#and during after laughter FUCK i wanted to just die but i needed to dance to feel something
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THE NEWS is incredible, starting IMMEDIATELY into the song without a fucking break!!!!, just like the fucking NEWS and so much so loud so angry LIKE THE NEWS its just so fucking
#GOODOMSFDKMSFD#sorry#i dnt talk abt paramore that much bc idk i feel weird when id o but. something something paramore just#making music that feels like it aligns so well with how imf eeling like fuck man the NEWS and yeah i cant leave my fkcing house#and during after laughter FUCK i wanted to just die but i needed to dance to feel something#THE CAMERA also. the camera was there in this is why#a bitch alwyas trying to find symbolism
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Deadly Reunion | Chapter 3
Eddie Munson x female!reader // a stranger things apocalypse au
summary: You and Eddie have been best friends since childhood. But when the outbreak happened five years ago, you were torn from one another in the chaos. but now you're left alone, after your group was killed by another radical crew, leaving you to seek out what was once home.
warnings: angst + adult themes w/ descriptions of violence, blood, torture + other zombie apocalypse related issues
word count: 2.1k+
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Six Years Before The Outbreak: Summer 1987
You stood on the booth of the table reserved for the boys bouncing and dancing along with the music. Sweat dripped down along your temples and along your body. Nothing was stopping you with the free feeling of alcohol through your veins and Corroded Coffin blaring through the speakers.
“Get down! You’re gonna hurt yourself,” a voice screamed, somehow overpowering the music to meet your ears.
When you looked down your eyes met with Sarah Hoppers. Outside of Eddie, Sarah was another that you were nearly attached to at the hip. The two of you best friends since preschool and stuck all the way through high school. Even with joining cheerleading and becoming part of the popular crowd, Sarah made sure to never forget you and her were friends from the start. She tried to get you to become friends with Chrissy, Jason, and the rest of the group she’d become acclimated with. But it never worked out.
Instead, the two of you hung out during occasions like tonight. Just you, Eddie, and Sarah.
The three of you together like old times.
“No!” You shouted back with a giggly, drunken smile on your lips “Come on, have some fun!”
Sarah sighed heavily, a curse slipping through her lips along with your name, “You are going to break your neck, I don’t think that’s a way you want to spend your birthday.”
You pouted down at Sarah before slowly moving down from the cushioned seat, only now noticing that it was covered in spilled beer and other mysterious liquids. Your boots met the floor of the bar, swaying slighting into Sarah. Thankfully she was quick to catch you before your face was met with the nasty floor. The drink in your hand sloshed slightly causing some of it to spill on the front of your shirt.
“Ah, man,” You pouted and weakly tried to wipe it away.
“Thank you, everybody! We are Corroded Coffin!” Eddie screamed into the mic as their set came to an end.
The crowd around you erupted into near chaos as they screamed and cheered. The wet spot on your shirt was quickly forgotten as you joined in. Sarah was beside you giggling and clapping her hands as the band took a bow, before exiting. Sarah’s hand moved to grab tightly to yours, before soon, she was pulling you through the bodies. You stumbled after her with the world starting to spin around you. People giving you dirty looks as Sarah barreled through them. Sarah might’ve been tiny, but she held some power and showed it when needed.
It wasn’t long till you were out of the tight, heated confines of the bar and into the cooler greenroom of the Hideout. The noise didn’t die down much with the guys hooting and hollering, their energy on a high from the stage. The moment the sound of the door opening cut through the room, Eddie turned to see you and Sarah stumbling in with wide smiles on each your faces.
“Holy shit that was so awesome!” You laughed before stumbling into Eddie. His laughter met your ears as his arms wrapped around you.
“That was the best we’ve ever fucking played,” Eddie smiled, grabbing your face before bending down to kiss your cheeks.
His face was nearly split with how wide and bright his smile was. The clear pride he had for not only himself, but his bandmates was clear in his body language. Eddie’s arm stayed wrapped around you, his sweaty body pressed against yours. You didn’t care at all.
Sarah looked over at you with a knowing look and a wink as she watched the two of you.
Sarah was the only one, to your knowledge, that knew of your love for Eddie. Sarah was your best friend, no question. But Eddie, the feelings you had for him went way beyond ‘best friend’. You knew, deep down, that you were in love with Eddie.
But too scared to say a damn thing about it.
Garrett came through passing shot off to everyone in the room, “To the best motherfuckin’ bandmates, we played our hearts out tonight…and I just know…somethin’ is coming from this!”
Everyone let out a cheer before clinking the glasses together. Eddie looked down toward you with a smile, his glass hitting against yours, before the two of you knocked them back. The sweet burn of the alcohol moves down your throat before settling warmly in your belly.
“Don’t forget,” Eddie spoke loudly, catching everyone’s attention as he took a step away from you. “Sweetheart…”
“Eddie…don’t you dare,” You giggled, your drunken state causing you to slur your words, your eyes glazed over.
“Happy Birthday to you,” Eddie started the song, the rest of the room following along quickly into the chorus.
Your face hurt from the smile that never seemed to leave your face, watching as your room full of friends erupted into song.
“You guys are such losers,” You spoke once the song came to an end.
“Not every day you turn 21, sweetheart,” Eddie spoke, before walking over and grabbing a beer for himself.
The energy of the room died down slightly but didn’t fully go away as everyone broke off with their drinks and separate conversations. You watched as Sarah slid into Jeff’s lap, and her arm wrapped around his shoulder.
“Wanna smoke?” Eddie asked coming up beside you, a pack sitting between two fingers, his head knocking toward the back door.
You nodded your head quickly and followed him into the warmth of the night. The hot summer day from earlier still lingered in the air. But it was cooler than inside the bar, the sweat kissing along your skin cooling instantly.
Eddie pressed his back against the aged brick of the building before bringing a cigarette to his lips, the sparks of the light lit up his face slightly, before bringing embers to the end of the stick. Eddie took a long drag, before passing it off to you. You weren’t much of a smoker and took a few drags from Eddie’s whenever you drank. Instead of wasting an entire one, you two always shared.
“You guys were awesome tonight,” You spoke, after blowing the burnt smoke from your lips, leaning against the building beside him. “It’s like you were on another level,”
Eddie chuckled “Trying to say we normally suck?”
You rolled your eyes and knocked against his shoulder, “You know damn well I don’t mean it like that.”
Eddie shook his head, bringing the cigarettes to his lips, the same smirk still on his lips. You couldn’t help but keep your eyes locked on him. Hypnotized by him almost.
“Show wasn’t all for nothing,” Eddie shrugged “There was a scout in the crowd, got a heads up from Craig that someone was calling around looking to see when we were playing this weekend.”
Your eyes bugged out as you stared up at him, “You’re kidding? A scout?”
“Yeah, I don’t want to jinx it, so didn’t say anything before,”
“Eddie! That’s amazing!” You moved to wrap your arms around him, hugging him tightly. Eddie moved quickly to catch you, a laugh slipping through even with the cigarette between his lips. You leaned back away from Eddie, using his tall frame to stabilize yourself, as you looked up at him. “Don’t go forgettin’ me once you become big and famous.”
It was now Eddie’s turn to roll his eyes. He brought the two fingers holding the burnt-down cigarette to your lips, holding it for you as you took a drag. Your eyes stayed locked with his as he pulled it away slowly.
It amazed you how over the years you watched Eddie become more and more of the man that stood before you now. It wasn’t till middle school when the two of you met – right when he moved in with his Uncle Wayne and transferred to Hawkins Middle School. While the other kids exiled him and treated him like an outsider. You saw him as another friend.
The two of you grew close quickly, of course, with Sarah joining in the friendship. But the years passed, and he became more and more himself. Sophomore year was when you first noticed how beautiful he was to you. Then Junior year you fell hard. The first round of senior year for Eddie is when you fell harder and completely in love.
But now, now he was a man. Still with the long hair and dark clothes, more tattoos covering his skin than before. But now there was a ruggedness to him.
“Now how in the hell am I gonna forget my favorite girl, hmm?” Eddie asked.
“When you get all the groupies climbing all over ya,” You spoke, a frown pulling on the ends of your lips.
You pulled out of Eddie’s hold and stumbled back away from him, catching your footing before you fell.
You didn’t catch the way Eddie’s face fell as you moved out of his arms, missing the feeling of your body pressed against his. Cause like you, he was in love, bad. And too scared to speak a word of it.
Would whether have you as a friend than anything else.
“There’s not gonna be any groupies,” Eddie spoke, a slight hardness to his voice that you didn’t catch.
“Yes, there will.” You scoffed “Already gott’em now.”
“Well, I don’t give a shit about ‘em.” Eddie shrugged, throwing the end of his cigarette to the ground, and grinding his boot against it. “Now come on, let’s go and celebrate. It’s your birthday, sweetheart,”
Eddie reached forward and grabbed your hand tightly, lacing his fingers through yours and pulling you back into the building. The bar moved over to a radio blaring through the speakers. The front of the stage turned into a dancefloor, and when you two walked back out, you quickly spotted Sarah, Jeff, Garrett, and some others on the floor.
“Come on,” Eddie shouted over the music before pulling you onto the dance floor.
The rest of the night mostly moved like a blur of dancing, drinking, laughing, and having a good time with your friends. When 2 a.m. rolled around and it was closing time, you all piled into Eddie’s van. He’d stopped drinking hours before he’d be able to take most of you home. Jeff and Sarah leaving in a taxi a few minutes before the rest of you. Garrett was first before Eddie started towards Forest Hills Trailer Park.
“Come on, baby girl,” Eddie spoke as he helped you up the front steps of the trailer.
His arm was wrapped around your waist as he helped you inside, thankful Wayne was working an overnight shift as the two of you sloppily walked inside. The door closed behind him tightly as the two of you made it toward his bedroom. You let out a groan as your body slumped against the soft sheets of his bed.
A small, happy moan like noise came from you as you were surrounded by his scent. A musky, woodsy cologne mixed with cigarettes and a little Irish Spring.
Eddie couldn’t help but smile as he moved to kneel at your feet, working quickly to remove your boots and toss them off to the side. He walked over to his desk and opened one of the drawers, you had some makeup wipes and other things needed for when you slept over. Which, lately, was a lot with your parents arguing becoming more and more frequent.
Eddie grabbed the wipes, before moving to sit beside you, bringing your head to rest in his lap. Your eyes blinked up towards him, humming happily again as Eddie came into your view.
“Eddie,” You giggled with a slur.
“Hey baby,” Eddie laughed, working with removing the smudged makeup from your face and eyes. “Gotta get you cleaned up before bed.”
“Sleepin’ over?” You asked innocently.
“Of course,”
“Always take such good care of me, Eddie.” You spoke, your hand reaching up and caressing along his face gently, causing him to pause, “…such good care of me…”
“Why wouldn’t I?” He asked, his brows pulled together tightly.
You shrugged and closed your eyes, moving to nuzzle into him slightly, “I love you,”
“I love you too,” Eddie whispered softly,
“No…no…in love...you, Eddie,” You slurred, more so from sleep over taking your mind than the alcohol coursing through you.
But Eddie sat there dumbfounded with your head resting in his lap as you slept soundly.
AN: Hope you enjoyed the little flashback moment before we go back to the dark apocalyptic future. Wanted to give some backstory to the reader and Eddie's friendship pre-outbreak. People have been wondering why they weren't together when it happened - and that will be a chapter/conversation. So don't worry that question will be answered.
Please leave your thoughts and feelings in the chapter. Seeing comments make me smile and give me some motivation. Come chat in my ask box too! I love getting messages from readers since it doesn't happen often :)
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#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie x reader#eddie x you#eddie x female reader#eddie fanfic#eddie fanfiction#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson angst#eddie munson fluff#stranger things x reader#stranger things x you#stranger things fic#stranger things imagine#stranger things fanfic#joseph quinn x reader
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angel of the morning
Character/s: Bonten!Kakucho Hitto
Warnings: f!reader, sexual themes, violence, blood, guns, blades/knives, murder, fingering, manhandling, hair pulling, unprotected sex, gunplay, hard!dom Kakucho x sub!reader. Minors don't interact.
Synopsis: A handsome stranger walks in on you about to assassinate your target.
✃WC: 4.4k
Revenge served with a slit throat—the client was adamant on this single detail. How to get him drunk and vulnerable? Any means were possible. Where to dispose of his carcass afterward? As long as you didn't dump the body somewhere his unsuspecting pals wouldn't see, any area in the club will do. The more eye-catching it was, the better as long as you don't get caught.
But the method of killing was a dagger to the throat—nothing else or more extravagant. Said that the bastard needs to die a pathetic death and get ridiculed until his next life.
Frankly, you would've recommended the target dying during sex with his eyes and mouth agape. A picture for his friends and enemies to laugh about. What was more pathetic than a man who didn't even get to nut seconds prior to his soul leaving this earth?
However, you knew that won't get you the hundred thousand payment nor follow the client's wish which is against your work ethic as a renowned hitwoman.
The plan? Stick to the client's method, finish the job without a single hitch and get the fuck out.
You could only mutter a sort of prayer as you walked into the club.
Clad in a scandalous midnight blue dress and silver high heels, you slithered past the grinding bodies and drunken laughter. Neon lights blaring like sirens and the music's beat pulsing and bouncing against the thick walls of the club. The scent of spilled tequila, smoke, sweat, and drugs mingled in the damp air. Boisterous and wildly entertaining, the scene reminded you of all those frat parties back in college—one you missed due to how carefree it was back then... Back when you were an average woman who wasn't thrust into a life of death, blood, and everything foul to stay alive.
The good old days, as you called it.
Hand grabbing a drink by the bar where several alcoholic beverages were free for tonight's party, you took languid sips as you scanned the sea of unknown strangers dancing the night away. You hope to catch a glimpse of anyone close to the image of tonight's victim through colorful lights after having memorized his features throughout the day.
Shouldn't he be finished with his dealings by now? Who rents out a bar, throws a party, and doesn't show up at the beginning?
"Hey, pretty girl. I've never seen you here before..."
Offering a small smile at the obviously hammered man, you giggled sweetly. "Hi! Yeah, it's my first time here." Meaningless as it was to give the idiot the time of day, it didn't hurt to have someone to mess around with until you had to jump into action. No matter how many times you've taken someone's life, innocent or not, it always frazzled your nerves a bit. "Why'd you ask?"
He shrugged. "Nothing, I just find you interesting..." Leaving his almost empty glass of whiskey, he directed his undivided attention to your cleavage. Shamelessly running his gaze down to your bare legs. "It's not every day you find gorgeous babes like you in a club filled with cheap whores. It's... refreshing."
"I see."
"Do you want a better drink?" Gesturing to your rum and coke, he winked. "I know some drinks are free tonight, but the best ones aren't. Stingy, huh?" Without even waiting for your response, the stranger slurred at the bartender. "Black Calavera Noir 89.9, two shots for me and the lady. Put it on my tab."
Absinthe? You fought back a wince at the order. Is he looking to get blackout drunk?
Two shot glasses were then placed on the counter, one for you and the other for the grinning bastard who continued to ogle your breasts. Perhaps getting blackout drunk all by himself wasn't his motivation after all...
"Let's make a toast, pretty girl," he purred, lifting his own cup of poison at you. Following suit hesitantly, you cracked him a faint smile. "To new... beginnings and the promise of a great night."
A few seconds before you could take a sip of the strong liquor, the target made his grand entrance—not bothering to even blend in the crowd as he sauntered in with his three bodyguards.
Mentally cursing, you pulled the shot glass away from your lips and splashed it onto your dress instead.
"Oops, my bad," you laughed, the sticky liquid all over your fingers, skin, and dress. The man cursed, holding his dizzy head as he tried to helplessly wipe away the stray droplets from his face and shirt. "How clumsy of me! I should go and see if there are any napkins in the restroom, okay? I'll be right back."
Lies. You never went back nor proceeded down the path to the restroom.
Ruffling your hair, you smudged the red lipstick you carefully applied earlier while making your way towards your victim. As soon as you were a couple of feet away from bumping into him, you started to sway your hips—carefully dodging the real tipsy party animals to where he was. Now inches away from him, you threw yourself into his unsuspecting form.
To capture men and women alike was like catching fish. Your old mentor always reminded you of this, speaking as if she was an avid fan of fishing rather than a trained killer.
First, make sure your equipment is prepared. Tools always in perfect condition.
"Whoa! You okay, beautiful?" The middle-aged man known as Mr. Takato caught you, grinning at your performance.
Then, cast a bait. Colorful and tempting.
Giggling non-stop, you latched yourself onto his plump body, grinding against him thoughtlessly. His reaction was instant, hands wrapping themselves around your waist and bringing you closer. Nostrils breathing in the scent of absinthe on you, he chuckled. "You're quite intoxicated, aren't you?"
"N-no..." Voice humming lowly, you shook your head as you tried to maintain eye contact with him while your body swayed. "I'm not drunk, handsome... Just tipsy."
"Well, you're glad I caught you. Almost made out with the floor, huh?" he lightly chuckled, rubbing his disgusting hands on your back and to the curves of your hips. Beady eyes lingering on your chest. "Wouldn't want a pretty baby embarrassing herself now, do we?"
The fish may seem hesitant, testing the bait and seeing if it's nonthreatening. Sometimes, the fish gets too smart and swims away.
You can't expect to catch a big fish if you aren't prepared to lose something, either. But don't give up.
Wait.
"No..." you whispered against his lips, arms now around his neck as you pulled. "I've been drinking. Been drinking my loneliness away because no one seems to give me a good time." Arching your brow suggestively, you smirked. "What about you, handsome? Can you guarantee me a good one tonight?"
Because if you catch it, your win will be even more rewarding than easy prey.
"Meet me upstairs, princess." His obnoxious breath almost knocked you out, fighting the urge to make a disgusted face. Whatever he ate for dinner sure had lots of onion and garlic. "I'll show you a great time, one your pretty pussy will never forget."
And once it's attached, reel it in.
"Nice..." Licking your lips, you pressed a sloppy kiss on his cheek. It took everything for you to quell down the gagging expression about to surface. "Let me freshen up for a moment and I'll see you up there then, daddy."
Hook, line, and the fucking sinker.
The target, a middle-aged man who spent most of his time wasting his money in pointless parties and whores, was a local firearms dealer—dumb enough to get entangled and mess with the wrong crowd. Should've thought twice than to run and pretend he didn't fuck up their deal. Your current employer was quite livid, but too much of a coward to get his hands dirty.
Steely eyes watching him disappear into the crowd and up the stairs, you exhaled deeply.
A drink. You figured you needed one before rejoining the bastard up the VIP lounge and possibly to the bedrooms where he will most certainly bring you to. Heading back to the bar, you sighed in relief when the idiot wasn't there anymore to bother you.
Instead, a dark-haired man sat by the stool while holding a glass of what seemed to be bourbon. A scar ran down the left side of his face and his silver eye. Despite how it seemed awful, the scar made his attractive face even more appealing to which you couldn't explain why. The mismatched irises flickered to you for a moment then back to his drink.
Biting back a disappointed groan, you diverted your gaze away. Silently wishing the target was as hot and shrouded by mystery as him.
Paying no heed to the stranger, you took a free glass of margarita and downed the content in one go. In fact, you probably need even more considering who you were about to entertain but getting inebriated would most certainly affect your job.
"Rough night?"
Eyes blinking at the question, you turned to the stranger next to you. A bit shocked that he spoke considering how he had the aura of wanting to be left alone.
"You won't be able to imagine how bad it's about to be," you responded, placing the empty cocktail glass on the counter and shooting him a grin. He went rigid at the genuineness of it. The taste of the drink buzzing around your taste buds and the back of your throat. "But thanks for asking."
With the confidence of a vengeful soul, you made your way through the crowd and up the stairs. The beat of the music dropped at the same second your genuine smile for the first time tonight disappeared without a trace.
Everything happened all too fast akin to a hurricane whirling around, causing its damage without care. The same characteristic in this bastard's open-mouthed kisses that peppered your breasts as you laid underneath him, half-naked as the top of your dress pulled down. Heels dangling at the edge of the bed. He was like an impatient child on Christmas day, not bothering to unwrap his gift fully to gaze on it. The sheets ruffled due to his excessive caresses and hunger to taste you, mind too far gone to care about your judgemental stare as you waited.
You waited for the right moment to knock the maniac out without alerting his ever-loyal bodyguards stationed right by the door and hear him struggle.
"Pretty, pretty girly..." he purred, failing to see the grossed-out face you made as he buried himself deeper into the valley of your breasts pooling out of your bra. Nearly crushing you with his weight. "Fucking lucky to have you, all mine to fuck," he drawled drunkenly because of the countless glasses of liquor you drowned him in while pretending to be equally intoxicated.
Too wrapped up with the idea of helpless, naive you—sprawled up and ready for his taking.
"Gorgeous and all mine, right?" he hummed, lifting his head up, and lowered his hands. Just when he was about to rip your black bra off of you, your hands shot up from the sides to stop him. All the while smiling ear to ear, dropping the act of a defenseless drunk girl.
"All yours? I fucking doubt it."
A hard blow to his nape caused the trusting Mr. Takato to fall flat on the mattress. Knocked out cold.
Gagging at how close his face was, you pushed him off of you and straddled his unconscious body. Taking the sharp dagger you've hidden perfectly out of its holster strapped to your thigh, you raised it to the air, ready to deal a fatal jab when you felt something cold against the back of your head. Eyes wide and heart pounding against your ears.
"Move out of the way if you don't want to get hurt."
Wait, isn't that—
"Oh. It's you." Glancing away from your victim to the man behind, you huffed. The mysterious stranger by the bar now stood there, pointing his gun at you with menacingly cold eyes. "You're here to kill him too? Lucky fucker." The laugh you elicited caused a shiver to run down the scarred man's back, still holding the gun against your head. He didn't expect you to do this, nor be so calm about it. "So, you're a contract killer, too?"
"No," he replied, lowering his gun once he read the situation. "If you paid more attention to your surroundings, you'd know this bar is run by Bonten." Form stilling at the mention of the infamous gang rampaging in the dark, you knew better than to cross them. Let alone be under their radar. "And you're obviously interfering with what I came here to do."
"Interfering? How so?" You slid the dagger on the unlucky man's throat, blood splattered the sheets and on your face. Smirking, you then turned to the handsome stranger once more. Pretty face all bloodied. "If anything, I just finished the job for you. Maybe you should congratulate me instead!"
The scarred man sighed, shaking his head at the dead man sprawled half-naked on the mattress as you climbed off the bed. Your mission now was to clean your face and leave. Finding a box of tissues, you began to wipe away the stains and grinned at your work.
Your employer was right. It was indeed a pathetic sight for a firearms dealer to die by a blade.
"Who are you working for?"
"You know very well that I won't answer that," you chuckled, pulling your dress up to cover yourself. The stranger, now only noticing you were in an indecent appearance, coughed and found the floor more interesting. "Besides, you're working for Bonten, correct? Maybe you'll find out tomorrow. My employer would certainly gloat about it."
Your attention was suddenly shifted to the sound of gunshots outside and screaming, ripping away the stranger's response as he took note of it too. Meeting the scarred man's gaze, you tilted your head at him in wonder.
"Wait, how did you get through that door anyway? What did you do to the guards?"
"The same thing you did to Mr. Takato," the Bonten member answered while gesturing at the dead man. "I took care of them silently."
Grabbing his hand without much thought, you pulled him to the door. The scarred man followed behind you, putting up no fight. You were no threat and you indeed took care of his job as you stated a while ago.
"Well, your efforts are in vain now that his crew noticed. You said Bonten owns this bar, right? Where's the nearest exit?" Eyes peeking through the door, you whistled at the bodyguards now lying on the floor. "You really took care of them, huh... You'll be a good hitman."
"I'd... rather not be."
"What's your name?" Your inquiry caught him off guard, blinking down at your curious expression. Everything was truly peculiar but at the same time, saddened him. You, a beautiful creature in a world meant for the nasty and vile souls—killing people to survive didn't sit right with him. Especially since you seemed good at it.
"Kakucho."
"I'm [Y/N]," you giggled softly before pointing down the hall, the sound of gunshots growing nearer. "So, Kakucho..." His name felt good against your tongue, liking it. "Where do we go now? If we get caught, we won't only be dealing with Mr. Takato's men but our superior's anger. You don't want to get caught now, do you?"
Fate was certainly playing its usual jokes because the moment Kakucho led the way, Mr. Takato's men burst through the doors and flooded the hallway. The bastard's men opened the rest of the rooms, earning high-pitched screams from the women pleasuring their patrons. Thinking fast, you pulled Kakucho to one of the vacant rooms and shut the door.
He sighed.
"Follow me, I know the way."
"Wha—"
"Kiss me." Pulling him by the lapels of his coat, your eyes shifted between Kakucho and the door. The footsteps growing nearer caused your heart to throb in panic. Right now, putting on a show was all you could think of. Anything to convince those men that you and he had nothing to do with the death of Mr. Takato. "Kakucho, do it."
"Huh?"
Fuck it.
"Just kiss me, you fool," you hissed, crashing your lips with his. Kakucho, caught off guard, stood frozen but then started reciprocating at your sweet taste in his mouth. Hands roam your waist and back, finding comfort in your warmth and soft mewls due to his teeth biting your lower lip.
"K-Kakucho—"
He hushed you, giving in to his desire at wanting to have you. Ever since he saw you walk up to the bar, midnight blue and silver gleaming under the led lights, he never encountered such an impulse. He was never one to entertain his temptations, knowing better than to end up like his colleagues. But the second you kissed him, every rational bone in his body trembled at your passion and lust. Even when he saw you slit a man's throat, it only fueled his attraction to your ephemeral aura. He had to be honest to himself.
Kakucho wants you.
Bad.
Kisses searing, you gasped when your back hit the wall, legs around his waist. Moonlight guiding Kakucho's hands pulling, almost clawing, your dress off in the darkness of the room. The material met the ground as he nibbled on your earlobe, rutting against your clothed pussy. And fuck, he was rock hard. The tent of his pants was hard to ignore and you wanted nothing more than to touch it, have it inside your pussy and stretch it deliciously. To have it fill you to the brim and have his cum ooze out of your abused cunt. The image of it was enough to have your pussy squeezing around nothing.
Kakucho's fingers were pulling your lace underwear down, mind reeling at how wet you were when the doors burst open. Letting out a scripted shriek, you buried your face into Kakucho's still-clothed chest to hide. Nose inhaling the scent of his faint cologne and sweat mingling with it. The Bonten member refused to move, still pinning you against the wall as he glanced at Mr. Takato’s men, the light flooding into the room accentuated the frustration in his narrowed eyes.
“What do you want?”
"S-sir, did you see anyone suspic—”
“Do you think I’d be paying attention elsewhere when I’m fucking my woman?” You bit back a mewl when one of his digits entered your cunt, and then another one. Thick fingers scissoring the tight muscles, Kakucho continued to glare at the men as if he wasn’t in the middle of fingering you. “Now fuck off while I’m still being nice.”
One of the men foolishly tried to step in, probably about to reason out. Kakucho’s fingers then slipped out of you to touch his gun hidden in its holster, preparing to pull it out and shoot the fucker when the other pulled his companion back.
“Sorry about that, Sir. C-continue on with your evening.”
As soon as the men left with flustered expressions and their lower regions aching, Kakucho wasted no time hoisting you up, carrying you over his shoulder, and throwing you to the bed. You squeaked, the rest of your moans drowned by his kiss and tongue. Kakucho removed the rest of his clothing and yours, throwing them like a used napkin, and proceeded to pin you against the mattress. Mewling at the sheer strength of Kakucho and the sight of his chest, you reached up to cup his cheek. Pupils close to turning black in hunger.
"Fuck me, Kakucho," you pleaded with a sob, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes as you clung to him. "I want you inside me.”
Such a wish was granted in mere minutes. Kakucho pistoning his hips rapidly, one hand pulling your hair while the other pinned you against the mattress with your back to him. Sobs and choked moans belonging to you filled the air as he fucked you hard and good. His thick cock stretching your glistening pussy from your arousal, promising you the inability to walk in the morning. This was what you wanted—to be railed by a hot stranger who hit your sweet spot with every fucking thrust.
“Fuck, be quiet...” he muttered at the sight of you moaning shamelessly into the air. You failed to hear his words, the ecstacy getting to your head and thinking nothing but Kakucho’s cock impaling you. “I said be quiet.”
His gun was then shoved into your mouth, causing you to gasp aloud but the gun’s barrel muffled your confused cries that morphed into more whines as Kakucho resumed his thrusting. Your knees now hurting from being in this position for too long.
And even though he denied countless times that he was different from the rest of the crazed executives Bonten had at its disposal, the sight of you biting down on his gun made his dick twitch.
"S-shit. Cum, pretty baby," Kakucho almost roared, flipping you without warning. His eyes squeezed shut when your walls clenched around him tightly. "Cum for me, fuck. Let me see you cum around my cock." Taking his gun off of your sore lips, he set it gently next to your quivering body. “Let me hear you.”
You screamed at the overwhelming feeling, a clear white light flashed in your eyes as you climaxed. Nails digging half-moon prints on his back, gummy muscles bent on milking his thick cock dry. The sight of your face as you creamed around him was enough to drive his insane. Kakucho painfully moaned, pulling out just in time and cumming on your stomach. He then buried his face into the crook of your neck where your pulse was throbbing erratically, groaning lowly in satisfaction.
A police siren snapped both of you out of the blissful atmosphere, causing you to sigh in disappointment and frustration.
"Perhaps we should move to somewhere more private?" Kakucho suggested, knowing all too well that some of his colleagues were probably in the area to his rescue. The last thing he want was for them to call him out for sleeping around while on the job. Plus, he wanted to spend more time with you. "A hotel?"
You smiled, dipping a finger to the cum still on your stomach and popping it into your mouth. Kakucho's eye darkened, feeling his dick twitch and harden again. The urge to shove his cock into your mouth and fuck it until your voice was hoarse was truly enticing.
"Lead the way, hotshot."
"If you think you can leave without me noticing, think again."
You paused your attempt to tip-toe to your dress, a curse slipped past your lips. Last night was indeed amazing for you and probably the best sex since sleeping with men you were contracted to kill. But you weren't used to greeting those men in the morning, let alone alive. You wanted to save yourself from the awkward situation you were in right now.
Yet, Kakucho had different plans. You slipping past his fingers would be the biggest mistake of his life and he won’t allow that to happen.
Turning back to the bed where Kakucho was, you averted your gaze from his delectable pectorals and kept your eyes on his. The sight of the hanafuda tattoo on his chest brought back images of you licking it last night which made your cheeks burn. Vivid pictures of Kakucho fucking you in different positions throughout the night almost frying your brain. Even with a blanket wrapped around your bare form, you still felt naked under his eye.
Under the warm sunlight streaming through the ceiling to floor windows, he appeared softer and more... human. Scars, big and small, littered his skin like stars. Old and fresh wounds etched on his flesh like paint on a blank canvas. And Kakucho saw the same as he laid his eye on your body. Lips desiring to kiss every scar, every past and present wound—wishing for the lingering pain to go away.
"You were awake this whole time?"
"I'm... a light sleeper."
You snickered at his confession, "Well, considering what you do, I won't be surprised." To pretend he wasn't there staring as if you were an artwork was hard as you got dressed. You still had to report to your employer how you aced the job.
"Work for Bonten."
Your eyes grew wide at the proposition thrown at you without warning.
"W-what?"
"I said work for Bonten," Kakucho repeated, rising from the bed. All his glory is now visible under your naked eye, reminding you of where your tongue ran against his skin last night. Marks littered on his chest and neck courtesy of you. "Bonten could offer you more. More than any of the jobs you can ever take. Plus, it's consistent and will provide you protection."
"That depends..." Pulling up your dress, you then turned your back against him. Pointing at the zipper, you continued. "Zip me up and I'll tell you my terms. If you’re alright with it, then it’s a deal."
Rough pads grazed your sensitive flesh as he zipped your dress up, obviously taking his time as he stared at the love bites he left on your nape. Kakucho licked the front of his teeth, reminiscing the touch of your supple skin and how you tasted. He would certainly get addicted. The moment he was finished, he kissed your bare shoulder.
"Your terms, [Y/N]?"
"I'll work for you, not for Bonten." Clarifying your statement, you spun to face him with a teasing wink. “And before you say anything more—what kind of work exactly? Is it strictly killing or having sex—"
“We shall discuss this more later,” Kakucho interjected, the tips of his ears giving away his embarrassment. Hearing you giggle while rambling how you wanted to spend today eating delicious food, he couldn’t help but picture you as an angel under the soft morning light. An angel, you were indeed—charming him at first sight that night. An angel, be it of love or death—Kakucho would take your every form.
He'd be stupid to even think about letting you go.
🎐taglist: @haruphilia @thesimpsclub @wakaslut
#pat.✍️fics#tokyo revengers smut#tokrev smut#bonten kakucho#kakucho hitto x reader#kakucho hitto#kakucho smut#tokyorev x reader#kakucho x reader#tw.manhandling#tw.murder#tw.unprotected sex#tw.gunplay
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Drunk In Love // Abner Krill x GenderNeutral!Reader
Abner Krill x GenderNeutral!Reader - Short Story
REQUESTED BY: @jay-cosplay-bin
A/N - hi there! this is my first request story. Definitely shorter than my usual 2K+ stories, but i think this turned out pretty good. I'm keeping requests open for a little while longer, but I have a LOT of requests so I may close soon. If you submitted a request i will 100% get to it. thanks for the immeasurable support!
~ You've had some undisclosed feelings for Abner, and you've been wondering if he feels the same. You plan on asking him, but his feelings decide to come out differently. ~
NSFW TAGS : mutual pining, drinking, awkward convo, clubbing, taking shots, minor angst
WORD COUNT : 1K
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
You and Abner had been having some tension during the mission to Corto Maltese. Brushing hands, bumping into each other. You noticed that he seems to blush any time you touch him or look at him. The group was barely into the mission, and you had started to develop feelings for him.
That was really your famous thing. Applying for Task Force X, falling in love with one of the members of your team, and then they die. Every. Single. Time. The inmates laughed at you for it. You HATE that it’s become your schtick, but whatever. It stung, but each time it gets a little easier.
You hate to admit it, but Ab felt different. A different… but good… feeling came over you when you looked at him. Something about his tall lanky body, his black floppy hair, and beautiful sad brown eyes… you almost hated him for it. He wasn’t supposed to make you want him like this. Why did he have to be different? Why did ANYONE have to be different?
Whatever. It was too much to unpack during a mission, so you figure it’d be best to just brush it off as best you can until the mission is over. If he stayed alive it would be a miracle. He’d probably be your fucking soulmate or something.
Probably the best time to snap back to reality. You guys are on the bus ride, on the way to some dumb strip club to find Grieves. Abner is sitting behind you on the bus, looking solemnly out the window. It made you so sad when he looked like that. He was lost in his mind, deep in thought about something. Perhaps reliving something. You couldn’t tell.
His eyes meet yours, and for just a moment, the sadness went away. His puppy dog eyes lit up, and the corners of his mouth cracked into a small smile. His cheeks turned a rosy pink.
Your heart skips a beat. Your chest tightens up and you have to look away when you crack a smile. Holy shit, you think to yourself. You have to tone this shit down. You can’t get ahead of yourself, he could fucking die, what would you do then? The thought of him possibly dying makes your throat constrict and you have to push the thought out of your head before you get emotional.
You get off the bus and make your way inside the club, sitting down at a booth. Rick orders a couple rounds of shots for everyone. The hot tequila burns your throat wildly, but you love the feeling. You look at Ab sitting across from you, and he takes his shot like you did, swiftly and with no hesitation. He starts coughing, and everyone around the table laughs at him.
You can’t help but giggle, you know he was trying to impress you. Even though it was a failed attempt, it was so cute. The way he tried to do something just like you did, but fumbling a little. It was so goddamn cute.
You take a few more shots, Abner follows but with more ease than the first time. He’s starting to loosen up a little. His shoulders aren’t as tense, he’s not moving so stiffly. He’s laughing a little bit more, and he doesn’t seem so lost in himself like usual.
Everyone leaves the booth single file and moves to the dance floor. As you begin to dance, you feel the alcohol swiftly coursing through your veins. The lights are blurring, everything’s moving so slowly.
Someone bumps into you from behind. It’s Abner.
“Ahh-hah- shit… s-sorry…” He smiles with a toothy grin. Jesus, he’s so drunk. His speech is so slurred, you can barely make out what he’s saying. His lips are moving, you heard him say sorry, but everything else is jumbled. Whatever he’s saying, he’s pretty excited about it.
“What??” You yell over the music.
He sighs dramatically. “I SAID… y-you are just absolutely ammmAAZing. I c-cant stop thinking ‘bout you since we started our mission, and I am so… Ahh…”
You swallow. Shit. Is what he’s saying true? Does he really think that?”
“So what? You’re so what??”
“... D-drunk.”
You both bust out with laughter. You fall into him and breathe in. You get a whiff of his cologne and you feel an ache in your core. He smells so fucking good.
His arms wrap around your waist and your center tightens even more. Holy shit. This is happening. It’s really happening.
You look up at him.
Abner looks at you as if you are the only person in the world. He doesn’t want anything else except you. There is nothing else here but YOU.
His lips slightly part, and he bends down. You bite you lip out of nervousness.
Fuck it.
You grab his face and quickly meet his lips with yours. His eyes widen, but then fall closed soon after.
This was pure bliss. Electricity was coursing through your body. Every nerve was burning with desire. Your stomach was on fire, yearning for more. You wanted him so badly, more than you’ve ever wanted anyone in your whole life. Kissing someone never felt like this. Was it always supposed to feel like this?
The alcohol was heavy on his breath as his tongue explored your mouth. He was intoxicating. You needed more. So much more.
By the same token, he was entranced by you. He didn’t have a care in the world but you. He felt a primal urge to protect you and shield you. To mark you up and show the whole world that you were gonna be his. Forever.
"I love y-you..." he whispered into your ear, making your whole body shiver.
God fucking dammit. This was gonna be a problem.
#short story#abner#abner krill#abner krill fanfiction#david dastmalchian#dastmalchian#polkadot man#polka dot man#the suicide squad fanfiction#polka dot man x reader#gender neutral reader
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Undercover || Stucky
Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader x Bucky Barnes; The reader is Bucky and Steve’s girlfriend.
Summary: Despite their protests, Y/N goes undercover during a mission, leaving her boys astonished nonetheless.
Genre: Random
Written in third person point of view.
Warnings: Mentions of killing, mild arguing, sexual innuendos, sad Bucky (if you squint), mild language, and me using Google Translate for French dialogue :)
Word count: 2.5k+ (with translations); 2.4k+ (without translations)
A/N: I wasn’t sure as to whether or not I should put smut in it but let me know if you guys want a part two with smut! Divider made by yours truly 😌
“You’re not going and that’s final.”
Once in a blue moon was Bucky stern with Y/N, tonight being one of those blue moons. Y/N fought and fought and fought. She wasn’t a little kid, most certainly not his, and she thought that she was making that clear. Same with Steve. It was beyond infuriating, having the two constantly babying her.
“I am going to complete that mission and you can’t stop me. Nor can you.”
She looked at Steve who seethed of irritation, big arms bulking out of the tiny black tee. As Bucky opened his mouth to protest yet again, Steve stopped him.
“Let her go. She wants to do it, so let her do it.”
He kept his eyes on her the entire time, stalking her like a predator.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if I found you in pieces,” he grumbled, crotch pressed right up to her behind with his nose nuzzled into her hair.
She scoffed, elbowing him in the ribcage before proceeding to pack her clothes. He simply chuckled, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to his chest once again.
“If that’s how you plan on taking anyone down that isn’t me, consider yourself dead.”
She looked back at him, eyebrows furrowing as she forced herself out of Steve’s grip.
“That’s what this about it, isn’t it? You don’t think I’m strong enough to actually anyone down.”
“No-”
“That’s exactly why you don’t want me to go!”
“We don’t want anything bad to happen to you,” Bucky interjected, looking back and forth between his two lovers.
“I don’t need either of you to watch over me like a fucking child and that’s the last time I’m reminding you,” she spoke quickly and quietly, packing the remainder of her clothing into her suitcase before zipping it up. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be on my way.”
“The mission isn’t until tom-”
“I didn’t ask you,” she sung, making her way up to Nat’s floor.
“And then Steve goes ‘if that’s how you plan on taking anyone down that isn’t me, consider yourself dead,’” she quoted Steve, deepening her voice to her best ability to mock the captain. “And then Bucky has the audacity to deny it, like, dude, I know that you’re undermining my skills!”
Natasha was dying of laughter as Y/N recited the quarrel she had found herself in with Steve and Bucky. She eased up, face red and cheeks aching as she held onto her stomach.
“Oh, jeez,” she muttered, shaking her head as she felt the laughter dying down. “I mean...it’s unbelievable. I can’t believe they still do that even after being with you for over two years. Hell, what do I know? I’ve been on and off with Clint for plenty of years and I have to yell at him for being so protective over me.”
She couldn’t help but smile at the thought of her own relationship, reflecting on the many times that she’s actually scolded Clint for babying her. He may act like a hardass around the crew, but he was far from that - he was a huge softy for Natasha.
“Thanks for letting me stay up here with you, though. I probably would’ve ended up killing them if I spent another second in there,” Y/N giggled, placing her suitcase in a corner that wouldn’t disrupt anything of Nat’s.
“Anytime,” she started, offering a lopsided smile. “Besides, we haven’t had girl time alone in forever.”
Girl time suddenly became girl time including Bucky. He was there for all of the movie-watching, doing facemasks with them, painting their nails. As much as the two girls loved Bucky with all of their hearts, they couldn’t just let loose. Natasha had to bite her tongue down to refrain from gossiping so many times just because Bucky was there.
If he heard half of the things that they spoke about, not even the latest gossip, he would more than likely be traumatized. So kicking back with Natasha, they whipped out nail kits and face masks, Nat’s huge collection of snacks, and they picked The Notebook, getting ready to spill all of the tea and unleash their younger selves for the first time in months.
Not even one full night into staying with Natasha that they were brought out of their zone, a sturdy, rhythmic knock on the door, bringing Nat to her feet.
“Don’t die,” Y/N called after her, throwing her arm over the armrest, eyes pasted to the screen.
“Natasha, I’m not stupid. I can literally smell her, she’s sitting in the living room.”
Y/N rolled her eyes, the sound of Bucky’s voice causing her to stand up from her seat and go over to the door.
“What do you want, Buck?”
“You. Come back to the room please, we’re sorry.”
“I don’t see Steve anywhere, so, you’re sorry. Bucky, go to bed, it’s late. I’ll see you on Thursday.”
Nat watched as Y/N closed the door on him, his entire demeanor slumped.
“Don’t sleep in front of the door either.”
She wasn’t going to lie, she felt guilty dismissing Bucky, but she wasn’t giving in to either of them that fast.
Her night spent with Nat had flown by within the blink of an eye, the two girls using the power in their legs to travel up the ramp into the Quinjet. Y/N took a seat next to Nat, smiling at Sam who sat directly across from her.
“Not sitting with your lovestruck puppies?” Sam snickered, looking to his right to see them coming up the ramp. “Speaking of the devils.”
She chuckled as she shook her head. Her eyes followed Sam’s, the red rimming of Bucky’s eye bags notable. He didn’t sleep…just because she wasn’t there.
“You’re staring,” Nat muttered, gently kicking the back of Y/N’s heel with the tip of her boot.
Y/N smiled up at Bruce, who took the free seat to her left. She didn’t miss the deadly glare from Steve, shaking it off as she began to buckle herself in. The flight was quick as per usual, landing in Paris, France, in only a couple of hours. Nat couldn’t wait another second on the jet before taking off, running to the facility at which they were staying at.
“Holy shit, that’s ours?” Y/N asked, jaw hung open from pure amazement as they stood in front of the primarily glass-made building.
There were many floors to it, way more than their home base in New York. She gratefully pounced on Tony as he handed her the key to her own floor.
“Enjoy cause you won’t have it when we go back to New York,” he awkwardly pat her back, her arms becoming loose around his neck as she forgot who she was hugging for a moment.
She was so excited. Not only did she have her own privacy, but she was able to stay away from Bucky and Steve. As much as she wanted to see them, she wouldn’t break easily since she wasn’t sharing a floor with them.
Hours passed, dusk was finally closing in on them, signaling them to get ready for their mission. This was her first mission in months so it was nerve-wracking, putting the bullet-proof vest right below her button-up and slipping her feet into a pair of high heels, a garter with a knife strapped right around her thigh, nearly invisible underneath her skirt. The sound of heels clacking on the floor drew her attention from the floor-to-ceiling window in the living room.
“Are we going to a fucking seminar or a nightclub? Don’t get me wrong, you look hot, but you look like you’re ready to give a two-hour lecture.”
Y/N gasped, feigning pain as she placed her hand over her chest.
“What, it’s formal-“
“We’re going to a nightclub, not a class. You need to fit in, and I have just the thing.”
“Nat-“
“No, don’t ‘Nat’ me,” Natasha lampooned, spinning on her heels before leaving Y/N’s floor, hurrying down to her own.
She came back in less than five minutes, bunched up white fabric draped over her forearm.
“You, my friend, are going to look stunning in this. It’ll also catch the attention of your soldiers,” she added with a wink.
She in fact did look stunning in that dress. A white maxi dress with a large slit coming up to the front side of her right hip, straps keeping the dress up just off her shoulders.
“Nat, one blow of breeze and my entire vagina is exposed to French people at a nightclub.”
“Good.”
Y/N left on her strappy black heels, the straps wrapping all the way up to the skin just around the middle of her calves. They were at the club in no time, sweaty bodies, the stickiness of spilled drinks, and booming music filling the environment. The dress in fact was an eye-catcher, everyone whipping their heads around to look at Y/N. She looked like a goddess and anyone would be willing to fall at her feet, especially Bucky and Steve.
“Anyone got eyes on the target yet?”
She was dragged out of her thoughts by Stark’s voice muffled through the earpiece stuffed into her ear.
“Negative,” everyone mumbled.
Their eyes danced around the crowds, looking for none other than Georges Batroc. The clock was ticking and no sight of the man. As they waited out any chance to find him, they sipped on drinks, danced with many strangers as well as each other. Y/N’s eyes were as sharp as daggers, dodging each person until she was looking directly at the blue-eyed monster.
“Bingo,” she muttered.
She scrambled for her earpiece, holding down on the black piece that was discreetly clipped to the strap of her dress.
“I have eyes on the target. I’m moving in.”
“Be careful.”
It was Bucky. She smiled at the sound of his voice, tucking the black piece right under the fabric of her dress strap. She walked over to him confidently, chest puffed out to expose a little more cleavage as her legs stealthily moved over to the man leaning against the bar. That sick son of a bitch.
“Bonsoir, monsieur,” she greeted with a pleasant smile.
[Good evening, sir.]
“Bonsoir, colombe.”
[Good evening, dove.]
She pretended to grow flustered at the nickname, looking down at her feet. She swirled the drink in her hand before taking a tiny sip, leaning against the bar right next to Georges.
“Parlez vous anglais?”
[Do you speak English?]
“Pas beaucoup.”
[A little.]
“Ah. Je t'ai vu là-bas et ça m'intéressait...un homme élégant, tout seul. Je devais venir.”
[I saw you over there and I was interested...a smart-looking man standing all alone. I had to come over.]
“Tu es trop précieuse, colombe. Now, what do you really need? J'ai vu vos petits amis s'occuper de moi aussi.”
[You’re too precious, dove. I saw your little friends looking out for me too.]
“Vraiment un homme intelligent, non?” she paused, her eyes locking with Steve’s. “Ils pourraient facilement vous déchirer directement du trou du cul et vous laisser crier à l'aide, mais ce sont de bonnes personnes. Nous ne cherchons que des fils de putes comme vous. Alors donnez-nous ce dont nous avons besoin ou nous le ferons à la dure.”
[Indeed a smart man, aye? They could easily rip you apart right from the asshole and leave you crying out for help but they're good people. We only go after sons of bitches like you. So give us what we need or we'll do this the hard way.]
“C'est ce que tu veux?”
[This what you want?]
“You know damn well that that’s what I want,” she said through a fake chuckle as he held a silver key right above her head.
“Demandez-le gentiment.”
[Ask for it nicely.]
She scoffed, “Qu'es-tu? Mon père?”
[What are you? My father?]
He chuckled at her snarky remark, his hand remaining above her head.
“Ask for it.”
“Je suis un agent. Pas un super-héros. Ça ne me pas d'avoir un peu de sang sur mes mains, chérie.”
[I'm an agent. Not a superhero. I don't mind getting a little blood on my hands, honey.]
“Pas si je mets ton sang sur mes mains en premier.”
[Not if I get your blood on my hands first.]
“Bien essayé.”
[Nice try.]
Those were the last words she said to him before exposing her thigh, pulling the knife from under her garter, and sending it straight through the skin hovering over his jugular vein. She watched as the blood seeped out of his neck, creating a deep wound in his neck as she dragged her knife down, almost as if she were cutting through a piece of meat, which she technically was. She gave him a knee to the sack before snatching the keys from in between his fingertips.
“Fais de beaux rêves, homme intelligent.”
[Sweet dreams, smart man.]
She winked as his figure slowly dropped to the ground, his hands tight around his throat to succumb to the bleeding. She looked around, seeing bodyguards, most likely his, making their way over to him. She fled into the crowd, a pair of hands falling onto her hips before spinning her around.
“That was so fucking hot,” Steve whispered, ferociously kissing her as if he would never get to do so again.
Her bloodied hand left a trace over Steve’s chest, clad in a tight white button-up. Her hands felt up on his skin, slipping the keys into his back pocket as their tongues continued to dance around each other.
“Y/N? Y/N? Why are you breathing so heavy? Oh my god, is she dead?”
She pulled away from Steve, tugging his bottom lip between her teeth.
“No, Stark. I’m not dead. I got the key to the chamber and I killed the bitch.”
“You killed him!?”
She walked hand in hand with Steve, his muscular figure trailing behind her. She was attacked with hugs almost immediately, Nat rambling about how good Y/N did.
“And she speaks French!? Why did I not know this!?” Sam asked, agreeing with Nat as to how amazing Y/N performed.
Y/N was overjoyed. Back on her first mission and she did it, leaving unscathed. She looked around, Bucky leaning against a booth with one arm in his pocket and the other holding a drink, most likely his metal arm as a sliver of it peeked from under his leather jacket. She let go of Steve’s hand for a moment, shimmying past anyone in her way over to the super soldier.
Her hands rested on either side of his neck as his fell to her behind. He tasted like fresh whiskey, his tongue rolling into her mouth, their lips creating a sloppy mess. Their teeth clashed as Y/N’s arms engulfed Bucky’s head, fingers getting lost in his near-shoulder length hair as he hoisted one leg above his hip. Flipping them around so she was being pressed up against the wooden divider of the booth, his thumb circled her hip, completely exposing her right leg as it snuck past the large slit.
“Fuck, hearing you speak French does some shit to me.”
“Ramène-moi dans ta chambre et baise-moi stupide.”
[Take me back to your room and fuck me stupid.]
“Gladly, dove.”
The voice in both her and Bucky’s ears caused them to look back, Steve nodding his head in the direction of the door.
Taglist: @ronbrokemyheart @quxxnxfhxll @eunoia-kth @siriuslyslyslytherin @dracomalfoys-wh0re @rudypankowisdaddy
#steve rogers#bucky barnes#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x y/n#steve rogers x you#steve rogers imagine#steve rogers imagines#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes imagines#stucky x reader#stucky x you#stucky x y/n#stucky imagine#stucky imagines#steve rogers x bucky barnes#bucky barnes x steve rogers
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Lucien Vanserra Sass Appreciation Post
For more serious Lucien content see my other posts:
What the fuck is happening in the Autumn Court series Part 1 (Eris) and Part 2 (Lady of the Autumn Court)
What stories are left: Lucien
When Lucien introduces himself:
"Lucien," my captor said quietly, the name echoing with a hint of a snarl. "Behave."
Lucien went rigid, but he hopped off the edge of the table and bowed deeply to me. "My apologies, lady." Another joke at my expense. "I'm Lucien. Courtier and emissary." He gestured to me with a flourish. "Your eyes are like stars, and your hair like burnished gold."
When Lucien is intrigued by Feyre:
"Well," Lucien said, his remaining russet eye fixed on me, "you don't look half as bad now. A relief, I suppose, since you're to live with us. Though the tunic isn't as pretty as a dress."
When Lucien wants to know if Feyre thinks he's hot:
"Thank you for the meal," I said. It was all I could think of.
"Won't you stay for wine?" Lucien said with sweet venom from where he lounged in his seat.
I braced my hands on my chair to rise. "I'm tired. I'd like to sleep."
"It's been a few decades since I last saw one of you," Lucien drawled, "but you humans never change, so I don't think I'm wrong in asking why you find our company to be so unpleasant, when surely the men back home aren't much to look at."
At the other end of the table, Tamlin gave his emissary a long, warning look. Lucien ignored it.
"You're High Fae," I said tightly. "I'd ask why you'd even bother inviting me here at all-or dining with me." Fool-I really should have been killed ten times over already.
Lucien said, "True. But indulge me: you're a human woman, and yet you'd rather eat hot coals than sit here longer than necessary. Ignoring this"-he waved a hand at the metal eye and brutal scar on his face-"surely we're not so miserable to look at."
When Feyre leaves their first dinner together:
He gave a distant nod and motioned for me to leave. Dismissed. Like the lowly human I was. Lucien propped his chin on a fist and gave me a lazy half smile.
Enough. I got to my feet and backed toward the door. Putting my back to them would have been like walking away from a wolf, sparing my life or no. They said nothing when I slipped out the door.
A moment later, Lucien's barking laugh echoed into the halls, followed by a sharp, vicious growl that shut him up.
When Lucien notices Feyre checking him out:
Lucien paused, and I found him smirking at me, making the scar even more brutal. "Were you admiring my sword, or just contemplating killing me, Feyre?"
When Lucien is a sarcastic motherfucker:
“So is this what you do with your lives? Spare humans from the Treaty and have fine meals?” I gave a pointed glance toward Tamlin’s baldric, the warrior’s clothes, Lucien’s sword.
Lucien smirked. “We also dance with the spirits under the full moon and snatch human babes from their cradles to replace them with changelings–”
When Lucien describes Amaratha perfectly:
"What happened to the magic to make it act that way?"
Lucien let out a harsh laugh. "Something was sent from the shit-holes of Hell," he said, then glanced around and swore. "I shouldn't have said that. If word got back to her-"
When they run into the Boggee:
"I heard its voice in my head. It told me to look."
Lucien rolled his shoulders. "Well, thank the Cauldron that you didn't. Cleaning up that mess would have ruined the rest of my day." He gave me a wan smile. I didn't return it.
When he gives Feyre a title:
"Are you a warrior, though?" Would you be able to kill me if it ever came to that?
Lucien huffed a laugh. "Not as good as Tam, but I know how to handle my weapons." He patted the hilt of his sword. "Would you like me to teach you how to wield a blade, or do you already know how, oh mighty mortal huntress?
When Lucien just needs someone to spar with:
“Do you ever stop being so serious and dull?"
"Do you ever stop being such a prick?" I snapped back.
Dead—really, truly, I should have been dead for that.
But Lucien grinned at me. "Much better.
When Lucien and Feyre spend quality time together:
Over the next three days, I found myself joining Lucien on Andras's old patrol while Tamlin hunted the grounds for the Bogge, unseen by us. Despite being an occasional bastard, Lucien didn't seem to mind my company, and he did most of the talking, which was fine; it left me to brood over the consequences of firing a single arrow.
An arrow. I never fired a single one during those three days we rode along the border. That very morning I'd spied a red doe in a glen and aimed out of instinct, my arrow poised to fly right into her eye as Lucien sneered that she was not a faerie, at least. But I'd stared at her-fat and healthy and content-and then slackened the bow, replaced the arrow in my quiver, and let the doe wander on.
When Lucien diagnoses Faerie problems perfectly:
A brush of ice slithered across my nape. "He would be that brutal?"
Lucien studied the wine in his goblet. "You don't hold on to power by being everyone's friend. And among the faeries, lesser and High Fae alike, a firm hand is needed. We're too powerful, and too bored with immortality, to be checked by anything else."
When Lucien is told to Back Off, so he exacts his revenge:
Lucien's russet eye was bright, though the smile he gave me didn't meet it. The face of Tamlin's emissary-more court-trained and calculating than I'd seen him yet. "I'm unavailable today," he said. He jerked his chin to Tamlin. "He'll go with you."
Tamlin shot his friend a look of disdain that he took few pains to hide. His usual baldric was armed with more knives than I'd seen before, and their ornate metal handles glinted as he turned to me, his shoulders tight. "Whenever you want to go, just say so." The claws of his free hand slipped back under his skin.
No. I almost said it aloud as I turned pleading eyes to Lucien. Lucien merely patted my shoulder as he passed by. "Perhaps tomorrow, human."
When Lucien hides:
"I had to go sort out some hotheads on the northern border-official emissary business," he said, setting down the hunting knife he'd been cleaning, a long, vicious blade. "I got back in time to hear your little spat with Tam, and decided I was safer up here. I'm glad to hear your human heart has warmed to me, though. At least I'm not on the top of your killing list."
When Lucien and Feyre become friends after he tells her how to trap a Suriel:
Another riddle-and another bit of information. I said, "It's a good thing that while you have superior hearing, I possess superior abilities to keep my mouth shut."
He snorted as I took the knife from the table and turned to procure the bow from my room. "I think I'm starting to like you-for a murdering human."
When Lucien is day drinking and living his best life:
“Would you like me to grovel with gratitude for bringing me here, High Lord?"
"Ah. The Suriel told you nothing important, did it?"
That smile of his sparked something bold in my chest. "He also said that you liked being brushed, and if I'm a clever girl, I might train you with treats."
Tamlin tipped his head to the sky and roared with laughter. Despite myself, I let out a quiet laugh.
"I might die of surprise," Lucien said behind me. "You made a joke, Feyre."
I turned to look at him with a cool smile. "You don't want to know what the Suriel said about you." I flicked my brows up, and Lucien lifted his hands in defeat.
"I'd pay good money to hear what the Suriel thinks of Lucien," Tamlin said.
A cork popped, followed by the sounds of Lucien chugging the bottle's contents and chuckling with a muttered, "Brushed.”
When Lucien is incredibly casual for a guy going to an orgy:
What?”
Lucien laughed. “Yes—all those female faeries around you were females for Tamlin to pick. It’s an honor to be chosen, but it’s his instincts that select her.”
“But you were there—and other male faeries.” My face burned so hot that I began sweating. That was why those three horrible faeries had been there—and they’d thought that just by my presence, I was happy to comply with their plans.
“Ah.” Lucien chuckled. “Well, Tam’s not the only one who gets to perform the rite tonight. Once he makes his choice, we’re free to mingle. Though it’s not the Great Rite, our own dalliances tonight will help the land, too.
When Lucien is the mom friend:
"You look . . . refreshed," Lucien observed with a glance at Tamlin. I shrugged. "Sleep well?"
"Like a babe." I smiled as him and took another bite of food, and felt Lucien's eyes travel inexorably to my neck.
"What is that bruise?" Lucien demanded.
I pointed my fork to Tamlin. "Ask him, he did it."
Lucien looked from Tamlin to me and then back again. "Why does Feyre have a bruise on her neck from you?" he asked with no small amount of amusement.
When Lucien loves drama:
"Accountable?" I sputtered, placing my hands flat on the table. "You cornered me in the hall like a wolf with a rabbit!"
Lucien propped an arm on the table and covered his mouth with his hand, his russet eye bright.
"While I might not have been myself, Lucien and I both told you to stay in your room," Tamlin said, so calmly that I wanted to rip out my hair.
I couldn't help it. Didn't even try to fight the red-hot temper that razed my senses. "Faerie pig!" I yelled, and Lucien howled, almost tipping back in his chair. At the sight of Tamlin's growing smile, I left.
When Lucien bolts:
“I had to keep my hands clenched at my sides to avoid wiping my sweaty palms on the skirts of my gown as I reached the dining room, and immediately contemplated bolting upstairs and changing into a tunic and pants. But I knew they’d already heard me, or smelled me, or used whatever heightened senses they had to detect my presence, and since fleeing would only make it worse, I found it in myself to push open the double doors.
Whatever discussion Tamlin and Lucien had been having stopped, and I tried not to look at their wide eyes as I strode to my usual place at the end of the table.
“Well, I’m late for something incredibly important,” Lucien said, and before I could call him on his outright lie or beg him to stay, the fox-masked faerie vanished.
When Feyre goes to a party:
"Cauldron boil me," Lucien whistled as I came down the stairs. "She looks positively Fae."
...
I squared my shoulders, disinclined to let him see how much his words or voice or sheer well-being impacted me. Not yet. "I'm surprised I'm even allowed to participate tonight."
"Unfortunately for you and your neck," Lucien countered, "tonight's just a party."
"Do you lie awake at night to come up with all your witty replies for the following day?"
Lucien winked at me, and Tamlin laughed and offered me his arm. "He's right,"....
"So there's singing and dancing and excessive drinking," Lucien chimed in, falling into step beside me. "And dallying," he added with a wicked grin.
When Lucien plays a prank:
"I also remember you telling me how witchberries were harmless, and the next thing I knew, I was half-delirious and falling all over myself," I said, recalling the afternoon from a few weeks ago. I'd had hallucinations for hours afterward, and Lucien had laughed himself sick-enough so that Tamlin had chucked him into the reflection pool...."
When Feyre gets drunk of Faerie Wine:
“Tam would gut me if he caught you drinking that.”
“Always looking after your best interests,” I said, and pointedly chugged the contents of the glass. It was like a million fireworks exploding inside me, filling my veins with starlight. I laughed aloud, and Lucien groaned.
“Human fool,” he hissed.
But his glamour had been ripped away. His auburn hair burned like hot metal, and his russet eye smoldered like a bottomless forge. That was what I would capture next.
“I’m going to paint you,” I said, and giggled—actually giggled—as the words popped out.
"Cauldron boil and fry me,” he muttered, and I laughed again.”
When Lucien is hungover and third-wheeling:
Lucien kept rubbing at his temples as he ate, unusually silent, and I hid my smile as I asked him, “And where were you last night?”
Lucien’s metal eye narrowed on me. “I’ll have you know that while you two were dancing with the spirits, I was stuck on border patrol.” Tamlin gave a pointed cough, and Lucien added, “With some company.” He gave me a sly grin. “Rumor has it you two didn’t come back until after dawn.”
I glanced at Tamlin, biting my lip. I’d practically floated into my bedroom that morning. But Tamlin’s gaze now roved my face as if searching for any tinge of regret, of fear. Ridiculous.
“You bit my neck on Fire Night,” I said under my breath. “If I can face you after that, a few kisses are nothing.”
He braced his forearms on the table as he leaned closer to me. “Nothing?” His eyes flicked to my lips. Lucien shifted in his seat, muttering to the Cauldron to spare him, but I ignored him.
“Nothing,” I repeated a bit distantly, watching Tamlin’s mouth move, so keenly aware of every movement he made, resenting the table between us. I could almost feel the warmth of his breath.
“Are you sure?” he murmured, intent and hungry enough that I was glad I was sitting. He could have had me right there, on top of that table. I wanted his broad hands running over my bare skin, wanted his teeth scraping against my neck, wanted his mouth all over me.
“I’m trying to eat,” Lucien said.”
When Lucien drops one of the best lines in the book:
"I see," I lied, not quite seeing at all. Lucien chuckled, sensing it, and I glared sidelong at him. "You've been noticeably absent again."
He used the dagger to clean his nails. "I've been busy. So have you, I take it."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded.
"If I offer you the moon on a string, will you give me a kiss, too?"
When Lucien doesn't know what is coming in the future:
Downstairs, Lucien snorted at the sight of me. "Those clothes are enough to convince me I never want to enter the human realm."
"I'm not sure the human realm would know what to do with you," I said.
Lucien's smile was edged, his shoulders tight as he gave a sharp look behind me to where Tam was waiting in front of a gilded carriage. When he turned back, that metal eye narrowed. "I thought you were smarter than this."
When Lucien admires Feyre's attitude:
“Don’t you understand what Rhys is?”
“I do!” I barked, then sighed. “I do,” I repeated, and glared at the eye in my palm. “It’s done with. So you needn’t hold to whatever oath you swore to Tamlin to protect me—or feel like you owe me anything for saving you from Amarantha. I would have done it just to wipe the smirk off your brothers’ faces.”
Lucien clicked his tongue, but his remaining russet eye shone. “I’m glad to see you didn’t sell your lively human spirit or stubbornness to Rhys.”
When Lucien is a fashionista:
Lucien had gifted both to me—the dagger during the months before Amarantha, the belt in the weeks after her downfall, when I’d carried the dagger, along with many others, everywhere I went. You might as well look good if you’re going to arm yourself to the teeth, he’d said.
When game recognize game
“Cursebreaker,” some murmured. “Blessed,” others whispered.
I made a show of looking surprised—surprised and yet accepting of the Cauldron’s choice. Tamlin’s face was taut with shock, the Hybern royals’ nothing short of baffled.
But I turned to Lucien, my light radiating so brightly that it bounced off his metal eye. A friend beseeching another for help. I reached a hand toward him.
Beyond us, I could feel Ianthe scrambling to regain control, to find some way to spin it.
Perhaps Lucien could, too. For he took my hand, and then knelt upon one knee in the grass, pressing my fingers to his brow.
When Lucien is scared of Amren:
“I think Amren would probably deny that she feels any affection for us—”
“Amren is a bedtime story they told us as younglings to make us behave. Amren was who would drink my blood and carry me to hell if I acted out of line. And yet there she was, acting more like a cranky old aunt than anything.”
“We don’t—we don’t enforce protocol and rank here.”
“Obviously. Rhys lives in a town house, by the Cauldron.” He waved an arm to encompass the city.
When Lucien is a little murderous:
“You’re working with that prick,” Cassian cut in, whatever catching-up now over, apparently. He moved to Mor’s side, a hand on her back. He shook his head at Azriel and Rhys, disgust curling his lip. “You should have spiked Eris’s fucking head to the front gates.”
Azriel only watched them with that icy indifference. But Lucien crossed his arms, leaning against the back of the couch. “I have to agree with Cassian. Eris is a snake.”
When Lucien volunteers to go on a quest:
“You will be going into the human territory,” Rhys warned. “I can’t spare a force to guard you—”
“I don’t need one. I travel faster on my own.” His chin lifted. “I will find her. And if there’s an army to bring back, or at least some way for her own story to sway the human forces … I’ll find a way to do that, too.”
My friends glanced to each other. Mor said, “It will be—very dangerous.”
A half smile curved Lucien’s mouth. “Good. It’d be boring otherwise.
When Lucien makes a friend
“Not for long—not if Vassa has anything to do with it.”
“You sound like an acolyte.”
Lucien blushed, glancing at Elain. “She’s got a foul temper and a fouler mouth.” He cut me a wry look. “You’ll get along just fine.”
#lucien vanserra#sass appreciation#this is 90% acotar#I didn't include ACOFAS or ACOSF because his sass is not as strong#other than calling Rhys and Feyre assholes#kp analysis#acotar series#mtp
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Appreciation post for the eggpire and more during the red banquet cause I'm not seeing enough love for how well they organized and delivered and because I'm so proud of cc!Bad for how far the Bloodvines arc has gone ♥ (this stuff is from Bad's vod btw)
Also something to cheer people up a bit in case the lore got u hard like it got me cause I'm still not okay bestie <3
The starting soon screen being an animation (with glitches to show another frame!!) plus the jazzy electro-swing soundtrack underneath. Just such a good intro, I felt like I was actually in the waiting line for an event, just awesome.
Ponk. Just Ponk, dapper man, handsome Ponk just standing there. Gorgeous, thank you, standing ovation, I love him.
Just everything Bad and Ant did with the building of the room, the stairs!! The coat room!!! The statues right in front of the table, everything looked SO pretty.
ANT MY BELOVED LOOKING HANDSOME AS ALWAYS I just loved all their outfits. The banquet's skins just SLAPPED HARD.
The little moment where Bad changed view of his character and we could see him, Ant and Ponk cwc
Bad singing >>>>>>>>>>
Everyone getting lost despite the oak signs
THE ARC ABOVE THE DANCEFLOOR, WHAT THE HELL YOO
Bad complimenting everyone on their outfits and giving out some gapples here and there
Bad also always repeating the same catchphrases
Sam just drinking copiously and the dumpy situation
People actually dancing + HBomb being the dj
Puffy walking around Bad to see his outfit and complimenting him, just felt like their old friendship cwc
FOOLISH GAVE BAD A FLOWER <3
Bad scolding George for not wearing an outfit (Sam's "his name is Gogy and he is beautiful")
"It's almost time for the feast. It's gonna be delicious." the foreshadowing
Everyone dancing together cwc
"minecraft dancing is speed squats" eret ilu
Bad and Ant complimenting moment ♥
The eggpire all on the same side of the table. Them
Ponk's little "Hello!" after Bad said he made the soup, plus everyone going "good job!!" just twt
When Bad started asking if anyone wanted to give a toast, I realized eventually that this was more of a disguised "Want to say your last words before death?" and it now sounds s o freaking cool. ye s
P O N K 'S S P E E C H
"you look beautiful right now" sam i will cry
When in the middle of his speech, Bad turns to Ant who's already looking at him, nods, Ant nods back, and as Bad turns around again we can see Ant walking away from his seat. I am OBSESSED with this scene, like you already know something is about to go down and oh gosh it was delivered so good
THE LAVA COMING DOWN FROM THE CEILING AS BAD KEPT TALKING, NONE NOTICING, HIM TALKING ABOUT HOW THE BANQUET WILL BE UNFORGETTABLE. SO HOT
"And yeah! Thank you for coming everybody" the little mischievous giggles right after "And prepare uh ... yep. Prepare to die." AND THEN HE FUCKIGN DRINKS FROM HIS GLASS LIKE COME ON YOU CANT BE ANY COOLER THAN THAT YOOO
"The leaf is staying the way it is" you can hear the laughter in his voice like HAH GOTTEM that's so good
Bad still giving Hbomb gapples cwc
"Where you looking for this perchance?" AND THEN EQUIPS THE ENTIRE ARMOR AND WEAPONS E Y E when the twists started dude. this si where the twists started and never ended
HANNAH CROSSING SIDES AND SIDING WITH THE EGGPIRE. QUEEN SHIT that was such a cool moment for her i'm so glad she's getting her moment
The eggpire laughing, just pure villainy, love them
"Time to get on the main event" the nonchalance. The way they equipped the crossbows and readied the arrows at the same time. B r u h fucking awesome they are
The eggpire faking being afraid when Sam was talking about blowing the egg up. Sad that we already knew about the obsidian thing, but still made it a very cool scene. Especially right after when they started laughing at them again. I don't know what it is about it but I love them being so sassy.
FREAKING EXECUTIONS THEY WORKED FOR MASS EXECUTIONS they were able to trap all those freaking people!! And trick them and counter attack all the time! what the fuck, I'm so impressed
Thank you Fundy for sounding super terrified /gen ♥
Wait ahah they really said EGGSECUTION-
THE EGG HATCHES THE EGG HATCHES THE EGG HATCHES im not saying IT but im saing Velvet
"Follow me! Follow me!" HANNAH SOUNDED SO ENTHUSIASTIC i love
"We trusted you!" "Well, that was your first mistake-" THE WAY BAD WAS ABOUT TO LAUGH. DUDE they definitely had so much fucking fun making this
sassyboyhalo
Foolish acting thank u ily. Also the thunder not working what the heck i wanna know what was going on inside his mind right then he sounded so lost. THE ACTING
"Sacrifice!" Hannah idk how to say this but I love you
ANT MOMENTTTT
When puffy called them selfish i was expecting bad to just do a huge double take. I wanted him to snap immediately PLEASE SNAP-
BAD DELIVERING AGAIN WITH THE AMAZING ACTING
"Not just for the egg but for what the egg is going to give us" he's so desperately trying to make them udnerstand it promised him his friend back he literally mentions it every single time but everyone calls him selfish because they think he wants power when he just wants skeppy's friendship back in this essay I will- Anyway yes I love that he never explicitly says it because it kills us viewers with pain cause we KNOW and then the reveal will be 100 times more powerful. This is so awesome
"I can't stop Quackity and you know why I can't stop. If I stop I can't get what I need." his voice grew so much lower like he's just holding back MAN I HH IT WAS SO GOOD
SECRET RETREAT ROOM YOOO
Ponk giving Bad some food and telling him to stay safe, Bad telling both Hannah and Ponk to stay safe too. My tears
And now the solo Bad lore part, where we actually see the true part of him that's absolutely devastated and makes me cry, the way he acted all confident and then saw everything crumble in a few seconds and now he's destroyed again because what if they find a way to destroy the egg what then? what if he never gets skeppy back? dude, you can just read his emotions it's so sad and i love how it was portrayed
"I know where I can go. I know who I can see!" BDI REF BDI REF FOR SURE I have a feeling that's going to be explained in the next lore stream with Skeppy and I'm so hype. I love the little crumbs of references here and there.
"But now they have it.." he sounded so broken??? bad your acting please ill cry
"I didn't really want to hurt anybody" his true self trying to get back cwc especially because he's farther away from the egg. I just love the transition between the guy Bad portrays who's so sure about the egg when it's in front of others and the doubts and anxiety he actually has when he's alone. Just so cool
"Did I screw up?" im just pointing out everything that moves me emotionally cause these people's acting is so cool
Ending the stream with simple black background my beloved
Okay but really I'm so so so proud of the ccs for making this happen and it's only going upwards, I'm literally so in awe, they really said go big or go home
Free space for Ant's villain speech I wasn't able to hear yet, but they said it was v cool, so I'm trusting people on this
Thank you for listening, stan Bloodvines arc /hj
If I made typos no I didn't
#badboyhalo#antfrost#ponk#hannahxxrose#captain puffy#awesamdude#fundy#foolish gamers#hbomb94#georgenotfound#velvetiscake#skeppy#quackity#dream smp#dream smp spoilers#purp pls stop#long post#red banquet
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proximity concert (corpse husband x reader)
requested by @greenie-of-shield “reader is friends with like James Charles and is really good at guitar or ukulele and singing and one day they are all streaming together and like they hear reader playing in the background of someone’s mic and ask who it it’s like James is like “ooh yeah this is my friend (y/n)” they all say hi and corpse compliments her voice and like they ask her to play among us with them and when she dies in among us she plays music for her stream or her friends in proximity chat and stuff. She and corpse get close cause of music and it spirals into like a friends to lovers or something”
summary you’re hanging in the background as your dear friend james charles records an among us video with some youtuber friends (pewdiepie and his usual gang). you decide to entertain james with some ukulele and singing, and end up gaining the welcome attention of youtube’s beloved horror narrator.
warning swearing, sexual reference
gif cred belongs to @datchidatchi
“let’s go!” james cheered when his screen displayed a bright blue crewmate label. you cheered behind him, your voice distant and the sight of you blurry on his camera as you raised your ukulele to cheer with him. he laughed. “oh wait, im not supposed to be muted, we’re using proximity..” you laughed as he unmuted himself and went to do his tasks.
james groaned as he began to download in weapons, slumping against his desk. “this is the most boring task for no reason,” he complained. then he turned to you suddenly and you gave him a surprised look. “y/n, queen, can you sing me a song to pass time?”
you laughed but nodded at your best friend, beginning to strum your ukulele into an upbeat tune. james cheered at the familiar tune. before you could sing the first line out, he waved you over. you paused your strumming to question, “what?”
“come to the mic!” he exclaimed. “let the people hear your beautiful voice!”
you laughed again and went over to his mic. “hi,” you spoke closely into his mic, looking into his camera. he laughed as you leaned back and began to strum the tune again. “sittin’ all alone, mouth full of gum in the driveway..”
james was too busy dancing and you were too busy singing to notice his download had finished and many people had come and go through weapons during the entire scene.
“my friends aren’t far, in the back of my car lay their bodies,” you sang smoothly. “where’s my mind? where’s my mind?” you grinned. “they’ll be there pretty soon, lookin’ through my room-” you cut yourself off as an emergency meeting was called. you clapped a hand over your mouth and pressed a quick kiss to james’s cheek before sneaking back into the background.
james gaped at the perfect lipstick mark you had left on his cheek as toast spoke, “okay, does anyone else hear the ukulele playing or am i going crazy?”
“i was actually just about to ask about that,” corpse spoke. james’s camera zoomed in on your shocked face at his voice.
‘is that corpse?’ you mouthed. james nodded, leaning to mute himself.
“crazy, right?” he laughed. you nodded frantically as he turned back to the game.
“so who is it..?”
“it’s me, guys, sorry,” james spoke. “well, not me, but it’s coming from my room.”
“.. what?”
“my friend y/n is here entertaining me,” james laughed as he explained. “but im honored you’d think my voice is as angelic as hers.”
“i will kiss you!” you exclaimed, loud enough that the mic could pick up your voice. they all burst into laughter.
“sorry,” james said again.
“no, it’s okay, i was just making sure people were doing their tasks,” toast chuckled. “cause i don’t think you can play the ukulele and among us at the same time..”
“not as good as y/n did, anyway,” corpse backed up.
“yeah.”
“your voice is very pretty,” corpse complimented. you placed a hand to your heart as james grinned at you teasingly.
“thank you!” you called over. they laughed simply at the distance and abruptness of your voice. “i think your voice is pretty, too! just like the deep part.” james burst into hysterical laughter.
“thank you,” corpse chuckled. “we, uh, we can skip now.”
“you made him flustered,” james said, turning to you after everyone had dispersed to finish their tasks.
“here, wait, find him,” you spoke, scooting your chair up next to james’s mic.
“you got it, sis.”
james found corpse alone in electrical. corpse turned away from his task to stare down james. “are you here to kill me?”
“no,” james laughed.
“we’re here to sing!” you spoke into the mic.
“oh, great,” corpse chuckled.
“any requests?” you asked, picking at your strings to make sure they were tuned.
“uh.. something with cuss words.”
james let out a loud laugh as you giggled. “okay, i can do that.” you thought for a moment before looking down to your strings, “fuck you, and you, and you. i hate your friends and they hate me, too. im through, im through, im through. this that hot girl bummer anthem turn it up and throw a tantrum.
“this that got girl bummer anthem turn it up and throw a tantrum, this that throw up in your birkin bag, hook up with someone random. this that social awkward suicide that-” a body was reported and you cut yourself off again as corpse groaned.
“guys, i was getting a concert,” corpse complained as you and james laughed.
“okay, well, sykkuno is dead, so i think that trumps your concert,” pj sassed.
“where was his body?”
..
after that round, and much more entertainment of your uke playing, the crewmates managed to beat out the imposters; toast and felix.
“y/n, you should join,” corpse spoke as you all loaded back into the lobby.
“yeah!” rae agreed, many others piping up to encourage you in.
“shit, i don’t know where my laptop is,” you laughed.
“go find it!” james exclaimed. “corpse wants you to play!”
“oh my god, hold up,” you said, handing james your uke and running out of the room.
“so, corpse,” james spoke, strumming your uke as best as he could with his long nails. “what are your intentions with my girl, y/n?” everyone burst into laughter, including the now red-faced faceless youtuber.
..
you were the first to die. gasped at your screen, you grabbed your ukulele. you had gone into a separate room from james to be able to play fairly, but you weren’t very good at the game in the first place.
“james!” you yelled out.
“yeah?”
“request?”
there was a pause. “something sad!”
“got it!” you sighed as you turned back to your laptop screen, considering. you had begun streaming to your youtube when they asked you to join, and now your chat was blowing up with sad song requests. “oh, that’s a good one. thanks..” you let out a laugh. “corpselover3340. i got you, hun.”
you started to strum the song, but as you were playing, corpse’s ghost appeared by yours. “hello, y/n.” you stopped your playing, sitting up straight.
“oh, hi, corpse!” you exclaimed. “request?”
“cuss words, please.”
you laughed. “i got you, i got you..” you considered before beginning to play, “a few weeks ago, i could only do ten pushups. six months ago, i thought you were my girl. but now things have changed, and im so tired. i thought that i was your world. but now you’ve got new friends, and you have all beginnings, well i’ve got ends.. that i didn’t want.
“and yeah, you fucked some other dude.. i guess he loves u more than i do.”
“there it is.”
“what?” you asked, looking up from your uke with a laugh.
“oh, i was just waiting for the cuss word. continue.”
you let out a laugh, but just before you could start playing again, a dead body was reported.
“sean’s body was electrical..”
..
the round was long. after you serenaded corpse a few times, you both talked about music and how you both got into it. eventually, it was just james, felix, rae, and sykkuno left.
“well, there’s only one imposter left..,” sykkuno sighed after calling the meeting.
“i think it’s felix.”
as they all started pointing fingers at each other, james was mostly quiet, to your absolute surprise. then, interrupting a yelling match between rae and felix, james spoke, “do you think y/n and corpse are fucking in ghost chat?”
before anyone could react, corpse unmuted himself to confirm, “yes.” everyone exploded into laughter, you included. as innocently as he could, corpse spoke, “oh, was i unmuted? my bad..” and he muted himself again.
after that round and everyone had gotten their aggressions out on each other, sean reminded everyone with a laugh, “fucking in the ghost chat.. i can’t.”
you all laughed at the reminder.
“oh, y/n, we should go,” james sighed. “we gotta get that video edited before midnight.”
you sighed with him. “yeah, that’s gotta get done.. thank you all for letting me play, it was a lot of fun.”
“bye, y/n!”
“feel free to join again!”
“oh and corpse,” you called out.
“yeah?”
“that was not fucking,” you clarified, making everyone laugh and ‘ohhh’.
“no?” he prodded.
“nah, that purely foreplay, baby,” you confirmed. “see you all!” and you left the call just as they all exploded again.
james walked into the room you were in before you turned off your live. he placed his hands on his hips. “young lady, we need to have a talk.” you laughed and turned off signed off.
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i’ll float away - myg | m
they show you how to swim, then they throw you in the deep end. what if I don’t float? - float, the neighborhood.
↳ summary- years after the breakup, yoongi, a successful award-winning rapper with an unhealthy addiction, finds your wedding invite on Facebook.
↳ rating- explicit/18+
↳ word count- 12.6k
↳ pairing- yoongi x reader
↳ genre- idol!au, postbreakup!au, very heavy angst, smut, fluff
↳ warnings- discussions of drugs and death, penetrative sex, oral sex (m/f receiving), creampie, dirty talk, min yoongi being a mental health king
↳ a.n- hi everyone! some of you may recognize this fic. this fic is my baby. i went through and edited it a little more and put all the chapters together to make it a one shot. i think it flows better that way! i hope you enjoy this. this fic means so so so much to me and while it’s heavy, i hope you enjoy the ride it will take you on. this fic got me back into writing and i will forever be thankful for that.
↳ this fic contains adult content, such as drug use, discussions of suicide, accidental overdose, discussions of drugs and addictions. while this is not romanticized, or idolized, it is discussed. please take care of yourself and proceed with caution. 18+ | discretion is advised.
‘We cordially invite you to the wedding of…’
Min Yoongi felt numb.
Yoongi always felt numb, but this felt different, wrong. Like he was falling and had no ledge to grip.
It felt as if the world had stopped on its axis, and at any moment, gravity would turn off and he would just float, float away to nothingness.
There was no sound. Everything existed in silence.
His fingers couldn’t move. Eyes were glued to his phone screen where he stared at the wedding invite on fucking Facebook.
He wasn’t even sure why he was seeing it, considering you had blocked him on nearly every form of social media. Likely it was from your family, someone that still kept him around despite a million reasons not to.
It felt like centuries before Yoongi noticed his heartbeat again. And when it did, it hurt. It threatened to break his ribs, tear through muscle and sinew, erupt from the skin to go, get away, run run run from this.
The numbness was gone. Now all he felt was the pain.
Yoongi felt like his every cell, every fiber, was burning. Perhaps, they were mourning.
Perhaps, they were dying.
Water dripped onto his phone and it took him a few stunted breaths to realize the water was coming from him, pouring from his eyes like open wounds.
The numb silence surrounding him left him, and now he was too alert, too aware. The sounds hit him like a tidal wave.
His body was reacting years before his brain could catch up. He could hear himself crying, choking on his sobs, and at first, it didn’t register as his own voice wailing your name.
And then emotion erupted and smashed into his psyche, nothing standing in his way to protect him.
He was heartbroken.
He had felt nothing in years, refused to face the sorrowful demons lurking around him. It was easier to hide, to run. It terrified him to think of what would happen if he allowed himself a chance to feel again. He didn’t think he would make it out alive.
Alive.
Was he? Had he been living since that day? He wasn’t sure. He breathed, ate, drank, fucked, but he wasn’t positive he was alive at all.
Living? Sure. Existing? Yes. But alive, he couldn’t determine.
Now that he could feel every ounce of pain, his body accepted it tenfold. His throat felt angry and raw. He must be screaming—he thought. His fingers pricked with pins and needles as if they hadn’t moved an inch since the day he last touched you, refusing to believe you were gone. His arms wrapped around his own chest as his body wracked with sobs.
Yoongi hadn’t cried in years. He hadn’t allowed himself to cry, hadn’t given permission to his mind to even think about it. Surely, once he started, he was confident he would never stop.
His mind reeled. He was only half aware of where he was, what he was doing. It wasn’t until he felt his legs moving, feet shuffling to his nightstand, that he realized what was happening.
He didn’t want to feel. His mind, in an effort to protect, to avoid, was doing the only thing Yoongi knew to do.
He grabbed the bottle of Oxy’s, poured out a handful and contemplated swallowing them.
He didn’t think he wanted to die. To be frank, he felt he was already living in purgatory. He just wanted it to stop, to end, to retreat into nothingness and stop fucking crying.
Swallowing them wouldn’t do. He would fall asleep, and likely stop breathing. Too much. He couldn’t die. He knew in his mind he would feel too guilty to die. He didn’t want death; he merely wanted respite, sanctuary.
He could continue surviving as long as his nerves dulled and frayed, mind sticky and hazy. Exist. Don’t feel.
With skilled hands and tools, Yoongi crushed some pills into a fine powder and sat on his bed to arrange the drug into 4 lines.
He always felt better this way.
He would add a line of coke had his situation been different. It was his go-to, enough to keep himself present, to do what he needed to get through the day while still feeling dissolved. Sing, dance, record, smile for the cameras, sign for the screaming girls, plaster on that boyish smile, repeat.
He just wanted to sleep.
His body worked on auto-pilot. Yoongi was sure he was still heaving with sobs. He could feel his chest shaking, and his hands were unsteady.
You were getting married.
One bump. Inhale. Hold it. Don’t think. Breathe.
Someone else was holding you, smiling as bright as your future. Handsome. Kind. Family man.
Alive.
Second bump. Inhale. Don’t let it go. Breathe.
He imagined your hands on someone else’s body, your voice crying out in throes of passion in someone else’s ear. Whispering someone else’s name as you succumbed to your climax.
Third bump, then straight to the fourth without stopping. It burned as it passed through his nostrils, straight to his bloodstream.
Children, a home and a dog. Family dinner. Movies, laughter. All of them without him. An outsider staring in through the window, wondering what it could feel like to be within; wondered what it was like to get what he wanted.
Yoongi leaned back on his bed, feeling the slow, syrupy wave wash over him.
‘Please, take it away’ he pleaded silently as if the drug were his doctor, his therapist. It was, in many ways. ‘I’m not strong enough.’
His eyes drooped and felt like lead. He was tired. So tired. He could feel his sobs slow, before ending in quiet little whimpers and sighs. His breathing mellowed, and he felt his chest deflate for what felt like hours before his lungs pulled in harshly more air.
He ached but felt as if someone had pulled a blanket over him, over his tortured heart and crumbling brain. No more thinking, just sleep. Can’t feel, can’t cry, don’t want to face it.
Sleep.
Warmth.
Warmth surrounded him. It felt as if he were napping in the shady grass during summer. Warm and comforting.
You were there, in the meadow of his imagination. You were walking to him, a white dress and pretty flowers. Yoongi felt his heart tug at every artery in his body, as if begging him to stop, heel, resist, don’t go.
“Yoongi,” You called across the valley. Your dulcet voice rang through his head as if you spoke directly to his mind.
“Where are you?” You asked.
In a blink, you were in front of him. Your eyes were searching for him, even though he stood inches away.
He opened his mouth to beckon you, but no words came out. He was desperate to call out to you, embrace you. He strained to move his hand. He wanted to touch your cheek, feel real and alive again. His body would not respond.
“Yoongi, go!” You pleaded, eyes filling with tears, still seeking the male. “You can’t be here!”
His body stung, wincing at your words and aching at your distress.
“Yoongi, you need to wake up!”
The warmth faded.
It felt as if something had ripped his comfort blanket from him, exposing his body to the harsh chill of reality.
He could sense he was in a bed, and the lights were bright, so bright. He tried to open his eyes and groaned as the halogen pierced through his skull.
“Yoongi?! Oh my god, he’s waking up!” Distressed voices were too loud all around him, and he felt pokes and prods and beeping of machines.
“Ow-… loud.” His voice was rough as if he hadn’t used it in days.
Yoongi felt more acutely aware of his body as he struggled to wake up. He was so nauseated, stomach churning ferociously, even though he hadn’t eaten since… how long? He wasn’t sure. He wanted to vomit.
He wanted to sleep.
He lifted his eyes again and peered through the harsh lighting. His best friend Hoseok stood over him, along with Namjoon, his manager, and Jimin, his assistant.
Hoseok had tears in his eyes, and the sight made Yoongi wince with grief. Hobi hadn’t cried since high school when he got cut from the dance team. Something awful must have happened.
“Hobi…,” he murmured, coughing to clear his throat. “What happened? What’s going on?”
Adjusted to the light, Yoongi finally glanced at his surroundings and took stock of his environment.
He was in a hospital; he was the patient. An IV was stuck in the crook of his arm, his skin ghostly pale, enormous bags of saline attached overhead. He felt faint.
How had this happened? Did he hurt himself at practice? Was there a car accident? Yoongi could remember driving home from the dance studio but felt foggy about anything else. He didn’t even know what day it was.
His friends blanched at Yoongi’s questioning, side-eying each other. Who would have to be the one to tell him?
Hoseok’s eyes flooded with tears again as he looked at the rapper and spoke. “Yoongi… you-… you OD’d.”
The words hit him like an oncoming train.
Overdose.
It had never happened to him before.
He nearly died.
He had, unfortunately, been in the game long enough to watch it happen to others. Some were lucky to make it out okay, most weren’t.
It all flashed painfully in his mind as it all flooded back.
You. Marriage. OxyContin.
Inhale. Don’t breathe. Don’t feel.
“Oh, my god.”
Hoseok let out a soft sob. “Jimin found you in your bed. Thank god you keep Narcan.”
Yoongi turned to glance at the gentle, pink-haired boy who had already done so much for him. Yoongi felt wrecked, utterly guilty for putting him in such a situation. How many times had Yoongi had to force a needle into a friend’s thigh, watch as their pinpoint pupils widened and lungs gasped for air as their synapses released? Too many. Each time kept him awake all night and petrified for months. He regularly kept the overdose reversal drug on him, in the studio, in his home.
“Jimin,” he croaked, his own eyes filling with tears. “I’m s-so fucking sorry.”
Jimin couldn’t hold back the tears in his eyes anymore. “It’s okay, Yoongs.” Jimin’s voice was quiet, trembling.
Yoongi felt the tears slip down his cheeks at his best friends and team. He had put so much on them. So much.
“You saved my life, Jimin.” Yoongi’s quiet voice made the assistant cry more.
“You’d do it for me.” He whispered through tears as he pushed forward and fell into Yoongi’s chest, holding the rapper close. “Let’s just… get better, y-yeah?”
The rapper’s heart seized up.
Better.
What was better? Surely, Jimin meant rehab. Sobriety. Meetings and sponsors.
To Yoongi, it meant feeling. It screamed hurting. It oozed heartbreak.
When Yoongi had been introduced to drugs at the beginning of his rap career, it had been fun and sexy. They used coke at the hottest parties, weed at all the clubs, acid at the raves. Yoongi sampled each like a buffet, found out which made him feel lightheaded and loose, which made him dizzy, which made him ache.
The drugs led to the girls. So many women begging for him. The cloudy haze of his mind found it hard to resist, even knowing you were still his, still waiting for him as you and he promised with thin silver bands symbolizing your shared devotion and dedication.
Therefore, drugs led to regret.
He left you. Days before your wedding. He exposed all of his misdeeds, his infidelity, his vices. He had promised you after he was famous, rich, well known that he would come back to you, start a family with you.
Instead, he turned away and left.
It was easier to avoid it all and leave; he rationalized. Seeing your heartbreak had been his undoing.
After the breakup, Yoongi self-medicated daily. He stuck with opiates and cocaine, finding it just the right combination to get him pleasantly numb from the guilt and loss of you while giving him the euphoric high he needed as a rising star rapper.
He had tried to keep it to himself as long as he could. Hoseok knew about the recreational use but hadn’t realized the extent of the problem until he found Yoongi too high to function, slumped in a chair in the recording studio.
Hoseok told Namjoon, his manager, who interrogated Yoongi’s assistant, Jimin. None had known quite how far Yoongi had spiraled down. And none had an idea to pull him out.
Yoongi didn’t want to go to rehab. He didn’t want the forced positivity. Group therapy. Social workers discussing ‘goals’ and ‘treatment plans’. He would risk his reputation. He was now a top-earning Grammy-winning artist. He was fucking Agust D. He couldn’t be just another celebrity who ended up in rehab. It would ruin everything he built. He could do it himself, fix his problems alone as he always had.
“Yeah.” Yoongi croaked to his assistant. “I’ll get better.” His smile was weak, and probably unconvincing to the three men who knew him best.
As Namjoon opened his mouth to speak, a knock sounded at the door of his room. Yoongi’s brow furrowed in confusion. He did not know who it could be, the three people he interacted with most already present. His accountant? Wouldn’t seem likely. A fan? Definitely unlikely, Jimin and Namjoon had likely taken major strides to ensure his privacy and ask the hospital to provide security. Was it… you? Yoongi stopped breathing at the thought.
Namjoon strode to the door and opened it a crack, peering out. Yoongi couldn’t see who the manager was whispering too, but moments later watched as the door swung open.
It wasn’t you. He felt relief. He wouldn’t have been able to look at you. But the guest was only slightly better.
Your mother.
The matronly woman’s eyes were full of tears. Yoongi’s mother had been your mother’s best friend from childhood, to the very day Yoongi’s mother passed away from breast cancer. Yoongi had been 17, void of any motherly contact at such an impressionable age.
Your mother had stepped in, no doubt or worry in her mind about caring for the teen. He was already such good friends with you and she even encouraged and supported the underlying feelings the two had for each other. Yoongi became family and nearly a son-in-law.
Even after the breakup, after breaking your heart and leaving you at the altar, your mom still kept in contact with him. She still reached out, celebrated his achievements and ensured he was well. She was the picture of forgiveness and compassion.
Yoongi crumbled at the sight of her, suddenly feeling like a teenager again, and sobbed as she moved forward quickly to embrace him. Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jimin stepped outside to allow privacy and Yoongi clung to the only mother figure he had.
“I’m sorry. I’m so s-sorry.” He bawled.
He didn’t know exactly what he was apologizing for. For hurting you? For avoiding her and the entire realm of anything concerning you? For almost killing himself? Maybe a mix of it all.
His chest hurt, god it hurt so bad. It felt as if all ribs snapped from the crushing weight of his sorrow and guilt.
Her hand smoothed his hair, mint-colored now, and held his face to her neck and cried with him.
“Shh,” She soothed. “It’s okay, little lion.”
Yoongi cried harder at the childhood nickname from his deceased mother that followed him to adulthood with the woman holding him.
Yoongi couldn’t stop crying. It wouldn’t end. It felt like an endless river, a torrential storm that never passed. He felt raw, ripped from the inside out.
“You’re alive, Yoongi.” She whispered and kissed his forehead. “You’re still here. I love you.”
He wasn’t sure what he had done in a past life to deserve this kindness and unconditional love. Yoongi knew he didn’t deserve it, especially not from the mother of the girl he loved and broke completely. Not from the woman who he promised to make a grandmother, only to turn away and leave destruction in his wake.
“She’s getting married,” He choked out, the pain in his chest overwhelming him at his own words, so consuming he felt devoid of air. He gasped, struggling to breathe at all. “T-that should be me.”
She sensed this and squeezed her eyes tighter, hugging the boy closer to her as sobs wrecked his tired, thin body.
“I know, love.” She whispered. “I know.” She had no words to quell the heartbreak, just as she had many years ago when you laid across her lap, crying over the boy you loved completely. Words wouldn’t fix the wounds. She could only provide comfort; a band-aid on a bullet hole.
Yoongi allowed himself to sob, fully cry until he felt he might pass out. She held him, rocked him like a child, whispered words of comfort as his breathing eventually slowed and even out. His sobs turned to sniffles, and though he stopped crying, his eyes remained glassy and broken.
He had stopped crying; he noticed. The tears had stopped flowing, the thick pleas escaping his throat dried. But he hadn’t stopped the hurt. It felt as though the hurt was a gaping, infected, open sore that would never heal. He could hide it from the world, cover it up for none to see, but he couldn’t ignore the sting or the pain with every breath.
Yoongi steeled himself to look into the eyes of his comforter, preparing himself for the look of pity or disappointment in her look.
He bit back another cry as he only found compassion, comfort and unconditional love in her gaze. He didn’t deserve her.
“Please, don’t tell her,” he pleaded. “I can’t…,” he gulped. “I can’t let her know about this.”
She grimaced. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that.” She sighed, stroking her fingers through his mint colored hair. “She wanted to come to see you, too.” Yoongi groaned and felt his heart clench. “I told her it wasn’t the best idea.” She murmured. Yoongi was suddenly comforted and struck by how very much he did not deserve the grace of this woman.
“Fuck,” he sighed. “She thought I was clean. That was the last thing I told her.”
He recalled the last time you two had spoken when he promised to get clean. Instead, he had left and spent the next few years in a haze.
“I think you should talk to her,” she admitted. “Not now. Not until you feel better, but she was distraught at the news.”
The idea of seeing you again plowed through him like a freight train.
“Sure,” he whispered. He couldn’t understand why you’d be concerned. You had swung choice words at him as he left, insults he deserved. “Maybe.”
Yoongi spent more time with his mother figure, comforting him and whispering sweet revelations and promises to keep in touch before his doctor interrupted and encouraged Yoongi to get rest without distraction.
Soon enough, he was alone again. Stuck in the too bright, too white, sterile room he had landed himself in because of his grief.
His attention diverted between the discomfort of his withdrawal and the gaping wound of having to see you again.
Even if he made it out sober, withdrawal free, he wasn’t sure he would make it out for long.
He tried to stay away, stay clean. He managed for a few weeks, immersing himself in writing an album and using his creative expression to medicate his wounds. And it worked.
Until it didn’t.
It started with the marijuana. He couldn’t resist the way it helped soothe everything. Not just the pain, but the world around him. He could sink into his bed, write away his feelings and worries, and relish in the sensation of absolutely nothing.
That lasted for a few weeks. He’d try to smoke every day, but the darkness continued to creep up, wrapping around his throat like a vice.
He demanded his schedule to get busier, to get tighter, despite the warnings from Namjoon. He insisted on shows, award dinners, radio interviews, everything. If he was busy, he wouldn’t think about you. He could survive another day if you weren’t the first thing on his mind.
That’s when the cocaine started again.
It helped him muster the energy he needed to plaster on Agust D, rapper extraordinaire. He could sing, rap, dance, wink at the girls, sign the scantily clad flesh, throw back a shot of vodka and charm the press.
A few lines of coke every few hours pushed him forward, and towards his end.
But he was handling it. Wasn’t he? Wasn’t he working, being successful, making money? He was rich. He was famous. He was beloved. He was shining.
Did it even fucking matter?
The shine made his shadow darker. It made his fall from grace longer, more painful.
It didn’t fucking matter.
Yoongi found himself at the corner of the park, the same one you two had grown up playing in. It was in the center of the neighborhood you two lived. It was where he first chased you around the swings, laughed with you over comics at the picnic table, and fucked you for the first time in the parking lot in the backseat of his car.
He couldn’t stop the memories rolling over him like a boulder, crushing his lungs and threatening to snap his bones into nothing more than dust.
It stunted his breath. He felt as if pulling in a full intake of air was impossible.
He finally sucked up his faux courage and scheduled a time to meet you here at this park. The park that held such significance to both of you.
If he thought it was hard to breathe at the memories of the park, it was even worse when you walked towards him, and planted your feet in front of him.
There was nothing. Stillness. Absolute silence as you both felt as if the barometric pressure dropped around your vicinity. A vacuum. Nothing but you two, and so much hurt it was palpable.
“Y-You’re getting married-..” Yoongi broke the silence, voice dry and quiet. He wanted to say more, but couldn’t. He couldn’t look anywhere but his feet. Didn’t want to see a ring around your finger that wasn’t from him.
You nodded, tears welling in your eyes. “Yeah, I am.”
Yoongi couldn’t look at you, couldn’t look you in your eyes. It was too much. Too painful. Those eyes used to look at him with so much love, so much pride. He couldn’t bear to see what you held in them now.
“Great, that is great,” his voice was flat. “Happy for you. I hope it goes well.”
You cringed and turned your face up to stare at the mint-haired boy. The man of your dreams. The one who took so much and left you with nothing.
“Hoseok told me what happened.”
Yoongi closed his eyes, as if blocking out the words. Fuck. Of course. You and Hoseok were still close; it was bound to happen.
His world now was so dark, so ugly. Yoongi couldn’t bear ruining you any more. You had been the iron rod and lamplight that led him through the darkness. You were his lifeline. Without you, all stability, all light, gone.
“Yeah,” was all he could muster, flickering up to look at you. You were staring back, eyes full of unshed tears.
Yoongi inhaled sharply, feeling each tear from your eyes as a knife to his chest. He hadn’t seen your eyes in so long. Staring at you was like leaving a hand on a burning stove.
“Are you still using?” You asked. Your words weren’t callous or cruel. You asked to gather information, to determine an opinion, not to pass judgement. Yoongi knew you meant no harm and found himself powerless to lie to you, anyway.
“Just…,” he let out a puff of air anxiously. “Yeah, sort of. Weed and some coke, I guess. Nothing else.” He rubbed his neck anxiously.
Your lips set in a line, and your eyes flicked back down, sadness washing over your features. He could feel it rolling off of you in waves, lumps building in his throat.
“I miss you,” He admitted, words tumbling out before he could catch himself. “So fucking much. I know this isn’t fair, and I know that I fucked up. I just miss you more than anything else in the world.”
At first, you laughed. Yoongi felt as if someone had punched him.
Then you cried. Yoongi felt as if he had been shot, point blank in the chest.
“You’re right, Yoongi. It isn’t fair,” You walked closer to him, a mix of grief and anger. “You ruined my fucking life.”
You pushed against his shoulder. “You left me at the fucking altar. You cheated on me.” The tears came faster down your cheeks. “Then, you almost fucking died. And my mom won’t stop crying. And I can’t stop crying, I fucking cry my eyes out because my wedding is in 2 months and I realize I will never get over you.”
Yoongi felt another shot, execution style, to the head. He couldn’t speak and watched your anger, accepting the jabs to his chest.
“I thought I was happy, Yoongi. I really thought I would get the wedding and life I wanted so badly, and you took it away from me. Twice!” You were sobbing, pushed even closer against him. “You almost fucking dying made me realize I don’t want that life with him. I want it with you, you fucking inconsiderate asshole!”
Yoongi couldn’t bring himself to speak. Any elation he might have had about hearing your revelation was quickly quelled by the fire of your anguish.
“And, now you’re still using and there’s no way I could even think about seeing you high. I love you so much and it fucking hurts me knowing you do that to yourself, accepting no sort of fucking help. You can’t do it all yourself, Min Yoongi, no matter how fucking great you think you are!”
He couldn’t reply. He had no words, nothing of value to add. You were right. He couldn’t find a single argument. Your body pressed so close to him and his body ached. It yearned to close the distance and feel your shape against his, slotting together so easily as you always had. It was magnetic. He could almost weep at how badly he needed to hold you, to feel you, to touch you again.
You watched him, unable to stop the flow of tears you promised you would never shed for him again. “Look at me.” You asked quietly.
Yoongi’s own red-rimmed eyes lifted to yours. He looked so broken. So raw. He was crying, years of built up sorrow pouring down his pale cheeks.
You closed the distance and pushed together your bodies, wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your face against his neck. He smelled as he always did. Dove shampoo, Old Spice, laundry detergent. You knew Yoongi nearly down to his DNA.
You lifted your face level to his and pressed a kiss to his lips. He felt no heat in the kiss, no desire.
It felt final, resolute.
“Goodbye, Yoongi.” You whispered, pressing your forehead to his.
And you turned. And you left.
And another piece of Yoongi’s broken heart slipped away with you.
Yoongi avoided any semblance of routine. He couldn’t focus. He couldn’t feel anything but ache. He saw you in everything he did.
He tried to stay away from the drugs. He sincerely did. He knew the risks. He knew he had nearly died.
But he could not bear to take the pain anymore. He could not continue fighting his very breath, forcing himself to breathe even though it hurt too much.
He was still standing on the outside of your world, so far away from you. It was so cold. He didn’t remember what warmth was. He didn’t think he deserved to remember, either.
It was easy to score a baggie of smack. Yoongi had plenty of money and connections. But Yoongi had never done heroin intravenously. He had smoked it with his old dealer, the first man he ever had to revive with Narcan. IV use scared him. But it was what he could get a hold of, and what he needed.
Tie off. Fill up. Inject. Hold it. Breathe. Don’t feel. Release.
It washed over him quickly, the same fuzzy warmth that started at his toes and slithered up to his head. It felt headier than snorting it, less of a slow rush, more of an instant dive into warmth. Comfort.
The knot in his stomach loosened. Yoongi relaxed against his pillows and inhaled deeply before exhaling. He could breathe again.
He was so sleepy. So tired. He could sleep again without the torment of his dreams. He could live again without feeling his shattered heart. No hurt. Only comfort.
His only love.
He wasn’t sure how long he slept for. He didn’t dream. He couldn’t recall if five minutes had passed or five days. His head pounded him back to reality as he woke, and he realized it was dark outside his bedroom.
His phone was still on his bedside table. He checked it and groaned. It was the next day, next evening really. He had slept over 24 hours. He felt like shit.
The nausea and the chills came soon after. He felt as if he was burning. He couldn’t stop puking, even with minimal content in his stomach to begin with. Sips of water would come back up. His fever got worse. He became so drenched in sweat he stripped his clothes and sat in a bath, hoping to sweat the fever out. It chilled him to the bone. He was so hot, and so fucking cold at the same time.
Yoongi cried as he held himself in the tub. He was alone. He was withdrawing. He wanted more, god he wanted to sleep and feel good again, didn’t want the sickness or the grief. It was so much. So fucking much.
His fingers danced along his phone, dialing your number out of habit, out of a need to hear you.
“Why are you calling me, Yoongi?” Your voice, flat, asked through the phone.
Yoongi croaked. His voice was hoarse due to disuse for over a day. “I fucked up, baby.”
Your heart clenched at the sound of the pet name. It had been so long. God, you had missed it so much. You missed him. You fucking hated him for it.
“Are you okay?” You asked, concern edging out the anger at his call.
“No,” he sighed, shivering and holding his knees to his chest. “I sh-shot up.”
He could not stop the whimper leaving his mouth. “I’m withdrawing. I w-want to keep using it, but I can’t!” Yoongi sobbed, openly weeping at the physical and emotional pain. “I’ll fucking die again. I don’t want to die. I love you.”
Tears poured down your face, heartbroken at his words and actions.
“Yoongi, where are you?”
Yoongi quickly replied. “I’m at home, in the bathtub. The front door is locked,” He whispered. “I don’t think I can stand.”
“I still uh… have my key.” You admitted. Yoongi felt his heart clench, unsure of what to make of that idea.
Yoongi remained in the bathtub, holding himself and shivering violently when you arrived on scene. Your heart, already so broken, shattered at the impact of seeing the love of your life and the cause of your heartbreak, suffering.
“Fuck,” you whispered, quickly grabbing towels and kneeling by the tub at his side. “Yoongs, let’s get you dry, okay? Can you stand with me?” You grasped his clammy arms and allowed him to use your weight to balance himself on shaky legs.
You were so gentle. So compassionate. Yoongi felt his resolve breaking, wanting nothing but to wrap you up and never let you go again, tell your future husband to fuck off and allow the rapper to take his rightful place.
With your help, Yoongi stood and allowed himself to be dried. He normally would have felt the stirrings of arousal at such an intimate gesture, but all he felt now was unbridled affection and overpowering guilt.
You led Yoongi to his bed, settling him on the soft surface while you moved to dig through his drawers for clothes.
“Don’t make me go to the hospital,” he pleaded softly. You stole a look back at him, at his words.
“Yoongi, you need to see someone. You’re not okay.”
He shook his head. “No, I’m… I’ll be okay. I’ve gone through the worst of it already.” He rubbed at his sweaty forehead. “Will you just stay with me? I’m so cold.” He shivered.
You glanced at the man on the bed. He was thin, so sickly thin. While he had always maintained a lean physique, it looked as if the rapper hadn’t eaten in weeks. His skin was sallow, paper white with bruises on his arms and legs that seemed onyx against his alabaster skin.
You weren’t sure you could argue with him, but he definitely appeared less ill for wear now that he was out of the bath and dry.
“Yoongs,…” you breathed, dropping the clothing in your hands. “Let me hold you.” All reservations were held back. The anger dissipated. You couldn’t fight the need to help him, to nurture and hold him.
You moved to tear your thick jacket off your frame and toe out of your shoes before making towards the bed. Together, you took hands and slid gently in between his sheets. Yoongi’s body was trembling. He didn’t know if it was from the withdrawal or his proximity to you.
You pulled the blanket up and over your bodies, pressing yours against his thin body. His skin was freezing, forcing out a shiver of your own.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, forehead leaning to press against yours. You didn’t reply, not sure you’d be able to form words.
You laid in a long, comfortable silence as your warm hands rubbed along Yoongi’s arms and back, willing the blood vessels in his body to expand and return his heat. His breathing was even now, but occasionally let out a groan. He couldn’t tell if it was a groan of pain, or of pleasure. Your hands on his skin felt like heaven and hell, wrapped in one.
Everything he loved and lost in one package.
Bringing him to life and sentencing him to death.
“I love you,” his voice was shaky, quiet.
You nodded, tears now easily slipping past your cheeks. “I love you too.” There was no use denying it. It was clear in the way you ran to him, in the way you held him tightly, as if he would disappear without you pressed up against him.
His lips found yours easily, as if magnetized. The kiss was slow, gentle. You felt your own tears slide down your cheeks and meet his own. Yoongi couldn’t help them, couldn’t help the simultaneous ache and burn of your touch again.
His hand slid to rest on your hip, underneath your shirt, pulling you even closer. The kiss deepened, tongues swirling in each other’s mouth, searching for each other in the only place you knew.
It didn’t take long for your shirt to come off, and Yoongi’s hands to slide down your hips to push at your jeans. This wasn’t passionate or steamy. It was broken, desperately seeking comfort in the solace of each other.
Once your clothing laid strewn across the floor, Yoongi wrapped his thin arms around your waist, pulling you as close to him as he could. He could feel your breasts press up against his chest and was positive you could feel his hardness pressing into your thighs.
He didn’t want to fuck you. He wanted to love you, to feel you again. He wanted to hide inside you. He wanted the security that being buried deep within you once gave him. He wanted to feel alive, feel you. It seemed he could no longer separate the difference.
His tears wouldn’t stop flowing, neither would yours.
There was no foreplay, no teasing or edging. Yoongi laid you back against the pillows and kissed at your tears, eyes boring into yours to seek consent. You nodded, opening up your legs as a response. You needed to feel him too, fill the ache inside of you that widened each day without him. Yoongi lined himself up and slid into the familiar, inviting heat.
You muffled a cry, thrilled at the feeling of him filling you completely. You missed him. You loved him. You hated him. You never felt more complete. The thought made you cry more, both in pleasure and in sorrow. The man bringing you so much pleasure had wrought so much sadness and pain.
Yoongi kept a slow pace, uncaring about orgasms or getting off. His desire to be within you was void of sensuality at this point. Yoongi only wanted to be within you, to feel safe, to feel anything again. He felt alive.
Alive.
His thrusting moved quicker as your lips met and danced together, pouring out emotion through unspoken gestures. He didn’t have the words, couldn’t tell you every single thought ran through his brain. He hoped he could convey them to you here, in each roll of his hips.
Yoongi felt his release quickly approaching, unsure of how to proceed. He wasn’t sure what the moral code for cumming inside your ex fiancé was. He groaned as he kissed you.
“I love you, I’m close. Where…?” He hoped you would understand his broken question.
You sighed with relief, feeling yours coming quickly too. While there had been no fire, no passion, the unadulterated emotion coursing between the two of you was enough to bring you close to completion.
“Inside me, please,” you sniffed, gasping at the tendrils of orgasm beginning to wrap around you.
Yoongi pressed his face against your neck, leaving salty kisses as he felt your channel pulse around him in completion, triggering his own end. He momentarily thrilled at his cum coating your cunt again, but the thought quickly left him. Not that kind of night, nor that kind of fucking. Your moans were quiet, and he merely breathed a soft sigh into your neck.
It only took a moment for the reality of it all to hit you.
You had just fucked your ex. Who was in the middle of a withdrawal. While you were engaged to another man. Who you had no desire to ever see again.
Fuck.
Yoongi pulled himself out of you, but pressed you close against him. Despite the agony in his head and his stomach from the pain of withdrawing, he felt secure again. He felt, for a minute, like he was finally on the inside of his dream, no longer looking in from the outside.
It was quickly wrenched away as you slithered out from under him, your tears quickening.
“I need to go,” you murmured. “I can’t believe I-we…,” you shook your head as you pulled your clothes on quickly. “I’m engaged.”
Yoongi winced and sat up as he watched you. “Yeah,” he felt his own tears slip down his cheeks. “I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”
“You’re always sorry, Yoongi,” you snapped. It felt like a dagger to his heart.
He was. Always so sorry. He rarely felt anything other than sorry.
You felt guilty at the look that crossed his features. Fuck.
“I’ll-… I’ll call Hoseok to come check on you. Okay?”
Yoongi remained solid and didn’t move, only tracked you with his eyes as you shoved yourself into your coat and cried as you put on your shoes.
“Goodbye, Yoongi,” you whispered. He wondered if it was the last time he’d see you.
The door closed; all that was left of his weak heart left with you.
Fuck.
Sorry. Always so sorry.
Yoongi mulled that phrase through his mind since you left.
He was sure at this point sorrow and grief fueled his body alone.
He stopped caring, only subsisted on weed and whatever cans of food he found in his kitchen, or what Jimin would leave out for him. He stopped caring. The minuscule amount of care inside him evaporated.
He felt like he was wandering an empty, dark pathway with no light. No end in sight.
He hid from the world, stopped all the press conferences, the interviews, the shows. He dropped out of a three-month tour of Europe, one that would have brought him significant money and status. He wasn’t sure he could even perform anymore, drugs or not.
The tabloids started running about him then, too. Tales of drug addiction, of his deep and dark secrets he tried to keep away. They spun false tales of illicit sex, arrests, gang connections, violence. His career was on the precipice of crumbling around him.
He shined, he burned bright and fast.
Now, he was ashes on the ground.
He burned through his money, ate nothing but packaged ramen and beer, and cried himself to sleep at night.
His life was fucking pathetic.
Namjoon avoided him, only talking to him about business-related concerns and the press. Jimin remained steadfast and loyal, constantly checking in, but only looked at him with pity and sadness. Hoseok refused to spend time with him, citing his concerns about watching his best friend die in front of him.
Losing everything eventually broke him.
He stayed up all night, every night, so drugged out his mind, and cried. He looked at old pictures of you and him, of his best friends, memories of a time much easier and happier.
He had lost all of it.
For something that was going to fucking kill him.
He let you get away. He lost his friends. All for trying to be rich and famous. And that was quickly slipping through his fingers too.
It was time to stop. It was time to stop fucking around.
It was time to end it all.
With one last jab of the needle, Yoongi slid away.
Far, far away.
Rehab wasn’t as bad as Yoongi had painted it out to be.
There were group meetings, individual therapy, social workers and their treatment goals. There was crying. There was pain, so much it felt overwhelming. There were the withdrawals, likely the worst aspect of it all. The nausea, the fever, the stomach churning. He wanted so badly to end it, just use one more time to stop being sick.
But there he found healing. He found each time he cried, a piece of his heart built back up, sturdier this time. Each dry heave of sickness brought him one step closer to never feeling it again.
He found camaraderie. He found wellness. He found his muse and his passion again.
He met new friends, Taehyung and Jungkook, both fellow opioid addicts. Through them, they formed a bond of sobriety and perseverance. They held each other accountable and held each other close through their subsequent relapses and returns to rehab.
Yoongi started working out, started putting weight back on in places it was meant to be: his cheeks, his arms and thighs, around his ribs. Jungkook was a personal trainer and guided him through personalized workouts and a nutrition plan. Yoongi found peace in each 60 minute cardio or weight-lifting session with his new best friend. He realized he could pour out all his pent-up emotions through his sweat, his hard work.
Taehyung was an artist, a phenomenally gifted and talented man. Yoongi felt inspired by him. Yoongi wrote and wrote. He wrote songs, poems, stories, rap lines. He found that what he couldn’t release physically through his training, he could release through his gift of creative writing.
Yoongi released his album from rehab, with the help of Namjoon. He merely titled it ‘goodbye’. Taehyung’s creative muse helped him finish the lyrics to all his songs. Yoongi felt cathartic, releasing his last record, an ode to Agust D and a goodbye to the live fast, die young lifestyle he no longer wished to partake of.
Yoongi’s therapist, Kim Seokjin, likely made the biggest impact on him. Yoongi learned about love, actual love. Loving yourself, respecting yourself, allowing yourself to feel the entire scope and range of emotions.
It was amid a therapy session with Jin that Yoongi decided he wanted to be a therapist.
Yoongi stepped out of the spotlight, out of the lifestyle of the rich and famous, and Yoongi returned to school in the fall for his Master’s in Social Work, with Jungkook at his side working towards a degree in exercise science and Taehyung working towards a Master’s in Fine Arts.
Yoongi followed the Narcotics Anonymous guidelines to a T. He admitted to himself his faults, his addiction. He attended all meetings, called his sponsor regularly and in emergency situations where the need to use was so overpowering he felt he might give in. He apologized to Hoseok, Namjoon, and Jimin. It was important to him to mend those relationships. He felt it was important to right the wrongs he brought upon them over the last five years.
He apologized to your mother. He visited her weekly, checking in on her and surprising her with her favorite foods and flowers. She bought 6 copies of his newest album, and together they wept over the lyrics, the intricately weaved storyline, and the stunning change the boy made.
She attended his graduation, too. She cried when Yoongi slid the tassel on his cap to the right, to the left. Yoongi felt a rush that drugs never compared to as he shook the hand of the president of his university and held that thick roll of paper.
He had accomplished something. He had done something; he had worked through incredible odds stacked against him and achieved it. No longer was Yoongi content with watching his life slip by in a haze.
Yoongi became a therapist, a social worker. The same people he thought would drag him down and ruin his career and reputation were the same people who lifted him out of his darkest place.
Min Yoongi, social worker.
He liked that better than Agust D, dead rapper, anyway.
Yoongi was leaving work, a group home for adolescent men suffering from addiction, when he ran into you.
His horn-rimmed glasses framed his face and newly bleached blonde hair fell around his forehead.
His heart stuttered at the sight of you. It all came rushing back.
Pain. Sadness. Drugs. Addiction.
You smiled at him, surprised to see him looking so healthy. You had heard all about his progress from your mother, eagerness and pride in her voice. But seeing him was as if walking into another dimension. He looked fit, strong, healthy, intelligent. Frankly, he looked sexy.
“Hi,” you meekly croaked, a blush floating to your cheeks at the thought of finding your ex so dashing.
“Hi,” he replied, a soft smile filling his lips as he practiced his mindfulness to allow the self-sabotaging thoughts to work themselves out, replaced with hopeful and insightful ones. Min Yoongi wasn’t afraid to feel anymore.
He wanted to talk to you. He wanted to ask you out. He wanted to kiss you. He wanted to fuck you.
He felt mildly guilty about wanting to fuck another man’s wife, but shook the thought away. He would settle for talking. You may have been his ex fiancé, but you were also his childhood best friend. He craved to just settle back into that role, alone.
“Do-…” he faltered for a moment, then swallowed harshly and summoned courage. “Do you wanna grab a coffee with me? I was just headed to get one.” He pulled his backpack tighter to his back, unable to part with the bag that guided him through school and into a real-life job.
You nodded, finding it hard to speak. “Yes.”
Yoongi couldn’t stop staring at you. You looked so beautiful, so different while still so similar. Your hair was longer, healthier. Your clothes fit well to your body, accentuating your curves and sliding down elegantly and conservatively. Your eyes glistened with something. Maybe it was hope. Maybe it was desire.
“I heard you’re a therapist now,” you murmured as you clutched the hot matcha latte in your hands, sitting across the tiny wood table from the ex-rapper.
Yoongi blushed and nodded. “Yeah, I am.” You didn’t miss the way his voice sounded so confident, so proud. “I work at a group home for young men with substance abuse addictions.” He smiled, poised and content. The pride clear on his face had never been there when he was a musician.
You couldn’t help the hard beat of your heart. “Wow,” you sighed. “That’s incredible, Yoongs. Mom said she’s proud of you,” you gulped. “I’m proud of you, too.”
Yoongi took a moment to nod graciously, feeling a swell within him. You were proud. Of him.
“How’s errr…” he faltered, not remembering the name of your fiancé, or husband now, he supposed. “Your husband?”
You blanched at the words. “Oh, we, umm, didn’t get married. It didn’t work out.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
You looked at the blonde boy, a smile reappearing on your features.
“It’s okay. It was for the best,” you surmised. “Everything happens for a reason.”
Yoongi caught the look you sent and smiled. “You’re right.”
You two fell into easy conversation. He told you all about his new best friends from rehab, Jungkook and Taehyung, and how seamlessly they fit into the friendships he already had. He discussed stories of their escapades in graduate school and how Namjoon, his manager, quickly fell in love with Seokjin, his therapist, and how Yoongi had played matchmaker for the couple. He discussed concepts he learned in therapy, in school, and now in his practice as a therapist.
You were enthralled and captivated. You were so unabashedly in love with Yoongi and realized you had never stopped.
“Care if I walk you home?” He asked, standing suddenly as he finished his chai, holding out his hand.
Your heart leaped, and you nodded, chugging down the rest of your drink and slipping your hand into his. He felt warm, strong. So much different from the pale, thin, clammy man you slept with years ago as he suffered through withdrawal.
This wasn’t the Yoongi of your childhood, who wanted to be famous. This wasn’t the Yoongi who broke your heart, who wanted to hide away in his substances. This was a culmination of all the Yoongi’s he had been and became. A strong, broken, healed, confident, loving man.
“I would love that.”
This was the Yoongi you were meant to be with. The man who you loved more than life itself.
Yoongi had courted you again since that initial coffee date. He sent flowers to your workplace, asked you out to lunch, kept things simple, proper and conservative. Yoongi was in this now, for the long haul, and wanted to prove his devotion to you.
While in rehab, they had forced Yoongi to face the fact that everything he did in relation to you was self-sabotaging, self-deprecating; a self-defeating prophecy. Facing that was his greatest struggle through his entire treatment process. He fought against it, even relapsed a few times because of it, and refused to accept that as a possibility.
Yoongi, with the help of Seokjin and his new friends, found that a world that didn’t revolve around you was finally a world he could live in, possibly thrive in. While you could exist in his world, making you his sole singular reason for breathing was dangerous. In that mindset, being without you meant dying.
Yoongi had finally lived for himself. Not for the money, the fame., the status, the reputation, or even you. Yoongi loved himself, as he was. Broken and healing. Addicted and sober. Yoongi lived for Min Yoongi, alone.
When he started seeing you again, he reached out to Seokjin. He was terrified that diving back in to you would be his undoing. Seokjin, in all his wisdom, spoke words of comfort.
“She is not your entire world, Yoongi. You are your entire world,” he spoke gently through the phone. “She can be part of your world, an enormous part of your world, but she cannot be the entirety. Life does not stop without her. Life is better with her, but does not end without her.”
Yoongi had been so obsessed with the idea of never having you, that he lost you. He stopped loving himself, stopped caring about anything but you and the pain he caused you.
“You hurt her, yes. But, it appears she is ready to forgive you now. Are you ready to forgive yourself and allow yourself to be vulnerable?” He asked the blonde boy.
Yoongi rolled the idea through his mind. “Yeah, I think I am.”
“You are allowed to love and be loved by who you want, Yoongi, but do not make your entire existence rely on that. Loving yourself will extend into all other relationships. And do not allow yourself to be consumed with the mistakes you made a long time ago. Focus on what you can do today. Living in the past causes us the most pain. Do not run from the pain, allow it to sit within you and give yourself permission to hurt, and then move through it.”
Yoongi allowed it all. Every emotion, every feeling. He cried. Jesus, he cried so much. He remembered that he used to think if he started crying he would never stop.
It was true, mostly.
But what Yoongi didn’t know was that within all the crying, all the pain, was a high unmatched by any substance that could be snorted or injected or smoked.
Yoongi no longer hid himself from feeling the darkness, but he allowed himself to remain in it until the light came back. And it came back ten thousand times stronger.
Yoongi felt encouraged to continue seeing you and progressed in his career and treatment. He took you on dinner dates, movie dates, picnics and theme parks. The only reservation was the lack of physical intimacy. He would hold your hand, kiss you, rub your back, but he always left your apartment without lingering. He wanted you to get to know him again, all of him, before he took that step. He wanted to do this right.
It was at the most recent date where things changed. It was a relaxing picnic in the park, the two of you laid in the soft sun-warmed grass, your head resting on his chest.
Yoongi felt content at the feeling of holding you against him. He thought of the dream he had when he was overdosing, nearly dying. Being so warm in the valley and meadows of his imagination, brain synapses firing off as his body shut down. You had been there, pretty white dress, telling him to go back, to wake up.
He admitted this to you, spoke out what he had told no one before. While he knows Jimin, with the help of Narcan, saved you, his subconscious attributed his revival to you.
“I’m in love with you, Yoongi,” you admitted, gently and easily with tears clouding your eyes, as you both watched the clouds roll by.
Neither of you had uttered those words since you held him in your arms and within you as he came down from his high so long ago.
Yoongi let the words soak over him. If he thought drugs had been like a warm blanket wrapping him up, this was like an absolute inferno of satisfaction and comfort.
The arm he wrapped around your shoulder pulled you close.
“I’m in love with you, too.”
Yoongi pressed you up against his wall, lips crashing into yours as his hands desperately sought the skin of your waist.
After the picnic, Yoongi suggested taking you back to his place for a movie. The charged energy in his car on the way there spoke volumes, knowing you wouldn’t be watching a movie by a long shot. A giddy grin lit up your features.
“God, I missed this,” he mumbled against your lips as his hands lifted your white sundress you bought specifically for the date with your ex-fiancé, now-boyfriend.
You moaned an affirmative reply, gasping as his hands rolled over your breasts, encased in creamy satin.
“I missed you,” he mumbled over your lips, hands tugging down the cups of your bra to rub against hardened nipples. “You’re so pretty, so warm.”
You couldn’t hold back any sound, gasping and keening at his touch. You were soaked, absolutely dripping, from his ministrations against your neck and breasts. You missed him too. Your short-lived engagement had ended without a wedding, for the second time in your life, and you pined after the boy who stole and broke your heart completely.
Yoongi pulled away from you, using the separation to tug the dress up and over your head and to gaze at you. Your breasts were haphazardly pulled out of the bra, your panties becoming slick against your core. Yoongi was sure he had never felt a pleasure this strong in any high.
“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured. Your cheeks heated, you couldn’t help it. Hearing him speak so gently, so lovingly, after so long and after so much pain flooded your senses pleasantly. His words wrapped around you like cashmere, warming and smoothing every inch of you.
“I need you, Yoongi,” you whispered, hand reaching towards his erection tenting his jeans. “Want to please you.”
Yoongi hissed at the feeling of your hand against his length. He nearly came right then. He hadn’t slept with anyone since your last time, the most heartbreaking sex he had ever had.
The feeling of you both crying as he entered you kept him turned off of it for over a year. And now you were back, pliant in his arms, and most of all, happy. He never wanted to see your anguished grief during sex again, or ever, if he could help it.
Your eyes looked so determined to please him, how could Yoongi say no? He nodded and leaned forward to kiss you, before switching positions and resting his back against the wall.
You thrilled at the switch and quickly dropped to your knees. Being on your knees in front of Yoongi was so familiar, so comforting and so incredibly hot. He looked so good. You could tell he had been working out. Muscles shone through his skin, and detailed lines appeared at his obliques and hip flexors. He was mouth watering. You missed him.
You loved him.
You made quick work of his jeans, unbuttoning the black denim and pushing down the zip and sliding the tight pants down and off his legs. He stood in his tight underwear and shirt, eyes so full of love and grace, staring down at you. He couldn’t believe it was happening again, and on such better terms.
Yoongi knew he had so much to make up to you, so much trust to build and apologies to promise you daily. Yoongi was grateful you were giving him that chance again.
Within moments, Yoongi’s boxers laid on the floor next to his jeans and his thick, heavy cock laid hot in your delicate hand.
Yoongi nearly cried at the sensation. Not only had it been long since any stimulation, it had been so long since he had been with you. The fact it was you again after all this time held the most significance to him.
Your eyes flicked between Yoongi’s thick and delicious cock, and his own face. No longer was the selfish, uncaring man present from so long ago. No longer was the drugged out, sorrowful, too thin addict in front of you.
As you pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of his cock and swirled your tongue around the tip, you felt amazed that you now had the confident, lovely, compassionate Yoongi you were in love with.
Yoongi groaned out loud, uncaring if Jungkook or Taehyung heard from their respective rooms in his shared apartment.
“Oh fuck, baby,” he whined, sucking air in through his teeth harshly. “So good.”
A smile danced upon your features as you stroked each vein and ridge of his cock with your tongue, flicking at the space he liked most. The resulting gasp encouraged you more. With a quick, deep breath, you lowered your mouth and fully encompassed his length in the hollow of your throat.
Yoongi nearly screamed, pleasure coursing through his veins as you allowed him to fuck your throat, a mix of gentle and rough. Your moans spurred him on and the visage of you with your lips wrapped around his cock and saliva streaming down the sides of your mouth nearly forced his undoing.
“Shit, C-Christ, baby,” he gasped. “I’m gonna cum if you keep that up… fuck.” He grabbed at your hair to gently pull your mouth away from him.
You pouted for a split second, already missing the luscious heat and weight of his hard cock gagging you. The pout was quickly wiped away as he wrapped his arms around your waist and carried you to the bed, unable to stop the giggles escaping.
“My turn then,” he grinned as he pushed you down to lie on the pillows. He quickly disrobed you of your bra, tits now fully on display. He sucked one into his mouth, tongue swirling over the bud, while his other hand pinched and tugged at the opposite. He remembered how much you enjoyed the pain of nipple stimulation. The thought made you wetter.
“Yoongi, holy shit,” you cried, dazzled at the pain in your nipples as he bit down gently at the one in his mouth. “Yes!”
Yoongi couldn’t help the smirk on his face as he switched hands and nipples, sucking the other harshly now and twisting at the wet and red nub he released.
“So good, princess,” he cooed. “So good for me.”
His mouth moved south, kisses burning up your skin as he trailed. He suckled at skin here and there, leaving delicious marks on your abdomen and thighs. You loved being marked by him, even more so now.
Yoongi groaned as he pulled your satin panties down your legs. Your cunt was slick and sticking to the fabric. His mouth watered at the sight.
“My sweet, you’re so wet for me. All from sucking my cock?” He murmured, teasing you by kissing at your thighs. “My dirty little princess.”
You mewled in response, aching to feel him where you needed it most. Words escaped you, unable to speak except in moans and sighs.
Yoongi looked up at you, watched your cheeks turn pink, your nipples hard and moistened from his mouth, marks of him all down your body. His cock throbbed, and he rubbed himself against the bed once to relieve some tension. He could hold himself back for now, but he knew as time passed he would be absolutely aching to plunge into your depths.
“I missed this cunt,” he pressed a kiss to the mound. “I’m sure you taste just as perfect as you always have. I’m drooling for you, baby.”
“P-please, Yoongi, I need you,” you begged, squeezing your eyes closed in desperation. “So wet.”
“I love hearing you say please, little princess. So sweet.” He kissed the outside of your lips, between your thighs. He loved teasing you, getting you absolutely fucked out before he even touched you.
“Please, oh god Yoongi! I need you so badly!” You were desperate now, nearly tearing up at the ache in your pussy.
“I can’t resist you when you put it like that,” he teased, before finally descending on your cunt. His mouth swirled around, sucking on your clit. You gasped your satisfaction at his touch, finally satisfying that burning desire.
Yoongi took his time, ensured pleasure at each twist and flick of his tongue. He fucked into your cunt with his tongue, groaning at the sweet taste of your channel. His mouth suckled at your clit, transitioning between harsh sucks, and tongue flicks. As he flicked up against your bundle of nerves, he slid two fingers into your pussy, hissing at the tightness.
“So tight, my sweet,” he whispered. “Can’t wait to feel you on my cock.”
You groaned in reply, nodding quickly. Your fingers tugged at your nipples, relishing in the painful stimulation there and hot mouth coaxing an orgasm out of you.
“Close, Yoongi!” You gasped, unable to complete a sentence. “Right there! So close!”
His fingers thrusted faster, slipping a third to stretch you out. His tongue fired rapidly against your clit, suckling and swirling as he went.
“Yes, baby, cum for me. Cum on my fingers, my love.” He encouraged, panting with excitement, to watch your undoing.
It only took Yoongi’s salacious words and skilled mouth and fingers toying a few more moments for the orgasm to completely take over. It rolled over you like an avalanche. You screamed in delight, gasping as you felt your channel grip his fingers and milk them as if it were his cock.
Yoongi believed he was watching heaven, itself. You looked divine, radiant. The feeling of your convulsions around his fingers made him whine, cock head oozing pre-cum and begging to be stuffed inside your heat.
“Fuck, my love. You came so good, you did so well for me,” he praised. “I love this cunt. I love watching you scream for me.”
Your breath was heavy, chest heaving with exertion. Every nerve, every synapse felt alive, alight with ecstasy.
“I’m going to fuck you, my sweet. I will fuck you and love you, all fucking night.” He sucked at the wetness on his fingers as he pulled out of you, before he kissed back up your body to your lips. The kiss was hot and messy, all teeth and no grace or finesse.
“Please, Yoongi, I need to feel your cock,” you gasped.
Yoongi could not delay any longer. His cock felt as if it might implode if it wasn’t buried into you. He pulled your legs up to his shoulders and gazed at your open slit.
“Mine,” he whispered as he lined himself up and allowed your pussy to swallow his length.
There were no words, no accurate description or way to describe how being inside you again felt. He couldn’t put into words the feeling of your slick heat hugging his cock close, your body heaving with ecstasy, your mouth crying his name in joy and pleasure. Yoongi would go through hell a million times over again to feel this again, to feel the physical and emotional love and pleasure he felt here.
You were his, again. He could work to make it right.
Yoongi started a slow pace, transfixed at the vision of you taking his cock so well. Your gasps and whines encouraged him.
“You were made for me,” he whispered as he quickened. “This tight little pussy was made for me, to love and to fuck and to ruin.” His words left his mouth without thought, acting on instinct alone. “You’re all mine. Only mine.”
You clutched at his arms, lifting your hips to meet his harsh thrusts. “Yes, baby, yours!” Your voice was five octaves higher. “All yours!”
Yoongi turned feral, his dominating internal narrative spewing from his lips. His cock thrusted into you quick and fast.
“That’s right, my love. All fucking mine. Gonna fuck you so good every fucking day,” he promised through gritted teeth. His thumb ran down to the apex of your thighs and rubbed at your clit. “Gonna fuck all my cum into you, baby. You’re mine.”
He continued his ministrations and your pussy felt like the definition of pleasure, itself. Sparks felt as if they erupted from your coupling. You cried his name, gasping at his possessive promises.
“Gonna marry you, baby,” he intoned. “Gonna make you my wife.” He felt his end coming close, your shattered cries and impossibly tight cunt bringing him soaring to the edge.
“Gonna fill you with my cum, gonna make you nice and fucking pregnant with our children,” the idea thrilled both of you. “My fucking perfect wife all swollen with our children.”
You agreed loudly. “Yes! Fuck me! Fuck, I want your baby!”
“That’s right, my little love. Your greedy cunt takes me so well. I know you want all my cum, wanna be nice and full for me.”
The end was nigh, you could feel the burning in your stomach blaze higher and higher. You begged him for more, harder, deeper, which he was more than happy to oblige.
“Fuck, babe, I’m gonna cum, gonna coat your tight little pussy.”
It only took a few more rough poundings before Yoongi crushed your lips together. Your orgasm washed over you with the power of the sun. Your eyes nearly rolled back into their sockets, gasping for air against his lips as your body convulsed. You moaned loudly as your walls pulsed around him, as if begging him to give you more and more.
Yoongi closed his eyes and soaked in the feeling, biting your bottom lip as he spilled into you, moaning your name with each pulse. The feeling of emptying himself into you rivaled the highest emotion he had ever felt. It felt like the ultimate expression of his love, his devotion.
He held you close as you both breathed heavily, allowing the afterglow of intense orgasm to bathe you in serenity. He carefully slid his cock from within you, groaning at the sight of a slow drip of seed following out your lips.
“I love you,” he murmured, leaning to kiss your lips tenderly this time. “I meant what I said. I want you to be mine again, forever.”
Tears sparked at your eyes, feeling more full, more loved, more warm than you had ever felt before.
“I love you, Min Yoongi.”
Yoongi held you in his arms as he showered you, kissed your body in the warm water, dried you gently with soft towels, and pulled you close in his bed. You melted against his body perfectly, two puzzle pieces who had been trying to force themselves into the wrong spot, finally coming together.
‘We cordially invite you to the wedding of…’
Min Yoongi felt anxious.
His stomach flipped. His palms were sweaty. His breathing was faster.
A warm hand landed on his back as the ex-rapper stared at himself in the mirror.
“You did it,” a gentle voice spoke. Yoongi looked at the male through the mirror.
“Jimin,” he breathed, feeling a bit of his anxiousness float away with his friend’s words.
Jimin smiled, pink lips puffy and sweet as always.
Yoongi felt his heart clench slightly. Jimin was the one who saved his life, who stuck a needle in his thigh and revived him when Yoongi was on the verge of death. He choked up at the idea that being here wouldn’t have been possible without the pink-haired boy.
He gazed at his trusted friend, no longer an assistant but a constant companion in the tight group of 7. He wanted to tell Jimin so much, thank him for saving his life, for pressuring him to check into rehab, for feeding him when he was too drugged out to care.
Yoongi didn’t need to say anything. Jimin understood at the tears pricking Yoongi’s eyes. Jimin’s cheeks turned pink, and he nodded slowly.
“You deserve this and more, Min Yoongi,” his voice was full of such care and sincerity. “I may have revived you, but you saved your own life. I just gave you the spark to continue it.”
Yoongi had started his adult life as an addict, as an award-winning musical artist with platinum albums and money, status, reputation. Grief had consumed Yoongi, along with regret, sorrow, loneliness.
Yoongi fought back, pushed against the odds.
Yoongi was beginning a fresh life—as a recovering addict, a therapist, a best friend, a husband.
He smiled at himself in the mirror as his groomsmen surrounded him and joined in the moment of happiness. It was peaceful. It was joyful. Yoongi smiled at each of the 6 men who affected him.
Hoseok, from childhood who allowed him to face the ugly fact that he was killing himself. Namjoon, his nurturing manager, who protected him at all costs and stood by his side through each dirt-dredging tabloid. Taehyung, his creative muse, his inspiration. Jungkook, his reason for health and wellness, his comedic relief. Seokjin, the therapist that changed his life and course of his future. Jimin, the man who saved his life, who accepted and expected nothing in return except Yoongi’s sobriety and happiness.
Together, the men walked out of the dressing room and orderly into the reception hall.
Yoongi took his place at the altar, the very one he left you at, and inhaled a breath.
The piano played gently, a soft and light version of the traditional song. It sounded ethereal. Yoongi felt as if he was flying.
The large, oak double doors swung open and the parade of flower girls and bridesmaids walked down the aisle to stand opposite the groomsmen.
Yoongi stopped breathing as the music played louder, more intently, more beautiful.
You appeared.
You looked like an angel.
Your mother flanked you to give you away. You both looked more beautiful than he could have ever recalled.
Yoongi couldn’t stifle the tears that poured out of his eyes. He couldn’t pull his gaze from anywhere but you.
There you were. Walking towards him, as if a dream. The loveliest of dreams. Wrapped in silk and chiffon and lace, delicate pearls around your neck.
Yoongi would endure it all again, feel every ounce, to have this moment.
It was complete as you stood next to him, hands clasped in each other, tears sliding down each other’s face.
At the word of the pastor, Yoongi leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours, sealing you as husband and wife, finally.
Yoongi was on the inside of your orbit now, basking in the warmth he had desired before on the outside. Yoongi simmered in the sweet, gentle glow of you and your encompassing love.
Now, Yoongi knew what it felt like to be the one on the inside of your world, instead of looking in from the darkness. Yoongi knew it now, and knew, with all his heart, that he deserved to remember it for the rest of his long, healthy life.
Yoongi was living.
Yoongi was finally, truly,
alive.
© ppersonna - 2020 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.
#bangtanarmynet#ficswithluv#ksmutclub#hyungsmutsociety#btswriterscollective#minthlynet#heartsforbts#bts fic#bts smut#bts angst#bts yoongi#yoongi smut#yoongi angst#agust d#bts agust d#bts suga#suga
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A moments glance | B.B x Fem!Reader
Requests are open!!!!!
Summary: Bucky misses the feeling of human connection, both emotional and physical, so does Y/N. After a particularly brutal mission the two can deny their want any longer
Warnings: Language, angst? SMUT! (probably badly written but oh well) This fic is a lot longer than I wanted but it’s worth it I promise.
Missions are normally pretty easy. Luckily it was the dream team that got stuck on this mission together. Sam, Bucky, and Y/n stood around a base layout, making a plan as to how to get this mission to sail smoothly. It was a simple job, repo a plane that had been stolen and return it to the owners, aka the fucking US Military.
“So Y/n has pilot knowledge so if we can get through the fence and to it she can fly it back here to base, easy,” Sam explained the plan to the soldiers.
“Sam and Bucky will go with me as my second hands and eyes, be my body guards,” Y/n nodded and looked up. “This is an easy job so it shouldn’t take long, maybe a couple hours, but stay on standby in case force is needed,” the woman stood straight and tapped her fingers on the table. The crew split into the groups, taking their places. Sam sat in the drivers seat of the car while Y/n sat in the front and Bucky was stuck in the back.
“We’re here, everyone ready?” Sam asked and threw the car in park.
“Are we ever ready?” Bucky snarked and stepped out. The three were greeted by a fence with barbed wire across the top.
“Can we break it down?” Bucky looked between the two.
“That my dear would be destruction of property, a charge none of us can afford right now,” She huffed and opened the backseat, pulling the floor mat out.
“What the hell are you doing with that?” Sam looked at the girl as if she was crazy.
“Throwing the mat over the wire?” she furrowed her brow and tossed the mat over the fence and scaled it.
“Coming? or am I leaving you two dummies for the birds?” she smirked.
“Ha ha very funny,” Sam snarked back.
“This guy,” she smiled playfully at Bucky, who in return smiled back, a small one, but a smile.
“There she is, look at this beauty,” Y/n motioned to the plane. The three climbed in, starting the engine.
“Bucky once we’re in the air I want you to contact the air force and tell them their plane is on it’s way,” she spoke calmly as she started down the runway. She was setting up controls when Bucky’s voice broke their silence.
“Uh guys? I think we got company,” a black SUV sped down the runway, stopping before two guys stepped out wielding guns.
“Pull up!” Sam yelled the girl.
“I’m trying,” she yelled back, the plane getting closer before finally taking off. The firing followed them up into the air.
“Looks like we’re clear,” Y/n took a breath.
“There’s probably a reason they didn’t want us taking the plane,” Bucky commented.
“If I had to guess, drugs, I mean the air force tests flights so much that nobody bats an eye, especially at fort carson,” the woman nodded. “Sam can you check all of the compartments?” she looked back at him.
“Yeah, of course,” he tipped his head and began opening the compartments lining the walls, bags of cocaine spilled out of an overhead bin.
“Oh shit, that’s thousands of dollars worth of hard drugs right there,” she peered back at the mess.
“yeah no shit, what do we do?”
“Get on the comms and alert them of what’s happening”
“on it”
The blaring sound took over their voices.
“What the hell is going on?” Bucky asked
“We’re losing altitude, buckle in for a crash landing”
“I’m sorry what?!”
“Do it!” she barked “Sam jump and get to the base, let them know what happened, go now!” she was barking orders at them.
“I’ll hurry back” Sam called and jumped, catching wind just in time.
“So what are we just going to die?”
“No, not if I can help it. But we are going to have to drop into the mountains, so hold on to something,” she gave him a sympathetic look. The plane crashed down into the mountain, losing the wings in the process. The two climbed out, seemingly unharmed.
“So what are we just going to sit here and wait?” Bucky looked at the girl.
“I’m afraid so, we can’t risk moving, they won’t find us,” she huffed and slumped against an aspen tree.
“Great,” Bucky huffed and sat across from her, against a fallen pine log. The two sat in silence for a few minutes, the ringing in their ears taking over.
“Have you ever been this far west?” Y/n asked. Bucky peeked up at her. Sighing he tossed a rock to his left.
“No, at least, not that I can recall,” he looked back at the dirt.
“It’s pretty, Pikes peak is worth the view, if you ever get to go,” she cleared her throat, awkwardness settling in.
“You been?”
“Yeah, I uh, I grew up here, in springs, that’s why I knew about the fort carson stuff. They always test fly and they take kids for rides sometimes. also teach kids how to pilot when they reach a certain age,” she trailed off.
“Military brat?”
“Yeah”
“I never knew that,” he looked at her, really looked at her. He noticed how she sat with her knees up, but her shoulders slumped. Her she chewed on the inside of her lip.
“I never really told anyone,” she shrugged,”You know we have worked on the same team for I don’t know how many years and yet I feel like I hardly know you,” she remarked. Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat.
“I don’t really open up to people, it’s not something I do,” it was his turn to chew on his lip.
“I get it, you up walls, try and protect yourself. . .”she trailed off, a soft rustling in the brush caught her attention. She held her finger to her lips and slowly stood, Bucky following her move. The two crouched and ducked behind some bush.
“They couldn’t have gotten far, move,” a mans voice barked. Y/n looked at Bucky with wide eyes. Bucky scanned the are before nodding to a path, they crept their way over, carful not to make too much noise. One they had gotten far enough away they stood straight and starting sprinting.
“The guys that hijacked the plane?” She asked.
“That’s my guess,” he shrugged.
“Bucky I need to stop,” she panted, trying to catch her breath.
“We’re probably far enough away,” he slowed to a stop.
“I’m sorry,” she took a ragged breath
“It’s fine, not all of us are, what do you like to say? built different,” he cracked a smile. Y/n smiled back at him before they broke off into laughter.
“You remembered that dumb saying?”
“I try to remember them all, I’m trying to make my place in this world, and if that means learning the lingo then I guess I have to”
“Must be hard,” she stood next to him, “trying to get used to this”
“you have no ide-” a gunshot and a scream of pain cut him off. His eyes shot in the direction of the shot before landing on the girl, crumpled on the forest floor.
“Shit” he scooped her up and started sprinting west.
“Shit shit shit, hey doll, if you can hear me keep your eyes open you hear,” he peeked down at her. She was clutching her stomach.
“Tell me something, tell me about, tell me about your house of a kid,” he scrambled to find anything to talk about.
“yellow,” she breathed,” it was yellow” He caught sight of a cave and ducked into it.
“keep going”
“It had, two floors and an attic, the uh, the upstairs had a balcony,” she took deep breaths. Bucky pulled out a knife and cut the bottom of his shirt, putting pressure on his wound.
“Bucky?” she looked at him as close as she could
“yeah?”
“What was your favorite part about the forties?”
He laughed. “The stupid dive bars, going dancing,” he thought for a second.
“Were you any good?” Y/n teased.
“Oh please, look at me, I was the best,” he said, jokingly cocky. The silence took over. The only sound was a ragged breath every now and then. Y/n Held her phone up.
“Nothing,” she felt tears well up in her eyes.
“Bucky?” She got his attention.
“yeah Y/n? what’s up?”
“If i’m going to die today, can I at least get to know you before I go?” she asked
“Listen to me, and you listen to me good, you ain’t dying today got it?” he spoke sharply, but with concern laced and weaved in his voice.
“In my jacket is a pack of matched, I saw some twigs and pinecones at the opening of the cave, grab them, make a fire, please, i’m freezing,” she pleaded. Bucky didn’t say anything as he obliged. The small fire illuminated the walls, but was small enough that they wouldn’t be spotted. Bucky sat across from Y/n, he watched as she scanned the walls.
“Mica,” she spoke plainly.
“Yeah, ton of the shit too,” he kind of huffed, looking around.
“They used to make windows out of it, for cars and shit, also dry wall, but most importantly it used for stuff like spark plugs,and electronic components like compasses during world war 2 ” she stated, half heartedly. Bucky looked at the girl shocked.
“Yeah, thats- how’d you know that?”
“Grandpa fought in the war, told me all kinds of stories before he passed, also taught me about minerals and stuff before he passed too, he and dad used to take me camping, they’d teach me how to hunt, farm, fish, find and purify water, which berries and shrooms are good to eat, case I ever got lost,” she laughed and winced at the pain. “I miss them,” she sighed.
“Those are good skills to have,” Bucky smiled at her. He went silent. It had been a few hours, no sign of anyone. He looked at Y/n, she didn’t look great, she was pale, she was growing tired. He didn’t want her to be miserable, or to die not knowing him.
“My name is James Buchanan Barnes, I was born March 10th 1917, I have a younger sister named Rebecca, we called her Becca,” He spoke up. Y/n looked at him with a smile and nodded him on to continue, “I’ve always wanted a cat, and if I could have kids i’d want a daughter, I’d name her Scarlett,” he stammers on. The young woman listens attentively. Her breathing became slower, more strained.
“no no no, don’t fucking die on me,” he jumped over to her, clutching her wound. “Please, I barley know you, I want to know more,” he pleaded. She smiled at him and held her blood soaked hand to his cheek.
“thank you,” she husked before her eyes rolled back.
“No!” he yelled.
“Bucky?!” Sam, it was Sam, and the air force. Bucky was pulled away as they loaded Y/n onto the chopper and raced her back to base. Hot tears slipped down his face as the world seemed to slow down. His connection, the one person he started to open up to was ripped from his arms, just as the walls came tumbling down.
He sat pacing the hospital room, her body laid limp in the bed, unmoving, just as it had for the past two days. The nurses tried to get him to go home, but after the third shift change and his protests to stay after visiting hours they gave up. He stared out the window, looking to the mountains, they were still capped with snow. He remembers her saying she was freezing, he recognizes that feeling now. Cold, unmoving, dead.
“Hey champ,” a hoarse voice spoke in the room. He spun on his heels, Her eyes were opened, still droopy from the pain killer, but opened.
“Thank god you’re okay,” he yanked a chair beside her and clutched her hand.
“I should’ve believed you,” she cracked a smile, Bucky felt his eyes well. Why? He still barely knew her.
“My name is Y/n L/n I was born (your birthday), I have no siblings, I have always wanted a dog and if I had a kid i’d want a little boy named Matthew,” she squeezed his hand slightly.
“Good morning,” another womans voice broke the room with a knock. “I’m your nurse for this morning, my name is Sarah Good, yes like the book the crucible and i’ll take care of you till 7 tonight,” she smiled at the two brightly. “Todays agenda, always will be on the board, we want to get you to be able to be in a sitting position, and we want to start PT, or physicsl therapy if we can, We’re going to try and get you a real lunch today, and if we’re lucky you can get off those iv’s by tomorrow”
The last week was rough, But Bucky sat beside her through it all, they talked about life, about death, the world, every little thing they could think of. When she was released it was Bucky who escorted her back across the country to home. Sam met them at her apartment for diner and a toast to a job not so smooth for the dream team, now stronger that all three had a bond. Sam had left about an hour ago, Bucky insisted on staying to help clean up.
“Bucky, really this is too much to ask, it’s fine,”
“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s the least I can do”
“It’s late, do you want to stay? I mean I can take the couch and you can take my bed it-”
“I’m not taking your bed doll, I’ll take the couch if you really want me to stay but it’s not a problem for me to go home,” he smiled at her and set the last plate in the dish washer.
“I kind of got used to you staying around,” she blushed. “We can watch a movie?” she offered.
“Sounds great”
They weren’t paying attention to the movie, well at least they pretended to, Each watched the other out of the corner of their eyes. It was Y/n who made the first move, leaning her head on his shoulder, Bucky tucked his arm around the woman, inching her closer. She felt her face get hot, she peered up at him to find him looking back, they ripped their eyes apart and both went flush.
“Bucky-
Y/n I-” they spoke at the same time, letting out a laugh.
“Go first,” he insisted.
“No, it’s fine,” she stammered.
“Y/n I- I really like you, I’m glad I let down my walls for you,” he swallowed the lump in his throat. She felt her breath hitch.
“I was going to say the same thing,” she spoke, barely above a whisper. It hadn’t occurred to the couple just how close they were to each other. Y/n felt Bucky’s breath dance across her face.
“Can I. . . can I kiss you?” he breathed out. She sim-ply nodded and met his lips, soft and delicate at first before he set his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her in. Her lips were intoxicating, he could get drunk on her. She let a moan slip as he pulled her into his lap gently. He felt his eyes roll at the sound. She ground into his lap, letting the feeling of his growing bulge tease her. She laced her fingers in his short hair, gently tugging where she could, causing a groan and for him to buck his hip to meet hers. Y/n pulled back panting, trying to catch her breath before moving her lips to meet his neck.
“Y/n doll, I uh- it’s been a while,” he panted and fought the moans that threatened to leave his throat.
“It’s okay, let me take care of you?” she caught his eyes. Her face was pure, innocent, but her words were laced with lust. He nodded and let his hands grip her hips. She tugged his shirt off of his body, decorating his chest with kisses, working and inching her way to his hips. She looked up at him, he was a mess, head laid back, breathing ragged. She carefully undid his pants and slid them down his legs. catching the skin above his hip bones she left a small purple mark on either side, claiming him as hers. He had looked down at her now, catching her eyes. She licked her lips before taking him into her mouth, The moan he let rip from vocal cords was ungodly.
“Fuck, doll I -” he let his eyes meet hers, still laced with innocence, before groaning and throwing his head back. He let his air out in puffs as she worked him over. Her touch was delicate and sweet, he forgot how nice it felt, to be taken care of, to be treated with kindness. She let her fingers slip to cup his balls, gently playing with them as she let her pretty mouth suck his cock. The sight was straight out of a wet dream,
“I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop,” he pleaded, grabbing her hair with his flesh hand, clutching the couch with the metal one. The small breaths he let out only encouraged him further, she picked up her pace, daring him to cum down her throat. A string of fucks and his hips tensing, and slowly relaxing followed soon after. She caught his eyes, swallowing what he gave her and grinning at him.
“Holy-”
“Yeah,” she smiled.
“Let me return the favor baby,” he pulled her back into his lap.
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Highway to heaven
ok so uh…this is my first time posting something I’ve written, idk why this particular one keeps begging to be posted it’s antsy af and I hurt my own feeling, I wrote it monthsssss ago and just went back to add to it sooooo here yall go 😩 also no permission giving for anyone to reuse this in any form, but please reblog, like, leave nice comments all that good shit 😘
also written with PoC in mind (though the only mention of something specific is hair) and not really sure what warnings to tag so if any just let me know!
now let me go hide 😁😁😁
x
She stretched one of her arms out the window, Feeling the air rushed past it, pushing her arm up and down. Her smile completely contagious. She was the happiest she had been in the past few weeks and August knew it. He didn’t need to be around her that whole time to know, he always seen it the moment she saw him and her mind could process he was alive and back with her.
Since he came home less then 24hrs ago from his most recent mission, he hadn’t seen the smile drop from her face, he knew she could say the same about him.
Usually he drove but he couldn’t resist when she begged him to let her drive his super expensive white sports car. He obviously didn’t get to drive it much as he was always away, and when he was home he mostly spent it trapping her in their bed or away on a surprise vacation, like today. After hours of catching up and fucking her on every surface of their shared home he surprised her with a week away in a cabin. The cabin was his own and was well equipped to deal with anything that may arise, completely secured.
He knew he could be called back into work at any moment but he had good insight that he’d have at least a week where he wouldn’t have to leave her or the cabin. Maybe just for more champagne and her favorite dairy free ice cream depending on her mood during their stay but that was it about the only thing that could get August to leave.
Her laughter brought him back to the present moment. He smiled as he turned to her.
“Yes?”
“I asked if you like what you see Walker” she said throwing him a quick flirty look over her shoulder before focusing on the road. “Your staring at me all doe eyed” she giggled.
He laughed and shook his head, he was completely smitten and they both knew it. Anyone who spent time around them could see it was mutual. For as hard and cruel of a man as August was and seen as, she was his weakness. His weakness and strength actually, because he would do any and everything for her and that could be used in either way. She was the light in his life and she loved him completely, wholly.
“I love what I see actually” He answered staring at her again, watching her bite her lip as a smile took over her face. Her eyes caught his for a moment as she ran her hand down the side of his face, nails and fingertips leaving a tingling trail behind, as he stored this moment and everything about her in his memory, he would need it for when he left on this next mission. Bringing anything personal or that would lead anyone back to her was not an option for him. She was well aware of what he did and why she couldn’t call, only wait for his calls. He pushed it from his mind, praying it would be a while before he had to leave her again.
She hummed to the music as they noticed the traffic up ahead, must be road work August thought. His fingers tapped the car door as his arm lazily hung half in and half out. He noticed her head snap down causing her long box braids to sway. She looked toward her feet, her face confused when she looked back up ahead of them.
“Love, what’s wrong?”
Her stomach dropped and her skin turned to ice as she her eyes went back and forth between her foot and the traffic coming closer up ahead. She was unable to form words to tell him, her mind raced with what to do. Her face turned to him completely in fear, mouth slightly parted in a silent cry. August body went tense, rigid as a steel rod as he slowly grasped what he thought was happening, it can’t be.
The brakes
Someone cut the breaks
August looked up at the traffic in the distance that they were speeding towards, he had to push back the thought who and of when someone would have had the opportunity and focus on what was happening. His mind snapped out the fog when he heard her.
“August!”
She was trying to pump the break, willing it to start working as tears ran down her face.
“August it isn’t working!” She yelled.
August scanned the scene in front of them. Up ahead was dead stop traffic, and on their sides, woods and then metal railings dividing it from the other on coming traffic. There was no clear opening to drive into. The traffic would cause head on collision which had a high chance of death and the railing along the left sides of them also had a high death rate surprisingly. The trees and boulders of the right side weren’t an option either. He couldn’t eject them out of the car at this speed, especially with the traffic that’s following further behind them. Cars wouldn’t have enough time to stop if they didn’t notice their body’s on the pavement. Another sure death.
He looked up at her as her own eyes searched looking for an exit, an out point. Her face slowly succumbing to grief as she realized they had none. Every option a high chance of death with the speed they were going.
The knot in August stomach was a feeling he had never felt before. He had been so careful with her, to keep her out of the line of danger. Some how he had missed something and literally put her in the front seat of danger.
“Turn the steering wheel towards me and get down! By the time we make impact-“
“No!....No!” She yelled through her tears and sobs, she had realized what he was trying to do. He wanted to take the impact, he wanted his life on the line not hers.
“Please August! There must be another-“
“There isn’t!! Turn the wheel now!! We don’t have time!” He yelled as the traffic got closer. Their speed closing the distance fast.
Her eyes danced over his face for a moment, a dreadful feeling growing in her stomach and spreading through her body, it was completely unbearable. She couldn’t live life without him. It wasn’t possible, she loved him too much. She would die for him.
“I’m so sorry August, I love you” she said as she stared into his eyes, praying he seen everything she wouldn’t have time to say to him again. Her words were a wrecking ball into his very existence, it shattered his world.
His hands shot out to grab the wheel, as the understanding what she was saying hit him. It was too late though, she was turning the wheel and swinging the car in the opposite direction from what he instructed. If he tired to grab the wheel now he’d only cause the car to flip into traffic. He had no doubt her side would make impacted as the car swung and headed to slam into traffic.
She couldn’t take her eyes off him, she wouldn’t. She wanted him to be the last thing she saw even if it meant watching his desperate fight to save her. His eyes wild and full of fear, tears falling freely as he looked back and forth frantically before they finally landed on hers. Defeated.
She was a lively young woman she loved life before August BUT life with August was unmatched. So when she smiled at August, the kind of smile that told him she had been happier in the last 4 years with him then she had been her whole life, he felt his blood go cold.
No. He couldn’t give up. Not ever, especially not when she smiled at him like she was willing to lose it all to save him. She already saved August everyday of his life since he’s meet her. Saved him over and over again without even knowing it. When she snuggled into his chest late at night, barely awake, running her fingers through the lite fur of his chest hairs and lazily kissing the same spot she saved August, save him from night terrors of all the horrible things he’s done. When they swam naked in the Caribbean ocean off a secluded beach on that one vacation early on in their relationship and her wet body pressed into his begging for more kisses under the moonlight she saved him from ever wondering what life without love was like. What could life ever be without her? That kinda of world didn’t make sense to August.
August grabbed at her to pull her closer to his side, but her seatbelt prevented him from shielding her body with his when they felt the impact and then instantly the loud crash and breaking of glass completely over taking his senses before everything went black..
part 2 unknown
#august walker fanfiction#august walker x reader#august walker angst#Angsty august walker#henry cavill fanfic#august Walker fanfic#Henry cavill#august walker#August x PoC reader#Soft august#Soft august walker#UGHWRITES#UGHAUGUST
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more than words
50 words; 50 sentences
ao3
#01 - Motion
A spinning kick, a swing of blade — the two meet and hit but don’t hurt, and Nami sighs exasperatedly at such a pathetic display of a mating dance.
#02 - Cool
Zoro stands his ground as his enemy — finally, finally — falls unceremoniously on his back, unconscious, and Sanji thinks for a moment that the sight of Zoro — wild and victorious and ready to take on the world — looks kind of, maybe, slightly cool.
#03 - Young
Brook sees the two — dying to die for each other, the weight of their friends’ lives pulling down their shoulders — and he thinks too many people forget how young they still are.
#04 - Last
The Cook is the last person Zoro would consider lending a hand in a fight — “who would want to work together with that dumbass anyway,” he lies whenever anyone asks, and doesn’t admit that it’s because he trusts Sanji’s ability to stand his ground, wholly and fully.
#05 - Wrong
Sanji knows Zoro, like him, understands better than most — that this nakama thing isn’t just something you’d die for, but something you’d kill for, too.
#06 - Gentle
Sanji manages to catch Kitetsu before it rolls off from the deck during a storm, and in that moment, Zoro knows, from the reverent way he regards the swords in his hands, that this isn’t the first time the Cook has wielded one.
#07 - One
“Calm down, Marimo,” Sanji says with a dismissive wave of his hand when Zoro asks about the sword a few days later, “I’m not about to take your place as the ship’s swordsman; a cook doesn’t use his hands to fight, and I had a terrible teacher anyways.”
#08 - Thousand
“I’m worth two thousand men,” Zoro grumpily says, almost sulking, and Nami can’t resist patting his head like she would to a little boy pulling the pigtail of a girl he has a crush on.
#09 - King
You’re like the prince of Dumbass Kingdom, Zoro says, and it takes Sanji everything in him not to blurt out, Dumbass Kingdom sounds about right; wait ‘till you see the fucking king.
#10 - Learn
Watching Sanji converse fluently with a couple of tourists in a Northern language, Zoro wonders when he will ever stop learning something new about Sanji — or if he ever will, at all.
#11 - Blur
When Zoro finally comes to, the wounds from Bartholomeow Kuma is muted by Chopper’s medicine, a dull throb at the back of his consciousness; but the sharp pain against his heart feels raw still, visceral and razor-sharp, tucked alongside the ache of Sanji’s sacrifice.
#12 - Wait
“Wait,” he manages to croak out before Sanji flees the room, the word spilling out unbidden; he isn’t quite sure why, but he knows that he wants the Cook to stay.
#13 - Change
“Have some fucking decency ,” Sanji yells, throwing a shirt at Zoro’s direction; the brute has been walking around the ship bare-chested like an eyesore ever since they entered the summer island, and Sanji is just trying to do everyone a favor — and definitely not because there’s a different kind of heat pooling at the pit of his stomach.
#14 - Command
Robin watches the two in amusement — Zoro could have easily refused to be Sanji’s pack mule, and she can hear him grumbling about it still; and yet, here they are, once again, together at the island’s marketplace.
#15 - Hold
Sanji is rough around the edges, bristling at the slightest touch; Zoro knows he needs to be gentle, but he doesn’t quite remember the last time he held something that isn’t a hilt of a sword, without meaning to hurt . It’s a learning curve.
#16 - Need
Sanji knows Zoro is a dumbass, but it takes a special kind of stupid to think he would never be good enough for Sanji, when he’s all that Sanji has ever needed.
#17 - Vision
Zoro never regrets losing his eye, but he wishes, sometimes, he could still take in the sight of Sanji with an unimpaired vision, just to see more of him.
#18 - Attention
“You’re starting a fight, Marimo?” Sanji growls, voice low and dangerous, and Zoro thinks, yes, yes, anything to get you to look at me.
#19 - Soul
He loves the kid like a brother, but sometimes Zoro hates how Luffy can easily see past his gruff words and feigned ignorance; the way Luffy only needs to take one look at him to guess, “you’re worried about Sanji, aren’t you?”
#20 - Picture
He carries around everyone’s bounty posters, Sanji tells himself, and tries not to think too hard about how the only one he kept in his breast pocket is Zoro’s, folded neatly against his heart.
#21 - Fool
“This is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done so far,” Sanji says when they part, lips still tingling from their earlier kiss, because Zoro’s love is fierce and consuming and Sanji knows, ever since he was just a kid with the iron mask, that he doesn’t deserve any of this.
#22 - Mad
“Don’t you ever say that kind of shit again,” Zoro snarls, slamming the wall beside Sanji’s head, his voice trembling with a kind of anger Sanji has never seen him with before — frustrated, desperate. “You’re important to me, Cook.”
#23 - Child
Grow up and cast your dreams away, Sanji tells himself every day, the voice ringing in his ears; you stopped being a child deserving of a dream the moment you chained Zeff down to the ground.
#24 - Now
Grow up and cast your dreams away, Sanji wants to tell himself, but the voice stutters, drowned out by the sight of the kid bleeding on the deck of Baratie — he’s a swordsman, too, acknowledged by none other than Dracule Mihawk himself — but a kid still, throwing himself headfirst towards the case of his dreams, steps unweighted by regrets.
#25 - Shadow
Zoro doesn’t know which is worse — Sanji, forever running away from the shadow his brothers cast; or Zoro, chasing after someone who is no longer around to leave behind a shadow anymore.
#26 - Goodbye
After Whole Cake Island, there’s a period of time where Zoro would follow Sanji around the ship like a lost puppy, unwilling to let the Cook out of his sight; Usopp definitely didn’t expect Zoro to have such a cute side, and crouches over his new invention to hide his smile.
#27 - Hide
“We’re not doing that here,” Sanji hisses, and forces himself not to laugh at the pout on Zoro’s face; the galley might be secluded enough, but they’re still on the enemy ship’s galley.
#28 - Fortune
It is annoying, the way Sanji keeps reminding Zoro that he could have collected Mihawk’s bounty and lived the rest of his life in wealth; especially when Zoro would trade any riches in the world just to stay by the Cook’s side.
#29 - Safe
It catches Zoro off guard when Sanji starts talking about his mother; it’s a short anecdote, a single happy memory, but Zoro can tell by the way Sanji tells it — guarded and hesitant, like he wants to keep the words close and safe — that he has never shared it with anyone else before.
#30 - Ghost
Usopp starts shaking like a leaf as soon as they enter the abandoned, dilapidated house, and Sanji gently tells him, sometimes the worst ghost is the one you create yourself; Zoro feels the weight of Wado on his hip, and agrees.
#31 - Book
“I don’t need this,” Zoro grumbles with a blush, pushing the book back into Nami’s hands, trying hard to ignore Nami’s laughter and the words ROMANCE FOR DUMMIES emblazoned on the book’s jacket.
#32 - Eye
Shusui sinks into the man’s stomach, all the way to the hilt, and Zoro thinks of the way Sanji curled into himself as the man landed a lucky hit on the cook’s hand. An eye for an eye.
#33 - Never
“This is my first time,” Zoro whispers, head ducking away as he feels his face flush at the admission; but Sanji’s hand rests on his cheek, encouraging, and he can feel the curve of Sanji’s smile as their lips meet and Sanji replies, “it’s mine, too.”
#34 - Sing
Luffy cheers when Zoro and Sanji comes into view, and he lets them take on the next batch of enemies; a good fight is always fun, but watching Zoro and Sanji fight is even more so — like watching a dance that only those two know the melody to.
#35 - Sudden
“What, are we supposed to be surprised?” Nami says, barely looking up from the map she’s working on; Sanji sputters, face redder than the tomatoes he served during breakfast, and Nami feels almost bad for him.
#36 - Stop
“But we — Zoro and I — how did you know?” Sanji asks, and promptly stops asking questions when he realizes the rest of the crew aren’t surprised either; who could blame them, when his and Zoro’s sexual tension can be seen from a mile away.
#37 - Time
Sanji knows they have to break apart soon, just to breathe, but right now all he cares about is to taste as much of Zoro as possible — he has waited two years for this, and it has been two years too long.
#38 - Wash
They have their fair share of fighting — and how, considering the amount of repairs Usopp has to do for Merry just from their petty fights alone — but what the crew doesn’t know is that they also have this thing, this quiet thing, just him and the Cook and a stack of dirty plates between them.
#39 - Torn
“In retrospect,” Robin observes, “dressing up our dear cook in a maid uniform would not only lower the enemy’s firepower, but also ours, considering how distracted our swordsman has clearly become.”
#40 - History
“Why do you keep him around, mister?” The kid asks, pointing at the old swordsman with three swords and an eye scar by the peer; Sanji laughs, pats the kid on the head, and says, almost wistfully — “you can say we have some history.”
#41 - Power
Sanji tugs at Zoro’s sleeve, and Zoro follows suit despite his complaints — Sanji thinks, distantly, how much of an honor it is, to have so much control over such a powerful man.
#42 - Bother
“I didn’t have enough time to make this three-tier ice cream cake for our lovely Nami-san and Robin-chan because you distracted me!” Sanji says with a hard jab of a finger against Zoro’s chest, and Zoro thinks, good .
#43 - God
Zoro does not believe in gods, but there’s a hymn of a noise when Zoro presses his lips against the crook of Sanji’s neck, the hallelujah of the world breaking apart as their bodies move together, and he thinks, close enough .
#44 - Wall
Zoro slams his fist into the wall of Polar Tang, and is taken aback by the depth of his own frustration; he knows Luffy and the others will get Sanji back from Big Mom’s place, but it unsettles him still, the way Sanji hides himself under layers of pretenses when Zoro has bared so much of himself to the Cook in return.
#45 - Naked
“What the fuck was that for , Mosshead?!” Sanji shrieks, justifiably furious, leg raised and on fire after Zoro sliced his tray into two without preamble; Zoro can’t exactly tell the Cook he did it because he was too surprised at the sight of Sanji in a swimming trunk and nothing else.
#46 - Drive
Why Zoro , people sometimes ask, but the answer is easy to Sanji — nobody drives him crazy the way Zoro does, and is that not what true love feels like?
#47 - Harm
Zoro knows Sanji will be furious ; but as he faces Kuma, knowing at least the Cook is out of harm’s way, he knows he would do this a hundred times over, a thousand times over, a million times over.
#48 - Precious
Sanji is sitting by the corner of the infirmary, face pale with red-rimmed eyes, and Zoro thinks he’s never had that, before — people who would weep for him, knowing that he is more than dried scars and calloused skin.
#49 - Hunger
This thing we have is dangerous, Sanji tells him, but Zoro doesn’t care — he already has a craving, the same way he needs a booze when it’s been too long, except he thinks that this vice will surely kill him.
#50 - Believe
This isn’t faith; this is the truth, Zoro’s truth, the same way he knows he will become the Greatest — Sanji will find that elusive sea of his, and Zoro will stay with him until it is the last thing he can do.
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Forever and Never
A/N: One more chapter! You guys are a dream, thank you so much for reading ❤️
Warnings: mentions of marijuana, derogatory terms for homosexuality, blood/gore and death/dying
Word Count: 5690
—————————————
Eight: All Die Young
“Um… I think besides everything with Ricky… the night of homecoming was one of the most traumatic experiences of my life.”
“With Bradley Lewis’s death.”
“Yeah. I-I mean, it started off as a normal day, a-a great day, actually.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Awaking to a text from Stanley Barber, informing me that he was driving us to school, was a heavenly sight. Almost as heavenly as waking up beside the boy, himself in the near future. Grabbing my phone off its charger, I rolled onto my stomach and texted him back, my feet giddily kicking in the air. It amazed me how he could change my entire demeanor within seconds. I could go from a sniveling baby to a hopping and skipping lovesick fool when it comes to Stan. And I don’t even think he meant to have this much of an effect on me. I wondered if I had the same effect on him? I never really paid much attention to it, just accepted the fact that he would never reciprocate my feelings. Even during that time, I had no idea if we were a couple or just adoring each other. It didn’t matter, though. Stan was finally looking at me the way I wanted him to.
Jacob stared at me with unease as I skipped down the stairs, prancing my way into the kitchen for breakfast. “Mom, (Y/N)’s being weird.” He called out as he opened the front door to leave. Pam hushed him before handing me a plate of food.
“Hush, now, Jacob. Let her be in a good mood for once.”
“For once?” I frowned and sat myself down. Pam smiled over at me and gingerly kissed my forehead as I began eating.
“Yes. For once.”
When I finished eating and readying myself for the day, I received a text message from Stan.
Stan: I’m outside
Me: omw
Pocketing my cell, I called out to my family before stepping outside to see Stan in his car with a grin on his face. “Good morning, lovely!” He called out above his music as I strode up to the vehicle, climbing inside. I gave him my usual greeting before leaning over and kissing his cheek. He chuckled and waited for me to strap myself in before riding down our street. It was clear he was in a good mood, because he let me pick the music for the ride. As Waterloo by ABBA flowed out of the drawn-down car windows, I felt the comforting warmth of his hand latch onto mine. Our combined hands shook to the beat of the music as we happily sang the words to the song. Remember when I said I had only been this happy one other time? This was even better. There were never any consequences to being with Stan, never a dull moment, never a hint of doubt between our bond. I’d never been as close to anyone as I was to him. And now at last, we were even closer in more ways than one.
Stepping onto the school campus, we were no longer strangers. I still walked within my bubble, and I probably always will throughout my life, but from now on there was no need to allow Stan inside. He was planning to be beside me through it all. He wasn’t afraid to be alienated with me any longer, we were to embrace it together. We were going to allow the stares, the whispers, the rumors. Allow them to act as water on a duck’s back. I was proud of him, I was proud of us. Even as I felt the dark brown glare of Ricky Berry trail after the two of us, watching our bashful and lovestruck glances throughout classes, the way we held hands in the halls. I was certain he got the message that I was no longer his, despite the forceful way he claimed me the previous week.
At lunch, I was just about to declare my spot in line when I felt a gentle hold on my arm. Stan, with a warm grin, pulled me away and walked us to an empty table. “Um, Stan, I’d kinda like to eat lunch today.”
“I know, Nugget,” He held up two brown sacks. “I made lunch for the both of us.” The way his grin grew prideful made my heart swell in affection. We sat across from each other as he slid the bag over to me.
“Awe, Stanley, you didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to, though,” He shrugged and watched as I took each item out of the bag and carefully organized them. “So, about homecoming. I was thinking we could make a big deal out of it. If you want to.”
“I totally want to,” I nodded, eyes trained on my task. “What were you planning, beautiful?”
I didn’t miss the bashful blush tinting his cheeks when I snuck a glance up at him. “Uh… Well, I was thinking when I pick you up, we can take, like, a shitload of pictures. Like, just let Aunt Pam go at it. She’ll love it.”
“Oh, yeah, definitely.”
“And then after the dance, I wanna take you out to eat.”
“Really? Where to?”
“Nothing too fancy. You don’t like all that. I was driving around yesterday and saw this restaurant that specializes in their pasta,” I suddenly felt the tip of my nose being gently pinched. Looking up, Stan was playfully wiggling my nose with a goofy grin on his face. “I know how much you love pasta.”
“I do,” I laughed and swatted his hand away. “And after that? Are we robbing a bank and driving off into the night?”
“If only,” He wistfully sighed. “But alas, I’m afraid we’ll have to remain trapped within Brownsville until we’re old enough to run away.”
I gave a mischievous smirk. “The entire act of running away is rebellious. Why wait until we’re allowed?”
“Because, frankly, I don’t feel like running away,” We shared a laugh. “But in all seriousness, we go to my house and just chill. We can have a dance contest. Our last was a tie, remember?”
The antsy excitement rushed through my veins the closer the night approached. I was never one for making a scene about school dances, but this time was different. It was my senior year, I had Stan, Ricky was out of the picture. Or at least, he was for the next hour. After lunch, Stan walked me to photography class, the two of us hand-in-hand as we had been for the entire day. Approaching the door, he wished me a good class before leaning in and pecking my lips. Our fingertips lingered as he pulled away and continued to his own class. Feeling my burning cheeks, I turned to go into the room, but an arm blocked my path. “Hey, Zip.”
Inwardly groaning, I looked up at Ricky. His bruises were beginning to fade, the dark ring around his right eye taking its time to heal. I silently hissed at the sight of him. “What.”
“Listen, I just wanted to apologize. Brad talked to me the other day and… made me realize that what I did was really fucked up. Really, babe, I didn’t mean to hurt you-”
“You’re so fucking lucky I haven’t called the police on you, Ricky-”
“Yes, I know,” He sighed, discreetly rolling his eyes. “And I really appreciate it. Gives me a chance to better myself, you know? Help you better yourself. And what better way to make up for what I did than to make homecoming the most magical night for you? Yeah? We still on for tonight?”
My eyes dangerously widened at his hopeful smile, his expression melting under my fiery stare. “Are you kidding me?! Hell no! You think I wanna be anywhere near you?!”
“(Y/N)-”
“Besides, I already have another date.” I shrugged and moved to duck under his arm, but he leaned against the doorframe to decline me access inside. I quickly backed away from him, my fear kicking in at his brash behavior.
“What, Stan The Faggot? You’re really going with that fucking twink when you could be going with me?” He laughed right in my face. I lifted my chin and stepped forward.
“Don’t ever speak about Stanley that way. He’s the most kind-hearted person I’ve ever met and is an even better boyfriend than you’ll ever be to anyone-”
“Boyfriend?!” He cackled. “I knew it. How could I not? It was so obvious! You’re fucking crazy.”
“Excuse me?!”
“You don’t see the way he dresses? He’s fucking weird, (Y/N). He’s a goddamn drug dealer. What is he gonna offer you? Huh? Free weed? Babe… Come on, you are so better off with me.”
He lightly shook his head with a smile of disbelief as I took out my phone. “I just remembered. You’re not supposed to be near me, talking to me, or even looking at me. I think Jacob would love to hear about this-”
“Fuck you.” Ricky hissed before stomping away, leaving me in an empty hallway that was filled with the ringing of the tardy bell not too long afterwards. At that point, I was just about sick of guys. I was irritable during gym class, running off my anger and letting it steam off my shoulders. When the coach told us we could stop, I took greedy gulps of air and trudged to a nearby bench to rest. As I plopped down, I noticed Syd and Dina walking together to the opposite side of the field. It was good to know they were to finally talk everything out. Now for her and Stan to make up…
I was thankful for a split second for the shadow that casted over the burning sun raining down on me, but huffed upon seeing who it was. Some guy from my math class stood before me. He was shirtless, displaying his six-pack and chest glistening with sweat. He beamed down at me with a suave smirk. “Hey, Zip.”
“Hey.”
“So… I know you and Ricky are… you know. So, since the dance is tonight-”
“Sorry, I already have a date.”
“Right,” He nodded slowly, beginning to back away. “I should’ve known. No worries.”
-------------------------------------------------
“And he just walked away?!” Stan laughed on our drive home from school. My hold on his hand tightened as I tried to hold in my own laugh.
“No, he ran away!” I snorted, triggering the increase of his laughter.
“What is that, the fourth guy today?”
“Don’t remind me.” I rolled my eyes as he pulled up to my house. Unbuckling myself, I froze at Stan’s intentuous stare. He reached over and grabbed my hand again, raising it to his lips.
“I expect you to dazzle everyone like you usually do.” He kissed my knuckles.
My breath hitched. “Of course. And I expect you to do better than me, like you usually do. What time should I be ready?”
“I’m picking you up at eight. On the dot.”
“On the dot, got it.” I leaned over and pressed my lips to his. He returned it and tilted his head to try and deepen it, but I pulled away with a giggle. Stan watched in awe as I got out of the car, snatching up my backpack as I did. Waving him off, I turned and headed inside my house.
I had to look perfect. Not just for Stan, but for me. This was a new era of myself, I had shedded my skin and materialized as something beautiful. I had to showcase just how beautiful I’ve become. So, after my shower, I struck up a playlist and dolled myself up. Starting off with my hair, I simply pinned it up with white butterfly hair clips. My makeup was nothing special, other than the baby pink eyeshadow and the small application of glitter over it. To seal up the look, I added cherry lip gloss to give my lips a bit of a pop. I hoped Stan would appreciate it. My face burned at the thought of him tasting the cherry on my mouth. Backing away from my mirror before I exploded, I entered my closet. My dress was something I never thought I would ever wear. It matched my makeup in baby pink. An off-the-shoulder look that hugged my torso and flared out to the floor. I managed to zip it up myself before slipping on a pair of white heels. Turning to my reflection, I let out a breath.
I had never looked any more beautiful, I think. I remember gazing at my parents’ wedding photo as a child and wishing to look as beautiful as my mother one day. I wondered if she was looking down at me, proud of who I had become at that point. Gazing fondly down at the ring on my pinky, I blinked back the stinging of my tears.
Yeah, she’s proud.
An eager three knocks sounded at my door and I hurried to open it. Pam immediately teared up the moment her eyes settled on me, camera ready in her hand. “Oh, my baby… You look so gorgeous! Just like your mom!” She gushed. I could only chuckle as she took multiple pictures of me. Hearing a taunting laugh, I looked down the hall to see Jacob leaning against the wall, silently mocking his mother’s excitement. I kindly showed my middle finger to him, much to Pam’s disappointment. “Oh, come on. Now it’s in the picture! Jake, leave your sister alone!”
“Sorry, ma’am.” He feigned innocence and batted his eyelashes at me. I playfully sneered at him before David’s voice sounded from downstairs.
“(Y/N), Stan is here!”
Grabbing my phone, I checked the time. Eight o’clock. On the dot. That punctual bastard. Clutching my phone in my hand, I nervously made my way to the top of the stairs. Everyone was waiting for me at the bottom, including Stan. God, he looked so cute. He was wearing his baby blue suit, some sort of black and tan shirt beneath that oddly went well with the suit. Leave it to Stan to defy the laws of fashion. I could tell he paid extra care to his hair, the way it was styled perfectly for his curls to sit off to the left side of his forehead. I was sure I was grinning like a maniac as I descended the stairs, but Stan’s expression was the reason I was grinning. He looked absolutely astonished and at a loss for words. His jaw was dropped and eyes were bulging as he watched me walk closer to him. When I quietly greeted him, he couldn’t even respond. Great job, (Y/N), you broke him.
“How’d I do?” I whispered and hooked arms with him. At my touch, he snapped out of his haze and beamed at me.
“You certainly did not disappoint, lovely.”
“Awe, and you aren’t looking too bad yourself, beautiful.”
Pam squealed from the sidelines before rushing over to us. “Stanley, doesn’t she look stunning?”
“Absolutely, Aunt Pam.” He grinned at the older woman as she began taking photo after photo of us. We decided to indulge her and pose for each one. All the while, I felt a red hot glare from the side. Glancing its way, I noticed Jacob fuming at the sight of Stan and I hugged up on each other. His Big Brother Mode was going to activate the second Pam was done with us. To my horror, she finished sooner than I thought. As she excitedly showed our photos to David, I watched as Jacob slowly approached us. Just as he opened his mouth to spit some sort of threat towards the poor, unsuspecting Stan, I turned to the front door and flung it open.
“Well, we really have to go! We’re already late, you know.” I chuckled and gently shoved Stan out of the house.
“Oh! Yeah, of course!” Pam called out after us. “You two be careful out there! And have fun!”
“And (Y/N)-” Jacob began to add in a warning, but I waved him off, mouthing an ‘I know’ as Stan scrambled to hold the car door open for me. I quietly thanked him and climbed inside. The car ride to the dance was very pleasant. The hum of soft rock music fit the mood of our night as we quietly sang along. Stan found a parking spot rather quickly and leaned back in his seat after turning the car off. Bringing the visor down, I checked myself in the mirror, gently running my fingers over my white gold hoop earrings gifted to me by my dad for my previous birthday. They were pretty expensive and I hardly wore them, so why not? Hearing a click, I turned to see Stan lighting up a joint. After he took a hit, he looked my way and smiled, offering it to me. Without any hesitation, I joined him in a quick session. As I took my third hit, I felt his eyes on me.
“What?” I raised a brow and exhaled the smoke. His eyes shown in adoration.
“What a sight you are…”
“A sight? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean, you’re sitting in my old-school car, looking like a goddess and smoking a joint. You’re so beautiful… Just perfection.”
“Jeez, maybe I should get dolled up to smoke more often.” I joked and handed it back to him. We shared a chuckle before Stan put the smoke out. He gave me a wink before getting out of the car and rounding it to let me out.
Our highs kicked in the moment we stepped into the gymnasium. Our clammy hands found each other as we walked further in. I let him lead me through the sea of dancing bodies and bouncing balloons, the two of us hitting them out of our way as we ended up near the bleachers. When we stopped, we overlooked the scene before us as I leaned my head on his shoulder. “Best theater in town, Stan.”
“Best theater in town, (Y/N),” He looked down at me with furrowed brows. “So, why aren’t you on stage?”
“I don’t perform without my co-star.”
“Well, in that case.” He took hold of both my hands and swung us around. At that, we let loose, broadcasting our best secret dance contest moves to anyone willing to watch. I thought it was perfect. The two outcasts, both outcasts for difference reasons, wildly dancing together away from everyone else. And yet, they were the life of the party. It was meant to be. My feet stung from the stomping and jumping I was doing in my heels, but I couldn’t care less.
“I fucking hate this song!” I joyfully shouted, eliciting a laugh from my date.
“Me, too!” From the sound of our laughter, it was clear the two of us were high. Three songs later, in the middle of my rounds of spinning, I felt Stan’s hands on my waist, attempting to stop me. When I did, my surroundings rotated around me and I leaned into him for support. Looking up, I saw Sydney awkwardly smiling at the both of us.
“Oh! Hey, Syd! I love your dress.” I smiled and gestured to her attire. Her smile widened.
“Thanks, (Y/N), y-you look great.”
“Awe, thanks.” I gushed and bashfully waved her off. My attention turned to Stan, who had a look of indifference on his face, but a hint of pain in his eyes. Sydney noticed it, too, and looked back at me.
“Uh… Can I borrow Stan for a second?”
“Go ahead.” I motioned. Stan stared at me for a second before following Syd onto the bleachers. I suddenly felt very out of place, so I decided to keep my hands busy and get myself some punch. Thankfully, I found Dina there, pouring herself a cup. When she noticed me, she quickly set it back down on the table and reached her arms out for a hug. “Dina, you look so good!”
“Are you kidding me?!” We engulfed each other in a tight hug before pulling away. “You look fucking amazing! You always have to show out, huh?”
“I try…” I lowered my voice. As the two of us talked, lonely guys would come up to us and ask to dance, but we would hold hands and politely decline. After the third walked away, Dina turned to me.
“Hey, so… In detention… The thing that Jenny said about Ricky. Was that true…?” The hesitancy in her voice made me deeply inhale as I nodded in confirmation. Instantly, her eyes welled up with tears as her hands covered her mouth. “(Y/N)... I’m so sorry. If I had known, I would’ve been there for you.”
“No, no, Dina!” I quickly took her hands into mine, my heart wrenching. “It’s okay! I’m okay…”
“You’re okay? H-How are you okay?” She frowned and blinked back her tears. A warm smile twitched its way onto my face.
“Stan… he’s been making everything better…” I admitted. Dina’s face lit up before she hugged me all over again.
“Oh my god, (Y/N)! I’m so happy for you! God, you fucking deserve it, girl!” She exclaimed as I hugged back, quietly laughing at her excitement. Our hug was cut short, when Dina caught sight of our dates heading toward us. I turned to them and happily watched as they approached us, their hands lazily clasped together. Sydney held out Stan’s hand over to mine and I gladly took over. “Stan!” Dina grinned at him as he allowed me to lean against his side.
“Dina, you look, um… you look like a Christmas tree.” He awkwardly complimented as I rolled my eyes. Dina looked down at herself.
“Thanks, dude.”
“Uh-huh.” He nodded before his eye caught something. “Oh, god. Whitaker’s still watching us.” He sighed. We directed our gaze to our principal, who indeed was standing across the gym, arms folded and a piercing gaze on the four of us.
“It’s probably the most exciting thing that’s ever happened in his entire life.” Sydney crossed her arms, as well, as we all grinned. Stan leaned forward and placed his other hand over ours as he hummed.
“I don’t know, guys. I mean, we’re wanted criminals. Why are we out here in the open? Exposed. First rule of the heist is split the loot and split the fuck up, right?”
“We don’t have any loot, Stan.” I raised a brow in false confusion as Dina smirked at me.
“Yeah, all we did was disrespect this fine institution.”
“And disrespect ourselves.” Sydney finished, Stan humming again before we all shared a soft laugh. Stan’s smile disappeared as a slow song came on. I barely recognized it, but he sure seemed to know it. His free hand reached up to cover his eyes.
“Oh, no. On principle, I just- I can’t,” He groaned and began to free himself from my grasp. “Sorry, this playlist is all over the map. I’ll- I’ll be back.” He squeezed between Syd and I to leave, but I followed right behind. He was nearly at the DJ table, when I managed to stop his striding.
“Stan! Stan, wait!” I laughed and turned him to me. “Come on, I wanna dance to this.”
“(Y/N), I have to enlighten that poor DJ over there.”
“After this song?” I pouted and wrapped my arms around his neck. “I don’t care about the music. I’ll dance to anything with you.”
“That is a lie, but fine,” He sighed before his hands rested on my waist. Our dance started off with timid shuffling, Stan clearly not used to slow dancing. I chuckled and directed his eyes away from his shoes.
“Stan, it’s just swaying, I promise.” I whispered. He gave me an incredulous look before moving with me to the music. Of course, since it’s Stan, he had to add in a few spins that had us stumbling. We laughed aloud when we almost toppled over, and we earned a few weird stares, but we didn’t give a shit. Just as it seemed we were getting the hang of it, a voice that rang throughout the gym interrupted the song and dance.
“Alright, ladies and gentlemen,” Mr File announced from the stage. “If I may have your attention. Stop talking. Look up here please.”
“Thank god, they stopped the song.” Stan whispered in my ear as we turned to the stage. I playfully and gently hit his chest as our teacher continued.
“It is my privilege to introduce your homecoming king and queen, Jeff Butters and Julie Frasheski!”
As the homecoming royalty hopped on stage, we all clapped and cheered for them, Stan and I exchanging looks that said ‘I have no idea who these people are’. “What up, Westinghouse!” Jeff exclaimed into the microphone, his queen by his side, the both of them wearing sashes and crowns. “Yeah! Where my boys at? Whoo! Where do I begin? I wanna thank my mom for meeting my dad-”
His amusing speech was cut off by Bradley Lewis running onstage and clamping his hand over the mic. “Listen up!” He yelled as the feedback screeched. Our smiles dropped as he swayed, clearly drunk. As Mr File tried to take the mic from him, he thrashed about and moved away. “Give me a second! I would like to take this moment to talk about something very important that affects everyone here.”
“What the fuck…?” I muttered and watched as he turned to the middle of the crowd.
“Sydney Novak!” His exclamation sent a flinch through Stan and I, and I felt him tense under my hold on his arm. “Hey, Sydney! Raise your hand! Raise your hand! Give a wave so everybody can see you!” When she didn’t comply, he moved on, proceeding to pull out Sydney’s supposed diary and flipping through it, exposing all of her secrets to the whole school. He told about how at Ricky’s party, she had kissed Dina upstairs. As he spoke, he hopped off the stage and pushed past people to stalk closer to his victim, the path to her and Dina made clear. I could see the panic in Sydney’s eyes. My blood boiled at the derogatory term he used for her sexuality, but Stan was just about ready to pop. His jaw was severely clenched and his face was flushed red in anger. I felt him move forward, but kept an arm in front of him. But there was no holding him back after the next thing Brad exposed. “And my god, don’t even get me started on the daddy issues on this one. I mean, it’s fucking worse than Zip’s! And we all know about that!” That comment punched me straight in the gut and Stan ripped his arm from my hold, pushing his way through the crowd. “Everyone in Sydney’s life thinks that she’s a piece of shit. And I mean everyone!” His cackling was interrupted when Stan broke through everyone.
“Hey, man! Leave her alone!” He went to stand in front of his friend, but Brad immediately swung, his fist connecting with Stan’s face and sending him to the ground, unconscious. My breathing stuttered before I wordlessly shoved everyone out of the way, trying to get to his limp form. There were a few people separating us that wouldn’t budge. I growled as Brad continued, shaking his fist from the blow.
“But that is not even the weirdest thing about Sydney… Novak,” He took a few steps forward, and I watched as Sydney wiped a tear from her eye. This whole situation was fucked. “Get this. Sydney claims that she has-”
To this day, I have no fucking clue how it happened, but Brad’s words were cut short when his blood and brains exploded onto everyone near him. Including me. I heard nothing but white noise the second the blood platter smacked into my hair, onto my face, my dress, my shoes. Brad’s headless body fell limp to the ground, the remaining of his brains spilling out from where his head should have been. His head should’ve been there… His head should be there! I couldn’t move, I couldn’t speak. My eyes were glued to the bloodied corpse on the ground. I was sure everyone was screaming and running around, but I couldn’t do the same. I saw shaking Dina’s form, trembling as she moved, but my focus snapped right back to the fucking corpse. I should’ve moved. I should’ve screamed. I should’ve ran. I should have been crying and gagging and panicking, but I just… I couldn’t. I don’t know what the fuck.
“(Y/N)!” I felt a hand pulling me by the arm, but I was in such a state of shock that I blindly let whoever drag me out of the school- no, the crime scene. I felt the cool air nip at my exposed skin, but I still couldn’t have been bothered to react to anything. It wasn’t until I felt a piece of bloody meat slip down my face and disappear into my dress that I could breathe again. I let out a blood-curdling scream as I felt it run down my skin.
“It’s in my dress! It’s touching me!” I cried. The mess of curls in front of me whipped around to face me. Through my teary-eyed vision, I could make out that it was Stan. He was awake, he was fine. But I wasn’t.
“(Y/N), what’s wrong?!”
“It’s in my fucking dress!” I gagged as I felt it run down my stomach. “Stan, a piece of his fucking brain-”
He firmly grabbed me by the shoulders and rushed me to his car. I hyperventilated as he placed me in the passenger seat. Before closing the door, he reached into my dress from the bottom and slid his hand from my knees, past my thighs and planted his palm on my stomach. He gagged when his hand touched the meat, grabbing hold of it and ripping his hand from my dress, throwing the flesh to the ground. Stumbling a bit, he shut my door and rounded the car to drive. I had to ride with my window down, letting the wind blow against my face to prevent the contents in my stomach from resurfacing into Stan’s car. He drove all around town, calling out for Sydney. He would glance over at me every once and awhile when I would gag or groan, but that was it.
What a sight I was.
Do I look beautiful now, Stan?
-------------------------------------------------
When Stan decided to give up on the search for Sydney, he sped us to his house. The sirens of police cars and ambulances echoed within my empty mind. But the moment I left the car, I hurled my guts up into Stan’s yard. He caught me before I could fall and rubbed my back until I emptied my stomach. Then when I was done, I did the same for him.
I had no concept of time, I can’t remember how long we were throwing up in his front lawn, but when we were done, he guided me inside the house and down to his room. The second he let go of me to retrieve new clothes, my entire body trembled and shook uncontrollably. “S-Stan… S-S-Stan.” I whimpered out. He returned to me with clothes tucked under one of his arms. He held me by the elbow and guided me to his bathroom, sitting me down on the toilet lid before starting up the shower for me.
“Nugget? Hey, do you want me to-”
“N-No.” I don’t know why I said that. I needed him in that room with me. He was patient enough to look away as I undressed, nearly falling a few times, and stepped into the shower. He left the door slightly ajar, so I was sure he could hear my sobbing as I sat down, letting the water rinse me of Bradley Lewis’s blood and guts.
I returned to Stan in one of his sweatshirts and a pair of his sweatpants. He stood from his bed and carefully watched the way I moved. The way I slowly blinked and walked two steps at a time toward him. Silently, he lifted his covers for me to lay down. I stared at him emptily for a few beats before complying, my back facing him. I felt his lips on my neck and gladly welcomed the kiss before he whispered into my ear, “I’m gonna shower now, okay? I won’t be long.”
“Go ahead.” I nodded, my voice barely above a whisper. As Stan showered, my shaking hands reached up and freed my locks from my hair clips. I tried to keep my crying near-silent as I did so, but I wasn’t too sure how loud I was being. Within time, he had returned and laid down beside me in bed. And from the warmth I felt when his back touched mine, I could tell he was shirtless. It was painfully silent as we both unevenly breathed. I bit my fingers to keep myself from crying again. Everything about me felt unbalanced. I wanted to be beaten even. It’s what I deserved for not taking care of myself.
“Hey.” Stan’s whisper broke my train of thought.
“H-Hey…”
“You asleep?”
“No… You?”
“No.” He muttered as I felt the bed dip when he turned around to spoon me. His leg draped over mine as his arms pulled me closer. He pressed his lips to the side of my neck as he deeply inhaled. I closed my eyes and willed myself to ask the question brewing in my mind,
“Do you have any idea what the fuck happened? B-Brad just… h-he fucking…”
“I know,” He murmured against my skin, his hold tightening as well as his throat. I could tell by the way he choked on his breath. “I… I’ll explain it another day. N-Not tonight.”
As we fell asleep an hour later, I knew he’d never explain it.
—————————————
Taglist: @nate-isnt-great @sapphicsyn @stqnley @lonely-kermit @a-t-h-r-e-e-n-a @moatsnow @magicalgothpandamaker
#i am not okay with this#i am not okay with this x reader#ianowt#ianowt x reader#ianowt fanfic#ianowt stanley barber#stanley barber#stanley barber x reader#wyatt oleff#wyatt oleff x reader#forever and never
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TAEHEE WITH SUPERM
baekhyun baekhee
there was this tension at the start. you wouldn’t notice it at first glance but when you really pay attention to how the both of them act around each other ,,, you’ll just wonder how they are off-cam.
taehee mentioned during wgu era baekhyun was one of her role models when it came to the entertainment industry ,, so some fans wondered maybe there was still this senior-junior relationship between them while the rest were getting close with her.
but baekhyun hates awkward. luckily, they were roommates when they came to the states for their debut.
he figured he could get closer to taehee by making her laugh a lot, and he succeeded !!! it was easy since they basically shared the same humor.
he also took her out to eat when they came back to korea ,, discovered her love for playing video games and that they had a lot more in common
taehee enjoys playing hard to get when it comes to baekhyun.
(superm midterm exam ep. 1) “but you said i was your role model!!!” “when it came to being funny, yes...?” “W H A T !!!!”
as much as possible, baekhyun wants taehee to show off or be given attention to. whether that came to lines on the script or bragging about what she can do, not only does he do this as a leader but as someone who wants to show that taehee is as capable as them.
(200913 vlive) taehee comes up to the camera and nervously laughs, “yah, how do i do this?!” she turns around to face the rest of the boys who have challenged her into doing taemin’s killing part in the ‘criminal’ mv. “just do it like you would usually do!” baekhyun encourages cheerfully. “don’t act shy! you know you can do it.”
iconic moment (mtopia ep. 11-2) "whoever competes with baekhyun hyung is likely to lose,” kai says, watching as the eldest prep himself for the game. hearing this, taehee instantly shot up from her seat and moved to the red square opposite of baekhyun. though determined, she lets out a casual remark, “i’ll fight him,” and the others laugh.
ever since the first game of the night, baekhyun and taehee teased each other back and forth, trying to get the other off their game. the scoreboard between the two of them was currently 2:1, with taehee having won the paper cup game and the team game with mark and the others. baekhyun glances to the side nervously, until an idea pops in his head.
he lights up her candle shortly and hands it to her, “here.” taehee accepts the candle without protest as she sat down, until kai says, “he gave you the weaker candle.” her head snaps up to see baekhyun dead set on making his flame stronger than hers, his fierce expression making all of them crack up. “oppa!” taehee complains but she laughs. “yah, baekhyun hyung, that’s unfair!” taeyong backs the maknae up, well aware of the feeling of losing quickly to their leader. “jeon taehee, you better win this,” taeyong tells her, his tone was laced with seriousness yet his pout said otherwise. “avenge me,” and taehee gives him a salute and a wink in return.
not sooner than later, their match begins. their hot battle keeping the members on their toes, they too were aware of their rivalry from earlier. “jeon taehee, let’s go!” mark cheers. although taehee could barely see with the water getting in her eyes and hair, she moved her candle in all directions in defense to her opponent’s shooting (at this point, taehee figured baekhyun was just trying to shoot at her face but she’s not complaining... that much). with a sharp aim, taehee was able to distinguish baekhyun’s candle in just less than a minute.
“i think water went into my nose,” taehee giggles as she lowers her candle down, removing any excess water from her eyes once her other hand was free. meanwhile baekhyun looked shell-shocked, taemin and the others laughing more at the result. “hyung, you looked like you won!” kai teases him further. “i won,” baekhyun jokingly seethes, “I WON!”
taehee laughs, “알았어, loser.” the team breaks off into a louder fit while baekhyun smiles in disbelief. taehee sure was different.
song falling by trevor daniel
taemin 2tae
despite both of them being the most quiet during the first meeting, the both of them got closer the quickest !!!!
first day they were like ‘hi hello annyeong’. next day, they’re sharing recipes, having inside jokes, mini-handshake (courtesy of taehee), play-fighting, making funny faces at each other whenever they make eye contact during dance practices ....
dance prodigies !!! amazing, talented, remarkable dance prodigies !!! aces at everything !!!! their stage presence !!!!
(superm reveal which member has the best hair and who is the funniest of the group | billboard) “these two,” taeyong gestures to taehee and to taemin, “how do i say this? they look immoral on stage.” the others chuckle at his bluntness, “i think that would be the best term for it.”
taehee finds taemin very cute and would willingly watch his aegyo.
(’one’ dance practice behind) “hyung, you are honestly so cute,” taehee centers the camera to taemin, “times like these, i wish you were my younger brother.” he laughs.
meanwhile, taemin finds himself laughing at taehee’s antics most of the time (totally didn’t expect the chaotic energy coming from this one).
taehee always manages to find her place next to taemin somehow, and when taemin turns to find out she was beside him this whole time, he’d smile at her and pat the top of her head.
taemin became one of taehee’s comfort people !!!! from having a senior-junior relationship to being one of taehee’s most trusted friends, they grew really close after time and related well with each other.
iconic moment (’one’ dance practice behind) “woah, oppa you look really pretty from this angle,” taehee tilts the camera to the sides until taemin starts doing aegyo, causing laughter to bubble from the girl. “hey! hyung, why are you seriously so cute?”
taemin recalls the other day he and taehee hung out together, and he sits up straight before telling the story. “you know what taehee did the other day?” his lips break into a wide smile, his tone piquing interest from ten and mark. “what did she say?” mark said.
“she said, ‘hyung, it think it would be nice if you were my dongsaeng.’ and i haven’t said anything yet and she said, ‘yaja time? start. taeminnie, what do you want to do?’”
mark and ten burst out laughing, taehee feigns ignorance. “what? when was that? i don’t remember that.”
taemin chuckles, “taehee is really so precious.”
song it’s tricky by run d.m.c
kai kaihee
kai was a bit awkward with taehee too at first.
he was very cautious around her, even if it was just standing close to her during photoshoots.
kai, keeping his distance: “is this okay?”
director: “closer!!!!”
kai: fuck
but now he teases the hell out of her you’d probably mistake them for being friends for a long time.
(superm on knowing bros) “baekhyun hyung? baekhyun . hyung???? you seriously find him the most attractive out of all of us?????” “BEAUTY IS IN THE EYES OF THE BEHOLDER!!!!!!” “YOU NEED TO GET YOUR EYES CHECKED THEN”
he makes fun of her accent (jokingly ofc) but also loves it.
“how do you say ‘귤’ in english?” “tangerine” “ahh you are so cute !!!!!!”
also teases her by wrapping his arm around her shoulders and proceeding to shake her aggressively.
before superm, kai already found taehee super cool .... he was probably intimidated by her.
when kai is not teasing taehee, they’re both teasing mark.
in the end, there is an i-will-tease-the-heck-out-of-you-until-your-ears-turn-red kai and a im-her-father-no-one-touch-her kai
iconic moment (mtopia ep. 11-1) “i feel like taehee would get this though,” baekhyun says and the others agree with him, taehee’s agile. they all watch as she puts her hands on each side of the toaster, preparing herself by biting on thin air. “okay, i’ll start now!”
using her left thumb, she pushed the press handle down and released. but instead of catching the piece of bread, she caught her tongue in between her teeth. she immediately pulled back and brought her hands to her mouth, walking away the pain as the members pointed out she wasn’t able to succeed. kai was the first to notice her, “what’s wrong, taehee?”
“i bit my tongue and it hurts so much,” she winces. kai cackles, “바보! taehee!”
“it was an accident!” she exclaims. “i know but you don’t put your tongue out like that!”
taehee grumbles at kai’s remark as she sat beside him. the latter pulls her close by the shoulder and ruffles her hair, laughing as she poked her cheek. “you want to eat bread?” kai smiles at her, already reaching out for the plate of extras.
“i’m gonna eat bread.”
song mambo no. 5 (a little bit of ....) by lou bega
taeyong yonghee
taehee’s all up for the ‘taeyong babie’ agenda since it’s so cute to see the older members tease and baby taeyong.
knowing that baekhyun likes to poke the fun out of these two, taeyong and taehee would team up against him.
(superm mtopia ep. 1) “taehee, let’s make baekhyun hyung out,” taeyong tells her, taehee mirroring the determined look on his face. “we got this.”
taeyong hypes taehee up like a stage dad or something lol he’d go like, “WOOOO!!! THAT’S MY BABY,” and taehee would find herself smiling before resuming to whatever she was doing.
taehee had to stop herself from clowning taeyong when they went surfing for mtopia and instead gave him tips and all. of course, she tries to bite her lip from laughing while doing so.
(mtopia ep. 3) taehee goes to sit beside a nervous taeyong on the dock as he waits for his turn. chuckling, she says, “hyung, just pace yourself, alright? don’t rush—“ but then kai cuts her off, also noticing the scared look on the rapper’s expression, “you won’t die anyways.” taehee whips her head back to glare at kai, though it was clear she was trying to hold in her laughs. “HEY!”
iconic moment (mtopia ep. 2) taehee was the first to pick out of the eight of them. whether she’ll start shedding tears or not, her fate relies on the fifth sushi she had chosen, hoping that it wasn’t the one with wasabi. “it’s the one. she lost it,” baekhyun says as he tries to throw taehee off guard. “it’s not,” she replies, though her eyes said otherwise.
once she grabs the piece of sushi in between her chopsticks, she takes a tentative glance towards the staff and keeps her eyes on them as she took it in whole. taehee knew she was doomed on the first chew, the spiciness of the paste burns her tongue and brings tears to her face. she laughs dryly as a few tears slipped down her face and sniffs, “i never knew wasabi was this spicy.” the boys behind her laugh at the crack in her voice, the staff handing her a tissue as she staggered back to her place beside taeyong who immediately wrapped his arms around her to comfort her. “taehee can’t handle spicy foods well,” taeyong chuckles, “are you okay?”
“yeah, my mouth just feels like it’s burning!,” taehee exclaims, her wild gestures adding humor to her expression. taeyong lets out a hearty laugh as he gave her water, “have this.” he watches her down the water in one go, though there were still tears in her eyes, “taehee, you are too cute. i’m serious.” taehee laughs as she wiped her eyes, and they continue with the game.
song train wreck by james arthur
ten tnt
they are literal geniuses !!!! but... they have their moments.
(200930 live) “he’s the main character in ‘aladdin’, right?,” and with knowing smiles, the others nod at ten’s question. clueless, ten decides to ask more, “what was his name? a whole new world~” and baekhyun and mark tell him he’s right, but ten has literally no clue. chuckling at his cuteness, taehee speaks up, “hyung! he’s the main character in ‘aladdin’! aladdin!” mark and kai laugh loudly at her hint, she was already giving him an answer. kai notices that, like ten, taehee hadn’t got her question correct yet with all the obvious hints they were giving her, and so he laughs harder. “taehee! don’t act like you’ve got you’re question correct!,” the said girl shrugs exaggeratedly, bringing her hands up in the air as if to question the heavens. “you told me he was powerful! so is he like a superhero or something? thor?,” she exclaims, and the others began laughing at her guess, the maknae unaware of the large ‘LEE SOOMAN’ on her cap. “who is it?!”
their banter that goes back and forth are one of the things that make the members’ stomachs hurt from laughing.
(superm: ready to fly in la) “the three maknaes are my babies,” ten tells the camera, tilting his head to look taehee into the eye before continuing, “but then you’d be my least favorite.”
taehee knows that ten secretly has her as the favorite loves her too, so she always makes it a point to call him cute or something to throw him off guard.
iconic moment (superm as we wish ep. 1) it was very obvious how taehee felt about ten’s drama. she tried to hold back her smiles but ten was just too cute, it made her heart run in circles. when his drama ended, the boys praised ten’s performance, but baekhyun noticed how much taehee liked it. he calls her out, “taehee-ssi, you seem to like this very much.”
a surprised ‘really?’ comes from ten while taehee spoke. “ten oppa just looked so.... natural while doing it,” taehee says, her words and expressions assuring ten he really did a great job. “my heart is doing flips right now?”
the boys laughed, “did you fall for him?” and before taehee got to answer their leader’s question, ten said, “i’ll date you based on your performance.”
“i didn’t even say yes!”
song positions by ariana grande
lucas luhee
lucas took one look at him, mark, and taehee and just went, “you know if someone took a look at us, they’d think taehee was the oldest.” (taehee had punched him on the shoulder while mark hit the table, laughing)
but then he clarified that it was just because taehee had this motherly aura around her and that she takes care of him and mark really well.
from then on, lucas would accidentally call taehee ‘noona’; sometimes, he would call her that intentionally when asking for the snacks that were kept in her bag, or teasing her.
(superm as we wish ep. 2) “unnie,” they hear taehee say from the monitor. while the boys accompanied each other in different work environments, taehee went alone to a little café to try out the experience herself. she found herself well acquainted with one of the staff members that had showed her around, and she found herself asking, “how old are you?” the boys erupted into choruses of ‘ooh’s’ when they heard her, baekhyun jokingly asking if she was there to find a date. taehee shakes her head shyly, but she busts out laughing when lucas shouts, “NOONA, FIGHTING!”
we see more of taehee being a baby with lucas in superm :(
he’d give her piggyback rides or ask her if she’s eaten yet, and if she says no, lucas would be like, “come on, man! the last time i saw you eat was breakfast but you only ate a sandwich. wait for me here, i’ll get you a plate.”
iconic moment (mtopia ep. 11-2) as mark and kai shoot each other’s candles out with their water guns, taehee leans into lucas’ side as she laughs with her head buried into his shoulder. it was an endearing sight to see them comparing hand sizes, both of their eyes widening at the size difference. “you’re hand is so small!,” lucas says. “well, duh. your hand is like the size of my face!”
song rather be by clean bandit (ft. jess glynne)
mark markhee
taehee knows so well that superm mark lee is a different breed
(the story of ‘jopping’) “you look so handsome these days,” taehee said to mark as she took in his appearance, causing the latter to become shy and flustered, “really?”
but mark caught onto it this year and ‘complained’ that taehee had favoritism .... to superm mark
“you’re cute in 127 and dream!!!! you’re different here, what’s wrong with that?”
taehee LOVED ‘talk about’. she posted a video of her jamming to it in her manager’s car on twitter.
in mtopia, taehee literally took a glance at mark’s quiz in the first episode and said, “ahh you should get this one the first try, it’s easy.” cue a pouty mark
during games, mark knows taehee in and out so it comes off as an advantage to him and a disadvantage to her.
(mtopia ep. 6) “it’s taehee. taehee is the liar.”
mark and taehee are roommates most of the time and their nightly routines just consist of putting face masks on each other and listening to music while waiting!
iconic moment (mtopia ep. 11-2) “sleepover!!!!,” taehee says excitedly as she sat on the bed with mark. she had just finished brushing her teeth while mark brought out facemasks from his bag. “you wanna put them on each other?,” mark asks, tearing one of the packets open already.
he turns his head to his right and giggles. taehee had her bangs tied up in a short ponytail, her eyebrows arched in a cheery smile. “you look like 뚱이!,” mark laughs, “dude, seriously. you’re so cute.”
“whatever, just put it on,” taehee rolls her eyes playfully as she hit mark’s shoulder. she closes her eyes but hears mark chuckle again. opening only her left eye, she says, “what’s wrong?”
“you’re really cute,” mark repeats, both of taehee’s eyes now wide open at his compliment. she goes to say something but chooses against it, closing her eyes back again when mark begins putting the mask on her face.
song until the last falling star by matthew perryman jones
#s.taehee#nct#nct 127#nct dream#nct u#wayv#shinee#exo#nct imagines#nct x reader#nct reactions#nct blurbs#nct au#nct fluff#nct angst#nct female member#nct female addition#nct female oc#kpop female addition#mark lee imagines#taeyong imagines#baekhyun imagines#taemin imagines#kai imagines#lucas imagines#ten imagines
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тоска, 18+ Tanaka x Reader, 2.2
Written for The Smut Pile Server Collab: Mafia AU | MASTERLIST HERE.
тоска
tus-ka: Russian, noun
It is a dull ache of the soul, a sick pining, a vague restlessness, mental throes, yearning. In particular cases, it may be the desire for somebody or something specific, nostalgia, lovesickness.
Russian Mafia AU: Tanaka Ryu x A Reader OC
Rating: E for explicit
Warnings: Violence, Blood, Death, Masturbation, Oral sex, Public Sex, Grinding, Cheating, Denied Orgasm, Manipulation, YEARNING
Word count: 9,328
Part 1 | Part 2
GLOSSARY
Enjoy the final part of this two part hell.
Special thanks to: @joyousandverywarlike for being my ride-or-die, @pleasantanathema , @present-mel and @linestrider for hosting this collab, and everyone in the server for being amazing friends. I would not have been able to write this without any of you, and I truly mean that. @the-smut-pile
2.2
6. Tanaka
Daichi, Sergei, Ryunoslav and Yuuri sit in the wooden banya, white towels wrapped around their waists as they sweat and speak about the Georgian trip. It smells of cedar, rich and woody, and sweat. Like men.
“Boss Vashadze is unwell,” Daichi muses, knees spread wide as he relaxes against the hot walls, facing the glass door. “It won’t be long until he retires.”
Tanaka sits perpendicular to him, on a lower step with one foot perched up and his leg bent. Yuuri is opposite Tanaka, and Sergei stands, lightly smacking his back with a Venik, the scent of eucalyptus and birch dispersing through the air with each tap against his skin.
“That is good for you, bad for connections,” Sergei says, “how is business there?”
He always talked numbers first, pleasure second. Yuuri laughs, reaching for the besom of herbs from Sergei’s hold to lash his legs.
“Fine. I am gaining more of a footing around the ministers... However it will still take some time before they trust me. There are rumors of a new political party rising. We have to keep an eye open for unrest in Eastern Europe.”
“Ukraine?” Sergei asks, rubbing some of the leaves that stuck to his arms into his skin.
Daichi nods, then his eyes slide sideways to peer at Tanaka. His shaved hair has grown out slightly, which will be trimmed tonight, and he picks at his toenail of the foot bent beneath him.
“We can discuss strategy after we eat. How was your weekend, Ryunoslav?” The Bulldog asks, eyebrows raised.
Tanaka lifts his head casually with a simple smile.
“Just what I needed, spasiba Boss.”
Daichi’s laugh booms in the sauna, and Yuuri joins in, slapping the wood next to his thigh.
“Tell us more, Ryu! When I saw the first prostitute leave after thirty minutes, I thought it was over. But then, when I saw a second one arrive at midnight, I thought you must’ve not enjoyed the first.”
Tanaka frowns, looking at Yuuri in confusion before realising who he meant. He had seen Valentina arrive late at night, although he didn’t recognise her, or so he hopes.
“She was banging on the door very loudly, woke me up. Tell me, was it the same one from before wanting a second round?”
With a glance to Daichi, who is scanning his every expression,Tanaka shrugs.
“It was the same whore. I must be very good in bed.”
All the men burst out in laughter, but Tanaka laughs the loudest in compensation. Daichi closes his eyes as he tilts his head back.
“Well, she stayed for a long time. I only saw her leave past five am.”
“Yuuri, are you stalking Ryunoslav?” Sergei questions, using the water the Venik was soaking in to rinse off his body, the liquid sizzling as it hits the warm floor by his feet.
“No, I just found it interesting that Ryunoslav will fuck someone twice in a single night when there’s only been one woman he’s ever wan-”
“Yuuri.” Tanaka growls, cutting off his closest friend who has had too much vodka before entering the sauna. The heat and alcohol is loosening his tongue too quickly. Daichi sits up at this news, leaning forward so that muscle bulge and inflate.
“Oh? Is this true? Who is this woman?”
Tanaka waves his hand dismissively as he glares at Yuuri, “I met her years ago, when I first started working for you, Boss. No one of importance now.”
“Surely she still means something if you don’t want Yuuri to talk about her.” Sergei chimes in, climbing past their heads to sit on the top bench next to Daichi. Tanaka avoids his gaze, but can feel the Bulldog sniffing at the faint nerves that climb up Tanaka’s spine, his ears blushing red from the heat. He feels closed in, backed into a corner.
“It is an unrequited love, so please, I would prefer not to speak about it anymore.”
The men all murmur in understanding, except for Yuuri, who says, “I will just have to get you drunk to tell us about her then.”
7 - Valentina
Daichi sits across from you in the chartered jet, the beige leather seats muted even further with the deep rumble of the engine and the third glass of champagne in your veins. He’s reading a newspaper, you’re staring out at the cotton-peach clouds as they pass by. To your left, Sergei Sugawarov scribbles in books filled with numbers, the taptaptap of the calculator permeating the heavy air.
“Refill, Mrs. Sawamurova?” the air hostess asks, her smile wide as she holds the Moët & Chandon bottle in her manicured hands. She’s trembling slightly, and you smile reassuringly.
“Leave the bottle, thank you,” your heavy Russian accent drips from your tongue as you answer in English, and the bottle is placed in a silver ice bucket on the birchwood table between you and Daichi.
Two hours have passed during the five hour flight from Ufa Airport to Côte d'Azur Airport, and you pour another glass for yourself as you watch Daichi turn a page. He glances up at you with a small smile, but his eyes are hard. Something happened while he was in Georgia with your father. With a small smile of your own, you turn your gaze back to the window, leaving red lipstick on the rim of the glass.
A phone rings, and you hear Tanaka’s gruff voice answer the call, the memory of last week shooting painfully through your core.
“Oi?”
Some silence, before the Khazak turns in his seat behind Daichi and whispers through the space between the leather and the wall of the jet. You can’t help the way you look at him, stormy grey eyes peering out at you as he whispers into the ear of your husband. Your brow furrows when Daichi jerks his head in a slight nod, tense.
Tanaka retreats back around and you’re left staring at the empty spot, snapping your eyes to the calculating gaze of The Bulldog.
“Is everything alright, my love?” you ask, deciding to stand from your seat and sit on his arm rest.
Daichi folds the newspaper away, one arm wrapping around your waist while the other takes a sip of the champagne straight from the bottle.
“It seems this trip will not only be pleasure,” he muses, eyes closing as he swallows. However, when they open, his face melts into the calm reassurance you’ve always known when he smiles up at you and places a kiss to the cream wool crepe of your blouse. “I have something to take care of, but it will only be a moment. Nothing to worry about.”
You nod, delicate hands stroking at Daichi’s hair, but Tanaka’s cologne wafts up, invading your nose.
“I understand.”
***
The drive to the private Villa La Vigie winds between grey and green rock mountains to your left with glimpses of the dazzling azure ocean of where the French Riviera gets its name to your right. You’re invited to stay in the home of your fathers dear friend, Monsieur Lagerfeld, situated on a private hill just outside Monaco. He will not be there, March being the month he spends in his apartment in Paris, so you and Daichi and the many bodyguards take residence for the week.
You’ve visited this house a number of times in your youth, in your adulthood, and yet it steals the air from your lungs each time you return. It’s one o’clock in the afternoon when you pull up the driveway. In front of you, the two story villa looms in it’s beautiful white-painted glory, the sun a beacon shining upon it. Light brick extends below to where there is a wine cellar, garage and access to the private beach club below.
The car parks, and Daichi kisses your cheek in the backseat before he exits the vehicle and strides up the steps and through the large glass double doors, answering his phone while bodyguards open the way for him. You see Tanaka grip the steering wheel, the leather of his gloves stretch and squeak. It is the first time you are alone with him since that night a week ago, and the heater in the car feels sweltering against your skin.
“Thank you for the drive, Ryunoslav,” you mumble, shifting to the edge of the seat to leave out of the side Daichi had.
“Val,” he starts, then his mouth shuts and his eyes catch yours in the reflection of the rearview mirror, “of course.”
The terracotta tiles of the terrace reflect a salmon pink up the walls of the villa, and you smile at the men as you pass by and find the master bedroom on the first floor. You can already hear Daichi negotiating in the connected office, and you decide to bathe. As the water runs in the porcelain tub, the water mists with the scent of lavende de provence, and you open the windows looking out over the meditterean ocean. The salt and trees wash over you as the sound of the ocean crashing against rocks floats up, and for an instance, you imagine jumping out the window and into that endless blue. The winter air trickles into the warm bathroom.
Notes of a waltz dance in from the direction of the office and you see Daichi’s shadow move around in the bedroom as he unbuttons his cufflinks and loosens his navy blue tie. He walks into the bathroom where you’ve already slipped on the linen bathrobe, your blouse and jeans folded neatly onto the clothes ladder leaning against the wall.
“Care to join?” you ask, clipping your hair up. Daichi peels his shirt off and drops it near your own in a crumpled pile, his thick muscles rippling with each movement as he undresses.
“Prosti, Gadyuka. I have to get to the board meeting before the gala tonight,” he apologises, turning on the glass door shower as he gets into it on the opposite side to the bath. You watch as the water in the faucet of the bath sputters, and your heart imitates.
“Ah yes, I forgot. What-”
“The car arrives at seven, Khazak will escort you.”
Your head whips around to stare at Daichi as he massages white suds over his body, large palms running over his chest where the Sawamurov crest is tattooed in a large circle. He raises his eyebrows. You clear your throat, standing to drop the gown and dip a toe into the water.
“Not you?”
“Unfortunately no, but I will be there waiting for you. I know the dress you are wearing and can’t have any man trying to steal you for himself.”
Daichi’s honeyed words wash over you as you submerge into the water, turning off the faucet and staring out to the sea, a stark sapphire against the lily-white of the bathroom walls and window pane. In the mirror above the sink, you can see The Bulldog get out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his defined waist while he shakes the water from his hair.
You laugh as you turn to observe him while he pats on the cologne displayed on the sink, before brushing his teeth.
“I doubt anyone will try to steal me away.”
He looks at you in the reflection, a curious expression in his eyes, before he spits and rinses.
“Yes, well, you never know. You might run off with a French vineyard heir by the end of the night.”
“Never, Daichi. No one can be my Bulldog but you.”
He snorts, turning to watch as you lather yourself in Chanel shower gel, the scent mixing with the lavender already clinging to the air.
“Da, no one is like me.”
He leans down to place a chaste kiss on your lips before he exits the bathroom and changes into a clean outfit waiting for him in the Master bedroom. The made-to-measure Chanel suit hangs in a black garment bag that he carries out with him as he leaves to join the council meeting of the European Casino Association before the Annual Art Auction tonight.
The interaction runs through your mind as you mull over the look in his eyes, the way he tensed before he kissed you goodbye, the faintest flicker of jealousy in his eyes that flared when he joked about you leaving him. Suddenly, you remember Ryunoslav’s lips against your neck and you squeeze your eyes shut. With a deep inhale, you sink deep under the water to feel it tickle your nostrils and earlobes, before submerging your head.
Your fingers find the curves of your thighs, dragging up slowly to feel how the water moves around your hands and displaces against your skin. You lift your face slightly, until the edge of the water tickles your skin and you inhale, swirling the skin of your clit. In your mind, Ryunoslav’s kisses fall hot and wet against your body, skin red and heated in the bathtub while you press hard circles against sensitive nerves. You’re not trying to take it slow, coaxing the first wave of clenches quickly as you imagine a thick cock sliding over and over inside you.
Ryunoslav morphs into Daichi, and you sit up with a gasp, fingers not slowing, your hand gripping the handle of the tub tightly as your abdomen contracts. Uncontrollably, Ryu and Daichi alternate, their bodies shifting fluidly until a faceless man fucks into you.
You orgasm on the verge of tears, confused and aching. The styling team will arrive in an hour.
You stand, feeling the cold winter air touch your heated skin. Wrapped again in the robe, you close the window and bind your hair in a towel.
A Russian Waltz still plays on the radio inside the ensuite office, and you look around to filter the channel to a French songstress crooning over the small speakers. Next to the stereo, is Daichi’s small black book, open to his to-do list, and your eyes scan over it before you can stop yourself, reading the neatly scribbled words.
14 March 2006, 1:00 am, La Serpent Fleur
That was the name of the Superyacht you and Daichi are to go on after the gala for the afterparty to the auction. You frown, thinking of the myriad of reasons what he might do there, who he’ll meet with other than the ECA board today. It must be to do with what happened in Georgia and was whispered to him during the flight.
You turn, leaving the book just as you found it and unpack the suitcase that was brought to the bedroom in preparation for tonight.
8. Tanaka
Ryunoslav waits at the front door, facing the short five-stair foyer that branches into the stairwell leading to the first floor. The golden light of the sunset filters in gentle waves through the chiffon curtains of the entry hall.
The first thing he sees of Valentina is in the reflection of the large silver mirror facing the stairwell on the landing. A single leg slinking out from a thigh-high slit, while a heart shaped pump in patent black is clasped around her ankle. The metal YSL heel clinks with each step. Next is the black, silk crepe de chine perfectly draping to the floor–not clinging to anything but the curve of her hips–and the bodice tailored to her waist in a tight structure that pendulums side-to-side.
However, what steals the very air from his lungs, stops his heart, is the bustier covering her breasts. The dress is strapless, the neckline two rounded cups that trace down the sides of her cleavage and towards her ribs before turning and meeting in a gentle hill at the end of her sternum. The dress is Yves Saint Laurent. Ryunoslav watches as Valentina rounds the stairwell and stands at the top of the foyer, opera length gloves running up her arms and with one hand on her hip while the other clasps a small black Bulgari clutch. Around her neck is a pendant necklace, emeralds glittering amongst diamonds and silver, set in the shape of a viper head. Matching emerald drop earrings hang from her lobes, reflecting the golden sun and glittering green against her neck. Valentina’s hair is pinned up, and that tattoo that curls from her left shoulder down her arm disappears beneath the gloves, reminding him that beauty is a secret poison. He swallows, blinks, then climbs up the steps to hand her the white fur coat he was holding.
“Vot eto da… You look beautiful, Mrs. Sawamurova.” Tanaka whispers, mindful of the bodyguards and staff littering the villa.
“Spasiba, Khazak,” she smiles, slipping her arms into the silk lining and fixing the collar. “Is the car ready?”
“Da.”
“Good, let’s go.”
The exchange between them feels mechanical, and Tanaka rushes ahead to open the car door, waiting until she is comfortable before shutting it and sliding into the driver’s seat. It is nowhere near the low temperatures of Russia in March, however he can’t stop the shivers that travel up his spine, and the ugly twist of jealousy that stabs at his heart.
The Casino de Monte Carlo, where the gala is being held, is a mere five minute drive from the villa, yet the silence is heavy, weighted, and slows down time.
“I missed you last week,” Valentina whispers, looking out the window at the midnight blue sky. A traffic light changes from red to green.
“Me too.”
The conversation ends when Ryunoslav pulls the Aston Martin around the fountain, waiting behind a elder couple stepping out of their black limo. The statues on either side of the Casino name look down at him as he parks and climbs out, a porter beating him to her door.
Camera’s flash, the music of a quartet floats out from the massive wooden doors up the entryway, and Ryunoslav remains closely behind Valentina’s right arm as he escorts her inside, pulling the ticket for both of them from his inner coat pocket and handing it to the doorman.
The grand foyer of the Casino is massive, ceilings high with a stained-glass skylight and the floor a white tile with black triangles in a circular pattern. Posed around the room, mostly in the center of the circles, are the artworks up for auction: a variety of paintings, sculptures, artifacts and some vintage designer jewellery. The golden chandeliers light the air with a sepia filter that softens the chatter and noise within. On the first floor bannister across the long hall, is a banner exclaiming, ‘2006 Annual ECA Art Auction’. Couples mingle, champagne is sipped and the Hors d’oeuvres are ignored in favour of the alcohol.
“I will check our coats,” Tanaka murmurs low in Russian, watching as Val slides the white fur down her arms to hand it to him with a polite smile, the kind he’s seen her wear in the public eye alongside Daichi for many years now.
“I’ll wait here, then we go find Daichi.”
His heart thumps painfully, the curve of her shoulders delicate as they flex in passing the heavy coat, but he nods and heads to the coat check just off the side. In passing, he spots Daichi at the top of the red-carpeted staircase, head bowed to speak secretly with someone Ryunoslav can not see, but knows. Daichi’s eyes find the growing storm in Tanaka’s with a smile, and he straightens to bid the woman a goodbye and descends the stairs.
“Sir,” Tanaka nods, pocketing the number for the coats.
“Ryunoslav,” Daichi returns the greeting, casually clapping the man on his shoulder. “Enjoy the evening, I will see you at the yacht later, yes?”
“She could’ve seen you, sir.” Tanaka whispers, carefully keeping eye contact with his Boss. Daichi smirks cooly, glancing back up the stairs and at a retreating woman’s back wearing a deep green dress.
“She did not see me. Thank you, again, for keeping this secret. Now, go, enjoy the party. Hell, if you see something you like, bid on it. I will pay.”
With that, Daichi walks past his Head of Security, chest puffing up as he walks towards his wife. Ryunoslav watches as she gives Daichi a gentle kiss on the cheek before wrapping a gloved hand around his bicep and following him into the crowd.
9. Valentina
The evening passes by in a blur.
The dinner and speeches take up half the evening before the auction begins, and the gala attendees disperse throughout the Casino, while you and Daichi walk to the gardens. Heaters are spaced periodically, warmth sinking below while gentle lights litter the walkways and grass. The stone steps leading there are cool, and you see your breath misting with each exhale before you’re back under the warmth.
The area of the auction outside has statues, planted with lighting that bring the romantic and violent figures to life.
“This one would look beautiful in our gardens in summer,” you muse, studying a small mermaid brushing her hair, tail flicked up and shells covering her breast.
“Anything for you,” Daichi replies, writing down a number with his auction code and placing it in the poll box besides the statue.
You just laugh politely, aware of Daichi’s two bodyguards following the both of you.
“Let’s go back inside. I want to see how our bid on the Kandinsky is doing.” Daichi offers, but you shake your head.
“I’ll walk around here for a bit longer. It’s such a beautiful night and the noise inside was giving me a headache.”
“As you wish.”
You spend a few minutes admiring the remaining statues, finding a waiter that hands you a glass of champagne. With small sips, you hug an arm around your waist, looking over the stone wall at the beautiful, glittering scenery of Monte-Carlo below. You find yourself tucked away in a dark corner of the ledge, where the lights of the gala are few, the tree branches of the gardens overhang, and the city has come to life beneath you. You can hear jazz music from a bar down the road, and you wish you were sitting on a terrace with a glass of wine instead.
“C’est magnifique, non?” A heavy french accent sinks into you, and you glance at the man that leans with his back to the view, a deep purple suit contrasting against his tanned skin and sharp cheekbones. He smokes a hand-rolled cigarette. You look back out at the city.
“Oui, trop beau,” you reply softly, taking another sip, shifting onto the foot farthest from the stranger. He turns and offers you one of the smokes, tucking it away in his jacket breast pocket with a smile and a tap when you decline. His eyes travel down your breasts, before glancing back up to your arching brows and unamused eyes.
“Je ne parle pas de la vue,” I do not mean the view, “Emmanuelle Beauchant,” he offers an outstretched palm.
“Valentina,” he lifts your gloved hand to his lips, but hovers just above contact when you continue, “Sawamurova.”
“Desolee, I did not realise you were not French, or married,” Emmanuelle apologises in English.
You smile politely, lifting the glass to your mouth to down the last of the fizzing alcohol.
“An honest mistake.”
“Your husband’s Casinos are some of my favourites. Please, accept my apologies. Let me get you a new glass.” He waves down a waiter, plucking the empty flute from your fingers and replacing it before you can reject. “I am the coordinator of this petite soiree. Enjoy your evening, Mrs. Sawamurova.” With that, he leaves in a hurry, scampering off into the light much like he had appeared, leaving you alone again. Almost.
You feel the warmth of another body to your right, and you almost sigh from exhaustion when Ryunoslav’s gruff voice washes over you in comforting Russian. It breaks like the wave against the shore.
“I thought I would have to scare him away.”
Tanaka’s serious eyes beneath the shadow of a deep brow pulls the first real chuckle of the evening from your chest, and you see his shoulders somewhat relax as he leans with a hip on the stone.
“It was innocent, Ryu.”
“He wanted to fuck you.”
“He’s French,” you counter, placing the champagne glass down, sliding it away from your body and towards the party. “And everyone wants to fuck me.”
You spin, losing your balance as Tanaka pulls your hand towards him and twists you so that your back presses against the cool stone in a darkened alcove. His forehead is on yours, eyes shut, and breath fanning over your lips. Your own chest heaves with the sudden rush. His hands dig into your hips, yours into his shoulders. Your bag drops to the floor.
“You have no idea,” each word is punctuated by palms shimmying up the side of your waist, thumbs digging into the fabric, “how badly I want to fuck you too.”
He wraps his thick forearms behind your back hugging you tight and into himself as he folds over you and brings his lips to touch yours. It’s deep, and although passion usually pours from his kiss, this one is born out of jealousy, desperation, and desire.
Compliments drip like honey from Ryunoslav’s mouth as he mumbles them into your skin, words melting so that they become part of you.
“Ryu, Ryu, stop, we can’t. It’s so open.”
He shushes you, a palm snaking under the boning of the open neckline to cup the breast, nipplie erect from the night chill. “No one saw me come here.”
“But the people. They know who I am, mmpf.” A pinch to your nipple has you moaning under your breath, head tilting back against the stone, cold against heated flesh.
“They are all too busy with their own conquests, showing up one another.”
“You light a fire in my heart,” his onslaught of compliments don’t cease, and you realise that tonight is the tipping point. The intensity of his words drag you beneath his waters, much like the way his fingers find the high slit of your dress and sink into your folds. Your knee falls open to let him pull you deeper.
“Underwear?”
“Not with this dress.”
“Whore.” Teeth nip at your neck.
“Yours.”
An animalistic groan rumbles through your veins from his mouth, and you clutch at the lapel of his jacket as his fingers thrust shallow, over and over again. You want him–need him– inside you, and the thought of public sex no longer scares you. In this moment, only Ryunoslav exists, the smell of lilies and the fresh ocean fill you, devouring you with a hint of something darker that you recognise as human.
Sin. And something else.
A zipper comes down, his cock unfolds and stretches you out.
“I love you.”
The words tumble from your lips before you can stop them, and even then, you don’t keep them in as you whisper, him thrustsing into your aching core. You vaguely hear him mumbling it back to you. His voice low and sincere, forehead against yours, lips against yours. Your bodies become one.
“Blyat, where can I?” desperation fills his voice, and you barely utter the words before he spills inside you, keeping you warm and plugged up, panting against his face, chin tucked down.
A hand rifles through his pants pocket, and he pulls out his regular small handkerchief, stained, but comforting. You take it from him, careful to keep your face hidden as he pulls out and you wipe yourself under your skirt.
“Ryunoslav.” His name feels like lava, molten on your tongue as it rolls down your body and ignites a fire over your skin, burning you. “We have to stop seeing each other.”
He tenses against you, arms shielding you from the world so only the two of you exist.
“Why?”
“We’ve changed. We’re not just having fun anymore, Ryu-”
“What do you mean we’ve changed?”
“Us. This.” You curse, gesturing vaguely to him and yourself, feeling the fire spread to your ears and your heart.
“Nothing has changed. I have always loved you.”
Your heart drops into your stomach, turning over and over as you digest it, painfully aware of how much truth rings in his words, and how you’re sure you’ve always loved him back.
“We have to stop. Or we have to tell Daichi.”
His lips connect with your forehead. You hear him swallow.
“Tonight then. Together.”
“Together.”
Ryunoslav stays close to you as he picks up the bag from the floor, handing you the mirror inside to fix your lipstick, your hair, before you dust the stone from your back and ass.
“You look beautiful,” he whispers to you a final time, stepping to the side so you emerge from the shadow, pick up your forgotten champagne glass and head back into where art dances together and people mingle.
10. Tanaka
Tanaka watches as Valentina saunters away, past the bodies to rejoin the party. With a heavy sigh, he leans against the stone, cooling his forehead and calming his thumping heart. His feet bump against something and with one eye, he squints at the ground and spots glittering emeralds in the dark. Her necklace.
Quickly, he picks it up, carefully placing it in his suit jacket pocket, and curses when he sees the time on his watch. He has to find Daichi and head to the yacht to do the final security checks before he arrives. Vines wrap themselves around his intestines, anxiety leaking into each step, the emerald necklace a dead weight in his jacket.
He finds the Boss surrounded by influential board members, holding a glass of vodka casually as they all laugh at his jokes. The Chanel suit drapes down his broad back perfectly, clean cut and sharp, the single seam a crisp line.
“Sorry for interrupt,” Tanaka apologies, English tangling on his tongue. He continues in a low Russian to Daichi, sweat beading on the back of his neck, palms clammy and therefore kept in his pants pocket. It’s better that way, his tattoos are less appreciated around the higher class of society.
Daichi nods, a loose smile along with his loosened tie. He hands Tanaka a paper that shows he won the bid on the Kandinsky painting. “Arrange this on the way out. Leave Valentina’s coat with mine.”
“Ya ponimayu.”
Tanaka turns to leave, but Daichi calls out one more time.
“Ryunoslav?”
“Da?”
“You have lipstick on your collar.”
Tanaka feels nausea bubbling up his gut, not from the proximity of your scent to The Bulldog’s nose, but from the thought of later tonight. He forces a cocky smirk and shrug, turning on his heel to head to the back office to finalise the paperwork for the painting and add the delivery address, before shrugging his thick coat on and stepping outside by the valet. The air has cooled considerably from the heat of the balcony and between your thighs. Once safely in the car, he rubs the stain furiously in the reflection of the rearview mirror, making it set even further into the white fabric. It blends into the threads like spilt blood. With a grumble, he drives to the harbor.
La Serpent Fleur is a sleek superyacht with three decks above water and one below, housing jet ski’s, a speedboat, storage and crew quarters. The middle and lower decks have outdoor and indoor seating, with main bedrooms for up to 15 couples to sleep in. The flooring and interior is light teakwood, rich brown accents amongst cream and white leather and fabric. It’s unmissable in the late night, lit up in silvery white, the name illuminated against a navy blue sky and pitch black water. It reflects stars in the meditterean sea.
Tanaka greets all staff, deploying his bratva across the yacht to inspect all rooms and inform the captain of the upcoming helicopter landing at 1:00 am. It’s not often that Mafia business mixes with Business business, but as money is always intertwined, this time, it is unavoidable. The pool on the top deck shimmers aquamarine, and Tanaka inspects that the bar is fully stocked for the upcoming meeting. Vodka and Campari. This floor is only for Daichi and a select few.
“It’s like I’m a fucking assistant,” he grumbles under his breath, withdrawing a small hand-gun strapped to his calf and securing it in the hidden shelf under the bar top. You never know, he smiles, tapping the holster against his back for comfort.
All checks are done by the time the first of the guests arrive, high-stakes rollers for the gambling about to happen. Tanaka keeps to the shadows, lighting a cigarette as he surveys the walkway leading up to the yacht, and it’s guests. They are all smiling, huddling together in their pair against the cool ocean breeze. He takes a look at the pack that was confiscated from Ukai with distaste, flicking the cigarette into the ocean water.
Daichi and Valentina are the last to arrive, and although he’s smiling, she is not, lipstick slightly faded and a smudge of mascara under her eyes. Tanaka watches as she disappears as soon as she set foot on the yacht, hurrying off to inside the cabin before anyone can stop her. Tanaka’s eyes follow her retreating figure, the white of her coat bristling, before he steps up to greet Daichi.
“Everything is ready for Kuroo Testuro to arrive, Boss,” he reports, murmuring low.
“Perfect, evening has turned into disaster. Make sure no one will disturb us except for emergency. It will not take long. What is his eta?” Daichi never lowers the corners of his mouth, but those brown eyes are hard mahogany. Tanaka checks his watch, the light above reflecting in the glass, shining in the storm in his eyes.
“Forty-five minutes. We have to set sail now, all guests have arrived and the poker tables inside have been set up.”
“I will wait upstairs.”
“Yes, Boss.”
Tanaka sighs, running a hand over his shorn hair, a shiver rippling down his spine. He hears his name, and he turns to face one of his brothers, following after to inspect a stairwell.
It does not take long for the party to fall into full swing. Continuing with free-flowing champagne is the key to keeping rich socialites and underground dealers happy and oblivious. Daichi stands near the railing, ice cubes in his glass clinking while he surveys the decks below and waits. Tanaka stands to attention off the side, the cool winter air breezing through his suit jacket, the veins on his knuckles and forearms almost frozen; he stuffs them into his pockets. The cool silver of Valentina’s necklace shocks him and he remembers he has to sneak it back to her. He peers over the edge, spotting her in the distance, smiling once more, makeup fixed and socialising.
His heart thumps, emeralds and diamonds cutting a hole in his jacket pocket, beating faster until it syncs up with the incoming helicopter blades. They whir around in a steady beat that consumes the noise below and thrums through his bones. Then, the wind hits him. Air cold as ice as the machine descends, the collar of his jacket whipping up and folding into itself. Kuroo Testuro has arrived.
The blades come to a halt and Tanaka steps forward, two men overtaking him to climb up the stairs of the helicopter pad landing and open the door. Long legs dressed in a black pin-stripe suit step out, a lopsided cocky smirk plastered on the Italian boss’s face.
“Ciao Daichi, it’s been a while!” Kuroo calls over the wind, arms stretching out while he’s patted down. “Khazak, you’re looking sour.”
Tanaka scowls, not entirely sure what The Panther of the Testuro family said to him. Daichi turns to face the man completely, walking until he stands next to Tanaka, waiting for the man to descend the white metal stairs to the upper deck. The Boss’s exchange a stiff handshake, their eyes piercing as one fights for dominance over the other. Daichi wins, his hand slapping against Kuroo’s back in a hearty greeting.
“Let’s get to business, something to drink?” The Bulldog offers, but Kuroo is laughing, already walking to the leather sofas around the pool, flopping down onto it with one leg crossed over the other. He waves to one of his bodyguards, pointing at the bar.
“Always so formal Daichi, tell me, how is Valentina? Still married to you?” Kuroo’s words tumble out quickly, Italian accent thick enough that Tanaka can only pick up on a few words. He registers your name, and the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention, ready to attack at Daichi’s order. The Boss takes a deep breath, his teeth gritting.
“She is fine. Enjoying party below.”
“Pity, I think she’d be happier up here with us. Won’t you call her?”
“Careful, Kuroo.” Daichi warns, but the Panther just smiles his wicked Cheshire grin in return.
“Ah, I’m joking. I will just keep the fantasy of her lips around my–”
A hand darts out over Kuroo’s shoulder, interrupting any further explanation of imagination. Tanaka grabs Daichi’s arm, one that had tensed with it’s fist closed around a concealed gun in a holster on his back.
“Campari, sir?”
“Ah! Grazie!” He takes a sip, setting it down on the glass table beside him. “Now, we can talk business.”
Tanaka listens to the low conversation between the two bosses, the discussion of the new trade route of cocaine between Italy and Russia. It takes some time to adjust to the accent, but then he’s following along, standing with his hands in his pockets, a thumb gliding over the necklace. There had been an interruption along the coasts between Lecce and Albania, several different Sicillian Mafia’s holding up some of Daichi’s shipments due to unpaid ‘reparations’, a farce to ignite a turf war between the Families in Italy and their Russian connections.
“You must call off your friends in Italy. We keep up our end of bargain. I will not be so understanding in future.”
“Ah, but you see, they are greedy and believe you are not paying properly for the passage.”
“I assure you, I am.”
Tanaka stiffens, seeing how Daichi begins to inflate, irritation lacing his voice. Kuroo chuckles, taking a slow sip with raised eyebrows.
“Oh, I believe you. I can convince them but I’ll need some extra incentive from your end.”
Tanaka speaks up, eyes narrowing as he sniffs out Kuroo’s angle. “We can not give you that.”
“You are one of the largest groups in the world, surely you have some men for me?”
“No.”
Tanaka’s blood begins to boil, nails biting into the skin of his palms enough to draw blood. The gun strapped on his back heavy as it calls to be unholstered. His men are not dispensable. Kuroo sighs, then his eyes glance to the left where the noise of the party floats in the night air, and he smiles.
“Then maybe you have a woman.”
Tanaka turns to follow his gaze, and climbing up the stairs slowly is Valentina, a hand on the metal rail, the white fur coat hanging down her back as it drapes from her elbows, lipstick blood red. She’s drunk, giggling to herself but stops when a vor blocks the final step onto the deck. Then, she sobers, straightening instantly with narrowed eyes.
“Asahi,” she says, voice sharp but breathless.
“The Boss is in a meeting.”
Her makeup had been fixed, the tips of her nose and ears pink from the chill, her hair no longer pinned up but wild down her back from the wind. Tanaka glances at Daichi, his eyes muddy and lips tightly pursed.
“Oh, let her join, huh?” Kuroo grins, setting his glass down and leaning forward to interlock his fingers and rest his elbows on his knees. “Surely, you trust her enough.”
“Of course.”
Daichi and his guest battle in their stares, but ultimately the Panther wins. With a sigh, Daichi calls out to Alexei, “let her through.”
Valentina strides over to the men, coat dragging on the floor behind her. Surprising everyone, she stops in front of the cocky bastard, who stands to greet her, and their cheeks brush twice, left then right.
“Kuroo, how lovely to see you again. I hope my husband is kind.”
Tanaka holds back a wince, the feeling of her warm breath against his neck still teasing him in his memories. He has to admire her acting, even inebriated, she commands attention. Their eyes follow when she walks to the head of the table and flops down onto the chair, slit falling open with crossed legs.
“He’ll be kinder now that you are here.”
Valentina laughs, “yes, but I might not be.”
“Enough.” Daichi cuts through the jovial small talk, fists clenching and resting on his knees, his back straight. “I am tired of games.”
Tanaka thinks he catches a double meaning, heart racing as he readies himself for anything.
“You own Casinos,” Kuroo drawls, but he’s no longer smiling, still standing. Daichi gets to his feet, shorter than his counterpart, but thicker.
“We are getting nowhere. I will not be included in your battle for control, and if my next shipment continues to be held, God is not the only one that can turn water into wine. Capisci?”
Their stares are intense, and seconds tick by in eternity, before Kuroo nods with a sigh, a hand tucking into his pants pocket while the other extrends. They shake, curt and stiff, and Tanaka rolls his shoulders, loosening the knots in his upper back, eyeing Valentina curiously. She has her eyes focused on Daichi, pupils narrow and mouth pressed into a thin line; the same look she had when she boarded the yacht. She snaps out of it, lips curling up as she stands.
“It was a pleasure, although short,” Kuroo tells her, and they exchange polite kisses. Tanaka hears the rumble in Daichi’s chest, and he briefly wonders if she’s purposefully trying to anger the Bulldog. She’s always been unafraid of his bark, a viper teasing with her fangs.
They wait until Kuroo climbs back in the helicopter, until the blades whir to life with that beating drum that pumps adrenaline through his body and until it is quiet once more, the waves sloshing far below against the yacht. The air is crisp, and the silence heavy. Valentina turns to face Daichi, neck tense, mouth open but Daichi cuts her off.
“Don’t embarrass me like that again.”
Tanaka bristles, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. He controls the need to step in front of Val, to shield her from his Boss. The weight of her necklace in his pocket keeps him anchored. His heart pounds in his ears, Daichi glances at him briefly before keeping an unwavering eye on Valentina’s fierce gaze. It’s odd. Tanaka always has a plan, knows what will happen next, and yet, he is at a loss. Unsteady on his feet as the boat rocks. He’s unsure of what she will do, how she will tell her possessive husband–
“I’m seeing someone.”
11. Valentina
Lightning flashes in the distance when the words leave your lips, the thunder rumbling in the silence that follows. You watch Daichi carefully, standing your ground even though parts of you scream to take a few steps back. You resist the temptation to glance at Ryunoslav. During your musings, you decided not to say who it was right away. Daichi glances down at your bare neck, the necklace he’d given you missing, lost somewhere at the gala when you finally lost yourself in emotion. You remember the fight with him when leaving the venue.
You expected Daichi to burst in anger, explode outwards and destroy everything with his fury. Yet he remains silent, eyes mattifying as he draws inward, no longer oiled mahogany but rather sanded wood. When he speaks, it’s so low you almost miss it, but it penetrates you with the next flash of lightning.
“Leave.”
White, hot anger burns through you at his command, your hands raising as though to grab his lapel. Quickly, you reroute to pulling your fur coat back onto your shoulders.
“You don’t want to know who?”
“You don’t want to know what I am thinking right now, Gadyuka.”
You open your mouth to respond, but Ryunoslav cuts you off, “take the boat, please.”
You stare incredulously at him, but he is already speaking in a low voice onto a handheld receiver, then back at Daichi, who’s body slowly begins to vibrate. However, Daichi is no longer looking at you. Instead, his eyes have shifted to Ryu, brows furrowed. Thunder claps. You feel the first spray of rain misting onto your eyelashes.
“Fine, we will talk more at breakfast.”
You turn on your heel, the sound grating against the wooden deck, and someone from the Brigade accompanies you down the stairs, walking just slightly ahead of you, silently asking you to follow.
You descend slowly, crossing the second deck with a practised smile, apologising to anyone that approaches you with an easy lie. Most of the crewmen begin to pack up and rearrange the party to continue on indoors. You enter the large cabin, and walk down another flight of stairs, to the first deck and then lower still. Here, the walls change from luxurious wooden, glass and metal to open beams, and white gritty flooring. It’s slightly wet, from the rain that batters against the open exit and the ocean water shimmering inside.
A small speedboat waits for you, not fully submerged, and a captain, yet his face is wary.
“Mrs. Sawamurova,” he holds his hat in his hands, a navy raincoat wrapped around his uniform, “wouldn’t you rather wait for the storm to pass? Please, enjoy the evening and when the water is still, I can take you to shore in an instant.”
“My husband wants me gone.”
“But not dead.”
You laugh, bitterly, feeling your intestines swirl, unsettled by those words. He’s brave.
“How long do you think it will take?”
“A few minutes, maximum. It is the winter rain, harsh but quick.”
“I will wait here.”
12. Tanaka
When the top of Valentina’s head disappears down the stairs, Daichi speaks, not looking at Tanaka. The first of fat raindrops begin to fall onto their shoulders.
“I will have to talk to her father, after I kill her.”
Tanaka’s tongue is heavy in his mouth, every bump dry and scratching against his throat. He can’t be serious. Slowly, Daichi turns to face him, eyes raking over his closest subordinate’s features, down his throat, and settles on the crisp white collar peeking out from his suit jacket, stained the same colour as Valentina’s lipstick.
“Khazak, who is it?”
“Boss–” but he doesn’t know what to say. The memories of the prison hospital bed, bare with just a sheet, an unsterilised IV drip stuck into his arm flashes in front of his mind. Daichi’s calm face that visited him before he woke up somewhere else.
“Tell me right now, or does your loyalty mean nothing?”
Tanaka winces, “nyet, Boss, you know I am loyal to you.”
He takes a deep breath, then reaches inside, fingers looping around diamonds to pull out the necklace, the viper head swaying back and forth. His heart claps with the thunder, the clouds breaking into a heavy downpour. Chill sets in instantly, his bones freezing beneath his suit.
“Supply snakes with a meal, and you will have them all by the fangs,” Daichi whispers under his breath, barely audible above the pattering of the drops against the floor, but Tanaka’s sensitive ears pick it up. “She played me for a fool.” Daichi’s wide-set eyes lift from the necklace to Tanaka’s.
“Mne ochyn zhal,” Tanaka begins to apologise profusely, but the hardened look shuts him up.
“I was wrong, Khazak,” Daichi interrupts, his hands moving to his pockets, Tanaka dropping his arm to his side. He starts to walk towards the sheltered area of the deck, withdrawing a pack of cigarettes. “You are the one that is going to have to kill her.”
Tanaka’s heart drops to his stomach, falling straight into the floor and sinking to the bottom of the unruly ocean. The Boss does not joke around, but he wishes for it to be one.
“I can not, Boss,” his head shakes, body vibrates. This is the first time he has ever refused an order from Daichi. The Bulldog watches with raised eyebrows, the question evident on his face.
“I am in love with her.”
The bark that erupts from Daichi’s throat echoes above the rain, above the thunder, and shatters inside Tanaka’s heart. He holds the cigarette to his lips, and Tanaka feels the rain drip down the rivulets of his shaved hair and under the collar of his suit and shirt. There’s a flicker of orange as the Marlboro tip glows.
“And you think she loves you back? Valentina is a snake, a woman. They know only two things: how to lie and how to fuck. You have fucked her, da? It’s magnificent. Was she the second whore of that weekend? Or was she first as well? How long have you been fucking my wife, Ryunoslav?”
Tanaka wants to answer, but it catches in his throat. His tongue refuses to mould the shapes, his lungs refuse to exhale the sound. Daichi sighs.
“It does not matter. Only one thing matters. Come.”
Tanaka walks towards Daichi, each step kicking water down his shoes, his socks wet. He’s never felt more like the ocean than now, swallowed by the rain, drowning. He stops when he stands under the partition, Daichi’s large hands cupping themselves under Tanaka’s chin to lift his head slightly, wiping the rain from his skin, the gold rings cold against his jaw. There may have been tears but Tanaka can’t tell, numb and expectant of Daichi’s next words,
“Tell me, do you love her more than me?”
Cigarette smoke tickles Tanaka’s nose, and he holds his breath. Without him, Tanaka would be dead. Daichi knows this, Tanaka knows this.
“I owe you my life, Pakhan.”
“Now, you owe me a life. I am not without mercy. You have been the closest brother to me. You have tasted the sweet fruit of sin, I can not blame you. You know I have done it too. But I am expected to sleep with someone else. She has embarrassed me. I can not have that. A Boss that can not keep his woman in line? No one will respect me, her own father will not respect me.”
Tanaka remembers the conversation in the banya, the plans to take over completely, the poor health Valentina’s old man is in.
“Are you loyal, or are you just another predatel, scum like the men you erase from existence?”
The storm in Tanaka’s eyes swirl around, clashing against the hard forest floor of Daichi’s. He is loyal. Strangely, in this moment, he remembers the lilies of his home, and their sweet, comforting fragrance, his mother making dinner, and his sister who ran with him to their new life before separating. The pain of losing her no longer stabs at him, maybe this pain someday will not either.
13. Valentina
The room is white and grey, the smell of oil and rubber and metal and salt clinging to the air, to your skin. All the alcohol consumed over the evening seeps from your pores, creating a pounding in your head. You begin to wonder if it was ever a good idea to tell Daichi. You wonder what happened when you left, and you wonder where your necklace is. Your fingers brush over your sternum, feeling the ghost of the viper head and of Tanaka’s mouth.
You taptaptap your toes against the floor, the rain echoing in time, the water drawing in and out rhythmically as you wait for the storm to pass. Only a few minutes, you were told.
“Few minutes, my ass.”
The walkie-talkie connected to the captain’s hip shocks to life, and broken Russian floats up, but you can’t make out the words. He answers, smiles at you, “please, wait here. I will be back soon.”
Then, he leaves, and you’re left alone with the brat that accompanied you. He sighs heavily, as though the inconvenience to him is all your doing, and you glare.
“Is there a problem, soldier?” you ask, standing straight, arms crossed in front of your chest. They seem to forget, Daichi married into your family, not the other way around.
“Nyet, Gadyuka, prosti,” he apologises quickly.
Silence settles over the hull again, claustrophobia leaching into your veins. If you look out at the open hatch, you can see inky blackness, and far in the distance, the faint yellow lights of Monte Carlo. You are about to ask for some water when footsteps echo against the metal walls, a familiar gait.
“Leave us, pazolvste.”
Ryunoslav says to his subordinate, who swiftly salutes him and walks up the stairs. The door at the top clicks shut. You’re speechless, and he is sopping wet.
“Ryu,” you whisper, walking towards him and draping your arms around his shoulders, uncaring at the feeling of water pressing into the fabric of your dress, dripping between the open gap of your breasts. He’s stiff when you touch him, but soon melts, nose nuzzling into your neck and breathing deeply. He still smells like crisp apple and fresh seawater.
“Why are you here?”
“Daichi knows.”
You’ve never felt colder, warmer, like a fever and frostbite all at once. You feel him rustle against your bodies, and you let go to watch him pull the Bulgari necklace out, lifting your hand to place it in your palm. Your fingers close around the jewels automatically.
“I told him I love you.”
There are no words that come to your mind in that instant. Emotions, many. Relief, nausea, stillness and rage, love for the man in front of you. You ache to feel his warm, corded muscles against your skin. He looks pained, eyes tormented as he looks into your soul.
“How did he react?”
“Not well.”
“And?”
He gives no space for continuation, pulling you tightly against his body, arms snaking around your waist as his lips fall against your mouth. His skin is cool, wet, pressing to your heated cheeks, but his mouth is inviting. There is passion unlike what you’ve experienced before. It tastes like freedom, like a new day and endless night. It’s the smoke on the fire, and the salt of the sea. He’s crying, you realise, and you open your mouth to lick up a tear on the corner of his mouth.
The necklace slips from your fingers when you grab him, pushing the jacket of his suit from his shoulders to drop to the already wet floor. There’s a faint crunch, but neither one of you pull away to look at the crushed jewel beneath your heel. It’s just so right to kiss him. In this moment, the world falls away and it’s just the two of you. His taste fills you with a feeling that rivals being whole, satiated. Something hard pokes against your hip, and you smile into the kiss, lips moving to his jaw to suck on an earlobe.
But you freeze. Daichi is at the top of the stairs.
“I’m sorry,” Ryunoslav whispers.
You frown, his words not registering and when you pull back to ask what is happening, he ensnares another kiss from you, tears flowing freely, something hard, cold, now presses against your temple and–
.
.
.
End.
-----
Thank you for reading, truly. This fic honestly has so much of my heart and soul in it. I had so much fun writing it. I hope you’re not too mad about the ending lmao.
@dee-madwriter , @pleasantanathema , @lookslikeleese , @linestrider , @hisoknen , @mindninjax , @whats-her-quirk , @messwriting
#the smut pile collab#tanaka x reader#tanaka#tanaka ryu#daichi x reader#toska#2.2#russia mafia#mafia au#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu#tanaka ryunnosuke#tanaka ryunosuke#saeko#hq#mafia au tanaka#mafia tanaka#tw cheating#tw manipulation#tw death#kuroo
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adventure time wizard city liveblog
well here we go
my last adventure time liveblog, i havent actually done one of these in MANY years... probably not since 2014
this takes place at the same time as obsidian?
DID-- DID CHOOSE GOOSE JUST DIE
DID BUFO JUST KILL CHOOSE GOOSE
yeah i know that’s bufo, they only made it enormously obvious, tsk tsk
@spaceacepearl joked about us seeing choose goose get sent to hell but i diDNT EXPECT IT TO HAPPEN
This music is i assume by one of the many musical artists Adam Muto listed on twitter, it rocks. It’s not as hardcore as Obsidian’s intro, but it’s suitably chill for the scene.
“get offa my bus kid”
Those wizards in the left and far right groups appear to be new!
OH MY GOD--
HELP?????? NEW PROFILE PIC TIME
HAHAHAHAH
THE MUSICAL CON DID ME GOOD, I DID REALLY LOUD AUDIBLE LAUGHTER
i bet hanna and co had fun making these signs
my favourite is the cat with “FAMILIARS HAVE RIGHTS”
cadorka..... wow
We’re not even four minutes into the ep and peppermint butler has already killed someone in front of a large group of witnesses
“this smells of DARK MAGIC”
“yall kids know thats illegal right”
peps watches the other kids nod before later joining in, LOL
i cant believe pep started the great gum wars and got killed by golb
SOMEONE has been playing Overwatch...
i-- i still cant believe choose goose is fucking dead
how long was he stuck in hell for, or was that recent to together again after new death showed up
i have to admit im not a big fan of spader, too perfect, and not in that funny way either. i hope they give him some characteristics that make him stand out.
im getting flashbacks to OK KO and Owl House here...
Cadebra using music is a reference to Abracadaniel’s love of interpretetive dance in Play Date.
“they only laugh because youre different”
“i know”
“SO STOP BEING DIFFERENT”
oh my god it’s like talking to my own parents
cadebra is actually... a LOT like me, less in her hyperactivity but more in her nonchalant enthusiasm and almost acceptance of the inevitable bullying because it means more time in people’s consciousness
ahhh - it’s quietly revealed here that she is responsible and a skilled magician, she is just bored of magic! i like that she parents abracadaniel instead of being downtrodden by his ramblings.
PEP NO--- oh i see the problem, he hasn’t got his Bug Milk... sorry Martin Olsen fans, no Hunson today. At least we get one more Phil Face for the road!
candy people in their natural habitat
Ahhh that’s Doctor Calidoneus! The voice actor was at the recent Distant Lands panel alongside Pep and Blaine’s actors.
“pretty sure hes just trashcandy” - i like you, sassy antler lady
the mystery of how he gets clothes
and once again spader is proving to be the most irritating distant lands character of the lot, there is no subversion here. where is the subversion?
NANI
what is going on here? are pep and peppermint the same person or not? im sure they must be, but there is something going on here with peppermint butler’s soul being trapped in the body of his child self who hasn’t got the same memories.
OH, HYNDEN WALCH DID A NEW LINE yes this is what im here for, special over
peppermint butler cursed himself... of course he did - Shado was correct!!!
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA WHAT THE FUCK
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA WHAT THE FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK
ROCK STUDENT, BLESSED ROCK STUDENT, WAS THAT POOR GUY WHO LOOKS LIKE A JAWBREAKER
love the reference to astral plane, of course pep cant astrally project because cursed pep is still inside of him
wow, blaine, wow
they have a crush
LITTLE DUDE! COLE SANCHEZ!
i love the dynamic between cadebra and abracadaniel, imo so far it’s the heart of the special. im not really gripped by peppermint butler’s school troubles. i imagine someone else probably will be but i want to run past that shit as far as possible.
TRDGFYGHJH
WE
WE MADE A PREDICTION THAT WAS JUST LIKE THIS
PEPPERMINT BUTLER GETTING TURNED INTO THE FOUR COMPONENTS OF PEPPER MINT BUTT LURE WAS IN THE WIZARD CITY PREDICTIONS ART DRAW THAT HASNT BEEN POSTED YET
ILL SHOW YOU WHEN NICK POSTS THE VIDEO and then ill tell you who made the prediction because i... think it was nick himself, insanity
who plagiarized finn’s signature???
turns out pep really DID take over wizard city!!!!
i love this band
i understand your pain peps
you probably have a bit too much in common with your mother, and i imagine it isn’t easy being turned into a kid and not being able to do stuff that came so easy. you’re disappointing yourself! (he’s literally disappointing himself)
I’m less than halfway through the special, what the fuck. I wasn’t wrong when I said Wizard City had a lot on its plate. It’s noit that I’ve been particularly gripped up to this point, though to be fair I didn’t pause at all during the other specials barring Obsidian.
that... that poor kid is still a rock
and then the preview happened and bufo casually revealed to the audience that, yes, he killed choose goose
i dont know whats happening with pep but it seems he needs to be exorcised of... pep. which is a shame. i hope they learn to coexist.
i have to say the background work in this special is really good! like, really damn good.
WH
WHAT
DID SPADER JUST DIE
IS THIS WHY PEOPLE THINK PEPBUT KILLED HIM
oh thats right - abracadaniel is cadebra’s uncle! this must be abracadniels sister. sorry, folks, he doesn’t fuck.
Where are they? Is this anywhere near Wizard City? It’s an unpopulated prewar wasteland.
THESE ARE JUST HUMANS
OF COURSE SHE WANTS TO PERFORM TO MILQUETOAST HUMANS
my child
is this an art style choice or did they get the people from that one studio to make this
HANNA FINALLY GETS TO FULFIL HER DREAM OF INSERTING KANEDA INTO ADVENTURE TIME
the red jacket he wears and his head pill shape is a big kaneda reference actually, which i suppose makes sense considering he’s a rival to our protagonist, but it’s a bit on the nose
bufo killed one of his own students? but why????
“MY UNCLE’S A COP”
“no one likes a rat”
i actually really like blaine, though im confused. did their VA change halfway through the special?
HOW NATURAL, NO WASTE, IT IS AN ENDLESS CHAIN
did doctor caledonius steal the trophy,,,?
EVIL SNAIL EVIL SNAIL
MONMSTER HUNJTER DISCOVERY NOISE, this time it’s a tetsucabra
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
I HAVE QUESTIONS
god i wish this is what this special was about, i miss adventure time
these remind me of the comics with their art style :) i wonder who designed them? the one on the right with pb and pep, in particular, very comics-y.
fdgfhgf because he’s like 500
“pep can be kind of a jerk but he wouldn’t kill anyone”
sorry, cadebra, i have news for you
is doctor calednoius the true villain? if bufo’s out of the picture, she MUST be,
ANTS
oh no, he might gbe stuck in wizard city :(
HELP
the writing on the wall...
SPADER LITERALLY FUCKING DIED OH YM JESUS CHRIST
PEPPERMINT BUTLER’S OWN CULT????
THIS IS JUST OK KO NOW
okay im not surprised all the teachers at wizard city are cultists in worship of peps, maybe they killed spader and bufo because they bullied peps T_T
wait no, they thought spader had the potential, but sadly not
HE FUCKING KILLED HIMSELF
sorry, i was distracted by the pretty dope fight sequence and now the special is over????
fucking jesse, hes probably at least partly responsible for the cult nonsense
This credits art is by Maya Petersen!!!! Holy shit it’s adorable!
LRETGFDRGTFGMHGFHFG
LEAF MAN
DO YOU THINK THEY PUT HIM IN RETROSPECTIVELY
DO YOU THINK MAYA PETERSEN DREW THIS AND ADAM PUT IT IN THE EP RETROSPECTIVELY
HE LIVES
MAYBE THIS IS WHY CHOOSE GOOSE WENT TO HELL
okay, it’s over :)
first thoughts out of the way: not a big fan of this special. it’s like watching a completely different show. it’s not got the PZSHAHH of the normal wizard city stuff and there weren’t a lot of funny jokes or even hearty moments in the thing.
it suffers from a lack of invested character interactions, much like BMO did. there was not a single main cast member in the whole thing! and like i said before, much of peppermint butler’s character in the show is based on his very sweet relationship to his mother, princess bubblegum, so when they showed a single (hilarious) photo of them together it made me sad we didn’t get any scenes with them together. it would have STOLEN this episode. and they teased the hunson golf photo, and death!!! and jake appeared in a photo T_T last jake appearance.
it also suffers because Peppermint Butler is clearly not himself, imo he was way more entertaining in the Together Again special, where we seem him back to his “normal” self.
i dont think peps being a dark wizard was something to “kill off” exactly. i wonder what was going on there? was that actually peps, or was that a spirit he cursed himself with based on himself? we at least know in the future he does become a dark wizard again, and even princess :) this special didn’t answer those questions but lol.
THE GOOD STUFF, because yes, there was a lot of good stuff!
God, I’m with Aracle and Maya on this - I LOVE Cadebra and her relationship to Pep. I wish she was even in more of this - I would love to watch the adventures of Cadebra and Pepbut in their first year of school, like in the end credits.
That, imo, is where the heart of the special lay - Peppermint Butler’s attempts to impress himself, versus Cadebra’s self acceptance and desire to follow her dreams of being a goofy goober, no matter what other people thought of her.
It turned out that Cadebra is a responsible student and family member. I really liked that. Her scenes with Abracadaniel were, somehow, my favourite in the entire special!
I like that theres a lot of cool magic towards the end of this special, and a lot of HORRIFYING DEATH. It wouldn’t be adventure time if you didn’t randomly kill off child characters. Poor Spader, I hated you but damn, what a grim fate.
I like that Bufo and Caledonius had this crush/hatred thing going on, but they were part of the same cult in the end.
I didn’t like the giant peps scene at the end, the monster was extremely milquetoast compared to the madness we usually get in AT. Obsidian, for example, had the awesome Larvo design. Nemesis had some INSANE dark magic!!!! I wish they drew more from that episode.
Considering how much Steve Little appears in this special, I do feel bad for Mace (little Peps). He said he would have really benefitted from coaching, but recieved none. He had to re-record his lines 3 times! Judging from his description of events, Wizard City was a hard time for him.
The wizard school did remind me, heavily, of both The Owl House and OK KO. Personally I was hoping AT would offer me something more insane, but I do love both of those shows, and I know Wizard City was on a really tight schedule.
I think they should have spent less time on the school bullying plot, and skipped straight to MURDER.
We did have a cold opening, not on par with Together Again’s at all, but damn!
I am wondering where I would put this in the watch list? I do think it should sit after Obsidian as the third special. The intro scene makes it clear this takes place at the same time as Obsidian!!!
Well, that was it, the last ep of AT for the next few years at least T_T
i think together again was the better finale, definitely. but wizard city feels pretty detached from AT for me, despite the familiar characters it tonally isn’t like the show other than the awesome brutal death scenes. I thought the last 11 minutes was easily the best in the special! Which, honestly, is how it should be, though I do wish it gripped me more. Maybe I’m just not the target audience for Wizard City? It feels like something I would find very compelling if I was a bit younger!
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