#this is not the kind of off the rails ramble i tend to post. it's waayyyyyyyy more off the rails for one. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jungkxook · 3 years

Text

—hot boy bummer. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ genre: fuckboy!jungkook / friends with benefits / friends to lovers + smut

⟶ words: 14,633

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ summary: when jungkook offers you a proposition of just sex, no strings attached, how can you possibly say no? after all, what are best friends for?

⟶ warnings: kind of a crack fic, sprinkle of angst, way too casual conversations mid-sex, jealous jungkook, slight himbo jungkook tbh (he’s kind of a sweet loveable idiot), he also has a big dick oops, man bun and blonde jungkook to feed my fantasies!, multiple smut scenes!!!, missionary, dry humping, oral sex (m receiving), face fucking, unprotected sex, slight degradation (mostly jungkook hating himself), brief name calling, light choking, sort of praise kink

⟶ note: this was inspired by a number of things but mainly do me by kim petras being on jungkook’s spotify playlist, this tiktok sound, and this tumblr post lol also big thank you to @bratkook and @onherwings for letting me ramble on about this fic and reigniting my inspo for it 💛

( p.s. i tried to proofread this but if y’all see any typos no u didn’t, thank u <3 )

Being friends with Jungkook meant a myriad of things but mainly that there were hardly ever any boundaries that stood between you and him.

Having known him for most of your life, it was just a quintessential part of yours and his relationship with one another. From high school parties where you drunkenly spewed on his shoes and in his dad’s car after he tried lugging you home (and taking the fall all himself for your sake) to letting him lose his virginity in your bed to some girl you didn’t know because your parents were out of town and his would crucify him on the spot if they had found out; or him discovering your stash of vibrators in your dorm one day, or seeing each other naked more often than was probably necessary, there was nothing that either of you could do that would phase the other at this point even when it maybe, probably, definitely should.

College, and Jungkook’s sudden six pack of hard rock abs, only seemed to amplify the chaos of your friendship. If you’re being honest, the abs are sort of a plus ━ but they brought an air of fuckboy to him that is undeniably there even if he tries to deny it sometimes. You suppose it isn’t all his fault. Jungkook has always been bold and brash, attractively charming. Considering he’s seemingly made it his mission to sleep with every girl on campus before he graduates (undisclosed, if you’re being honest, because he’s never outwardly admitted it but you have a hunch), his confidence somehow hasn’t failed him yet.

But then there’s one night in which you think to yourself briefly: this surely must draw some sort of line.

“What if we, like, had sex?”

Jungkook says this a little too casually from beside you. He’s sat on the couch in his dorm, scrolling aimlessly on his phone, and you’re sprawled out on the remaining space, feet kicked up in his lap. You’re positive he’s drunk but, then again, so are you. The remnant shot glasses of soju you had both started the night with (though you think Jungkook’s had half the bottle himself), and your second glass of wine, are all evidence of that. You’re so absorbed by some anime Jungkook had been watching upon your arrival and refused to change that you almost don’t hear what he says. Almost. You do, however, nearly choke on the gummy bear you’ve just tossed into your mouth.

After a sudden hysterical fit of coughs, you manage to sputter, “Excuse me?”

“Like, hypothetically speaking.” He hardly budges when you turn to gawk at him, as if he’s asking you something as casual as what to eat for dinner or if you could pass him the T.V. remote. “Except, not really hypothetically.”

“You’re joking, right?” You scoff.

Jungkook blinks. “No. Why would I be joking?”

You blink. The longer you stare at him, the quicker you’re able to discern that there’s some sort of earnesty in his words and it slightly concerns you. Suddenly, you’re warm in the face. To distract from that painfully obvious fact, an incredulous laugh bubbles at your lips and you kick one of your feet at his thighs. “Very funny, Koo. Can we change the show now if you’re not even watching it?”

“I’m not joking, Y/N.” The severity in his tone makes you sit up at once. When you turn to look at him, he flashes you a taunting smirk, though the devious sparkle in his eyes lets you know this seems to be anything but a joke to him. “I’m sure you’ve thought of me naked before.”

“You’re such a fucking idiot━” Okay, so maybe you have thought of him naked before but how is it your fault when you literally have seen him naked before, and he’s so unabashed around you? “Should I bring you to a hospital to get your head checked, or━?”

“Just hear me out━” Now, he pushes himself to the edge of the sofa. “Why are you here right now?”

“In life? Because I honestly have no clue━”

“No, I meant here. Getting drunk in my apartment on a Friday night instead of getting railed.”

“Okay, I didn’t ask to get called out like that,” You grumble stiffly. “And because you’re my best friend, and I like spending time with you.” It’s not entirely a lie, because you would much rather spend time with Jungkook than anyone else. But when you feel his eyes boring into you in a look of scrutiny, your lips form into a pout which you try to hide by puckering them. “Also because boys are stupid and Hoseok’s blind date stood me up. Again.”

The events from hours earlier resurface in your memory, in which you had spent all evening making yourself look pretty for a boy you had only talked to through text that your roommate had introduced you to, only to arrive to the restaurant you were supposed to be meeting at and waiting there for half an hour by yourself before the boy had sent you a message saying something along the lines of “something came up, hope we can reschedule,” filing it under one of the lamest excuses you’ve ever heard because it hardly even borders on a valid excuse. It’s what had ultimately made you storm into Jungkook’s apartment an hour ago, exclaiming aloud as a greeting with a simple yet scarily cheerful I hate men! because Jungkook knows all about your plights with finding a significant other (or even just someone decent enough to open your legs to), usually lamenting men’s inability to have any emotions. Even the ones who you think are respectable enough, who say they’re fine not having sex on the first date, usually tend to flee right after you finally let them in because sex, as you come to find, seems to be all that men care about.

Admittedly, Jungkook is not any different.

“But it’s not like you’re any better.”

This seems to personally offend Jungkook. He looks at you cynically. “Me?”

“Tell me why you’re here with me on a Friday night when you’re literally one of the hottest guys on campus,” You point out. “You can get any girl, and yet you somehow manage to ruin it every single time. Like with Eunha.”

Jungkook winces. The poor Eunha in question is a pretty girl from your chem class, whomst Jungkook had somehow managed to charm. From what you know, they had hooked up a handful of times before that fateful night in which Jungkook had abruptly broken things off with her. If you’re being honest, he’s not a total monster. The only thing that seems to scare him away is when a girl asks to cuddle him in the morning or talks about the prospective future together. He doesn’t want to hurt them, he told you once before, and finds it much easier to nip any potential relationship in the bud before it can get too far, too out of control.

“We literally only slept together three times anyway and we never went out,” Jungkook points out. “What’s the big deal?”

A roll of your eyes doesn’t go unnoticed by Jungkook. “Yeah, it’s not her fault you’re scared of commitment.”

“Nu’uh,” The boy sulks. “I’m only scared of realistic things, like microwaves.”

A snort bubbles at your lips, and it’s frustrating how adorable he finds the simple action. Rather than entertain the thought of his irrational fear of kitchen appliances (because you’ve heard it all before, and you still can’t find where he was incited with the terror of an exploding microwave), you sit up.

“Jungkook, I don’t even like you like that.”

“I don’t like you like that either. That’s why it’s so perfect!” Jungkook says brightly. “Look, we know each other better than anyone else ever could. We’re already comfortable with each other. We don’t have to go through all that boring small talk. All I’m saying is we could give it a try. No relationship, no emotions, just sex.”

You consider the thought for a moment, weigh the pros and cons in your head.

The cons? He’s your best friend.

The pros? He’s your best friend, and he’s hot.

Truthfully, your slightly buzzed mind can find very little to dissuade you away from the inviting proposition and maybe that’s why you begin to entertain the idea. And, sure, you had just complained profusely about how men sometimes only used you for sex, but it’s not like you don’t have needs too. You just don’t have the gusto in you anymore to spend days on a boy who will only just leave you the moment you let him have sex with you. At least with Jungkook, he’s already offering you a blatant deal of sex only and you know you won’t have to worry about him breaking your heart; and he doesn’t have to worry about the dreaded dreamy post-sex cuddle talk of a future family and babies and a white picket-fence home. It’s a win-win for the both of you, really. Or maybe you’re just telling yourself that.

“How would we even start?” You ask finally. “I mean… Do you even find me attractive enough in that way?”

“Yeah.” Jungkook hardly bats a lash. He meets your stare, licks slowly at his lower lip. When he sees the cross look of disbelief scrunching at your face, he hastens to respond. “I’m not blind. You’re fucking drop dead gorgeous, Y/N.”

“But physically attractive? I’m no hot girl Eunha.”

“If I wanted Eunha, I’d be between her legs right now. Y/N, of course I think you’re attractive.” A gentle sliver of a smile dances upon his lips. He leans his head on the back of the couch, eyes fluttering over your appearance shortly. “I’ve always liked your lips, and your eyes. Think they’re beautiful.”

Suddenly, you’re flustered again. The room feels as if it’s getting increasingly warmer, yet you seem to want to bask in the feeling and attention a little longer. “That’s too sentimental.”

“It’s true though.”

“Well, you’re lucky I’ve always had a thing for idiots,” You jest playfully. “Jerks, too. Playboys who are too hot for their own good.”

“Ah, and I love it when you talk dirty to me.” A cheeky grin tugs at his lips as he clutches at his heart over his chest. “It’s a good thing I like it a little too much, knowing you’ll always keep me in check.”

But then the mirth seems to fade from your mind long enough for you to hum aloud pensively, “And I’ve always liked your eyes. I’ve never seen such big eyes before. Sometimes, if I look long enough, it’s like I can see the stars in them.”

As you’re speaking about them, his irises glisten magnificently. He bites at his lip now, as if to hide the way his soft smile turns sheepish. “I like your bum.”

“Really? I always worry it’s too flat.”

“Are you kidding? Your ass is a fucking god-send. It’s hard not to stare when you wear leggings sometimes,” Jungkook admits, earning a small giggle from you. “And I like your boobs. I’ve always wondered…” He trails off abruptly, shaking his head. He shoots you an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop. I’m being an idiot, aren’t I?”

“Well, maybe I don’t want you to stop.”

Silence saturates the room now, settling comfortably between the two of you. He wonders what you’re thinking, and you wonder if he can hear your heart hammering against your chest. Perhaps on any other day when you were of sound mind, you could find a plethora of reasons as to why sleeping with your best friend was a terrible idea. But being that you were slightly tipsy, and Jungkook isn’t far off, you can find not one fault, except for maybe how tragically hot Jungkook looks sitting across from you and how he’s never been yours, at least in that way. Would it be so wrong to try just once?

You shift then, pushing yourself to your knees if only so you can worm your way towards him before swinging one leg over his. You settle back on his lap, hands gripping his shoulders. He can feel your core press against the inside of his thigh, just where his dick is nestled and he has to bite back a moan. His eyes are wider than usual, as if believing the moment to be surreal, though something sultry threatens to darken them.

“Y/N…”

The excitement crackles through your veins like electricity. You’ve never been in such a compromising position with Jungkook before, and you wonder if it should be concerning just how much you’re enjoying it. It almost feels as if time slows down, every second dragging on, yet he can’t look away. His hands come to tug at your hoodie (that he’s almost positive was his once upon a time before you nicked it from his closet) and you meet him part way, replacing his efforts as you pull it up and off your body. Then, you’re sitting back on his lap in your full nude glory, chest bare and right in his face. He eyes the swell of your breasts, the perk of your nipples. Of course you’re not wearing anything beneath your hoodie ━ and, god, he loves it.

“Touch me?”

Your voice comes to him in an almost dream. You reach for his hand then, your palm soft around his knuckles and the tattoos that ink his skin. It’s the same hand of which he wears the other half to your pair of friendship bracelets in one of his favourite colours of red, decorated with little pink hearts. It came in a matching set of two (yours in your own favourite colour, currently on the wrist of the hand you’re using to guide Jungkook’s), cute little macrame braid ones with hearts woven into the design that you had pointed out one day while you were both at the mall and he had bought without any hesitation mostly as a joke but resulted in both of you wearing them on a daily basis.

Now, all he can do is continue watching you with bated breath as you guide his hand right where you both want him. He comes to cup the underside of one of your breasts, your hand over his pressing his fingers tighter together until you can feel some sort of pleasant pressure. And, just like that, something feral and needy seems to snap within him. His hand slithers from your grasp if only so he can flick his thumb across your nipple, mesmerized by the softness of it. He’s only ever seen you naked once before and it was fleeting. You were both drunk, skinny dipping in a lake with a handful of other friends, but it had been too dark to notice much else. But now? Now, he can see all of you and the sight strikes a chord right down to his dick.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” Jungkook groans.

“Koo.” The cute little nickname you had given him sounds dirty now as it slips from your lips in a moan. “Too sentimental.”

But Jungkook isn’t listening because you really, really, really are so beautiful. He bows his head to your chest, catching one of your nipples in his mouth. He murmurs something against your chest that sounds akin to, “We can take things slow.”

“Slow…” Your head is spinning, but it’s a delightful sensation. Something hard pokes against your ass now, and the adrenaline only seems to build within you. It’s odd how everything feels so foreign ━ exploring his body and these newfound feelings like the uncharted territory it is ━ yet secure and safe at the same time. As if you know what to do next, where to touch next, how to move, your bodies almost fitting together like pieces to a puzzle. “Y-Yeah, I like that. Can I move?”

“Fuck, yes, please,” he growls. He’s much too busy nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin on your chest, teeth tugging at your nipple.

You hurry to obey, giving a small experimental swivel of your hips that almost immediately has the both of your inhaling a sharp breath of air. His dick strains against his sweatpants, the material doing very little in protecting him against you. Your core throbs as you rub yourself on him.

“Like this?” You rasp.

“Yeah, just like that.” Jungkook’s head rolls back onto the couch, his eyes squeezing shut and his blonde hair spilling into his eyes. He clenches his jaw, the nerves fluttering in the corner, as pure euphoria riddles his features. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anything so sexy. “Fuck, we probably shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Yeah,” You agree, breathless. “Do you wanna stop?”

“No. Do you?”

“No.”

“Thank god.” The sigh of relief that emits from Jungkook startles even him but, in the heat of the moment, he doesn’t register how any of this could be a mistake. “Ah, shit━ Faster━”

“Mmm, Koo━” You whimper as you quicken your pace, the vulgar harbored thought of his dick in you thrilling you to no end.

“Fuuck, I’ve never heard you sound like this before. So needy, so desperate,” Jungkook grunts, his fingers digging into your hips. And it’s all because of him, the way you’re feeling. He’s never wanted to hurry to please you faster, itching to tear you apart if he’ll get to hear those noises from you again and again. “I━”

He’s gonna cum, and he’s not even in your pussy. What’s gotten into him?

He presses you a little harsher against his dick, sitting up straighter so that his chest is pressed flush against yours. He leans forward, lips chasing after yours, before you pull back just enough sluggishly to press your finger to his mouth.

“Uh uh. No kissing,” You rasp.

The words process in Jungkook’s head, but the weight of them don’t seem to linger in his daze. He’s far too overwhelmed by you and the way you’re making him feel to even begin to try to decipher why you avoid his mouth and so, for now, he doesn’t care. Instead, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, nose nuzzling against your throat. You clutch at his hair, tugging at the roots tight enough for him to moan.

“Nnngh, Jungkook━” You whine. “I’m gonna━ Oh, fuck, Koo━”

And then you’re unravelling, right in his very arms. He holds you close as you tremble and shake, rutting your hips sloppily against his to ride out your high, and Jungkook thinks he can definitely get used to this. The familiar burn forms in his stomach and, without even thinking of it, he comes in the confinements of his pants.

But in the heat of the moment, he doesn’t notice quite a lot of things. Neither do you.

So, maybe you could both find a hundred and one reasons why having sex with your best friend would surely cross some lines, but the thing with you and Jungkook (and what would eventually blossom into a hubristic relationship of sorts) is that it wasn’t just sex. You would always be comfortable around him, as he would be with you. And nothing could ever possibly get weird between the two of you ━ not when you had both made a promise to each other that it wouldn’t get in the way of your friendship.

Because ━ while, yeah, he’s hot and suffers from fuckboy tendencies from time-to-time and, aside from random late night hookups ━ he was still the same boy that would drag you out at three in the morning to drive to the next city over for a bowl of ramen, who would marathon shows as long as One Piece or Game of Thrones with you, watching as much as you can in one all-nighter; who would come to your dorm, no matter the time of day, the moment you said you were sick or suffering from cramps, piled high with your favourite snacks; who shared a repertoire of silly inside jokes with you that never made any sense to anyone but the both of you; who insisted you both wear friendship bracelets even in college. He would always be an angel to you, treat you well, because you meant that much to him.

A small thought in the back of Jungkook’s head wonders, above all else, if you were anyone different, would he have even bothered suggesting such a ludicrous idea, drunk or not?

Because he’s positive no one else could make him cum in his pants like a horny prepubescent teen ━ no one except for you.

“If we’re really gonna do this, we need to set some ground rules.”

Admittedly, neither you nor Jungkook knew what would happen after Jungkook’s proposition to you. Maybe you were expecting the two of you to pretend as if nothing had ever happened, or laugh it off as something so inconsequential that neither of you should bother worrying about it. Instead, the very next day, you find that you’re back in Jungkook’s dorm. Only this time, you’re in his bed, and he spent the past half hour sufficiently eating you out.

Now, you’ve had an epiphany in the form of Jungkook’s dick, and that is that it’s big.

You’ve seen it before on occasion ━ like when he streaked nude across campus as a dare or when he needed to use your shower because his apartment was under maintenance and he walked out on you in the living room ━ but this is clearly a very different circumstance. All red, swollen, angry tip wet and glistening with precum. You had to brace yourself as he pushed himself into you, cautiously and slowly, enjoying the way you stretch to fit around him. If you had a drunken excuse the night before for loving the thought of getting off with Jungkook, then you surely don’t have one now. It’s a shameless guilty pleasure, you think, that he’s at least indulging in.

“Rules,” Jungkook scoffs now. “You’re such a nerd. Fuck, you feel so fucking good━ You doing okay?”

More than. Your head lolls back against his pillow, eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head. “Mhm.”

“Want a minute?”

“Maybe.”

Jungkook pauses without any hesitation, gnawing on his lower lip as your walls clench around him so tightly he feels he might fall apart then and there. His hands are on your hips, thumbs rubbing comforting circles against your burning skin. A few deep breaths later and you’re probing Jungkook to move again. His hips rut into yours at a leisure pace, and he marvels for a moment at the way his dick disappears into your pussy, slick and wet with your own arousal. The thought of being in you ━ of finally feeling your walls wrapped around him, all wet and snug ━ is enough to make him bust then and there, but he refrains miraculously.

“Holy fuck,” You groan. “Why are you so big━”

Your voice cuts off into a delightful whimper, walls aching around him. Jungkook snorts, burrowing his face in the crook of your neck. “Nothing sexier than hearing you stroke my ego.”

“Don’t let it get to your already big head,” You retort sluggishly.

“Big head!” he grumbles against your throat, lips brushing faintly against your skin and sending shivers down your spine. “Insult me some more. You know how it gets me going.”

“Oh my god, shut up. Where were we?”

“Rules.”

“Right,” You breathe in a sharp inhale of air as he grinds against your hips. “And rule number one is no kissing. That’s way too intimate.”

Jungkook quirks a brow. “How is kissing more intimate than having my dick in you?”

“It just is.” You refuse to tell him the truth. You poke your fingers at his sides, causing him to jerk against you. “Don’t question it.”

“Fine. Then no sentimental shit in general, like cuddling or pet names,” Jungkook retorts. “And no public displays of affection.”

“Okay,” You nod. “Fuck, Jungkook━”

“God, I love hearing you moan my name,” Jungkook grunts. He watches with fascination the way your face reacts at his every movement. “Too much?”

“No. Kinda hot,” You admit. An abrupt thought pops into your head that has you murmuring hazily, “Oh, and you can’t have sex with me to your sex playlist.”

Jungkook looks appalled. The sex playlist in question is one you’ve heard briefly before, if only because you’ve walked in on Jungkook and his flavour of the month a handful of times one too many times.

“So you’re telling me you don’t want to have the best orgasm of your life to The Weeknd or the Neighbourhood? WAP?” Jungkook asks, wriggling his brows suggestively. “Alanis Morissette?” You have less than half a second to register the 90s pop singer as out of place before Jungkook breaks out into song with a brief rendition of Head over Feet. “You’re my best friend, best friend with benefits━!”

Part of you knows he’s joking, but there’s still a small sliver of you that makes you gawk at him dubiously before dissolving into a fit of unabashed laughter. It rumbles against his chest, vibrates his dick in you. “You’re not serious, are you? That’s not actually in your sex playlist, is it?”

He flashes you a shit-eating grin. “Guess you’ll never know now.”

Another roll of your eyes makes him snicker. He’s gotten used to your snide remarks, but he’ll gladly keep suffering under them if he gets to wipe that taunting smirk off your face each time with the way his dick makes you feel. You cling a little tighter to his shoulders and muse aloud, “So that’s it then?”

“Yeah━” Jungkook knows you’re referring to the rules and your plan, although it’s getting harder to focus on talking as he continues to grind against you. “And nothing has to change between us, even if we stop. We’re still just two best friends.”

“Yup.”

“Who have sex from time to time.”

“Yeah.”

He can’t help himself. He tries again. “Who might kiss.”

“Nope.” You’re smiling even despite the way you shoot him an aggravated stare first.

“We might?”

“No, we definitely won’t.”

Worth a shot, he thinks to himself. At least you really do always keep him in check.

After all, what are best friends for?

So, maybe a part of you thought the shift in your relationship with Jungkook wouldn’t last very long. A week at most, and maybe Hoseok would find you another pointless let down of a blind date to go on and Jungkook would get horny for some other girl ━ but it’s certainly been more than a week now, and you’ve had sex with him more than two times.

A third, and a fourth, if you’re being blatantly honest, and maybe a few more times after that but you don’t really remember what count you’re both on now which should probably be concerning. Days elapse into days, which turn to weeks, then months. Morning, afternoon, and night.

It’s not as if you hadn’t already spent almost every waking moment with Jungkook but now you had a reason to be at his apartment at any and all hours of the day and not solely for movie watching marathons. You’re positive he’s still having his occasional random flings, though you’re fortunate his commitment issues at least force him to go to their homes rather than his for the most part, so you never really have to witness half-naked girls stumbling out of his apartment just as you’re wandering in. He says it has something to do with how his bedroom is his sacred space, though you think it’s more like he wouldn’t want his hook ups discovering his Overwatch figurines or something (because, before Jungkook’s proposition, you’ve walked in on him once and a girl when they were entangled on the couch in his living room).

But you’ve noticed lately you’re getting too comfortable with your arrangement with Jungkook; too comfortable knowing he’ll be there at the end of a long day to greet you, to please you until you’re crying out his name. Sometimes he tells you about the girls he’s texting, or shows you a picture from a hot girl’s Instagram whose D.M.s he’s just slid into. And sometimes you’re left wondering how often he comes straight to you after hooking up with a random girl.

It shouldn’t matter to you, and you swear that it doesn’t.

Maybe you’re just overthinking things. Hoseok certainly seems to think so, but his judgement wasn’t much to go by.

Because, lately, Hoseok has been encouraging you more and more to give Yukhei (the blind date Hoseok had initially set you up with when you found yourself at Jungkook’s) another chance for two reasons: 1) “Yukhei’s a nice boy,” he had cheerfully reminded you, “he’ll treat you well,” and 2) “Stop fucking your best friend. It’s morally wrong.”

There were many things wrong with his statement, from the fact that you didn’t exactly consider standing up a date as “nice” and that you were also still begrudgingly lamenting the way Hoseok had discovered your recent fling with Jungkook (although, you weren’t being very inconspicuous, having shower sex with Jungkook early one morning when you were certain Hoseok would be spending the day at his fiance’s home instead of yours).

But then you meet Yukhei and you realize that, oh crap, he’s cute. And he’s nice.

As it turns out, after bumping into him one day when you’re with Hoseok lounging on the quad of your campus and he comes bounding over to return a textbook Hoseok had lent him for a specific class, Yukhei is so easily charming. He also gives a pretty valid excuse for flaking on your date, proving that he had to present his dissertation, making you clearly aware that he’s cute, nice, and smart. Jungkook, on the other hand, doesn’t see the appeal, yet his curiosity and intrigue seems to get the best of him.

“So that was your blind date?” Jungkook asks after grabbing your attention on the quad and stealing you away from Hoseok and Yukhei. “Yukhei?”

“You know him?”

“Seen him around,” Jungkook shrugs nonchalantly. “I’ve never really talked to him. But him? You’re not telling me you’re actually interested in him, are you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe,” You’re truly just as clueless about your feelings towards Yukhei as Jungkook seems to be. “What’s so wrong about him?”

“He’s━” Jungkook stops. He shakes his head. “Heard he’s got a small dick anyway.”

You shoot the boy a wary look, only to find him grinning deviously at himself. “Maybe he just wants to be friends.”

At this, Jungkook lets out a scoffing sound that borders on disbelieving laughter. “No, I definitely think he wants to have sex with you in his Toyota Camry, Y/N, but what do I know?”

“You’re not jealous, are you?”

“No, why would I be jealous?”

You can’t quite tell if he’s angry or not but, then again, why would he be? As far as either of you are concerned, there’s nothing to be jealous of.

So then why does it feel like he’s simply just telling himself that?

“Are you seriously on your phone right now?”

Jungkook asks this from somewhere behind you a handful of days later, a little peeved but most likely because your jarring 8:00 a.m. alarm had roused the both of you violently awake. In his defense, Jungkook is not a morning person.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You’re currently sprawled out on your hands and knees on his bed, phone still in your grasp after having plucked it off the nightstand in haste. Your clothes are scattered across the floor of his room, remnant clues of the night before when he had beckoned you over after hours, and your body is covered in nothing but hickeys and an unbuttoned blue flannel belonging to Jungkook that you had chucked on last night that does nothing in covering up the swell of your breasts which Jungkook is now currently eyeing. “Am I not giving you enough attention? Were you expecting cuddles or something? Thought that wasn’t in the rules.”

“No,” Jungkook huffs. He runs a hand through his long messy hair in an attempt to fix it; he ultimately gives up taming his locks, instead using the hair tie around his wrist to tie his hair back into a cute yet sexy little ponytail. As he does so, you notice the red friendship bracelet around his wrist and smile smally. “But my dick could use some cuddles. Preferably with your mouth, but it will also gladly accept your hand.”

Jungkook may not be a morning person but, as you’ve come to realize, his dick certainly is.

It’s painfully obvious too, his hardened length straining against the gray sweatpants he had thrown on at some point. And, god, did he have to wear those? It left little to the imagination, the outline of his length teasing you just enough.

“I should get going,” You say. “I have a test coming up. There’s supposed to be a review session today in class, and I don’t want to miss it.”

“Well, you don’t seem like you’re in a rush since you’re still on your phone,” Jungkook points out. “Who are you texting anyway? Yukhei?”

“Anger is an emotion,” You rebuke casually. “So is jealousy.”

Jungkook feigns a look of mock hurt. “I’m not angry or jealous! I’m needy.”

Still, Jungkook reaches out to swiftly pluck your phone from your hands.

“Jungkook━!”

He’s pressed up against your back in an instant, his dick hard against your ass, and he doesn’t move very far even when you twist in your spot in an attempt to grab your phone back. You don’t, and instead you end up on your back with him on his side, propped up on his elbow. You miss when he casts a swift gaze down at your phone, only to see that Yukhei’s chat messages are indeed open, and something seems to gnaw terribly at his gut before he tosses your phone to the side. He’s looking at you now with those big beautiful eyes of his, and you hate it.

“Please?” he beckons. He ruts his hips impatiently but slowly against your leg. He drops his head to bury his face in the crook of your neck, lips dangerously close to brushing against your flesh but he refrains somehow. “M’so hard right now, could probably bust the moment you touch me.”

The thought is tempting, having a helpless Jungkook cumming in your hands. The sight alone has quickly become your favourite thing, helping the frustrated boy get off. Besides, you’re certain you could ask Hoseok for the review notes.

Fuck it, you cave.

You fidget until you’ve pressed him back against the bed and have clambered on top of him, wiggling your way down to fit between his legs. Jungkook is watching you now with a half-asleep expression, though his teeth sink into his lower lip as you pull at his sweatpants until they’re down at his thighs, letting his swollen dick spring free.

“You know━” You hum. You reach out to grab at the base of his cock. “Yukhei wants to hang out, and Hoseok keeps telling me to give it a shot.”

That much is true. Part of you wants to say yes, if only because Yukhei seems promising enough, but the thought alone is enough for you to feel as if you’ve done something horribly wrong to Jungkook.

“Oh.” The word eclipses Jungkook’s mouth in a shallow breath of air. Then, your mouth wraps around the puffy head of his dick, shining with leaking precum that you swallow back, and Jungkook’s reaction is immediate. Head thrown back, face scrunching together, muscles in his toned abdomen flexing as he seizes and grunts aloud. “Oh, fuck━ Well… Are you gonna?”

Jungkook asks the last question with much difficulty, and a part of him thinks it doesn’t all have to do with how you’re making him feel.

“Dunno.” You snort around his dick, and he marvels at how adorable such a lewd action can seem.

You decide to focus on sucking him off because it truly is a sexy sight to see, letting the topic of Yukhei drop. Jungkook certainly doesn’t mind. As you swirl your tongue around his tip and reach up with your free hand to fondle at his balls, his long hair falls into his lashes but he still tries to find you past his wild locks, hooded eyes gazing down at you.

“Ah, shit━” Jungkook hisses delightfully, hips jerking forward instinctively into your mouth. The faintest hints of a drowsy smirk tug at his lips. “Fuck, yes, just like that.”

Yeah, you think to yourself then, you’re definitely going to ride him later. Screw going to class.

From: Jungkook Sent: 1:05 a.m.

bro i noticed u werent wearing our friendship bracelet while u were giving me head earlier. is everything ok??

You wake in the morning to a single text from Jungkook ━ and one you had not been expecting.

That’s not to say that getting the occasional text message from Jungkook at any and all hours of the day was abnormal, but the extent of his messages sent anywhere past midnight usually always range from something more coherent in the form of “what would u do if i was there rn?” to something exuding typical lazy Jungkook manner with a simple “dtf?” or “send noods lol” to something even more provocatively cryptic such as the eggplant and splashing water (or, as far as Jungkook is concerned, something else entirely) emojis and nothing else, left open for your own interpretation that typically, usually, without a doubt, results in you in his bed and his dick in you. But this seems to be something else entirely.

Unfortunately, Jungkook’s text isn’t the only concern of yours.

Hoseok has spent the better part of the morning giving you a lecture on why having sex with your best friend is bad. He seems so passionate about the topic that you’re certain he would have pulled out a powerpoint at any moment, each slide ending in a picture of Yukhei and why you should maybe try fucking him instead, if you entertained the idea a little longer. Hoseok claims it’s just a harmless date. Yukhei might be a nice boy, but you don’t know how you feel about him. You don’t want to lead him on, and a scary thought points out the fact that maybe, while Yukhei is a nice boy, he isn’t Jungkook.

“I don’t get why you don’t just give Yukhei a chance━” Hoseok is saying now, sat on the couch in your shared apartment with him. “It’s not like you have to marry him. I don’t think one date will hurt━ Aaand, you’re not even listening to me anymore, are you?”

The sheepish look on your face is enough of an answer for him. You’ve been anxiously eyeing your phone and the text Jungkook had sent you last that you’ve yet to respond to, even despite being awake for more than a few hours now.

“Yes, I am listening,” You say dismissively. “Something about how one date won’t hurt, but that’s what you said when Yoongi asked you out, and you’re literally engaged now.”

The glistening metallic ring on Hoseok’s finger is evidence enough. The boy looks down at it as if seeing it for the first time, purses his lips, and then nods in agreement. “Okay, yeah, maybe you’re right. But you’re holding out for Jungkook and for what? He’s hot, yeah, and he’s your best friend, sure, but at the end of the day he’s still just a horny male who wants to stick his dick in anything that moves.”

“Hoseok.” Your grumbling sigh is interrupted by the motion of your phone vibrating against your thigh once more. You peek at the screen fleetingly to see a new text.

From: Jungkook Sent: 2:35 p.m.

send n00ds?

miss ur tits :(

Typical Jungkook.

The text from the night before is all but seemingly forgotten from his mind, and you can’t quite tell if you’re devastated or relieved. You don’t have very long to discern which emotion you’re feeling when Hoseok snatches your phone to look at what’s gotten your attention before exclaiming suddenly, “Aha! See! What did I say?”

“It’s not like that,” You wave Hoseok off. “Jungkook treats me well. He respects me, and I’m comfortable with him.”

“And how long until whatever this is━” He gestures vaguely to your phone as if to point out your relationship with Jungkook, “has to end? Do you really think a pinky promise is going to make sure your friendship with him isn’t totally ruined? I mean, how can you continue being casual friends with someone, see them dating someone else, when they’ve had their dick in you?”

You know it makes sense. Realistically, you either stop sleeping with each other or it potentially develops into something more. But in both circumstances, what were the chances that either of you didn’t get your heart broken? Maybe a part of you was apprehensive of Jungkook finding the “right” person for him one day that has him ending things with you, and while you swear you’d be happy for him, relationships sometimes have a way of distracting people from those already around them. Were you prepared to have someone take him away from you, platonically and whatever it is else that you have with him? Did you really think you could just keep being friends with him, as if nothing ever occurred between you two?

You don’t think Jungkook is bothered worrying about the state of your friendship with him, much less overthinking it like you seem to be. It shouldn’t be a big deal ━ yet why was there still that terrible nagging voice in the back of your mind? Whether or not Hoseok is right, you don’t want to find out. You don’t have feelings for Jungkook anyway.

But your ability to bend at his every will is certainly interesting.

You grab your phone before Hoseok can do any serious damage like unlocking it and responding to Jungkook, clutching it to your chest as you start to cross the living room. The other boy looks at you in bewilderment. “Where are you going now?”

“Where does it look?” You call over your shoulder just before you disappear into the bathroom, and Hoseok deduces all at once that you’re truly a lost cause. “I need to send him a picture of my boobs.”

“He’s totally into you, Y/N.”

Admittedly, there were many mundane but essentially weird things you’ve talked to Jungkook about while having sex. You’ve had many heated debates about everything under the sun from whether or not pineapple on pizza should be illegal to top five betrayals in either movies or animes, to passionate grand philosophical discussions about what exists outside of the universe.

It’s not as if you had been planning on talking about Yukhei to Jungkook when he had invited you over to his apartment late at night after sending your risqué boob picture to him but, like many things in your friendship with Jungkook, it sort of just happened. He had asked you how your day was and you had decided to broach the topic experimentally, though you think deep down you’re doing it on purpose to see if he’d react in any way. What started with you mentioning Hoseok’s adamance and you sort of genuinely asking Jungkook for advice on Yukhei somehow evolved into Jungkook interrogating you on whether or not you’ve hung out with him yet.

“Jungkook. You’re getting off topic,” You admonish him now, as if your own choice of topic is any better when his dick is currently in you.

Jungkook is wedged between your thighs smushed up against your chest, large palms holding you on your ribcage in place beneath him. He’s a comfortable heavy draped over top of you, cock stretching you wide. You can feel his heart hammering against yours and he’s slick with sweat, golden hair clinging to his forehead and in his pretty eyes. You resist the urge to reach out and brush the messy locks away but, again, how would that be any less intimate of an action than what you’re already doing? Another line uncrossed, you suppose.

“How am I off topic?” Jungkook retorts. “You literally just said you can’t tell if he’s into you but he dropped by when you were done class and bought you lunch. You don’t just do that for a girl you don’t care that much about.”

“You buy me lunch, like, every day,” You point out.

“Because you’re my best friend. Of course I care about you,” Jungkook says.

“Ah, Jungkook━” You curse suddenly, grabbing his attention when you shift your weight beneath him. “You’re crushing me. Why’d you stop moving?”

He doesn’t have an answer, if only because he hadn’t even realized he’d stop moving in the first place. Without hesitation, he continues leisurely rutting his hips against yours, grabbing at one of your legs to hook it around his waist. This new angle lets you feel even more of him as he sinks further into you, if that was even still possible, reaching so far into you that you swear it’s like you can feel him in your stomach. Your head lolls back against the pillows, pure euphoria contorting your face so much so to the point that it distracts you entirely from the distant look glazing over Jungkook’s eyes.

“Yukhei definitely wants to bang,” he huffs under his breath.

At once, an exasperated groan fills his ears.

“I can’t believe we’re seriously having this conversation right now,” You roll your eyes, fingers prodding at his sides. “I don’t wanna talk about Yukhei potentially wanting to have sex with me.”

Jungkook’s glad you said it, at least. Though now he’s watching you with hooded eyes as he thrusts into you a little harder, maybe a little intentionally. His indulgent gaze droops to your breasts, admiring the way they bounce beneath him each time his hips make contact with yours. He thinks back earlier in the day to the picture you had sent him which, really, had sparked the mood for the rest of the night.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he whines abruptly. His eyes screw shut and brows furrow together as your walls clench around him. He drops his head to bury his face in your chest, lips momentarily wrapping around one of your nipples as he sucks harshly at the soft flesh. When he speaks next, forehead still resting against your collarbones, his voice is a breathless croak, “Well, do you like him?”

“No,” You moan. “Maybe━ Fuck, Koo━ I don’t know.”

“He’s gonna be at that party Tae’s throwing, isn’t he?” Jungkook tries to focus, but it’s becoming increasingly harder to do so when he’s inching closer and closer to his high. “Shit, ah, Y/N━ Why don’t you try talking to him or something? See how the night goes?”

“He’s nice but I don’t think he’s the one for me,” You admit sheepishly. “I think I’m just gonna end things while I still can, with as little harm as possible.”

“Well, glad that’s settled,” Jungkook mumbles. “Can we please stop talking about Yukhei now?”

You seem to miss the way he clings to you a little tighter, hands flying down to grip at your hips, nails digging crescent moon shapes into your skin. He snaps his hips into yours a little faster this time, your pussy throbbing around him.

“Nngh, Jungkook━”

Your hands fumble to grip at his hair, tugging tightly at the roots and earning a delightful hiss from the boy. Your own mouth drops open in a silent moan and it’s a wonder he doesn’t combust at just how sexy the sight is. He hates how his eyes stay trained on the shape of your lips, the soft plumpness of them. He’s felt them wrapped around his dick plenty of times before but he concedes that it’s probably hardly anywhere near to how it would feel to kiss you. Like actually kiss you, tongue and all.

God, what’d he give just to smother your lips with his.

And, god, he hopes you never find out. He’s positive that thought is far more scandalous alone than anything you’ve ever done together.

You’re writhing beneath him now, hips jutting forward desperately to meet his. “I’m gonna cum, Jungkook━”

“Fuck, yes,” Jungkook growls. “Wanna feel you cream around my cock so bad. Come on, baby━”

In the heat of the moment, you seem to miss the pet name that slurs off his tongue and the sentiment in it. A few more jolting slams of his hips and you’re tumbling over the edge. He has to sputter for air when he feels your pussy wrapping so tightly around him, stuttering in his pace above you if only to watch as you unravel beneath him. Hooded dark eyes glazed over in that perfect fucked out expression he loves so much, teeth biting at your lower lip so hard he wonders if it’ll bruise in the morning.

A sudden thought pops into his head when you’ve settled enough, amongst the blinding pure white of bliss that clouds his thoughts. “Did you get my text by the way? The one I sent last night?”

You gasp for air. The bracelet on your wrist itches at the mention of it, and you’re fortunate you decided to wear it that afternoon before coming to Jungkook’s. “Y-Yeah━”

“Well…?”

“Everything’s fine,” You say this as dismissively as you can. Your core is still vibrating after the harsh impact of your orgasm paired with Jungkook’s swollen length still in you. “I just… I was taking a shower and didn’t want to get it wet. I forgot to put it back on in the morning.”

That’s a lie. You had mostly taken it off as part of an experiment, though it hasn’t answered much. At least Jungkook doesn’t seem to realize that.

“Oh,” Jungkook breathes. A beat of silence passes, before he deadpans cockily, “Wait, you were taking a shower and I wasn’t invited?”

“Oh my god, shut up━” Maybe if he hadn’t just currently driven you to nirvana and back, you’d notice the way the sloppy grin on his face is a simple taunt. But you’re much too distracted to care. Instead, you use your leg that’s still hooked around his waist to gently push and roll him onto his back so that you can straddle his hips. His eyes sparkle mischievously as he watches you waste no time in hurrying to grind against him at an agonizingly steady pace that makes his head spin. “You’re ruining the moment. I’m trying to make you cum.”

A devious cackle rumbles from his chest, albeit a little contented at the same time. Yeah, he definitely likes the sound of that. “Well then, by all means, don’t let me stop you.”

It’s only then that his question comes back into your mind. If he felt the need to ask you again about the bracelet, maybe that meant something after all. At the very least, it means he hadn’t forgotten about it altogether. On the other hand, you wonder how often he had spent thinking, or over-thinking, the issue in the past twenty-four hours, if at all.

Was it wrong to feel some semblance of joy over that potential fact? Probably.

That doesn’t seem to bother you much this time. Not when he’s gazing up at you as if you’re some divine sexy goddess, all his to enjoy. You can’t help yourself; you reach down to brush the sweaty hair from his eyes, perhaps all too gentle of an action for best friends.

And he smiles, maybe a little too softly and maybe a little too ardently if you look close enough.

He smiles.

The thing about your supposed “rules” with your relationship with Jungkook is that there might be a few loose ends that neither you nor Jungkook pay much attention to sometimes.

But that’s neither here nor there.

Mostly, the “no public displays of affection” clause is easily disregardable. It’s typically when you’re too drunk to remember it and a bit needy, craving one another’s touch, but those around you never truly seem to care or even notice because, if you’re lucky, they’re equally as smashed. Sometimes the “no cuddles” clause blurs into a gray area where it’s simply just you and Jungkook post-sex, sprawled out in his bed, not necessarily wrapped up in one another’s arms and cooing sweet nothings to one another but giggling at nothing in particular except one another as you bask in each other’s company and nothing more. You suppose some rules are meant to be broken.

For the most part, Jungkook never seems to question the no kissing rule you were so adamant in insisting. Not until one night in which you’re left wondering where things go so drastically wrong. It starts off as normally as any other day with you and Jungkook can, spent in his apartment binge watching movies. You hadn’t expected that night to switch as suddenly as it does when Jungkook shoots you a text earlier in the day asking if you want to come to his for a night of casual drinking as simply “best friends.” But, as always, one thing seems to lead to another, and you can’t get enough of Jungkook. Maybe it’s in the way he holds you a little tighter, the way he tugs you onto his lap on the sofa in his living room, the way he grips your thighs with a certain type of insatiable desire.

“You know…” he hums. “You drive me insane. In, like, the best way possible.”

Part of you realizes his actions even without him seeming to, and the drunken smile on your face remaining frozen in place, a little dumbfounded. “Jungkook…”

“When I’m with you…” He lifts his stare to look at you, but you have nothing to say. Neither does he. Instead, you’re left grinning at one another and suddenly your face is warm. He leans towards you, his nose nuzzling against the side of your throat. Your hands stay threaded in his hair now, and he swears he feels you secure your grip as if to pull him closer.

You can feel his lips brush faintly against your skin, grazing along your neck to the underside of your jaw. Up, up, up, until━

It’s just as his mouth meets with the corner of yours that you register what he’s doing, even in your clouded state. You turn your head just in time, and he comes to an immediate halt, his lips barely making contact with your cheek instead before he pulls away. He doesn’t move very far but you also don’t push him away just yet. Instead, you shift your head to look at him, still inches apart from him.

“What are you doing?” You ask. He can’t quite tell if you’re appalled or not, an empty expression staring back at him.

“I━ You━” He fumbles over his words, squeezes his eyes shut. He blames it on the alcohol even though his head is swimming with thoughts that seem to only concern you. But then a fierceness seems to stir within him, one that makes his jaw clench as he meets your stunned stare. The question rolls off his tongue without meaning to. “Is this about Yukhei?”

“What?”

“Is that why you weren’t wearing our bracelet the other day?”

The question is so ridiculous, you have to laugh. “What are you going on about?”

But Jungkook doesn’t see what’s so funny and so he tries again, his persistence taking hold. “Is that why you won’t ever let me kiss you?”

You blink. Then, you’re shaking your head at him. Exasperation hangs heavy in your words, shaping in the form of a tired scoff. “You’re not serious.”

You’ve slithered off of his lap before he can even think to stop you ━ but if he had, would you have even stayed? You’re mad, but he doesn’t know why. “No, I wanna know. Because if what we have is already so meaningless, what makes a kiss any different?”

“Jungkook…”

“So I wanna know,” he says, brows unconsciously knitting together. His gaze is searching yours desperately, as if begging for an answer he’ll want to hear. But he knows he’s being an idiot, a small sober part in him makes him realize that. “Humour me. Have you had sex with him yet?”

“Oh my god. I can’t believe that’s what you’re on about.” Suddenly, you’re frowning. Your hardened stare meets the boy’s and the irritation that scrunches at your face makes him wince, but it’s too late for him to take back the damage that he’s done. “Yeah, Jungkook, we fucked in his stupid Toyota that you hate so much and he choked me and I liked it. He did all sorts of dirty things to me. Is that what you want to hear?” The sardonic tone hisses at his ears, but he bites back his words, the sober part in him doing some decent good by shushing him. “No, Jungkook, we didn’t fuck. We haven’t even gone on a date, and I don’t even know if I want to, and you think I’m throwing myself at him.”

“But you wanna.”

“You’re being an idiot,” You admonish. “I’m going home. Talk to me when you’re sober.”

He has just enough time to watch you turn on your heel, march towards his door, when he scrambles to his feet. The weight of his words and actions finally seem to dawn on him, hitting him harshly in the face and in the heart.

“Fuck, wait! Wait━” he gasps.

He chases after you, hand reaching out to press his palm against the door before you can shimmy it open. He’s fortunate when you turn to look at him, though your arms are folded impatiently over your chest.

“You’re right. I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad,” he promises earnestly. Then, he lets out a frustrated groan. “I just… What if we… Shit, what if we stop for right now? Y’know… Hooking up. Whatever this is.”

He gestures vaguely between the two of you with his hands, a wearied look plastering his face.

You hate to admit how his words seem to affect you. They bite at the air, leave you breathless as you gawk at him, but the harsh realization of it all is that you were never his to have and he was never yours. Hoseok had been right when he said these things were bound to come to an end ━ so why did it seem to hurt you so much?

A beat of prolonged silence passes between the two of you. Jungkook runs a hand through his chaotic blonde hair, digging the heel of his palm into his temple as if to rid himself of a headache he’s no doubt sporting. Maybe you’re waiting for a better explanation, but he gives none, and you don’t feel as if you have the right to ask why. He’s not your boyfriend, for god’s sake. It’s not like he’s breaking your heart.

Instead, you take a deep breath and say, “Okay.”

“Okay.” It’s all that he says in return.

So then why does it feel like he is?

When Jungkook had promised that if your fling with him ended you would go back to being untainted best friends, he was apparently lying.

A part of you can’t believe the sheer nerve of him to ghost you in his traditional fuckboy ways, and yet he does. You suppose not entirely, at the very least. Part of it ends up with you being even more vexed by his sudden shift in emotion, and the tangible tension that rises between the two of you should have been dealt with properly, yet neither of you do anything about it, leaving your friendship stagnant and stale for a week. After all, how are you really supposed to go back to “just friends” when you’ve seen his dick one too many times?

You refrain from telling Hoseok, if only so you don’t have to hear him tell you he told you so ━ but you also decide to give Yukhei that one chance, and so you think Hoseok wouldn’t mind so much anyway.

Admittedly, when Yukhei asks to hang with you at Taehyung’s eventual party, you aren’t entirely too keen, but you accept it if only because you heard Jungkook will be there too. For the majority of the night, you don’t see the boy, and you spend the hours cozying up with Yukhei in a conversation that dulls you. As it would appear, it seems to bore Yukhei too, but you only notice that when he starts touching you on your waist and the small of your back. There’s a moment where he leans his head close enough to yours that you realize he’s trying to kiss you, resulting in an awkward encounter in which you push him away, palms on his chest.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. The answer is obvious enough to you, but you don’t think you should tell him for his own dignity. That, instead, all you can imagine is Jungkook in his place. “Should we get out of here?”

“Y/N. Can I talk to you?”

You’re both fortunate yet horrified when you hear Jungkook’s voice. He’s standing just behind you, his own stare devoid of any emotion, though his brows furrow and his jaw clenches in a signature Jungkook manner that you know means he’s pissed. He hardly acknowledges Yukhei, nodding in his general direction. You don’t remember if you leave Yukhei there or if he leaves, or if Jungkook even gives a poor attempt of an excuse to the boy, but you’ve not so much as uttered a single word or let out an exhalation of air, when Jungkook ultimately pulls you off to the side where it’s just you and him once more.

“I’m not sucking your dick in Tae’s grimy bathroom, if that’s what you want,” You scowl once Yukhei is out of earshot. “You’ve lost the privilege that is my mouth.”

“That’s not━” Jungkook shakes his head, exasperated. “That’s not what I want. I just━ I’ll take you home. Please?”

You know the offer is much more than him simply walking you the route to your dorm, which you already know like the back of your hand. Yet, you don’t argue. Truthfully, it’s a relief when Jungkook lugs you out of the party. The entire venture back to your apartment is treacherous, in the way that you’re left sobering up enough to the point that your dizzying thoughts become more coherent. Hoseok is gone for the weekend at least, spending the days with his fiance, so you don’t have to worry about humiliating yourself in front of your roommate when it comes to Jungkook.

You’ve barely made it through your front door when you’re grumbling aloud, “What do you want, Jungkook?”

“I wanna talk,” he says firmly. “About us. About Yukhei.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.” But that’s a lie. Talking to Jungkook, even despite masquerading your annoyance for him, is a blessing in disguise. You’ve missed the idiot, and hearing his voice. “Besides, you told me to give him a chance.”

“And you said you didn’t want to.”

“Maybe I changed my mind.”

“Yeah, you sure seemed like you loved it when he was trying to shove his tongue down your throat,” Jungkook retorts bitterly. “C’mon, Y/N. We both know that’s a lie.”

“You know, you’ve been a real dick lately.”

A sliver of a smirk tugs at Jungkook’s face. “I thought you love dick.”

Clearly, his poor attempt at a joke doesn’t land well with you. “Why do you even care so much if Yukhei and I get together? Stop acting so high and mighty and moral, Jungkook. It’s not like you’re some virgin saint. How many times have I heard you talk about all those girls you’ve fucked? And what was I? Just another notch in your belt this whole time?”

“What?” Jungkook gasps now, as if disbelieving you would ever think such a thing. “No! You’re not just another notch. I would never even think about you that way. And I haven’t had sex with anyone else but you this whole time and I easily could have.”

“Wow! Such a martyr,” You remark dryly. When you speak next, you meet his stare with your own crestfallen gaze. “I just want my best friend back.” Your words hurt him more than you think, but he can’t say he doesn’t deserve it. “You’re the one who tried to kiss me, then suggested we stop whatever it is we’re doing━”

Jungkook flinches. “I know.”

“Then you ignore me for days even though you promised nothing would change━”

“I know,” he says desperately. He closes the distance between the two of you, yearning to reach out and touch you. Instead, he clamps his eyes shut, trying with all his might to focus when the room feels like it’s spinning.

“And then you get mad when Yukhei tries to make a move. It’s like you’re jealous or something!”

“I am.” He can’t take it anymore. The words tumble from his lips in a rush that he hardly bothers to bite back.

“Why?”

“Because━ Because━” He struggles to form his thoughts into words, stumbling over his sentence. Fuck, he’s never like this. Even you can tell. He grits his teeth next. “I lean in to kiss you and you look at me as if I’m out of my mind. I just don’t get it. You don’t want me to kiss you but you let me put my dick in your ass.”

The taut line of your lip quivers as you break. “That was one time and you didn’t even get all the way in!”

“Y/N.” Jungkook hums now. He’s gazing at you a little softly, reaching out to place his hands on your waist. “Look, I know I’ve been an idiot. But lately, when I touch you, I fucking feel so alive and the thought of Yukhei doing anything with you when it isn’t me, who should be with you, makes me want to vomit. And when I wake up in the morning alone, I only want you next to me. And I can’t be the only one feeling that way. If I am, tell me. Right now. Please. I just wanna know why you won’t ever let me kiss you, but you let me do all sorts of things with you. Am I really that repulsive?”

Another moment of silence stifles the room. Jungkook is so close to you now, you can’t help yourself. You reach up to tug at the collar of his shirt, fingers twisting in the material as you lean your forehead out of frustration against his shoulder and he instinctively lets his arms slither around your waist, holding you to him. Then━

“No.”

“What?”

“I only made the rule because I don’t want you to kiss me unless you mean it,” You murmur into his chest. “Like really, really mean it. Like I’m more than just a notch in your belt. Because I want to kiss you so badly, and I’m already in love with you but then I’ll really be in love with you and I don’t want to get my heart broken.”

The anticipation kills you, awaiting his response. You refuse to lift your head, until you hear him grumble, “You’re so fucking stupid.”

“Me?”

The retort is filled with your typical jestering hostility as you finally look at him. But just as you do so, Jungkook’s reaching out to grasp at your face, rough hands all soft and gentle as they cradle your cheeks, guiding you towards him and smoothing his lips over yours until you melt like putty in his hands.

Kissing Jungkook, you deduce at once, is not at all how you imagined it.

It’s everything and more. You’ve felt his mouth on you before but in much different circumstances. Between your legs, on your throat, down past the valley of your breasts ━ and each kiss then had been feral, sloppy, rough. Now, it’s sweet and tender, the feeling of his lips as soft as how he makes your heart feel. And the butterflies━ god, the butterflies.

Impatient hands tug and pull at one another until you’ve both stumbled into your room and onto your bed. He’s clambered over top of you, lips struggling to not part throughout the whole ordeal, until he’s wedged himself between your thighs.

Only then does Jungkook part from you just enough in the next moment, lips brushing against yours, as he whispers ardently, “I mean it.”

Then he’s kissing the corner of your lips down to the underside of your jaw, his mouth grazing along your skin in a feathery touch. His hands help you shed your shirt, and the bra underneath. “I mean it when I kiss you here.”

Then he drops his head to your neck, kissing at the base of your throat, before nipping at it lightly. “And here.”

Your hands come to thread in his hair, tugging at the roots. He burrows his face lastly in your chest, snatching the nipple of one of your breasts between his teeth. “Here…”

You’re so soft and supple beneath his hands, all his to love and explore.

“I want you, all of you,” he mumbles. “Only you.”

“Oh, Koo…”

A pretty moan tumbles from your mouth, and he could nearly cry. He had surely thought you were far past the point of enraged, far past the point of pensive words shaped in a heartfelt apology to bring you back to him. But then hearing you rasp his name ━ the little cute nickname that only you call him ━ makes him so goddamn remorseful.

He smothers your lips with his once more, groaning into your mouth. “I’m such a fucking dick. I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t say that,” You whine.

“I’m sorry,” he laments. He bites at your lower lip, suckling against it. “Please let me make it up to you.”

“You already have.”

“But I’ve been such a shitty friend,” he groans. It’s hard to focus when he’s pressing his hips against yours, the forming bulge in his pants straining against the inside of your thigh. “I should’ve known when to stop. I shouldn’t have even suggested the whole thing in the first place, because then I wouldn’t have messed us all up.”

“Jungkook,” Your grip tightens in his hair. “Jungkook━ I want you so bad. Just wanna be yours.”

“Yeah?” His breath is warm as it fans against your neck. You rub your core eagerly against him, throbbing pussy so close to making contact with his dick.

“Yeah,” You mewl.

“What do you want from me?”

“You. Wanna feel your dick in me, please,” Your fingers tug at the top of his jeans, prodding at the muscles on his abdomen. “In my mouth. Can make you feel better, Koo, I promise. Just wanna be your good girl.”

“Mmm, I like the sound of that.”

He lets you push him until he’s on his back and you’re straddling his hips. Your limbs entangle with his as you shed the rest of your clothes, your own hands wandering up and down the front of his body after he’s tossed his shirt onto the floor. Then he watches as you shimmy your way down his body. You’re so zealous in pleasing him, wrapping your hand around the base of his dick, head angry and red, dribbling pearly beads of precum down the shaft and over the bulging vein that lines it. You run your thumb over the tip and down, spreading the sticky fluid over him. He grunts in response, nearly jolting at your touch, as his head drops back against his shoulders.

“Oh, fuck,” he growls.

You pump him slowly, taking you time as your closed fist glides up and down his length. He shudders each time your hand reaches the base, and becomes so carried away with your leisure teasing that his eyes are screwed shut and misses the way you dip down to kiss at the tip of his cock. His eyes immediately flutter open, a flustered expression painting his face. You lap again at the head, saltiness coating your tongue, and you let out a simpering moan that has him quivering. And when you wrap your mouth entirely around his cock, sinking down along his length, he swears he’s about to fall apart. Your eyes flicker upward to meet him and the moment they lock, so sexy and dark, he has to look away for fear of busting right then and there. He reclines back against the bed once more, his hand flying out to grab at your hair.

“You’re so good to me, baby,” he rasps.

He can feel the curve of your lips against his cock as you suck him off. You do so well, too. Puffing your cheeks out, taking as much of him as you can until it feels as if he’s hitting the back of your throat. Then, you’ll suck at the tip of his cock, tongue swirling rapidly around, as your fist rubs his shaft. It’s a beautiful mix, one that inches him closer and closer to his high, and each time you switch he has to hold it together to not let go so soon. He wants to enjoy it, needs to bask in it. Your pretty mouth doing such sinful things, making him feel as if he were in heaven.

“Shit━” His hips jut forward to meet with your mouth, accidentally hitting the back of your throat without warning. You gag a little, but don’t pull away, and when he apologizes to you hastily, you only moan in response. A thought pops into his head that has him beckon aloud, “Will you be a good girl and let me fuck your mouth? Huh, baby?”

You hum in approval, eyes shimmering with glee.

So, he plants both hands in your hair, grabs at the sides of your head, and as you hollow out your cheeks, he bucks into your mouth. He does it again and again, listening to your crescendoing mewls of delight, forming a sticky mess of drool and cum that spills onto your chin.

“God, you’re so good,” Jungkook grunts. He’s a complete wreck, eyes screwing shut, blonde tresses spilling into his lashes. The muscles in his abdomen twitch with each sharp inhale of air he takes, so mesmerized by the shape of your pretty mouth around his dick, like you were made for him. “Such a good girl, huh?”

He fucks himself into your mouth roughly, frantically. Tears start to prick at your eyes from holding your breath, yet you keep yourself together just a little longer for him, lashes fluttering shut tightly.

“All mine too,” Jungkook hisses. “Wouldn’t let Yukhei do this to you, would you? Fuck, I’m━”

With your head left immobile stuck in his grasp, you hum in disapproval instead. You know he’s close when you start to hear him panting breathily. When he cums, it’s with a fractured whine and in short hot bursts onto your tongue and down your throat. You swallow as much as you can and, when he parts from you with a resonating lewd pop, you wipe away with your knuckles at the rest of his cum leaking out of the corner of your mouth and onto your chin. Dark hooded eyes meet with yours, a mischievous glint captivating them. You crawl over to him, straddling his hips once more, chasing his mouth with yours. Your own lips are so wet, coated in saliva and cum, bruised plump, but yet you’re smiling so innocently past the way he can taste himself on his tongue.

A dazed thought pops into your head that has you murmuring wistfully against him, “Say it again. I like hearing you call me baby.”

“Hmm? What about when I call you my good girl?” Jungkook nips at your lips. He grasps at your waist, flipping you over until you’re on your back beneath him. “You treat me so well, baby; you’re my only girl, you know that.”

A contented sigh sounds from you as you rut your hips in thinning desperation to meet his, so close to rubbing against his dick nestled against his thigh. He licks at his fingers hastily, reaching between the two of you to press against your clit, rubbing leisurely at the soft bundle of nerves. He’s learned how to navigate your body after months of supposed emotionless fucking, but now? Now, he felt as if his heart may just burst through his chest. Every reaction you make to his every touch ━ the needy plea to have him make you his, call you baby ━ makes him want to see more, and more.

“Am I?” You ask hoarsely. He grasps at his dick, guiding his tip to your core, so slick and wet, glistening with your own arousal. As he pushes himself in with a hiss, he watches as you contort beneath him. “Nnngh, Jungkook━”

“Fuuck,” he groans. He sinks into you, spreading your thighs further and further apart, until his hips make contact with yours. His mouth attacks yours with a feverish passion, the rumble of his moans and your whimpers muffling against one another. Then, he remembers to answer your awaiting question, barely audible between the way his tongue lavs at yours. “You are. I’m so fucking in love with you. But I don’t deserve you.”

Your hands tug impatiently at his hair. “Stop saying that.”

“But it’s true,” he hums. He’s quick to start rutting at your hips in a steady yet agonizing pace, dick burrowing into your pussy as your walls throb and shake. He can’t help but watch, mesmerized as always by the way his length slips past your folds and disappears into you. Again, and again, and again, so lewdly destroying your pretty cunt. “Just want Yukhei to touch you all over instead, don’t you?”

“No,” You croak.

You spread your thighs instinctively wider apart, allowing him to sink even further into you until it feels as if he’s hitting you so far in your stomach. Each roll of his hips is punctuated by the crude noise of skin against skin, sending you spiralling.

“Want him to do all sorts of dirty things to you, huh?”

“N-No. Fuck, Jungkook━ Harder, please━”

“That’s what you said,” Jungkook retorts. Still, he listens to your pleas, snapping his hips into yours roughly enough to send you jolting back on the bed. His hands start to roam your body, pinching at your hips, then grasping ferociously at one of your breasts. “Want him to fuck you in his car, right?” His palm feels like fire as it slides up past your collarbones to your throat. “Want him to choke you.”

His hand comes to wrap around the underside of your jaw on your throat, thumb and index finger pressing against the pressure points there. He squeezes, though with barely any force, just enough to feel your rapid pulse beneath his digits in a way that makes you so suddenly hyper aware of everything he’s doing to you. Cock stretching you wide, palm heavy around your throat, mouth folding over yours. So caught up in the overwhelming sensations you’re feeling, you can’t tell if he’s genuinely upset with himself, though you suspect part of him is. You can sense it in the way he clings to you a little tighter, can see it laced within his dazzling pupils.

Jungkook huffs, hair flopping into his eyes as he grits his teeth and ruts his hips faster into you if only to see more of your pretty little reactions. Your jaw unhinges at the feeling, head falling back onto the pillows. “He could probably treat you nicer too.”

You shake your head wildly, fingers digging into the skin on his shoulders. “Just want you, Koo.”

“Still?” he asks. His grip on your neck fastens a little more, pure euphoria riddling all your senses and making you writhe beneath him. “God, you’re such a dumb little slut, aren’t you?”

You nod in your groggy exhaustion, the familiar burn coiling in your stomach, making your toes curl.

Jungkook feels your own high approach. Your walls are clenched so tightly around him, he has to sputter for air. “Could he make you feel like this?”

“No, Koo,” You whine. “Only you.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook growls. “Good girl. Gonna cum around my dick like the good little slut you are?”

Your hips ricochet upwards to meet his, relentless pounding into your core. “Please, please━”

Jungkook quickens his pace until you’ve deteriorated into absolute shambles, whimpering his name after each thrust. You tumble towards your high, cuming around his length as he burrows it into you again and again, and all he can think is mine, mine, mine. As you unravel beneath him, he slides his hand off of your throat and slithers it underneath you and around your waist, hoisting you slightly enough off the bed so that he can reach his own orgasm. He’s a little more frantic now, sloppy and restless as he pummels into you.

“Shit, baby━” he cries out. “Oh, fuck, you’re so good━”

As you come down from your high enough, you somehow manage to murmur drowsily, “Cum in me, Koo. Wanna feel it.”

You grab at his face, pulling him down to catch his lips on yours, and the thought is so tempting he can’t refuse. He gets so lost in your lips, cuming with one final slam of his hips into yours and a chorus of curses mingling with your name in whimpers. He rides out both of your highs with a few half-hearted thrusts, more concerned with kissing you in useless open-mouthed kisses as your own mouth parts with one last weary moan while he fills you up.

When he’s spent, he collapses against your chest, and you collapse onto the bed. It’s quiet long enough for the both of you to calm the shrill beat of your hearts when you feel Jungkook stir, moving to part from you, pulling his dick from your swollen pussy and planting a lingering peck on your cheek. He disappears momentarily but returns a few seconds later, towel in hand which he uses to wipe at your core now leaking with his cum and your heart croons at all his tender touches.

It makes you realize all at once that, god, yes, you’re so in love with your idiot best friend and he’s so in love with you.

“Jungkook.”

He turns to look at you, an adoring smile dancing upon his lips when he sees your own radiant beaming face. You beckon him over and he relents, letting you pull him into your arms. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck as he wraps his own arms around you to tug you closer to his side. As your fingers come to rake through his sweaty hair, he cranes his neck to follow your hand and hear him coo against your neck, “That feels so good.”

A sudden thought crosses your mind that has you smirking smally to yourself. “Are we… Are we cuddling? Jungkook, I thought you didn’t like cuddling. Said it was, and I quote, sentimental bullshit.”

“I never liked it because it wasn’t with you. Didn’t wanna waste my time on someone that wasn’t you,” Jungkook hums, matter-of-fact. You can tell he’s a little embarrassed at the way you so casually taunt him about such an obvious fact, though he’s fortunate you can’t see him smiling like a complete fool. “And I wanna do all that sentimental bullshit with only you. Now, shush━” He scolds you playfully. “M’so tired and I just wanna hold you tight.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Your heart leaps in your chest. “Just promise me one thing?”

It’s only then that he lifts his sleepy gaze to find yours, apprehensive of any potentially looming severity in your words. “Anything.”

Instead, all he can find is the way you trace your finger along the details of his face, from his nose, to his cheekbones, down to the freckle under his lip with the hand that sports your friendship bracelet. “In the morning, when we wake up, you’ll still be here to hold me tight. And every other morning after that.”

His smile widens even more, if that was even possible. “Wouldn’t want it any other way. But━”

“But?”

“On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

His eyes sparkle cheekily. “Kiss me.”

So, you do, again and again and again; and Jungkook thinks, yeah, he certainly can get used to this.

It takes you a month to cave in to Jungkook’s incessant pleas to fuck you to his sex playlist. You do it mostly to humour him, though part of you is a little bit intrigued at the thought.

Stowed away in his room, he eats you out to the choruses of sultry The Weeknd and raunchy Ariana Grande songs, fucks you to the likes of the Neighbourhood and Kim Petras while you’re on all fours, and you’re only half-paying attention to the music until you hear it. Admittedly, you almost completely miss it but you blame Jungkook and the way he’s making you currently feel, sprawled out beneath him, chests pressed flush against one another in a sweaty, sticky mess, breathy and glorious moans of your name filling your ears when━

“I had no choice but to hear you. You stated your case time and again━”

The dulcet chime of Alanis Morissette thrums about the room, a complete and utter shift in contrast in the atmosphere that has you immediately pausing.

“Jungkook.” But he knows what you set out to say even before you do, judging by the tone in your voice and the stifling smirk on his face. You gawk at him, biting at your lip to hide your laughter but you fail miserably. “You weren’t joking?”

He shrugs innocently, leaving you just as dumbfounded as you were two seconds ago. Instead, he says, “Gotta do what I promised then, don’t I?”

You quirk a brow. “What was that exactly?”

“Gotta give you the best orgasm of your life.”

“If you can do that to cheesy 90s pop, I’ll have your actual babies, Jungkook.” The effort is endearing and impressive, to say the least.

A roll of your eyes is met with a taunting roll of his hips into yours that wipes the jest off your face immediately. He grins like a madman, uttering a little stupidly, and a little ardently, “Say no more.”

Because, all things considered and joking aside, he wants it with you ━ the dazed daydreamy talk of a future together and kids, friendship bracelets, and cuddles in the morning. Because you mean the world to him and more. Because you’re his best friend, and he’s so madly in love with you.

Because he wants it all with you.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

13K notes · View notes

vsilas · 3 years

Text

Okay.... hear me out. T4T post-war Snarry where substance use starts them on the path to cracking their eggs and meeting as new people who are ready to give each other a second chance. A sickeningly self-indulgent fic idea, pure rambling. Target audience: me and me alone.

Transfemme Snape is on probation after the Death Eater trials and is stripped of her magic. It's temporary and much better than Azkaban but it also means that Snape is essentially a Squib for three years following the sentence. One of the things that happens as a result of this is that all of the subtle "notice-me-not" charms on the area around Spinner's End wear off and the local authorities finally decide it's time to get rid of that slum. Snape is forced to move, which is probably for the best, all things considered. Living with your abusive parents' ghosts isn't conducive to healing... and there's a lot that Snape needs to heal from. As things stand Snape really doesn't want to have anything to do with the wizarding world so she moves to a muggle town somewhere on the coast. What with not being able to do magic she also turns to muggle solutions for a lot of her problems. She makes a living tending bar (she's basically nocturnal, doesn't drink, and can quell unruly customers with a look, so it's a good fit). She starts taking medical marijuana for the chronic pain caused by her encounter with Nagini and it stops her from feeling mildly suicidal for the first time in ages. It's nothing like her life was before and so she slowly starts shedding some of the fear and pain that kept her in line and an effective tool... basically her whole life.

Trans guy Harry goes a bit wild after the whole "I died to save the wizarding world" thing. He feels like he's been robbed of his childhood, his adolescence, and basically all the experiences that "normal kids" should have, so he lets go of his remaining impulse control and starts to spiral. The summer of 1998 is rough. There's the funerals, the trials, everybody trying to pick up the pieces of their life. Harry doesn't think he has any pieces of himself left to pick up. He didn't really plan for a future after the war... he could never see himself grown up. Harry breaks up with Ginny because the way they are together makes his skin crawl, even if he can't put a finger on why that is. Ron gets really mad at Harry for dumping his sister and even more so when Harry says that he doesn't want to be an Auror anymore. He briefly goes back for his 8th year with Hermione but drops out in November when he only manages to turn in two assignments and spends most of his time finding ways to sneak off the grounds to get drunk in London clubs. Harry's friends worry about him but there's only so much they can do to help somebody who really doesn't want to be helped. Harry moves into Grimmauld Place, cuts his hair really short, and spends his nights "living" which mostly just means doing party drugs and having a few ill-advised one-night stands. When there is no one to party with, Harry gets drunk alone in Grimmauld Place and punches mirrors. He doesn’t see a future for himself so he decides to just live in the present, however long that's going to last him. He can feel a break coming, something terrifying but necessary. It feels like the only way to forward is to spiral down.

Snape, who has known something was off since she was a kid, finally lets herself accept what that thing is. It isn’t an earth-shattering revelation, just part of slipping off the masks of professor and spy and Death Eater until all that's left underneath is her. How the fuck did she fool everybody into thinking that she was a man for all these years? Maybe that’s why she was such a good spy. Started young. Hid it even from herself. It’s not really an easy thing to accept, but inevitable. Snape is already grieving everything else about her life so what's another lie, another chance at happiness that slipped away before she even knew what it was? She spends a lot of time in her shabby little flat getting stoned but she also walks along the beach and starts planning the rest of her life.

Harry cracks on another of his drunken nights out to some rather unpleasant consequences, including ministry officials having to obliviate dozens of muggles in a Camden club and a hangover so bad even potions don't help with it. Most of it gets hushed up but the yellow press takes the opportunity to start saying how the "Girl-Who-Lived" finally went off the rails, complete with an unflattering picture of Harry's new haircut (granted Harry was about to throw up when the picture was taken...). Harry lays low for a while but he is also a man of action and so he begins to research ways he could transition. St. Mungo's doesn't provide that kind of healthcare so if he wants to go the magical route he would have to figure it out himself or find an expert in gender magic... who doesn't seem to exist. There are references to a witch who brewed a potion to change her gender, but she lived in the 18th century. Being trans is stigmatized in the wizarding world so he assumes that wixen who have transitioned probably don't advertise the fact. Harry doesn't trust himself to do any magic or potion work that advanced without killing himself, so he decides to keep searching. He swears Madam Pomfrey to secrecy and asks her if she can help him. She's taken aback and tells him this kind of magic is not well studied and she doesn't know if there's a potioneer alive, other than Severus Snape maybe, who would even try working on something like that. However, even if Snape wasn't a squib and unable to brew anymore, Harry certainly isn't planning to have anything to do with his old potions professor. He decides that maybe he should just try muggle means.

Meanwhile Snape has been doing theoretical research on magical transition but hits a dead end. She needs access to a magical library, she needs to be able to actually experiment... Not to mention that she still has years of her probation left, which means years before she can even attempt transition. The only thing to do is turn to muggle means to both manage her dysphoria and maybe inspire the next stage of her research. It takes a while to secure an appointment, but one fateful day Snape walks into the reception area of a London clinic... right as Harry Potter is exiting the doctor's office after his check-in for being 3 months on T. To say that there is a moment of shocked silence would be an understatement.

They meet up for coffee and cautiously become a two-person support group for trans wixen who got fucked over by fate (and Dumbledore) and miraculously survived a war. Harry lets Snape use the library at Grimmauld Place and Snape promises to expand her research to try and develop something for him too. Harry apprentices to a curse-breaker and weathers the press dragging him through the mud every chance they get. Snape might have mellowed out a bit but she still gets on Harry's case about the drinking and not finishing school. They bicker a lot and sometimes Harry overcompensates on the machismo and acts like James, or Snape feeling a blinding rage that Harry is so fucking young and has his whole life ahead of him... but they end up coming around to each other every time. On some level, they are the only people in the world who can really understand each other.

Over the course of the next year and a half, they slowly get their lives sorted. And through that process, they become the most important people in each others' lives. What started out as reluctant solidarity grows until one day Harry can't imagine a future that doesn't have Snape in it, and Snape starts thinking of "home" as being wherever Harry is. It's not easy, considering how many issues both of them have, but it's the easiest thing in the world compared to the alternative. Cue resolution of them both magically transitioning, dealing with public perceptions, and leaning into being a scandalous power couple who doesn't take shit from anybody.

Now, if only I could write this as an actual story....

#the target audience for this is me #i feel like if i ever write a fanfic this would be it #except i can't make myself write #and if i ever do i will probably turn this into an original story #but here #i can think of maybe two people who will be into this #severus snape #serverus x harry #snarry #trans snape #trans harry potter #substance use cw #alcohol cw #self-harm cw #weed cw #idk #ask to tag

55 notes · View notes

ranboo5 · 3 years

Note

can i still ask about the homestuck au? i have some classpect opinions but i would love to hear if there’s more than that!

YES you can I needed 2 make a proper Compilation Post anyway. Uhh here's a FULLY disorganized post of all the HSAU lore I can think of. There is a clear bias toward Ranboo here

- This is where I justify Rageboo - Anyway he and Technoblade are a Ragebound Derse dreamer Dancestor pair (Ranboo's a Maid, Techno's a Sylph) - There's at least four sessions at play -- the first is DTeam+Badlands maybe and was the creator of the universe w/ the initial L'Manberg session (roughly based around some of the S1 major actors) - And THAT session is scratched to generate the NLM session (roughly based around actors more significant in S2) - (how that division is drawn is... it is still complicated the only ones ik for SURE are that Wilbur Eret and Technoblade r in the former session and Tubbo and Ranboo are in the latter. Have not decided which one Tmmy is in. I wanted him to be in the same one as Tubbo bc he's a Time player to Tubbo's Space but it may not make sense? But it also might?) - The fourth session is another completed one: it's Philza's null session. Philza is a Doom player and he's beaten the session and now is hanging out in the cluster w/ everyone else - DreamXD is a First Guardian - The genetic sequence for DreamXD is written predominantly by Ranboo who does so much more consciously than usual - Especially laid groundwork via the Amnesiac (Ranboo as Techno's ancestor) who kind of went off the rails chasing cherubs which he thought he was somehow fatewise involved with bc he's a mutant red like Techno but he's also. Smth went Extra wrong so half his blood is the requisite candyred and half is the original lime - Ranboo who plays Sburb through related reasons ended up put in The Cherub Box for the first half of his life. It fucks him up - Then he gets to troll society which also fucks him up - So he has a propensity bc of those combined experiences for hiding parts of himself, compartmentalizing, caginess, trusting nobody except himself and not even himself for that matter, privately being Not A Fan of societal expectations in general, trying to look palatable anyway, and also sitting alone in his room. You could say he's. You could say he's Homestu - The Bloodgod (Techno as Ranboo's ancestor) fought Dream (fully realized cherub) and Won. He got the horrorterrors retroactively in the brains of every iteration of him for his troubles - this is what allows Techno who plays Sburb to get the survivors out of the scratched LM1 session into the NLM session after Wilbur scratches the initial session on Nov 16th though so - Dream is a cherub btw that's kind of relevant to the above - Ranb and Techno r trolls (as mentioned above, they're lime/mutant candyred w/ Ranb having the blood weirdness and Techno bein just str8 red. Them) - Unsure abt jack anything else - To go back 2 Tubbo. So you know how the Space player is traditionally assisted by the Knight in breeding the genesis frog. - Tubbo's classpect is the Knight of Space that man is on his own - Whatever happens in Tubbo's session, Tubbo is basically left functionally to breed the frog on his own - While YOU were FUCKING AROUND going into RETIREMENT and DOING FETCH QUESTS, TUBBO was TRYING TO WIN THE FUCKING GAME - He ends up ghosting Doom. This is a thing you can do I chedked the fucking literature okay ghosting is not definitionally just your opposite aspect it's just acting your aspect in a way that outwardly (intentionally or not) evokes another Tubbo ghosts Doom - Dream and Tubbo both Prospit dreamers btw I only just realized this but yeah - Niki Life player also - Quackity Hope player - I don't remember what the meta was for this one but Wilbur Light - Oh and the literal only land I have worked out is Ranboo's which is LoRaO (Land of Rivers and Obsidian) - Anyway Techno has a whole Sylph of Rage arc he does it with his session he does it in NLM he may godtier in the equivalent of the Butcher Army? - If there is an Alternia/Beforus similarity w/ the sessions here Techno is definitely on the Alternia one. He's having a time - He also has to deal with (and be. I am an apologist but. There's a reason I classpected him the way I did) the concept of Sylph (derogatory) of Rage (derogatory) - Idk what his land is. I could make a potato joke but I feel that's low hanging fruit. Smth to do with the Arctic maybe... - He's definitely one of the first 2 be in contact with Philza also - I also Only have his and Ranboo's typing quirks worked out bc of course:

For Ranb: You are si imultaneously unsu ure and also ki inda wi ith a tende ency to double do own on thi ings, and you don't te end to use end pu unctuation a who ole lo ot, really, you ju ust ha ave a lo ot of qualifyi ing to do ju ust all the ti ime, and a te endency also to li ike, ra amble, ki inda. (simultaneously unsure and also kinda with a tendency to double down on things, and you don't tend to use end punctuation a whole lot, really, you just have a lot of qualifying to do, just, all the time, and a tendency also to like, ramble, kinda.) (when he starts Actually Punctuating His Sentences yk he means Business) For Techno: You tend to speak in a [PIG+++] kindaa drawlingg mannerr, withh thee occasionall Weirdd Emphasiss. forr thee effectt, yknoww. forr thee Brandd evenn

- peerpressure be like [have letter doubling quirks] - OH also. As ancestors Ranboo and Techno (or the Amnesiac and the Bloodgod as it were) both wrote Troll Art of War in their respective timelines

#three dont look

12 notes · View notes

alolowrites · 4 years

Text

A Cry for Help

Summary: A hero finds a little girl crying and helps find her parents.

Author’s Note: I was hoping to post these drabbles on Father’s Day, but the idea slipped in my mind around 5pm and well...yeah. Guess I’m early for next year? (hahaha, but no seriously, maybe I am).

Following heroes are Shouta (Eraserhead), Toshinori (All Might), and Taishiro (Fatgum) because they are just such wholesome dads.

Please enjoy!

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

Shouta Aizawa/Eraserhead

The bubblegum music plays on an endless loop in the children’s clothing store. All the songs from the playlist mesh together as one. Not even the singers’ voices are distinct thanks to the heavy use of autotune; it drowns out the entire shop. Fortunately, Shouta has years of experience dealing with this kind of nuisance—he thanks Present Mic for that.

Shouta ignores the constant, not-so-subtle, stares from the other customers. Even some employees glance at him, their perky smiles fumbling when Shouta catches their eye. The hero knows he sticks out like a sore thumb; he dressed all drab and dreary like the weather outside.

Yet, Shouta does not care if they gawk, just as long as they don’t interfere in his personal space.

One hand glides the pastel-colored blouses along the rail. Shouta is shopping for new clothes for Eri, much to Present Mic's displeasure; he finds Shouta's fashion sense questionable ever since the cat sweater fiasco.

'A little overdramatic, much?' Shouta scoffs as he inspects a purple shirt with massive ruffles running along the sleeves. An adorable image of a kitten graces the front side and he adds the shirt in his basket.

The clothes rack on his right starts whimpering. Shouta raises an eyebrow and slides the sweaters away to see a little girl hiding inside; she seems to be around Eri’s age based on her small frame. Shouta frowns as he hears her cries.

“Hey,” the girl jumps at the gentle voice. An unfamiliar face hovers above her with a concerned expression. He kneels, but keeps a respectable distance, “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. Why are you crying, little one?”

“I-I…don't…my…mommy,” she wails as fresh tears rush down her puffy cheeks, “I-I want-t mommy-y.”

“You lost your mom. I see why that makes you sad,” Shouta digs out a handkerchief and hands it over to the trembling girl. She grabs it and Shouta nods, “First, take some deep breaths…that’s it, good job. Now, my name is Shouta. What is your name?”

She wipes away her tears, “Asumi.”

“Well then, Asumi, I will help find your mother, okay?”

“Really?” A sense of hope shines through her eyes.

“I promise,” Shouta shifts his balance and extends a hand toward Asumi. Not a second later, she takes it and crawls out the dark clothes rack. Her legs wobble, and she asks if Shouta could carry her; he doesn’t hesitate and scoops Asumi in his arms, disregarding the shopping bag filled with clothes; he’ll come back for it later.

Shouta informs an employee about the situation and asks for directions to the mall security office. The entire walk is quiet with an occasional sniffle here and there. Asumi’s fingers toy with his signature wrap scarf to help ease her sad thoughts. However, one slips through and she whimpers, “Will my mommy find me?”

“I’ll make sure she will.”

They arrive at the office in ten minutes. Shouta speaks with an officer and offers to remain with Asumi until they locate her mother. An idea runs through his head once the hero spots a colorful bulletin with other children's drawings. Asumi observes the artwork and slowly opens up as she points out what she likes about them; Shouta adds his thoughts, but keeps his focus on Asumi’s answers—it works.

Shouta turns around when a frantic voice booms from the entrance. The little girl’s face lights up like a Christmas tree. He quickly puts her down, not doubting that the woman standing in front was her mother. Asumi screams, “Mommy!”

“Asumi, sweetheart!” She kneels and embraces the little girl with a bone-crushing hug. Mother and daughter reunite at last, much to Shouta’s relief. Once the mother stops attacking Asumi’s face with her kiss, she stares at the quiet hero and smiles, “Thank you for finding and keeping her safe, sir! Thank you, thank you!”

“You’re welcome,” Shouta shoves his hands in his pockets and crouches to meet Asumi’s eye level, patting her head, “You’re a brave girl, Asumi. It was nice meeting you.”

Asumi rushes to give Shouta a bear hug, catching the hero off-guard for a second. He returns the gesture, a faint grin creeping above his scarf. Asumi grabs her mother’s hand again and happily skips away, but not before chirping, “Bye, Mr. Shouta!”

Those three words keep his heart warm for the entire day.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

Toshinori Yagi/All Might

Toshinori overlooks the quiet sea at Takoba Municipal Beach Park. He enjoys coming here on his days off to get lost in his thoughts. The retired hero once again admires Midoriya’s remarkable efforts to clean the area—he’s come so far.

The waves barely touch the grainy sand, and a seagull soars above in search of food. Other people from around the neighborhood stroll through the beach as well. Even so, the locals do not pester him, and Toshinori is grateful for this, inhaling the natural scent only Mother Earth could produce.

A little cry catches his attention. Toshinori whips around to see a little girl wandering down the beach and rubbing her eyes. He may not be All Might, but the heart of a hero still burns inside him. Toshinori cautiously approaches the girl and calls out, “What’s wrong, young one?”

She stops in her tracks and peeks at the tall man. Toshinori finally gets a good look at the child and notices how red her face is. The girl’s body shakes like a volcano as she bawls, “I-I can’t find my daddy-y!”

“Oh dear,” Toshinori frowns and crouches to the child’s eye level. He gives a comforting squeeze on her shoulder, which somewhat stops the crying. Her head bobbles as she breathes rapidly and snot oozes down her nostril. Toshinori fishes for some tissues in his pocket, “Here, my child. You must feel very scared, but everything is all right, because I am here.”

“C-can you help find my d d-daddy?”

“Of course,” Toshinori nods and asks, “What’s your name, little one?”

“Asumi.”

“And how old are you, Asumi?”

“Five,” she sniffs while showing Toshinori five fingers, “But I’m turning six soon.”

“You are? That sounds exciting!”

Asumi cocks her head once her sadness subsides, “What’s your name?”

“My name is Toshinori, but you can call me Toshi,” he answers, and Asumi relaxes at the sound of his gentle voice. As the former Symbol of Peace stands up, he extends his hand to Asumi, who instantly grabs it. Toshinori feels how dainty and fragile her hand is. His, on the other hand, is rough. Sometimes he forgets it's like that after years fighting off villains, including All For One. Asumi’s innocent eyes gaze up, and he smiles, “Let’s go find your father.”

Toshinori walks in the direction she came from; hopes to find her father if he retraces her steps. The blonde man makes small talk to keep Asumi occupied. Her mouth is like a running waterfall as she shares everything she likes to do: playing on the swings, making songs on her toy instruments, baking cookies at home—It’s a wide range. Toshinori listens to every word, including the time she found a worm and named it Wormy; Asumi wrinkles her nose, “Worms are so squishy.”

“Yes, they are,” he chuckles before feeling a slight tug, “What’s the matter?”

“I see my daddy!” Asumi hops like a bunny and points to a frantic man wearing a red scarf. Toshinori suggests to get closer since he wants to make sure this person is her father. Asumi nods, and the two head forward. Once a few feet away, Asumi squeals, “Daddy!”

“Pumpkin!” He collapses on the sandy beach and nearly stumbles backward when Asumi crashes into his chest. Toshinori feels his heart stir at the beautiful reunion. The father finally glances over Asumi’s shoulder and gasps, “All Might! It’s an honor to meet you, sir!”

“He helped me find you, daddy!” Asumi bounces on her tippy-toes.

Toshinori coughs into his fist, “I found her crying nearby and realized she was lost. There was no way I could leave such a poor girl all alone.”

Asumi’s father scoops the child in his arms and gives a slight bow, “Thank you, All Might, for bringing her back. She’s very adventurous and tends to wander away a lot.”

“Daddy, his name is Toshi!”

“All Might is my other name, young one.”

“I like Toshi more,” she says with no room for arguing. Her word is final.

The retired hero grins, “I like it, too.”

“Yay! Okay!” Asumi claps and waves, “Bye, Toshi!”

“Goodbye, Asumi!” Toshinori watches as the father and daughter pair walk away, the little girl rambling everything that happened to her. Once they disappear from his view, Toshinori realizes how quiet the beach is. Surprisingly, he misses his conversation with Asumi—they are wild and full of imagination.

He hopes they’ll cross paths once again.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

Taishiro Toyomitsu/Fatgum

If there is one thing Fatgum loves the most, it’s doing hero patrol during a food festival. His nose catches a whiff of yakitori grilled over a charcoal fire. Each skewer is seasoned to perfection and soaked with a healthy amount of tare sauce. Fatgum buys five sticks, but regrets not grabbing more after he inhales all of them in one go.

Luckily a fresh batch of takoyaki calls his name. He arrives at the booth and chitchats with two older men who cook up a storm. Each crispy ball flips faster than Fatgum could blink—a technique that never fails to impress him. The hero bids farewell once he receives his order, promising to visit again before the festival is over.

As Fatgum swims through the crowd with his delicious street snack, he overhears a faint cry on his left. The hero hastily swallows his takoyaki and steps toward the wooden boxes. Peering over, Fatgum raises his eyebrows when he spots a little girl cowering behind them. She notices a large shadow looming over and snaps her head up.

Fatgum pouts at the sight of her tears, “Whoa there, what’s a lil gal like you hidin’ out here all alone? Ya’ hurt, buttercup?”

“I…lost…my…mommy-y…and dad-dy,” she hiccups in between each word, her loud sobs piercing Fatgum’s weak heart. A determined look briefly crosses his face before he hurries past the boxes to be near her. Out of nowhere, the girl feels a gentle pat on her head. She pulls away from her damp knees.

“It’s okay, buttercup,” Fatgum soothes the broken child, “I’m a hero, and I’ll help ya’ find your parents. Does that sound good to ya?”

She meekly nods.

“Okay then,” he hums with a soft smile, “My name is Fatgum. What’s your name?”

“Asumi…”

“What a precious name!” Fatgum beckons for Asumi to come forward. She wipes the tears away on her forearm before crawling over and holds his warm hand. Stepping away from her hiding place, Asumi shrinks behind his leg when she realizes how crowded the street is. Fatgum glances down and asks, “Do ya’ want me to carry ya,’ buttercup? I promise to ya’ safe, ‘k?”

She nods before being scooped up in Fatgum’s arm. Asumi is like a frightened kitten who clings to the jolly hero for dear life. He doesn’t mind and gives her a comforting squeeze. An idea soon pops into his head as he shows Asumi the last takoyaki, “I want ya’ to have it. Food always makes me feel better when I’m sad.”

Asumi takes a tiny bite and beams—it’s delicious. As time passes by, she slowly comes out of her shell, which makes Fatgum happy; he keeps her entertained with fun games like “I Spy” all while trying to locate an officer. Asumi eagerly points to a food stall selling taiyaki, and Fatgum wastes no time buying her the sweet treat.

After the quick pitstop, they continue their leisurely stroll through the festival until a guard post emerges from the tumultuous sea. Fatgum notices a police officer jotting down notes from a man consoling his wife. Maybe they’re Asumi’s parents, he thinks and is proven correct when Asumi yells, “Mommy! Daddy!”

“Asumi!” Both adults rush toward Fatgum, cutting their conversation short with the police officer. They weep tears of joy when their daughter squeals in her mother’s arms. Asumi’s father enthusiastically shakes the hero’s hand, “Oh, thank you, Fatgum! My wife and I will forever be grateful that you brought our little Asumi back, safe and sound.”

“Oh, no need to thank me! A hero has to keep everybody safe and happy,” Fatgum flashes a smile that is as bright as the sun, “Even the little ones!”

Both parents thank Fatgum once more before they take their leave. Asumi squirms in her mom’s grasp to stare over the woman’s shoulder. The little girl waves her half-eaten taiyaki in the air and shouts, “Bye, Mr. Fatgum!”

“Bye, Asumi!”

Such a precious cinnamon roll.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

Thanks for reading!

#shouta aizawa #toshinori yagi #taishiro toyomitsu #eraserhead #all might #fatgum #dadzawa #dad might #bnha imagines #fat gum #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

144 notes · View notes

anderseeds · 4 years

Text

I saw a Witcher/Hellsing crossover mentioned in the tag and I was just inundated with ideas for it, so I’ll ramble here instead of attaching a tl;dr to that post. I’m a huge fan of the Witcher, and yet somehow I’ve never actually considered a Witcher AU for Hellsing (and Andercard of course; it’s my modus operandi). This is based on the Witcher games, books, and a little bit of the The Witcher RPG since the Netflix show isn’t my thing.

First of all, for the unfamiliar:

Witcher = a person (usually as a child) that has been mutated and trained to be a monster hunter. They have greater endurance, enhanced healing, enhanced senses, are able to drink potions that would be deadly to the average person, and can perform a small degree of magic called ‘signs’. One can tell a person is a Witcher by their eyes, since they look like cats eyes. Sometimes Witcher’s have other indications, but the eyes are the most consistent feature.

To become a Witcher, a candidate must go through three trials. All of them are exceptionally difficult and painful. The first two trials, the Trials of Grasses and Dreams, basically break down the body through use of various potions and rebuild it, while the third is basically a test for those who survive the first two trials. Very few children put through the trails survive; sometimes there’s only one survivor among those brought in to undergo the trials, and those who die do so in complete agony. Understandably, many Witcher’s are bitter about this whole ordeal and resent being turned into what they are. Witcher’s are also regarded with suspicion and dislike and no better than the monsters they kill, which makes being a Witcher even more torrid.

Vampires = vampires in the Witcher aren’t like your traditional vampires. They’re a race rather than creatures born of humans and they reproduce as any other creature does. Lesser vampires are generally unintelligent, beastly, bat-like creatures, while Higher vampires are intelligent and near indistinguishable from a human. Higher vampires often live among the other races and can integrate well, though some choose to live only among their own, and a rare few even stay with Lesser vampires. While Higher vampires are very different from their Lesser counterparts, they can turn into giant bats or similar creatures.

Higher vampires also don’t need blood to subsist. They can eat whatever they like, but some vampires do drink blood because blood is addictive to them and offers an experience not unlike drinking alcohol. Blood also has rejuvenating and strengthening qualities to it. Lesser vampires do seem to drink blood as part of their diet.

Honestly, Witcher vampires require a lot of explanation, so here’s the wiki for them. They’re a really interesting take on vampires.

Conjunction of the Spheres = a point in history where different dimensions collided with the world of the Dwarves and Gnomes and various different races fell through rifts and got trapped there. At the time the books start, they’ve all been there for well over a millennia and have thoroughly integrated.

Anderson:

Since Nilfgaard is based on the Roman Empire and has a religion functionally similar to Catholicism, I think it’d be appropriate to place Anderson as being from there. He’d be proud of being Nilfgaardian and would introduce himself as a Witcher of Nilfgaard alongside mentioning his guild. But being a Nilfgaardian Witcher is kind of an oxymoron since the Witcher schools were around before Nilfgaard started spreading through the South, and Witcher’s aren’t actually wanted or really used there anymore... in fact, the school most strongly associated with Nilfgaard - the Viper school, which is where I’m placing Anderson - was straight up destroyed by Nilfgaard. An Emperor (Upsurpur of Fergus var Emreis, specially) tried to take over the School of the Viper, failed, and then the Nilfgaardian army destroyed their keep and banned the Viper Witcher’s from entering core Nilfgaardian cities. Nowadays, most Nilfgaardian’s barely know what Witcher’s even are. Viper Witcher’s are thoroughly displaced; unwanted and relatively unknown in the South, reviled in the North, and with no keep to take refuge in, but Anderson still considers himself Nilfgaardian and is loyal to the Empire and the Great Sun despite no longer being welcome in his home city. He’s also has loyalty to Emhyr because he always regarded Fergus’ son as the rightful Emperor during the Usurpers reign and he’s happy when Emhyr returns to take the throne.

Before all that happened, Anderson grew up in various orphanages in Nilfgaard, going first from a decent one in the City of Golden Towers, and then to an over-packed and impoverished one closer to the border. Support for the orphanage eventually fell through, and almost all the children ended up at the Viper school when a Viper Witcher saw an exciting opportunity to expand the guild and took all the boys. Anderson went on to become a Witcher, while all but one other orphan died during the trials.

The potions used on Anderson were experimental and had a lot of vampire components for regeneration purposes. Anderson has a chip on his shoulder about that and specialises in hunting vampires as both a consequence of his hatred, and because his enhancements make it easier for him than his fellow Witcher’s.

Continuing under the read more since this is getting long.

Since Anderson’s trials emphasised regeneration, he has very accelerated healing and benefits hugely from Witcher healing potions. To accommodate his frequent use of potions, Anderson has a very high tolerance, which has been strengthened by both himself and teachers in his youth by repeatedly testing his limits. In battle, he tends toward longer blades than his fellow Viper’s and keeps a multitude of them on hand. He’s particularly good at using them as projectiles. His signs are used on occasion, but not often; everything but his Yrden and Quen are relatively weak. Sometimes he uses potions to bump up his Igni.

He’s also just a well-read and educated as he is in manga/OVA. The School of the Viper highly valued knowledge, so all Witcher’s received a decent education. Anderson built on this by attending lectures at academy's during his journeying and has visited and appreciated Oxenfurt Academy a few times despite it being a Northern institution.

His visual mutations are fairly mild: bright green, slitted cat eyes and slightly pointed canines. He gets the same sort of toxicity appearance as Geralt in the games if he takes too many potions (reference). He can pretend to be human with some effort, but the eyes are hard to hide since the pupils are slitted and they have a degree of luminescence.

While the keep still stood, Anderson collected information on the Wild Hunt alongside his fellow Witcher’s. He also became a teacher of young Witcher’s, but many of them died during the conflict at the keep and more still when Viper’s had to remain on the path year round instead of wintering at their home. Eventually some of the remaining Viper’s did start wintering at other places/keeps despite their reclusive, secretive nature, but a lot of Viper’s simply remained on the path year round. Anderson is among those who rarely chooses to winter and will instead travel to a warmer climate to do work.

Many provinces in the south are... fairly safe and prosperous, so Anderson often travels around all the Continent to find work. He has some disdain for Northerners like he does Protestants in canon, especially since they treat him like a monster while most Nifgaardian’s don’t even know what he is. Basically, Melitele and the Eternal Fire are stupid, Elves are hot respectable beings, Northerners are barbarians, dwarves and gnomes who??, and god don’t even get him started on Skellige. Typical Nilfgaardian in his opinions.

Alucard:

Alucard is a little harder to figure out since I like to think of Alucard as one of the vampires that arrived during the Conjunction of the Spheres, and we don’t actually know all that much about the world vampires came from... the books have basically nothing. The games expand on vampire lore by giving us three tribes and links to Etruscan civilisation, but its still slim pickings. Since Alucard stayed in society and assimilated, I think it’s fair to say he was part of the Gharasham tribe.

I also think vampires were generally peaceful since if one kills a fellow vampire in the games, they’re rejected and pursued by vampire kind. That might not be the case in the world vampires came from... but since other vampires are the only ones who can kill a fellow higher vampire, they would have to be somewhat peaceful to accommodate their longevity and near inability to die. Alucard might have warred once or twice, but it isn’t until he encounters humans that he really starts going off the rails.

Over a thousand or so years, Alucard kills humans for fun and consumption and gets into human husbandry. When the Witcher’s start being made, numerous of them try to kill him over the years, and all of them fail... until a group surges in together and defeats him. He’s consequently stuck in a state of non-death for a century before a fellow vampire locates him and helps him reform. Luckily, Alucard doesn’t return to his awful ways, because a century of being isolated and stuck in a never-ending state of fear taught him a lesson in basic decency. He develops some respect for humans, and especially for Witcher’s.

His interest turns to observing humans and Witcher’s instead, and they’re a lot more complex and interesting than he gave them credit for. Especially a certain green-eyed Witcher who seems to particularity dislike vampires... he does, however, still indulge in blood on occasion, since he sees no issue with drinking of those who seek battle with him or do ill unto others. Maybe innocents get caught up in that sometimes, but he doesn’t deliberately go after them these days.

On top of being a higher vampire, Alucard would also be an Elder vampire since that seems to be the case for all vampires who came during the Conjunction of the Spheres. It fits the fact that the Elder vampires are incredibly, incredibly powerful beings. Staying true to canon, he’s perhaps the most powerful of Elder vampires, being among the first to arrive and active enough to keep him in peak form, while other Elder vampires are withered recluses.

Since he partakes in so much blood, it could qualify as a drinking problem... but he drinks so much of it that its gotten to the point that it rarely negatively impacts him.

Together:

Alucard finds himself fixated on a vampire hunter Witcher he hears about during his journeying. They clash a few times, and Alucard thoroughly impressed with Anderson’s abilities and it convinces him to tail Anderson through the North (and occasionally in the South). It takes decades for Anderson to warm up to Alucard, but Alucard’s thousands of years old; he can wait! And he does, doggedly pursuing Anderson until they develop an amicable rivalry.

This would probably take place after or before the events of the main books (not the short story ones). Otherwise, there’d be an awful lot going on around them.

#hellsing #alucard #alexander anderson #andercard

39 notes · View notes

poetryinmotion-author · 3 years

Text

Names in Clan Djarin

Hi friends!

Every character I have written has a specially-chosen name. Whether that name had a specific meaning, a certain cadence, or even if it just sounded good, I agonize over the names of my characters. I've been meaning to talk about it for a long time, and now, I finally have some space to do so!

Without further ado, let's talk about how I named my original characters in the Clan Djarin series! I'll start with the Nevarro Three. :)

ELLIS KAZAN: The name Ellis had been kicking around in my head for a character for a long time; I just needed to find it a proper footing. An English/Welsh name, it's notably gender neutral—making it perfect for my lovely enby Mirialan. It also hints at the English accent that Mirialan characters tend to have in Star Wars, i.e. Luminara Unduli (my favorite Jedi master) and Barris Offee (WHO DESERVED BETTER!).

As for the last name Kazan, I used it as a nod to the Middle Eastern/Muslim influence that's clear with a lot of the Mirialan culture and dress. It's a common surname in the Mediterranean and Middle Eastern world, so I thought it would fit well for them. Plus—it just sounded right. That's always important. :)

One more note on Ellis—their name derives from “Elijah,” who, if you didn't know, is a prominent prophet in the Hebrew Testament. It only makes sense, then, that Ellis would serve as an access point to the mystical in Din's life.

NEH'NAA: Neh'naa's name is a Twi'lekization of the name Nina. Honestly, the name just sounded right, you know what I mean? It just sounds bright, cheerful, friendly—exactly the kind of woman our Neh'naa is.

Twi'lekizing a name that already exists in our world is relatively simple. For me, I considered how the name Nina would have been pronounced using Old and Middle English pronunciation. Before the Great Vowel Shift, our vowels sounded very different: “Ah,” “ee” “ay” “oh” “oo” instead of how we pronounce a, e, i, o, u today. So, in Modern English, we say “Nee-nah,” but in Old and Middle English, we would pronounce it “Nay-nah.” Spell it phonetically, add an extra “a” and an apostrophe, and voilá—a Twi'lekized version of Nina.

TOBALAS: Tobalas is a “Star Wars-ified” version of the name “Tobias.” It’s kind of funny, but as I was trying to formulate Tobalas’s character, my sister was watching the Divergent movies in the same room. And the name Tobias (which is Four’s real name) just jumped out at me. Another name that just felt right for this character, I've only just now really researched the meaning of the name. And honestly, it totally fits. Tobiah was a hero in the apocryphal Book of Tobit, wherein, with the help of the angel Raphael, he fights off a demon from a woman who later becomes his wife. And you may just see Tobias fighting some demons with the help of an angel at some point in his career as a character......

Tobias, to me, is a very serious name. I associate it with a certain level of self-assurance mixed with a hint of devil-may-care attitude. That attitude comes through in his interactions with Din (whose name, by the way, is derived from Arabic and means “way” or “path.” Just FYI.). Din is very serious, not to be trifled with; Tobias rails against that structure, wanting to do things his way.

For the “Star Wars-ifying,” I literally just made it up. I toyed around with what consonants could replace the “i” in Tobias, and after going through almost the whole alphabet, I landed on “l.”

So, there you have it! A long-ass ramble about my naming practices. I’m thinking I might post another about the villains and their names. I hope you enjoyed this look into the behind-the-scenes!

Until Tomorrow (or Tuesday),

E <3

#star wars #the mandalorian #clan djarin series #behind the scenes #writing #naming characters is a complicated profession #the naming of cats is no laughing matter

7 notes · View notes

today-only-happens-once · 5 years

Text

Caving In (Part 2)

Title: Caving In (Part 2)

Word Count: 6343

Summary: Virgil doesn’t really know what happened, but he can’t ignore the ripple of effect it has across the Mindscape. Even if Thomas keeps trying to. Platonic LAMPT.

Warnings: angst in droves, hopeful ending, tears, aggression and anger from multiple characters, denial/self-deception, some violence (kind of? It’s protective manhandling/shoving), mentions of being locked/trapped in a room, lots of arguing and some yelling, some cursing, mention of character collapsing, Dark Sides (i.e. Deceit and Remus are both in this fic) fulfilling their functions in ways that are not necessarily beneficial for Thomas (so they’re kind of Morally Gray but tend more towards villain-vibes in this fic), allusions to being triggered but the trigger is never specified, allusions to panic attacks.

Author’s Note: This fic feels… very different from that kinds of stuff I usually write. Which means I’m Mega Nervous. I don’t wanna ramble too much here, since I tend to over-explain and/or share too much when I’m nervous to post. Just wanna give mega props to @creativenostalgiastufffor helping me talk through this fic and letting me harass her whenever the nervousness got Too Much.

...

Read part 1 here!

...

Nothing is right.

Virgil can’t shake the feeling of uneasiness deep in his gut when he wakes up—as if sleep didn’t ease the tension he carried with him, but rather just put it on pause. Virgil sits up and scrubs a hand across his eyes, hating the way the shadows of his room linger in the corners with watchful eyes. Taunting him with the understanding that his room had been witness to… to something, even as Virgil still wasn’t sure how to make sense of it.

What had happened yesterday? Virgil had wracked his brain into the late hours of the morning for some kind of explanation before sleep finally claimed him. Usually, when he had such a dilemma, he’d pad his way quietly to Logan’s corner of the Mindscape and ask the Logical Side to share his thoughts. Logan had always been grounded and calm and willing to help.

But last night, Virgil didn’t go to Logan. With the mere thought of the Logical Side came the accompanying images of him with black eyeshadow, stiff shoulders, and unsteady steps. Logan had told Thomas to rest, and then went to his own room without another word. And each thought of going to either Roman or Patton brought similar images back to his mind.

Virgil tries to take a deep breath to appease the queasiness of his stomach. It doesn’t help as much as he wished it would.

The Anxious Side makes his way to the kitchen with his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie. He knows it’s late morning, if not already the afternoon. The Mindscape is….eerily silent. On most days, even in the absence of conversation, Virgil could at least hear the movement of the other Sides going about their business. On good days, Roman would be singing somewhere. Or Logan would be shuffling through papers. Or Patton would be watching a movie.

It’s silent. It makes Virgil’s skin crawl.

He rounds the corner around the banister, surprised—given how quiet it is—to see Logan sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and a book.

“Morning,” Virgil ventures with a forced nonchalance. He glances at Logan out of the corner of his eye as he makes his way to the counter. The eyeshadow as faded out, but there’s still something stiff and uncomfortable about the way Logan is sitting. Virgil eyes the coffee, but he isn’t sure he can stomach the bitter liquid right now with how tangled the knots in his stomach are.

“It is 12:34,” Logan replies, matter-of-fact. Impossible to read. He doesn’t look up from his book. “Which technically makes it afternoon.”

Virgil hums. “Noted.”

Everything is uncomfortable and awkward and wrong. Virgil hates it. He hates how he suddenly doesn’t know how to act around anyone. He’d compare it to before he ducked out, but in some ways it’s even worse. Because even when he was “the bad guy”, he knew what to do. This is different. He wants to know what happened yesterday. He doesn’t know if it’s okay to ask.

Then again, Virgil supposes that if he were to ask any of them, Logan would be the best choice. He’d get a straight answer, anyway.

“Hey, uh,” Virgil tries as he opens a cupboard to avoid looking at the Logical Side, “Logan?”

“Hm?”

Virgil knows it’s best to ask point-blank, so he lets the question tumble past his lips before he can chicken out. “What happened yesterday?”

There’s a long pause. Virgil stops staring absently at the collection of mugs he doesn’t plan to use and instead glances over his shoulder. Logan meets his gaze quietly, then he sighs softly. Logan closes his book and sets it on the table in front of him.

“Thomas—” Logan’s mouth snaps shut with an audible, sudden click. He clenches his jaw, a flash of something—panic? Anger?—through his eyes. Virgil frowns and opens his mouth to say something when a different voice speaks up from the entryway to the kitchen.

“Thomas is fine, Virgil,” a familiar, deep voice purrs. “No need to go asking around about something that’s in the past.”

Virgil whirls towards the voice, his hands instinctively curling into fists. “Deceit.”

The Lying Side arcs an eyebrow. “Virgil. Lovely to see you again.”

“What do you want?”

Deceit pushes himself off from leaning against the entryway and steps further into the kitchen. “The same thing you do. Ultimately, anyway.”

Virgil glances at Logan, whose resolute silence and grinding jaw only serves to make Virgil angrier on his behalf. The Anxious Side glares at Deceit. “Cut the bullshit. Why won’t you let Logan talk?”

“Relax, Virgil.” Deceit glances down at a gloved hand, then back up. “I’m merely being honest on Logan’s behalf. Let him save his breath. Thomas is fine.”

“Somehow I don’t believe you.”

Deceit takes a step forward, his gaze suddenly intense and sharp. There’s a demanding edge in his eyes, even as his voice keeps that infuriating smoothness. “You never do. Especially when it comes to Thomas being okay. But tell me something, Anxiety. If you keep making something out of nothing, where is that going to lead Thomas?”

“I—”

“I’ll tell you where,” Deceit hisses, moving even closer. “Pain. That none of us asked for. If you keep digging where there is nothing to be found, you’re not going to benefit anyone. You’re certainly not going to benefit Thomas.”

Virgil stands his ground. “I’m trying to protect him.”

Deceit’s yellow eye glints slightly as he gives him a scrutinizing stare. “We all are. But don’t let the fact that you happen to feel uneasy cloud your judgement. I, too, am part of Thomas’s self-preservation. And I can assure you: Thomas is fine.”

Virgil chances a glance towards Logan, surprised to find him gone. The Anxious Side doesn’t know when he left. Deceit’s words reverberate in his skull. Thomas is fine. Thomas is fine. Thomas is fine.

“You’re a bad liar, Deceit,” Virgil snaps. “I don’t even want to believe you on this one.”

Deceit’s gaze narrows before he pulls back, a look in his eyes that makes Virgil suddenly uncomfortable. “Hm. Takes a liar to know a liar.”

Virgil disguises the sudden chill that runs down his spine with a scoff and an eye-roll. When he looks back at where Deceit had been standing, he’s gone.

…

Hours later, Virgil still can’t stop thinking about what Deceit had said.

Thomas is fine.

Virgil had always been dedicated to the idea of ensuring that was true. That was his job—make sure Thomas is fine. Physically, socially, financially, emotionally. Fine. If there was a risk to that, it was Virgil’s job to make sure Thomas limited that risk as much as possible. Sure, sometimes Virgil overdid it, but he’d gotten better at that, hadn’t he?

Thomas had told him once, it’s important for me to recognize the concern, register it, and carry on, changing my actions if necessary. And the host had, for the most part, held up his end of the bargain. When Virgil was concerned, Thomas at least listened to what he had to say. Sometimes he changed his mind, sometimes he didn’t. But Thomas still let Virgil make sure he was, well. Fine.

Deceit is capable of telling the truth. Virgil knows this. In some ways, Virgil can’t help but think, it’s precisely what makes him so frustrating.

Thomas is fine.

Is he?

Virgil groans to himself, flipping his hood up over his hair. He leans his head back against the arm of the couch and stares up at the ceiling of the Mindscape Commons. His thoughts are running in circles. It occurs to him, distantly, that he still hasn’t seen Patton or Roman today.

As if on cue, Virgil hears someone coming down the stairs. He picks his head up and glances over. Usually, the Anxious Side could tell who it was by the rhythm and weight of their steps. But these are heavier and slower than usual. Virgil can’t help the faint note of surprise when Roman emerges, in his usual Prince attire but somehow lacking a certain vivacity that usually emanated from him like a beacon.

Roman doesn’t even seem to notice him on the couch. He has a few strands of hair falling into his face, and Virgil thinks he can still see faint traces of eyeshadow lingering like a faded bruise around his eyes. Roman pauses at the bottom of the stairs with his hand still on the banister railing. He looks… out of it. He looks quiet and small and so unlike Roman it makes Virgil’s stomach squirm with discomfort.

“Roman?” Virgil ventures quietly, sitting up more fully. “You okay, dude?”

Roman blinks quickly and shakes his head, seemingly finally noticing the other Side in the room. “Virgil,” he greets, and even his voice sounds exhausted. Roman smiles dimly. “I’m afraid I’m a bit tired. Nothing a little caffeine can’t fix.”

Virgil wants to remind him that it’s almost three in the afternoon. He doesn’t. “I think Logan drank the last of the coffee,” he says instead. He watches Roman closely.

“Ah. Well.” Roman blinks hard again, then glances uncertainly back at Virgil. “I suppose I should go assist Thomas. No rest for the weary, and all that. We can make do.”

Virgil had always been well attuned to the anxieties of Roman, Logan, and Patton. Roman’s insecurities about his performance and others’ perception of it radiated from him in waves on the bad days. Roman may be Thomas’s ego, but he is also the other side of that same coin in equal weight. Hesitation and self-doubt are not new emotions to pass through Roman’s eyes.

But the uncertainty behind his brown irises as he glances at Virgil is something different. It’s not his regular brand of self-doubt; it’s not the kind with which Virgil already knows how to help.

“Roman,” Virgil says suddenly as he realizes the Prince is about to leave. Roman stops and Virgil swallows. “You don’t… seem good.”

Virgil wishes immediately that he had said something else, because he sees the way Roman starts throwing up walls. Starting with the dramatic show of an offended gasp. “Excuse you, I am the single most delicious snack—”

“Dude,” Virgil cuts in, “Stop. It’s me you’re talking to. Look, I wasn’t trying to make this into a whole thing. I’m just…. Worried.” Understatement.

“Virgil—”

“Is this about what happened yesterday?”

The question is met with a startled silence. When Virgil meets Roman’s eyes, he realizes the Prince looks briefly like a cornered animal. Then Roman starts shaking his head. He waves a hand.

“We don’t need to talk about yesterday, Virgil,” he says, dismissively. “It’s not going to happen again.”

Virgil stands up slowly, his gaze narrowing at the Prince. “How do you know that? What happened?”

“It doesn’t matter what happened.”

“For crying out loud—”

“Let it alone, Virgil!” Roman snaps, something both angry and desperate his voice. “It doesn’t matter, okay? Leave it alone. Thomas is fine.”

Virgil freezes at those words. Thomas is fine. “You’ve been talking to Deceit. Haven’t you?”

Roman clenches his jaw for a moment. “So what if I have?” he asks in a much softer voice than he’d been using a moment ago.

Virgil opens his mouth to reply, but no words find their way up his throat. There’s something small and pleading in Roman’s eyes. Something haunted. Virgil doesn’t know what he can say to him. And before he can formulate a response, Roman averts his gaze and sinks out of the Mindscape.

Virgil grits his teeth and pulls on the strings of his hoodie, tightening it around his face until he can’t see for a moment. He half-sits, half-collapses back on the couch with a heaving sigh.

He can’t be mad at Roman. Not really. A small part of Virgil wants to argue that Roman should know better than to listen to Deceit by now, but a larger part of him knows that he really can’t blame the Creative Side. Deceit had told him that Thomas was fine. Of course Roman would want to believe that. And if Virgil is being honest with himself—actually honest with himself—he knows that he also wants to believe it.

Thomas is fine.

But he isn’t. And if nobody else would acknowledge it, Virgil would.

…

“Thomas.”

Virgil had waited until Roman returned to the Mindscape before deciding to confront the host himself. He figured it would probably be best to talk to Thomas alone. Or, if nothing else, at least without any of the other Sides manifested. It hadn’t taken very long. Roman and Thomas were both still exhausted, only spending about an hour brainstorming ideas for new videos before Thomas called it a day.

Virgil had thought briefly about how that was only postponing work until later, when they would have even more to do and less time to do it. He decided not to voice the thoughts, though. He had more pressing matters to deal with.

Thomas looks up from the computer in his lap from his position on the couch. “Virgil?”

“We need to talk.”

Perhaps it’s the lighting, or the lingering tiredness, but Virgil thinks he sees the host pale slightly. “Um, yeah. Okay.” He sets the computer on the coffee table in front of him, rubbing the back of his neck. “What’s up?”

Virgil arcs an eyebrow. Was Thomas really going to pretend he didn’t know why Virgil was here? “Yesterday.”

Thomas glances away, studiously avoiding meeting Virgil’s gaze again as he stands up from the couch and crosses into the kitchen. “What about yesterday?” he asks in an unusually even voice.

Virgil watches his retreating form. “I think you know what.”

He sees the way Thomas’s shoulders tense beneath his blue polka dot shirt. “Look, Virgil, I appreciate the concern. But it’s fine. I’m fine.” Thomas pulls open the freezer.

Virgil stays by the bottom of the stairs, watching carefully as the host pulls out a bag of pizza rolls. Thomas doesn’t look at him, turning the knob on the oven to start preheating it. Thomas repeating the words that had been parroted to him all day felt like a nail in the coffin of his worst fear. Of course, it makes sense, doesn’t it?

Deceit says what Thomas wants to believe. Virgil had to snap him out of it. Even if that meant falling back on old habits for a moment.

Virgil crosses towards the kitchen. “You were in my room.”

“Virgil—”

“You were trapped in my room.”

“I—”

“You couldn’t get out and I couldn’t get in. You were stuck, with Logan and Roman and Patton.”

“And Remus,” Thomas mutters.

Virgil stops. “What?”

Thomas shakes his head. “Never mind. It doesn’t even matter.”

“Bullshit, it doesn’t matter. Of course it matters—”

“It’s over.”

“What is over? I don’t even really know what happened! I just know It was bad, Thomas. It was bad—”

“Enough!” Thomas snaps, dropping the bag of frozen snacks on the counter and whirling around to face Virgil. Virgil freezes. It had been a… long time since Thomas had yelled at him. The host sucks in a breath that trembles slightly and runs a hand down his face. As quickly as it came, the outburst dissipates. Thomas sags a little against the counter, pinching the bride of his nose. “Please, Virgil. Just… leave it alone. I don’t want to think about it.”

Deceit’s words hiss in the back of his mind. If you keep making something out of nothing, where is that going to lead Thomas? I’ll tell you where. Pain. That none of us asked for.

Virgil swallows. Shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie again. “Whatever,” he says, quieter. “Wear oven mitts when you put those in.”

He sinks out before Thomas can so much as glance up.

…

Virgil finds Remus half an hour later when the Anxious Side emerges from his room.

He didn’t like being in his room anymore. It didn’t have the same effect on him that it did on the other Sides—and Thomas, for that matter—but the longer he stayed in that space, the more clarity was brought to the images from yesterday of them shaken and afraid and quiet. They’d been standing here. In his room.

Why hadn’t Virgil been able to open the door?

He steps out of the room, unable to take it anymore, when he sees the Intrusive Side practically skipping down the hallway. Virgil flushes, his hands clenching at his sides. He remembers suddenly what he had thought was the sound of Remus’s laughter from the other side of the door.

Virgil grabs the back of Remus’s shirt and yanks him to a stop, shoving him up against the wall.

“Ooo, Virgil,” Remus says, sounding positively delighted. “I do love it when you play rough.”

“What did you do?” Virgil growls.

Remus waggles his eyebrows. “Probably something kinky, but I think I need more context.”

Virgil had forgotten for a brief moment just how easy it was for Remus to make him feel nauseous. “Yesterday. You were in my room with them. You kept the door shut.”

“That’s what’s got your underwear in a twist?” Remus grins. “I think it was boat loads of fun. If Thomas is a boat. Specifically the Titanic, right before it went under. Your room is fun, Virgil, why have you never invited me over?”

“What did you do to them? What did you do to Thomas?”

Remus winks at him suggestively. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I’m not playing games, here, Remus. You put them all in danger.” Virgil had thought he was just a nuisance. A minor inconvenience, Virgil had decided to label him after Logan had explained that his existence didn’t make Thomas a bad person. Maybe Virgil had misjudged Remus, though. After all, a common cold can become something much more serious, can’t it?

“I put them in danger?” Remus raises his eyebrows, his mustache twitching. “Oh, no, no, no. I think that’s your wheelhouse, Hadesfrown.”

Virgil furrows his brow, letting go of the other Side roughly. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I only arrived at the party after Thomas was already in your room. Which begs the question, where were you?” Remus taps Virgil’s nose with his finger. Virgil scrambles back a step, batting Remus’s hand away from his face. Remus continues, unperturbed. “You missed quite the show, though.”

“I…”

“Thomas even asked about you. They all did. And you were nowhere to be found.” Remus pouts like a child. “Left them alone to fend for themselves.”

Virgil shakes his head, tripping as he backs up a step further. “No. That wasn’t what happened.”

“Patton was the first one that started crying.”

“Stop.”

Remus tilts his head. “I thought you wanted to find out what happened.”

“I-I do.” Virgil hates that he trips over the words as they leave his lips.

Remus looks unconvinced. He adjusts the fabric of his ridiculous, sparkling sleeves from where Virgil had been gripping him. “Do you? Or are you just looking to put the blame somewhere else?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh come on.” Remus flicks a hand. “Honestly, Virgil. Make up your mind. Do you want to know what happened in your room without you? Because I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you all the juicy, delicious details. But I think your real problem is that you couldn’t help them.”

Virgil averts his gaze from Remus, staring instead on the carpeted floor on the Mindscape hallway that resembled Thomas’s apartment hallway.

“I mean, that’s kind of your whole job description. You’re supposed to keep Thomas from danger, aren’t you?”

“I—”

“You said it yourself.” Remus takes a step closer. Virgil steps back to maintain the distance. “Thomas was thrown into the lion’s den. Your room, Virgil. Where were you when Thomas needed you? Because I was there. And I can assure you: they don’t do as well as I do when locked in your room.”

“Shut up!” Virgil snaps, looking up, but Remus is already gone.

….

Hours later, Virgil thinks he hears a knock at the door to his room before reminding himself he must have imagined it. The last thing he expects is anyone to come knocking on the door to his room. Nobody seemed to want to talk about it, so naturally they’d want to avoid being there too, right?

Virgil tugs the headphones off his head just in case and lets them hang around his neck loosely. Evanescence floats out from the speakers. He’d been trying, without much luck, to drown out the thoughts tugging at his mind ever since his confrontation with Remus.

Remus had a point, of course.

Virgil hadn’t been where Thomas had needed him, when Thomas had needed him. The fundamental part of his job—protect them—had been neglected. Virgil had failed, and he’d failed spectacularly. He couldn’t even do his basic job, and everybody he cared about got hurt in the aftermath of his shortcoming.

Maybe Remus had a point; maybe Virgil needs to stop looking for other people to blame. Maybe it’s his fault for not being there in the first place. Virgil’s name was derived from the word vigilant. And he hadn’t been. Not enough, anyway.

It was his own room. Virgil hadn’t been able to get into his own room to help them get out. How pathetic is that?

Another knock, tentative but nevertheless present, interrupts his thoughts. “Kiddo?”

Patton?

Virgil pauses his music from his phone and shuffles to the door, swinging it open. Patton stands on the other side with his cat hoodie pulled over his blue polo, the gray hood pulled up over his flop of brown hair. The father figure figment offers Virgil a small, uncertain smile. His gaze flickers briefly past Virgil’s head into the room, then back at the Anxious Side.

Virgil steps out into the hall and closes the door behind him with a quiet click. “Hey,” he says. “What’s up?”

Patton shrugs, but there’s something small and uncertain about the movement. “I just wanted to check in on ya.”

Virgil looks at him a little closer. It’s the first time Virgil has seen the Moral Side since he’d kissed Virgil’s head and went to his own room the previous night. Patton looks a little better rested than Roman had earlier today, but he still looks wrong. Like he’s trying to make himself smaller than he is. His hands are tucked into the pocket of his hoodie, his arms tight to his side as if trying to hug himself.

He looks like he’s still a little bit afraid. Virgil knows the feeling well. He hates how it looks on Patton.

“Do you want some hot chocolate?” Virgil asks suddenly, already walking towards the Mindscape kitchen. “I could use something warm to drink.”

“That… sounds really nice.”

They make their way in silence. Virgil feels like he should ask something, or say something to break the quiet between them, but he doesn’t know what to say. As he passes Logan’s room, he sees that the light is on. He thinks about knocking. He doesn’t.

When they reach the kitchen, Virgil rummages through the cabinets for a pair of mugs and some marshmallows. He’s admittedly a little relieved when Patton breaks the silence behind him.

“It’s been pretty quiet around here today.”

Virgil finds a mug with the words “espresso patronum” for Patton and a Nightmare Before Christmas mug for himself. “Yeah,” he replies. “It has.”

“Are you okay?”

Virgil glances quickly over his shoulder at the Moral Side before grabbing the marshmallows off the shelf and closing the cabinet. He isn’t sure how to answer. “Are you?”

Patton is pouring milk into a pot on the stove. He doesn’t answer right away. “I don’t know.”

Virgil thinks it’s the first honest answer he’s been given today. He feels an odd twinge of pride. Patton had promised he’d try to be more honest about his feelings, and he’d stuck true to that.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Virgil offers.

Patton stirs the milk with a wooden spoon and doesn’t look at Virgil. “Have you seen Logan and Roman today?”

Virgil leans against the kitchen counter and rubs the back of his neck. “Briefly,” he says. “Deceit kind of… intervened in my conversation with Logan. And Roman was, um.” Virgil tries to think of a kind way to word what had happened between him and Roman earlier today.

Patton nods. “Yesterday was…. A lot. For both of them.”

Virgil swallows. “For you, too.”

Patton finally glances over at him. The corner of his mouth twitches in a faint, sad smile. “Yeah. For all of us, I think. I think Logan is still angry. And I think Roman is hurt.”

The Anxious Side crosses his arms over his chest and tries not to wince. Because of me, he adds to the end of Patton’s comments. He knows Patton wouldn’t dream of saying it. He’d always been too kind for that sort of thing.

“And what about you?” Virgil asks softly, meeting Patton’s gaze for a fleeting moment before Patton looks back at the pot of milk.

“Oh, your old Dad is just… worried,” Patton says with some hesitation. “Afraid.”

Virgil watches as Patton sighs, taps the wooden spoon on the edge of the pot, and sets it aside. Virgil jumps up and sits on the edge of the counter as Patton leans on the one beside the stove. The light above the stove and the lamp that was left on in the commons space is the only source of light in the small kitchen. Patton’s hood casts shadows across his face. It makes him look younger somehow.

“Afraid of what, Patton?”

“Afraid of it happening again.” Patton looks at Virgil again, and holds his gaze this time. “It was… scary, Virge.” The same haunted look that had been in Patton’s eyes when Virgil first saw him last night flickers through his eyes again.

Virgil shifts uncomfortably. “You think there’s a chance of that?”

He sees Patton swallow. “I don’t want to think that. But… yeah. I do.”

“Thomas wants to think that he’s fine,” Virgil says in a low, quiet voice.

“He isn’t,” Patton replies immediately. It solidifies something in Virgil’s chest. “Logan can’t let go of his anger over what happened. Roman can barely keep it together and won’t stop berating himself when he thinks nobody is around to hear him. I’m…” Patton’s voice wavers. “I don’t think I’m okay either, Virgil. I just… want to be.”

And it was his fault. Because he hadn’t been there. He hadn’t been able to fulfill his role, his sworn duty. But maybe he could now.

Thomas had said that it was important for him to recognize the concern, register it, and carry on, changing his actions if necessary. But part of that was on Virgil. To make sure Thomas was doing those things. And right now, he wasn’t. Thomas wasn’t recognizing or registering the concern. The obvious signs that he was not okay.

Thomas isn’t fine.

“Virgil?” Patton asks. “What is it?”

“I have to talk to Thomas. And… I think I need everybody else, too.”

…

Thomas is in his bedroom when Virgil rises up behind him, just inside the doorway. The host kicks a dirty sweatshirt in the general direction of the laundry basket and sighs, raking a hand back through his hair. He’s changed into pajamas. Music plays quietly from his phone, discarded on the bed amidst the haphazard arrangement of blankets.

Virgil clears his throat. Thomas jumps a little, spinning around to face his Anxious Side.

“Geez, Virgil.” Thomas presses a hand to his chest. “You scared me.”

“Can we talk?”

Thomas sighs a little, but Virgil doesn’t miss the tensing in his shoulders. “Is this still about yesterday?”

Virgil purses his lips at the exasperated look in Thomas’s eyes. “Yeah. It is.”

“I already told you I don’t want to talk about it.” Thomas adjusts in his hair again and leans over to pick up a pair of socks. He tosses them into the basket as well.

“I know,” Virgil says, watching him busy himself by needlessly adjusting the blankets on the bed. “I know you don’t want to talk about it. But I think you need to.”

“Can’t we just… agree to disagree?”

The Anxious Side scoffs. “When have I ever been okay with just ‘agreeing to disagree’?”

Thomas is silent, snatching his phone as it tumbles unceremoniously to the floor from a blanket he’d been shaking out. He looks… tired. Virgil knows that it really shouldn’t come as a surprise—everyone had seemed tired in the Mindscape today, so it certainly stood to reason that Thomas would appear tired as well. But it reminds Virgil suddenly of Thomas’s red eyes and wet cheeks moments before collapsing against the Anxious Side yesterday.

Virgil never wants to experience that again.

He sighs. “You’re really going to make me call in the cavalry?”

“Virgil—”

The Anxious Side waves a hand. In short succession, Patton, Roman, and Logan all rise up at various locations throughout the room. Thomas’s surprised and faintly alarmed gaze flickers between the four of them. Virgil can’t tell if Thomas realizes how rough the rest of them look. He doesn’t know if maybe just seeing them would be enough of a wake-up call to get the host to stop lying to himself.

The thought makes Virgil’s own gaze take in each Side closely. Looking for any…. Inconsistencies. Looking for Deceit.

“What is this?” Thomas’s brow furrows as he asks the question.

“I know you’re mad at me,” Virgil continues, looking back at the host. Thomas meets his gaze, something that looks almost like confusion flickering through his eyes. He opens his mouth to reply but Virgil holds up a hand and interrupts him. “Look, I get it. I wasn’t there when you needed me yesterday. But… Thomas, you have to face facts. And if you don’t want to listen to me, maybe you’ll talk to them.”

“Thomas,” Logan says suddenly, as if afraid to lose the chance, “you must stop trying to outrun what happened yesterday. It will eventually catch up to you.”

Thomas shakes his head quickly. “I’m not outrunning anything. Yesterday was just. A freak thing. I’m fine.” Virgil doesn’t miss the resurgence of frustration that flares in Logan’s eyes.

“Are you sure about that, kiddo?” Patton asks softly. The lamp from the nightstand illuminates his face more than the light from the Mindscape, and Virgil can finally see he also still has the lingering shadow around his eyes like Roman had earlier. “I mean. Look around ya.”

Thomas does. His gaze floats around the room, and Virgil silently implores that he really sees them. That he sees the way Patton is trying so hard to be small, the way Logan clenches his jaw against words he’s afraid won’t be heard, the way Roman ducks away from the careful eyes of the host as if he’s ashamed.

From the slight caving to Thomas’s shoulders, Virgil thinks maybe he has. “Guys….” Thomas says, his voice wavering. “I—”

“You’re all just worrying too much,” Roman interrupts in a rush, sweeping a hand out. “Thomas, you’re fine. We’re all fine.”

Virgil shoots Roman a sharp look. He can see Thomas nodding uncertainly. “Right,” Thomas says slowly. “Yeah, I’m… I’m fine. I mean, a little tired, but still.”

Virgil hears Logan huff a breath beside him. “Thomas. You must stop this ridiculous charade. Yesterday—” Logan’s hand suddenly clamps across his own mouth, muffling his words.

Tension ripples down Virgil’s muscles, coiling them tightly. Deceit. He can see the flash of anger spark in Logan’s eyes again.

“Logan’s right—” Patton’s hand flies to cover his own mouth, too. Confusion, followed immediately by alarm, alights in the Moral Side’s eyes too.

Virgil feels his throat tighten. Thomas squeezes his own eyes shut.

“Thomas,” Virgil says urgently, because through Thomas is the only way he can fight Deceit when the Lying Side won’t show himself. “Thomas, you have to stop lying to yourself. You are not okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“No,” Virgil demands, distortion leaking into his voice. “You aren’t. Look around you, Thomas. Does this seem ‘fine’ to you?” Virgil steps closer, gesturing to Logan and Patton both.

“Yesterday was just a one-time, freak thing,” Thomas insists. “It’s not going to happen again.”

Virgil looks desperately around the room. Roman is staring at Patton, his gaze somehow both distant and horrified. Virgil can feel both Patton and Logan looking at him imploringly. But he doesn’t know what else he can do.

The room feels like it’s spinning. He’s fighting a losing battle. Thomas is drowning. Deceit has his claws sunk deep into him, and Virgil doesn’t know how to break him out of it.

Maybe it’s too late.

“I…” Virgil sags a little. He doesn’t know what else he can say to Thomas to snap him out of it. He doesn’t know how to help him. The painful, terrifying helplessness he’d felt yesterday slams back into him with a force that makes the air choke in his lungs. His heart hammers in his chest with the weight of his failure, his constant shortcoming.

He says the same words he said then.

“I’m sorry.”

He couldn’t protect them from what happened yesterday, and apparently he can’t protect Thomas now. He’d failed. Again. And everyone was going to get hurt. Again. Again and again and again.

“Sorry?” Thomas asks, his eyes fluttering open and looking at Virgil in confusion. “What are you sorry for?”

“For everything.” Virgil waves a hand. “Because I wasn’t... Because I couldn’t get through the fucking door.”

Thomas blinks. “You… you were trying to get us out?”

Virgil stares at the host standing in front of him. Could Thomas really have not heard him through the door? “I mean… yeah. Of course.” Virgil blinks as the distortion fades, but continues speaking. “I’ve always aimed to protect you. I just… failed yesterday. And apparently I’m failing you again.”

“Failing me?”

Logan releases a sharp, relieved breath as his hand falls away from his mouth. “Virgil, what happened yesterday was not your fault.”

Virgil shakes his head, waving a dismissive hand in Logan’s direction. “I should have been able to at least get you out. I... I don’t know why I couldn’t get that door open. And once it did open…” Virgil shivers. His arms feel heavy with the reminder of Thomas’s weight against them. The way he’d just… collapsed….

Virgil thinks he might be sick.

“If anything,” Logan replies, his voice a bit softer, “I am the one to be principally to blame. I was the reason he was online in the first place. And when he saw…. What he did…” He casts a furtive glance at the host, who averts his gaze. “Well. Everything happened very quickly.”

“I should have been able to get us out,” Roman says quietly. His voice is heavy and resigned with more weight than Virgil knows he ought to shoulder. “I should have found some kind of solution to the problem at hand. Maybe even be fast and strong enough to fight off….” He trails off. Shakes his head. “Instead… how I acted in there was… unbecoming of a prince.”

“We were scared,” Patton adds in a gentle voice, his own hand falling away from his mouth. “I think a lot of us still are. I think… you are, Thomas. I think that’s why you want to believe Deceit so badly. But it’s not the truth.”

Thomas winces. The host looks like the ground has shifted beneath his feet. His arms wrap around his chest in a loose hold. As if he thinks that he can physically hold himself together, and maybe keep the rest of them from falling apart too. Thomas stares at the ground just short of Virgil’s feet, opens his mouth, and then shakes his head and lifts a shoulder helplessly. Instead, he sucks in a trembling breath.

“You’re not okay,” Virgil says again, in a much softer voice than he had before. He swallows thickly. “And I’m… I’m sorry, Thomas. Because maybe you would be if I could have just… gotten through that door. Got you out of my room.”

“You were trying,” Thomas says suddenly. His eyes—glistening a little in the light of the lamp on the nightstand—glance up and lock squarely onto Virgil. “That’s what you just told us, wasn’t it? You were trying to get to us. You were trying to help us.”

“I was… scared.”

“Yeah,” Thomas says, rubbing absently at his arms. He glances down at his sock clad feet, then back up at his Anxious Side. “It was…. Scary. Intense. And… Patton’s right. I think maybe I am scared that it’s going to happen again and I won’t know how to get out, and you won’t be in there to help us. Just like last time.”

Virgil hears Logan take a deep, slow breath. When he adjusts his glasses, Virgil realizes that Logan looks calm for the first time since before the incident happened. “Perhaps it is time to see what resources are available to us.”

Patton nods, a note of hope to his still unusually subdued voice. “Just because we’re not okay right now…”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t get there,” Roman finishes, with a single nod. He stands a little bit taller now.

Thomas takes a deep breath. He holds it for a few moments. Then releases. Virgil feels something warm squeeze his chest as he realizes Thomas is trying the 4-7-8 breathing exercise Virgil had taught him the very first time Thomas had shown up in his room.

Thomas and Virgil exchange a faint smile and reply at the same time.

“Okay.”

...

General Tags: @helloisthisusernametaken, @ren-allen, @quoth-the-sparrow, @princelogical, @random-pianist, @ravenclawicecream, @erlenmeyertrash, @milomeepit, @at-least-seven-pretty-potatoes, @rileyfirstname, @pinkeasteregg, @sassy-in-glasses, @vigilantvirgil, @generalfandomfabulousness, @lacrimosathedark, @thepoolofthedead, @monikastec, @heir-of-the-founders, @yourworstnightmare999, @artistictaurean, @kanejandkruge, @cdragontogacotar, @damienswifeolicitydallysgirl, @angst-patton, @savingshae, @noneed4thistbh, @awesomelissawho, @unikornavenger, @bopthesnoz, @spiralofsilencetheory, @finger-gunsss, @crownswriter123, @swlotakulady34, @gaylotusthatexists, @analogical-mess, @dolphidragon, @flix-net, @narniasfinestavengingsociopath, @friedlieb-ferdinand-runge, @bibbidy-bobbity-booyah, @procrastinations-my-middle-name, @theburntesttoast, @monroig, @remussvscohangout

Part 2 Tags: @ironwoman359, @anianthe, @andotherstuff9, @korsaromantic66, @sandersfander1820, @theinvisiblespoon, @engineering-a-better-world, @dragonindigo245

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #platonic lamp #platonic lampt #virgil sanders #sympathetic patton #ts deceit #remus sanders #tw cursing #tw arguing #denial #self-deception #please heed warnings on this fic #it's a lot #also please let me know if some of those warnings need to be in the tags down here #be safe #skdfjdslfjdksljfdksljf #i will never not be afraid to post #here goes

352 notes · View notes

kitsunebaba · 4 years

Text

Just a Little Change

Rei stared down at the body at his feet, the butt end of his dagger still raised from the strike. Ryu stared at him in shock, gaze slowly drifting down to focus on Teepo's unconscious form. He wasn't entirely sure how he'd managed it but his brothers had been so focused on one another and Rei had seen the opening and before he could really think it through, he was moving.

And now Teepo was out cold on the grass.

"Oh good thinking Rei!" Nina exclaimed, the first one to move. She went straight for the pack on Ryu's back muttering "rope, rope," to herself.

Everyone else seemed to jump out of their stupors, with Nina breaking the silence: Momo riffling through Teepo's pockets, Garr interjecting the best way to restrain one of the brood. Rei couldn't quite follow the conversation, his ears still ringing from this whole mess of a situation. For years he'd been consumed by nothing but revenge and now to find that not just one, but both of his brothers were...

Teepo was alive... Teepo was alive!

A grin was slowly stretching its way across his face and when he looked down at where Ryu was fixing Nina's knots, he saw a smaller but just as bright smile on his face, too.

Rei wasn't quite stupid enough to think this was going to be easy. Whoever this God was, they'd really done a number on Teepo's outlook. All that nonsense about the brood, his self righteous attitude. Teepo had never been particularly kind, but this just wasn't who he was meant to be.

Well, whatever he'd thought of this pilgrimage before, it was personal now. No one did something like this to his family and got away with it. No one.

With Teepo wrapped head to toe in rope, Rei hefted his little brother over his shoulder and on they went. On to meet God.

---

Teepo didn't wake up until after God was dead and they'd escaped to the desert.

Garr had finally found his peace and they'd lost track of Peco in all the chaos of their escape. Their victory was bittersweet at best but that was just how vengeance tasted, he'd learned. Rei wouldn't kid himself into thinking his own participation was anything but. Ryu was the selfless one in the family.

There was a gasp to Rei's side, a groan and instantly he was kneeling to turn Teepo over. His brother squinted against the harsh desert sunlight and Rei shifted to shadow his face.

"That was a dirty trick," Teepo murmured, voice deeper than before but cadence much closer to what Rei remembered. Then Teepo tried to move his arms and froze. Eyes narrowed and flicked intensely to his with so much venom it made Rei's heart jolt.

"You dare-?" Teepo hissed and his teeth were already extending, his skin turning purple, scaly, face elongating.

Before Rei could so much as move, Ryu was there, sitting down hard on Teepo's chest. It knocked the wind out of him, the shock enough to stop the transformation. They glared at one another, two obscenely powerful beings vying for dominance.

Teepo looked away first.

Huffing, Teepo glared at the sand instead. "So you bested me and removed me from my sanctuary. Does the safety of the world mean nothing to you? Our God Myria has-"

"We chose freedom," Ryu murmured, interrupting.

Those words confused Teepo more than anything and he cast his gaze around to the others, as if they had the answers, as if he'd forgotten how to read Ryu and everything he didn't say.

"He's saying we killed your God," Rei couldn't help but clarify. It was petty and not worth the devastated way Teepo's face fell. His brother's breath caught and, alarmingly, his eyes began to well with tears.

"Myria is...?" his words were barely sound.

"Yes, I'm sorry," Nina replied when no one else did.

Rei couldn't watch the clear grief on Teepo's face but nor could he hide from the sounds, all the more heartbreaking for their restraint. Small sniffles and whispered denial. Each one struck home in Rei's chest until he felt ill. He couldn't regret what he'd done but there was always a price and once again it was Teepo who had to pay it. Yet another way Rei had failed.

There was no giving up this time, though. Rei had people to fight for again and he wasn't letting them go without one.

---

They almost lost him on their way to the oasis.

Teepo had refused to eat or drink. Occasionally they could get some water down his throat, with Ryu coaxing or Momo forcing but that hadn't stopped his lips from cracking or his cheeks hollowing out. They couldn't afford to untie him, either. When Teepo wasn't catatonic with grief, he ranted.

Rei was ashamed to say he left Teepo to Ryu when he got like that. There was something stalwart to Ryu that Rei could never even hope to emulate, so he didn't even try. To Teepo's threats, his fanatical recitation of God's rhetoric, Ryu kept a straight face, silently stoic as he held his brother down and waited it out.

By the time they reached the oasis, Teepo hadn't woken in at least a day and his breathing had begun to get laboured. They couldn't just leave him with the head man's wife like they had with Nina, either. That first night, they'd all been exhausted. Ryu had taken first watch regardless, making sure no one was hurt in Teepo's lucid moments as he was tended to.

Eventually, though, even Ryu couldn't keep his eyes open.

A shout woke them all, then a scream and they all clambered to their feet in alarm. Rei could feel his rabid side start to stir, eager for a fight, but pushed it down. The head woman had scrambled backwards, Ryu trying to hold back a struggling Teepo, free from his bonds.

Unable to think of anything else, Rei punched Teepo in the face and his brother slumped in Ryu's arms, his form shrinking, changing until he was a tiny, purple dragon. The look of disappointment that Ryu gave him for that made him want to shrivel to the size of a mouse and hide for the rest of eternity.

They got Teepo back into bed, tied to the posts, and Ryu went to sit back down at his side.

Rei didn't let him. He finally had to admit to himself that he'd been avoiding this new, heartbreakingly unfamiliar Teepo. Rei had promised himself there was no giving up, yet he'd almost done so to spare himself more hurt. So Rei swept Ryu into his arms and lay him down gently along Teepo's winged side, then took up the chair himself.

It was one of the longest nights of his life, watching his brothers sleep on that bed, one struggling, again, to hold onto life. When morning came, his eyes itched with tiredness and his muscles screamed from sitting for too long, but Teepo was once again in human form and Ryu smiled at him and that made it all worth it.

---

Teepo started eating again, a few days later. It had taken many, many hours of nagging and begging and pleading (and a few guilt wrenching tears from Ryu) but they'd managed to convince him to continue to live, at the very least. While his brother's ranting had stopped, along with his attempts to escape, he hadn't started speaking normally again, either, or at all.

Instead, Ryu talked. It was more than Rei thought he'd ever heard him say in his entire life, let alone at one time. He spoke of their journey, their lives, why he'd come to the decision he had. Ryu talked himself hoarse and then some until Rei took up the slack. There was only so much he knew, so much he'd been there for, but he could reminisce on their time together, at least.

Rei spoke of their lives before Ryu, reminders of the people they'd been, the ways they'd changed after they'd adopted their third family member. That one, near perfect winter and early spring where they'd been accepted, well fed, happy. That one season of bliss before everything had fallen apart.

And then Rei confessed how he'd gone off the rails in his quest for revenge. How devastated he'd been to lose his brothers to one mistake.

Teepo listened, at least, even if he never said anything in reply. He listened and Rei hoped he was taking it all in, considering their perspectives instead of clinging to a dead god's dogma.

---

Once they were all well enough to walk, about a week later, they resupplied and made their way north. They didn't need the ropes by this point. Teepo was silent and submissive, following along when asked.

It was Momo who tried to strike up a conversation this time, as they made their way through the debris of old technology. She asked a stream of questions about Eden and the space station, though the whole thing went over Rei's head. Teepo watched her, wary, but he must have understood because once she was done with her rambling hypothesis he either nodded or shook his head. One time Rei swore he heard a response but it could have been his imagination.

A few trips by Portal Drive later and they were emerging from the hut hear Mount Levett. Why they'd gone here, he wasn't sure. This whole place left a bad taste in his mouth, memories blurred from spending such long periods transformed but certain moments horrifically vivid.

"I... um, don't want to go home yet," Nina offered when he asked.

It was understandable. The prospect of possibly being confined to one place for your whole life... Rei wasn't sure he could do it. Certainly after the trick they'd played on the king and queen, she wouldn't be allowed to leave for a good long while, even if they didn't just lock her in her room.

There were other reasons she didn't want to go home. Nina still had to work out what she would fight for now. At least Rei didn't have that problem anymore.

Down the path towards the Yraall Region, they reached the road in good time. Across the bridge and they quickly came to the edge of the farmland that marked the area. A sense of unease passed over Rei the closer they got to the place they used to call home. The girls sensed it, too and the whole party remained subdued as they trekked. It was by far the easiest terrain they'd navigated in months but the tension in the air ruined any relief.

It was at the junction where the Yraall Road split towards McNeil Village that it happened.

Nina screamed as Teepo shoved her back and in an explosion of power he transformed. Momo was already aiming her weapon as he spread his wings, taking to the air. Rei jumped forwards to push the bazooka towards the ground and they were both flung backwards as it went off.

Rei picked himself up with a groan, grumbling a few choice swear words. It took a few moments to get all his senses back in alignment and by the time he had, Ryu had transformed too, staring at him, waiting.

The dragon tilted his head, indicating his back and Rei didn't have to be told twice. Scrambling to his feet, he didn't even consider what he was about to do until he felt muscles lurch below him and the ground began to lift away. Rei's eyes widened and he wrapped his arms in a vice lock around his brother's neck.

They shuddered and shook as they climbed altitude and Rei had to wonder how they weren't just dropping out of the sky. At last, though, they evened out. The turbulence stopped. Wind still whipped about his ears, pulling at his clothes and tail, but slowly he pried one eye open to look down at the ground below.

It was like a patchwork quilt he'd seen some of the women in town making; all greens and browns with the occasional patch of colour. He couldn't see any people, though with the roars he could hear in the distance, it wouldn't be a surprise if they'd all sought shelter.

With a jolt of surprise Rei found himself able to pick out landmarks. There was the farm near town, the village itself not too far off, McNeil manner. Already they'd travelled what would have taken hours on foot. He watched as it all passed below them, turning into the forests he'd once known like the back of his hand. A glimpse of Bunyan's hut, the mountain close by, then they were descending and Rei had to bury his face in Ryu's neck again or risk being sick.

When they landed, Ryu shrank back into his human form, collapsing to his knees, breathing rapid. Rei rested a comforting hand on his shoulder for a moment, long enough to know he was okay, then he was moving again.

Teepo stood at the base of the burned shell of their hut. The smell of ash and smoke had long since been washed away but Rei could still remember them, phantom scents in his nose. He came to a stop three steps behind his brother, staring up at what remained of their home.

"Sometimes I was half convinced this was just a dream... but then that would mean you had simply abandoned me."

"What?! I would never-!" Rei cut himself off, nails cutting into his palms with the effort.

Teepo shook his head, "no. You're petty and self severing like everyone else, but you wouldn't do something like that."

They were quite for a while, lost in their own memories.

"You know, Ryu said he looked for you after," Rei gestured vaguely at the burned building. "Me? I just assumed you were dead and went off to get revenge but... He went all the way to Wyndia. Would have gone further, I think, if he hadn't been caught up in all that Brood shyte."

Teepo frowned. "Wyndia...?" The frown deepened and he crossed his arms. "I... perhaps I reached it? I remember being hungry and stone walls. It wasn't long before Myria saved me, gave me a home, clothes, food, love."

"If you'll remember, so did I. And I didn't lock you in a damn cage and feed you self hate for ten years," Rei growled.

"Myria has good reason to think the way she does... did..." Teepo turned his face away, swallowing thickly before he continued. "How many people died for Ryu's cause? Just defeating her you lost two of your number. Can that be justified?"

Rei snorted, "oh, so when she kills thousands of people, it's for the good of everyone, but when a few people sacrifice their lives willingly, it's not justified? Well don't that just beat all. And here I thought we had numbers on our side."

"We are dangerous!" Teepo spun, one fist raised threateningly but Ryu was already situating himself between them, a hand on each of their chests to keep them apart. He still looked worn out from carrying someone on his back, using muscles he wasn't used to for so long, but the colour had returned to his cheeks and he wasn't winded any longer.

"So am I," Rei countered, sounding much calmer than he felt. "Sure I don't hold a candle to you guys but I slaughtered an entire crime syndicate in cold blood. It was easy. Should I be put under lock and key?"

Teepo scowled, "yes."

"Okay, so what of God's Guardians then? I know for a fact that Garr alone killed, what was it, Ryu?"

"Two hundred and ninety nine," Ryu replied softly.

"Two hundred and ninety nine Brood members during the war. That's way more than a measly crime syndicate, I'd say. And he only did it because he was told to, not because they killed his family or something."

"That was God's power-"

"So should God be locked up then? Why is her power okay but yours isn't? What gave her the right to dictate what we can and cannot do? Who lives and who dies? Since when is genocide something the good guys do?!" Rei snarled, breaking away from Ryu's restraining hand to pace, prowling the path.

Teepo rose to his full height, clearly trying to look regal. "She saved the world."

"Does it look destroyed to you? Has Ryu gone on some monstrous rampage and killed everyone? Blown up any mountains lately? Because let me tell you, he's had the motives. Half of this crap isn't even what he wanted, he was just dragged along because he was being hunted or someone else wanted to know the truth! He lost us, he lost friends, he lost years of his life and he's never destroyed anything that wasn't asking for it!"

"And what if I do?!" Teepo screamed. "What if I... I hate everyone. I hate what the world did to us! I hate how petty people are, how self serving, how no one will ever share just because they... No one ever deserved what Myria did for us, not even me!"

The silence in the clearing could have been cut with a knife.

"What if I'm the one who destroys the world?"

"You won't," Ryu said, clear and confident, "because we won't let you." Slowly, like he was touching a wild animal, Ryu lowered his hands to clasp one of Teepo's gently between them. "Just like you won't let me."

For a long moment it seemed like Teepo would pull away, whole body tense. Then he slumped, head bowed. "Is it that easy? I don't want to be around people. I don't want to go back to a society that would let children, orphans just- just starve. I don't want to-"

Rei let his hand fall heavily on Teepo's shoulder. "So we live in the woods, away from everyone else. Heck, that's pretty much what we did here before Ryu came along, just without all the stealing. Maybe we try grow our own food or something? We got friends and resources that we didn't have as kids, yeah?"

Teepo's gaze was unreadable as he looked from Ryu to Rei.

"Not here," he said at last, raising his free hand to rest on top of Rei's. "Not here."

---

They met Nina and Momo back in McNeil Village but didn't do more than pass through after joining back up. The frightened rumours of dragons in the sky effected both his brothers negatively and Rei had to suppress the urge to take his rage out on the villagers, too. They'd never wanted help, but they'd been children. Someone should have given it regardless.

Nina didn't try to pry like Rei had expected. One look from Ryu and she looked more relieved than anything. It was odd, seeing someone else able to read his brother so well but slowly Rei was coming to see Nina as family, too, and well maybe they needed a little sister to balance them out.

Reluctantly he had to admit that Momo felt like family, too, but that was dysfunctional at best. Not all family could be sunshine and roses, he'd learned. Well, one out of four wasn't so bad.

Conversation picked up when Rei voiced their intentions some time later. Nina was eager to offer locations and Momo building advice. She'd had to fix her own equipment often enough that she was handy with a hammer or a welding torch. After all, if they built with metal and brick, they couldn't be as easily burned out of the home again.

The process wasn't as difficult as he thought it might be. The forests surrounding Wyndia were vast, so before they parted ways with Nina and Momo they all ventured into them to find a good spot to build. Officially this would be Nina's vacation cottage, since the forests were technically royal hunting grounds. Hopefully they were deep enough that no one ever noticed they were there in the first place.

Momo threw herself into the building with as much enthusiasm as she did new machines. Confusingly enough, after the initial distrust, Teepo and Momo ended up getting along well. She was oblivious enough she didn't notice the way he talked down to her and he was knowledgeable enough in machinery that she was endlessly pumping him for details that he was now willing to give.

Nina, for her part, could only come by extremely occasionally. The king and queen hadn't locked her in her room but she was under strict guard whenever she argued an outing was legitimate. Slowly she was amassing a following of soldiers more loyal to her than her parents, however, and sometimes she could slip away.

When they were finally done, Momo and Nina had tentative permission to visit on occasion, though Rei could see Teepo only agreed with Nina doing so because Ryu always looked so sad when she left. It probably helped that she was their main source of supplies and Teepo could easily use that as an excuse if anyone ever confronted him on it. He'd always been unwilling to admit how soft he was where his brothers were concerned.

Rei mused on Nina's situation and how he'd thought he didn't ever want to be confined. Funny, how he didn't feel like he was locked away staying here, even though technically they were. Perhaps it was the self imposed nature of it... though Rei would put more zenny on his brothers having something to do with it.

They had to be careful with hunting in the area but they had a neat little vegetable garden going by now and a book on pickling to get them through the winter. Nina had even visited bearing some fruit tree saplings yesterday. Rei had left his brothers to plant them while he'd gone to find them some meat to celebrate.

Coming home, Rei heard them before he could see them.

"Ryu that's not how you dig a hole. No you have to- No use your- Oh, just give it here!"

Holding back his mirth, Rei rounded the corner of their house to see Teepo instructing Ryu on the proper technique for digging a hole, complete with demonstration and short, sharp directions.

Rei caught Ryu's eyes and his youngest brother flushed. Then Rei noticed there were quite a few holes already done, perfectly created, and couldn't quite hide his amused smirk as Ryu once again failed to dig a hole in the most dramatic way possible. Teepo promptly snatched the shovel back again and dug two more holes. They'd have too many at this rate.

Dropping the rabbits he'd caught by the house, he strode forwards to clap a hand down on top of each of their heads, grinning ear to ear. "I may not be very good at math but even I can see we have eight fruit trees and seven holes." Grabbing the spade himself, he dug the last one quickly, before anything could escalate. It was a little sloppy but deep enough that Teepo only scowled a little at it. He didn't even try to fix it when Rei handed the spade back.

Ryu moved off to start putting the saplings in the ground and Teepo only looked alarmed for a moment before he realised Ryu was doing this part right, at least.

Turning back to Rei, he said, "I see you're getting bolder with your kills."

"Their Royal Pains In The Butts aren't going to notice a few less rabbits in spring, Teepo."

"Early Spring."

Rei waved off the concern. "Whatever. I think we got enough tomatoes for a stew, at least. Momo better bring us more spices when she comes next. I got used to fancier food on the road than we ever had as kids. Who knew salt could do so much to a hunk of meat."

"You're getting careless. If we're-"

"Relax, Teepo."

Teepo scowled but they lapsed into silence, watching Ryu move from plant to plant, carefully placing them in the ground. For someone with the power to literally destroy the world if he wanted to, Ryu was the gentlest soul he'd ever met. Even plants were treated tenderly.

"Do you still think he's dangerous?" Rei asked softly.

Teepo watched Ryu as he answered with a shake of his head. "I don't think I ever did... not really. The kid that cries at the drop of a hat? With too much empathy for his own good. That's not someone who wants power."

"But...?"

Teepo sighed, "but I still don't trust myself. All I've had time to do is think and I know who I am. I don't want to leave, but I don't want to keep him here, either. If he wants to go..."

"And what if he wants to stay?" Rei murmured.

Ryu looked up from his work and waved, Rei waved back with Teepo reluctantly doing so too a few seconds later. The grin on their youngest brother's face was heartbreakingly bright.

"All he ever wanted, was be with his family, and that's us, Teepo. Ain't no way you can change that." He swung an arm around Teepo's shoulder, drawing him in close. "Maybe one day we let him go, yeah? But he's gonna come back. No matter where he goes without us, he'll always wind up back here sooner or later with a new story and some new friends. Probably a few new scars the way trouble finds him."

"Then maybe we need to go with him to protect him..."

"If we ever do, I'm sure we can go wherever you want..." Rei replied, giving him a squeeze.

"...Except Wyndia. We're wanted criminals there."

"You're what?!" Teepo squawked.

From where he was planting, Ryu looked up to watch Teepo chase Rei across the clearing and smiled.

#bof3 #breath of fire iii #fix it fic #I wrote this for you sama because you had to break my heart with that last bit of writing #just knock the boi out and take him with #problem part way solved

7 notes · View notes