, as no one really engaged with slytherins unless it was to start a harmless argument.

it was a year ago, and he had approached you in hogsmeade, your green scarf in hand, that you had lost an hour before. you had accepted it with a simple smile and a “thank you”, wrapping it around your neck again. he made sure to point out how different you were compared to the other slytherins, even saying that you belonged in ravenclaw or hufflepuff. you laughed it off, being proud of your house and who you were.

“is something wrong?” you ask with a tilted head, his cheeks turn a soft pink while they heat up. he clears his throat, finally looking at you in the eyes.

“do you want to maybe.. be my date to the yule ball? of course, you don’t have to say yes, it’s completely up to you.”

you nearly choke on your own saliva, your eyes widening in surprise. you’re at a loss for words, what should you say to let him down softly? that you’re busy?

“she can’t,” a familiar voice calls out to him, and draco takes a seat next to you confidently. you snap your head towards him, and his jaw is clenched, not a single hint of playfulness in his voice.

“oh? do you already have a date y/n?”

you say in a hushed voice, “draco what do you think you’re doing?”

he doesn’t reply, he merely wraps an arm around your shoulders confidently, eyes locked with cedric’s.

“yeah, me,” he says nonchalantly, and this time, it’s your turn to blush, staring down at the ground intensely. everyone at the slytherin table is paying attention to the conversation, quietly talking amongst each other as they stare at the two boys who are glaring at each other.

cedric scoffs at him, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue and looking away from you two for a moment.

“alright then, see you around, y/n.”

without a word, draco harshly tugs you throughout the hallways, towards the prefect’s bathroom. his expression is unreadable as he lets go of your hand when you two finally arrive at the destination.

“what was that about?” you finally exclaim, more shocked/surprised than angry, but draco takes a step towards you with a huff of frustration.

“i did what i had to do,” he replies, staring down at you with hooded eyes. “unless, you wanted to attend the ball with diggory.”

“you know that i would never do that, i love you,” you say softly, and draco takes another step, your bodies almost touching.

“we’ll just have to show diggory that, then,” malfoy then begins attacking your neck with his lips, pressing you up against the wall with a small thud. he sucks harshly, leaving obvious marks on your hot skin. he trails kisses along your jawline, and your hands find his way to his blonde locks, tangling in them as you let out small whines.

he uses one of his hands to snake its way under your shirt, massaging your left breast. his free hand presses against your clothed core, harshly rubbing to get a reaction out of you, and of course, it worked. you were moaning, all whilst draco hummed against your neck.

you grip at the fabric of his robe, panting heavily as you wrapped your legs around his waist. he places both hands on your ass, carrying you to the nearest surface and setting you on it, the marble feeling cold against your body.

“your moans are like music to my ears,” he says, lust dripping off of his tongue. at this point, you didn’t care if anyone walked in. you wanted draco now, and it didn’t seem like draco wanted to stop either as he eagerly lifted your grey sweater vest above your head, pressing his soft lips against your own.

he removes his robe, carelessly tossing it to the ground and loosening his tie. he slips his tongue into your mouth, harshly sucking on your own, and you knew better than to fight for dominance with him. the heat between your thighs continued to grow, a wet patch forming, and you knew your underwear was done for.

you wrap your arms around draco’s neck, deepening the kiss as he unbuttoned your shirt, leaving you in your black bra, skirt, and pantyhose. he broke the kiss, ogling at your breasts.

“take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you tease him, which was definitely the wrong thing to do.

“what a brat,” he grunts, unhooking your bra and exposing your boobs. he then began pinching your right nipple, making you yelp out in surprise and grab his shoulders for balance.

“got anything else to say?” he asks confidently, and you shake your head.

“fuck you’re hot,” malfoy groans, tugging your skirt and tights down. you kick the articles of clothing off, while draco dips a hand into your panties, collecting the gathered wetness and pulling his hand out to admire it.

“all for me?” he smirks, rubbing his fingers together. you quickly nod your head.

“use your words,” he says.

“y-yes, it’s all for you,” you reply in a small, innocent voice, causing malfoy to shove the fingers that were coated in your wetness into your mouth. you suck on them, making him satisfied. he then takes his other hand pushes your underwear to the side, shoving his slender finger into your entrance without warning.

“oh, ah!” you cry out. he takes the hand that was in your mouth out, using it to grip your face.

“look at me while i finger fuck you.”

unlike usual, he doesn’t start slow. he’s already curling his finger inside you, pumping it in and out at a fast pace. he stares at you with the same dark eyes he had earlier, and you bite your lip to prevent yourself from being too loud.

draco adds another finger, the room being filled with the joyous sound of your pleasure. your breath hitches, and you begin to uncontrollably moan.

“god, i could do this all day,” draco groans, the imprint of his boner beginning to look painful. “who makes you feel like this?”

he adds a third finger, making you arch your back in euphoria from the sensation. “it’s you! fuck draco, only you.”

“you’re such a good slut,” he praises, picking up the pace as you clench around his digits. the lewd sounds were so loud that you were surprised that no one had busted you two, but even if someone were to walk in, you don’t think you would’ve stopped.

“cum for me,” he whispers into your ear, pressing his thumb against your clit. you screw your eyes shut, moaning draco’s name as he kisses your neck. you swear you can see stars behind your eyes, exploding in a sense of ecstasy from malfoy’s fingers.

your eyes flutter open, a seemingly never ending chorus of pants leaving your mouth. you smile through it, resting your head on draco’s shoulder.

“that was so hot,” you say.

draco chuckles, bringing his mouth close to your ear, “you thought we were finished?”

you shiver.

maybe some things aren’t meant to be kept as secrets.

#draco #draco imagine #draco fluff #draco smut #draco oneshot #draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy oneshot #harry potter

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olivyh · 3 years

Text

TWST FAMILY HCS PT 3) Scarabia and Pomefiore

Scarabia:

Jamil:

-Mama Viper: She’s on the quieter side, similar to Jamil. She’s a very hardworking woman and incredibly loyal to whoever she gets close to, which extends to Kalim as well. Seeing the two boys grow up together, and considering how I think Kalim didn’t get the most attention growing up (with thirty siblings and counting, plus having his father working all the time) she felt sorry for him and took him in as her own as well. She sometimes feels Jamil’s pain at being stuck in the life of servitude, but is incredibly proud of him for sticking up for himself and doing what she never got to do, even if she scolded him after word got to the household. She can’t put much focus on either of her children, which deeply saddens her, but she looks forward to watching them grow up to be strong, intelligent, and independent. I think she’s a little shorter than Jamil, with the same long black hair that she braids down her back. She has dark brown eyes that almost look black.

-Papa Viper: He’s on the more reserved side as well, but not by choice. He’s very talkative when talking about his experiences, often going into rants where he has to remind himself to not overstep his boundaries. I think Papa Viper and Papa Al-Asim have a similar relationship to Kalim and Jamil pre-overblot, where it’s very one sided and there’s a lot of bitterness. Despite this, Papa Viper remains loyal to the Al-Asim family. Deep down he wishes he could spend more tike with his children and deeply regrets telling them to lessen themselves to make the Al-Asims higher than them yet again. And, like Mama Viper, he is incredibly proud of his son for being so intelligent and independent, sticking up for himself and trying to break the chains that kept their family held down foe generations. I think he stands at the same height as Jamil, with shorter cropped hair with grey streaks going across the sides.

-Little sister Viper: A spitfire who’s not afraid to speak her mind, often getting scolded by other servants and the rest of her family. Very close with Kalim’s younger sister who she has to watch over- they have movie nights and makeover nights as often as possible. She often scolds her older brother, telling him little things he needs to change (“haven’t you been wearing your hair like that since forever?”), which often gets them in little passive-aggressive arguments. She and Kalim’s younger sister aspire to be as magicam-popular as the Vil Schoenheit- they even have their friend from the land of Pyroxene to help them boost their account and make their pictures look better (Yes, they call and chat with Cater’s second oldest sister all the time)! I think she has long hair tied in a way similar to their mother’s, with Jamil’s dark grey eyes. I think she stands shorter than the rest of the family, at around 5’2.

Kalim:

-Papa Al-Asim: A cheery, joyful man much like his oldest son! He’s a little dense sometimes, but is actually a very smart man (it’s not easy to own a company after all!). He tries his best to bond with all of his children and wives, but often struggles to juggle everything at once (which leads to him being very teary eyed at every little interaction with any one of his children). Will also spoil his children and wives as often as he can! He likes to see all their different interests, and is overjoyed when he can watch some of them perform during dinners or hang up their paintings or drawings or, if he’s lucky and has the time, he can attend one of their sport games! I think he’d be a little taller than Kalim, with white hair similar to his, with dark brown eyes.

-Mama Al-Asim: A princess at heart. A very quiet and patient woman, who adores her children with every ounce of her being. I think Papa Al-Asim might have four-five wives? Bc these poor woman cannot be having six plus children in the span of seventeen years. I think she gets along well with the others, but would rather it be her and her children getting closer. I think she’s enamored with everything each one of them does, whether it be something as small as a craft they made or a little magic trick they learned, and will keep pictures of every little thing they do. She tries to include every one of them when she does something, whether it be reading aloud to them and the other children, or teaching them how to knit and sew, or helping them learn new dances and wearing new things. She teaches them to be kind to others, often retelling the story about the Thief and the Princess to point out how kind each of the protagonists were. She teaches them as much as possible, from how to help their Papa to how to fix your mistakes and catch them before they happen. She will listen to whatever problems they have, and will offer her shoulder to cry on for each and every one of them. She is also very affectionate to them, still offering cuddles and forehead kisses whenever they look upset (no matter how old they may get). I think she’d have very long brown hair that she tries to add as many intricate little designs to as possible, with Kalim’s bright red eyes. I think she’d be around 5’1-5’2?

-I AM NOT DOING ALL THIRTY YOUNGER SIBLINGS SO HERES A FEW HONORABLE MENTIONS: Twins who get into as much trouble as they possibly can, driving the servants insane. One of them often sneaks out of the palace and comes back after everyone spent hours searching for them with souvenirs. Nobody knows where they went or how they got there, and they won’t tell anyone. His little sisters often dressing up as princesses and performing whole musical numbers during dinner, with the dances down and everything. Hide and seek. With all thirty plus of his little siblings. It’s insanity for anyone wandering the palace. Their drawings are all over the palace. Animals. So. Many. Animals. They have anything from birds, to reptiles, to insects, heck, one of Kalim’s little sisters even has a domesticated tiger! All of them plan as many movie nights and pillow fort building days as often as they can- seeing each other not only as siblings but as close friends! Of course, when their oldest brother comes home from school, they all sit around his room as he tells them stories about things he’d seen and learned, as animated as possible. Of course, he tells them classic fairytales as well, acting them out and jumping around his room, trying to get as many reactions to them as possible. Of course, many of the quieter ones prefer to stick away from the action and near Jamil, who will quietly talk with them in the corner of the room.

Pomefiore:

Vil:

-Papa Schoapjfaojfpak: As already stated, a popular actor and stage director. With this comes the same publicity that Vil has to deal with, making him look nearly flawless and act as such when out in public. He keeps his son’s attitude when it comes to fans, keeping most interactions short and simple, putting on a show offstage nearly as much as he does onstage. Behind closed doors, however, he’s a very kind yet strict father, making sure that Vil takes proper care of himself and is happy at the same time. He struggled with the aspect of having to leave Vil alone for much of the time when he was a child since he had to work often. When these times were especially bad, he’d often bring Vil into the sets to help him get ready for filming or to watch his Papa from a little seat next to the directors. He would always chuckle and pat Vil’s hair whenever he told him something he could’ve done better after the filming process, glad that his son has an eye for these sorts of things. He’d even let him experiment with the expensive costumes and makeup, helping him fix his own small mistakes. He tries to make it to every show and movie that Vil does, often going undercover to ensure that fans don’t take his attention off his son. He has a box full of their own home movies that the two of them made, including action, comedy, even a few thrillers thrown in (of course, Vil was the strong hero who defeated the bad guy)(The bad guy being his poor father with fake blood smeared on his face). He watches them sometimes when he misses his son (and he cries about how far he’s come, not that he’d ever tell Vil). I think he’d be the same height as Vil, and a little muscular due to having to keep up appearances. He has Vil’s hair and eye color.

Rook:

-Mama Hunt: Okay back to my headcannon page about species, I saw something that said that Rook was half beastman. So, I like to think that Rook’s mother is the beastwoman in the relationship. She’s a strong, loving caracal beastwoman. She’s kind and often spoils her son as much as possible, coddling him whenever he’s around, no matter the age. He get’s his poetic nature from her, an artist, poet, author, whatever she could get her hands on! Despite this, she’s still a woman from the Savanah, so she gets very protective over her husband and son, and is a lot stronger than she looks! She would be the kind of woman who’d tell you the most vague, unsettling threats with a smile on her face, and she’s had some pretty close scrapes with people who thought that they could try to hurt her son because he was half human (and also, due to Rook’s nature, likely trespassing on their property). She tries to show her son the beauty in the world, complimenting him on every little thing he did and poetically pointing out everything beautiful around her during their walks (even if it wasn’t)(Mrs.Hunt please don’t show your son that roadkill)(please don’t compliment the roadkill)(let it rest in peace im begging you). She and her husband are incredibly proud of everything Rook does. I think she has short blonde hair that goes black at the ends, yellow eyes, and is only an inch shorter than Rook.

-Papa Hunt: Where do you think Rook got his hunting instinct from? Not from his beastwoman mother, surprisingly. The infamous Mr.Hunt was but a hunter who had wandered too far away from where his friends had decided to go camping in the Savana. He, like his son, was enamored with any non-human species, his curiosity leading him to a beastwoman quietly painting not too far from her home. With her enhanced hearing, she quickly whipped around and glared at him, shocking the man to the point of falling down. And from that point forward, he was in love. He’s incredibly supportive of his wife’s artistry, complimenting her at every moment about how perfect she did and how amazing she is as what she does. He’s a romantic, like his son, so you can expect many, many mushy moments between the two of them (que baby Rook making a face at the display). He wanted to teach his son as much as possible about the world, to make him as curious as possible. Of course, he wanted to bond with his son for as long as possible. How would they do that? Father-son camping trips, in which Papa Hunt would teach the boy how to shoot a bow (it took him a minute to realize that his son’s laser-point accuracy could be because his beastman instincts tell him how to get the kill as fast as possible, and he was the proudest Papa in the Savana when he went to tell his wife). He also often took him to larger towns, letting his boy get acquainted with his beastman culture so he didn’t feel too left out around others. He is the same height as Rook, but with shoulder-length black hair and bright green eyes.

Epel:

-Great-Meemaw Felmier: A very old and wise woman, shockingly stubborn and independent for her old age. She adores her great grandson and was the one who taught him how to carve apples in the first places. She’d tell him stories about when her father first bought the farm they lived on, and what things were like then, how they changed. Of course, she gets tired very quickly so these stories are often left with open endings, much to Epel’s dismay. She always knows what advice to give for any situation, and won’t be afraid to tell you the truth. She’s likely around her late nineties, and often carries around a walker that she smacks people’s ankles with. I think she’d have very, very long hair (“To preserve my youth”, she says) that she lets hang as much as possible.

-Meemaw & Peepaw Felmier: Two very sweet people. Both hailing from families of farmers who had lived in and around the village of harvest their whole lives, they grew up around each other and are practically inseparable. They care very much for their children and grandchildren, and often act as their grandchildren’s partners in crime whenever they get into trouble, patching them up when they get hurt and helping to clean the mess they might have made in the kitchen. would have shoulder-length light purple hair (almost white) that she ties back. They look like Mr. and Mrs. Claus that you see on those old Christmas animations that you can never remember the name of but see every year.

-Uncle & Aunt Felmier: A stern, but kind couple. Uncle Felmier is a gruff man, often being too blunt and too focused on work to take a break every now and again, and Aunt Felmier is strict with her child’s rules and schedule. Luckily, they have Epel’s parents to balance them out when they get too far. Uncle Felmier enjoys working out in the farm with his younger brother, and Aunt Felmier is Mrs.Felmier’s best friend, which made both the men very happy when Papa Felmier was getting ready to marry Mama Felmier. Whether it be cooking, baking, attending festivals in town, or even sitting near the fire and drinking tea/coffee, the four of them greatly enjoys each other’s company. Uncle Felmier is a taller man with light purple hair, with grey streaks going up the front, he’s more built due to working on the farm. Auntie Felmier is a stout woman, with light brown hair that’s often tied up in a low ponytail.

-Papa Felmier: A very kind and hardworking man, who lives for his family. He gets up at the earliest hours in the morning and goes to bed at the latest at night to keep the farm going and to help out their elderly neighbors. He’s a little strict with Epel, but that changed as Epel grew up and became less rowdy (not by a lot). He tries his best to understand his son and let him grow as his own person, hearing him out when he gets upset about others calling him feminine. He even tries to put a stop to his brother making comments about the boy, at least around him. He is a little scrawnier than his brother, but still fairly muscular due to constantly lifting things and operating machinery to keep things running. He has Epel’s purple hair and light green eyes.

-Mama Felmier: Another one where, if you hadn’t known she was a farmer, you’d think she was a lost princess. She’s a kind, generous, quiet woman who does her best to keep her chaotic household from falling apart. Similar to the Tweel’s father, she tries to protect Epel as much as possible, and him going so far away for school made her panic internally, as proud as she was of him. She does her best to calm her son down when he gets rowdy or frustrated at something, and often approaches him with hot cocoa or an apple tart to make him feel a little better. She solves everything with food, which mostly incorporates apples, and believes that by baking for him and by extension, his friends at school, she makes their days a little better, no matter how horrible they may be. She is welcoming to any of the boys from school who may have a hard time at home or who need a place to stay, and was happy to the point of tears when he told her that he made friends at school. Is another one who will proudly display pictures of their child, often having long conversations with their neighbors about how he is, what he’s doing in school, etc etc. She is incredibly beautiful (where else would he get that face?) and has long ginger hair with Epel’s blue eyes.

-Little cousin Felmier: Epel’s baby cousin is only around six or seven, and follows his older cousin as much as he can. He defends Epel as much as possible whenever people call him delicate and girly, and will go on long rants about all the cool things he’d seen him do over the years (“He jumped out o’ th’ tree! Without thinkin’!” “We were sleepin’ outside n’ he heard an animal outside o’ our tent n’ he scared it off!”). Is quick to help around the house, despite being stubborn and upset about not being strong enough to help his father and uncle work outside yet. He’s always quick to ask Epel about school, and has begged him on multiple occasions to let him go with him (“We already sleep in the same room! What’s the difference if it’s here or at your dorm?”). I think he’d have Epel’s hair color but with light green eyes.

Im just imagining Epel’s giant family living in the same farmhouse and it being this small, warm, friendly place out in the country with plaid red curtains and little apple accessories everywhere and quilts and a big fireplace they all talk by 🥺🥺

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