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miniwheat77 · 1 year

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By Nature, She’s Naughty. (141 x Reader.)

THIS IS THE GANGBANG VERSION TO "LUST". I ADDED A TINY BIT MORE BACKSTORY BECAUSE I WANTED TO XD

You can find the original mutual masturbation story here

!CW! NSFW, smut, gang bang, rough sex, overstimulation, squirting, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected sex, 141 being great at aftercare, (lemme know if I missed any)

(Summary): 141 finds out how wild Y/N was in her youth.

I’m referring to Captain Price as John and Soap as Johnny just in case there’s any confusion.

The hot cup of coffee to your lips settles the boiling anger flowing through you. An annoyed sigh leaves your lips and you hear a laugh behind you. "Something funny John?" You spin around and send him a glare. "No, not at all sweetheart." He raises his hands in surrender. "Thought so." You roll your eyes. Everyone slowly begins to file into the meeting room. Sitting around the massive Oak table for their next assignment. "Y/N, what are you doing here?" Gaz asks. "On the next assignment with you guys." You smile. "Tread carefully boys, she's grouchy when she's woken up too early." You raise the cup of coffee. "This right here will save you all from your impending doom." You joke.

"For someone so young you think you'd be able to run on much less sleep." Soap laughs. "Yeah, I partied all of the youngness out of me. Believe it or not." You laugh. Soap tilts his head. "Partier huh? You'll have to tell us about it sometime." He winks. You roll your eyes. "Yeah right, I barely remember any of it. Cocaine is a hell of a drug." You kick your feet up on the table, only for Captain Price to immediately shove them off. "Wait, really?"

"For legal reasons I'm not answering that." You smirk. John rolls his eyes. "I've heard the stories from Laswell. She's done some pretty crazy shit." You smile at him. He had no issues selling you out. "I know Laswell did some pretty crazy stuff too so she better be careful telling you my business." You laugh. "You too Captain, she's told me about all kinds of things." You send him a wink, making him shake his head in retaliation. "Anyways." He clears his throat. "Onto this next mission." He starts.

—

The wind blew harshly against your clothes. The mask you wore helped shield your skin from the harsh sand beating against you. "This sucks." You roll your eyes. "Not too bad actually. Better sand than bullets." Gaz shrugs. "Yeah, if you're a pussy." You wink. He rolls his eyes. "Takes one to know one." He nudges you. "Pay attention." Your Captain snaps. "Yes sir." You salute him sarcastically but he can't see it. You really shouldn't be giving him this much attitude but you are. "I'm beginning to think we're lost Captain." Soap says. "Yeah, me too." He rolls his eyes. "Seems like Laswell sent us on a death run. You do something to piss her off Captain?" You joke. "Hope not. If I did, none of us are leaving here." He laughs. "So all of those people back there, what do you think they were?" Gaz asks. "Not sure, I just hope there isn't any more of them." He continues. "Don't think so. Looked more like a wannabe group of Al Qatala. Not many weapons, not very guarded buildings." You shrug. "True."

Finally, after a few hours of walking, you find yourself walking upon an old abandoned house. The inside was caved in a little bit, only two rooms were still intact, the living area and the kitchen. Sand had flooded the inside and you were each left crammed into one room. Captain Price was in the living area on the radio with Laswell, and the rest were crowding the kitchen, looking to see what they could find. When his conversation was over, he makes his way into the kitchen. "Laswell sent us in the wrong direction by accident. Thinks it was intentional because Al Qatala is leading us the wrong direction because they're doing something they're not supposed to be doing." Everyone nods. "Exfil can't get to us until morning so settle in."

Those were your Captain’s instruction, so everyone did. You took up one small corner of the living area. There was an old couch, and everyone had set up around you, almost in a circle. All you had was a sleeping bag and an emergency blanket for comfort so you laid them both out. It was still too warm so you were sitting on top of it. You tried getting comfortable but it was a little hard. Everyone had a couple emergency MRE’s and first aid kits. You tended to your wounds, patched up, and ate one of the MRE’s.

“I don’t have sweats or extra clothes in my bag so you’ll all just have to be okay with me sleeping in my boxers.” Soap calls out.

“That’s fine, no one cares.” You reply. “Use a buddy system if you have to go outside for any reason.” Your captain calls. He’s laying on his own sleeping bag a couple feet from you. Soap starts removing his clothes, tucking them near his bag and laying down. The room fills with an awkward silence and everyone shifts uncomfortably. It was clear no one would be getting much rest tonight. A deep sigh brings everyone out of their own thoughts. “Maybe we should do something. Like.. play a game.” Soap says. “What, like one of those ridiculous games we played in grade school?” You laugh. “You got any better ideas?” Soap rolls his eyes. “Not really. I’m in.” You shrug.

“Truth or dare?”

“Can’t really do many dares, Soap.” You laugh. He smiles. “Alright alright, truth or truth?” You laugh, sitting up in your sleeping bag. Everyone follows suit. “I think I seen some old bottles of vodka in the kitchen. Maybe we can do a drinking game like never have I ever.” Gaz suggests. You nod your head, standing up. “Captain could probably pick out good liquor. He’d be able to tell which is good to drink and what’s bad.” You smile. “Damn right little lady.” John pushes past you, you follow him into the dingy kitchen and he opens up a couple cupboards, finding 2 unopened bottles of liquor. Gin and Vodka. “Alright. We’ll just pass around the bottle.” You nod your head. “Before we start I’m ditching my clothes too.” You complain. They were dirty and had blood all over them. “Yeah me too.” Gaz complains. Pretty soon everyone is just sitting in their undergarments. Most of you were pretty beat up. Bandages and cuts and bruises all over.

Each of you form a circle and John picks up a bottle.

“Alright so.. if you don’t already know, never have I ever works like this. Someone asks a question, and if you’ve done it, you drink, if you haven’t, you don’t.” You explain. Everyone nods.

“Alright, I’ll go first. A warm up question.” Gaz sits up. “Never have I ever… been stuck in a dingy house in the middle of a desert.”

Each of you pass around the bottles of liquor.

“Bloody hell that is shite.” Captain Price flinches. He lowers the bottle of gin from his lips and shivers. “Steamin Jesus that is horrible.” Soap laughs, passing the bottle of vodka to you. You take it, tipping it back. Flinching as you set it down. The burn coursing through you. “Alright. Soap, your turn.” Soap laughs. “Alright uh..” he pauses, thinking to himself. “Never have I ever gotten into a fight.”

Everyone passes around the bottles again.

This goes on for a few more times and everyone is starting to feel buzzed, loosening up. “Okay, Y/N.”

“Never have I ever had a dirty dream about someone in this room.” You smile. “Ooooh. That’s a good one.” Gaz laughs. Your captain, Soap, and Ghost each take a drink.

The game goes on like this until most of the liquor is gone. Everyone had been targeting you, trying to figure out what exactly you had done as a teenager. They dug deep to figure out just how wild you'd been in your youth.

Eventually everyone settles into their own little worlds. Playing on their phones, reading. Or just relaxing. The same tension is still thick in the room, everyone can read it. “Alright. I hate this. Let’s try something else.” Your Captain says, sitting up. “What do you mean?” Gaz laughs, taking a breath. “I was thinking we find another way to relieve some tension.”

“What, a gang bang?” Gaz jokes. “Hate to break it to you cap, but I don’t think poor Y/N could handle that.” Your mouth props open and your cheeks burn. “I like your taste Garrick, but that’s not what I meant. I mean.. similar. But.. less hands on.” Ghost pulls off his mask, this wasn’t the first time you’d each seen his face. “Are you suggesting we.. touch ourselves?” Soap asks. John nods his head. Everyone steals glances at each other. "What makes you think I wouldn't be able to handle it, Kyle?" You smirk at Gaz, his eyes widening. "I just assumed. You talk a big game but don't have the will to back it up." He shrugs. You pick up the bottle of Vodka, tipping what's left in the bottle back. Swallowing it all down and setting it back down. You wipe your lips off and send him another evil smile. "Try me Garrick." You cross your arms. "You know what. I think we should. Fuck the attitude right out of her." Ghost smirks. One of the only things he's said all day. "Yeah, she has been giving everyone attitude all day." Soap glances at you. Right now is where you began to get nervous. It was four against one right now. You were for sure losing no matter what. The thought of all four of them using you to pleasure themselves makes butterflies swarm in your stomach. "Earth to Y/N." your Captain waves in your face. "Y-yeah, sorry. What?"

"You want to do it or not?" He smiles. "Uh.. yeah. Yeah I do."

"It's going to be a lot." He smiles. "I know."

"Before we start, I want to make a safe word." You nod your head at his suggestion. "Okay. How about 'Stop'?" Gaz suggests. "Sounds good. You know how a safe word works, right sugar?" He asks. You nod your head. "Alright. Let's get started." His hands wrapping around your thighs and tugging you toward him, laying on your back on the ground as he eagerly pulls your panties down your legs. Revealing your most delicate parts to everyone in the room. On show for them and fuel for whatever filthy fantasies are going through each of their heads right now. Your bra is next, Ghost unclasping it almost too quickly, incriminating himself just a little bit with the move. Your Captain decides to take it easier on you in the start. Helping stretch you out and prep you. He spits on his fingers, opening you up. A moan leaves your lips and you prop yourself up onto your elbows to watch him. You notice Kyle is now fully naked, moving to your left. He pushes your chest down so that you're laying on your back. "Relax." He smiles. Simon joins your other side, Johnny at your head. "You're gonna be a good girl for us right?" Johnny smirks. You nod your head, having no real response to that. This was happening, really happening. "Nothing smart to say?" John says. You smile, but say nothing. You think about saying something sarcastic but choose not to, considering it looked like he was going first. Your smile fades when you feel the tip of his cock prodding at your entrance, disappearing between your folds. Your eyes shut tightly, a moan leaving your lips. "Shit, stretching her a lot Cap." Kyle laughs. "Yeah, probably should've stretched her a little more huh." He laughs. "Oh fuck!" A whine leaving your lips as you clutch at Johnny and Kyle’s thighs. Kyle laughs. Hand moving up the shaft of his cock, slicking it up with his spit. Johnny's fingertips glide over your cheeks and you tilt your head back to look up at him. "Fuck.. Look so pretty looking up at me like that sweetheart." He smiles. He moves his hips forward, cock nudging at your mouth and nose. You waste no time, taking him into your mouth and swirling your tongue around the tip. "Oh fuck!" he gasps, hips jerking back.

He relaxes a second, only just now realizing how long it'd been since he had done this. You reach upward, wrapping your hands around his thighs and forcing him to stay still as you took him down further. By now, John was fucking into you. He wasn't going too fast, giving you even more time to adjust to his size. Once you're sure Johnny will stay still, you reach your hands out. You can hear the squelch of Simon and Kyle jerking off, so you stop them, taking them into your hands. "Shit, maybe I was wrong." Kyle laughs. “Maybe you can take it.” He groans. Thrusting his hips into your hand. You moan around Johnny, John sliding right into your spongy spot, he’s got a death grip on your thighs and your hips buck. “Fuck.. like when you moan around my cock like that sweetheart.” Johnny glides his hand over your throat. He takes hold of you, holding you still so that he can thrust into your mouth, trying not to be too rough. John moans out, feeling you tighten around him. “Fuck.. so fucking tight.” He moans. He relaxes himself. He’s worked up, approaching his orgasm too fast for his liking. He slows his thrusts, pinning your hips to the ground and taking slow deep thrusts into you. “She’s fucking tight-“ he groans. “So fucking good.” He tilts his head down, watching his cock disappear inside of you. “Doing so good for us Princess. So much better than I thought you would.” Kyle laughs, fingertips gliding over your chest at an attempt to soothe you. Your heart was pounding and your skin was bright red and warm. Already so worked up. He lets out a deep chuckle. A taunt. “She’s good at this too.” Johnny groans out, tilting his head back too look at the ceiling. Having to force himself to think about something other than your lips around him. “Got a lot of experience hm? Little slut.” Johnny swats your breast, earning a moan from you. You squirm when he squeezes it, fingertip gliding over your nipple. John felt himself growing closer and closer to the edge of his orgasm. Working through it. “Fuck- fuck.” He gasps. He groans. You’re wet around him, soaking the base of his cock. He admires it.

Johnny slides out of your mouth for just a second, and you gasp in a breath of air, followed by a “I’m gonna cum!” Before Johnny holds you still. “Fuck- me too.” John groans. “Me too.” Johnny’s eyes roll back. Kyle chuckles. “Gonna make them both cum sweetheart. Such a filthy fucking girl. Fucking your Captain and sucking your Sergeant off too.” Kyle leans down, attaching his lips to your nipple, lowering a hand to rub at your clit. He’s running quick circles over it, and you cry out around Johnny’s cock, nearly choking when he ruts his hips into you, pushing himself as far into your throat as you could take and cumming deep inside your throat. John pulls out of you quickly, earning a mewl from you at the loss of your orgasm. Pumping his cock quickly until he coats his hand and your stomach in a layer of his cum. When he cums, it’s sexy. He doesn’t try to hide how good he’s feeling, panting, groaning. When all of their hands are off of you, and Johnny has slid out of your mouth, you’re panting hard. Eyes are watering and your skin is beat red. “How are you doing sweetheart? Can you take it?” Your Captain smirks. Your nod your head lazily and he laughs at this. So pathetic and used already and they’d only just begun. Kyle swaps spots with John, and Simon trades with Johnny. Giving himself a minute before he fucks you. You jerk his cock lazily, same with John. They were both sensitive as they’d just climaxed. Taking this as a moment to relax. “See if I can’t make you cum hm? I know how bad you want it.” Kyle smiles. You lay back, hair damp with sweat as you look up at Simon, forcing your eyes not to widen at his massive size. A deep chuckle leaves his lips, causing chills to raise on your skin. “S’alright, no need to be nervous.” His deep voice puts you in a trance and you look up at him. “Such a pretty girl hm? If you can’t take it all, that’s alright. Just as long as you try f’me.” He smiles. You take a deep breath, adjusting the way you’re laying for a second, opening your legs up for Kyle. He bites his lip at this. Still ready for more.

He wonders if you’ll still be by the end of this.

Kyle’s tip pokes at your entrance and he’s a little more rough than your Captain, starting in fast. The sound of his hips slapping into yours echoes throughout the room, cries leaving your lips at the intensity until Simon leans forward. You swallow down the moans, opening your mouth for him. You’re ready for it, and his thick cock glides into your mouth. You release John and Johnny, forming a death grip on the sleeping bag beneath you. You suck hard at Simons cock as he fucks your throat, breasts bouncing with every hard thrust Kyle takes. “Want this pussy cumming on my cock.” Kyle growls. He’s holding both of your thighs tightly, hips hammering into yours. John rubs gentle circles on your clit, Johnny leaning forward to suck at one of your nipples, fingers gliding over the other. You’re crying out around Simon and he’s struggling to keep himself together. You’re sucking hard and the vibrations from your moans feel so good. He lowers one of his hands, fingers rolling his balls around, stimulating himself even more. Kyle’s teeth are gritted, John was right. You’re wrapped tightly around him, your body naturally milking his cock. You were made for this. Made for pleasuring them. You’re swallowing down gags, you don’t want them to notice your weakness, not even for a second. Simon grits his own teeth, clutching your hands over the sleeping bag. He’s mumbling to you. The others can’t hear it too well, but you can. Strings of moans and curses are leaving his lips. “Such a good girl.. like sucking my big cock, don’t you?” He chuckles when you moan around him. Knowing you can’t answer his questions. He’s stretching at your lips. A sting that you find yourself loving. “Mmm… doing so good. Getting me so close.” Simon releases your hands, you return them to pump at the others’ cocks. Earning groans from both of them. So sensitive, yet still ready for more. He’s more rough than he intends to be, holding you still by your hair and fucking himself into your throat. Watching you turn a deep shade of crimson, choking on his cock. “Oh fuck- just a- just a second longer sweet girl. Take my cock. Take it- Agh!” Simons hips buck, cumming down your throat just as Johnny had earlier. “Jesus LT-“ Johnny laughs. You take in a deep breath when he pulls away, the color fading from your face from having your air cut off. You’re panting, the black dots that had clouded your vision are slowly starting to disappear, the numbness in your body felt amazing, the buzzing in your head blocked everything out. The only thing you seemed to be able to feel was Kyle’s hips slamming into yours.

You’re moaning out, cries and whimpers leaving your lips each time he hammers into your cervix. You prop yourself up, eyes burning into Kyle’s as he fucks into you. He bites his lip hard, hips not stopping for even a second. You reach your hand down, rubbing at your clit, maybe a little harder than you intend. “Fuck.. think she’s about to cum.” John laughs. “She likes that, look at her.” Your hips buck up, eyes rolling back as your body lurches forward. Kyle tilts his head back, “fuck I’m gonna cum.” Kyle’s thrusts slow, and he’s taking hard thrusts into you, riding out your orgasm. When you fingers drop from your clit to clutch the sleeping bag, John replaces them. Earning a few cries from you at the overstimulation. “Oh- fuck!” Kyle gasps out. He slides out of you too, coating your stomach in his cum just like his Captain had. It was time for the next rotation. You were worn out, eyes heavy. Body numb and throbbing. Beads of sweat coated your body and your heart thumped through you. The room buzzed and felt way hotter than earlier. “Need another drink before I fuck her. Johnny is next.” Simon growls, standing up. He was last, and was by far going to be the biggest, you were nervous thinking about it.

Johnny swaps with Kyle, John moving up by your head. It was his turn to feel those pretty lips wrapped around him. “How about we try something else sweetheart?” Johnny smiles. “On your hands and knees f’me baby.” He pats your thigh. You listen, legs wobbling as you move. “Are you alright, Princess?” John asks. You nod your head. John smiles. “No more attitude out of you Hm?” He pushes your hair out of your face, a gasp leaving your lips as Johnny slides into you, grasping hold of your hips as he starts fucking you. John laughs, leaning in to press his forehead to yours. He smiles. Eyes looking into yours. “Am I a good girl Captain?” You smile. “Yeah, doing so good for us.” John’s cock is rock hard again, hearing you say that. Asking if you’re a good girl. It makes him want to bust right there. “Are you ready for more baby? Ready to taste my cock?” You nod your head eagerly. “Such a good girl for me.” He groans out as you lower yourself. He lifts himself up onto his knees, cock level with your mouth. You take him into you, body jolting with each thrust Johnny takes. Kyle squeezes at your breasts, fingertips gliding over your skin to soothe you like he had done before. He knew they were overwhelming you. But you were almost done, and you were proving him wrong. So so wrong. Johnny’s head is tilted back, hearing your moans have been muffled by his Captain’s cock. His cock was overstimulated, but he was still going. The sensitivity makes the sex feel so much better. So much more intense as your body clenches down onto him, relaxing. You can feel another knot building in your stomach, and Johnny can tell. The way you’re clenching around him sells you out. Kyle is running circles over your clit steadily, even with the shaking from Johnny’s thrusts. Simon sits on the couch, bottle of Gin in hand. He’s watching. Your body is so stimulated. Mouth full of cock, cock buried in your pussy. Nipples and clit being stimulated. Your hands are clutching at the ground beneath you. You’re fighting off another orgasm, he can tell from where he’s sitting. If Johnny doesn’t make you cum, Simon would. By the way Johnny’s thrusts are getting sloppy, he’s not going to get you to another. A smile plays at Simons lips. He was about to make you see another fucking world.

Sure, he was a little cocky about it. But he was waiting to go last for a good reason. He’d stretch you more and wanted you to be completely ready.

You swallow down every last bit of cum that your Captain has to give. His hips buck into you, and you try hard not to gag. He relaxes, your head hanging as you cry out. Johnny’s thrusts are sloppy and you know he won’t be able to make you finish, you’re too overwhelmed. Johnny releases a loud gasp, sliding out of you just in time as he pumps his cock hard, orgasm spilling out onto your backside. You collapse onto your stomach, body weak and numb. Kyle laughs. “M’tapping out sweetheart. You’re all Simons now.” Simon stands up from the couch, setting down the empty bottle of gin. He kneels down by your legs, helping you roll into your back. Chuckling at how weak you are. “You remember our safe word right honey?” He smirks. You nod your head weakly. “What is it?”

“Stop.” You croak. He smiles, “can you take more?” You nod your head weakly. “Just lay back and relax. They’re going to take care of you.” You nod your head. A sigh leaves your lips as you lay back. Simon folds one of your legs over the other until you’re on your side. He lifts one of your legs higher, spitting on his hand and rubbing it over your pulsing entrance. As fucked out as you are, you’re still desperate to cum again. Simon starts to glide into you and your mouth falls open. “Oh my god!” You suck in a harsh breath. “It’s okay sweetheart.” John rubs a hand over your hair. They’re all watching Simon stretch you. “Stretching me so much-“ a sob leaves your lips. Simon bites down on his lip, trying not to thrust right into you until you’re crying. Tears start to slide down your face, so overstimulated. But it feels so good. Better than anything you’ve ever felt before. “Ah-“ you move your leg until you’re laying on your back again, pushing down onto Simon, and he groans when he prods at your cervix, bottoming out into you. “Someone’s eager.” He chuckles. When he takes his first thrust, your head falls back into John’s lap. He chuckles, “you’ve got a safe word baby. Don’t forget.” You shake your head. Earning a smile from him. “Doing so good for Simon baby. So good.” He chuckles, running his fingers through your damp hair. He draws his hips back, thrusting into you again. A moan leaving your lips. They didn’t get to hear too much of it before. Your mouth was full. Your moans are perfect and they egg Simon on. He starts to be a little more rough, hips hammering into yours until your body is jumping with each one he takes. Simon won’t last long, but that doesn’t matter.

Because neither will you.

His thick cock brushes right up against your spongy spot, and your eyes roll back. Shutting tightly. “Ah! S-Simon- feels weird.” You whimper, “S’okay baby. Just let it happen.” John breathes, they all know what’s coming, stealing glances at each other with a smile. Your body began to shake, cries leaving your lips. You try to squirm but John holds you tight. Johnny moves forward, rubbing circles over your overstimulated nub. “A-Ah! I’m going to-“ a cry leaves your lips and Simon fucks you through it, body jerking hard as you reach your high, your arousal squirting out around Simon, fluids coating Simon as a scream leaves your lips. Simon groans, still fucking into you as he reaches his own high. “So fucking good. Fucking tight around me.” He grits his teeth. He knows he should pull out, but he doesn’t. “Agh- can’t fucking stop,” he growls. He takes a tight hold on your hips, burying his cock as deep as it’ll go and reaching his orgasm. Filling you to the hilt with his spunk.

Your body gives out completely, panting. You’re drenched in sweat and coated in bodily fluids. Most not even yours. Simon moans when he sees his cum spill back out of you. Pumping out with each pulse from your pussy. John let’s go of you, giving you a moment to relax. They all stand up, admiring their work. “I was wrong, she could take it.” Kyle laughs. Each of them standing around you like a pack of wolves, that’d just devoured their prey. Your eyes are heavy and don’t stay open for long. You fall asleep quickly, still nude and coated in fluid.

“Let’s clean her up, everyone else has clothes so she can sleep with Johnny.” They nod their heads, making a mutual agreement. You didn’t have back up clothes and neither did Johnny, which meant you could keep each other warm through the night. It was the desert. It would get freezing. With whatever wipes and clothes they didn’t need, they cleaned your skin off, using a damn cloth to wipe your face off before using it for the rest of your body, even between your legs so that you didn’t feel uncomfortable. They helped put your undergarments back on so that you wouldn’t wake up naked, and discarded your ruined emergency blanket with a mutual agreement to gift you another when they returned. “I found an extra hoodie in my bag, let’s put it on her too.” Gaz passes it to Johnny. He moves your body to slide it onto you. “M’gonna take her bra back off than. That can’t be comfortable. She complains about them every time she’s around.” Johnny laughs. “True.” He tucks your bra into your bag and unzips your sleeping bag for more warmth over the both of you.

He forces you awake for just a second for a drink of water and after, you’re fast asleep again. Johnny gets settled with you, pulling you into him so that the both of you are warm. Once everyone settles in, they turn their lights off.

The next morning, Johnny is shaking you awake. “Exfil is a mile out lass. Cmon.” You nod your head, going to stand up. Your legs buckle underneath you and Johnny laughs as he catches you. “Just sit there for a minute yeah?” He smiles. “Simon, I’ll take your bag. You get her.” He nods his head, moving closer. He passes Johnny his bag, kneeling down in front of you. You climb onto his back and he’s lifting you up. He has a hold of your thighs, your arms wrapped around his front. You were riding piggyback on him. They cover your bottom half with an emergency blanket, luckily Gaz’s hoodie was long and covered you as well. “Alright. One mile. Let’s do this.” They all nod.

You rest your head on Simons back, eyes growing heavy once again.

ask and you shall receive my babies XD

@shroomje @mothcelestial @lillianastuff

#call of duty mw2 #soap mw2 #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #captain john price #price mw2 #alejandro mw2 #captain price #johnny soap mactavish #mw2 smut

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prettymonegasque · 6 months

Text

cards and flowers

Charles Leclerc x fem!driver! reader

Summary: Love is found through many ways. Yours was through messy cards from an adorable toddler with a cute dad.

Warnings: SO.MUCH.CUTENESS. nothing else just fluff!!

Word Count: 1k

A very special fic inspired from my very first request <3

“Papa! We should give her Floppy. Floppy is a great doctor.” Theo held out his stuffed toy as Charles buckled the 3-year-old in the car seat. “Sure, mon amour. She would love it.” Charles chuckled and kissed his son’s forehead. He let out a deep breath and got into the driver’s seat.

His teammate had a nasty crash during the Saudi Arabian GP. She made it out alive but sustained some minor injuries and had to be hospitalised for monitoring. Charles always worries about everyone he loves. He cannot even fathom losing anyone, especially the girl he’s grown to love and fall harder for every second. He wouldn’t forgive himself if something happened to you and never had the balls to confess his feelings.

The sound of Theo singing along to the radio shook him out of his thoughts. Charles looked at him through the rearview mirror and smiled. He couldn’t wait for two of the most important people in his life to meet.

‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫ ꒱‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫ ꒱‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫ ꒱‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫ ꒱‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫ ꒱‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫ ꒱‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫

“Theo, when we get in we should talk very softly okay? No yelling or running. You should be very gentle. Tu comprends?” (you understand?) Theo nodded as Charles gave him a soft smile and held the toddler’s hand guiding him through the hospital halls. He couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. You might not have met Theo before but Charles spoke so much about him that it felt like you’ve raised him. He lightly knocked at the door to your suit and heard a low voice asking him to come in.

“Hey. How are you doing?” Charles gently approached you. Theo clutched his father’s calf and shied away. You let out a small laugh, “I’m fine Charles. This must be the famous little Theo Leclerc.” The toddler replied with a mumble. “Désolé bébé. I didn’t catch that.” You cooed at Theo. “‘m not little. I’m three.” Theo confidently showed two fingers and gave you a toothy grin.

“Oh my! You’re a big boy, aren’t you? I’m so sorry sir.” You dramatically apologised and got out of bed. Charles immediately stopped you. “Don’t you dare get up. You’re supposed to be resting.” “Lord Perceval, as much as I love you dotting over me, they cleared me for Australia. In fact, I’m getting discharged this evening.” You ignored the eye roll from the Monegasque and kneeled before the toddler to level with him. “Nice to meet you, Theo. I’m Y/N.” You extended your hand which the toddler promptly shook.

“Papa talked a lot about you. He said you’re prettier than Rapunzel. But I think Rapunzel is more prettier.” Theo shrugged. “Did he actually say that?” You giggled and looked up to find a blushing mess of a man. “I do agree with you, Theo. Rapunzel is so much more prettier.” “Mon chou, don’t you have something to give to Y/N.” Charles tried to switch the subject before his little spawn revealed anything more. “We got you flowers. Papa said lilies are your favourite. I also made you a card. Papa drew everything but I coloured it. I’m very good at colouring.” He shoved the flowers in your hand and proudly showed you the card.

Your heart skipped a beat every time Theo mentioned that his papa talked about you. Does he always talk about me? A silly little thought entered your brain but you were quick to brush it off and continued your conversation with Theo. Unbeknownst to you, Charles was hopelessly falling in love with you and wondered how wonderful it would be if he could witness this every day for the rest of his life.

‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫ ꒱‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫ ꒱‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫ ꒱‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫ ꒱‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫ ꒱‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫ ꒱‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫

It’s been 3 years since that day at the hospital. Three championships, one champagne-and-sweat-covered confession and a lot of dates later, you and Charles sat on the island watching Theo giggling and running from the waves. After a successful yet hectic first half of the season, you relished the quiet moments you got with your little family during the break. You turned to kiss your boyfriend to find him staring at the void, deep in thought.

“Penny for your thoughts?” You nudged him, shaking him out of his trance. He gave a puzzled look. “Whatchu thinking about baby?” “Just you and how much I love you.” He leaned down and kissed you softly. “I love you too, Charles. Toujours.” (always) He smiled and then called out for Theo. The now 6-year-old came running into his arms at full speed. You started tickling him and cherished the giggles that erupted from him. After he calmed down, he looked at his dad and nodded. You were a little suspicious but let it pass.

“Theo, mon chou, don’t you have something to give Y/N?” Charles urged him. Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Oh yes. Papa and I made you a card. I drew and coloured it all this time. Look!” He handed you a white envelope. You were still confused, it wasn’t an anniversary or birthday why are you getting a card? But when you opened the envelope and read the card your confusion was replaced by disbelief.

You gasped and looked up to find your boyfriend on one knee while Theo tried to suppress his excitement. “Y/N, ma cherie. I’ve had the immense pleasure of knowing you for the past four years. And I’ve loved every second of the last three when I got to call you mine. The day Theo was born, I told myself I would love him like no human in this world could. But then you came into our lives and showed both of us a kind of love that is so pure and raw. I don’t ever want that love to stop shielding us. So will you do both of you the greatest honour and marry me?” You were full-on sobbing, snot and all. Charles was tearing up as well. Theo looked like he was about to burst from anticipation. “Yes” That one word changed your life forever.

‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫ ꒱‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫ ꒱‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫ ꒱‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫ ꒱‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫ ꒱‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫ ꒱‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫

I am very sleep deprived so if you see any plot holes or typos, no u didnt uwu

#charles leclerc #f1 imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 fluff #f1 x reader

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night-daily · 11 months

Text

Not so happy father's day | Dad! Peter Parker x Mom! reader

summary: This is not the first time Peter let you and your son down but it's the last time you let it happen.

warnings: angst

“For the third time baby, I won't forget his backpack” Even through the phone, Peter could feel your eyebrow raising, “again” he sighed “gotta go, it's getting late, bye love you” he hung up the call before you can answer.

“Who's ready to go to school?” Peter asked your 8-year-old son, Ben. “We really have to go?” The little boy rubbed his eyes yawning.

“Of course! We have to show to the other fathers and kids who are the best, right?” your son didn't look convinced. “I can buy you an ice cream after our win” Peter extended his hand to Ben “It's a deal, sir.” Then they shook their hands.

“Or you could just do it for father's day” Peter murmured.

They left the house together and got into the car. The way to school was silent except for the sound of the radio. Even if they were father and son, they weren't so close like Ben and you. In fact, sometimes Peter asked himself if he was a shitty father. Why he couldn't just talk normally to his son? He was afraid to admit it but they were almost like strangers. He couldn't remember the last time they spent time together.

Today would be different, he told himself.

“Here we are!” Peter parked the car outside the school. “Dad, you'll come to the celebration, right?” Ben asked nervously, it was father's day after all and Peter was known to be late, or in the worst scenario, he didn't show up. “I'll be here I prom-” His phone pops up with a notification bank robbery with hostages, “Dad?” The sound of Ben's voice brings him back to the reality. Peter cleared his throat “See you later, son.” Ben smiled giving him a quick hug, taking Peter by surprise. “See you later, dad.” He got out of the car almost running as he waved to one of his teachers.

Maybe was because Ben was spider man's son or he was just used to Peter's lies but Ben felt a weird feeling, something would go wrong and he didn't like that feeling. He shrugged his shoulders trying to ignore it and crossed the school's doors disappearing from Peter's view.

“I'm sorry, Ben” Peter started the car, driving to the bank to rescue people.

🕷︎ 🕷︎ 🕷︎ 🕷︎ 🕷︎ 🕷︎

You were on your break from work, sitting in the cafeteria, eating your lunch with your friends when one of them spoke out loud.

“Miss, can you turn up the volume, please?” She did it and you almost choked on your coffee when you heard his name.

“Hey Liam, we're reporting from the robbery bank where almost fifteen people are hostages, it has been two hours since Spiderman arrived at the scene...” you stopped listening.

What the fuck he was doing there? He was supposed to be with Ben at the school. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You said goodbye to your friends, ignoring their questions and the worried looks they gave. Taking your phone out, you tried to call Peter but it went to voicemail. It was clear you were frustrated, mad, and hurt because in another moment you wouldn't said those words,

“We need to be in danger so you can spend time with us? Don't you bother to come home, Peter.”

Or maybe you did mean it, this time, for real.

You took a cab, giving the address of the school of your son, almost begging the driver to go fast because you didn't want to Ben spend this day alone, not again.

🕷︎ 🕷︎ 🕷︎ 🕷︎ 🕷︎ 🕷︎

The celebration at school was over. When you arrived, you thought you would see your son crying like the other times, but he wasn't which you didn't know was a good thing or not, because he didn't seem happy either.

After that, you two went home, and as soon as you stepped inside, he threw his backpack on the floor, ran upstairs, and slammed his bedroom door. You felt your heart breaking and the tears in the corners of your eyes, you refused to cry, you needed to be strong for Ben.

You rushed to his bedroom, knocking on the door, “Can I come in, Benji?” There's silence on the other side of the door, getting worried you open the door. The view was the worst you have ever witnessed, there, hidden under the bed and hugging himself while the tears streamed down his face, was your son. You kneel in front of him, “Wanna talk?” He lifted his eyes from the floor, “Why i-is dad never with us?” He sniffled between words.

You didn't know how to respond to him, you asked yourself the same question.

“Why he can be like the other fathers? I-I sometimes just” His voice cracked and couldn't say more. You hugged him into your arms, his face on your shoulders and you felt every single tear, how could you let something like this happen?

You let him cry over your shoulder until he fell asleep, carefully you carried him and placed him on his bed. Kissing the top of his head, you left the bedroom without making noise.

In the other part of the city, Peter buttoned his shirt trying to cover his suit, while running through the halls of the empty school. The janitors and some teachers cleaned, but he was in denial, he didn't want it believe he missed another father's day.

He spotted Ben's teacher and rushed towards her, “Am I too late?” She looked at him with pity, nodding her head and placing a hand on his shoulder, “You missed everything”

Peter ran once again, grabbing his phone to call when he noticed he had a voicemail from you. He played the voicemail, you sounded upset but it wasn't like the other times, it was... different.

Remorse was eating him up, he needed to get home as soon as possible.

🕷︎ 🕷︎ 🕷︎ 🕷︎ 🕷︎ 🕷︎

He arrived home, he felt nervous, like the time a very you pregnant and a very excited Peter bought the house, you and him holding hands, smiling at each other, and a kiss on the lips, it was a promise, for your future.

But he was now, standing in front of the door, taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door. After a few seconds, you were there, your puffy eyes showing you had been crying, and the look in your eyes, you weren't mad, you were disappointed.

“What are you doing here? I thought I made myself clear before when I told you to not come home, Peter” Your voice was hoarse, your arms crossed over your chest, like trying to protect you and Peter hated he was the reason you felt this way.

“I know but there was bank robbery—” “You made a promise, Peter! You promised this time you would be there for Ben, but you weren't, again” You pointed your finger at his chest “but the people needed me, they were in danger and I—” “WE NEED YOU TOO! The people out there, strangers, are more important than us? than your son and wife?” “That's not what I meant and you know it” He tries to walk towards you but you back away. He swallowed hard. “We can't keep this up forever, I can't keep waiting for you, and, our son shouldn't either” Peter felt he was not breathing anymore, he was starting to panic, “Please don't leave me, I swear I'll do things different this time” His lips are trembling. “I want to believe you but you've said that so many times that I've lost count” You laugh bitterly, “Tell me what can I do to change this, to save us” He's pleading, a tear rolling down his cheek. You can't stand watching the love of your life broken apart, but you are not changing your mind, something needs to be different. “Can you stop being Spiderman and be just Peter Parker? My husband, the father of my son, and yourself? Can you do that?” Your eyes are filled with hope and he looks defeated, “but Spiderman it's part of me, you... you never had a problem with it before” sighing, you stepped closer to him, “I hided how much it hurt every time you stood me up, 'cause I wanted a future with you, and I always understand it being Spiderman was important to you but when we got married and Ben born, I thought you would change, leave the hero aside, but you didn't and until today I realize I wasn't the only one being hurt, and I can't let you to keep hurting Ben” you murmured, your voice shaking as your body, Peter wants to hug you, but he knows if he did it he won't be capable of letting you go, and at least he owed you that, to say goodbye without regretting your choice, “I didn't know you felt all that, I'm sorry for hurting you and Ben, If I could go back in time and do things differently, believe me I would,” now he steps back away from you, “you deserve much better than me” he waited for you to stop him, to say something, but you didn't.

And with those last words, was the last time you heard Peter's voice.

#peter parker tasm #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker #spiderman #peter parker x fem!reader

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cherrycola27 · 11 months

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Idle Hands

Author's Note: I want to preface this by saying I know that this isn't my usual content. This mini-series is a result of my insomnia fueled rewatch of Outer Range, adhd, the high amount of Lew content we have been getting lately, and my dive back into country music. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it nonetheless

Series Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption, violence/ fighting, rodeo inaccuracies, smut. 18+ Minors DNI. Banner Credit: @thedroneranger

Masterlist Next Part

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Part 1: The Devil's Handiwork

Rhett hadn't planned to end up at the Handsome Gambler tonight, honestly.

But with Perry in jail, his parents on the outs, and Maria having left town, the Abbott house was just too—quiet.

So, he hopped in his beat-up old truck and headed into town. He had only planned to stay for one beer, really. But after he finished it, he realized that another one couldn't hurt. And boy, was he glad he talked himself into a second one.

Truthfully, Rhett was on his fourth beer now. But that was all because of you. Your band had been setting up when he first walked in and took a seat at the bar. Rhett had scoffed and rolled his eyes when he saw you.

You had on some well-worn cowboy boots, a flannel draped over you, and a pair of blue jeans that had to have been painted on because the fit you just right.

He figured you were one of those pop-country wannabes that seems to grace the bar more and more frequently.

But the minute you stepped on stage, Rhett knew he was wrong about you. You were different in the best way.

You didn't sing the songs that were all over the radio, that were upbeat, and full of life.

No. You sang songs about love and loss and betrayal. Songs that reminded him of the old country his father had raised him on.

And you were so convincing when sang them. Your words haunted him. The shake of your silver tambourine enchanted him. Drawing him in with every note. They bar must have had almost fifty people in it from here or there, but Rhett swore that you were singing right to him.

He was so bewitched watching you that he didn't realize how much time had passed. Soon, you were announcing your last song. It wasn't one he was familiar with, but he found himself tapping along to the beat as you sang

"Oh, lord, I need a little help."

You crooned into the microphone as you met his eyes.

"Oh, lord, come and save me from myself"

You sighed as you trailed your hand across you the tidbits of lace that peaked out from under your shirt and up your neck.

"And that devil's in the market for a pair of idle hands"

You finished with a wink and a crimson smirk across your face.

Rhett wiped his palms across his faded jeans as his very own hands, that had been setting idle just moments before, wrapped around the neck of his beer and brought it to his lips. He downed it in one gulp as you made your way off the stage and down to the crowd of on lookers, straight towards him.

Rhett fumbled with his wallet, trying to quickly pay his tab and leave, because in his head, he knew that you would be trouble.

He grabbed his hat from the bar and secured it on his head. He turned on his heels and collided with whoever had the misfortune to be behind him.

Rhett quickly caught himself and looked to apologize to whoever he crashed into, only to be met with you standing in front of him.

"Leaving so soon, Cowboy?" You spoke to him sweetly, voice flowing over him like honey.

"Y—yes ma'am." He stammered out.

You cocked your head to the side and clicked your tongue, not moving from your spot. You reached up and adjusted the hat that now sat askew on his head.

"Shame, I was hoping to have a drink with a thirsty cowboy, but if your whistle has already been wet, I guess I can find someone else." You sighed as you trailed your fingers down his bicep and looked up at him through your lashes.

"I—I suppose one drink couldn't hurt." Rhett stuttered. Your warm fingers on him was making it hard to think.

"Perfect." You smiled at him with a devilish grin.

Rhett swallowed thickly. He knew that this was either going to be the best or worst decision of his life. He just wasn't sure which one yet.

"So, Cowboy, you from around here or just passing through?" You ask him as the two of you settle into a booth tucked away from everyone else at your request.

"Born and raised here." Rhett answers you as he fiddles with the label on his beer before taking a sip of it. The hops of it dance across his tongue. Smoothe and familiar. It's a local brew, not something you can find at every bar and store. It surprises most people that Rhett drinks with when they see him order something niche.

"I've never seen this kind before. Is it any good?" You ask him as you gesture to his drink.

"S'one of my favorites," Rhett mumbles as you slide closer to him. Now your thigh is pressed against his. He can feel the warmth radiating off of your body.

"Wanna try it?" He offers as he tips the neck of the bottle towards you. "Sure." You grin at him.

Rhett expects you to take the bottle from his hand, but instead, you surge forward and connect your lips with his.

He lets out a surprise gasp, which allows you to slide your tongue into his mouth. Rhett relaxes into you. One of his large hands curling at the nape of your neck. But just ask quickly as you kissed him, you pulled away, leaving him breathless.

"You're right. It does taste pretty good." You breathe out as if nothing had happened. A laugh bubbles out of Rhett as he shakes his head and takes another drink.

"You're something else, darling." He chuckles. "Y'know, I just realized I never caught your name."

Now it's your turn to laugh. You smile at him sweetly before telling him your name. He repeats it back to you in his gravelly draw, and you think that it's never sounded better.

"You've got a mighty fine name, darling, but I think I'll call you Honeybee." He says.

"Oh, and why's that, Cowboy?" You challenge him.

"Because you're sweet with a little sting. And you can keep calling my Cowboy if you want, but Rhett works just fine, too." He smiles.

"Rhett." You draw out his name like the melody of one of the songs you just sang. Even though he's only heard you utter it once, Rhett can already tell he's addicted to the way his name falls from your lips.

"So where are you from? Because I know it's not from around here. I'd remember a pretty face like yours." Rhett asks you.

"You think I'm pretty?" You fire back. He cracks another smile and nods.

"I'm from Oklahoma. But I've been on the road for a while, following a dream." You tell him. "How the hell did you end up here?" He asks you. "My aunt and uncle have a ranch here. I'm spending the summer with them. Trying to reconnect with my roots." You explain.

Rhett shakes his head and realizes that your aunt and uncle's ranch is a few miles away from his family's. He hopes that means he'll get to see you more this summer.

"So what do you do for a living, Cowboy? Or do you just hang out in smokey bars all day?" You ask him. "I work on my family's ranch, and I ride bulls." He tells you with a shy grin.

"A bull rider. Guess that means you like to walk on the wild side?" You raise an eye brow as your hand comes to rest on his thigh. You trace lazy shapes over the faded denim.

"I've been known to take a few risks." Rhett says as he shifts closer to you.

"Is that so?" You ask him as you slide your hand along his thigh until it's resting atop of his obnoxiously large gold belt buckle that he won in his last rodeo.

"Yes, Ma'am." He replies calmly. You lean in closer to him. So close that he can smell the floral perfume you're wearing. Your lips are millimeters from his ear. "I may not be a thousand pound bull, but I sure could give you one hell of a ride tonight, if you're up for it, Cowboy." Your hot breath fans over him.

Rhett shutters at your words. And you smirk, proud of the effect you have on him. You go to pull your arm away, but he catches you by the wrist and places your hand over his bulging jeans. You cup his length through the fabric and press your thighs together.

"I think I might be the one giving you the ride of a lifetime." Rhett practically growls out.

"We'll see about that, Cowboy. I've been known to hold my own. I'm staying at the motel across the street for a few nights until my aunt fixes up the guest room at her house. I'm in room six. See you there." You wink at him before dropping a key onto the table and sliding out of the booth.

Rhett shamelessly watches you walk towards the exit. And when you turn back to blow him a kiss, he notices that the stetson hat that was once on his head now rests atop yours.

Taging some who might be interested: @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @wkndwlff @daggerspare-standingby @dakotakazansky @startrekfangirl2233 @hecate-steps-on-me @na-ta-sh-aa @katieshook02 @je-suis-prest-rachel @soulmates8 @diorrfairy @eli2447 @xoxabs88xox @djs8891 @roosters-girl @sebsxphia @rosiahills22 @dempy @callsign-magnolia @alchemxx @withahappyrefrain @lt-spork @bradshawsbaby @seitmai @kmc1989 @bcarolinablr @itsdesiree86 @waywardhunter95 @hisredheadedgoddess28 @whatislovevavy @inkandarsenic @tomanybandstolove @jiminie-08 @dingochef @skipchat @laracrofted @bobfloydsbabe @lewmagoo @sunlightmurdock

#cherrycola27 #outer range #rhett abbott #rhett x reader #rhett abbot x reader #rhett abbot smut #idle hands #outer range fic #outer range fanfic #Spotify

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thislovintime · 2 years

Photo

Peter Tork; photos by Nurit Wilde.

“Tork in the late 1960’s” - Nurit Wilde, Instagram, June 19, 2021

“I’m free, I don’t know what I’ll be doing. I’m actually a little apprehensive, because there’s no doubt that there are three other incredibly talented fellows out there. They’re very talented guys. Mike is one of the funniest people I’ve ever known. Micky is even funnier and Davy is just cute as a button. Who could ask for anything more? Davy dances so great, did you see him dance in the film? I’ve not seen dancing like that on the screen except from Fred Astaire. The only other thing is that I’m both really relieved and really, really apprehensive. I’m terribly glad and also terribly sad.” - Peter Tork, NME, January 25, 1969

"[Tork] says The Peter Tork Project plays music ‘sort of on the heavy end’ of album-oriented rock radio. ‘We’re not heavy metal per say, but we’re just on the pop side of that,’ adds the affable performer. The band, formed in January with Scott Avitabile on guitar, Jerry Renino on bass and Derek Lord at the drums, is one of several ensembles with which Tork has performed since leaving The Monkees. [In the early 1970s, Peter was a member of the] San Francisco-based rock band named [Osceola]. ‘That was a name full of significance,’ he said. ‘[Osceola] was chief of the Seminoles, the only tribe never to have surrendered to the federal government.’ Tork said he identifies strongly with that kind of defiance. ‘All of my early life was spent feeling out of whack. Physically I matured late and never was very athletic and always found myself on the short end of the stick. I was raised in a liberal family in the middle of the McCarthy era.’ Against those odds, Tork inevitably developed an inferiority complex that he carried into adulthood and his musical career. When he became one of four young men chosen out of 437 applicants to become what were supposed to be the ‘American Beatles,’ his self-doubt grew to mammoth proportions. ‘Half of the time I would think I didn’t deserve it and the other half I would think I was God’s gift to the children. I got my head turned around. It was the “arrogant doormat” syndrome low self-esteem combined with arrogance.’ [...] Tork recalls now that he wanted things done his way, but wasn’t willing to put his effort where his mouth was. His subsequent attempts at a career of his own were consistent failures, and for a while in the mid-’70s he joined his wife in the teaching profession, instructing a variety of classes in private high schools. That career was shortlived. [More about Peter’s time teaching here and here.] ‘Not that I didn’t enjoy teaching, but there’s no money in it. It’s a tragic comment on social priorities, but there it is.’ Tork expresses fervent enthusiasm for his new group [...]. As for his old bandmates, with whom he enjoyed superstardom for such a short time so many years ago, Tork says he stays in touch. Assessing his relationships with each one, Tork favored the diminutive, British-born Davy Jones ‘because he could see things the others couldn’t. Occasionally he was able to reach down into the depths.’ Drummer [Micky] Dolenz, who gained childhood fame as TV’s ‘Circus Boy,’ was ‘a whole lot more fun’ to be around than the other Monkees. Nesmith, considered the most creative of the four, was the most ‘respectable, in the sense that he did his work and had a sense of his own work ethic.’” - The Daily Oklahoman, November 7, 1983

"To tell you truth… I… I never was able in those days [the '60s] particularly — I’m getting better at it these days — but in those days I was almost entirely unable to fight for what I saw as quality. If I didn’t get somebody fighting on my behalf then it didn’t, just didn’t come to pass." - Peter Tork, Headquarters radio, September 1989 (read more here)

"I had pathological self value. I really didn’t have a sense of it at all. I didn’t get why. I thought I had been picked almost at random. I didn’t have any sense of myself bringing anything except that character to the Monkees. What I thought they hired me for was that character, and I think to this day that that had a lot to do with it. I didn’t recognize how that sprung forth from whom who I really am. I thought I was faking them out. I thought I was handing them a lie and they were buying the lie — and so how could I value myself? Any time you compliment somebody and they can’t take the compliment, what they’re saying to you is, ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’ That’s the message that anybody with low self-esteem gives back when somebody compliments them. Which is where I was. All that played into this fame thing.  And it plays backwards, too. The reason that I got into the fame game was because I didn’t have any sense of value. I thought, ‘Jeez, if I can get the millions to love me then I’ll be all right.’ I got the millions to love me — and it still wasn’t all right. What a surprise. Ha, ha, ha.” - Peter Tork, Toxic Fame: Celebrities Speak on Stardom (1996) (x)

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writingforfun0714 · 6 months

Text

Hey everyone, sorry it’s been so long since I’ve posted. Here’s Chapter 5 of my Arcane fanfic

Sisters of Mine (all chapters—definitely recommend reading before this)

Warnings: AU, spoilers, reader insert fanfic, POV changes

Word count: 7,406

Sisters of Mine: Chapter 5

3rd POV

It’s been 6 long years since the tragedy at the old cannery in the Undercity. Vi is now a tough young woman of 22 and has been in Stillwater prison ever since the night Vander died. She had to learn quick how to survive in such a brutal place and she has gotten used to the nightmares that have plagued her since that horrible night Vander was taken. In that time, Silco has raised Powder, now known to those in Zaun as Jinx, and is his daughter. She’s a master sharpshooter that’s a loose canon because of her unstable mental state. It sometimes seems like Silco actually can’t control Jinx. In turn, the 16yr old wildcard of a teenage girl has thought of the crime boss as a father figure and has gotten deeply attached to him due to what Silco thinks is empathy. Nightmares also haunt Jinx’s mind, both when she’s asleep and when she’s awake, but she, like Vi, has learned to live with them.

Last is Y/N. While she isn’t the best at engineering or inventing like her older brother Ekko, she does like to tinker and she’s grown into an excellent artist. She’s only 10, but she’s quick to help others and is quite curious, to Ekko’s dismay. He loves the girl obviously but he understands Vi’s frustrations in regards to being in charge of a living being and Y/N sometimes doesn’t know her limits.

Y/N’s coloring the mural when she sees Ekko and Scar along with a few others, including Eve. Eve is a young woman a couple years older than Ekko with short, shaggy pink hair and a scar on the bridge of her nose. She’s really nice and often looks out for the girl if Ekko and/or Scar is busy. If Y/N’s honest, Eve’s pink hair really reminds the girl of Vi and a part of her sometimes can’t tell the difference, though Eve completely understands and doesn’t mind at all. Ekko and Y/N make eye contact before the girl suddenly drops the paint brush and races over to the older boy.

“Bro? Where’re you going?” She asks running up to him.

“There’s a shipment of Shimmer going into the docks in Piltover. We’re gonna do somethin’ about it,” Ekko says smirking before turning serious.

“Stay here. You know the rules,” Ekko says. She nods and looks away, clearly upset she can’t go with him.

Reader POV

“Stay here. You know the rules,” Ekko tells me. I nod but look away, pouting with my arms cross over my chest.

“We’ll be back before you know it. Keep an eye on the place,” Ekko says and I nod again.

“I love you,” he says.

“Get outta here already!” I exclaim and shove him away as he chuckles.

“Alright-alright-but seriously, I do love you,” he says and I can’t help the small smile that tugs my lips up and I nod once.

“I know. I love you too big bro,” I say and hug him tight before pulling away to watch him and the others leave the sanctuary.

Once I’m alone I sigh and head back to the mural to clean up my paints. I head back into our house that is now perched up in the tall, thick, sturdy tree limbs. I get to my room and sit on mine and Ekko’s shared bed.

Word of our sanctuary grew among the Underground since Silco flooded Shimmer in. People had either gotten addicted to it or moved here. Because of our growing numbers, we have to be careful. Luckily there is a dedicated group to defending the sanctuary. They are self taught and most of them have been there the longest and are most loyal to me and Ekko. I look around and spot the toy I’m building. It has spinning blades and is supposed to be controllable. I’m working on the controller now and have been over the past 3 months. I can’t figure out how to solder the electrical motherboard. Ekko taught me the basics but not enough to build a device that transmits radio waves. I try not to worry about Ekko when he leaves, and it really helps knowing he’s not alone, but I can’t help it. If anything happened to him, I’d be alone and everyone would depend on me. I can’t help them…not like he can. I can’t do anything…not even make this stupid toy! Angrily I throw the wired board across the room and it clatters to the floor. I can’t just sit here and do nothing. That’s when I remember Ekko was having problems getting enough food. I know someone who’d gladly give us his extras. Jericho. Ekko doesn’t go to him because his shop is so close to The Last Drop but we need food and I know Ekko coming back to one less problem would help. I make sure I have my key before putting my shoes on and hurrying out. I lock the main door that keeps what little supplies we have.

I hurry past Lyanna, a young woman who lost her home due to Silco taking over her neighborhood. She’s really nice and I trust her.

“Lyanna, I’m going out. I’ll be back in an hour,” I tell her.

“Where’re you goin’?” She asks.

“Helping Ekko collect more food. One hour,” I repeat and she nods.

“Yeah-I got it, an hour. I thought you weren’t allowed to go off by yourself since last time-“ she says but I cut her off since I could tell she was going to mention the time Ekko scolded me in front of everyone.

“He’s desperate. I’ll be back,” I insist and she nods.

“Alright, be careful,” she tells me as I nod and run off into the Undercity.

I make my way through the alleys, streets and I even crawl through the sewers for a bit. I manage to come out of a dark but crowded alley to see the neon sign of The Last Drop. Home. Memories of Dad and my older siblings flash by in my mind. I love Ekko, but I miss them. I miss how things used to be. I hadn’t even noticed I was crying until I see my vision blur from the tears. I sniffle and angrily wipe away the tears. No. That doesn’t help. Ekko needs me now and I have to focus on my mission.

I know Jericho’s place is nearby but I’m not for sure. I try the alley to the left and hurry. So much has changed, it’s hard to tell where I am…but there are familiar buildings. Like Margot’s Pleasure House and Benzo’s boarded up shop.

The alley opens up to another market area and I look around and spot Jericho and his shop. Thank god. I walk through a small crowd and head to an empty stool. I climb up and tap the counter. Jericho turns and smiles widely when he sees me.

“Kid!” He exclaims.

“Hi Jericho, it’s been too long,” I say and he nods.

“I’ll say, you’ve gotten bigger since the last time I saw you,” he says and I smile.

“What’re you doin’ here?” He asks.

“I came to ask if you had any old food you could spare? We’re running low,” I say.

“Well I got these burned bread loafs I tried to make. I’ll definitely stick to stews and seafood,” he says, pointing to the wall behind the counter. I kneel up on the chair to see a stack of bread loaves that are darkened to black on one end.

“I think I also have some leftover gumbo,” he says, checking a stew pot on the counter by the sink in his kitchen area.

“Thanks Jericho,” I say as he packs up the bread and grabs a spare backpack. I watch as he pours the gumbo into a rusty pot and locks the lid.

“Keep the pot,” he tells me, putting the gumbo in first before stacking the bread loaves in on top.

“Really?” I ask and he nods.

“Sure,” he says and I smile.

“Thanks,” I tell him and he nods.

“So where’s Little Man?” He asks, handing me the pack full of food.

“He’s out at the docks trying to stop some sort of Shimmer shipment coming in,” I explain and Jericho’s eyes widen.

“Hey can I get a-“ someone tries to order, but Jericho glares at him.

“We’re closed!” He snaps, hitting the counter with his large hand, making everything rattle. The other customers scurry away. He leans in towards me.

“You have to get Little Man and the rest of your people out of there,” Jericho warns. My eyes widen.

“What? Why?” I ask.

“Word is Sevika is going to pick up this latest shipment of Shimmer,” Jericho says and I gasp.

“Sevika? She’s alive?” I ask and he nods.

“Ok, thanks Jericho..for the info and the food,” I say, shrugging the pack with my shoulder. He nods.

“Come see me again sometime…if you get the chance. It’s always good to see you kids,” Jericho says and I nod.

“You too…you know the offer to come live at the sanctuary’s still open,” I tell him.

“Ah, nah, the Lanes are my home. I can’t leave,” he says and I nod. Sometimes I wish I didn’t leave but I know we had to otherwise Silco would’ve killed us.

“Be safe,” I tell him and walk away with the pack of food.

“You too kid..and tell Little Man to come visit more often!” He calls to me and I wave, chuckling to myself.

I make my way through the alleys until I can look up and spot a bit of blue peeking through the buildings. I look around before seeing I’m alone and start climbing up.

I leap from a metal awning and onto a pipe sticking out. I grab hold of it and start inching my way up, swinging back and forth until I can swing my leg over and stand. I grab hold of a windowsill and pull myself up before jumping to another pipe that goes straight up. I scrape my knuckles against the brick building but manage to cling to the pipe, panting a bit. I manage to use my legs to help inch myself up. I pull myself with my arms with my foot slips and I fall briefly before I manage to catch myself!

“Gah!” I yelp, gripping the pipe for dear life.

I gasp and sigh with relief before pulling myself up. I manage to climb up to the side of a building that has a ladder and I get all the way to the rooftop. My breathing is a bit ragged, but that’s nothing new. Ekko had Scar look me over and he said I have ‘asthma’. It’s from the Undercity because lots of kids my age have it too. I look up and see the sky is so blue and bright that I have to squint slightly. I take a breath and enjoy the sweet fresh air for a moment. I grab my scope and look around.

As I look around, I see life is much different here than it is in the Undercity. People seem…happy. It’s…it’s not fair. I feel myself get angry and I realize that this is probably what Vi felt all those years ago when she was taking care of us. I can’t help the tears that form at the thought of my eldest sister with bright reddish pink hair. Stop! STOP THAT! I hit my head and pull my hair. I have to focus. Jericho said to get Echo and everyone else out of the docks. I don’t have time to be sad about anything right now.

I look through the scope again and see an airship heading a bit down near the big tower. There! I think those are the shipping docks! I shove my scope into my pants pocket and start making my way there.

Silco’s POV

I’m expecting a shipment of Shimmer from Piltover. Because I’ve had to expand production, one of my warehouses happens to be on Topside. I’ve had Marcus keep the Enforcers out of the area and he keeps me informed on the Council. The latest batch is ready but I know it won’t be an easy job, especially since the Firelight gang has gotten…bolder as they’ve been insignificant so far. I’ve sent Jinx to deal with them. Over the years I’ve noticed she seemed to have some sort of personal reason for attacking the Firelights. I’ve never questioned it since it helps me anyways. I just make sure Jinx doesn’t get in over her head. I can’t lose her. I’ve also sent Sevika, to make sure things go smoothly with the dock manager. Jinx was upset with me at first because she thought I thought she couldn’t handle it, and argued she didn’t need Sevika, but I made sure to give her clear instructions.

“Your targets are the Firelights. Let Sevika handle the Shimmer. Now..can I count on you Jinx?” My voice tells Jinx.

“Sure thing Pops,” Jinx’s bubbly voice response echoes in my mind.

3rd POV

Y/N finds her way to the docks and makes sure to hide. She hides behind a stack of wooden crates and spots an airship slowly coming in. The girl watches as various workers walk around until her eyes widen when she sees a hulking man with pale skin and tattoos. She recognizes him as one of Silco’s men. Y/N can’t see on the ship so she looks around and spots a place to climb up into the metal pipes that support the giant buildings. She only slips once but manages to catch herself until she can pull herself up onto a horizontal pipe so she can sit and look down.

On the ship, barrels of Shimmer are being loaded. Silco’s men make sure to keep track of how many barrels.

“Uh-shipping manifest?” The dock worker asks, holding out a clipboard of paperwork. A small pouch of coins is tossed on top and he looks up at the dark skinned woman standing before him.

“From your friend—downtown,” Sevika tells him, glancing at the bribe. The worker looks over and the muscular, tattooed man sneers at him, making the worker gulp nervously. He nods slightly and as he’s about to pocket the bribe, a flash of green light whizzes by! They gasp and Sevika stands at the ready. Masked Firelights, including Ekko fly by on hoverboards.

“Ah shit it’s the Firelights!” The worker exclaims. As people scramble, Ekko manages to toss a couple of crystallizing traps, pinning Sevika down. Ekko and the others land and the boy pulls out his stopwatch, clicking the timer button.

“We’ve got 5 minutes,” he instructs, unaware he’s being watched by Y/N.

A Firelight walks over to the barrels and pries the top open to see the sickening purple liquid.

“Have you ever seen this much Shimmer before?” She asks.

“They’re expanding,” Ekko says.

“Check for more below, burn it all,” he orders.

Two Firelights find the hatch that leads to below deck. Y/N watches as Ekko and the others move around on the top deck. Luckily the alarm hasn’t gone off yet. She looks and sees the other workers around the docks haven’t really noticed, just the ones near or on the airship.

Without warning, Y/N gasps when the airship suddenly explodes on the inside! It rocks back and forth as smoke billows out the windows that got shattered. The young girl watches smoke cover the top deck and that’s when she sees two long blue braids emerge from the smoke. Her dark eyes widen when she sees her older sister, Powder, who now goes by Jinx, step out. She blows her bangs out of her face.

“Hi,” Jinx greets before pulling out two grenades with chomping teeth and pulls the pins with her teeth. She throws the explosives as hard as she can, hitting the two Firelights beside Ekko, knocking them over the side and exploding. Y/N’s eyes are filled with shock and fear when she sees the two Firelights disintegrate in the explosions.

Jinx walks forward, twirling her pistol in her hand. Ekko grabs two more crystallizing traps and throws them at Jinx, but she easily dodges and fires off a shot at Ekko, that he ducks from. That’s when Y/N sees movement at the top of the ship and she realizes it’s Scar! He leaps down on Jinx, piercing the spot where she was with his spear, but she manages to see him in time and move. She aims at him and fires a shot! He manages to hold up his clawed hands in time. He has metallic gloves on but because of how close Jinx is to him, he gets knocked down and disoriented. Jinx jumps and stomps down on his head, forcing him to stay down. Y/N can’t help the anger that bubbles up inside her. Scar is like another older brother to her.

While Jinx is distracted, Ekko and another Firelight spill the Shimmer out of the metal barrels. Ekko whistles and the Firelight moves to the next barrel, opening the top. The Firelight ignites a flare and is about to drop it in when Jinx catches her wrist before roughly slapping the mask off, exposing the identity of the Firelight. Y/N sees it’s Eve, the girl with the same short, shaggy dark pink hair as Vi.

Jinx gasps, her eyes widen when she sees Vi!

“Vi?” Jinx asks. Eve gives her a confused, questioning look.

“I can’t lose you,” Vi’s voice echoes in Jinx’s head as a memory plays in her mind. She remembers sitting on her shared bed as Vi gently brushes her hair out of her face and gently strokes her cheek. But it’s not exactly the same. The pain warps the happiness.

“Why did you leave me?!” Powder wails.

“Because you’re a jinx!!” Vi’s voice snaps at her.

Jinx is so wrapped up in the painful memories that she doesn’t stop Eve from dropping her lit flare into the Shimmer, igniting a purple fire. Eve gasps and tries yanking her wrist out of Jinx’s grip, but Jinx won’t let go. Jinx’s dark eyes twitch in realization that the girl is not actually Vi. Eve manages to break free but that’s when Jinx grabs her pistol and instantly shoots Eve in the back!

“NO!” Ekko yells, reaching out to her. Jinx pants, holding the gun up by her head as she breathes hard. Ekko pulls out his pocket watch as the anger starts boiling in him. He looks at Jinx before looking down at the watch. His 5 minutes are almost up. It’s now or never! Ekko takes a few breaths before grabbing his metallic bat and charging Jinx, screaming.

“RAAAAUGH!” Ekko yells but that’s when Jinx pulls her gatling gun from behind her and sprays bullets.

“AAAAAGGHHH!!!! AAAAHGGGHHH!!!!” Jinx screams angrily. Fear and sadness takes over and all she can do is spray fire in every direction, not knowing where the Ekko and the Firelights are. Sevika manages to break free of her trap and hide but the hulking, pale man with tattoos isn’t so lucky. Jinx hits him and he cries out in pain.

Scar managed to get up at some point during Jinx’s firing and rescue Ekko. The surviving Firelights manage to get away on their hoverboards as Jinx’s gun slows to a stop. Sevika pushes past wooden boxes that are now destroyed thanks to Jinx. The dark skinned, one-armed woman storms up to Jinx and pushes her shoulder to make the teenager look at her.

“You were supposed to GUARD the cargo!” Sevika snarls as the Piltover alarm sounds in the distance. Jinx chuckles humorlessly with a small smirk. Sevika hears the alarm and looks away. Jinx tilts her head and darkens her glare, remembering how Mylo acted on the robbery job all those years ago. Knowing Enforcers will soon be swarming the area, Sevika and Jinx head back down to Zaun.

Y/N puts her scope down and thinks on everything she saw before also heading back down. She has to beat Ekko back to the Sanctuary otherwise he’ll know she was out when he told her not to.

Ekko’s POV

As we use our hoverboards to fly back down to the Undercity, I can’t help but replay everything that happened in my mind. Jinx killed Jax and Zane with her two grenades and Eve…Eve was shot in the back. She…she was so good with Y/N and I know the girl will be devastated to learn that we all didn’t make it.

“Hey, you good Little Man?” Scar asks me. I nod.

“Yeah…you know the drill,” I tell him and he nods back. Any time we lose someone, we prepare a funeral service. It’s nothing special really but it’s intimate and even though I don’t like funerals, I know it’s important to everyone else. Being in charge of the Sanctuary, I hate the services because it’s like losing a family member each time. I know I’m not alone in that feeling…but it’s different being the one everyone depends on.

We can’t go back for the bodies, so Scar usually goes around and asks for pictures of the deceased and gives them to Y/N. At first she thought they just went away…but would be back. But when Y/N was 8, she realized that each picture was of someone that died. I had a talk with her about it.

We descend into the Undercity. The air gets thicker and…grosser, plain and simple, but I’m used to it. We fly by the mines, where it’s the worst, but luckily it doesn’t last long.

We arrive back at the Sanctuary. The air is a bit better here thanks to our tree, especially compared to other areas of the Undercity, like the mines and the Lanes, but it’s nothing like Topside. We head through the small maze of alleys and come into the open courtyard with the tree.

Those that live here permanently look at us and when they see we are missing most of our people, they turn sad. I see Lyanna, a young woman who lost her home to Silco, hurry up to us.

“Ekko, we heard the alarm Topside sounded-“ she says, hugging him. He hugs her back lightly before pulling away. She looks at the group.

“Where are the others?” She asks. I shake my head.

“They…didn’t make it. We were ambushed by Jinx,” I explain and her face darkens. Lyanna knows Jinx through stories I told her.

I glance around.

“Where’s Y/N?” I ask and that’s when I see Lyanna shift on her feet nervously.

“I-well-“

“Lyanna?” I ask seriously. She’s about to answer but I see her eyes glance behind me. I turn and see Y/N walking in. We make eye contact and her eyes widen a bit.

“Oh shit-“ she says.

“Y/N! Where were you!?” I ask, running up to the girl.

“I-I was just-“

“I told you not to leave the Sanctuary while I’m gone-“ I scold as I take a knee so I can look the girl in the eye. I put a hand on her shoulder.

“I make these rules for a reason,” I tell her.

“I know-I just..I couldn’t just sit here while you do everything so…I thought I’d restock our food supply,” Y/N explains, taking off her pack. I watch curiously as she opens it and starts pulling out food wrapped in foil and in old containers.

“W-Where did you get all this?” I ask. This is one of our biggest restocks, even I couldn’t get this much last time I went out asking around. I notice that Y/N isn’t looking me in the eye and I realize I’m not going to like the answer.

“Y/N? Where did you get this food?” I ask seriously and she shifts.

“Jericho’s,” she admits.

“Y/N! You know you’re not allowed to go to the Lanes!” I snap angrily.

“I was careful! I made sure I wasn’t followed and no one even saw me!” Y/N argues with me.

“You don’t understand, it’s what could’ve happened! You know Silco’s base of operations is at the Last Drop!-“ I say.

“I can handle myself! I know I can’t fight like Vi, and I can’t shoot or make things like Powder could…but I’m small and sneaky. And Jericho seemed really happy to see me,” Y/N’s face softens at the mention of the seafood stand owner. I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration.

“I don’t want you going to the Lanes period, end of story. Understand?” I ask and she pouts.

“I’m not a little kid anymore Ekko, I can help out around here so you don’t have to do everything,” Y/N says and I freeze for a moment.

“W-What?” I ask.

“You do everything around here. You keep us safe. I wanna help you,” Y/N explains.

A memory from 6 years ago comes to my mind. It was a few days after Benzo and Vander were killed. Y/N was plagued by nightmares and I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened…about what could’ve been different. I remember something Y/N said about Powder. When they were left alone at the Last Drop, Y/N said Powder wouldn’t stop crying until she remembered the blue crystals they found on the job Topside I told them about. I wondered if Powder had been given something to do, would she have been alright?

Now…is the same true for Y/N?

“I..I know you wanna help out, but you’re only 10. You’re still a bit too young,” I tell Y/N.

“You’re just being overprotective big brother,” Y/N says. I smile.

“That’s what big bros are for. But…since you’re so eager to help me…I guess we could go on supply runs together. You could show me how you got to Jericho’s,” I tell her and her eyes light up.

“R-Really?” She asks excitedly and I smile and nod.

“Yeah…but together,” I tell Y/N seriously.

“Together,” she nods in agreement.

“Why don’t you go put that in the supply closet? I’ll meet you back in our room,” I say and Y/N nods.

“Ok!” She says and shoves everything back into her backpack and hurries over to the small brick and wood building off to the side, behind the tree.

I turn serious and look at Lyanna.

“I told you to make sure she stayed,” I tell Lyanna.

“I’m sorry Ekko—Y/N can be…stubbornly determined when she sets her mind on something,” Lyanna says. Stubbornly determined. Like her older sisters Vi and Jinx.

“Makes sense,” I sigh.

“You go ‘head and get cleaned up, we’ll take care of things here,” Lyanna says, motioning to Scar and the others. I nod my thanks and head up to my room I share with Y/N.

3rd POV

Despite the turmoil going on at the docks, life goes on for the Council and many others in Piltover, including Jayce Talis and his partner Viktor. Working together using their hextech science, Jayce and Viktor have set out to improve the lives of those in the Undercity, people like Viktor. Viktor himself has thought about using it to see if he improves from his own illness. Together, they’ve created 2 new inventions. The Atlas Gauntlets are giant mechanical gloves that allow mine workers to work more safely and efficiently. The other invention is a mechanical arm with a laser strong enough to cut through a block of obsidian rock. The two decided to show Council member Heimerdinger. Along with being the head of the Council as a leading founder of Piltover, Heimerdinger is also Jayce’s mentor and was originally Viktor’s boss.

While proud of the two boys, Heimerdinger concluded that the two inventors needed more safeguards for their inventions, rightfully so after Viktor nearly accidentally killed Heimerdinger’s poro that follows him everywhere. However, Heimerdinger doesn’t understand the urgency of Viktor’s illness, which is why he had such a problem with Heimerdinger’s objections.

Back at the docks, the new Sheriff of the Enforcers is talking to the bribed worker.

“I think there were 4 or 5 of them-“ he says. Young rookie, Caitlyn Kiramman makes her way into the crime scene and looks around at the destruction. Bullet holes cover everything, the floor is scorched and empty metal barrels lay all around along with the remains of the crystalline traps. Cait glances around. She looks and spots an open hatch to the deck below and sees a messy monkey head painted on it. Cait grabs her camera and takes a picture. She takes pictures of everything while looking at the bullet holes. The Rookie Enforcer holds her hand up and points around, mimicking Jinx’s movements from earlier until she spots one of the crystal traps has blood on it. She follows the trail and spots a small hiding space in the floor and shines her light in to see the huge, hulking man with tattoos. He groans, clutching his side. Cait gasps and jumps down to help him.

“What happened here?” She asks, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Who are you working for?” Cait asks and again no answer.

“Who shot you?” Cait asks and the man looks at her, wincing in pain, clutching his bullet wound.

“You can tell me, I’ll protect you,” Cait says.

“I can’t…he’ll kill me. She’s crazy,” he pants, breathing hard.

“Who?” I ask. Before he can answer, a shadow falls over them. Cait turns around, gasping when she sees Sheriff Marcus.

“Caitlyn Kiramman, why am I not surprised to see you?” he asks rhetorically.

“Interfering with an investigation, again,” Marcus scolds.

“I realize you’re used to getting your way, Kiramman, but we have a chain of command for a reason,” Marcus tells her.

“I understand, but there’s more going on here than just smuggling,” Cait tries to tell Marcus, “if I could question him-“ Cait motions to the injured man but Marcus interrupts.

“I’ll take it from here,” Marcus says definitively, “since you’re looking for work, you can take the graveyard shift tonight at the fair.” He orders.

“Yes sir,” Cait sighs.

“Good. I want this one on a boat to Stillwater prison,” Marcus orders before walking off.

“Yes sir,” an Enforcer replies.

Back in the Lanes, Sevika makes her way to Silco’s office in the Last Drop. She managed to grab a bottle of whiskey before walking into Silco’s office, shutting the door shut behind her. She sits and pulls the cork out of the bottle with her teeth, spitting it to the floor.

“She fired on us,” Sevika tells Silco, who’s sitting at his desk.

“There are always mishaps in battle. The Firelights were her target and most are dead,” Silco argues calmly as he flips a page in his paper, reading, seemingly not taking Sevika seriously as she takes a swig from her bottle.

“It wasn’t a mishap, she froze up and lost her shit. I could’ve handled those brats. She’s a problem and we all know it,” Sevika explains frustratedly.

“We? Who’s we?” Silco asks, turning to look at Sevika darkly. She looks away, not answering him.

“I expect better from you than excuses. It was your job to make sure things went smoothly. You failed. Don’t disappoint me again,” Silco tells her. Sevika grunts as she pushes herself up off the couch and she storms out, slamming the door behind her.

Silco sighs.

“The world’s growing smaller everyday, thanks to the Hexgates. And now, we’re cut off, the topsiders are leaving us further and further behind” Silco says, grabbing his eye poker off his desk and puts the two pieces together.

“What happened?” Silco asks and at first, there’s no answer.

“She already told you,” Jinx’s voice carries down from the rafters. Sevika hadn’t noticed but Jinx has been perched up on a wooden beam the whole time.

“I’m asking you,” Silco insists, wanting to hear Jinx’s side of the story. He hears a thump and turns to see Jinx sitting with her legs pulled up to her chin on his desk.

“One of those Firelight wackos was a girl…with pink hair,” Jinx explains.

“Hmm…” Silco says, turning to her. He holds out his eye poker to the wild, explosive teenage girl he considers to be his daughter. Despite her personality, he trusts her with his life and she with hers. They understand each other. Jinx takes it and moves to sit on the edge of Silco’s desk so she can lean against him, which he doesn’t mind.

“Your sister’s gone. You know that as well as I do,” he says as she leans against his chest.

“I know..I know! Sister’s right? Can’t live with ‘em, can’t shove ‘em back in the ol’ babymaker. Hehehe-“ Jinx says before blowing on the ring around the eye poker, making a slight noise.

“Today’s screw-up will set us back weeks,” Silco tells her. She lets her head rest against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Jinx apologizes before playing with Silco’s eye poker.

“I need to know that I can rely on you,” he says and grabs her wrist to get the girl’s attention and it does.

“I’m doing this for us, Jinx. All of us. The sons and daughters of Zaun deserve more than their runoff,” Silco tells her before leaning his head back.

“It won’t happen again,” Jinx tells him.

“I know,” he replies as she lines up the eye poker and makes one quick poke on his eye. He grunts in pain and bends forward a bit before managing to sit back and sigh with relief. Silco uses his hand to wipe away the excess Shimmer that leaks out of his eye.

“Sevika will clean up today’s mess,” he tells Jinx.

“Sevika?! That ogre couldn’t clean a dust bunny with a blowtorch,” Jinx argues.

“She’ll suffice. You should focus on your gadgetry,” Silco suggests.

“Ugh,” Jinx groans.

“Take some time,” Silco says as Jinx lays down on his desk.

“I-I don’t need time-“ Jinx tries.

“Take it anyhow,” Silco insists. Jinx’s lip trembles slightly as thoughts of being incompetent take over before she gets up and heads out to her own personal workshop.

Jinx grabs her grenades and sits on the propellor that hangs over the seemingly endless cavern below her. Her ‘workshop’ is actually part of a destroyed airship that hangs over the cavern that leads to the mines.

Ekko’s POV

Because she disobeyed my rules, I did have to ground Y/N. She’s not allowed to leave unsupervised. While she didn’t really argue, I can tell Y/N’s not happy about it.

The sun is set and things have settled down a bit. I’m tweaking the fan blades on my hoverboard while Y/N’s working on the mural. I see she’s adding in Jax, Zane..and Eve. Y/N’s just doing the basic shapes right now with chalk but I can tell who’s who. I didn’t tell her what happened though. I couldn’t so I blamed the Enforcers. I know I shouldn’t lie to her, but Y/N’s only 10 and she still thinks she can get her older sisters back. She definitely has Vi’s determination I’ll give her that.

“Ekko!” I hear Scar call to me. I turn and see him run up to me. I can easily see the worried look in his eyes.

“What’s going on Scar?” I ask, putting my tools down and pulling him a few feet away so Y/N doesn’t overhear.

“There’s been an attack, topside,” Scar tells me.

“An attack? Where?” I ask.

“The Progress Day ceremonial hall, where the new inventions are debuted,” Scar explains.

“Was it Silco’s guys?” I ask and that’s when Scar looks away uneasily. I frown.

“Scar? Who was it?” I ask.

“Jinx. I don’t have confirmation but there’s rumors she took something important to those fancy scientist topsiders,” Scar tells me and my eyes widen.

“She..took something?” I ask and he nods.

“I don’t know anything else, but we should be careful next time we attack Silco,” Scar tells me.

“There won’t be a next time. Lay low here for a while until the heat from Jinx dies down. Y/N just stocked up on food so we should be ok,” I say and Scar blinks in surprise.

“Y/N? As in, Y/N-Y/N? I thought you said she wasn’t ready for working around here-“ Scar says and I nod.

“I know-and yeah, she’s not. She left while we were out at the docks. She decided to go off on her own. The older she’s gotten, the harder it is to keep her out of trouble,” I sigh. I feel bad for Vi. She kept us all out of trouble when Vander or Benzo was busy. Now that I have that job…I can understand how stressed she must’ve been.

“I’ll have Kiyi and Senna keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn’t leave, yeah?” Scar asks me and I nod.

“Thanks,” I say, “and tell everyone to lay low here until the Enforcers calm down.” I remind him and Scar nods.

“Will do Little Man,” Scar replies and walks off, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I mostly wonder about what Jinx stole. I glance back and see Y/N starting to add details to the faces as well as the first layer of color.

3rd POV

Spending her night working the graveyard shift, Caitlyn was there during Jinx’s attack, and even caught in her as well as 6 other Enforcers in a massive explosion, killing everyone but Cait. She managed to catch a glimpse of someone chuckling before passing out.

Luckily Jayce was nearby and managed to get Cait to safety. He took her to a nearby clinic and despite her objections, took her back to her parents. Jayce explained what happened to the Kirammans but had to leave to check on Viktor. He didn’t want to leave his partner but the young man heard about the fire and explosion and the Enforcers.

Despite the robbery, Cait is still invested. She managed to gather all the information she could. Everything about the robbery, what was stolen, the photos she took of the docks, the monkey symbol. She had seen it trying to put out the fiery building before getting caught in that explosion. It has to mean something. There was also the muscular, heavily tattooed man that was shot. He made it seem like…like he was shot by someone he knew. Someone on his side. Friendly fire.

Cait is working in front of her evidence board on the floor when she hears a knock.

“Jayce?” She asks, turning to see the young man she sees as her older brother. He’s holding a bouquet of white lilies.

“Good, you’re here, I have to tell you something-“ Cait tells Jayce, hurrying up to him. She grabs him and pulls him towards her evidence.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” He asks, handing her the flowers.

“While the trail’s hot?” She asks back, tossing the flowers down to the side with the rest. She’d gotten nice ‘get well’ flowers from various people her parents know.

“What trail?” Jayce asks.

“I think the same person who started the building fire and killed those Enforcers is the same person who attacked the Hexgates,” Cait says.

“The same symbol showed up at the botched smuggling operation at the Hexgates.” Cait tells him, referring to the monkey head symbol.

“The Hexgates?”

“Keep up,”

“All this time, they’ve kept their dealings localized to the Undercity. Low priority. The attack on the square changes things. They’ve overstepped. If I can figure out who made this,” Cait says, putting down a picture of Jinx’s monkey symbol, “it could lead me directly to whoever’s behind it all. The answer is here, staring me in the face. I can feel it,” Cait steps on to her footstool and looks over everything.

“How do you intend to prove any of this?” Jayce asks.

“If I can just work this out, Marcus will have to listen,” Cait insists.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned about the Council, it’s that they need more than theories,” Jayce warns the young woman. Cait chuckles.

“Since when did you concern yourself with the Council’s opinion?” Cait asks.

“Since I..became a Councilor,” Jayce reveals. Cait looks at him and at first she doesn’t believe him but when she looks in his eyes, her face changes.

“You’re…serious? When? Why?” Cait asks, “have they discovered how to govern with grease and a spanner?” She jokes.

“Haha-“ Jayce replies sarcastically, “I was actually hoping you’d consider joining my staff,” he says, handing her paperwork in a message tube. Cait takes it and opens the canister to read the files inside.

“‘House Talis Security’. That’s a ceremonial position, I’d live behind a desk,” Cait says.

“You almost died, Cait. I just…I just want you to be safe-“ Jayce steps towards her but Cait shoves the canister back into Jayce’s chest.

“Thanks. But I already have a job-“ Cait says, kneeling down.

“No. You don’t,” Jayce reveals and Cait’s eyes widen.

“After the attack, your parents talked to the Sheriff,” Jayce explains and Cait groans quietly in frustration.

“This was the best I could do,” Jayce tells her.

“I don’t need charity, Councilor. Yours or my parents,” Cait replies, not looking at him.

“Cait-“

“Get out,” she orders in that quiet serious tone that Jayce knows not to argue with. Once Cait hears Jayce’s footsteps head out the door, she looks over at her map and sees Stillwater prison.

Marcus. Marcus sent that injured man there. Cait believes she can talk to him. She grabs what she needs, gets her clothes on and makes her way downstairs. She spots her father and hurries up to him.

“Father-I-I need to talk to someone about a case I’m working on..it’s important,” Cait tells him urgently.

“Cait-I…if…if you’re certain you can go,” he says, trying not to be as overbearing as his wife is. She nods.

“I feel fine,” she assures him and he nods.

“I’ll talk to your mother. Go. Come home when you can,” Mr. Kiramman says and the two hug before Cait sneaks out a side door of the estate.

Cait manages to take the ferry to Stillwater Prison and heads inside. It’s dark, cold…unpleasant. Cait walks up to the Warden’s desk.

“I need to speak to one of the inmates,” Cait says.

“Oh, folks in here aren’t usually very talkative,” the Warden tells Cait.

“This one was hit by friendly fire. He’s got reason to talk. Must have been sent in…today?” Cait asks.

“Oh. Inmate 2135,” the Warden recalls.

“Yeah uh..I’m afraid that’s not possible,” he tells Cait. While the two talk, said inmate is getting his jaw broken by a cafeteria tray.

“Why not?” Cait asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh..well, there’s been..an incident,” he says.

“What kind of incident?”

“The not so pretty kind,” he tells the rookie Enforcer.

“You don’t understand, I have to talk to him,” Cait insists.

“Oh, you’ll be able to talk to him…as soon as he can move his jaw again,” the warden explains.

“Who assaulted him?” Cait asks.

“Inmate 516, sub level 40, cellblock 25,” the warden tells Cait, who nods her thanks before walking back to the elevator.

Cait makes her way through the hall, clutching a manilla folder to her side. As she gets closer to cell 25, she hears a noise every second or so. A thudding sound. Like something hitting the cement walls. Cait stops in front of cellblock 25 and spots a mop of shaggy, short, bright pink hair that’s shaved on one side. The inmate’s head turns to reveal her ice blue eyes and small cheek tattoo

“Who the hell are you?” The pink-haired prisoner asks Cait.

End.

Chapter 6

#arcane #arcane fanfic #arcane sisters of mine #arcane fanfiction #fanfiction #arcane fanfic chapter #arcane fanfic chapter 5 #chapter 5 #sisters of mine #sisters of mine chapter 5 #arcane reader insert #female child reader

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nehswritesstuffs · 2 years

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Baratie: Home to Chefs, Strays, and the Occasional Sword Goblin - Part 5

I have to admit: I keep on writing stuff for this story, but it’s never the things that I need to post next, and that ends up being a problem lol.

First chapter on [tumblr] - [FFN] - [AO3]

Prior chapter on [tumblr] - [FFN] - [AO3]

With the Syrup contingent now gone, it’s time for the marimo to settle into the new situation he has found himself in. [3222 words]

The first thing that Zoro noticed was that there really wasn’t a lot to do at the Baratie.

Well, there was for Eyebrow-Swirl. The man was up at the ass-crack of dawn cooking for the four of them, staying late to take care of stragglers in the restaurant, making sure everything was orderly and in shape only the way they could accomplish. What that left was him with a bouncy preschooler and a cantankerous old man who was advised to be left alone. Had it been any other doctor than Chopper, that order would have been handily ignored, but since it was Chopper, and Zoro trusted Chopper, he guessed he would leave the ancient barnacle to his radio-snail and what was probably smut books appropriate for an elderly auntie. He didn’t know—the younger man really didn’t care to investigate.

That still left the fact that he had said bouncy preschooler the entire time his shitty blond uncle was busy with the rest of the ship.

“Don’t you have toys or something?” he asked one afternoon. “Books you can read? Things you can study? Do kids still study?”

“Uhh… I don’t… not really…?” Asido said. He was practicing his flips as Zoro tried to nap out on the deck, which was becoming increasingly irritating. “This is me studying.”

“So you don’t have anything…?”

“Not anymore…?” Asido stopped his somersault chain to stare at the green-haired man. “Mom took me in kind of a rush. I don’t need a lot though, because Mom will come get me again.”

Zoro raised an eyebrow. “When’s that?”

“We dunno, but it can’t be too long if Uncle Sanji doesn’t even know how long,” the boy grinned. “Grandpa Zeff says he’s getting me a bunch of old issues of Sora to read while I’m here! Isn’t that cool?!”

“I guess…? If you’re into that sort of stuff…”

“Uncle Sanji says it’s been running for so long that there’s adults who are fans who’ve been reading it since they were little. He said you knew a few.”

“We know a lot of people, so it’s kind of a given.”

“How many people…?”

“Just… it’s a lot.” He watched the boy jump and tumble about, then grinned with an idea that was sure to raise Twirls’s hackles. “Say, you wanna learn how to fight? I can teach you.”

“Mom says that fighting is bad, but Uncle Sanji wants me to learn this stuff so I don’t get stolen.” Zoro mused on that for a moment, nodding his head.

“Shit-cook ain’t wrong about that, but if you really want to protect yourself, I can teach you what I know.”

“Really…?” Asido’s eyes flicked towards his adult’s swords and back to his face. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

“I won’t start you with live steel, kid. You probably won’t even hold shinai until you’re at least six.”

“Can… I… um… still do Uncle Sanji’s stuff too…?”

“Yeah—it’ll be good for you to do a lot of things now when you’re little, because then you can pick what you like as you get older, and it keeps your body doing different things.” Zoro let the boy contemplate that before letting out a chuckle. “How about if we take a break from that stuff and start with an exercise to improve your focus?” He patted the bit of deck next to him and Asido sat down crosslegged, mimicking him. “Now, close your eyes.”

“Done!”

“You have to be calm for this, sprout,” Zoro warned. “Now, take a deep breath in, a deep breath out. Don’t think. Again.” The boy listened to him as he repeated the order firmly, calmly. “Now, think about your mom. Do you see her?”

“Uhh… no…?”

“You know how when you close your eyes and imagine things…?”

“…yeah…?”

“It’s like that.”

“…am I supposed to see things when I do that…?”

“This is getting nowhere—okay, just, think about your mom. I don’t care if there’s a picture there or not. What can you tell me about her?”

“She’s really warm,” Asido said. “Where we live isn’t like here—it’s pretty cold.”

“Good, good; what else?”

“She’s very pretty. Her hair is pink like strawberry ice cream and her eyebrows curl like mine. She… uh…” The boy mentally grasped for things in his attempt to fulfill the exercise. “She’s often sad.”

“Sad…? About what…?”

“I dunno—work, I guess. She’s always working… but when we were coming here, she smiled a lot! Real smiles! Not just the ones she makes when she’s really sad but wants me to feel better! She does a lot of that.”

“Huh…” Zoro let that sink in. “I don’t know your mom as well as I know your uncle, but he has smiles like those too, so I kind of get it.”

“Yeah… I know… he hasn’t smiled much for real since I got here, because he smiles just like Mom.”

Zoro made a mental note—he wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to use this information, but it was definitely going to be useful. “If it makes you feel any better, it’s nothing to do with you.” He placed a hand on Asido’s head and ruffled his hair. “I think they’re both just like that.”

“Why…?”

To avoid answering a ticking time bomb of a question, Zoro simply shrugged. “They’re brother and sister—siblings are like that sometimes.” Asido then opened his eyes and looked at him, the boy’s brain clearly in overdrive.

“Do people normally have siblings? Mom and Uncle Sanji have each other, and then Merry has her sisters…”

“I don’t know. What I do know is that we just failed the exercise.” He watched as the child’s eyes grew wide in fear—they failed. “It’s okay—we only failed because we got off topic, and it’s good to fail the first few times anyhow. We can try again later. Go back to that… flippy shit.”

“Are… you… um…?”

“…am I what?”

“Mad at me…?”

“No…?” Zoro used his Haki to feel the lad’s emotions—he was nervous, confused, and a bit… the fuck… the kid was scared.

What the fuck, Curls?

“Sprout, why would I be mad at you? You’re literally one of the best kids I’ve ever met. It’s spooky, actually, how good of a kid you are. Does anyone yell at you normally?”

“No…?” Okay… it seemed like he was telling the truth.

“Has anyone yelled at you?” Asido shook his head. Nothing was catching Zoro’s Observation Haki and he frowned. “Don’t worry then, alright? Zoro-oji isn’t going to let anyone get mad at you… not like that.”

The little boy nodded slightly, avoiding eye contact. “Thank you. Can I do my flips now?”

“As much as you like, okay?”

Quietly, Asido went back to his preferred expanse of deck and resumed practicing his tumbling. Zoro pretended to tuck back in for a nap, instead watching the boy carefully. The kid’s actions had a whole new layer to them, one he didn’t like in the slightest, reminding him of days he’d rather forget and people he wanted to simply punch in the face, else risk sullying his swords. It made the man wonder how much his old crewmate was accidentally ignoring, or simply letting go because that was just how things were, and he needed to get to the bottom of it.

Before long, Sanji was calling out from Zeff’s balcony that it was time for dinner. Asido gasped in delight and waited until Zoro stood before grabbing his hand and leading him through the Baratie. By the time they made it to Zeff’s room, Sanji was nowhere in sight despite the fact their food was waiting for them on the table.

“It’s a rough day in the kitchen,” the old man explained. He saw the brow above Zoro’s good eye raise and he passed Asido the comic section. “It looks like Sora’s a good one today.”

“Thanks!” the boy beamed, munching happily on his rice while reading through the page. His adults looked at one another and Zeff could see that something was wrong with Zoro.

“Is there something I should know about?” the older man asked.

“Not sure—just, it doesn’t seem like something matches.”

“It doesn’t?”

“Yeah. Not sure what it means, but I’m gonna talk to Curly about it.”

“You know he’s fucking terrified, yeah?” Zoro did not respond verbally, instead nodding. “He doesn’t think he knows what to do.”

“He knows what you did.”

“He knew awkward conversations from someone highly underqualified and the end of my peg when that didn’t work. Before that, he knew hunger and pain. We’d do it again if we had to—I’d do it a thousand times just to fuck ‘em over—and there’s so much I know he wants to be different for this one.”

“I guess he’s just gonna have to figure that out pretty quick,” Zoro shrugged. He saw that Asido was now bouncing in his chair as he read, clearly distracted. “You know… you know how Usopp said he never thought he’d be doing all the things he’s doing…?”

“…go on…”

“I really don’t think the cook ever anticipated this… any of it.”

“To be fair, I didn’t either,” Zeff said casually. “When I was your age, I was too busy getting piss-drunk and fighting everyone I met—hadn’t even discovered cooking. Didn’t think I’d make it past thirty or so, let alone be here. Eggplant… he and I are a lot alike, as much as he hates to admit it, and I can guarantee that he’s having a bonafide crisis.”

“Do you speak from experience?”

“Fuck, I was having a crisis when he was sailing his ass back over here; they doesn’t stop.” The older man regarded the food on his fork before popping it in his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “Whatever it is you want to talk to him about, I’m sure is only going to worry him even more, so be careful. You know how he fusses.”

“Yeah, don’t remind me,” Zoro shuddered. “Maybe if I can keep him to a minimum…”

“Eggplant’s minimum is normal people’s maximum—don’t be a damned fool.”

“Zoro-oji? Grandpa Zeff? I’m done,” Asido declared. His caretakers turned their attention towards him—his plate was empty and the newspaper folded neatly. “Can I please go back outside?”

“Nah; what you’re gonna do is take a shower to clean off all that exercise, and then you can stay in here for a bit,” Zeff said. “I can tell you a bunch of stories from when your uncle was little… right after I first found him.”

“Oh! Neat!” The lad slid off his chair and bolted out of the room.

“Your time is maximized—use it wisely,” Zeff said gravely.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The thing that Sanji noticed with Zoro around was that he still couldn’t really keep his mind off his nephew.

How was Asido doing? Was the kid hungry? Did he stay outside to play for long enough? Was he hitting his marks correctly with his flips? Could Zoro handle watching such a potentially unique kid?

…because in all honesty, watching over Usopp’s wee saplings was a much different affair than watching over Asido. The girls—lovely as they were—demanded constant attention from whomever had them. They were a juggling act in a bizarre sense. To go straight from that to a kid who seemed really good at being by himself… could he keep his attention span together long enough to be there when the kid actually needed him? Exactly how much of the programming that Judge forced on Reiju did Asido inherit? What exactly was his sister risking by hiding the boy and bringing him there, where scientists were in short supply and no one really knew medical shit aside from basic first aid?

“Are you alright, chef?” Sanji snapped out of his train of thought and found himself back in the kitchen. He was supposed to be on a supervisory shift that night, but was quickly losing his focus.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he lied. The chef in front of him simply raised his eyebrow. “I just have a lot on my mind, is all. It’s not like I’m running a whole-ass restaurant with two offshoots or anything.”

“Just making sure,” the chef said, raising his hands in surrender. “You’ve just seemed more distracted than usual lately.”

“It’s fine.”

“If you say so.”

Shit… he really was getting too distracted, wasn’t he? Somehow, Usopp’s pep-talk about fatherhood kept nagging in the back of his mind as he maintained order over the kitchens. There had not been the usual lag between the lunch and dinner rushes that evening, meaning he was surviving on a few handfuls of nuts, some spoon-tastings of the varying dishes they had going, and pure, unadulterated spite. So really, it was business as usual, except he was extra-cranky and as verging on the edge of spacey.

Eventually, he saw Zoro out the corner of his eye, bringing in a tray while Asido guided him in. The moss was being particularly not-lost as of late, no small thanks to his pint-sized guide, and it really showed. Asido grinned and waved before dashing off, while Zoro handed off the tray to a dishwasher before approaching Sanji.

“What the fuck do you want?”

“Hey, shit cook, I got to talk to you,” Zoro scowled.

“Not now, plant-brain,” Sanji barked. “I got the dinner rush to contend with.” A second and he realized something was off. “Where’s Asido?”

“Going back to the old man,” Zoro said, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder as though he was gesturing towards them. He wasn’t. “It’s about the kid, actually.”

“Don’t tell me you’re ducking out already, you sack of shit.”

“No—he said something and I don’t know why the fuck he said it. Was hoping you’d know a bit more.”

Sanji blinked at that as the information washed over him. Oh… it was the marimo doing his job. He did a quick visual check over the kitchen and told the lead saucier to keep an eye out for him before ducking out the back onto the rear deck.

“Okay,” he said, lighting a cigarette. “Have at it.”

“I was doing a concentration exercise with the sprout and when I said we failed he was worried I was angry.”

Huh… not what he was expecting.

“Let’s pick this apart so that I understand,” Sanji groaned. “You were doing a concentration exercise with Asido? Why…?”

“I’m gonna teach him swordsmanship… or, at least, see if he’d be any good at it.”

“At risk of the twinge in the back of my head growing: why would you do that?”

“Something to do,” Zoro shrugged. “We got off-topic, which I expected, because he’s four, and I explained that it meant we failed.”

“You don’t tell a four-year-old they failed.”

“Why not? Hiding it won’t do them any favors.”

Yeah, the twinge was going to become a headache. “Okay, so after that… what the fuck happened?”

“I don’t know—that’s why I’m talking to you.” Zoro looked extremely irritated, as though he was ready and willing to turn the conversation into a physical altercation. “He was worried I was pissed off. Seemed almost like he was afraid I might hit him hard or something. What the fuck did your sister teach him?”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Sanji growled. “My sister might not be good, but she’s not cruel. Besides, Emperor Fuckwad and the Trio of Scientific Perfection don’t even know he exists, so the list of potential belligerents is pretty fucking short.”

“Well, it’s not your old man; kid fucking loves the guy.”

“How, I don’t know; just don’t scare Asido, alright? I know it’s difficult with your Resting Murderface, but I’ll keep an eye on him too.”

“Fuck off—the only reason I’m here is because you can’t be with him all the time. I just need to know whose fucking mistakes I’m dealing with before things get really fucked.”

Sanji had not been aware before then that his patience was particularly taut that evening; it only seemed the normal amount when faced with the combination of dinner service while the sword-idiot was wandering about. However, that did not stop his oh-so-gracious levels of patience to snap in two as he jabbed Zoro’s chest with a finger.

“Listen, asshole, I’m going to make one thing perfectly clear right now and it’s up to you to remember, got it?”

“Fucking out with it, cook.”

“My nephew is no mistake. If you put so much as one toe out of line when it comes to him, I can and will kick you so hard you’ll find yourself landed on whatever fucking island the Hearts are on, but not before I pin a note to your shirt telling Law I’m cashing in my favor and it’s to dissect you into tiny little bits so that I can watch you can put yourself back together.”

“You got a favor due from him too? I should almost be pissed he cheated on me with you, curls.”

“You’re a fucking piece of shit.”

“You’re the one getting clingy to Torao, of all people. Asshole probably isn’t even in this Blue.”

“Well then, that should make it clear how hard I’ll kick you, eh?”

Both men prepped for a physical fight, one lighting his leg on fire whilst the other popped a sword from its sheath. Their weapons clashed—heel meeting steel—and they snarled at one another as they readied for their first real fight in years.

“Uh… chef…?” They looked over to see that the schmuck that Sanji had left in charge of the kitchen was now poking his head out of the door. “I hate to interrupt, but there is a customer that wants to talk to you.”

“Can’t it wait?!”

“We suspect it’s a critic—their behavior points towards them knowing some blokes that came in before you returned that nearly butchered the place’s reputation.”

With an exaggerated groan, Sanji put his foot out and shoved his hands in his trouser pockets; Zoro relaxed in-turn. “You can’t get rid of them?”

“They’ll only speak to the chef in charge, and with Chef Zeff laid up… that’s you.”

Sanji tossed the remainder of his cigarette in the ocean and spat. “We’ll finish this later, mossball.”

“I’ll count on it,” Zoro replied.

Sanji followed the messenger out into the dining area of the restaurant, wanting to put the situation to rest. As it turned out, the person complaining was nothing more than a charlatan, setting the man off and creating a scene as he kicked them out in a display fitting for what was not only the finest dining experience on the seas, but the toughest as well.

By the time Sanji was able to catch a moment, Zoro was long gone. It was so late, in fact, that everyone else on his floor was asleep, completely unbothered by the fast-paced day. The blond trudged into his room and nearly didn’t make it to his bed before allowing himself to fall asleep. Whatever the fuck he was going to do about his and the marimo’s chat was going to have to wait until later.

How much later, however, remained to be seen…

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

A/N: Sometimes I wonder if what Oda meant by the fact that Zoro would be a cop if he wasn’t in the world of One Piece if that just means he’d be the most swole social worker in the juvenile division.

#Roronoa Zoro #Zoro #Sanji #Kuroashi Sanji #Blackleg Sanji #One Piece #fan fiction #Red Leg Zeff #Aka Ashi no Zeff #Asido (OC)#I might as well start tagging for the kids #it's not Sanji that's founder of the Let's Fuck with Germa 66 Club; it's Zeff and Zoro #ZoSan #it's not a lot but I'll let y'all know when it gets really intense #Vinsmoke Sanji

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marsleone · 2 years

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☆ & * . ♡ i n t r o . . .

[ LAKEITH STANFIELD, CISMALE, HE/HIM ] ; have you seen MARSHALL ‘MARS’ LEONE around VIRGINIA BEACH? the TWENTY-NINE year old MUSIC PRODUCER is known for ( FLIGHTS TO CALI, PRODUCING RADIO HITS, AFTER PARTIES, HOSTING PRIVATE EVENTS ) … around the TOWN CENTER district they have a reputation of being DETAIL ORIENTED and FIXATED but also STRONG WILLED and RESERVED. rumor has it they’re hiding HE WAS INVOLVED IN A ROBBERY WHEN HE WAS YOUNGER WHERE HIS BEST FRIEND ENDED UP LOSING HIS LIFE…let’s hope the GOSSIP HOTTIE doesn’t find out ! kay,25,est,she/her @vabeachintros

trigger warning: drugs, guns, violence, robbery, death, home invasion

☆ &*— bio.

mars leone grew up in the bronx, new york city, new york. his grandmother raised him and his brothers and his younger sister. their mom was addicted to drugs and had abandoned them when they were all under the age of ten. sometimes she’d come around and sometimes she’d be gone for years. as for their father, no one even knew what his name was, and one times mars was slapped across the face by his mother for even asking about him. mars learned at an early age not rely on a soul. that he could only trust himself. the four of them shared a tiny apartment in one of the most unsafe neighborhoods on the block. with nothing but time on his hands, mars found his way into trouble. he would go outside to play with the neighborhood kids but the violence, gangs, and drugs around them in the neighborhood could only be shielded from them for so long.

mars spent his whole upbringing feeling like an outcast, and wanted nothing more than to belong to something bigger than him. his grandmother was always working overnight, so by the time he’d get off the bus from school, she was already gone for the night. him and his siblings barely had any supervision at all. they were left to their own devices, it wasn’t by choice, their grandmother would have stayed home to give them the love and attention they so desperately needed but then they would have no money to eat or have new school clothes. it was real state of survival and lack that he lived through and was constantly afraid of never having enough. he didn’t realize it, but this environment gave him bad anxiety. with no supervision and no guidance whatsoever, mars started running the streets with older boys in the neighborhood who had no business putting him into the situations they did.

at first it started off with small things, stealing out of the bodega just so they could have something to eat for lunch, but then things started to be less about survival and more about what they could get away with. the lines got blurry and suddenly mars was lost in the wind, swept up in the adrenaline of it all. it took his best friend dying in his arms from a home invasion gone wrong to straighten him up, there wasn’t supposed to be anyone home, they were supposed to just go in, get what they could pawn, and make it back out. they weren’t supposed to come home and catch them in the act. mars’ best friend pointed a gun at the family and before they knew what was happening, the father pulled out a rifle from the coat closet and fired two rounds. mars had to leave his dying friend alone in order to escape and make it out without being identified or caught.

this was so traumatic for mars and he finally saw how dangerous and how far he’d gone down this path. he vowed by his best friend that he’d clean his act up, that he’d make legit money, go after his music dreams and never look back. mars went into isolation and stayed to himself, no one knew the secret he was carrying on his heart. people had their suspicions, but they didn’t know for sure what happened that fatal day of the robbery.

mars started to do more with producing music, he makes beats from scratch, plays the instruments himself and mixes everything with his own equipment. he’s produced songs for some of the biggest rap names in america and as soon as he had the status and money to do so, he picked the most lowkey and far away place he could think of where no one would know his past but somewhere he could continue his future, he ended up in virginia beach, virginia still producing for big music names around the world using the name he’d already created for himself in the new york music scene.

#bio #mars #vabeach:intro

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drasnianfrank · 4 years

Text

You ever read a book that was entirely focused on the most boring characters and finally, halfway through, switched to the characters I Actually Care About?

So, I read a book called The Toll by Cherie Priest. The synopsis describes newlyweds drove across a seventh bridge to some swamp land in Georgia. Husband wakes up the next morning and his wife is gone because there isn’t actually a seventh bridge. Good creepypasta stuff there (Aside: I love me some good creepypasta stuff, like I follow three youtube channels of creepypasta stuff, I read creepypastas for fun, I have creepypastas memorized, that’s how much I love me some good creepypasta shit). Because this is not, though, a short story on the internet that knows it’s audience has the attention span of five year old hyped up on Lucky Charms and Mountain Dew, actual plot and character “beats” happen.

Now, I could describe, in excruciating detail, on why the novel fell flat, how turning something eerie and unsubstantial into a substantial, vaguely gator-shaped monster is unsatisfying. How unappealing the main characters were (the husband regularly gaslit his wife, the seventeen year old who is right on the edge of being a stalker of a bar waitress, and the bartender who is just, frankly, a complete schmuck). The side-eyeing I give when a place is set in Georgia and no one seems to be apparently black (Aside: when the author describes hair as blonde and doesn’t give a hint that anyone else is Not White, I’m going to assume everyone is White). (Aside of an aside: which by the way, if racism isn’t part of your Southern Gothic Horror, whether as a positive or negative, then you fucked up doing Southern Gothic Horror). But you know, what I want to talk about is the wasted potential of the two best characters.

The actual interesting characters of the book are two women who raise seventeen creeper. They are described as cousins who have lived together their whole lives and also are witches. At the beginning of the book, they are old and mostly infirm and by the end, they have become kick-ass monster hunting ghosts. The book should’ve been about them right from the beginning.

Actually, tomorrow I’m going to post what the story should’ve been, but, uh, it’s a bit long, so I’ll leave this for now.

#The Toll #southern gothic horror #racism? in my horror?#more likely than you think #stop having horror centered around sad white boys 2021 #monster hunting kickass ghosts #don't be a creeper to your servers #also #other small detail #boy was supposed to be raised by old people and the radio #and so talked funny #and that was not obvious #at all

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h0nkch0c0late · 3 years

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omg. you are an angel from god it’s so hard to find demetri fanfic anywhere. can you please do an imagine where the reader comforts him and takes care of him after the fight at the larusso’s house? thank you so much :)

You don't know how long I've been thinking about this scenario omg 😭 also, Demetri kinda needed to go to the hospital sooooo I changed your request a bit if that's okay.

Demetri Alexopoulos

Warnings: SPOILERS OF SEASON 3!, injury

Summary: after the fight at the LaRusso house, Y/n drives Demetri to his home after a visit and a cast at the hospital, taking care of him and giving him as much comfort as she can.

Y/n wasn't happy. Not at all. Tonight was supposed to be a night where they could all just relax and have a party, but they never can catch a break when it comes to Cobra Kai.

Now Y/n sits in the driver's seat of her mother's car, driving herself and her very injured boyfriend Demetri to the hospital.

Demetri sat in the passenger's seat, left hand holding his broken arm as he groaned in pain, small whimpers escaping as well as he looked out of the window.

One of Y/n's hands came down to rest on his lap in a comforting way as the other stayed on the wheel, her eyes focused on the road. "It's alright, I know it hurts but we're getting you to the hospital. Do you want me to call your mom?"

Demetri's moaning and groaning stopped as he turned his head to her, "n-no. I'm sure she'll figure it out when I get home."

"Demetri-"

"Please? Your comfort is really all I need right now and I don't think my mom repeatedly asking me if I'm okay would exactly help me."

Y/n sighed, glancing over at the boy with a small smile, "Alright, do you want me to stay over at your house while I'm at it?"

Demetri's eyes lit up, "that would be great!"

Y/n raised a brow, "you do realize I was joking, right? We have school tomorrow and I don't wanna go drive from place to place just to grab clothes and then stay at your house. On top of that I'll have to call my mom and tell her where I am and why I'm staying there on a school night which, might I add, would be very irritating to tell-" She stopped her rant when she glanced back at Demetri again.

He sat there, one hand holding his arm as he gave her the doe eyes that she just couldn't say no to. "Please?"

Y/n sighed in defeat, "Alright, alright fine. But I am going to call your mom to tell her what happened too."

Demetri nodded in agreement, "just tell her not to come to the hospital?"

"I'll tell her that we're all just getting checkups and that I will explain more to her later. Don't worry babe, I've got all this under control."

Both of them went silent, enjoying the soft music coming from the radio as they drove.

Though, the silence made Y/n think back to the event at the LaRusso house. How she made direct eye contact with her old best friend, pleading him not to do it. How he looked like he wouldn't do it for a second, but right when she thought it, he did it anyways. The cry of agony from Demetri as she heard his arm snap. It made her angry how someone so close to them could hurt them so easily.

The hospital visit went exactly how you thought it would. Demetri's arm getting checked out, him not wanting to let go of Y/n's hand, Y/n calling his mother to tell her vaguely what happened, then calling her mother, the works.

And now she lays there on Demetri's bed, her back leaning against the headboard with pillows to support her with him laying in between her legs, his eyes cast on the ceiling as a blanket was pulled over both of them. his casted arm laying against his stomach.

She ran a hand threw his hair gently, playing with different strands as she had her other arm around his waist, his head leaning against her chest.

"I just...I can't believe he would do that. To me of all people! It was all going great until they started chanting for him to break my arm." Demetri ranted in disbelief, "we were best friends! What happened?!"

Y/n took a deep breath as she kept playing with his hair, moving her hand from his waist to his free hand and interlocking their fingers. "People change, De. And if that's the side he wanted to be on, so be it. Don't blame yourself."

Demetri sighed, closing his eyes. "I guess you're right but..."

"No buts, Demetri. That was Eli's choice and Eli's choice alone. How about instead of worrying about what happened, you just relax."

Demetri didn't say a word after that, only letting his body relax against hers and slowly falling asleep, basking in the comfort that is his girlfriend. "You are the best girlfriend in the world, you know that?" He told her with a small yawn.

She smiled at him, "I do know that, but thanks for telling me anyways." She chuckled.

"God I love you so much." He said quietly through another yawn as he fell asleep.

Y/n chuckled once again at the now-sleeping boy, "I love you too, dummy." She kissed the top of his head before leaning her head against the headboard, closing her eyes. She may have fell asleep a little uncomfortable, but at least her boyfriend was as comfortable as he could be.

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

I kinda strayed from the original idea a little bit more than I intended to...oops. I hope this is to your liking though! ALSO I KNOW I GOT THE EVENTS MIXED UP IM SORRY I KINDA FORGOT WHICH EPISODES WERE WHICH BUT I PROMISE I WILL MAKE ANOTHER LIKE THIS LMAOOO IM SO DUMB

#x reader #imagine #demetri cobra kai #cobra kai #demetri alexopoulos x reader #demetri alexopoulos #miyagi do #karate #cobra kai x reader

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dreamescapeswriting · 3 years

Text

Silent Treatment ~ OT7 [M] [Request]

WORD COUNT: 3.3K

PAIRING: ot7 x reader

GENRE: ot7, non! Idol, family relationship, smut, oral f recieving, female appreciation, we’re sorry sex,

A/N: I’m still not 100% there with ot7 smut, I am trying though so I hope that this is okay for you! I didn’t add too much smut as you only said a little. I hope you like it!

If someone had told you that you would be in a happy relationship with seven men, you never would have believed them. You never took yourself as someone who would be into polyamorous relationships but when you met the boys it all changed. They were kind, sweet, caring and they all loved you equally so it was no wonder you fell hard for them. Eventually moving into a huge home together and having a child. The only difficult part about that was explaining to your daughter’s teachers that she had different people going to pick her up from school. The dirty looks you would get from other people who thought your business was automatically their business when it had absolutely nothing to do with them.

“Mummy!” You snapped out of your daydream when you heard the familiar cry of your daughter’s voice. The more she grew older the more she began to look like you. Which you were thankful for. Neither you nor the boys knew which of them was the father, none of you wanted to know either. Collectively she was your child and that was the only thing that mattered.

“Hey sweetie, how was your day?” You questioned as you bent down to pick her up, placing her onto your hip as she began to list off everything she had been doing in class that day. You couldn’t believe she was almost seven years old, time flew by so quickly with her.

“We did maths! I learnt how to multiply up to 10 today.” You giggled as you began heading back to the family car. It was supposed to be Yoongi’s turn picking her up today but it turned out he was busy and stuck at work. No big deal, you were mostly a stay-at-home mum and wife anyway since seven of them earnt far more than you knew what to do with.

“Are my dad’s at home?” A filthy look flew in your direction from the woman in the car beside your car. You weren’t stupid. You knew how everyone felt about your relationship with her fathers. Even the teachers in the school weren't best pleased that your daughter understood that she had more than one father. They expressed that they would rather have her know them as her uncles but who were they to tell you how to raise your daughter?

“Daddy Namjoon and Jungkook are but they’re a little busy, sweetie.” You strapped her into the back of your car, taking her book bag from her to check if she had homework to do.

Normally it was Namjoon’s job to help with the homework, something you were trying to make happen so she knew it was okay as she grew older but not tonight. Tonight he and Jungkook were making renovations on the house so it was going to be you that helped her out.

“Okay, I’ll ask daddy Hoseok to teach me some dance moves when he comes home. We have an end of the year dance coming up and I want to ask Jaylyn and Katie to go with me.” You smiled weakly at her. The boys were all busy with their own things tonight but you nodded along, not wanting to upset her too much before you got home for the night.

“Shall we put on some music or would you like to keep telling me about the dance?” You looked in the mirror at your daughter who pointed to the radio. One of her favourite things to do was listen to music. Something she had gotten from Yoongi. He was a radio jingle maker/ producer on the side which meant he was almost always busy with work.

“Maybe we’ll hear daddy Yoongi’s radio jingle,” You told her with a laugh as you turned up the radio and began your drive home for the night.

Your daughter had something from each of the boys, Yoongi’s love for music, Hoseok passion for dancing. Namjoon’s brain, Jungkook’s ability to be good at literally everything that she set her mind at. Jimin’s duality, Taehyung’s art skills and she took after Jin with her loud rambling in Korean. There was so much of them in her it was hard to believe she was only one of their children.

Once your daughter had finished her homework you allowed her to go and play while you cleaned up the house. It seemed that no matter how much you tidied up it would end up a total mess again. Clothes were strewn about on the top floor where everyone would come home and dump everything they had on. Shoes were piled up at the bottom of the stairs in front of the front door. Somewhat of a safety hazard. The floors seemed to always get dirty no matter how many times a day you cleaned them.

“What do you have planned for dinner?” Was the first question that flew from Jimin’s mouth once he entered the house. Shoes on messing up your freshly moped floors. Staring at him you almost wanted to slap him with the wet part of the mop.

“Jimin! I just moped!” You called out as you sat him leaving dirty shoe prints all over the place, seeming to have no care in the world as he made his way into the kitchen and heading into the pantry.

“Relax. It’s just a bit of mud.” He grumbled as he continued to go through the cupboards for snacks. Dropping different packets onto the floor that he didn't bother to pick up once he came out with what he wanted.

“What did you say you had planned?” He questioned when you began cleaning up the mess he left and then began putting everything you had been using away.

“I didn’t, I don’t have anything planned.” You grumbled as you put the cleaning products away into the kitchen cupboards. Standing back up and looking over at Jimin who shrugged his shoulders.

“Nothing planned?” Jungkook’s voice chimed in as he heard you speaking. By now all of the boys were home and expecting something to eat as if you were the only one that knew how to use the oven.

“Yes, nothing planned because guess what? I’m not the only one that knows how to cook.” You snapped as you glanced at each of their faces. You hadn't meant to snap as nastily as you did but it was getting to be exhausting being the only one that cooked and cleaned everything in the home.

“You’re the only one that has nothing to do all day. You've done nothing, the least you could have done was made dinner,” As soon as the words left Jungkooks lips the air seemed to turn cold and thin. Everyone turned to stare at him as you scoffed at the statement. The only reason you didn't work was that they had convinced you that they earnt enough, there was no need to work because who would look after your daughter all day.

“I did nothing all day?” Your hand rested on your hip as you tilted your head to the side. The boys said nothing leaving Jungkook to dig himself a bigger grave.

“I didn’t mean-”

“I do nothing? So I don’t clean all day, make breakfast and lunch for you, or take our daughter to school..." Jungkook turned pale as he realised how angry he had made you.

"I don't pick her up even though it’s everyone else's turn. I don’t do the laundry, make sure the studies are clean or go food shopping, parent and teacher meetings?” Jungkook was taken back by everything he realised you did. He had no idea that you did so much leaving them to get on with whatever they wanted to do.

“Y/n you’re being dramatic,” Taehyung mumbled as he shook his head, to him this was all easy work. Nothing about what you had said seemed as tiring as you were making it out to be,

“You know what...I don’t even have the energy for this,” You began making your way to the door when you heard Yoongi speak out this time,

“It's not like you work a full-time job, we would help but we work more than you do.” There it was. The "you don't work but we do" line. Something you had been anticipating since the moment they told you that you didn't have to work. Looking at each of their faces you knew from the moment you saw them they agreed with Yoongi.

“So you think being a mother isn’t a full-time job? That everything I do around the house is easy? Oh, please I would love to see you fucking try it for once.” You countered,

“You’re being stupid, they didn't mean it like that." All that you heard fall from Jin's lips was that you were stupid. You stared at him mouth hanging open a little but nothing came out. You just shook your head and stormed out of the room.

Ignoring them all as you stormed up to your bedroom. Normally you would share it with one boy a night, or two if you needed the extra cuddles but right now you needed to be alone. You walked past one of the studies to find your daughter fast asleep holding her barbies. Luckily she was away for the fiasco going on downstairs so you picked her up and carried her to your room. If they saw she was with you they wouldn't bother trying to get into the bed with you.

Days passed by and the boys barely noticed you were giving them the silent treatment. They were all so busy with their jobs that they didn't speak to you. Meanwhile, you played the role of the pretty little housewife that made everything perfect for them while they were away. The house was spotless, your daughter was at school on time and picked up at the same time.

"Darling, go and tell your dad's that dinner is waiting for them." You told her as you set the table for eight. Making sure your daughter's spot was right at the top of the table before putting their plates down and heading up to your room. There were piles of laundry sitting on the bed waiting to be put away.

"Daddy," She called out as she walked into the back garden. They were all working on a new wendy house for her. They were trying to make it bigger than the last one so that everyone could fit into the house for tea parties.

"Yes, sweetie?" Jin called out as she came bounding over to him, jumping into his arms and smiling.

"Mummy told me to tell you that dinner is ready," She looked at all of them and Jungkook clapped loudly.

"Break time!" He chuckled rubbing his hands together and heading into the house.

The dining room was empty and only eight placemats were set at the table.

"Where is mummy?" Namjoon questioned your daughter who was sitting in your usual spot. She simply shrugged her shoulders before eating.

"I haven't seen her much and when I do she's silent which isn't like her," Jin mumbled as he began to eat the food you'd made, everything tasted fantastic like it always did when you cooked for them.

"I tried to speak to her this morning but she ignored me," Jungkook mumbled as he pushed food into his mouth,

"I don't blame her, you were rude on Tuesday." Hoseok reminded him of the day of the fight. That wasn't really a fight more like a disagreement.

"We all were." Namjoon corrected him as they continued to think back on it.

The weekend continued on just like that. You were sending messages to the boys through your daughter using her as a messenger owl while the boys did the same back. Monday morning came around and you were standing outside the school gates with your daughter.

"Mum?" You looked at her as you zipped up her coat, grabbing her bookbag.

"What is it, sweetie?" You questioned as you made sure her hair was perfect and she looked good to go.

"Are you and my daddies going to spilt up?" You looked at her and then over at the school as the bell rang.

"No, we're just having a small fight baby that's all." You whispered as you kissed her forehead. If you tried to explain it now she'd be late for school.

"Go, I promise we'll make up while you're at school." She began rushing off in the direction of her class and you waved goodbye until the doors completely shut and you could head home.

Home where all of the boys were waiting for you. They had collectively decided to take the day off from work so they could get to the bottom of whatever was wrong with you.

"So what's the problem with you?" Jungkook questioned earning a slap around the back of the head from Namjoon who was trying to be the levelheaded one throughout all of this.

"What he means to say is, why are we getting the silent treatment?" Namjoon reiterated the question but in a different manner.

"Let me see...Tuesday night ring a bell?" You questioned as you walked past them and into the kitchen. Beginning to get started with the housework when Hoseok pulled you into a tight hug from behind. Your whole body seemed to melt into his as you missed the contact from each of them.

"We were being idiots, we were tired and irritated with our jobs and we took it out on you." He whispered in your ear as he kept his arms around your tightly never once letting go.

"Let us make it up to you," He whispered again, his breath making your back tingle as you shook your head. Getting away from him as quickly as you could. He knew what his whispers and touching did to you.

"You think I'm just going to forget what you said with a simple, "we were irritated?" Because that's not how it works!" You snapped at them all, glancing over all of their faces to see if they truly meant what they were saying.

"We didn't mean for it to be so mean and we're sorry," Yoongi told you as he stepped closer to you, holding your hand and running his fingers over your knuckles.

"We know how much you do and how hard you work," Jungkook stood up from the sofa and made his way into the kitchen to look at you.

"Now, please...Let us make it up to you." Yoongi told you again as he stepped closer to you. Running his hand up and down your cheek as you relaxed into his touch.

"None of you have actually said sorry except for Yoongi." You moved closer to Yoongi, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck as you giggled.

"So maybe I should only forgive him." You looked at the boys as your lips slowly began to kiss up and down Yoongi's neck, biting down softly right at the nape of his neck. His weakest point.

"No! We're sorry! I'm sorry." Taehyung whined out desperately as he so wanted to have your body on his. It had been so long since any of you had been together intimately it was starting to become too much to be away.

Seven apologies later and you were laid on the bed making out with Yoongi while Namjoon's hands ran down your naked body. Massaging your breasts while his mouth wrapped around the other, sucking and nibbling on your nipple as you let out small moans of pleasure.

"L-Let me touch you," You complained as you reached out to touch Yoongi but he moved your hand away.

"It's about you tonight and only you," Confused by what he meant you went back to kissing him. Your lips moving in sync with one another as he held your face in his hands.

Suddenly you felt Jimin's lips on your core making you cry out at the sudden contact,

"Seems like someone has missed us almost as much as we've missed her." He chuckled as he began to slowly lick stripes up and down your folds, nibbling at your clit whenever he could.

"Jimin!" You whined out, back arching a little as he continued with the slow movements of his tongue which almost had you begging for more.

"Hmm so good," Jimin moans out as he begins to dip his tongue in and out of you. Taking his time as he slowly licks your pussy, tasting every bit of you he can get.

"So fucking good," He growled deeply, your whole body shaking as he continued to lap up your juices. Repeatedly flicking your clit with his tongue causing you to cry out his name, hands buried in his hair as you pushed him closer to your cunt.

"Jimin right there!" You cried out as he inserted two fingers into you, curling them up as he continued to suck on your clit.

Your whole body was on fire as you could feel yourself getting closer to the edge. The curl of his fingers making you moan out, every now and again he would let out growls causing your pussy to clench around his fingers.

"Don't take away all the fun," Yoongi pouted as he took your breast into his mouth, sucking harshly while Namjoon did the same to the other. Your head was spinning so fast you'd forgotten the other boys were in the room.

Watching as you were eaten out so carefully and lovingly.

"J-Jimin!" You warned as you could feel yourself beginning to get closer. The coil in your stomach was beginning to tighten with every bite, lick and thrust from him.

"I-I can't-" You couldn't even finish your sentence before your orgasm ripped through your body. Your eyes shutting tightly as you cried out his name. Hips bucking against his lips begging him not to stop until you rode out your high.

"My turn." Jungkook chuckled as he began to kiss up and down your body. Hands travelling down to your core as he began to rub your already sensitive clit. Each touch felt intensified from your previous orgasm.

"J-Jungkookie," You moaned out as he kissed you sweetly, two fingers rubbing small circles into your core.

"Shh, let us take care of you tonight, it's not about us." Jin's whisper filled your ear as he began to kiss and suck on your neck. Hoseok's hands made their way to your breasts as did Taehyung's. It was going to be a long and very good day.

By the time they were finished with you, you were panting and dripping in sweat...As well as other substances. You'd finally convinced them into letting you please them. Girls couldn't have all of the fun after all. Whining out as you held onto Jin you looked up at him,

"Someone needs to go and pick our little girl up, I don't think I'll be able to walk straight for a week." You laughed softly as Jin helped you into the bathroom. He'd already drawn you a hot bubble bath with a mug of hot chocolate waiting for you.

"I'll go and get her, we can stop by the library before we come home," Namjoon said as he watched you sink into the hot water, eyes rolling back as you finally relaxed.

"I'll come too," Jungkook said as he looked at Namjoon and then at you. Making sure you were okay before they headed out to go and pick up your little girl.

"J-Jin." Your hand reached out to touch him and he turned to look at you.

"Can you come in? I don't want to be alone." You told him, the others had all gone to wash up and you would have been alone.

"Sure." He whispered as he stripped down, getting into the bath behind you and holding you close.

"I really love you guys," You mumbled as you closed your eyes. Listening to nothing but his heart beating against his chest.

"We love you too," He whispered as he began to slowly wash your body off carefully.

Tagline: @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @rjsmochii @sw33tnight @taestannie @sweeneyblue1 @jin-from-the-block @acciocriativity @mwitsmejk @taeechwitaa @justbangtanthingz @stillwithlix

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xxisxxisxxis · 2 years

Text

Gateway Drug | Part Ninety-Six

Words: 3.8k

Warning(s): Explicit language

Tag List: @squiddtheekidd @unknownoblivion @haileynicoleseavey17 @cierrasixx19 @oskea93 @mgkobsessed @sharon6713 @itsametaphorbriansblog @miriampraez @allie-mcginn @rebeccaphillips14 @nicholeh7 @lilmou5ie @emariehorror @floregrohlssard @oldschoolimagineblog @abaldboi @liith-ium @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels @ytwahsog @scarecrowmax @random-internet-user-4471 @solohqrry @sparxx27 @kaitieskidmore1 @cruecifymesixx @gingerspicetalks @fancywasmyname1 @teller258316 @ggorehorror @xrosegoldwolfx @mylifeisjustafeverdream @redlipscrystalskies14 @str4nge-haze @reigns420 @leatherandheels @dogmom2014 @viinceneil

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED

There's heavy air around us, my eyes blurring once in a while with tears as Nikki drives.

Not a word was spoken on the drive to airport, nor on the flight back to L.A.

I know what Nikki's thinking, however, the root of my sadness.

I could see it in his eyes when he saw me leave the bathroom Duff was in.

I blame my high-strung emotions on my pregnancy, trying to remember how happy Duff is right now, praying for the best between him and his new wife.

"Did you have fun?" Nikki's voice interrupts my thoughts, and I'm clearing my throat, sniffling, before I say, "Yeah, I did."

"You sure?" He presses, his jaw tensing a little when I glance at him, the only way I can see his face in the dark is from the lights on the street and the dimly lit buttons of the radio.

"I'm not crying because of that, Nikki." I bite it out harsher than I intend to. "I'm worried about him, that's it."

"I didn't say anything about it." He argues. "But if you wanna start an argument you can. Just keep in mind we no longer have a mediator to talk our shit out to since you told Amber to go burn."

"Oh, please, Nikki." I scoff.

"'Please' what, Viv?" He raises his brows, looking at me.

"I did not tell her to go burn."

"'You can go to hell before I ever step foot in here again'." He quotes me.

"And I called and apologized for saying it." I hiss back. "You're the one not letting it go two months after the fact."

"It doesn't matter because you still refuse to go back. She was helping us."

"She told you not to have sex with me."

"She suggested it, Vivian. And she had a pretty damn good point, and it was something I thought you would agree with me on."

"We're trying to fix our marriage, why the would keeping ourselves at a distance do any good? Huh?"

He lets out a short chuckle that holds no genuine humor.

"Now you know how I felt when you packed up your shit and left me for three months." He says to me.

"That was different, Nikki, and you know it."

"It was different. You're right." He tells me. "You were just being petty back then whereas I'm actually trying, now, and you're making it hard."

"Like how you made it hard for me the entirety of our relationship?" I can't help but shoot back, raising my brows.

"Boy, are you on it tonight, Sixx." He mumbles.

"I think I have every right to be on it, Sixx." I argue, furrowing my brows, raising my voice. "I just wish you would know when to listen to people and when to not listen."

"What's that even supposed to mean?" Green eyes cut at me, my lips rubbing together.

"We'd be in a better place in our relationship by now if you wouldn't have paid her any mind. But instead you listened to her bullshit about taking things slow."

"And you thought telling her to go to hell would change my mind about it?!" He barks out, a hint of the old Nikki in his voice.

I don't say a word back.

"You just need to go home and pray or something, Vivian, because the way you've been the past couple weeks..."

"...The way I've been?"

He goes quiet, shaking his head slightly as if holding back.

"What 'way' have I been, Nikki?"

"Bitter. Resentful. Pissed off. And you've been taking it out on anyone that's around you. I'm trying to get better and be better and you're doing everything you can to try to get in the way of that." He snaps at me.

"Maybe there's a reason I've been acting that way." I say in the same tone.

"Yeah, it's because you fired the woman who was helping you deal with all that."

"'All that' being a mix of emotions I wouldn't have had it not been for you screwing our marriage up."

"She says as she's sitting next to her husband knocked up as fuck with another man's kid."

"Stop the car." I say, unbuckling.

"No."

"Nikki, stop the car."

"Vivian, we're on the freaking highway. No." He refuses, ignoring my request.

"Let. Me. Out."

"What're you gonna do? Open the door?"

The two of us look at one another, my brow raising.

"Open it and see what happens." He dares me.

Long gone is our mature, new selves, old habits resurfacing in the form of our old arguments — as petty as they are — and I'm reaching for the handle of the door before he's slamming on the brakes, simultaneously pulling over to the side of the road.

"Are you fucking crazy, Vivian?!" He yells at me as if I actually opened the door speeding down the road.

Once we stop I do shove the door open, getting out, needing some fresh air.

The door slams as he gets out as well, giving me time to get another look at him when he's not half-way dressed up.

T-shirt and black jeans and boots, his once teased hair is now beginning to be more relaxed.

It was never teased in rehab, I don't think he had the care for it to be anymore — a way of completely trying to shed his "Nikki Sixx" persona that had gotten him into the shit hole to begin with.

"Get back in the car, Viv." He says it to me impatiently, and it doesn't sound the least bit inviting.

"No."

"It's nearly one in the morning. I gotta get you home so I can go home." He adds, sighing out. "Me and the guys have got a meeting tomorrow, remember?"

"You go home, then, and I'll find a phone somewhere and get my dad to come pick me up." I cross my arms.

"He'll kick my ass. No. I'm not leaving you out here to get snatched up by sickos." He states. "Even though I'm sure they'd give you right back." He adds, scoffing, glancing at the cars zooming by us on the road before he's turning back to me, the two of us staring at one another.

I see the faintest pull of his lips, his dimple showing for a second before he's forcing it away.

This makes me force back a smile, and when the two of us notice this we both can't help but to crack up.

"You've got me on the side of the road at 1:00am." He tells me, raising his brows, finally letting his smile show.

"Maybe I have been a handful lately." I admit, rubbing my forehead.

"You've been a handful since '81, baby." He steps back to the car and I can't help but blush when he calls me "baby," being that I haven't heard any term of endearment from him since I got rid of Amber.

"You haven't been a walk in the park, either, Nikki." I also walk back to the car, crossing my arms, taking a deep breath.

"Because I've known I could get away with it." He confesses, rubbing his lips together. "I guess it's just been a harsh wake up call to see that I can't get away with anything anymore...not with you, at least."

"Sorry for the inconvenience." I mumble.

"It's not an inconvenience." He shakes his head. "It's a good thing. Used to it was only Doc or Bob or anybody else over us that could get a good enough hold on me to bend to what they wanted me to do — even the smallest amount — but this whole thing has reminded me the only person that matters at the end of all of this is my wife." He adds. "That's how it should've always been. And I'm sorry for that."

"It was my fault. I let it go on for so long, like a dingbat."

"You didn't know any better." He defends me. "And how could you have? I kinda sprung everything on you all at once. We all did."

"I don't think we should've been together so soon." The words pull his attention to me. "You should've been able to do what you wanted with who you wanted with no commitments. I screwed that up for you for a long time."

"I wanted to marry you." He reminds me. "I shouldn't have done that just to put you through hell for four years straight."

"No, you shouldn't have." I agree with him. "But I just wanted you, Nikki. That's all I've wanted. Even after everything that's happened. Maybe I've been so bitter lately because anyone in their right mind would just let you go and free themselves, and I'm angry because I can't do that."

"Do you want to do that?" He questions me.

"No. And that's why I'm angry." It's the first time I've admitted it out loud.

"So, what do we do, now, Vivian?" He asks me.

"You take me home, go to your meeting tomorrow with the guys, figure out what Mötley's gonna do next while I try to figure out what I'm gonna do next aside from deliver a baby in four months." I swallow the lump that's attempting to form in my throat. "And maybe, eventually, we can meet back in the middle somewhere and do this the right way. How we should've done it to begin with."

It takes him a second to think about it, contemplating arguing with me or accepting it.

"How long is this gonna take, exactly?" Is what he asks me.

"However long it takes. If we're actually gonna do this I can't just go back to being 'Nikki Sixx's wife,' especially now that I'm also being labeled, 'the whore Duff McKagan knocked up'."

"Do you think that?" He asks me, referring to being accused of being a whore.

"Do you?"

"I know better than to think that." He denies with a strong reassurance in his voice. "And people who do think that are morons."

It's quiet another moment, and I take a breath out before meeting his green eyes once again.

"We got this." I say to him in hopes it'll encourage him to continue on the right track with his sobriety and eventually our marriage.

"We do." He nods a little. "We'll have it even more if you get back in the car so we can get home and get some sleep."

My smile returns before I'm opening the door and getting back in.

The next two months is a complete whirlwind.

Mötley Crüe was sued for an incident that occurred at a show in '85 after a fan got hit in the face with something that took out his eye, so Nikki was gone for a week in court acting as a representative for the band.

We found out the reason Tansy and Axl were almost late for Duff's wedding was because they had gotten married in Vegas. I'll spare you the picture montage of their weekend wedding and honeymoon with Elvis' "Burning Love" blaring, but I wasn't entirely against seeing the front page of the gossip magazine with Tansy all done up in the same pink, short, sequined dress she wore to Duff's wedding, paired with an over the top veil, perched on Axl's right shoulder, her right hand interlocking with his to hold her balance while her left hand is reached out to the camera to show off her new ring, a smile stretching on her face from ear to ear. She was in the best shape she had been in, completely sober from all alcohol and drugs, she was healthy and genuinely happy. If Axl amplified that happiness then I couldn't be mad.

By July, Tom Zutaut was basically in a verbal fist fight with MTV constantly, trying to get them to finally air the video for Welcome to the Jungle that Guns N' Roses had filmed back in February. Apparently John Malone didn't want Satan music blaring into the chunk of cable houses he owned at the time that MTV broadcasted across, and threatened to take the channel off his cable networks if they dared to display the "junkie, rock band" on their programming.

It hadn't surprised me to hear this, conservative skepticism tearing into Rock N' Roll was inevitable, but what I hadn't anticipated was what came of it.

"...They're gonna play them once, Viv, that's the best they can do and if it doesn't go anywhere Geffen wants to pull the plug on them entirely." Tom Zutaut's worried voice says to me while I hold the phone to my ear, folding towels.

"They can't do that." I state, furrowing my brows.

"Apparently they can. The album's only sold about 200,000 units and it's been out a year. They wanna cut their losses unless we can get Guns on the map."

"Well, when they play the video on MTV it'll get more peoples attention." I attempt to stay optimistic.

"That's the thing, though, Vivian, they gave us a shit spot." He sighs out. "They're gonna play the video at 4:00am in Newyork, 1:00am our time this Sunday night."

"That's the best they could do?!" I snap, dropping my laundry, beginning to pace.

"That's all they would give."

It's quiet between us.

"Do the guys know, yet?"

"A part of me doesn't even wanna tell them. It'll get their hopes up and the chances of it taking off like it should are slim to none with the time MTV will be playing the video." He admits. "I can't let these guys be nobodies, Viv. The world's gotta fuckin' hear them."

"Completely agree, Tom, but I don't know—"

"Viv, come look!" Sharise's voice grabs my attention when she pokes her head in the back door, seeing me where I'm standing in the living room.

"Gimme a second, Tom." I say to him as I walk over to her.

She steps aside and I see Skylar standing on the edge of the pool in her butterfly swimsuit, with her floaties off.

"Alright, Sky, show Viv!" Sharise encourages her.

She looks back at me to see if I'm watching her or not and when she sees that I am she's all smiles.

"Watch this!" She shouts.

"I'm watching!" I assure her, giving her a thumbs up.

She jumps into the shallow water, taking a moment before she's coming right back up.

I know she can't completely touch down in that pool, yet, so she must be swimming without the help of being able to reach the pool floor with her feet.

"Yay!" Sharise and I are screaming as Skylar's triumphantly hollering, "I did it, I did it!"

Sharise makes her way to the edge of the pool, pulling Sky up into her arms, the two of them dripping water onto the concrete while I grab the towels I had set aside for them.

"I'm back, Tom," I say as Sharise puts Skylar down beside me. "I don't know what else to do about it." I start again as I help Sky dry off before wrapping the towel around her.

"I talked to David Geffen and that was the best he could do for the guys." He finishes what he was saying to me earlier as I kiss Sky's cheek, bringing a smile to her face.

"Awesome job, Sister-Friend." I tell her, holding my hand up and she gives me a high-five.

"Um, I-thanks." Tom stutters on the other end of the phone.

"Let's go get a shower, big girl, and then we'll see if we can't convince Viv to let me cook something." Sharise is kissing Sky's wet hair.

"So, they don't know?" I ask again as we head back inside.

Sharise takes Skylar to my bathroom to get cleaned up while I head to the living room to finish laundry.

"No, I'm gonna call and tell them individually when I get off the phone with you." He informs me. "Though I might get Tansy to break the news to Axl. He's the one I'm worried about the most finding out."

"If he's pissed off, he's got a good reason to be. They all do."

"Oh, I'm fully expecting them to riot, I assure you." He chuckles. "Let's just hope all this pays off."

"It'll work out, one way or another, Tom...it might have a higher chance of working out if you pray on it."

This brings a full laugh from him.

"I'm not so sure God would approve of me asking him to let the world be exposed to Guns N' Roses." He states.

"God's not a stick in the mud, Tom, that's just how people like my mother have made him out to be." I giggle at his laughter.

"Well, I'm about to call the guys up and tell them what's going on." He says to me. "Unless you want to?"

He offers it up on a silver platter and I scoff.

"C'mon, Viv, take one off my hands."

"Slash. He'll probably be too drunk to care, anyway."

"Izzy." He denies my request.

"Steven."

"Duff. Take it or leave it."

"I can't tell Duff." I shake my head. "I'll tell Izzy, he can tell Steven, and he'll tell Slash. Duff and Axl are all yours." It's my final offer.

"You drive a hard deal, Sixx." He sighs out, thinking on it for a moment.

"I could just not tell any of them and let you do it on your own...being the one who discovered them, anyway..."

"...Axl and Duff it is."

"Good talk." I poke at him.

"Good talk, Viv. Later."

We hang up and I'm dialing Izzy's number.

"...So, what the fuck does that mean?" He asks me once I've explained the situation to him.

"It means that your guys' only hope right now is placed in MTV's bullshit attempt of playing the video at the time their channel is the most dead of viewers the entire week." I say, running a hand through my hair. "But, all hope isn't lost. There's still a chance."

"A snowball's chance in hell, Viv." He pipes, irritated.

"But it's still a chance." I remind him. "Better than nothing, at that."

The line is silent and I lean against the kitchen counter.

"Hey, Izz?"

"Yeah?"

"It's gonna work out. Even if Mötley has to take Guns back on the road with them — "

" — Right, because the last time that happened turned out so good for all of us." He mumbles.

I hear him take a drag of his cigarette.

"It might turn out a lot better since I'm not screwing your bassist anymore." I shrug.

"You're not even screwing Mötley's bassist anymore, either, so that completely cancels out any good not screwing ours would do."

"You're a real asshole, you know that?" I fumble with the phone chord.

"I have to be, or else the confusing sexual tension between us fizzles out." He replies with a sarcastic drip to his words.

"Alright, Casanova, I gotta go. Pass the message along to Stevie and Slash, please. Tom's calling Duff and Axl up."

"Okay." He yawns. "See ya."

"See ya." I hang up, leaning against the wall and taking in a hefty breath before vomit hits the floor at my feet, the tears streaming down my face falling to land in the pile of my lunch.

I quickly head to the kitchen for paper towels, wiping my mouth and swishing some water around before spitting it down the sink.

Grabbing a bottle of cleaner and gloves from under the sink, I’m heading to the pile as promptly as I can to get it up before Skylar gets out of the bath and starts running around.

I started just in time because as I bend down, she’s running from the bathroom in her new Carebear pajama’s as Sharise chases after her.

“Sky, I gotta finish brushing your hair!” She pleads, and I’m making a point to guard the mess so neither of them step in it.

In the midst of doing so, the phone starts ringing once again and I’m cursing under my breath, unable to answer it at the moment.

“Sharise, can you get that?!” I call to her as I head to the trash can to throw out the dirty paper towels.

I’m not sure if she hears me until the phone clicks off the hook and I take a breath before turning the corner and see her standing back from my cleaning area, the phone in one hand while she holds a Mini Mouse hairbrush in the other.

“Hello?” She answers as I put on a new pair of gloves and start spraying the floor where my vomit was. “Yes, who is speaking?”

I’m crouched beside her when I hear her stumble on her words as she says, “U-Um, yeah, let me go grab her real quick.”

She nudges me with her leg frantically and I look up.

“What?” I ask, furrowing my brows.

“It’s Eddie Van Halen.” She replies.

“What?!” I nearly fall back.

“Shhh! Take it, he’s still on the line!” She whisper yells, offering me the phone she’s still got covered with her hand.

“No!” I shake my head, keeping my voice quiet.

“What do you mean, ‘no,’ it’s Eddie. Van. Halen!” She argues.

“Mom!” Sky shouts from the spare bedroom she’s staying in.

“I gotta see what she wants, take it.” Sharise orders lowly, trying to hand me the phone but I drop it.

“Vivian!” She scolds me silently, horrified by the uncovered receiver. “He can hear you!” She mouths to me, pointing.

“Hang up!” I mouth back and she shakes her head and picks the phone up saying, “here she is,” forcing it into my hand.

My eyes are probably the size of bowling balls right now, and I can’t even bring words to come from my mouth.

“Hello?” His voice rings in my ear and I let out a squeak and hang up before I can stop myself.

Sharise and I stare at one another for a moment, in shock.

“Eddie Van Halen just called me.” I say.

“You just hung up on Eddie Van Halen.” She tells me.

“I just hung up on Eddie Van Halen.” I repeat as it settles in. “Do you think he’ll call back?” I ask cautiously.

As if on cue, the phone rings once again, and continues to ring, and ring, and ring, until Sharise once again answers it.

“Hello?”

I anxiously wait as she offers me the phone.

“It’s Nikki.” She says, disappointed, before she goes to see what Skylar wanted before I’m letting out a breath of relief and say, “Hello?”

I learn it’s very much not Nikki as I hear:

“Hey, Vivian, it’s Eddie.”

#nikki sixx #mötley crüe #nikki sixx x oc #nikki sixx fanfiction #gateway drug #sorry it’s taken so long to post this btw #I’m working on getting a new computer and also got sick and thought it was rona🥴

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cinnaminsvga · 4 years

Text

a love that endures | Yoongi

→ summary:

“Oh come on! Just go say hi to him already,” Seokjin huffs. He wiggles his eyebrows, striking you with the urge to shave them off in retaliation. “I could feel your ‘God, I miss his dick’ vibes from across the room!”

“I do not emit dick thirst vibes,” you respond hotly, swatting him in the tit. You pause, considering. “Wait, but do you think he misses my p—”

“Say no more,” Seokjin interrupts, a wicked smirk gracing his lips. His gaze is fixed somewhere behind you, but you have a sinking suspicion you know why he looks like he’s won the lottery. “Speaking of the devil, look who’s coming over to say hello!”

{or alternatively: Yoongi and Y/N. Y/N and Yoongi. High school sweethearts that were never meant to last, until a reunion ten years later manages to reignite a flame that never quite burnt out.}

→ genre: high school reunion!au, exes to lovers, fluff, humor, minor angst → warnings: shy!yoongi and shy!oc live rent free in my brain, mutual pining is poggers, hoseok and seokjin aren’t evil for once in a cinnaminsvga fic, implied smut so it’s pg-13 because i’m a wimp → words: 14.4K → a/n: SHE’S ALIVE!! this is dedicated to @himbeaux-joon who commissioned this piece ages ago. thank you again for requesting this because this was honestly so much fun to write. i’ve been in a bit of writing slump these past few weeks but this fic came out so easily and got way longer than expected (perhaps because it’s about yoongi and he’s always been the easiest one to write for me). enjoy!! ;o;

The mere sight of him is enough to knock the wind out of you.

Your body freezes, the hand curled around your paper cup filled with punch tightening ever so slightly. It isn’t like you’re surprised that he came; you aren’t supposed to be. Of course, you should have expected his arrival, but you’ve been hoping all night that he might have been too busy to attend.

He isn’t even on time—it has almost been two hours since the event started and you had been filled with a false hope that perhaps he had RSVP’d and decided he couldn’t make it.

You had seen Hoseok, his best friend from your younger days, standing outside the entrance of the ballroom before they had started letting people in. The moment Hoseok saw you, he immediately came over to sweep you into a tight hug, his infectious laughter ringing in your ears. He had greeted you happily, expressing how much he missed you since high school, but never once bringing up the elephant in the room.

It wasn’t like you were going to bring him up first. No, that would be weird on your part. Nevermind the fact that going to high school reunions was a recipe for reliving past traumas and seeing all your childhood friends either married or pregnant—you weren’t going to be that person who asked where their ex was. You refused to be the person craning their neck to spy on the entrance every two minutes, hoping to catch sight of an old familiar face.

The problem is that you are that person, and you kind of hate yourself for it. However, it is also the reason why you are probably the only person in the entire ballroom who notices his quiet arrival.

He has never liked causing commotions, which is often apparent from the way he conducts himself. He walks into the room just as a loud round of applause breaks out; an old schoolmate of yours is walking up to the podium, probably the person who had arranged the get-together in the first place. It is a perfect distraction for him as he slinks past the door, keeping near the wall so as not to be seen by anyone just yet.

(Except he has been seen—he just doesn’t know it yet.)

You do not know for how long you stare at him, just that it takes you a moment to realize you haven’t taken a breath since he stepped foot into the same space as you. You take a deep, shuddering breath, forcing your racing heartbeat to calm down. You swallow thickly, throat so unbearably dry that even drinking from your lukewarm cup of punch doesn’t seem to do anything.

But the undeniable truth is there, standing only a few meters away from you, and nothing on earth will be able to wash away the nerves flooding through your system.

After ten years of radio silence, Min Yoongi is in your orbit once again.

In the grand scheme of things, ten years wasn’t all that long. Four years in university had passed by in a blur, and the absolute chaos that ensued right after you graduated as you scrambled to secure a job and move out of your hometown had made the days seem shorter than they actually were. You had not even noticed that time was passing until you found that cream envelope waiting for you one day after work, your alma mater’s school crest painfully recognizable even after all these years.

During all that time, the world around you shifted without you noticing, and that meant people were changing too.

Yoongi is 28 now. And so are you, after many months of denial. You have not seen each other since you were both 18—both of you far too young to know about any of the things you would experience in the next ten years.

He might have grown a little taller since then, something you are sure that your brother will find amusing. His hair isn’t dyed like you remembered, as he has opted to keep it his natural dark black that you have not seen since you were both in middle school. It’s styled differently too: combed over and gelled back, with his bangs pushed back and his forehead exposed. When he turns his head to the side, a gasp spills past your lips before you can stop it.

“Is that a fucking undercut?” you mutter in shock, your eyes straining out of their sockets as you try to drink him in. Even under the dim lighting of the ballroom, his new haircut is hard to miss. No one else seems to be undergoing the same mental collapse as you, judging by how everyone’s attention is still fixated on the person speaking at the podium. How the hell is no one else losing their fucking minds to the sight of Min Yoongi with a fucking undercut? Some questions are impossible to answer, you surmise.

When you decided to attend the reunion, you had not once thought about how Yoongi would look like. Somehow, you had developed this stagnant picture of him in your head, even after all these years. To you, he will always be the boy with the stark blonde hair, the mismatched eyelids, the pouty lips, the dumpling cheeks. He is the boy who can’t wear his own contact lenses to save his life, the boy who sometimes wears his favorite leather jacket to sleep, the boy who only drinks Americanos like it was water.

Gone are those days, you realize. That image of him has been smashed to pieces, instead replaced by this dashing (and incredibly hot) man—a stranger. A stranger with unbleached (and healthy) hair, a jawline sharp enough to cut glass. He has his glasses kept away, and there is no leather jacket in sight.

But you can see him, if you look hard enough. The same spark in his eye, the same curve of his lips. You catch him smiling for a second, and his cheeks still puff up like dough. Maybe it’s just hopeless thinking, but you see him. It’s still him. To you, he will always be your 18-year-old Min Yoongi, the one who would greet you with a sweet kiss on the forehead every time you would—

Raucous applause breaks you from your train of thought, and you blink rapidly in surprise. You have to forcibly pull yourself out of your Yoongi-induced trance, clapping alongside everyone without really knowing what was going on. All of the extra noise sounds like buzzing in your ears, especially when it is drowned out by the roar of your blood rushing to your head all at once.

“Once again, I’d like to thank you all for coming tonight. We will begin the program right after dinner, so please feel free to help yourselves to the buffet! Cheers everyone!” You faintly hear your old schoolmate speak, before her voice is quickly overrun by the commotion of people walking over to the extravagant display of food. It takes a moment for the crowd of heads to disperse, so when you can finally look back to where you last saw Yoongi, he is no longer alone.

Hoseok has his arm slung around Yoongi, his infectious laughter loud enough to be heard over clinking plates and silverware. The two are as different as night and day, with Hoseok practically bouncing from excitement and Yoongi rolling his eyes from annoyance. But it is easy to see that his pout is nothing but a ruse; you can already catch the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips.

You feel your own seams breaking, unwittingly sporting a grin of your own. It is nice to know that Yoongi hasn’t been alone all this time, that he still seems close with his old best friend. You cannot count the number of friendships that you have lost over time, and you still grieve many of them during your quiet moments. Alas, it was often never even anyone’s fault, the strains of adulthood often being the biggest deal breakers in your relationships.

That is, of course, except for one.

“Enjoying yourself? I didn’t think we’d share the same voyeuristic tendencies,” says a voice, creeping up behind you. Now, normal people would not usually expect other sane people to invade your personal space and breathe directly into your ear, but that’s just your humble opinion. What you do know is that one certain individual enjoys breaking the mold when it comes to societal norms, and it is none other than…

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You shriek, nearly sucker-punching the offending degenerate in the face. You hold back your fist from connecting with his face, but your resulting irritation remains. Whether that irritation is because you regret holding back or not will unfortunately also have to remain unanswered. “Oh God, it’s you.”

“Oh, no need for that. Most people usually call me Seokjin,” he snickers, thoroughly enjoying your flushed face. Kim Seokjin pats you on the shoulder, his trademark “pretty boy” smile still as radiant as you remembered. It does nothing to quell your urge to raise your fists again, however. “Hello, Y/N. Fancy seeing you here!”

“The feeling is not mutual,” you snort. Much like how Yoongi was with Hoseok, your derision is nothing but a rouse. As much as you want to kick Seokjin in the nuts, you also cannot ignore how much you want to hug him the slimy bastard—but you definitely will not be the first one to admit it. So like the tsundere that you are, you decide to insult him instead. “Why are you here? You’re not even from this class. Don’t you have other things to do? Or rather, people to do?”

“My heart! You wound me,” he gasps, grasping his chest as though he’d been shot. “How could you say that to your best friend in the entire world? Don’t you know how much I missed you?”

“Easy. I do it because the only other alternative would lead me straight to prison,” you shrug, but your grin betrays you.

This time, you don’t jolt away when he closes in for a hug. “And I guess I miss you too,” you say, your words slightly muffled into his chest. Like always, he sees through your prickly act because as much as you like to pretend, Kim Seokjin is kind of amazing—loose bolts and all.

“It’s nice to know that your tongue hasn’t lost its edge, though I suppose I wouldn’t be intimately knowledgeable in that area. After all, I still am very much a raging homosexual and pussy isn’t really my forte,” Seokjin guffaws, his volume causing a few nearby guests to raise their heads in alarm.

You bow at them, sheepishly apologizing on his behalf before grabbing him by the collar.

“Will you stop being embarrassing for just one second? I swear, I thought I retired from my babysitting job when I graduated high school,” you hiss, but the way his mouth curls up with mischief is answer enough. God, you missed this son of a bitch.

“Unfortunately for you, being a pest is part of my DNA,” he smirks, carefully plucking your hands off from his neck, as though your nails were not mere inches away from ripping his trachea into pieces. “Though, I am offended by your assumption that I am still the same slut that you knew. I’ve grown up a little, you know! I’m a changed man!”

“Oh, please. Don’t tell me you of all people have settled down,” you laugh, not missing the way Seokjin’s perfectly stenciled brow raises slightly.

“I know we haven’t seen each other since Christmas, but come on Y/N! You of all people should be applauding me for my improved behavior! You must have noticed how much I changed when I visited.”

“When you visited me last Christmas, you immediately insulted my taste in kitchen towels, went on Grindr to find a hookup despite my numerous pleas, and promptly desecrated my guest bedroom that no housekeeper or priest is willing to exorcise to this day,” you gag, shuddering at the memory. “And then you ate all my ice cream and proceeded to clog my toilet!”

“Um? Aren’t you forgetting that I also bought you that dress you wanted? Rude,” Seokjin retorts, not the least bit remorseful. “Well, that’s what you get for agreeing to be my best bitch for life. You know that I take pinky promises very seriously.”

Unfortunately, he does take his promises seriously. It is probably the only thing he’ll ever be serious about, as much as the man enjoys parading his depravity. “Okay, whatever. I’ll bite. Who’s the unlucky man you’ve managed to deceive into a relationship?”

“Oh, it’s someone we both used to know. I’m his plus one for tonight,” he says, supplying you with the most useless non-answer imaginable.

“Seokjin. We’re at a high school reunion. We know everyone here. That could be anyone!” you exclaim.

“Well, isn’t that fun? Then we can do a scavenger hunt!” Seokjin grins, clapping his hands together excitedly. He pulls you in front of him, forcing the two of you to survey the crowd. “Okay, hold your arm out like this—” After a few seconds of you failing to resist him, he manages to get you to unfurl your finger as if you were about to order something from the dollar menu at McDonalds. Unfortunately for you, the tall twink is stronger than he appears. “—and just keep pointing around until I tell you that you’re getting warmer!”

“Seokjin, I don’t think this is very—” you start, but Seokjin is already moving your arm for you. Like a hurricane, Kim Seokjin listens to no one but his own homewrecking whims.

“Park Chanyeol? Close, but not really. You should know that I don’t double dip with past flings,” he says, shifting you to the left. “Kim Namjoon? Now that’s a hunk of meat that I wish I’d taken a bite of, but unfortunately he’s as straight as a ruler. Pass,” he hums, continuing to move you bit by bit.

You’re both getting uncomfortably close to where Yoongi is, and Seokjin doesn’t appear to be stopping any time soon. You did notice that Yoongi had come dateless to the reunion (a fact, by the way, that you did not rejoice over when you had noticed), but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s single. You have known Seokjin for more than a decade at this point, and despite your odd friendship, you are sure that he would never do anything to hurt you on purpose.

Though, that does beg the question… How far does his dick thirst really go? Maybe you’ll finally find out today.

“Warmer, getting warmer…” Seokjin inches you closer and closer to where Yoongi is standing. You feel frozen in his grasp, unsure if you wanted to know anymore. If Seokjin really is dating Yoongi, then what? It’s not like you were dating him anyway… What difference does it make if it’s Seokjin?

(It makes all the difference, but you refuse to think about it.)

“Nope, not Wonho... A little bit to the left… Bingo!” Seokjin declares, stopping your finger right on— “No, Y/N! Stop moving! You’ve gone too far to the wall! I was pointing at him.”

“H-Hoseok? You’re dating Hoseok?!” You squeak, an avalanche of relief flooding through you. You don’t even have the energy to pretend to be composed as your entire body starts untensing involuntarily, your shoulders slumping as though a weight has been lifted from you. “Why couldn’t you have just told me like a normal person? Why must everything be tortuous and dramatic when it comes to you?”

“I am a naturally insufferable and theatrical person. Sue me,” he shrugs, greatly enjoying the exhausted look on your face. “What? Were you actually scared that I was dating your sloppy seconds? What do you think I am? An asshole?”

You stare at him. “Is that a rhetorical question?”

Seokjin scoffs. “If I wanted to get roasted, I would approach two tops at a gay bar.” He pauses. “Wait, are you seriously not going to congratulate me for finally snagging a boy who has a functioning moral compass?”

“Define ‘snagging.’ Did you, like, tie him up and blackmail him to become your boyfriend like those terrible One Direction Wattpad fanfics, or—” You stop halfway, giggling at your friend’s unamused pout. “Okay, okay. Yes, Seokjin. I am very proud of you. Congrats on finally becoming an adult. Your hoe days are over.”

“Who said they were over?” He snorts. Noticing your alarm, Seokjin rolls his eyes in exasperation. “Oh, don’t give me that look! I’m not into infidelity and you know that. I just meant that I’m still a hoe with significantly fewer options.”

“How did that even happen in the first place?” you say, jabbing your thumb in Hoseok’s direction. Thankfully, the man in question is still busy talking to Yoongi, though you don’t know for how much longer. If Seokjin isn’t lying, then there’s a high chance they’re going to walk over to say hi and you’re not sure if you’re mentally prepared to go through the five stages of grief all over again.

“Believe me, I’m surprised as well. I started dating Hoseok after he asked me for help with his sister’s wedding gift. He asked me to help arrange an itinerary for her sister’s honeymoon in America,” Seokjin explains with a dreamy smile. He sighs, holding a hand up to his chest. You can physically see the heart emojis circling his head like a halo. “We hit it off from there and dare I say… Not only is he the only person who can keep up with my high maintenance lifestyle, but dear Lord, he could totally be recruited into the NDA for his astounding dick game—”

“Ever heard of TMI? Gross,” you interrupt, your face crumpling in disgust. You shove him away when his loud cackles start rattling your eardrums.

“You were scared though, right?” he says through his giggles. “When you thought that I was dating Yoongi?”

Of course Seokjin had noticed your mini-mental breakdown, judging from the shit-eating grin on his face.

“N-no,” you stutter, but your heated cheeks and averted gaze give you away. “E-either way, I wouldn’t have cared if you did!” you say. You know, like a liar.

“I bet you don’t care that Yoongi got significantly hotter in the past ten years too, huh?” Seokjin teases, snickering loudly. Under the harsh lighting of the fluorescent chandelier lights, you might have mistaken the boy in front of you for the devil instead of your best friend of almost twenty years.

“I sincerely rue the day I introduced myself to you in the third grade,” you hiss, sipping from your cup to hide your humiliation.

“Aww, you’re so cute when you’re all embarrassed,” Seokjin coos, pinching your cheeks with the gentleness of an ape. You slap his hand away, unable to think of any retort.

“Cat got your tongue? You didn’t even deny it when I accused you,” Seokjin laughs. He claps his hands jovially, acting as though he’s enjoying a show at the circus. Given your performance tonight, that statement isn’t all that far from reality.

“I don’t need to defend myself from you,” you say, puffing your cheeks indignantly. “I just… think he looks handsome. Is that illegal or something?”

“Certainly not. Though, you might want to dial down the pining a teensy bit,” he singsongs. “That’s how I found you in the first place. I sensed your pining from a mile away and came as soon as I could!”

“I wasn’t pining!” you exclaim. “I was just… admiring the plant beside him.”

“Right, sure,” Seokjin says, arching an eyebrow in challenge. You feel your hackles rising at his smug expression, your ‘Seokjin-is-about-to-ruin-your-life’ alarm ringing in your ears. “So, you wouldn’t mind if I brought you over there to say hello? After all, my boyfriend is over there and as much as I enjoy pestering you, I also want to be with him very much.”

You whistle lowly, impressed. “Wow, that’s actually kind of sweet of you.”

“Yes, I know. Kim Seokjin’s heart grew three sizes that day, yada yada yada.” Seokjin says sarcastically, but his lovesick smile ruins the effect. When he opens his mouth once more, the mirage instantly disappears. “But you would understand if you saw how much he’s packing—”

“Shut up, I didn’t ask—”

“Fine, then let’s ask the man himself! Besides, you know you’re being ridiculous, right?” Seokjin tuts, annoyed. He fixes you with a glare, making you feel like a scolded child. “It’s just Yoongi. You and I both know he doesn’t have a mean bone in his body and probably would love to see you after so long.”

You wave your hands around helplessly, almost sloshing your drink onto a nearby bystander. After muttering a meek apology at your harried classmate, you turn back to Seokjin with a defeated sigh.

You know that he’s right, and you absolutely hate him for it. “Jinnie, I’m a mess! I can hardly think with Yoongi standing meters away from me, much less if he were to stand right in front of me! I’m just going to embarrass myself,” you lament, holding your head in your hand.

“That’s true. You will definitely embarrass yourself,” Seokjin hums, nodding sagely. He shrugs his shoulders. “All the more reason we should do it. Relax, I’ll be your wingman like old times! All we have to do is remind him of all the fantastic, mind-blowing coitus you had in your youth and he’ll be a goner for sure.”

“If by goner, you mean he’ll be gone from my life permanently this time, then you’re right,” you groan. You have a half a mind to dump the remainder of your disgusting punch all over his expensive Bottega Veneta coat, though you also don’t want to spend the next three months receiving packaged turds from Seokjin in your mailbox. “Please, just let me suffer in silence for the remainder of the night, okay? Is that really too much to ask?”

“I do not emit dick thirst vibes,” you respond hotly, swatting him in the tit. You pause, considering. “Wait, but do you think he misses my p—”

Swiveling around, you see that your intuition is right: Yoongi and Hoseok are swiftly making their way through the crowd, one of them appearing to be more enthusiastic than the other. You swallow thickly, your palms growing damp as they get closer to where the two of you stand.

"Seokjin, we gotta go!" you hiss, but your panic goes largely ignored as your best friend leaves you to envelop his lover in a dramatic embrace.

The two men exchange teary and heartfelt touches, acting as if they had been separated by years of war instead of the meager minutes they had spent apart to greet their long-time friends.

"My honeybunch! Oh, how I've missed you so much!" Seokjin cries, nuzzling his nose into Hoseok's neck. You might have mistaken him for a vampire with how aggressively he sniffs Hoseok's skin. Had Seokjin been 5% more unhinged, you do not doubt that he might have started suckling on his boyfriend like a leech.

"Oh, hyung. It's barely been an hour, but why does it feel like it has been forever?" Hoseok sighs forlornly, jaw clenching as though he's in pain. He croaks out a sob, lifting Seokjin in the air and spinning him around. "My love, let us never part again!"

You take a few steps away from them, trying to make it apparent to all the bewildered onlookers that you have nothing to do with homosexual Tweedledee and Tweedledum.

"What kind of shitty production is this? I want my money back," you murmur, fake-gagging behind the two of them. The lovesick fools pay no mind to your disgust; in fact, they seem to relish in it. Their efforts double, their theatrical kissy-smoochy sound effects causing goosebumps to form on your arms. "Seriously, I've had enough of this and I've only been forced to witness it for two seconds."

"Tell me about it," says a voice to your left. Startled, you nearly let out a shocked gasp when you realize that Yoongi had found his way by your side, his own disgusted gaze fixed on the bumbling buffoons still lost in their world. He glances at you for a second, quirking his lips into a small smile. "Hey, Y/N."

In just six words, Min Yoongi manages to make time grind to a halt. You gape at him, your brain ceasing in function. It takes you a full minute to realize that the man standing beside you is not a figment of your imagination. You had been so caught up in the absurdity of the situation that for a moment you had forgotten that Yoongi is a real person.

It's Yoongi, your first love. The person you haven't seen or spoken to in years. The man who has haunted your dreams for over a decade. He's standing right beside you, and he's smiling at you. He's here, he's hot, and he's saying hello.

Like the incredibly eloquent and profound person that you are, you reply: "Yellow!"

You had meant to say "Yoongi, hello!" like a normal person, but your brain had amalgamated your words during its rebooting process. And so, you are left standing there silently, frozen by your embarrassment. You swear you can hear a pin drop as you beg for the earth to swallow you whole.

Unfortunately for you, the floor remains painfully tangible beneath your feet, forcing you to clear your throat and expound on your mystifying exclamation. Yoongi watches you with curious eyes, patiently waiting for you to speak.

"W-what I meant to say is, uh," you stammer, your cheeks heating up to an alarming degree. "Those yellow streamers are pretty tacky, don't you think?"

Nice one. In terms of comebacks, you would personally give yourself a C for effort. (Note: C stands for "Can I please shove a fist up my ass and crabwalk the fuck out of here?")

Yoongi contemplates the tacky decorations in question, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I guess. They pretty much look like the stuff we'd make in elementary school during Arts and Crafts." He points to your mutual friends, grimacing in annoyance. "Them, on the other hand? No child should ever come into contact with those heathens."

"You're right," you snort, shaking your head.

There is a long and awkward pause. Yoongi clears his throat, swaying from side to side while staring at his shoes. You aren't any better, twiddling your thumbs as you will your cheeks to stop flushing. Your senses are practically screaming at you to run away and hide forever, but your limbs feel disjointed from the rest of you.

It's like we're at the zoo on a date and the monkeys won't stop fucking each other, your mind unhelpfully supplies, offering you an image that will permanently make its home on the backs of your eyelids.

Desperate to break the silence, eventually you say, "Hey, Yoongi—"

Right at the same time, Yoongi says, "Hey, Y/N—"

Another pause, but this one is slightly less tense. The two of you share a nervous laugh, though yours sounds a little bit more hysterical. You motion for him to speak first.

"I, uh... wanted to say that you look great. Yeah. Like, you haven't aged a day at all. N-not to say that I don't think you've matured or..." Yoongi stumbles over his words, his voice cracking.

Instead of feeling relieved that he's just as nervous as you, his anxiety only exacerbates your own. There's a reason you have never been good at public speaking, and this is a good example of why:

"No! I get what you mean, don't worry about it," you laugh, on the verge of a mental breakdown. What the fuck is this conversation, even? "You look exactly the same too. Umm... Of course, except for the, uh, hair?"

"Oh, you mean the gray hairs?"

"No, no! Of course not! I m-meant your hair looks really hot—I mean good! It looks GOOD," you repeat, frantically emphasizing the last bit. You had instinctively panicked, your voice rising in pitch. If your cheeks weren't flaming hot already, then they're definitely redder than Seokjin's ass after a Friday night of fun.

The apples of Yoongi's cheek match your own flustered state, though you can imagine that you’re probably at least a hundred times worse. “Well, thank you. I was actually feeling self-conscious about my hair, so hearing that from you is really… nice,” he says, brushing his hair shyly. “I’m kinda done with bright colored hair for now, so seeing my hair in its natural state is still kind of weird.”

“I seriously doubt that Y/N was talking about your hair color, Yoongi,” Hoseok interjects, magically reappearing behind you when you don’t notice. You flinch in surprise, causing him to let out a hearty chuckle at your jumpiness. It seems that today is “Let’s scare the living shit out of Y/N” day with how many people have crept up on you in just one night.

Beside him, Seokjin looks like a bomb ready to explode, his fist jammed up his mouth to keep his guffaws from slipping out. “God, this is even better than the cringe compilations I watch on Youtube,” he wheezes, wiping a stray tear.

“Don’t be so mean to them, hyung! Don’t mind him,” Hoseok says to you, bowing apologetically. He smiles cherubically at Yoongi. “See, Yoongi? I told you that Y/N is even hotter up close!”

“God, fucking kill me,” you hear Yoongi groan.

“So, have you guys caught up yet, or have you just been fumbling around each other like a couple of horny teenagers?” Seokjin snickers, narrowly avoiding your heel stomping his foot.

“We’ve only just said hello. Leave us alone, jackass,” you huff.

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Well, Hoseok and I can go on our merry ways if you wish—”

“Yoongi! Did you tell Y/N about your work back in Seoul? I bet she’d love to hear about it,” Hoseok interrupts smoothly, saving you from further embarrassment (courtesy of his infuriating goblin of a boyfriend.)

You blink in surprise, turning to the man in question. “You live in Seoul now? Did you move there after finishing university?” you ask.

“Well,” Yoongi starts, clearing his throat. He’s permanently pink at this point, not that you mind in the slightest. He always did have the cutest blush (and once upon a time, you used to love teasing him about it.) “I sort of dropped out of university early. Decided it wasn’t really my thing, you know?”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Yoongi. You were a fantastic student. I’m sure Y/N remembers how smart you are,” Hoseok says, winking inconspicuously at you.

You force out a laugh in response. You know perfectly well what he was trying to do; Hoseok isn’t slick in the slightest, though you do admit that you are intrigued to find out what Yoongi had done over the years.

It isn’t like you haven’t been keeping tabs on him. In your defense, it’s hard to stay away from news about Yoongi when he’s such a big deal. So what if you’ve watched a couple of his interviews and streamed all of his songs? He’s always been talented with music, and all the radio shows seem to agree. You couldn’t get away from him if you tried (and it’s not like you were trying very hard, anyway.)

Yoongi shrugs, rubbing his neck bashfully. “E-either way, I decided to tough it out, you know? Follow my dreams and all that, even if it nearly killed me.”

“And now, he’s working in a famous idol company as one of their head producers,” Hoseok finishes for him, chest puffing up in pride. He slaps his best friend on the back, not noticing that he had inadvertently caused Yoongi's spine to cave in from his strength. “Yoongi is so cool, and humble too! He’s been working behind the scenes for a bunch of big names and never got greedy for attention even though he totally deserves it.”

“Damn, so no street cred? Bit schewpid, innit? Imagine all the chicks you could’ve landed, bruv!” Seokjin says, imitating a terrible British accent. You make a move to hit him in the groin, but for once, Hoseok beats you to the punch.

“Nope! Yoongi-chi is super single, aren’t you?” Hoseok says with a sweet grin, ignoring the pained groans of his lover on the floor.

“No need to rub it in, Seok-ah,” Yoongi grumbles defensively. He coughs into his fist, grinding his foot into the floor. He throws a glance your way. “Just been… too busy, I guess.”

From the floor, Seokjin holds up a hand, grasping at Hoseok’s pant leg to hoist himself up. “What a coincidence. Y/N is super single too. In fact, her pussy is so dry that there’d be no chance for any yeast infections to develop—WAIT, DON’T HIT ME AGAIN I PROMISE I’LL BEHAVE!” Seokjin is on his knees, holding his arms up in surrender as Hoseok’s boot is about to connect with his stomach.

“I know I said I was into BDSM, but not like this!” Seokjin says, faking a sob.

“Then behave, darling,” Hoseok replies, eyes lighting dangerously. When he returns his attention to you, you and Yoongi back away instinctively. “Sorry about him. We have an… arrangement,” he says, waving his hands vaguely.

“Understood,” you both say, not understanding but also not wanting to.

Seokjin manages to straighten up eventually, his skin slightly paler than it was before. “A-as I was saying,” he exhales, still gingerly cupping his crotch. “Y/N has been single for so long, but I don’t blame her. Not after that awful disaster of a boyfriend, right? God, Sungjae fucking sucked ass, and not even in the sexy way.”

“Um, yeah…” you say hesitantly, avoiding eye contact. You can feel Hoseok’s and Yoongi’s eyes trained on you, but you’re not confident enough to know that you can keep your face neutral.

With your gaze averted, you don’t notice the way Yoongi’s posture tenses. “Is that so,” he says carefully.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Hoseok says. You can hear the genuine sadness in his tone, and you chance a peek at him. He pats your shoulder gently, giving you a soft smile. “Honestly, I feel you. I’ve definitely been there, done that. That’s why I’m grateful for Seokjin-hyung, believe it or not. He’s been really good for me.”

“Hah, I told you I’m a good person!” Seokjin says. Again, he goes ignored.

“It’s fine. It’s all water under the bridge,” you say, shrugging. You can still feel Yoongi’s persistent gaze on the side of your head like a brand. You’re kind of afraid to see what sort of expression he has despite the curiosity burning inside of you.

You are still in the middle of debating if it’s worth explaining or not (and to a lesser extent, why you feel like you need to explain yourself to anyone), everyone’s attention is caught by the onslaught of waiters bringing in a fresh batch of food to the buffet. Your stomach growls in response, and you are reminded of the fact that you haven’t eaten since breakfast in preparation for tonight’s event.

“Hold that thought, Y/N,” Hoseok says, holding up a finger. “Hyung! I saw a platter of tuna belly and I know that shit is gonna disappear in two seconds. Let’s head out!” He tugs Seokjin in a hurry, the elder’s gangly legs flying about as he trips over himself to keep up. Seokjin yelps and hollers for him to slow down, but the hangry Hoseok train stops for no one. They run off, leaving Hoseok-and-Seokjin-shaped dust clouds in their wakes.

“Wow,” Yoongi says, dumbfounded. “Did we just get ditched by our two self-proclaimed best friends in the world?”

You nod, equally dumbfounded. “I guess we did.”

He shakes his head. “Fucking traitors.”

And just like that, the conversation dies.

Without your friends acting as buffers, the pair of you return to your painfully awkward states. You rack your brain for a conversation topic, anything to keep the tension at bay. You don’t feel nearly comfortable enough to ask him about his love life, even though you want nothing more than to shake the details right out of him. For perfectly sane reasons, of course.

Lucky for you, Yoongi thinks of a solution. “Um, I guess we should go grab our food as well? I’m assuming we’ll be sitting together since our friends are... you know. Unless you don’t want to, then that’s also perfectly fine with me. I can find somewhere else to sit.”

“I’d love to sit with you,” you say, cringing at your choice of words. Love to? What are you, desperate?! your brain screeches at you, and you mentally beat yourself in the coochie.

Deep down, you know that you’re overreacting, but you can’t help acting like a blushy teenager talking to your crush when you’re around Yoongi. It’s almost as if you’ve reverted to your high school days, back when you’d both started to notice your feelings for each other and the steady flow of butterflies erupting in your stomach had felt less like a burden and more like a revelation.

After tossing your disgusting drink into a nearby bin, you and Yoongi line up behind the rest of your classmates for the buffet, the scene reminiscent of having lunch at your old high school cafeteria. You’re still mildly distracted by Yoongi’s proximity, not looking at what food you were getting and randomly scooping and hoping you don’t dislike all of them.

From the corner of your eye, you notice that Yoongi’s plate is steadily piling up, probably with enough food to feed two people. You’ve never known Yoongi to be much of a heavy eater, but you suppose that free food is still free food at the end of the day.

“So,” Yoongi says after a beat. He pulls you from your trance, and you catch the small smile on his face that tells you that he figured you had been distracted. “How is Jungkook, by the way? He graduated from university a year ago or something, right?”

You pause, your hand stilling on the metal tongs. “How did you know he graduated last year?”

He shrugs. “Well, assuming that he didn’t take any gap years, I did the math and figured he should be at the age where he’s looking for a job.” He turns to you with a sly grin. “Plus, I’m still his friend on Facebook.”

“That’s surprising,” you comment. You backtrack a little, “And I mean it’s surprising in the sense that… All his posts are reshares from dank meme pages and I thought you wouldn’t be into that.”

Yoongi laughs. “I’m not. But… it’s nice to know how things are back home, I guess.”

Do you wonder about me, too? you think, but you internally shake your head. But why would he? He doesn’t owe you anything.

“And your dad? I heard he got hip surgery last fall,” Yoongi says.

“Wait, Jungkook has been posting about our dad’s surgery on his Facebook?”

“Oh! No, not exactly.” Yoongi clears his throat, suddenly nervous. He heaps a big portion of kimchi, some of it staining his sleeve. “I… called him a few days ago, to catch up.”

You’re staring at him, and you dimly register the people lined up behind you huffing impatiently. “You… called him? You have his cell number, too?”

“No, I just… happen to still have your home telephone number memorized and hoped that you guys hadn’t moved,” he says, a little guiltily.

You’re silent for a moment, thoughtlessly scooping more bean sprouts onto your plate than any sane person would be comfortable eating. The two of you inch along the buffet display as you attempt to process his sudden confession.

On one hand, you’re slightly betrayed that your own brother hadn’t thought to mention that your ex had called him, but on the other hand, what would you have done if he did? Ask if you could say hello? The Y/N from last month probably would have laughed if she had known that Min Yoongi still cared enough to call and check on her family, much less have her landline memorized even after all these years.

He still cared.

Unbeknownst to everyone in the room, your heart skips a beat at the thought. You cradle a hand to your chest, urging your nerves to quell. Keep it together, you beg your stupid, naive heart. You can survive one night without falling in love again, can’t you?

...can you?

“I…” you stammer. You swallow thickly, desperate for something to say, anything to stop your mind from going in the wrong direction. “They miss you, you know? You have no idea how many times my parents ask if you’re coming home for Christmas, or—I don’t know.”

“Yeah, my parents are the same. They always wanna know if I’m coming home for the holidays, and they,” he hesitates, swallowing thickly, “They always ask about you, too.”

Oh.

“Oh,” you mutter lamely. Your cheeks feel like they’ve been lit on fire the moment you got here, and you haven’t even visited the bar yet.

You finally make it to the end of the long buffet table where there is a large chocolate fountain just begging for you to ravage if only your stomach wasn’t besieged by butterflies. Yoongi glances at you, his own hands too full to get any desserts, but he still pauses as if he’s waiting for you. When you make it apparent you aren’t interested in the mouthwatering cakes and pastries (a big fat lie, but you also don’t want to vomit in front of him and your hundreds of schoolmates), he raises a brow as though he’s surprised.

“What? I’m not that much of a sweet tooth,” you scoff.

“This is coming from the girl who broke into her little brother’s piggy bank to buy some ice cream from a passing street vendor?” he teases.

“That’s the old me. Now, I make enough money to buy my own sweets,” you say smugly.

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say.” If you didn’t know any better, you might have thought he looked endeared.

The pair of you search for Hoseok and Seokjin, only to find that the couple had somehow found a table for all of you somewhere near the back. With one last longing glance at the wondrous chocolate fountain, you walk away with Yoongi in tow. You have to push through throngs of people, a few old familiar faces stopping to say hello before they notice the precarious situation on Yoongi’s plate and let you through. You wave at them, promising to greet them later before turning to Yoongi.

“Isn’t it kind of weird to see all these people again? Not gonna lie, it’s almost hard to recognize a few of them.” You note some of the crazy hair colors and drastic fashion choices that you never thought you’d see a decade ago. An even stranger sight, however, is the occasional schoolmates with little ones attached to their hips. You recognize one of the new parents, your mouth dropping in shock.

“Wait, is that Seulgi? And is that her—”

“Her son? Jesus Christ,” Yoongi mutters, equally as bewildered as you. “Damn, I did not expect her of all people to be one of the first to have a kid. I’d always thought it’d be Sooyoung.”

You nod in agreement. You observe the little boy tug roughly at her skirt, his tiny fists making grabbing motions at the cookies on her plate. “Yeah. I always thought I’d have a kid before Seulgi, at least. What a surprise.”

You speak before you think, and it takes longer than it should have for you to realize your mistake. By then, Yoongi’s expression had already morphed into astonishment, his eyes bugging out as he chokes on his spit.

Your cheeks are burning, your mouth opening and closing as pure panic seizes you. You cannot believe that you just said that! No fucking way! Did you eat lube this morning or something? Why are words just spilling out of your mouth at an unprecedented rate?! You’re begging your brain to come up with something, anything, to control the damage, but alas your thoughts remain resolutely frozen.

If aliens were to choose to study the human race right now, they’d be sorely disappointed to find the lack of intelligent lifeforms. No complex thoughts going on over here! Not one goddamn neuron firing in this bitch!

“O-oh, well, that’s…” he trails off. He clears his throat, his jaw clenched as he awkwardly tries to feign composure. “I didn’t know you were, um, interested? Well, n-not that I think you were averse to the idea of having kids, since I remember you mentioning it when we were, um,” he pauses, struggling to find a word other than dating, or together, or in love, or not painstakingly careful around each other, like every conversation topic was a fucking minefield.

“Younger?” you supply. A safe, neutral word. Yay for you! You deserve a snack from your animal care keeper right about now.

“Right,” he nods. He looks down at his shoes, revealing his flushed neck. He’s frustratingly adorable like this, but it does nothing except distract you. “Were you, um, planning on having a kid with your ex-boyfriend? Before you broke up?”

Ex-boyfriend? Why is he bringing him up all of a sudden? You stare at him in confusion for half a second before realization strikes you. Thankfully (or unthankfully), it seems that Yoongi misunderstands the implication behind your words and has taken your little slip-up the wrong way. For once, you are so thankful that Yoongi almost failed Math during the 10th grade and never learned to put two and two together.

“Definitely not,” you bark out a laugh, but it sounds incredibly forced, even to your own ears. You stare at the plate of food in your hands, a wave of unpleasant memories washing over you. “I doubt he’d ever want kids, anyway. Seokjin used to make fun of him and call him the world’s biggest toddler.”

Yoongi winces, his brow furrowing. “How long were you together?”

“Like, two years?” You shrug. “It felt longer, to be honest. Even if we dated for so long, I could never imagine myself having a family with him,” you say.

It was almost the truth, but not quite. While your ex-boyfriend had undoubtedly been a pain in your ass, he wasn’t completely bad, especially in the beginning. You had enough self-respect that you would have ended the relationship earlier if he didn’t have any redeeming qualities. The main problem was that he had a tough act to follow, and you don’t think any man on earth would be able to live up to your lofty expectations at this point, not when you’d constantly be comparing everyone to—

Yoongi speaks up again. “Seokjin seems to really dislike him. Was he really that bad?”

“Seokjin has never really liked any of my past flings,” you admit, rolling your eyes. (You fail to mention that Yoongi has always been the only exception.) “Despite his own disgustingly high body count, I can’t say he was wrong. Sungjae was a self-centered prick who never gave me the time of day. Hell, I was almost thankful when I caught him cheating. It was the final push I needed.”

Even though it’s been so long, the pain of seeing your ex-boyfriend locking lips with a stranger he had randomly picked up from the street still throbs inside of you. It wasn’t like you were particularly sad or surprised to find out, but you’d always been a bit sensitive to people who kept secrets from you. Plus, it kinda sucked to know that they had fucked on your favorite Egyptian cotton sheets.

“Fucking bastard. If I ever saw him in person, I’d definitely kick his nuts ‘til he’s left with a concave crotch,” he seethes, eyes narrowing.

You laugh. You have to confess that the mental image is satisfying. “You don’t even know what he looks like though!”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m sure Seokjin would tell me if I asked,” he huffs. He mutters something else after, but his volume drops to a whisper and you have to step closer to properly hear him.

“What? Sorry, I missed that,” you say, but you could have sworn he said something like “I wouldn’t have done that if it were me” but you couldn’t be completely sure.

“N-nothing,” he stutters, waving off your confusion. He tacks on a smile, but you can tell that he must have been embarrassed by whatever he’d said. If it was anything like what you thought he’d said, then you could understand. It wasn’t like he was wrong, anyway.

He makes a move to rub the back of his neck, but he greatly underestimates the weight of his platter and nearly drops everything. Something deep inside of you kicks in, and your body instinctively moves to hold his plate with your free hand, saving him from a very messy situation. However, that also means that your hands are now touching each other, your fingertips grazing his knuckles.

Instead of letting him go like a normal person, your ape brain makes the first move (as per usual).

“Your hands are still cold,” you say dumbly. You had wanted to say more, like “your hands are still as cold as they were from when we were younger,” but bringing up your past together, even for something so harmless, still feels taboo. You keep your hands where they are, your eyes locked on his. It feels like you’re in the middle of a dramatic TV show while I Will Go To You by Ailee plays in the background. You can almost imagine the numerous ads for random Korean cosmetic products framing the two of you in slow motion.

Yoongi chuckles, reluctantly pulling away from you. You already miss the sensation of his skin on yours. “I guess some things never change, huh?” he says, wavering slightly. He stares at you for another moment before shaking his head, as though he’s pushing away some unwelcome thoughts. He turns away, leaving you behind to make his way to your table.

Despite the unbidden emotions bubbling up your throat and threatening to spill over, you have no choice but to follow.

At the table, Seokjin and Hoseok speak mutely with each other, though the exaggerated expressions on both their faces tell you that they had been in the middle of an argument. When Yoongi takes his place beside Hoseok, the couple pauses in their bickering to greet you.

Hoseok looks at Yoongi’s overflowing plate. “Dude. I know I teased you about being a skinny twig a while ago, but I wasn’t implying that you gorge yourself.”

Yoongi jolts in surprise before staring back at his plate. Weirdly enough, he looks just as shocked as Hoseok to find the amount of food he had gotten, as though he hadn’t even noticed.

Perhaps he was just as distracted as you had been? you think, staring at your own meager pickings. Oops, you definitely didn’t get enough food to fill your ravenous appetite.

“That’s fine. I can share with you guys,” Yoongi says.

Seokjin peers at your plate, smirking knowingly. “Oh, yes. I’m sure Y/N would love to get some of your food. It seems like the two of you either over or underestimated how much you’d eat.”

“Aww, cute!” Hoseok coos, pinching Yoongi’s cheek. “You still have the habit of getting food for her. That’s so sweet that you still remember that about her!”

You had been in the middle of taking a swig of your water, but Hoseok’s comment nearly causes it to spew out from your nose. You cough harshly, beating your chest as your nose burns, among other things.

“Hoseok!” Yoongi scolds. He hits his friend on the shoulder, but Hoseok’s giggles refuse to stop.

“Oh shit, you’re totally right! Remember all those times when either one of us was forced to third-wheel with them?” Seokjin guffaws. “Y/N always orders something gross whenever we eat out together, and Yoongi ends up having to share half of his food with her when she starts moping.”

“I did not mope!” you retort vehemently.

“You kind of did,” Yoongi mutters under his breath, but you catch him this time.

You cross your arms, scowling. “Did not!”

Yoongi covers his mouth to fake a cough, but you can tell he’s smiling from how his eyes start to crinkle.

“You guys are so cute,” Hoseok sighs, squeezing Yoongi into a hug. Yoongi paws at him weakly, but you know that he enjoys skinship too much to push his friend away. Still, he pouts cutely, his cheeks puffing up like a pastry.

“Anyway, why were you guys arguing a while ago?” Yoongi asks, changing the subject. “Seokjin-hyung is kinda red in the face.”

“Oh, we weren’t really arguing. Hyung had gotten some wine from the bar but he forgot to get me some,” Hoseok says. He glares sharply at Seokjin. “Bastard.”

“You just said we weren’t fighting!” Seokjin whines. He stands up, raising his arms in surrender. “But fine! I’ll go get your damn wine,” he sulks, groaning when he stretches his back and a few worrisome pops resound from his joints.

“Damn, hyung. I know I told you that I hope you grow up well when we were kids, but I didn’t think you’d take it that literally,” Yoongi jokes, earning a sharp laugh from you. Yoongi glances at you then, visibly proud when he catches the wide grin on your face.

Seokjin gasps, offended. “I am not old! I’m literally a year older than you guys! And here I was, about to get you both drinks as well! It sucks to be the nice one in a friend group,” he sniffs.

“Yes, we are eternally grateful for your service,” Hoseok says sarcastically. “Oh, and remember to get some drinks for Y/N and Yoongi-chi too!” Hoseok adds, slamming his palm on Seokjin’s sore back.

Seokjin yelps, before biting his lip. “Owwie, that hurt,” he moans, winking salaciously.

As the closest person to him, you make it your right to jam your heeled foot onto his gelatinous and push away with a shout of disgust. “Leave, wench!” you snarl, but you’re unfortunately drowned out by his cackling. Even so, he does make his leave, affording your table some level of peace.

“So,” Hoseok starts, a twinkle of mischief in his eye. He cradles his chin with his hands, smiling innocuously at the two of you. “How’s it goin’? Are you both having fun?” he says, laced with meaning.

Ah, you had forgotten; peace was never an option.

Though he is undoubtedly less annoying than Seokjin, you still don’t trust the way he’s staring at you, like he’s waiting for one of you to jump into the other’s lap and recreate his favorite porn scene.

(A terrible thought to have, especially when you’d probably be as begrudging as you should be if you were swayed sufficiently.)

“It’s going fine, thank you very much,” Yoongi responds, giving his best friend a stern look.

You nod wordlessly, unable to trust yourself to keep from stammering and making your frayed nerves apparent (if they aren’t already.) You grab your glass and busy yourself with your drink to delay answering.

You don’t notice that you had taken Yoongi’s cup by accident until you’ve already gulped a third of his water, dropping it with a loud clunk. “Oh shit, sorry! I didn’t mean to drink from yours,” you say sheepishly.

Yoongi smiles at your concern. “No worries. It’s just a cup.”

“Sharing cups too? Damn, what happened while Seokjin and I were away?” Hoseok laughs. Yoongi flicks him lightly on the wrist in retaliation.

“It’s just a cup,” he repeats before turning to you. “Sorry, I think he’s a bit drunk.”

“Haven’t had a single drop of alcohol but whatever,” Hoseok says, shoveling a large piece of tuna belly into his mouth.

The sight of him eating reminds you of your own hunger, your food slightly colder now after talking to Yoongi and your friends for so long. You take a spoonful of chicken, the taste not terrible but not as good as you would like. Your face must give your disappointment away because you hear Yoongi chuckling beside you.

“Bad food again? Guess you really are the same,” Yoongi says, low enough that Hoseok wouldn’t hear. He pushes his plate towards you, carefully nudging some of his bulgogi onto yours. “This tastes kind of sweet, so I’m not really into it. But you prefer it sweeter right?”

All you can do is nod in agreement, watching as he piles your plate with his food. His sleeves, which had already been stained previously by some stray bits of kimchi, become even more saturated with sauces and oils. Now that you see it up close, his sleeves seem a bit too long for him, his palms half covered like sweater paws.

Without thinking too hard, you place your hands over Yoongi’s wrists, his entire body freezing as he waits for what you will do. Gently, as though you’re approaching a frightened kitten, you fold his sleeves until they’re no longer dangling into his food. The gesture is more intimate than you had intended, his proximity allowing you to smell the familiar fragrance of his cologne.

Paco Rabanne, your mind reminds you. Of course.

You pull away, trying your best to appear as unfazed as possible. You clench your hands and dig your nails into your skin to keep them from trembling. “If I’m the same, you’re no better. You always used to forget to pull back your sleeves before eating.”

After a beat, Yoongi returns from his stupor, licking his lips. “My hands were cold,” he explains.

“I know.” You lick your lips too, suddenly parched despite all the water you have drunk.

A forgotten treasure trove of memories resurrects inside of you, things that you had thought had been buried too deep for you to find again. You are filled with this odd feeling, an awareness. An old wound has resurfaced, one that you thought had healed long ago.

That wound throbs, still.

It’s so strange, being with him like this. A piece of your past that has come to your present, both the same and different as you remember. He knows parts of you that no one else will, as do you with him. But those parts were only ever supposed to stay buried: memories, after all, aren’t supposed to be tangible.

And yet, here he stands: real, alive, close.

It leaves you feeling emptier than before.

The atmosphere grows somber after that, neither of you offering much to the conversation. Hoseok is more than happy to pick up the slack, filling the stark silence along with the occasional hums from Yoongi. When Seokjin returns, he makes no note of the change in mood and focuses more on eating and talking with his partner. It allows the two of you to remain deep in thought.

You are pushing your remaining bits of food around your plate when the soft instrumental music playing on the overhead speaker stops abruptly, and the sound of a microphone being tapped prompts everyone to turn to the front of the ballroom. The host of the event announces that the next part of the reunion will begin shortly and encourages all the performers to head to the sound booth to prepare. A couple of your schoolmates rise from their seats, most of whom were the students you remembered being part of choir or band.

You half-expect Yoongi to stand up as well, but he stays rooted to the spot. Apparently, Hoseok is wondering the same thing.

“Yoongi? Didn’t you say that the organizers asked you to perform some of your songs?” Hoseok questions.

“They did.”

“But?”

Yoongi brings his fingers to his teeth, biting on them anxiously. Your hand makes a move to pull them away, but you think better of it. No need to supply your friends with more teasing ammunition. “But I changed my mind last minute. I felt kind of embarrassed to be performing my own songs. I’m more of a producer, not a performer.”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Yoongi. You’re poggers, as the kids like to say,” Seokjin pipes up.

“I wouldn’t put it like that, but he’s right. A lot of people like your music and think you’re a great performer,” you assure him. “And I like your music, too,” you add shyly.

Yoongi’s hand drops from his mouth, eyes glittering with disbelief. He looks like he wants to disagree with you, but eventually decides to just smile in gratitude. “I didn’t know you listened to my music,” he says quietly.

Before you can reply, Seokjin chooses to interrupt with his migraine-inducing cackle and ruin the moment (as he is prone to do.) “Oh bitch! If you only knew how much this girl loves your music. She even buys your physical CDs AND collects your photocards.”

“I do not!” You scream, flinging a piece of bread at his head. You refuse to peek at Yoongi.

“Don’t worry, Y/N! I collect his photocards too. Wanna trade sometime? I’m missing the one when he still had mint hair,” Hoseok giggles.

“Will the two of you stop? God, it’s like you both had been planning to embarrass us as much as possible,” Yoongi exclaims, incensed.

When neither of them responds, you and Yoongi whip your heads towards them only to find two self-satisfied, smirking shitheads.

“Why watch reality shows when you can make your own?” Seokjin says in lieu of an answer, pointing finger guns. He blows you a kiss with a wink.

You clutch your chest, pretending to wince in pain. “Augh! Poison damage!”

Seokjin scoffs. “Swagever, man. You’re just mad because you’re angry,” he retorts, sticking out his tongue.

While you were occupied bickering with Seokjin, you had not seen that one of your old schoolmates had invited herself to your table. She sandwiches herself in the space between you and Yoongi, bumping you roughly enough to topple you out of your chair.

“What the fuck?” you yelp in surprise, holding onto the table to balance yourself. After straightening back into your seat, you find that your view of the world has become obscured by asscheeks the size of beachballs.

“Hi Yoongi,” she purrs seductively. Or at least, what she thinks is seductive. To you, her voice sounds like nails grating on a chalkboard.

“Hello?” Yoongi says, but it comes out sounding more like a question. It’s clear that he doesn’t remember her name, as he searches your eyes for help. You shrug unhelpfully; you deleted almost all the names of everyone that you had gone to school with right after graduation. Besides, her horrendous plastic surgery makes it even twice as hard to discern her identity.

“Hi Hyejin,” Hoseok speaks up, answering your unspoken question. Oh, right. The name does ring a bell, somewhat. You don’t recall her looking like a cartoon character before, but you suppose beauty standards are meant to be subjective. Maybe she wanted to look like a One Piece character.

Hyejin purses her lips into a tight smile but doesn’t return his greeting. She turns back to Yoongi, bending forward until her boobs are practically smooshed against his face. You wonder idly if stabbing her chest with your chopsticks would cause them to burst like a balloon, or perhaps drain like a puss-filled pimple. Both, you surmise, would be very entertaining to watch.

“It’s been a while since we’ve last seen each other, hm? I heard you’ve been very busy ever since we graduated from high school,” she says, batting her eyelashes.

“Uh, yeah? Some of us have jobs,” he says, passively dissing her. You let out a strangled laugh, causing Hyejin to aim a glare back at you. You bring your (his) cup of water to your lips, feigning innocence.

Hyejin rolls her eyes. “Right. But I meant that you’ve become a real star back in Seoul! I didn’t know you were such a musical prodigy!”

“I’m really not. I just work hard,” he shrugs. He’s visibly uncomfortable, especially since Hyejin was pretty much breathing the same air as him. Every time he leans away from her, she takes it as an invitation to come closer. He is nearly lying horizontally at this point, his back parallel with the floor.

“Humble as well as handsome? My, my. I didn’t think you’d be such a charmer,” she laughs, saccharine sweet. She twirls her dyed brown hair with her perfectly manicured acrylic nails. You rub at the goosebumps forming on your arms, cringing at the phantom sensation of her nails digging into your skin.

“Just spit it out. What the hell do you want so you can leave,” Seokjin interjects. Everything about his demeanor says calm and collected, but the way he presses his lips into a thin line says otherwise. You can sense the air dropping in temperature, despite the embers burning behind his eyes.

“I came over here to ask if Yoongi could give me his autograph, that’s all. I am his biggest fan, after all,” she sulks. She winks at him for extra measure. “And maybe his number too? I’d love to discuss your music with you sometime!”

“Oh, um. That’s—” he cuts off, hesitant to answer. He tugs at his ears nervously, exchanging subtly alarmed glances with you.

You remember that signal very distinctly; it’s a distress call that he would do whenever he needed a way out. He used to do it a lot when you were at social gatherings, especially when people would trap him in boring or awkward conversations. He never did like socializing with people outside his circle, but he was often dragged to parties by his more extroverted friends.

He might be hot as hell with his stylish clothes and jaw-dropping undercut, but he’s still awkward as hell around strangers. When the universe created him, they made sure to keep everything in balance. If they hadn’t been fair, you certainly would’ve died much earlier.

“Yoongi, don’t you have spare CDs of your music?” you quip, dragging Hyejin’s attention onto you. Her eyes narrow imperceptibly, suspicious.

“I do?” He stares at you blankly.

You resist hitting your forehead in exasperation. “Yes, Yoongi. Remember? You left a couple of them in my car.”

Yoongi’s eyes light up in understanding. “Oh, right! I left my CDs. In your car. That we drove here. Together. We came here. Together. Yes, correct.”

From your periphery, you can sense Hoseok barely holding onto his sanity after witnessing that pitiful display. Who can blame him when Yoongi’s infamously terrible acting skills are having their first appearance in over ten years? How he managed to pass Drama class is still a mystery to this day.

“Yup,” you say, popping your p. You give Hyejin a winsome smile, your hands folded neatly on your lap. You can almost see the steam blowing out of her ears. It fills you with delicious satisfaction. “Why don’t Yoongi and I go get them so he can sign one?”

If her eyes had been made of lasers, you’d be a cauterized mess jumble of organs by now. Can’t say you would regret it either way.

“How kind of you.” She sneers. “Also, I wasn’t aware that you two were still a thing.”

“I wasn’t aware that we were required to inform you of anything,” you retort placidly. You plaster on your fakest grin. “Now, if you can please move your fat ass—I mean, if you can please move out of the way so I can go to my car...” you trail off, gesturing for her to leave.

After a few more indignant sputters on her end, she eventually makes her exit. She throws a couple of poisonous glares, but they go largely ignored by you and your friends. With her gone, you feel as though you can finally breathe fresh air again.

“Great stuff, Y/N! Congrats on winning your first bitch-off,” Seokjin chirps, back to his usual self. You roll your eyes at his antics but smile nonetheless.

“Thanks. I learned from the best.”

Yoongi clears his throat. “So, are we still gonna go?” He looks back and forth from her to you. “Just so we can pretend you actually have my albums in your car?”

“Trust me, Yoongi-chi. She does have your albums in her car.” Seokjin titters. “I wasn’t kidding about the photocard collection.”

“Ignore him. And yes, I do have your albums. I listen to them in my car from time to time,” you say, attempting nonchalance. “I’d hate to give them away to that bitch, but if it keeps her away...”

Away from you is left unsaid, but it’s heavily implied.

(No, you aren’t jealous. You’re above jealousy. It’s not like that bitch would ever have a chance with him anyway, unlike you—!

Woah there, cowgirl. Let’s stay on the right path. Don’t want your heart getting chewed up and spat back out all over again, do you?)

“I’ll just mail you a new one. Signed, if you want. You can probably sell it on eBay or whatever.” He tries to say it like a joke, but his brow is too furrowed to be convincing. (You want to kiss him there and make it go away.)

You don’t trust yourself to speak, so all you do is nod mutely. You stand up and Yoongi follows suit.

“We’ll be right back. If she comes back before then, tell her to scram,” you tell Hoseok and Seokjin. They salute you in response (well, Hoseok does. Seokjin does a very rude gesture with his fingers that is supposed to mimic something explicit. Feel free to use your imagination.)

The walk to the parking lot is a quiet one. The two of you stay side by side, his strides naturally matching your own. Unlike before, you don’t feel the need to fill the silence for once, content to just be in each other’s presence.

The hotel that your reunion is being held at is unusually unpopulated. The lobby consists of a handful of employees milling about, a few of whom look ready to fall asleep on their feet. You nod politely at the bellboy who opens the main doors for you, declining his offer to call the valet service to fetch your car.

“Just hand me my keys. I’ll look for my car in the parking lot.” It wouldn’t be hard to find, anyway. Your beat-up Toyota Corolla looks as though it’s been through three wars and then some.

It isn’t long until you find it parked close to the entrance. You unlock your car from the passenger seat, shimmying the glove compartment open to reveal your collection of CDs.

“Wow, you weren’t lying when you said you listened to my music,” Yoongi says, voice loud amidst the tranquil night. It startles you, and you accidentally knock over some of the albums onto your car floor. On top of the pile lies Yoongi’s most recent album, the one you recall he had released a couple of months ago.

Strange, how just hours ago you were listening to his music on the way to the reunion, only for the boy on the cover of the album to be just inches away from you.

“Yeah, well. You’re a pretty good artist,” you say.

“Only pretty good?” he repeats, amused.

“Don’t push it,” you snort. You grab the album on top, waving it in front of him. “This should be good enough, right?”

He plucks it from your grasp, an unreadable expression clouding his eyes. He chuckles, but there’s an edge of sadness in his tone. “Good enough,” he agrees solemnly.

His sudden quietness is different from the peaceful one before. It’s sorrowful, maybe regretful. He looks like a man stuck in grief.

“Did you know that I didn’t finish this album before releasing it?”

The question seems a little out of the blue, but you answer regardless. “No, I didn’t. They don’t sound unfinished to me.”

“The songs themselves aren’t unfinished,” he explains. He turns the album over, his finger running down the back where the tracklist is printed. “One of my songs never made it in.”

“Couldn’t you have delayed the album launch so you could complete it?”

He shakes his head. “It was actually the first song I finished out of all of them.”

“Then..?”

“It didn’t matter, at the time. I wrote it for someone specifically, but I didn’t want to put it on the album if she—they didn’t listen to it. It wouldn’t matter if the whole world heard that song because only they would understand it.”

“But now? What changed?” Fear and hope run down your spine in tandem when the question tumbles out of you. You hold your breath, and the world shifts from its axis.

But he doesn’t elaborate further.

x x x x x

You return to the hotel after acquiring both an album and some more tension. The album feels heavy in your hands, weighed down by secrets you are still too afraid to uncover. Not that Yoongi would ever willingly divulge them to you—because revealing them would make them real, and making them real would mean you would have to accept them, and accepting them would cause you to—

“They’re gone,” Yoongi announces when you reenter the ballroom. You can’t spot your table from the entranceway, but the certainty in Yoongi’s tone makes you believe him.

“No fucking way. Did those two little shits ditch us to exchange body fluids or something?”

Yoongi grimaces. “Please don’t say it like that. It’s bad enough that I was sitting close enough to Hoseok a while ago that I got accidentally footsie’d by Seokjin hyung.”

You wince, placing a pitying hand on his shoulder. “God didn’t make us his strongest soldiers.”

Yoongi tries dialing Hoseok a few times, but none of the calls connect. “Just my rotten luck,” he groans. He types angrily into his phone, worry creasing his forehead. “He was supposed to be my ride back to his place.”

“Seokjin isn’t answering his phone either,” you say apologetically. “How much do you wanna bet this is part of their evil scheme to leave us together?”

“I don’t doubt it in the slightest,” he deadpans. He sighs tiredly, rubbing his temples. “I suppose I can take a taxi there, but I also don’t know if he’ll be home to open the door for me.”

“Then why don’t you just stay with me?”

You don’t know what you’re doing.

In your head, the offer makes sense. He’s just a friend, you remind yourself. Nothing is stopping you from rekindling a friendship with him. You have purely platonic intentions. Friends help each other out.

Never mind the fact that your heart hasn’t stopped fluttering the entire night. Never mind the fact that you’ve caught yourself staring at him just as many times as you’ve caught him staring at you. Never mind the fact that you don’t want the night to end, not now not ever.

(Never mind the fact that you’ve never quite stopped loving him.)

So when he accepts, you convince yourself that offering had been the right thing to do.

(Maybe. Hopefully. You just wish your heart doesn’t end up as collateral damage.)

The drive home is short, thanks to the late hour. You had asked him if he had wanted to stay until the end of the reunion, but he had declined. “Nothing else left for me there,” he says.

You feel as though he’s hinting at something. Your grip on the steering wheel tightens. “At least I get to keep my album.”

Yoongi laughs, short and sweet.

As much as you try to fight it, sitting in the car with him brings up a lot of memories.

The two of you in the backseat as his older brother drives you to his house for dinner, backpacks filled with crumpled notes and loose pens, a promise of an intense study session for your upcoming exams ready to be broken. You remember how the sky would turn orange in the afternoon, the warm light streaming through the car window and washing Yoongi’s skin with a soft glow.

His cheeks had looked inviting, his lips even more. And you would lean over, kissing him like it was easy. Because it was easy, and you never had to think twice about it.

Your trip down memory lane doesn’t end in the car. As you walk up the steps to your childhood home, you hesitate by the door, your keys frozen over the lock. You can hear Yoongi’s soft breathing behind you, but his presence doesn’t feel as stifling as you thought it would be.

You’re far from being at ease, but you aren’t frightened either. Mostly, you’re just filled with anticipation. Of what? You aren’t sure.

“Excuse the mess. Jungkook is in the middle of moving out so there’s just stuff everywhere,” you say just as you open the door. You toe off your shoes by the entrance, kicking them off haphazardly into the pile of sneakers and boots.

You hear Yoongi huff out a laugh behind you. “Aish, that kid. Still hasn’t let go of his Timbs, huh?”

“He has also been really into chunky sneakers these days. I think he’s finalizing his transformation into Thumper,” you joke. “He’s staying at his new apartment for the weekend with my parents, so you won’t be seeing them. They’re helping him settle in.”

“Really? He didn’t mention moving when we spoke. Where is he moving to?”

“Busan. He and his best friend from college are going to start a restaurant in his hometown. Which is funny, since neither of them are the best chefs.”

Yoongi whistles. “Still, that’s impressive. I can’t remove the image from my head of when he was a kid. He was so scared of anything. He wouldn’t let go of your mom’s leg even if his life depended on it.”

He steps deeper into the house, his gaze jumping from end to end as he surveys your childhood home. You watch him, noting how right he looks standing there in the middle of your living room, like a chipped painting that has been restored.

It’s scary, how easily you’ve accepted him back into this place.

He stays rooted to the spot, the moonlight filtering through the kitchen windows and illuminating his frame. The air pulses with something magical, something dream-like, and it muddles your vision. It’s the only explanation you have for why your chest tightens when he turns to face you, with a gaze filled with sadness, mourning, yearning.

“Jungkook’s height chart is still here,” he murmurs. The small nicks on the kitchen door frame are hard to see, and other people have mistaken them for signs of wear and tear. But he knows what they are because he was there when your mother had etched the first scratch.

He looks at your ancient dining table, his hand brushing over the surface. “This too,” he says, rubbing at a large burn mark on the wood.

“Mom made sure to use placemats after that. I didn’t think a sizzling plate would burn through the table like that,” you say, giggling as you reminisce. “You know, we still use your mom’s galbi jjim recipe. We haven’t found a better one.”

“I’m sure she would love to hear that,” Yoongi smiles, but it fades just as quickly. “It’s so… strange. Being here again and seeing that nothing really changed.”

But things did change. Upstairs, in your bedroom. That night, ten years ago.

You still remember what you had said to him, when you had said it to him, how you had said it to him.

It was a sunny afternoon, the time of day when you’d be on your way home from school. The two of you had stood in your room, neither of you wanting to sit because sitting meant staying, and staying only made this harder.

There hadn’t been many tears in that moment; those were shed only after the realization had sunk in, when you’d fully understood what had happened. At the time, the decision had been as easy as breathing.

Except you had both been drowning. The clock was ticking down to the end of high school, and the inevitable wasn’t slowing down.

Yoongi wanted to chase his dreams in Seoul. You wanted to stay closer to home, with your friends and family.

You weren’t going to be the one to hold him down. You weren’t going to be that person, not when he’s destined for greater things than his hometown could offer—not even a girl who loved him would be worth staying for.

He had suggested it, first. He had been prepared for you to cry, or maybe scream, but you did none of that. Instead, you pulled him close, hugging him tighter than you ever had before. You wanted to make it last, imprint the sensation onto your brain so that his warmth might stay with you, even after he’s little more than a distant memory. You trembled, terribly so, even though the beginnings of summer crept on your skin like a brand.

It’s time to let him go, Time whispered. You refused to listen, just for another moment.

Let me have this last moment, you beg. But Time refused to listen.

“Do you know?” Yoongi had spoken into your neck, had hoped his words would stain there. “Do you know how much I love you?”

Love, not loved. “I did,” you say. You think better of it. “I do.”

When you separated, for good this time, it had left an ache deeper than you could have ever imagined.

But you were young. Young love was supposed to hurt, but it wasn’t supposed to last. “You’ll find others,” your mother had said, brushing a soothing hand through your hair as you sobbed.

Then why? Then why has it lasted this long?

It has been a question you’ve asked yourself, and you’re starting to think that the answer has always been right in front of you.

The answer is standing in front of you: real, alive, close.

“Why didn’t you ever date again?” you ask. You ask even though you know he can lie, if he wants. He can tell you anything and you would believe him.

But he wouldn’t; you know he wouldn’t.

“I was afraid of closing a door that I never meant to close in the first place,” he says. His voice crackles like static, but that might be the blood rushing to your head. He moves toward you but keeps a hand’s width away. Still too far.

He continues. “After that day, when I left,” he swallows, “after I left, I think… I think I left a piece of me with you. A-and I don’t think I ever stopped…” he cuts off, exhaling shakily.

“Stopped what?” you breathe.

“You know.” He waves his hands around helplessly. They fall heavily back down to his sides, defeated. “You know?” he repeats.

You do. Because you are the same. The old wound had never healed; it burns and it bleeds like new.

Your skull feels like it’s stuffed with cotton when you close the distance between the two of you. He circles his arms around your waist, tentative, but he relaxes when you wind your arms around his neck. Your vision is warped, so you choose to close them. You wait, with bated breath, as his warmth inched closer and closer.

The sensation of his lips on yours jolts you back to your senses. His kiss reminds you of your youth, of a love that had made you excited to start your day. Even now, your body remembers, and it rejoices.

The tenderness does not last long before it turns fervent, tongue and teeth crashing like waves against the shore. If his kisses could speak, they would tell you stories of how much he missed you, of how much he mourned the time you had both lost. They would tell you of the days when he’d almost pressed your number onto his phone, of the nights when he’d stare at the polaroids he had kept of you.

They would ask if you still love him like he still loves you.

He tastes of desperation, and you are likely to be the same. It is a desperation you haven’t tasted in years—but it doesn’t feel scary like it used to. Time no longer feels like it’s racing against you, like you had something to prove before the hour was over. This reckless abandon feels like home against your skin—it is an ache being soothed after having ripped your scabs over and over again.

It’s Yoongi.

And when he pulls you to your room, he doesn’t even need his eyes to find his way as his feet still memorize the floorboards. He struggles with the doorknob, forgetting that it always jammed, but it’s okay because you can always teach him again. You can teach him everything again.

The bed creaks under your weights and even the mattress sounds like it is sighing in relief. That sigh echoes from your lips when his hand slips under your clothes, his palm stopping over your heart.

“I won’t break it, this time,” he says. He promises. “If you let me.”

You wonder if he can feel your heart soaring, pounding against your ribs. “I think the line has long been crossed to ask for my permission.” You place your hand over where his is laid. You squeeze tight.

This time, you don’t let him go.

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