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planet-hwa · 16 days ago

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୨୧ bad boy facade chapter 1 – 산

chapter 1 the writing on the wall ୨୧ series masterlist

pairing badboy!san x reader genre high school au, a very small amount of angst but mostly not word count 4.3k -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ warnings hierarchy systems, mentioned poverty, mentioned smoking and drinking, mentioned adultery?, gang affiliations, past friendship breakups, nicknames/pet names, swearing, mentions of anxiety — featuring woosang

❝ no one tried to read my eyes, no one but you, wish it weren't true ❞ 🎧 now playing no one noticed ; the marias

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The town Mountain View was split, two sides of one coin: the Northside and the Southside.

When you walked through the Northside, the buildings screamed money, all the brick houses were the standard two stories with white picket fences protecting the front yards, a vegetable patch on one side and a swing set or monkey bars on the other. Housewives on their daily power walks with their french bulldogs on leash, the dog bags not being the only plastic they carried on their bodies. Bentleys and Rolls-royces parked in driveways and along the streets, a blinding shine coat on the body and one of those stick-figure family stickers on the back windows. Husbands returning from their high-paid office jobs decked with suits, briefcases and enlarged egos — all aiming to outclass one another with their yearly salaries and perfect families (at least, a facade of a perfect family). Students with their A+ grades and their private school uniforms, all hiding a social-shattering secret from their parents — whether that be cheating classes, smoking weed or fucking the neighbour’s mum when they’d go clean their pool.

All of it was like a page torn out of a high-end magazine or a scene cut from gossip girl.

But when you cross the tracks to the Southside, everything darkens.

Compared to the Northside, the Southside looked like utter trash. Multiple abandoned buildings that were now overrun by unfortunate homeless people, the only two shops being open was a small milk bar and an actual bar where all the residents drank themselves further into depression. There were few full houses, all of them practically crumbling to the step, but many caravans and trucks throughout the large self-made caravan park. Instead of cars through the streets, it was motorbikes owned by the strong-build, tattooed biker gang members: all of them wearing the same leather jackets that read ‘The Black Pirates’ with their logo on the back. Though the community was smaller, it was stronger than the Northside. Everyone had struggles and no one ever considered themselves to be superior to someone else.

The town was glued-stuck in a hierarchical system: rich vs poor, clean vs dirty, scholar vs drug addict. Each side was set to despise each other, the only one seeming to be somewhat in the middle being the mayor of the town, always attempting to keep the peace between each side.

So when the news broke that the Southside High School suddenly burst into flames over summer, the placements of the students turned the town into a frenzy. Parents of the Southside students worried that the lack of a school building will increase their kids chances of an, already, shitty education. And the Northside parents biggest worry was having the new students be put into the private school (not like they could afford it), and cause havoc and distractions on their perfect children’s education. The moment the mayor put out a statement saying ‘all junior students will be sent to Greenfield High School in the next town over, and all senior students will be sent to Mountain View Academy’, parents threatened to remove their students from the school and even leave the town for good.

And some people actually did because they believed themselves to be so above the “southside scum”. In reality, we all bleed the same colour even if the Northsiders claimed they bled gold.

Everyone expected the worst from the new students, but were they really that bad or just completely misunderstood?

Only one way to find out.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

“I can’t believe they’re coming to our school!” Yeosang huffed through the phone, falling back onto his bed and watching you on the screen as you speedrun the holiday homework that was left for the last minute: a stressful habit that occurred every school break. “AND they get to go here with no school fees at all! It’s completely unfair to us, why do we have to pay?”

“Our parents pay, not us.” You chuckled, a dramatic offended gasp leaving him as his hand clutched his chest like he was suffering a heart attack. Your best friend was a very dramatic person, overly dramatic some might say but it was one of your favourite things about him.

“Are you sure you aren’t just scared that you’re gonna see Wooyou-”

“Hey!” Yeosang shouted, causing you to slightly jump at the abrupt loudness. “I thought we agreed to never say that name or talk about that person again.”

The mood change within him was instant, memories of his past friendships flooded into his brain as he was reminded that tomorrow, they’d see each other again after all these years — possibly even be in the same homeroom. You felt bad for bringing it up but unfortunately for him, it was necessary.

“I’m sorry,” you apologised in a whisper, a small sense of guilt climbing over you. “But really, how are you feeling about seeing… him… again?”

Yeosang’s eyes avoided the screen, moving around his bedroom and claiming new interests in the walls and roof.

“I-I’m fine.” He stuttered, his voice cracking slightly before his eyes met yours. “I’ll be fine.”

But that was a lie.

In reality, he was terrified to see his ex best friend once more. The friendship that was held strong between them since they were seven years old, their parents struggling to separate them at the end of school days and most ending in a sleepover at the other's house. The friendship that followed its way into high school, even after Wooyoung moved in the second year, they still managed to see each other every single day. The friendship that Wooyoung ruined the moment he joined The Black Pirates and started committing petty crimes and snorting any sort of substance he came across.

Yeosang tried his hardest to help him, desperately wanting to save him from early death, but Wooyoung countered it with harmful words and even more harmful punches. It was that day that Yeosang vowed to himself to never talk to Wooyoung again.

He still remembers the last fight as if it were yesterday and not four years ago.

“Youngie, please! You can’t keep doing this to yourself, it’s destroying you!” Yeosang pleaded, the tight grasp on Wooyoung’s hands trying to hold him back from leaving. “Please, I can help you.”

“I don’t need help!” Wooyoung yelled, yanking his hands away from Yeosang. He ran his fingers through his hair, gripping tightly at the roots before dropping his arms to his sides.

Yeosang stared at him in disbelief, never seeing this side of aggression from his best friend before, and it was terrifying. The redness of Wooyoung’s face, especially around the eyes and nose was the only hint towards him that this was not his normal self-

“Are you kidding me…” Wooyoung moved his heavy eyes to Yeosang, his friend’s face masked with grief and sadness and his eyes glossed over with tears that threatened to spill. “You’re high right now, aren’t you?”

“Fuck off.” Wooyoung scoffed, a subtle yet very telling swipe of his nose indicating that, yes, he was in fact high. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Wooyoung, please-”

“No! I’m so sick of this shit Yeosang!” Wooyoung shouted, stepping forwards as Yeosang backed himself into the wall, his frame blocking him in. “Ever since I joined The Black Pirates you’ve been so fucking annoying about it, saying I’ll get hurt or killed but look, I’m completely fine! Why can’t you just be fucking happy for me that I fit in somewhere?”

“Because you’re not fine!” Yeosang uses the strength over Wooyoung to push him harshly away, his feet losing balance and almost toppling over himself. It was so obvious that he was not Wooyoung, not really. “I know you’re not, I know you better than anyone!”

That ticked something in Wooyoung’s brain. Whether it was the words that came out of his best friend’s mouth or the drugs that penetrated his system and pressed hard on the anger inside him, something clicked.

Wooyoung lunged forward with a tight flying fist, planting a harsh punch to the side of Yeosang’s face. His body fell harshly to the ground, the pinch of pain instantly clouding his eye and preparing to leave a purple bruise. He glared down at his teary eyed friend, wincing as his hand softly grazed the affected area — but Wooyoung wasn’t done.

He climbed atop Yeosang’s body, his weight now holding him down as he began setting punch after punch onto his face. The strikes were agonising, not because of the contact but because of the person initiating it. Tears streamed down Yeosang’s puffed cheeks, burning the sensitive skin and being spread around by Wooyoung’s fist. He cried out desperately for him to stop, but Wooyoung’s ears were blocked by fury, smoke practically steamed out of them.

“Youngie- Please, it hurts!” Yeosang begged, his voice croaking from the heavy emotions between them. “P-please, stop!”

With one last blow to his jawline, Wooyoung finally ceased his aggressive motions, breath heaving above Yeosang as he covered his face with his hands and wiped away his tears. Wooyoung stood up and scowled down at the boy, a clob of spit flying from his mouth and landing on Yeosang’s chest.

His heart broke into a million pieces when he heard Wooyoung’s final words. “You don’t know me at all.”

And a few days later, you had been partnered with him for a school project and haven’t been able to get rid of him since.

Actually, he hasn’t been able to get rid of you.

You had never gotten the displeasure of meeting Wooyoung he who shall not be named, only hearing the stories and seeing a few photos, but you didn’t like him. Not one bit. Not after seeing the effects he left on your best friend, both the physical evidence and the emotional. Though he was a bit dramatic, Yeosang was one of, if not, the sweetest person you knew. So knowing that someone could hurt him so bad, someone so close to him as well — it didn’t sit right with you. I mean, who could hurt a person as pure as the driven snow, a man with not a single bad bone in his body.

“So, what homeroom are you in?” Yeosang asked, swiftly trying to change the topic.

“Uhh… I think I’m in Homeroom 710-”

“Nooo!” He whined, the fake tears beginning to fall but you just laughed. “I’m in Homeroom 715, this is a scam.”

Yeosang began to fake cry once more, quickly stopping and looking at the phone screen to make sure you were watching him before continuing. All you could do was laugh at him. He continued to complain about everything coming up tomorrow whilst you finished off the last few lines of your homework. You will never understand the concept of homework, why are we learning stuff at home when we’re meant to learn it at school?

You weren’t the best school academically but you were all of the teacher’s favourites purely based on your kindness and helpfulness within the classes, you were always the person to be put with the new students and be their guide for the day. There was a worry in the back of your mind that you would be chosen, once again, to show the new students around. And you were okay with that, frankly you didn’t care about all the new students and the possibility of them “ruining the education of the good ones”. Your family was rich but they were one of the few who were snobby rich, and you were taught to never judge a book by its cover.

But imagine if you had to be the guide for the school for your best friend’s enemy, that'd be the biggest betrayal to his moral loyalty, even if the choice wasn’t yours.

Once you finished the final dot, you packed up all your school supplies into your bag, sitting it next to your laid out uniform; which you only did so you could be more prepared in the morning so you could sleep in and avoid going to school for as long as possible.

“Anyways, I better go to bed.” Yeosang sighed, already snuggling himself into the duvet. “Gotta get my beauty sleep.”

“Yeah sure… I’ll see you tomorrow,” You scoffed and climbed into your own bed, plugging your phone into the charger quickly: it had been sitting on 3% for about an hour. “And you know, you can talk to me about anything, right?”

Referring to your previous conversation, you could see the hurt on Yeosang’s face when it was brought up, almost feeling it through the phone. He was never good with confrontation, always let things go because he was too afraid to speak up. And the one time he did speak up, he got multiple hits to the face so it didn’t leave the best impression. He simply nodded before saying goodbye and hanging up-

“WAIT! Did you hear about-”

The call didn’t end until 2am.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

Waking up the next morning, you already dreaded the pressures that the final year of school was gonna put on you. With the extra homework, more intense classes, mid-year and end-of-year exams, college applications — not to mention the constant questions from adults around you about what you’ll do once you’ve finished school, since you have to have your entire life planned and prepared the moment you enter the real world. If the “real world” was the one you entered once you finished school, then what world was the one you lived in for the past 18 years?

You shook the thoughts out of your head, promising to yourself that you wouldn’t start to overthink them. Quickly throwing on your uniform, the white button up covered by the navy blue and maroon school colours of your blazer and plaid skirt, a neat tie placed under the colour.

The perfect private school look, worn by many perfectly imperfect teenagers.

“Morning pumpkin, breakfast is on the table.” Your mum joyfully smiled as you came down the stairs. Your father hurriedly packed up the last of his things into the briefcase before kissing the both of you on your cheeks and heading off to run his company.

“Do you need a ride to school this morning?”

“No it’s okay,” You say before sitting at the table and sipping on your tea. “Yeosang is picking me up.”

“Didn’t he crash his car because he got distracted by a squirrel on the side of the road?” She asked with a small raise of the eyebrow.

“Yeah… he’s still a good driver though?” You answered, slight uncertainty turning the statement more into a question. “I think…”

Your mother chuckled lightly before sitting next to you with her toast and coffee. The toast crunched under your bite, crispy crumbs falling on your neat blazer before being swatted off by your mother’s hand.

Though your family was part of the more fortunate side of town, you were the most humble of them all. Unlike the other mothers who let their husbands provide for them and were content with being housewives, your mother worked from home for your father’s company, reading over and sorting out papers her husband would bring home. He would always rely and trust the opinion of her rather than any corporate douche who was only in it for the pay rather than the impact. Your family also still loved each other, though divorce was unusual in the community: a loveless marriage was not.

Before any of the usual morning conversation could start, loud booming music could be heard outside with a few knocks to the door. Pulling your bag over your shoulder and bidding your mother farewell, you opened the door and was greeted with your brightly smiling best friend.

“Have a nice day, angels!” Your mum shouted before you both left and got into his, newly repaired, car.

“Isn’t she beautiful again!” Yeosang exclaimed, gesturing his hands around the car, the familiar dented bumper no longer visible and covered over with a shimmering new coat.

“Yeah, make sure no rogue ants distract you.” You joked landing yourself a small punch to your arm, which you returned to him slightly harder.

“To be fair, that squirrel was climbing the tree backwards,” He justified, turning the key and pulling at the handbrake before moving off down the road. “Who wouldn’t look at that?”

The car ride was short yet jovial, the playlist cued with your favourite songs and the carpool karaoke blocking out all current worries, and any noise from outside. Turning down the side street, the large school building finally came into view. Built tall with bricks, both a muddy red and a softer cream colour, large arch windows placed symmetrically along each wall. The grand staircase that led up to an arched entrance, young and new students already filing into the building to be earliest to class. A clean walkway tracing around the courtyard, soft cherry blossom trees outlining the path and sitting atop freshly cut grass.

Yeosang pulled into the student car park, directly into his specially designed spot that all year 12s painted at the end of last year. One bump to the curb and a small ‘oopsies’ from Yeosang and you were ready to leave the car. Closing the door, you looked up at the excessively large building, it still felt as intimidating as your first day. The sudden reminder that the school year has officially started finally kicked in, along with the anxiety.

“Ready to enter hell?” Yeosang’s sarcastic voice pulled you out of your thoughts, quickly nodding before linking arms and wandering up the path and towards the entrance.

The courtyard was laced with students, all the older ones hugging and catching up on their holidays to Bali or Fiji, multiple white girls with low-key cultural appropriated braids and beads in their hair. New students being hurried along by their parents to meet up with the teachers that were scattered around, all desperate to get their kid ahead by offering up different types of fruits or souvenirs.

You continued to walk through the courtyard and finally up the grand concrete stairs before Yeosang stopped and pulled at your arm lightly. Looking up at him, you saw the discomfort in his expression before following his eyes to meet a group of students being lectured by the principal. Scanning through the crowd, you recognised none of the students, all of them being the new transfers from the southside.

Finally, your eyes met where Yeosang’s stare sat, a group of four boys huddled out of the way and seeming to not pay much attention and all owning the same thing: a black leather jacket with a large patch on the back. A skull with a pirate hat sitting in front of a sword that had ropes tied around it, the words ‘The Black Pirates’ sewn above it in a banner style — each jacket having a different name written underneath.

One boy was tall, extremely tall and had a strong build yet a soft face, short dark brown hair with a few blonde streaks in it. The boy stood next to him slightly shorter yet with a larger build, as if his muscles had muscles, his face as serious as a heart attack. Then your eyes fell on a familiar face, though you had never met him before, he looks exactly like his instagram photos. Wooyoung; he who shall not be named; your best friend’s ex friend and your designated enemy. He was the shortest of the four, a cocky smirk and rolled eyes were masking his face as the principal spoke. His hair was cut into a mullet style, the underneath dyed blonde, the hairstyle he hadn’t changed since he and Yeosang were friends — the hairstyle Yeosang suggested for him, but only they knew that.

And the final boy, the most relaxed and comfortable looking of them all, and also the most handsome. All his facial features were sharp and created with extreme precision; his jawline as sharp as knives, and his eyes held a piercing gaze for anyone who looked his way. His broad shoulders lent up against the wall and his arms crossed, obvious muscular biceps pushing through the leather sleeves. His hair was jet black with a few strands falling over his face perfectly shaping his cheekbones.

Before you could stop staring, his eyes met yours before glancing over your body and back up. He shot a wink in your direction as he followed the principal’s group through the school doors. Unusual butterflies began to flourish in your stomach at the interaction, but pushing the feelings and thoughts aside quickly and focusing back on Yeosang.

“Hey, are you okay?” A worried look appeared on your face as you watched his thoughts fly around in his head, noticing the glassiness of his eyes as they met yours.

“Y-yeah, I just…” He blinked away any reminiscence of possible grief, not wanting to show the effects that one glance at he who shall not be named does to him. “I didn’t expect to see him straight away.”

You squeezed his arm gently before nodding your head to go inside. He wiped over his face before sending you a soft smile and following your lead through the doors, where once inside, Wooyoung and his friends were nowhere to be seen — for now.

From students organising lockers to the ones standing and chatting in the middle of the hall, you trudged your way through until returning to your locker, Yeosang’s located just a few away from you. Swirling the lock left then right to the numbers of your code, it clicked open and the dreaded textbooks stared back at you. On the door was two clipped polaroids: one of you and Yeosang from his sixteenth birthday party, and the other of you and-

The feeling of long arms slithering around your waist caused you to jolt backwards, your back being met with a strong chest. Spinning around in the arms, you looked up at your giggling boyfriend before he leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your lips. The familiar warmth made you melt into his embrace as he pulled away.

“Hey baby, did you miss me?” He smirked and cocked an eyebrow, quickly dropping his arms from your waist and leaning against the open locker door, a move he’d pull on you to tower his large frame over you.

“Yunho, why didn’t you tell me you got back?” You smiled softly, love filling your eyes as you watched his wander around the familiar halls before meeting yours once more. “And of course I missed you.”

“I only got back yesterday, and I was too jet lagged and fell asleep before I could text you.”

“It’s okay, we can talk about your amazing summer in Europe at lunch.” Reaching up for another kiss, the ring of the first bell cut you short.

Hastily gathering your books and shutting your locker, you waved to Yeosang as he walked in the opposite direction before following Yunho into the classroom, thankfully sharing a homeroom together. As you walked in, your homeroom teacher mentioned that this year was assigned seating to reduce distractions of sitting next to friends — seriously, are we twelve?

Tracing your finger along the drawn setup, you found your seat number, your name and your partner’s name. The name didn’t sound familiar to you, automatically recognising that you were seated next to a new student, most likely a southside one. Of course. Since you hadn’t been assigned to give any tour guides, of course they would still place a new student with you. But you had an open mind, the only thing worrying you was it being a guy who sat next to you with your boyfriend being an easily jealous person. It took him so long to understand that Yeosang and you were just friends, and had never been or never would be anything more. You even ignored the fact that Yunho was sitting next to his best friend, a girl who was desperately in love with him and who he had left you to help multiple times.

The second bell rang through the school, the majority of students now seated with books open in front of them. Your homeroom teacher, Mrs Waltz, began to read off the attendance followed by ‘here’ and ‘present’ of student voices. The sudden sound of the door opening interrupted her flow, the principal’s head poking in before fully entering.

“Sorry to interrupt Mrs Waltz, I just wanted to make sure all the newer students made it to all their classes." Mr Kim stated, moving over slightly to gesture the few new students in, though you weren’t paying much attention and were distracted by jotting down the start of your notes.

“Of course,” She smiled, pointing to her drawn up seating chart. “Your seats are written up on the wall here.”

“Everyone, please be welcoming.” Mr Kim lectured before leaving and returning to his office.

The rustling of southside footsteps mixed with the judgemental whispers of northside students filtered the classroom, Mrs Waltz quickly continuing her lessons. Too invested in your notes, you didn’t notice the figure that plopped down in the seat beside you. You glanced back at Yunho who had a small scowl on his face, more aimed at the person next to you, but returning him with a small understanding smile.

The person behind him caught your attention as you recognised the oreo coloured hair to be Wooyoung’s. You were annoyed that he was in your homeroom, but also filled with gratitude that he wasn’t in Yeosang’s, losing the ability to belittle and distract him. Accidentally ignoring the person next to you, a throat clearing cough brought your attention to him.

“Hey princess, do you have a pencil?”

୨୧ next chapter

author’s note it's finally here! the first chapter of the series, i hope you all enjoy it! i know that it's kind of short and there was actually very little mention of san in this but this was more of a prologue to the series, he'll have heavy features in the rest of the series... obviously. REMINDER: i am from australia so the spelling of some words may not be the correct spelling for you but they are for me >.<

୨୧ taglist @morethingsfandom @solaris-amethyst @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @baby-stay92 @autieofthevalley @liveloveseonghwa @dejatiny @mortal-advocate @dreamsoffanfics @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @dalsuwaha @nevieatiny @woateez @choizlover @foreveryxunggg @woosmaid @yeosannie4 @auroras-colors @mintchocosan @jjongbearsies @frzzenfrxg @sanniebabes @cyberpvnk-enthusiast @eyesonlyformingi @sannies-tiddies @honeyjongie @rainteez02 @robertsbbygirl @mingisgf999 @atzz8 @moonlight-hwa @chrryjoong @sanhwalvr @cloudysannie @atxxzist @choisansplushie @starz-choisanii @slowitdownmakeitb0uncy @jerseygirlzzzxx @mzngi @sparda1234 @babigriin @marvolos

#written by planet hwa ༉‧₊˚✧#bad boy facade series 🕸♥✟🕷#ateez #choi san #ateez series #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez smut #san series #san x reader #san imagines #san fanfic #san fluff #san angst #san smut

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supercap2319 · 11 months ago

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"Do Serpents always do this?" Y/N pulls out his phone and a picture of Archie on his motorcycle in his underwear with a leather jacket on. He's smiling for the camera.

A hint of a blush appears on Archie's cheeks as he eyes the photograph. "Well, it depends on the Serpent. Some of us like to show off what we got, others like to keep a low profile."

"And were you showing off?"

Archie chuckled, leaning back against the wall. "Maybe a little," he admitted with a grin. "But I also happen to think it's pretty damn sexy. But hey, if it gets the ladies - or fellas, in this case - all hot and bothered, why not?"

"Wow. Didn't know the King of the Serpents's son was into dudes." Y/N said.

Archie shrugged his shoulders. "A hole is a hole. No matter the genitals that come with it. And you, in particular, seem like someone I could have a lot of fun with."

"Nice try. I know what you guys do here on the Southside do to fellas like me." Y/N told the red head.

"Oh really?" Archie replied, his eyes glinting with interest. "And what exactly do we do to fellas like you?" He leaned in closer, his voice lowering conspiratorially."

""Beat me up? Steal all my money? Gangbang me? I mean I heard there's no more Southside slut for you guys. What did you do to your last one? Fucked them too hard?" He jokes.

"Touché, sweetheart. You know your way around some nasty talk." Archie replied, grinning. "But listen here, we don't go around hurting people just for the hell of it. And as for the Southside slut rumors..."

"Yes?" he asked, leaning close in curiosity.

"Well, it's true that we like our fun rough and dirty." Archie admitted with a wicked smirk. "But we also know how to treat someone right in bed. And as for the gangbang thing... maybe I could show you how much of a slut you really are."

Archie's eyes glinting with excitement. "Then I'm going to introduce you to the rest of my gang - one by one. They're all hung like stallions and know how to treat a dirty little slut like you."

"What makes you think I'd let you do that to me, or if I'd even be into it?"

"Oh, you'll be into it." Archie assured him with a wicked grin. "You might even enjoy being treated like the little whore you are." He leaned in closer still, his warm breath tickling against the other man's neck. "Besides... I can be very persuasive when I want to be. And I really, really want to make you scream my name."

#x male reader #male reader insert #male x male #archie andrews #archie comics #riverdale #riverdale x reader #kj apa #Kj apa x male reader #Archie Andrews x male reader #Archie is a Southside Serpent

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i-literally-cant-with-this · 1 year ago

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A/N ::: This goes out to @kazutora-kurokawa She's a sicky right now and wanna make her feel better. Ilysm, Kaz. I hope this stupid ass cold leaves your vessel soon!

C/W ::: Sicky fluff. F.reader has a cold and Kazutora, Izana and Baji (separately) take care of you.

Kazutora

Doesn't quite know what to you when you first get sick, but quickly picks up on anticipating your needs. You sneeze? Here's a tissue.

Buys the one with lotion in it because the last time he was sick his nose was rubbed raw from blowing it so often.

Has a steady stream of fluids coming your way (oj or any j you want, water, gatorade, tea to warm you. He's got you.

Keeps the heat up even though he's hotter than hell.

Izana

Doesn't really want to be around you at first because what if he gets sick and can't perform his gang-ly duties.

Hears you coughing from the living room and feels awful that he's being such a pussy about this. It's just a cold.

Opts to wear a mask to take care of you.

Ends up getting sick anyway but you're RIGHT there to take care of his baby ass.

Baji

Goes overboard getting you cold medicine because he can't decide between the 38 different kinds at the drugstore and you're sleeping so he can't call you and ask you what you wanted again WHY DIDN'T HE WRITE IT DOWN LIKE YOU SAID TO.

Has your pillows fluffed constantly and the covers pulled up around your chin.

Rubs your feet with menthol and puts socks on you before you slip off to sleep (again)

Wakes up with you in the night when you have a coughing fit and rubs your back until you're asleep.

@arlerts-angel @darkstarlight82 @katshimizuu @viburnt @southside-otaku

#tokyo revengers #baji keisuke #izana kurokawa #kazutora hanemiya #keisuke baji #kurokawa izana #hanemiya kazutora #tokyo rev x you #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers fluff #tokrev fluff #tokyo rev fluff

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yourjughead · 1 year ago

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Attack Dog pt.2

Sweet Pea X Reader enemies to lovers

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

Hey wait up Brass Knuckles” Sweet Pea easily reached you in a light jog. You gritted your teeth to push down the pain of the spasm in your leg at the end of its contractions. You pulled your hood up before returning an arm to your thigh.

“So I'm not even gonna get a thank you Princess?” You stopped dead, if even to just give your leg a break from your weight.

“What do you want a fucking medal?” you shot.

“Listen, from where I'm stood, you need me a lot than I need you right now, so you wanna maybe try another tone? Let me help you home” You just rolled your eyes at him and began to limp along again. Sweet Pea went to put an arm around you to support your weight only to be met with the palms of your hands into his chest pushing him away.

“Do. Not. Touch. Me.” You snapped.

“Okay fine, hobble along, maybe I should go back and tell them where you've gone to or who you are?” You stopped again, your leg sending a shot of warning pain down to your toes. You exhaled loudly before stretching out an arm allowing Sweet Pea to pass beneath it and support your weight with his shoulders.

“What are you even doing out this far this late?” He didn't leave the silence between you stay that long.

“Trying to sort through my thoughts”

“Yes I hear punching the leaders of gangs is very good for that” you glanced worriedly at him.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean what I said, or is that rain jacket cutting the blood flow to your ears” he threw your early words back at you.

“I didn't know that's who he was, a weird man grabbed me, it was instinct”

“It's a real shame you hate Serpents so much, that was a very Serpent thing to do” you scoffed at him.

“Why'd you even help me anyways?”

“I was in between shifts selling drugs to children” he gave a small laugh and you fought away a smile. You both carried on along the road for awhile without speaking.

“This changes nothing”

“Whatever you say Princess”

“Stop calling me that”

“Fine, I'll go back to attack dog, seems more fitting now anyways” you didn't care about the pain in your leg, you snatched your arm back from over him and tucked it into your side. Your surroundings started to become more familiar to you as you got closer to the Northside once again. Sweet Pea slowed behind you and you turned, surprised he didn't badger you about not letting him help.

“What?”

“Nothing I just… I just don't like being over there without my friends” Sweet Pea nodded in the direction of where you grew up and you couldn't help but laugh.

“Afraid of the little Northsiders? Very surprising” you teased but he didn't quip back.

“If anyone asks, you weren't on the Southside alone, I wasn't on the Northside alone, everyone stayed where they're supposed to” you nodded in agreement, happy to forget this night. Your cadence evened as your leg finally relaxed after being electrified.

“Well….I got it from here, thanks I guess”

“Wow who knew Northsiders had manners?”

“Who knew Serpents even knew the word manners?” He scoffed at you before gesturing for you to keep walking without him.

Sweet Pea POV

Monday morning came around, the junior Serpents were alive with discussions of last Friday night.

“I heard a Ghoulie girl came up and clocked him”

“I heard it was a girl from New York”

“I heard it was his long lost daughter” I buried a smile at my friends and their theories. Thank god no one got a good look at her. Why do I even care? She's so nasty to us. It kept me awake all night. Why did I help her? Why am I still thinking about it? I looked out from my locker to ask Jughead a question to find him staring longingly at YN. I tried not to roll my eyes. Our friends lost in their theories.

“What's up Jones?”

“Nothing”

“Nah, you're looking at your attack dog more like she's a cuddly Pomeranian” I closed the locker and leaned on it alongside him.

“She's not like that normally, she just has a lot on her plate”

“And do you also wanna be on that plate?” Couldn't help myself, he pushed me sideways along the locker smiling.

“Maybe I did once but the way she looks at me now….she hates me”

“No no, she looks at me like she hates me, she looks at you like she's trying to figure out her next move with you. Just give her the time and space to figure it out” his head shot in my direction.

“And you know this because why? You look at her a lot?” If I was being honest I did find my eyes on YN a lot, every class we shared, she was more interesting that whatever the teachers were droning on about.

“No no, just an observation I made, part of my job to be….. observant” he looked at me like he didn't believe me. I didn't believe me. Lucky for me he didn't speak whatever he was thinking. I took a stolen glance at YN laughing down the hall with her friends. I wish I could make her laugh like that.

“Right I've had enough, I'm gonna talk to her today, I can't keep going on pretending I don't miss her”

“Careful Jones, that's not very Serpent of you”

“Yeah…but maybe I don't want to be a Ser-” I cut him off, my temper taking me as I caught his shirt.

“Don't finish that sentence unless you mean it. You're either with us or against us” our friends stopped gossiping and stared at us. I released my grip before pushing off the locker and heading down the hall. I don't like when people use me and my friends. Was he just using us until he got back to here? I met YNs eyes, she saw everything. Good job Sweet Pea I'm sure that'll help the situation.

I sat on the end of bleachers of the football pitch during lunch, the only place I could have a cigarette without a teacher freaking out at me.

“Yanno that'll kill you?” I turned to find YN sat a little distance from me.

“Funny, Jones said the same thing about you to me” I hear her give a half-suppressed laugh at me. Not quite the hearty laugh I heard from her this morning but I'll take what I can get.

“What was that with Jughead this morning? Tell him what happened with us on Friday?”

“Us? Oh no no Princess, you get all the credit for your right hook, all the blame too” I crushed the cigarette into the bleacher before chewing on some gum.

“You know what I meant” she kept her gaze on the field of football players doing their lunch time training as she spoke.

“Don't worry I didn't say anything. I was just giving him advice on what you need-”

“-And how the hell would you know what I need!”

“Well I think you need a good fuck cause that's the only thing I think that'll get you to stop being so up tight-” her head shot to me, no longer concerned with who saw us talking.

“-but I settled for the old reliable give her time and space” I watched her chest release the full capacity of air from her lungs before taking another deep breath. She shuffled slightly before zipping up her sweatshirt. Oh shit I was just staring at her chest.

“I didn't…I didn't mean that I want to be the one to….fuck you…I meant …” I didn't know what I meant so I shut myself up and waited for the bleachers to swallow me whole. She scoffed before returning her eyes to the field, watching Archie passing the ball around.

“I'm not normally like this, I'm just finding it hard to find my feet back here again. So much change here and when I was out moving house every few months the only thing that kept me sane was knowing this place would stay my constant. Now that's changed too” her head dropped down slightly with her lowered tone.

“I umm I don't know why I just told you that”

“The Serpents are my constant, I know you don't like us but they were the only ones to care about me growing up. I don't like when that's disrespected, that's what the thing with Jughead and I was about this morning”

“Careful there snake brain, your human side is showing” I grinned at her comment. The lunch bell rang out across the school, sending YN and me our separate ways for the day, the whole interaction not leaving my thoughts for the rest of the week

Part 3

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fanfics4all · 13 days ago

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Leather and Loyalty

Request: Yes / No Hii I hope all things are going well with you,I was wondering is i could request a fic on how jughead Jones would react if his girlfriend wanted to become a serpent (specifically female due to the serpent dance they have to preform). Thank you and I'm sending all my best to you for the new year @pollymastaa

Don’t be shy, request things! <3 Have a nice day/night

Jughead Jones x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1069

Warnings: Nothing I think

Y/N: Your Name

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK!

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you!

Masterlist

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(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

The Whyte Wyrm pulsed with life, the dim neon glow casting shadows over the Southside Serpents. The scent of cigarettes and cheap beer clung to the air, but I hardly noticed anymore. My heart pounded against my ribs, anticipation curling in my stomach like fire. Tonight was my chance to fully join Jughead’s world. Jughead, however, was anything but excited.

“You don’t have to do this.” He said, his voice low but firm. He stood close, his leather jacket with the iconic Serpent logo hung loose over his frame. His fingers twitched at his sides like he was resisting the urge to reach for me. I exhaled sharply.

“You did the trials.” His jaw tightened.

“Yeah, but it’s different.”

“How?” He didn’t answer right away. His stormy blue-green eyes flickered across the bar, then back to me.

“You know how.” My throat tightened. The Serpent dance. The humiliating, degrading test women had to go through to prove themselves. It was outdated and sexist, but still a requirement. And Jughead hated the thought of me being put in that position.

“You don’t think I can handle it?” I challenged, crossing my arms. His expression softened, but that only made it worse.

“It’s not about that.” I knew he meant well, he always did, but I spent too long on the outskirts of this world, waiting- no, needing to be a part of it. The Serpents were more than a gang, they were a family.

“I want this, Juggie.” I said, voice steady.

“I want to be one of you… I want to stand beside you, not behind you.” Something flashed in his eyes, something vulnerable.

“You already belong with me.” My breath hitched. He always knew what to say to make my walls crumble. But I wouldn’t let him talk me out of it this time. Before I could respond, Toni sauntered over, a knowing smirk on her lips.

“You ready?” I glanced at Jughead one last time. His hands curled into fists, frustration clear in the set of his shoulders. But I turned away, following Toni towards the stage. The murmurs in the bar grew louder.

“Wait!” Jughead’s voice cut through the noise. I stopped. He stepped forward, the weight of his stare pressing into me. Then in a move that shocked everyone, including me, he shrugged off his Serpent jacket and draped it over my shoulders. The room went silent.

“This means you’re already one of us.” He said, his voice rough, his eyes burning into mine.

“No dance. No priving yourself to anyone. You’re a Serpent.” My fingers clutched the worn leather, my vision blurring slightly. He was breaking the rules for me. Toni arched a brow but nodded in approval.

“Well, that’s one way to do it.” Some people cheered, but all I could focus on was Jughead. He stepped closer, his hands brushing over my arms before he leaned in, his lips ghosting over my temple.

“Never doubt that you belong, okay?” I nodded, swallowing back the lump in my throat.

“You can’t just…”

“She didn’t do the dance!”

“That’s not how this shit works, man.” SweetPea was the first to step forward, his brows drawn together in anger.

“Jones, what the hell? You can’t just hand Y/N a jacket and make her a Serpent!” Jughead squared his shoulders, jaw clenched.

“I just did.” Pea scoffed.

“We all had to earn it. You don’t get to rewrite the roles just because-” His eyes flickered to me, and I stiffened.

“Because what?” Jughead’s voice was sharp now, edged with something dangerous.

“Because she’s my girlfriend?” The room went silent again. I felt a flush rise to my cheeks at the way he said it- possessive, protective. But I wasn’t about to let this turn into a debate about me needing his protection. I straightened.

“I can earn it. I would have earned it, just like the rest of you.” Pea looked conflicted, but another guy- some older Serpent I didn’t know that well- shook his head.

“That’s not the point, girl. There are rules and traditions. We don’t just-”

“Oh, so now you wanna question our leader?” Toni’s voice cut through the noise like a blade.

All eyes snapped to her. She stood with her arms crossed, an eyebrow raised, exuding the kind of authority that could make anyone think twice before running their mouth. The guy hesitated.

“That’s not-”

“No, go ahead.” She pressed, stepping closer.

“You wanna challenge FP’s kid? Our Serpent King? ‘Cause last I checked, he’s the one that stepped up. And if he says she’s one of us, then she’s one of us.” Silence.

I could practically feel the weight of Jughead’s gaze on me, but I didn’t look away from the group of Serpents still on the fence. My hands curled into fists, but I kept my chip up, refusing to shrink under their scrutiny.

Finally, Fangs, who had been watching the whole thing from the sidelines, sighed and rolled his eyes.

“You guys are exhausting.” He muttered, before nudging Sweet Pea.

“It’s done. Let it go.” Sweet Pea hesitated, then exhaled sharply and nodded.

“Fine.” The tension in the room eased just a little, and Toni smirked.

“Thought so.” She clapped a hand on my shoulder.

“Welcome to the family, babe.” Relief flooded through me, but before I could respond, Jughead’s hand found mine, tugging me gently toward him.

“We’re done here.” He muttered, before leading me away from the crowd, the weight of his Serpent jacket still heavy on my shoulders. Once we were out of earshot, I finally pulled him to look at me.

“Jug, I-”

“I know.” He said, his voice softer now, the fight gone from his eyes.

“I know you would have done it, and I know you’re strong enough.” His fingers traced the edges of the jacket.

“But I wasn’t about to let them put you through that.” My heart clenched.

“You didn’t have to-”

“Yes, I did.” He exhaled, his forehead resting against yours for just a second.

“You’re mine and I protect what’s mine.” A small smile tugged at my lips.

“So, you’re officially calling me yours now?” He huffed a quiet laugh.

“Guess I am.” I smirked.

“About time, Serpent King.” He rolled his eyes but pulled me closer.

“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t let it go to your head.” I grinned wrapping my arms around his neck.

“No promises.”

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auroralwriting · 8 months ago

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illicit affairs

chapter one

biker!bucky barnes x stark!reader (turf war au)

miss stark begins to have doubts about her "family."

chapter two | series masterlist

warnings: violence, language, small age gap (6~ years), angst, arguing, drinking, overall crime and gang stuff, sort of enemies to lovers

Back before The Fallout, as many outsiders dubbed it, The Avengers were a tight knit group of friends in New York who were founded to change the look of "gangs," as some called them. However, not long after its beginning, its end came just as fast.

Tony Stark and Steve Rogers, the pivotal members, just couldn't decide on how The Avengers should be ran. So, they split up almost equally into two groups, each taking a part of the city to call their own.

The Northside Stark Syndicates (aka Queens) was now made up of James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Paul Bettany, who simply was nicknamed by everyone as "Vision," Clint Barton, Bruce Banner, Tony Stark, and his little sister.

The Southside Avengers (Brooklyn), who kept the original name, included Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff, and Bucky Barnes.

In the previous years, Tony had kept you out of the original Avengers due to your younger, more innocent age. Now, however, in your early twenties, Tony was quick to introduce you to the life you were somewhat protected from.

"I'm telling you," Clint whined, "they gave us a look."

Vision raised an eyebrow, "I highly doubt they gave us a look. I mean, were the biggest crime unit in the city." Oh, yeah, was it mentioned that nowadays the gangs were not made to change the look of gangs? "Plus, if they really gave us a look, we all would have seen it."

You sat on your chair, scrolling through you phone bored out of your mind. Honestly, who gives a shit if someone gives a look? You surely didn't care, and neither did Bruce.

"I really don'y think it matters anyways," Bruce commented. "If they do it again, we'll just beat their asses.

"I'm gonna check it out, it's worth it." Tony decided, clapping his hands. "And for the love of god, can we stop saying the bad words around the child?"

You rolled your eyes, "I'm not a kid, Tony. I take care of myself."

"Yeah, yeah," Tony waved you off. "I'm gonna go check it out. Let's go partying after."

Rhodey gave an obnoxiously loud sigh, "I don't want to party, I just want to chill and drink. We've been partying almost every night this week. Can't we just go to some bar, watch some tv, and drink?"

"All in vote of drinking at a bar?" Clint asked as everyone raised their hands. "It's settled then."

"You're all such losers," Tony moaned. "I need new friends, seriously, you're all so fuckin' lame." Tony grabbed his knife and shoved it in his pocket. "Happy told me about this new bar, Tito's. Let's try there."

Vision looked to Tony with a confused look, "Isn't that almost on the South?"

The room got tense as Tony stared blankly at Vision. "Almost. It's like, right in the middle. We'll be fine." Infamous last words.

"This place isn't so bad," Rhodey said as the group walked in. You felt eyes on you; that happened wherever you went. "It's casual, kind of relaxing."

The six of you got seats at the bar as you all ordered your drinks. "It's alright," Tony shrugged, "Not the same as a club, but not bad." His face was a little more blue than a couple of hours ago. It was clear he roughed up those guys from earlier.

"Oh my god, Tony, give up the clubbing idea." Clint grumbled.

You took a sip of your drink as the room became oddly silent. Your eyes fell to the door. Oh, shit. In walked The Avengers, whose eyes all fell on your group just as quick as it took for your friends to notice them as well. The stares were brutal as they made their way to a booth, Steve's eyes never left Tony's. Tony's never left Steve. It was an awkward tension. Soon, a quiet chatter, more quiet than before, fell upon the bar again.

"Maybe we should just leave," You muttered softly.

"I agree, I'm not liking this tension. Also, Romanoff won't stop staring at me." Clint sighed. The two of them used to be tight, almost tighter than any other duos in the old group. It was clear their tension was wild.

Tony shook his head, "No, we were here first." Your eyes fell back to the group. It only took a moment before Sam nudged Steve, who stared right back at you. The rest of the group followed suit as you felt yourself being turned around. "Stop that, don't look at them."

"But we were before," You protested.

"And that's not now, so stop." Tony replied as you gave a small sigh.

After a few minutes, it wasn't hard to hear mumbles from the table. The only words you could clearly understand were Tony, unsuitable, and fucker.

That was all it took for Tony to jump off his chair and make his way to the booth. You found Clint's eyes, who looked just as shocked as you. The rest of you scrambled to follow.

"Don't you dare talk about me," Tony sneered, grabbing hold of Steve's collar.

Steve only smirked, "Can't take the hits to your ego?"

Vision put his hand on Tony's arm, "Let's just go, man." It hadn't been long since Tony and Steve had it out last, and that left them both bloody and blue with new marks in their records. "Let's go clubbing."

"No, I want to know what this shit-face said about me." Tony snarled, "So tell me, what'd you say?"

"Let go of him, Stark." Sam warned. "We don't want any problems tonight."

Clint kept you almost hidden behind him. While you were more than capable of taking care of yourself, you were still young. The youngest of both groups, actually. You were freshly twenty-two, Wanda was only twenty-four, but she'd been in this business much longer than you had.

"Well we're gonna have some if Rogers doesn't open his mouth." Tony responded.

"You wanna add some more blue to that face of yours?" Bucky chimed in. That was enough to break the camels back. It was no secret that if there was anyone Tony hated more than Steve, it was his best bud, Bucky. Bucky used to be a part of the mafia out on the west coast. In some off handed way, he was the reason your parents got themselves killed. Even if it wasn't Bucky's hands, Tony saw it as such. Deep down, you knew that wasn't his intentions.

Tony's fist was nearly about to hit Steve's face as you jumped forward, letting it hit your palm. The pain that shot through your hand made you wince as you tried to push Tony's hand back. "Tony, stop it. We're leaving now." Tony gave one last dark look to Steve as he turned on his heel, walking away with Bruce and Rhodey close behind him.

"Stark," Clint muttered as he grabbed your hand. "Let's go wrap this up." Vision was quick to move your arm close to your chest as his arm wrapped around you, guiding you away from The Avengers.

As you three walked away, you turned your head to see them staring at you three. No, they were just staring at you.

Back at the table, Wanda's eyebrows furrowed. "Are you okay?" She asked Steve with concern.

"I'm fine," Steve muttered, unable to peel his eyes from you.

"What?" Sam asked, noticing his lingering stare as the three of you exited the bar.

Steve shook his head, "She just took a full blown punch," He muttered under his breath.

"Probably broke her hand doing so," Natasha chimed in. "Did you see the power in that punch? She had to have at least sprained it."

Wanda screwed her face, "And Tony didn't even care. Didn't even give her a second glance."

A low hum came from Steve, "Did anyone ever meet her?" A collective head shake came from the booth.

“Didn’t Stark keep her locked away like Rapunzel?” Natasha asked, her curiosity officially peaked. “I don’t even really remember him mentioning her, besides the fact that he had a sister and she was younger.”

“I think he said she lived with their parents at the time,” Sam thoughtfully answered. “Out on the west coast. She moved here after they died, I think.”

Bucky spoke up, “But why’d she do that? She had no reason to take a hit for Steve.”

“Maybe she’s the only level headed person there,” Sam chuckled.

“Not well enough to keep them out of the mafia’s eyes,” Steve replied. “Stark’s got their attention, at least for now.”

Nat clicked her tongue, “He probably wants their help to get rid of us.”

With a small nod, Steve chided, “Which he won’t succeed in.”

“Can you bend your fingers? Move your wrist?” Clint asked carefully as Vision finished wrapping your hand. It hurt like absolute hell. It had to be sprained, maybe even broken.

You gave a hesitant reply as you tried to bend your fingers. “It hurts too much,” You shook your head. “I’m just gonna let it rest for now. I’ll try again soon. Thanks,” You mused to Vision as he gave a small smile, walking away with the medical kit.

“We need to get them back.” Tony said as he entered the room. “Rogers can’t pull some shitty stunt like that.”

Clint sighed, “Why don’t we just drop it for now? I thought the plan was to get the Asgardian Mafia to help us run them out, not kill them.”

“Killing them sounds wonderful,” Tony almost sang as he sat down. After a moment, he eyed your hand. “Hey, how’s that hand?”

You rolled your eyes, “Not great, thanks to you”

Tony’s face fell, “Hey, you shouldn’t have blocked my punch!” Tony angrily responded.

“You shouldn’t have started a fight in the middle of some bar we’ve never been to!” You argued in response. “It was stupid and it was reckless.”

“I’m gonna get the Hydra boys to fuck with them a little,” Rhodey announced from his spot on the couch where he was silently observing. “Maybe let them fuck ‘em up a bit.”

The Hydra boys were no good around here. They weren’t necessarily a gang, nor mafia. Maybe at one point they were, but now they were now just asses who loved to put their noses where they didn’t belong. The south had their own, too, called Shield. They were known to be more tolerable, less willing to do whatever anyone wanted. You had to know them to get their help.

“Don’t involve Hydra. They’re no good, really. I think they do more than they say they do.” Vision called out from the bathroom where he was putting away the medical kit.

“Then I’ll call The Guardians,” Rhodey shrugged. “They’ll do anything for an extra buck.”

Tony shrugged, “Fine with me, Quill’ll fuck them up really good. Make sure they all bleed, and tell Quill to get it on photo.” You got nervous at his words. Sure, tensions had been high lately, but it had never been this bad before.

Tony’s words made you reconsider everything that had been happening. Things were getting too serious too fast. Even worse, Tony no longer listened to your warnings. He was getting angrier by the second. Deep down, you knew things needed to change, and that started with helping the other side to gain some trust.

#bucky barnes #marvel fic #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagines #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #bucky fanfic #james bucky barnes #bucky

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hyper-fixated-delusions · 1 year ago

Text

Enemies of the Southside.

Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader.

A/N #1: This is a little different from what I’m used to writing, so please, go easy on me haha also there are some warnings further down so please check them out and if you are uncomfortable with what is mentioned, I advise you not to read.

A/N #2: I hope you enjoy and I apologize for any mistakes! Also comments, reblogs, shares and likes are super appreciated, thank you! :)

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence, blood, a knife, and choking. If you are not comfortable with any of these things, PLEASE DO NOT PROCEED.

Translation: “Sestra.” Sister.

Word count: 2,171.

Masterlist.

Being part of the Southside you knew not to wander deserted streets only illuminated by the moonlight, alone. But going home from your job required you to do such, and most times you weren’t worried, because sporting the leather jacket that you did gave you a sense of power that helped ease your mind.

But this night felt different.

This night you couldn’t help but feel like someone was following you, the realization causing a chill to run down your spine.

Cautiously picking up your pace, you make it about half way through the alley that leads you home, when you hear a voice suddenly whisper, “I’m sorry,” and you feel pairs of hands grab at your arms and legs, pushing at you as they pin you to a wall.

“Whoa, what the fuck! Let me go!” You shout as you squirm, trying to get out of the tight hold your are in. “Get the hell off me!” You say and continue squirming, until you feel a hand tightly squeeze around your throat. “Pietro?” You whisper, voice breaking slightly.

Pietro was your best friend that pledged allegiance to the Southside’s biggest gang when you were 15, he was one of the few people that initiated with you.

Which is why you’re so stunned to see him there, a black hoodie on his head and a pair of black gloves on his hands to match.

As your eyes dart around your perpetrators, you recognize a few more faces that you initiated with or you were once very close with and you can’t help the tears that spring to your eyes, causing Pietro to look at everything except you.

But once you manage to make eye contact with the silver haired boy you can see that your old best friend wants to do anything but hurt you and knowing firsthand how severe the consequences can be if he declines hurting you, you give him a slight nod as if to say, it’s okay.

Instantly regretting your decision when you see your ex-lover come out of the shadows, a blade in her hand.

“Hey! Wait, wait. No, no!” You scream, kicking your legs as hard you can to no avail, thinking you were going to endure at least a simple beating. Realizing a little too late that was not the case.

“Hold her tight,” Vision grits, hands tightening on your legs, and once they manage to subdue you he gives Wanda the command, “now go ahead Wanda, cut! Take off that damn disgracing tattoo!” He all but growls and your eyes widen as you realize what is about to actually happen.

As Wanda begins slowly making her way towards you, she makes eye contact with you and the green eyes that stare back at you are full of pain and despair, and your heartbreaks in your chest before the blade that she wields starts cutting into your skin as a way to remove the tattoo you sport on your right arm that you got when you were initiated into the Southside, a tattoo that represented what gang you were in.

“Please, stop!” You yell at the top of your lungs, your scream piercing the air.

A scream so chilling it would probably make a murderer rethink a killing, a scream so piercing it could make anyone go deaf.

But Wanda doesn’t stop, she can’t stop, even as her entire being protests she continues slicing. She continues slicing until the art you were sporting is off your arm and with that they let you go, your limp body falling to the ground with a harsh thud.

Thinking you’re dead you hear their footsteps as they run away once they’re done with you, and as you’re lying there losing consciousness, you hear someone crying.

“I’m so sorry, my love” the voice sobs, “I didn’t want to hurt you. I really didn’t, but I had to,” they say and you feel a hand softly caress your face.

“Wanda, please, we need to go, they’re going to come back to make sure she’s dead if we don’t leave right now,” another voice says.

“She’s dying now Piet, she is losing way too much blood! If we leave her here like this I won’t be able to live with myself if she dies,” the brunette sobs and Pietro quickly jumps into action, ripping a part of your shirt off to make a makeshift tourniquet to put around your arm to temporarily stop the bleeding.

“There Wanda, it’s the best I can do,” your old best friend says softly.

“She’s going to hate me Piet,” the brunette says affectedly.

“I know sestra, I know, she’ll hate us both,” he sighs sadly. “But we knew how grave the stakes could be when we pledged allegiance to the Northside, there is nothing we can do now but move forward. She may never understand why we did what we did, but she knows what these obligations mean to us, she too has her own.”

Wanda nods slightly, tears pouring down her face as she continues the caresses on your face a little while longer before completely pulling away, “I know she’ll understand why this happened, but by doing this to her, we are literally declaring war on the Southside P. There will definitely be hell to pay. I just hope she’s not in the crossfire, I’ve done enough damage today, I’d hate to see her get hurt even more than what has happened right now. I still love her you know,” you hear Wanda say.

“Well if you love her and still care about her then please, let’s go,” the silver haired boy pleads, “they’re going to get suspicious as to why we’re not with them and they’ll come back Wanda, they will, and if they see she’s still alive they might actually kill her, so we really need to go,” Pietro says anxiously.

Those being the last words you hear before their footsteps depart.

As you lay there still losing significant amounts of blood even with the tourniquet on your arm, you black out for a few minutes. Only waking up when you hear more footsteps making their way towards you and you begin dragging yourself on the ground, afraid that the Northsiders have come back to make sure you’re dead or that they’re back to do their job and actually kill you.

But when you hear a familiar voice call out your name, you know you're slightly safe and it isn't until you feel arms wrap around your weak frame and you take in the scent of a familiar cologne that you allow yourself to relax.

“Help! Nat, Steve, Tony! Please get in here and help!” A panicked Bucky yells, as he and Sam set you down on a nearby table, and in come the rest of the Southside’s strongest gang.

“Holy fuck, what happened?” You hear Yelena ask.

“Oh my god, Y/N!” Kate gasps.

“Give her space,” Natasha and Steve yell.

“Jesus Christ,” Tony says entering the room, “what in the hell happened?”

“I-I don’t know,” Bucky stutters, his hands shaking as he sees them full of your blood, “Sam and I were coming back home from the bar when we saw her bleeding out on the floor, we picked her up and came here as soon as possible,” the tall man says.

“Okay, it’s okay, calm down. Let me get a good look at her and I’ll call you guys back in a bit.” Steve says, handing the man a towel as they all walk out of the room.

While in the other room Kate and Yelena can’t stop their pacing due to the extreme worry they feel about not knowing your state. As the rest of the group sit and wait to be called in by their other friends and after several minutes of waiting Steve comes into the room.

“Hey guys, she’s stable, whoever put that makeshift tourniquet on her basically saved her life. You guys are more than welcome to come in and see her,” he says and as soon as the words leave his mouth all at once they go inside the room in which you are in.

“Hey Y/N/N,” Natasha whispers as she removes sweaty hair out of your eyes.

“Hey Natty,” you smile softly.

“Doll, what happened?” Bucky questions.

“It was the Northside,” you breathe and you swear you can see the moment everyone goes tense.

“Who exactly?” Sam asks angrily.

“I-I didn’t see their faces, it was too dark. I was just able to see their j-jackets,” you stutter.

“Bullshit Y/N!” Clint says, calling you out immediately, “who was it?”

“I-It was... Vision, Peter, America, and MJ,” you begin, listing off the names of the people that hurt you, but hesitating on mentioning two other names.

“And who else Y/N/N?” Yelena asks, eyes narrowing as she studies you, “I know you're holding back. Who else was there? Also, don’t even think about lying, we know you,” the girl says and you take in a deep breath.

“Please, don't make me do this," you whisper softly, voice full of emotion.

"Who else hurt you sweetie? We need to know, because they need to pay for what they did," Natasha whispers just as soft, her hand holding your own tenderly.

"Nat please, I love her," you say, tears rolling down your cheeks but nevertheless providing the names they are looking for, "Wanda. Wanda and Pietro also did this to me,” you say as you cast your eyes downward in shame and fear.

“Son of a bitch!” Yelena yells, kicking a nearby stool down, “are you kidding me?! The Maximoff twins did this you?! Oh, they are dead! Do you hear me? They are so dead!” She says, an anger welling in her eyes like you've never seen before.

“I’m with Yelena, they are dead! They want to mess with one of our own, I say we all go over there and kick their asses! Because this means war!” Kate says and everyone except Steve and Tony nod their head.

“No,” Steve begins, “we can’t do that,” the older man says calmly.

“What the hell do you mean Steve! So what? We’re just supposed to roll over and let this happen?” Bucky questions angrily.

“No Buck, we are not going to roll over. We are going to proceed with caution,” Steve continues just as calmly.

“Like hell! If we don’t do something now, they are going to think we are weak, and we are not weak! We can’t let them think we don’t care enough about our members to lie down and take this attack!” Clint yells and the rest of the gang start agreeing.

“Silence!” Tony yells, causing the members to seize their uproar, “Steve is right, we must proceed with caution. It is not ideal, I know, but we must,” he says. “I promise you, we will get our revenge. This heinous act of violence against the kid hurts us just as much as it hurts you. We are a family, we watch after each other so I will make sure we sort this out. But for now, our main priority is Y/N's health, we are so lucky she is here with us right now, so please, all of you go get some rest. It has been an emotional night. But I ask you, reserve this anger, reserve it for when we want to take action against these cowards.”

“As much as I hate to admit it," Natasha begins, "they're right. We are not thinking straight. We are thinking irrationally because we are angry, rightfully so. But we need a proper course of action so we can execute our plans, so for now let’s let Y/N rest, she’s endured enough tonight, goodnight.” Natasha says with finality and the gang huff but nonetheless oblige.

Once all but the three founding members have left, you look to Natasha, Steve and Tony, gratefully. “Thank you guys, for getting them to rationalize, I appreciate it,” you say softly, a small smile making it's way to your face.

“No problem Y/N. But please know, we do not take this attack on you lightly. I know you still love Wanda and care for Pietro, but this act of violence warrants a war, so be prepared for that. What they did to you today is only the beginning, a warning of what’s to come and I know you have history with the twins, but they knew what it meant when they agreed to do this to you and they will have to pay,” Steve says softly and you nod sadly, “now get some rest kid. We’ll see you tomorrow morning, we’re just so glad you’re okay,” he says a smile gracing his features as Natasha moves forward to place a soft kiss on your forehead and Tony nods at you with a small smile on his face.

Wanda, your ex-lover, now turned enemy has no idea what’s in store for her.

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wcsternnights · 1 year ago

Text

✦ ࣪ ˖ 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐳 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟...

𝐨𝐫...

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐳, 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫...

warnings : mentions of gangs, drug use, alcohol use, borderline smut

arabella perez walked her school halls, glancing from left to right and ignoring the fact that she had repetitively seen these people getting high off of god-knows-what the night before. it wasn’t uncommon for southside students to get fucked up the night before and return to school and act as if nothing happened, it was practically routine.

arabella figured that that was the saddest part. a community neglected by the government, left to fend for themselves and live off of microwaveable meals and adrenaline rushes. however, arabella never got herself involved in the gangs and drug abusers. she was raised by her mother, to never take a single substance ever. and she hadn’t.

a short squeal escaped her mouth as she was lifted from the ground from behind, a mouth clamped over her mouth and she violently kicked her feet, swinging them back into the crotch of her creeper.

“oh fuck, bella—“ the familiar voice of her boyfriend groaned. he had managed to pull her into an empty classroom before being assaulted by the heel of her beat-up converse. “my nuts, babe.” he winced as he keeled over, his hand gripping his joggers to, hopefully, relieve his pain.

“jesus, fuck, matt!” arabella cried out, placing a hand over her heart. she looked towards the door and saw two heads covering the window, shielding the two from the rest of the school — matts brothers.

they had taken it upon themselves to be the couples personal bodyguards. chris and nick tried desperately to convince their brother not to get romantically involved with arabella, but he couldn’t help himself. he was addicted to her. she was his drug.

“don’t scare me like that!” arabella scolded, smacking his shoulder roughly.

“hold on, slap me again in a second.” matt groaned, shuffling his legs around before cautiously returning to be standing up straight. “you got me good, ma.”

“shut your mouth.” arabella scoffed, grabbing the collar of his wife beater and bringing his lips to hers roughly. his hand moved to cradle the back of her head and the other rested on the small of her back, reaching lower and lower— “hey! we’re at school!” arabella reminded him.

she wouldn’t say she was innocent, because that really wasn’t the case, she just wasn’t as risky and wild as him.

“oh it’s fine, chris and nick are on the door.” matt smirked, amused by her fear of getting caught.

the couple stood for a few moments, hee glaring at him while he stared back cockily. she broke the silence.

“you still coming over tonight? my moms got a date… so we have the house to ourselves.” arabella bit her bottom lip and dragged her finger nails up matts tattooed arm, causing goosebumps to arise in his skin. “and, i get my test results back today, so if i’ve done good, i think i deserve a reward, don’t you?”

“oh yeah, um… about that—“ matt sighed, pursing his lips, as if annoyed himself. he looked over to where his brothers were standing in front of the door before returning his eyes to his girlfriend. “i can’t tonight, things are going on. family stuff.”

“oh.” arabella’s face fell, but she quickly recovered. “okay, never mind.”

she thought she had been very quick to hide her disappointment, but matt could read her like a book. “bels— come on.”

“no, it’s fine. don’t worry. we’ll just figure it out for another day.” she shrugged, and then the bell went. “gotta go, see you later.” she briefly kissed his cheek before slipping out of the room, greeting chris and nick as she departed.

“you tell her?” chris spoke up, watching as his brother walked out with an annoyed glare.

“what, that i couldn’t meet her tonight? yeah, and she’s upset about it, i can tell.” matt groaned, throwing his head back. “we haven’t seen each other alone for ages, man.”

“it’s for her own good, man.” chris patted matts shoulder. “i don’t even think you two should be together, you’re just putting her at risk.”

“as much as i love arabella, i completely agree.” nick backed up. “she doesn’t even know what you’re involved in, what we’re involved in, but it’s what’s best. be careful, kid.” he went left into a science classroom, leaving the two boys alone.

“i know you’re annoyed, but think about it.” chris sighed. “you decided to stay with her, you gotta deal with the consequences.”

“looking after her is not a consequence, you make it sound like loving her is a chore.” matt nudged his brother harshly.

“no, matt, you do.” chris replied, shaking his head. “constantly, all the time, i don’t want bella involved, i’m scared about dj finding out, what if she—“

“shut the fuck up.” matt gritted his teeth, “i’ve got it under control, stop being stupid.”

the house was deadly quiet as arabella sat on her couch, watching tv with a bored expression. she could only wonder what matt was doing right now. in fact, she was going to find out. she pulled out her phone and clicked on his contact, pressing the call button and bringing her phone to her ear.

“hey, can i call you back?” matts voice immediately spoke, sounding rushed and urgent.

“oh, i— okay?” arabella sounded slightly offended and her head recoiled at his tone.

“i’ll come by and see you when i’m done okay?” matt promised. “done with what?” arabella queried, furrowing her eyebrows as heard rustling in the background.

“i’ll see you later, baby. i love you.”

“i love you—“ the sound of the dial went and arabella frowned as she was hung up on. “too.”

later had now arrived, but matt hadn’t. arabella now sat in her room, wrapped in her blanket and staring at the ceiling. she decided that if matt wasn’t going to come to her house, she would find her own way to pass her time, and sleep was the only solution she could come up with. but it wasn’t coming to her as quickly as she thought it would.

a faint rapping noise came her window, and she furrowed her brows, turning her head in the direction of the glass, right beside her bed.

she peeled back her curtains and nearly jumped out of her skin as she was met with the face of her boyfriend. “fucking hell!” she mumbled, opening her window and allowing him to climb through.

she was about to shut her window when he reached outside and pulled a pair of shoes from her windowsill and threw them to the floor.

“you don’t like shoes on your bed.” matt grinned sheepishly, looking down at his sock-covered feet.

“that’s the second time today you’ve scared the shit out of me.” arabella frowned, crossing her arms in front of her chest and looking rather unimpressed.

matt leaned closer, one arm on either side of her body, his lips grazing the shell of her ear. “how about i fuck the shit out of you, instead?”

arabella bit down on her lower lip and sighed raggedly, before putting on a stubborn front. “you had your chance when my mom wasn’t home, but…”

“oh, come on, ma.” matt threw his head back before dropping it forwards, resting on her shoulder, his lips touching her collarbone.

the pair stayed in that position for a while, before matts hair tickled the side of her neck as he shifted, his lips delicately dragging along her olive skin, pressing gentle, open-mouthed kisses to her collar bone, making his way up her neck.

“matt.” she sighed, her hands rising to rest in his hair as they fell back, her hair splayed out behind her on a pillow.

he hummed in acknowledgment, their lips now grazing each other. she leaned forwards, in an attempt to kiss him, but he pulled back before leaning in again, taking her plump bottom lip between his teeth and letting it go, watching it bounce slightly.

he then placed a passionate kiss to her lips, his fingers shifting to rest on her clothed hips. unknown to him, she was wearing an oversized t-shirt and black pants, but he wouldn’t figure that out until his hands travelled — which they eventually did. they always did.

his slender fingers traced the curve of her thighs and disappeared beneath the material of her shirt, grasping at the bare skin of her hips, his thumb playing with the waist band of her underwear.

he pulled away from her face and looked at her, she was quick to defend herself, “what? it’s hot tonight.”

he shrugged before kissing her again, his hands roaming her body and pushing her shirt further up, nearly revealing her bare chest to him, but she was quick to halt his actions.

“hold on, is this your way of making it up to me?” arabella scoffed, sitting up and pulling her shirt back over her legs. “you rain check me and then basically decline my call as soon as i spoke. you think a bit of make-up sex will fix it?”

“no, this is only part of it.” his hand raised to meet her cheek, his delicate thumb swiping across her cheekbone. “this is your reward for the test you did. i’m taking you out on a date tomorrow to make up for missing tonight.”

“speaking of, how was the test?” his face disappeared as he buried it in the crook of her neck, his teeth pulling at her skin.

she gasped sharply, and played with the hair on the back of his neck. “what?”

“your test.” his voice was mumble against her skin, but came clearer as he pulled away, only to remove her shirt from her small frame, making herself vulnerable to him. he was quick to place his lips and teeth against her chest. “how was it?”

“it was um… it was good?” she gulped, trying her best to stay composed. “i got 89%”

matt returned his lips to hers, tilting his head and looking impressed. “did you now?”

she hummed and nodded, solidifying her answer. “31 out of 35.”

“my smart girl.” he mumbled, diving his head down to press kisses against her chest and down to her stomach, looking up at her through hooded eyelids. “keep talking about your day, or i’ll stop.”

arabella nodded and let her head relax back onto her pillow, staring up at her plain ceiling, but the feelings she got from matt were everything but plain.

“the test was about religion and shit. but then i got told i have a— fuck.” she paused her speech to indulge in matts pleasure. “maths test next week, not really excited about that.”

“you want me to tutor you?” his words vibrated against her, making her screw her eyes shut.

“you? matt sturniolo? tutor me? you’re funny.” arabella laughed, rolling her shoulder as she got more comfortable.

“oh, fuck you.” matt scoffed, slapping the outside of her thigh.

“are you not going to?” arabella teased, looking down at him.

he rolled his eyes and pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh, before returning to his previous tongue-lapping actions.

the rest of the night was pleasurable and love-filled, as arabella’s head rest on matts chest when all was done and cared for. his hand ran through her hair softly, dragging it up to the air and letting it fall back down. the relaxing movements and tiresome activities arabella had just indulged in, was enough to send her straight to sleep. matt looked down at her lovingly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and wrapping both arms around her frame tightly, careful not to wake her.

“i love you, bella.”

a/n

hey yall… i plan on making this a little mini series cuz i love the idea of triplets being dealers or stoners. like it’s so fun to me😭😭 the ending was borderline smut but i’m too scared to write it fully help💀

#matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #the sturniolos #matt sturniolo smut

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soraviie · 2 years ago

Text

maniac.oneshot

━ type: yoongi x f! reader ━ masterlist ━ word count: 3k

━ about: He comes here to look for medicine. Here in this scornful embrace of yours.

━ c/w: violence, blood, patching someone up, stitches, needles , absolutely unhinged, obsessive Yoongi + (sort of) morally grey reader; she doesn't like him much

━ leave a comment and show this fic some love otherwise I'll steal your food. If you like my work and want to tip, here's my ko-fi. Thank you so much if you do!

There’s a quiet rapping at the window pane that doesn't come as a surprise. It’s well dark outside, some ungodly minute after three in the morning. You know who it is.

You hope he leaves.

You hope he just disappears and that once he does breathing will become a bit easier.

But since it is him, you should have known that such a simple, soft thing as silence wouldn’t be enough of a deterrent.

Hearing the unsubtle “shit!” and a loud, body like thud crashing against the blue glazed tiles of your god-awful kitchen, you flinch beneath the covers, weighing the option of just ignoring yet another visit of his. Two years of his indulged insanity, of his rotting hands infecting everything he brushed past.

Two years of him rotting you whole.

And who wouldn't be sick of that? Day and night going around and around, and around?

But if you knew Yoongi at all, you also knew the fact he’d make your night a living hell. He’d all but drag you out of this bed by your ankles if that's what it'd take to get your attention.

So who was this man — Min Yoongi?

With a sigh and eye roll, you push the twin duvets off, yearning for their warmth in the otherwise chilly air.

Min Yoongi was a thief, a killer, always choosing violence, face so pretty with heart so hard you'd think he was stone-carved, and, unfailingly, unflinchingly —

You pad towards the kitchen door finding him laughing deliriously on the tiled floor, blood spilling all over his beaten mouth.

— insane.

“Why did you fix your window?” he whines in a sort of tone of voice that should not be admissible to anyone within his line of…work. But Min Yoongi could get away with it because he could get away with anything. Murder. Mayhem. His vile, repulsive nature.

“I broke it so perfectly. Could slip in an’ out. Like butter.”

“Maybe that’s why I fixed it,” dryly, you respond, crossing your arms around the chest. Thankfully, the fluffy bathrobe is covering enough.

“And by the end of the night you’ll have two fucked up windows,” he says, throwing a thumb back at the damage. The hinges are completely broken, letting in torrents of frigid air. “Is that so much better?”

“What the fuck you want?”

“Jesus, can’t a man get some lovin’ anymore round these parts?” he rolls his eyes, gliding a tongue over his battered lips. “Need you to work your magic, darling.”

“Get your magic at the corner,” you throw your head in the general direction of the main street, staring derisively as he once again makes himself at home in your kitchen. Rifling through cupboards and your fridge like he owns it. In his mind he does. He owns this apartment, someday he’ll own the southside gang and, more importantly, he owns you. Not in some distant, probable future, no. Here. Now.

At least in the sick, fucked up world of his.

“Why don’t you ever have anythin’ good in?” he pokes his head into the fridge, flicking a finger at the aged milk bag only to let the doors fall shut with a dragged out sigh of discontent. As you continue to stand, hovering disinterestedly in the doorway, his eyes find yours, lighting up in childish, deeply unsettling amusement.

“You jealous?”

“If someone would shoot you in the fucking head right now, I’d go to a club.”

“You like clubs that much?”

“Fucking hate them.”

Had anyone in this entire side of the city that's dying like an infected roadkill would see you badmouthing Min Yoongi, The Min Yoongi who stabbed a guy with a pair of chopsticks and ate with them not an hour later, they’d revere you as some kind of insanely hardened criminal but you knew something they did not. Oh, how he enjoyed you being harsh towards him. It drove him buck wild. He got off to your contempt and as long as he did, you were safe. He comes here to look for medicine. Here in this scornful embrace of yours as paradoxical as it sounds. In these four, discrete walls, an act of reckless bravery was actually nothing but sheer cowardice. You knew it and Yoongi knew it, hence why every time he broke into your apartment, over and over, and over, and over again, it always felt like coming home.

Or so he said.

The soles of his shoes scuff against the floor as he comes to stand before you, your nose immediately itching with the acrid smell of a cigarette smoke. He always had some accursed cheap brand that got everywhere and soaked up into fabrics like liquid. Words didn't describe how much you hated it.

“Come on,” he goads you on, leaning down to your eye level with a wicked grin. “Isn’t it a doctor's duty to treat everyone in need? Your boy's very much in need,” smugly, he spreads his arms, spinning around so you can inspect the damage. Your tongue just burns to scorn that he can’t be fixed, he can’t be treated with anything else other than death but even you wouldn’t go that far.

Tonight’s damage, however, did go quite over the lines. His face is busted, there’s a faint limp in the already off way he moves and the back of his jacket has a long slash akin that of a carving knife. Even if it didn’t cut up his spine, there’s no way the flesh underneath it laid unharmed.

“Didn’t you give that hypocritic oath?”

“It’s hippocratic,” sharply, you correct but naturally it only broadens the curve of Yoongi's smile. “And veterinarians don’t give those, you dumb shit!"

Almost instinctively, his head tips backwards. Shuddering, he groans with a deep sigh of content underneath the pale blue lights of your home.

"Fuck, how I like that temper of yours."

"I should just kill you."

But the threat is measly and Yoongi only chuckles hearing it. Pulling a chair out, he comes to sit down upon it, feigning some kind of obedience as he gazes up at you, expectantly. He’s waiting for you to fix him, for you to “kiss it all better” as he put it. As if the skin on your hands didn’t burn just by grazing him.

“Oh, come on,” he tugs at the end of your bathrobe belt, nimble fingers working their way up to the knot. You slap them away. “You lick my wounds, I lick yours.”

“I don’t have any wounds,” you grumble but for some unknown reason you give in, making the move to retrieve your first aid kit. He used it so much, by now you had to replace it thrice.

You didn’t have to, a quiet voice at the far reaches of your skull interject. You could have just run out and let it be the end of that.

“Yeah, sure,” you hear him snort under the breath.

But since you hate that voice, you don’t listen to it and mindlessly push the whole of blame onto him. He wouldn’t just shove off if you told him you had no tools. He’d just bring his own. The man did systematically break down the security on your bedroom window for the sole reason of annoying you in the middle of the night. Yoongi doesn't just leave. He’s like a ghost that way, endlessly haunting you on.

By now the routine is somewhat rehearsed, he moves his head where he must, doesn’t so much as wince when the peroxide hits the mangled flesh. As he peels of his shirt, spouting some bullshit about you being excited that ends in a sharp hiss as you clean it, your suspicions are proven correct. There is a gash all over his back. Not so deep that you couldn’t mend it but enough to leave a crusted up trail behind. You clean it nicely and add a generous amount of medical tape. Normally you’d tell someone to take it easy and not strain the place of injury but it’s Yoongi and in less than fifteen hours, he’ll be either going on another raid with his cronies or dunking some poor soul underneath the waterline. Such was his nature.

You tip his head to face the ugly light of the overhead lamp, frowning as you do. Instead of the wide, even…innocent looking eyes Yoongi gives you, you focus on the wound on the side of his head.

“A bat?” you hum and he blinks, appearing to only now remember all about it.

“Oh, yeah, a lowlife piece of shit swung at me. Real nasty.”

He laughs.

You don’t see what’s funny about that.

“It’ll need stitches,” you draw a weary sigh. Stitches were gross. No matter how many times you applied them, human or animal, there was something inherently queasy about the way a skin had to be pierced and woven together like a fleshy fabric.

“I have some vodka...?”

Already half expecting some flippant, inane quip about you wanting to get him drunk and take advantage of his poor soul, because he would be the type to make a joke like that, you’re startled to feel both of his arms wrap around your waist, cheek coming to rub against your stomach.

“Nah, this will get me through plenty.”

If he’d be a cat, he’d be purring.

You mouth your “what the fuck”, largely for a peace of mind and just do what you must, swallowing down the rising bile as the wound begins bleeding the second the needle touches the raw flesh. His arms embrace you like a vice but for all intents and purposes, he’s even smiling as you hurt him.

What a broken man he was.

“There,” some forty minutes later you slam the aid kit onto the rickety table. “You’re all better. Leave.”

“Just tossing a guy out on the street,” he begins to complain loudly and frightfully, you shush him. If the neighbours hear his voice flowing unmistakably from the confines of your apartment, they’ll oust you.

But did it really matter that much anymore?

With a devious sparkle in the eye, he tosses a glimpse towards you and not a second later, you feel a wet tongue glide over your palm.

Hastily, you pull it away.

“That’s fucking disgusting!”

“You lick mine, I lick yours,” his grin spreads in an open mouthed expression. You’d seen it once before. Only, of course, he’d slammed some dude’s head against the table then. Blood and teeth had spilt that night and only by luck did the noodles that you’d been eating just seconds prior didn’t spill back from your guts. After finishing beating the guy halfway to death, he’d found you shrinking on the dirty ground of the local uncle’s open air bistro.

“Ey, why you kneeling in the dirt for?” he cooed with such a thoroughly pleasant tone as blood pooled underneath his feet that even to this day you couldn’t help but shiver. “You’re dirtying your dress, pretty!”

He yanked you roughly up by the shoulders, fingers digging so deep they left bruises though you hadn’t felt it at the time. Your gaze sat in horrified fixation upon the dying man who whimpered softly by the broken tables. With some muted curiosity, the psychopath followed your stare.

“Ah, that shithead?” he crooned. “Are you going to be a hero and call an ambulance to help him?”

You didn’t answer, both not being able to as your breath stuttered so hard you feared you’d pass out any second and also assuming the question was rhetorical.

“You deaf or something?” he shook you rudely. “Come on, lucky, speak! Roll over!”

“I-I will,” at last you struggled out and his eyebrows inched a place higher.

“He’s a drug dealer, you know,” Yoongi's voice barely reached your ears but even so you were taken aback by its smoothness. It was almost more sickening than if he just had one of the terribly stereotypical gangster. “Has killed dozens. And you don’t want to let him die?”

“It-it’s n-not about him,” you panted, nerves going into haywire the longer the man kept lying unconscious. He will die. And soon if nothing changed. “I just don’t want to feel guilty.”

For a second Yoongi’s eyes had widened. He genuinely had not expected such an answer from you.

A moral, upright person would answer that every life was precious. That you were not a judge of whether he should live or die but the truth was far more brutal — you didn’t care about him.

You cared about yourself.

And this facade of goodness.

He tipped his head back and roared into a peel of loud laughter that startled you so horridly, you threw yourself backwards against the red bistro desk, knocking it over in the process.

“You’re a funny one,” still gasping for breath, he reached into the pocket of his blue jacket and proceeded to put a bright tangerine in your hands. Once he forcefully pried them open, that is. “Let’s see each other around, a’ight?”

Well, anyways that man did in fact live. Disfiguredly but live he did. The tangerine sat bright and sweet, shone by the dual colours of the disinterested police. Naturally there was no investigations, the witnesses mysteriously never came forth and while the uncle was displeased with his business being splattered with blood, even he didn't protest much. In the end, when in Rome do what Romans do. Conceal the murder attempt. Don't be a hero.

The tangerine had sat on your bedside table for a week, mocking you in echoes of his roughened laughter. You threw it away after that.

And word by word, it all unfolded to this. To Min Yoongi you were made of the same bone he was and you needed but a scratch. Like a lottery ticket, he’d scratch at you and you’d stop pretending you didn’t fit in this carousel of violence and greed.

And maybe he was right. Maybe with the right scratch you would fold. But a woman has the same ability to forge her path ahead as anyone else and only you decide to choose who you are even if it was an utter lie.

You rouse from your thought and Yoongi’s expression is oddly still. In moments such as these you truly doubted he was genuinely, clinically insane. In moments like these you suspected there was calculation in the madness but even if there was, no point caring about it now.

Min Yoongi was about to be exorcised.

He fishes a tangerine out of the pocket and with a deep rumble in the voice offers it to you.

"Want one?"

"I'm good."

Abruptly, Yoongi stretches, most likely immediately ripping at the wound on his back and joyfully chirps. The tangerine he chucks behind the shoulder where it carelessly rolls towards the corner of the table.

“I’m beat and your bed is so nice. I’ll stay here for a night.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Oh, calm down,” he brushes off, pushing the chair back. You liked to keep your things neat as long as he was here, Yoongi made sure to respect that. You didn’t quite know how to feel about that.

“I’ll keep all the parts to my fine self. Even if I promise you’d see God if only you let me,” he winks, letting his tongue stick out. You don’t grace him with a response whilst a sheen of sweat builds at the back of your neck.

“No, really, you’re not staying here.”

As a desperate prevention measure, you place yourself firmly between Yoongi and the rest of the apartment. His eyebrows knit together while the mouth loops in a confused smirk.

“What? You can’t control yourself that hard?”

As you fail to reply, his amusement slips.

“Is there someone in your bed?” he sneers. “I’ll kill them. Don’t give a shit who they are.”

Yoongi pushes past you but there is no one either in your bed nor in your apartment. Nothing but piles upon piles of stained, brown boxes.

He comes to a sudden halt, literally stuck mid-step as his gaze flits over the impersonal appearance of your home, cheek growing increasingly terrifying.

“You’re moving,” at last, he mumbles in a numb, impersonal tone, slowly turning around. Pinned like a bug underneath a microscope, you begin to shuffle anxiously from one foot to another.

“I accepted a job offer. I’m leaving tomorrow.”

His eyes narrow dangerously.

“Tomorrow,” Yoongi echoes, voice falling terribly low. “And you didn’t think to inform me?”

You swallow and muster up the splatter of nerves still left in your body.

“Why should I?”

“Do you still have that dream of a proper clinic?” he suddenly spits. “Of all the fucking white coats and nice puppies?”

“So what if I do?” spitefully, you snap back. “Am I not allowed? Does the great Min Yoongi not allow me to dream?”

The palms previously resting by his thighs curl into fists and he gasps a deep, trembling inhale, clearly struggling to contain his explosive anger.

“In a month’s time I’ll take over the gang,” he growls, lip's twitching in annoyance. “I’ll kill that fucking old bastard with my bare hands and rule this part of the city.”

“I don’t see how that's rel—”

“I’ll give you your fucking clinic.”

Your mouth runs dry but inspecting him from head to toe you don’t find a hint of amusement on his face. The darks of his eyes almost appear…earnest. If only you would believe them.

“We’ll make it all proper, put up bunch of smiling signs and shit,” he continues on, growing only more confident with each word. “And if no one comes, there’s plenty of dogs in the gang. Jungkook alone has like 500. You can doctor them all day long.”

A long drag of silence washes over you when he stops talking and though it takes you a while you do speak and with pride, you can vouch that your voice does not shake.

“I don’t want that.”

“Fucking SHIT!” he curses sharply, taking a lunging step towards you. His teeth are gritted and his gaze is insane but the eyes…his eyes are wet.

“Are you that fucking bolstered up your fucking moral high horse? Are you that obsessed with accepting broken things that search you for a cure?!”

“I accepted you, didn’t I?”

It’s almost funny…well, no, it’s not funny at all. You’ve seen all sides of him. Min Yoongi the thief, the killer, the psychopath but never just Min Yoongi — a man. A man with a heart, a man with feelings other than hate and twisted carnal pleasure at the suffering of others. You saw it, just now in the fleeting point between one second and the next, you saw him, bare and devastated like a kitten out in the cold and then it’s gone and you’re fairly sure that because of you that part won't ever appear again

“I’m sick of men like you, no, men in general telling me what I can or cannot do,” evenly, you conclude your train of thought but it’s unclear whether Yoongi hears it at all. Both his gaze and face are blank and the fists have uncurled, his arms laying listlessly by the side. With one clean punch, you knocked the fight out of him.

No pride comes because of it.

“I’ll choose who I am and where I go and you’ll have no say in it.”

He stands utterly silent before you, the shaggy black hair falling down like a curtain — obscuring his eyes. That stupid flowery shirt flows in the slight breeze he’d created by breaking your kitchen window.

Then he smiles.

It’s empty.

And you shudder.

“You know, darling," he coos, lips forming a deceptive pout. There's not a trace of warmth on his face. "You should never show your pretty face back here ever again.”

The tone is the same as it had when you first met him on that dreadful night. Pleasant.

He stalks past you with languid, considerate steps and opens the busted window like he’s done dozens of times before, climbing over the ledge. Your heart is in your throat and only now you grasp how fast it’s racing.

He’s almost gone but because it’s him, Yoongi makes sure you hear it before he drops down in the otherwise empty dark. The faint yellow light of the streetlamps outside etch long, menacing shadows upon his face but even so you think that he’s grieving somewhere underneath his own facade.

“Though if we meet outside...I ain't making any promises.”

tagging: @pinkcherrybombs; @devilsbooksworld; @btsiguess-kpop; @belladaises; @halesandy; @seok-jinnies; @themochiverse; @cuteipat; @ratherbefangirling; @manchuria; @chimchimmarie; @smalliechelle; @koostarcandy; @flitzerj; @royallyjjk; @dreamamubarak; @anti-social-mochi267; @jung-nika-hoseok; @silverliningsandstorms; @ahewlett

#yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi x y/n #yoongi angst #bts angst #yoongi oneshot #bts oneshot #yoongi haegeum au #yoongi drabble #bts drabble

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myocsfanfictions · 1 year ago

Text

South Side Story

Shameless Fanfiction Season 1

Desna Hills has come living in the Southside of Chicago four years before. Taken in by Kev and V, Desna is close friends with the Gallaghers. Let's see how this Southside story unfolds.

MASTERLIST

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Chapter 6

“Desna, the man at that table has been waving for you for five minutes.”

“Thanks Tommy,” Desna said sarcastically, glaring at one of the Alibi regulars as she passed by, with three beers in her hands, “Why don’t you put on an apron and start to serve?” She said as she tell Kevin to get others two beers and a shot of vodka ready, then she move again to make her way towards the table where the guy was waiting.

“And since you are at it, another three beers!” She heard Tommy said.

That day the Alibi was packed with people, she didn’t know where to turn. Desna has been working three hours and still didn’t had a single moment even to go to the bathroom.

“Girly! Give me my beer!” She heard the voice of Frank Gallagher as he entered the Alibi, already drunk.

“I’m sure you’ll find your sit alone,” she said as she walked towards the counter, “Kevin!”

“I’m on it bug,” he said as he was filling other glasses of beer, before getting one ready for Frank.

“Hey sweety, where’s my shot?” Mickey Milkovich shout at her surrounding by his gang as he showed her his empty glass.

“Don’t call me that,” she said as she passed by, grabbing some empty glasses to bring them back at the counter.

“You are doing great,” Kev said happily when he passed behind her squeezing her shoulder.

“Glad to hear,” she answered filling some more glasses to bring to Milkovich.

“Another!” Frank shouted, and Desna gave him one of the shots she had in hand.

“I wanted beer,” he complained.

“It’s alcohol and Kev is taking ice,” she said for the countless time to bring the glasses she had prepared, “Enjoy it while he gets back.”

“Hey, love, my cousin wanted to know if your free later,” Mickey asked eyeing the boy next to him, sharing a laugh.

“I don’t think so,” she stated walking back hearing them laugh again.

“Can I offer you something?” She was ready to snap back when she noticed that who had made the question was Lip. As she saw him, Desna’s body relaxed and from her lips escaped a laugh.

“I can’t drink, sir,” she said smiling at him, “But for you I’d make an exception.”

“Oh yeah?” Lip smirked, but then Tommy called for her once again.

“Three more beers?” She asked as the man pointed at him and his companions, “Right on it!” She said before turning to Lip.

“Are you looking for Frank?” She asked pointing behind her back.

“Why? Is he here?” He answered with a frown, that made her chuckle.

“Desna!” Tommy called again, and she groaned before making her way to the counter, to fill new glasses. She noticed that Lip had gotten closer to the counter as Kev walked out from the back.

“Where were you?” Desna asked, “Couldn’t you find the way back?”

“I was about to give you five minutes of break,” he said and her eyes grew bigger.

“You took the time that it was needed,” she said sweetly.

“That’s what I thought,” he said as Desna smiled, before walking to Lip.

“Are you here for drink?” She asked him.

“Umm… no,” at his answer she took his hand bringing pulling him along side her as she exited from the back of the bar. Finally breathing as the cool air hit her face.

“Busy night, eh?” Lip said giving her a sigarette that she gladly took, quickly lighting it up.

“Everyday is a good day to drink,” she said taking a drag before passing it to him, who brought the sigarette in his mouth, “But it seems that they decide when be a pain in the ass all together.”

Lip laughed as he passed the thing to her once again.

“Why are you here?” She asked taking a drag.

Lip shrugged his shoulders, “Passing by,” he said and Desna nodded her head, blowing out the smoke.

“Are you free this Thursday, in the afternoon?” He asked her.

“There’s the game,” that Thursday Kevin was organizing the bar so to make it possible to see the game with the costumers, “Kev still didn’t ask me to help though, why?” She tilted her head to a side, observing him putting his hands in the front pockets of his jeans.

“Fiona is organizing this thing where we are going to instal the new TV,” he explained, “Steve is coming, and she wants to ask V too.”

She frowned in curiosity “Then why did you want to ask me-”

“Told you, I was passing by,” he shrugged his shoulders. And she found herself nodding her head.

“If Kev doesn't ask for my help, I can make it,” she said throwing the sigarette on the ground and stepping on it with her foot.

“Yeah?” Desna nodded with a smile.

“Okay,” he said, giving a glance at the door before walking towards her. In a moment his lips were on hers and his arms around her waist. She was surprised by the action, but she didn’t complain as she brought her arms around his neck, bringing him close. He slowly pushed towards the wall, until her back hit the wall.

“Not here,” she muttered against his lips, then she noticed his gaze being deep in thought, and she brought her hand on his cheek.

“What is it?” She asked caressing his skin.

“I should…” he said, “I should really bring Karen too.”

“What?” She asked pushing him back, slightly.

“Yeah, no I mean, you’re both my friends, so,” he stuttered, “And-”

“You’re fucking both of us,” she challenged him, as she moved away from him.

“We said no jealousy,” he said, “You two are different,” but that made her laugh bitterly.

“No, I don’t think so,” she said as he shrugged his shoulders.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

Desna shook her head, putting her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, “Listen, do whatever you want, I don’t fucking care.”

“Are you angry now?” He asked making her stop as she was about to get back in.

“I don’t know..” she said sarcastically, “What if next time I bring the other guy that I’m fucking?”

“You’re not fucking anyone else,” he protested.

“Yeah,” Desna said, “Maybe I should.”

“Oh, come on!” Lip said stopping her by the arm, but she snapped it away.

“Why bring it up now?” She asked challenging him, who just scoffed.

“I thought about it, I said it,” he said simply.

“Bullshit!” She said and he laughed annoyed, pacing as he passed his hand on his mouth, “Why do you always do this?” Desna asked.

“Doing what?” He argued.

“Last time you brought me with you to see your so called friend suck your brother, because, what was it?” She said mockingly, “I don’t have to fear Karen. So, what? It is her turn now?”

“Karen is my fucking best friend, Desna!” He argued with low voice.

“Then what does this makes me?” She yelled at him. And she noticed his jaw clench. They observed each other in silence, they could even hear the voices from the inside of the bar as they kept staring.

“I don’t want things to change between us,” Desna laughed at that.

“You can’t even answer a question,” she said turning her back at him ready to get back in, but then he grabbed by the arm pulling her so that she would face him.

“This,” he answered and she scoffed, “We are this.”

“Not my question,” she answered shaking her head, “Let me fucking go.”

“Why do you have to complicate everything?” He asked angrily, his hand still gripping her arm.

“Why can’t you answer a fucking question?” His jaw clenched again looking at her, “What is this uh? You’ve got a label for her but not for me, Lip?” she said pushing his shoulder with her free hand, his jaw even more clenched. She shoved him again, “She is your best friend, then what am I?!”

His other hand moved blocking her other wrist yanking her closer, “A good fuck,” he hissed. Desna eyes widened, before she pushed him, freeing herself, then her hand moved to slap him across the face.

“Fuck you,” She said coldly. His eyes widened, just before the door of the bar got opened by Kev.

“Bug, I need you help over there,” he said before looking between the two of them, “Are you guys okay?”

“Yeah,” she answered keep looking at Lip, “He was going home,” the boy observed her as he wanted to say something, but Desna turned her back at him, pushing past Kevin to go back to work.

Fucking Lip Gallagher.

A good fuck! She was a fucking good fuck! That’s all he wanted from her? Karen Jackson was his best friend, she was just a good fuck? Then he wouldn’t have mind her doing the same. She enter the hall, grabbing a shot of techila and swallow it whole, before she made her way towards Milkovich table.

“Look who’s here!” Mikey said, but she turned to the boy to his left.

“You wanted to know if I was free after, right?” She asked at the boy, who nodded his head, “Fine, my shift ends at 11.00, hope you’ve got somewhere we can fuck,” she didn’t even gave him time to answer, as she get back swallowing another shot of tequila.

******

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