#our asses would be back home in third world countries right now and yet

[samwilsonshandsandass]

I Think I'm Seeing Triple

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Sam Wilson x Sam Wilson x reader x Bucky Barnes x Bucky Barnes x Bucky Barnes Summary: You just want to get settled in in your hotel room for a weekend conference, when your room is also given to two other attendees of the conference. And then something happens no one can explain and four surprise guests are also in the room Warnings: Smut, oral (f and m receiving), spanking, choking Word count: 3240 A/N: @keanureevesisbae were suffering together because of a post with four pictures each of Anthony Mackie and Sebastian Stan and then I had a thought and got some inspiration.

You went up to your hotel room after the first getting to know each other event at the weekend conference you had to go to. You hadn’t even put your shoes near the door when it opened and in came two other attendees. You knew who they were, had seen them all over the newspapers and also columns. Sam Wilson aka Cap and Bucky Barnes aka… he wasn’t the Winter Soldier anymore and you didn’t know if he wanted to claim that title to morph it into something good or if he was called something else. So, Bucky Barnes.

Before you could ask them what they did in your room, and how they got a key card when it was clearly booked, and before they stopped their bickering about who was the blanket hog, there were two flashes of golden light and from each flash tumbled a pair of men identical to the pair of men who just walked into your room. Just their clothing separated them from each other.

“Who are you?”

Sam Wilson asked and looked at someone who seemed to be his friend. Although that friend had entered the room beside him.

“I’m Bucky” The one spoken to, said.

“No, I’m Bucky!” A third version of the man said.

“And you?” The one who seemed to be the actual Sam, wanted to know.

“Sam.”

“Who am I then?”

“My less attractive twin?”

“Ha-ha.”

“So, There’s three Sams. And three Buckys. That’s not weirder than other things we were confronted with. And you are?” The Bucky who had entered the room with the first Sam questioned and looked at you.

“Y/N” You answered slowly. “And why are all of you in my hotel room?”

“We’re here because the person at the reception told us this room was available. We’re last minute additions to this weekend conference” That was one of the Buckys. He gestured to himself and one of the Sams.

“O- kay. And you four?” You looked at the seemingly identical versions of the Sam and Bucky who were supposed to be here.

“There was a flash, everything went cold and now we’re here” The third Bucky replied.

“We had something similar happening” The Sam in the middle said.

“Alright. Okay. Cool. I’ll just be blunt and say I wouldn’t have been opposed to one Sam and Bucky being in the same room for an entire weekend” You mumbled after you looked shortly to the heavens.

“You do know we’re supposed to actually attend meetings and workshops and networking events, don’t you?” The Bucky you dubbed “Bucky number one” asked you.

“Stickler for principles…” Sam number one grinned. “I know you. You’d do anything to get out of at least the networking events.”

“Of course I would! Still doesn’t change the fact networking just means getting drunk and fucking someone just for the sake of fucking someone. I’m not for that. And I can’t get drunk.”

You saw the other two Bucky’s nod in agreement.

“So, that’s the defining trait of the different Bucky’s” Sam number two smiled.

“As if you like what comes out of these events” Bucky (you couldn’t say which) grinned back.

“No, I’d cook for someone first. Be a gentleman.”

“See. And I’d take her dancing.”

You cleared your throat.

“I still don’t understand all this” You stated.

“Me neither” Bucky number three. “Maybe we could each explain the basics of yourselves.”

“Good idea. So. In this universe, my universe, you” You sat back on the bed and pointed at Sam number one, “were a para rescue and then used what you learned during that time to save the world. And you” You looked down at Bucky number one who was laying on your belly, “were a P.O.W. during World War II and then basically got turned into a human weapon and got frozen to keep your body the way they needed it to be. You were found and then, a year later in probably the technologically most advanced country on earth you finally got freed for good from it all and now use your skills for good as well. With him as your partner.” You pointed at Sam number one again.

“Wait. You had a second World War? We only had one. You know, the one from 1914 to 1918?” Bucky number two asked. “What happened in your universe?”

“The Germans thought the cure for their humiliation in Versailles could only be coped with by committing genocide and reaching for world domination.” Bucky number one explained. “And my best friend got quite big and muscle-y because of that. Why didn’t the Germans do in your universe what they did in mine?”

“Some Germans had their heads on straight. Fought back when the political landscape of 1920s Germany was close to morphing into street terror and they succeeded. They stayed a democratic country and that was that.”

“My Steve got all the muscles as well.” Bucky number three smiled. Then it fell from his face. “We actually served together, after he changed like that. When the Germans and their allies were defeated, Steve went on to train new recruits back home and I went to Korea.”

“So, you aged normally. How come you’re here now with a body like back then? And why are you also looking like that, when there even wasn’t a second world war and in theory you should’ve lived a long live and, no offence, be long underground?” You wondered and looked between Bucky number two and three.

Bucky number two snorted. “I know what you mean. After school, I actually got a scholarship, one of the few back then, for Teachers College, which is a part of Columbia University. I became a Math and Physics teacher. After some years, the university offered a few places in an experimental study about nitrogen and cryogenesis.”

“And I suspect you accepted one?” Sam number three asked.

“Yep. Wanted to see what progress the future made in science and to have the body and age and mind to enjoy it all fully.”

“That takes being a nerd to a whole new level. I thought the Bucky I know was flexing!” Sam number one exclaimed.

“Just because I could read the Hobbit when it came out and you couldn’t?” Bucky number one shot back.

“You read that, too?” Bucky number two and three exclaimed.

“No matter the universe, they’re nerds” Sam number two mumbled.

“And you two? What happened with you in your universes?” You looked at Sam number two and three.

“My and Sarah’s parents died quite a few years ago. My nephews were little, and yet, I thought I’d help my family more if I went off to the air force. Sarah wouldn’t have that and then the community got wind of my plans and they kept me there” Sam number two smiled. “I took over more of the workload to keep our fishing business afloat so Sarah could focus more on the kids when they were really little. When they got bigger, we shared the workload more equally and still do that now. Haven’t regretted not moving away one day.”

“I also didn’t move away. Well, not entirely to Washington, after our parents died. I worked my ass off to get into an undergraduate program for social work and now I’m working as a counselor for families in tight spots in St. Bernard” Sam number three told.

“Okay. This is quite much, but I can work with that. Or at least understand more. Want to know something about me?” You looked around at the six men around you.

“Isn’t that confusing for you?” Bucky wanted to know.

“On every level, yes. So, I’ll just concentrate on the fact there’s six handsome and hot guys and just one of me.”

“That’s certainly something” Sam smiled.

“Yeah” You laughed quietly and took his hand.

You felt him stroke the back of your hand and move towards you. With a half smile and half lidded eyes, he pecked your lips. He moved back slowly. You cradled his head in your hand and pulled him in again, scratching his head all the while and earning a moan. You moved your lips against Sam’s, sucking his tongue into your mouth. He chuckled against your lips and moved back again. This time just enough to be able to bite your lips and then move his tongue against your lips again.

When he allowed you to breathe, another Sam asked: “You gonna hog her all for yourself or let us have a piece, too?”

“As if I’d deny myself the joy and pleasure of all of you…” You simpered.

“Well then” He pulled you up to stand and walked you to the middle of the big, fluffy rug in front of the bed.

Sam stood in front of you. With a faint smile, he unbuttoned button for button on the top of your dress. At the same time Bucky knelt behind you and let his hands wander from your ankles to the hem of your panties. He pulled them down slowly, until they caught on the hem of your stockings. Bucky pulled them down as well and put them on the ever growing pile of clothes near the foot of the bed.

“Would you look at this body!” Came from the direction of the bed, where the other two Buckys sat when the Sam before you let your dress fall from your body.

“God” That drawn out moan came from the loveseat with two Sams on it.

You smiled and opened your eyes, looking around to see the four men naked and teasingly stroke their cocks.

“C’mere baby” Sam purred.

The two men who had just undressed you went over to the bed. You stood in front of the loveseat.

“And where am I sitting?”

“Laying” Sam smiled and pulled you down.

Your torso laid across the legs of the Sam sitting left and your thighs across the Sam on the right. You wiggled your ass jokingly until you felt a gentle spank on the right cheek.

“We’ll be the ones to make you move, baby. You just relax and take it” Bucky said from the bed. You had no idea which one.

“Although that doesn’t mean we’ll be soft” Another Bucky said. You could hear the smile in his voice.

“I don’t think she wants us to be soft. Well, maybe a little?” The Sam who had your torso laying on his legs, questioned.

You looked up at him and opened your mouth to answer but before you could, he slipped two fingers into it. His other hand wandered to the nape of your neck. He started massaging it, and with a guttural moan, you spread your legs.

The Sam with your legs on his thighs now kneaded your butt, lulling you into a sense of security and comfort.

Then came the first spank. Pretty light, on the left butt cheek. You squeaked in surprise.

Before you could say anything, he landed a slightly harder spank on the right one. You whimpered.

The third spank was even harder, on the left cheek again.

The fourth spank made your ass cheek jiggle and yourself moan.

Sam continued in that tempo and alternated the cheeks with every other spank. The other Sam moved his fingers in and out of your mouth at a different pace, not giving you a chance to get used to just one rhythm.

From the couch pants and moans could be heard. Sam didn’t let you move your head, squeezing instead of massaging your neck each time you wanted to look in the direction of the bed.

“No looking, baby. You just feel and hear.”

You nodded as best as you could and felt a visceral need in your core. You tried to alleviate it, humping the side of Sam’s thigh.

“You need something more, baby?”

You mumbled around the other Sam’s fingers.

“I’d say that’s a yes” The Bucky in the middle of the bed grinned.

“C’mere baby.” Both Sam’s helped you up and got you in front of the bed.

You looked up at Bucky and he petted your cheek.

“Ready?”

You nodded and knelt in front of Bucky and another Bucky pushed your head down to make you take everything until you gagged. They both gave you short periods of reprieve when one of them pulled a little back until they made you gag again. With each gagging noise you made, you felt yourself getting wetter.

Suddenly you felt the tip of a cock between your ass cheeks. With a sigh, a sigh as if he came home, the man behind you penetrated you slowly, making you feel every inch. Bucky pushed you down quickly. The pace made your eyes water and a tear fall but that didn’t keep you from recognizing that beautiful brown skin in the corner of your left eye.

“We’re so good, we make you cry?” Sam grinned, showing his canines.

You nodded once when you heard a growl above you. Suddenly your mouth was empty and not a second later long ropes of cum hit your face.

You opened your eyes just in time to see Sam’s hand rubbing your clit as he pulled your back close to his chest. You felt the warmth of his chest and his accelerated heartbeat at your back. He bent forward to caress your neck. Sam kissed your neck and bit every spot he had just caressed. You bucked against him, trying to get him moving deeper into you. You felt him smile against your neck where he had just sucked. He pressed his index and middle finger to your clit. He tapped it and with two further movements, you felt him squeeze your neck and with a long whine you came.

You wrapped your hands around Sam’s left wrist and that did it for him. You felt him spurt into your core and your legs trembled a little with the aftershocks.

“God…” He moaned into your neck and kissed it.

“J- just me” You mumbled in a haze with a grin.

You heard several chuckles from the bed. Someone pulled you slowly up and put you on the bed. Several people stroked your body and kissed you softly. You, in turn, caressed Sam’s face and could almost hear him purr under your touch.

When you felt like you were in the here and now again, you laid on back on the bed, the head in the lap of one Bucky with one Sam kissing the life out of you. He had his hand wrapped around your throat and squeezed now and then. You were moaning and whimpering continuously but you didn’t know why exactly. Maybe it was because Bucky massaged your head. Maybe it was because Sam choked and kissed you so beautifully.

And maybe it was because what happened between your legs. Looking down your body, spread out like a feast, you saw one brown haired head. Two strains had escaped the low bun and stuck to his face with his spit and your slick. Next to Bucky, there was Sam. This was the Sam with longer curls. Perfect to rake your fingers through and pull him even closer to you.

Both of them licked, nibbled and sucked on your private parts and on the tighter rim a little below. Occasionally they bumped heads and shoulders, chuckling each time. Each chuckle sent vibrations through you and made you pull their hair. Every time you did that, they moaned. Even more vibrations went to your clit. A vicious cycle.

Until they stopped everything.

Although you wanted to form words of protest, nothing articulated came out of your mouth.

You saw the two grinning at each other and they rammed three fingers each in you. Three in your pussy and three in your ass. You could only moan and your back arched up.

Bucky attacked your g spot right away and Sam hammered into your ass. With the contrast of that to the kissing of the other Sam and the head massage by the other Bucky, you couldn’t focus on anything, just letting it happen. Out of the blue, you sensed something warm and wet and occasionally sharp on your nipples and your neck. You could only guess that was because of the other two.

With one more come hither motion of Bucky, you screamed into Sam’s mouth and came. You felt your walls spasm and spasm and spasm. Yet, Bucky didn’t stop. Each time your pussy let up, there was another come hither motion and Sam hadn’t stopped fingering your ass once.

Sam and Bucky bit your nipples until they were swollen and the Sam who still had his hand around your neck, squeezed.

Your body, that hadn’t ceased moving since your scream, spasmed as a whole and then everything went black.

---

As you came to again, one pair of Sam and Bucky were grinning up at you and two pairs were grinning down at you.

“There she is again” Bucky smiled.

“I take it you’re satisfied?” Another Bucky asked you cockily.

You nodded, panting.

You were maneuvered until you laid on a mountain of pillows. From that position you could see all six men gripping their erections. Your body was sweaty, spit from six men clung to it, your face was painted with the cum from one of the Bucky’s and between your legs there was a mess of the cum of one of the Sam’s and yours. Still, you wanted more. And you knew how to get it.

You made grabby hands, decidedly close to the men’s cocks. They grinned and moved closer to you.

“Please?” You made puppy dog eyes at them.

“How can you say no to this very beautiful and very naughty girl?” One of the Sam’s mumbled to himself.

“You don’t, never!” Bucky answered and started jerking faster.

You licked your lips and sat up a bit. You didn’t want to miss one second of this show. Their hands went over their cocks, faster and faster until the six faces contorted in pleasure and you saw your belly and breasts be painted by their cum. It was accompanied by several growls and whimpers.

You smiled tiredly, when the six collapsed around you. You pulled them closer, reveling in their warmth.

“Gimme some minutes, doll” Bucky whispered into your ear.

After some time, he went and got several warm wet washcloths. He and another Bucky cleaned you up softly. Only after that, did the men clean up themselves. You turned on your side, tired and sated. Sam pulled you into his chest, Bucky molded himself to your back and put his legs over yours. The other four cuddled up to you three in the middle, making you a tangle of seven people in the middle.

“Does one of you know when the first meeting of tomorrow starts?” You yawned.

“At nine” The Bucky of this universe mumbled.”

“The cyborg strikes again” A mix of a yawn and smile was audible in his voice. “Do we have to attend that?”

“I think so.”

“Ugh. And what about the four not from here?” Sam wriggled his arm free and hugged one Bucky and one Sam to his back.

“No idea” The Sam hugged by Sam shook his head.

“Let’s sleep for now. We can worry about that tomorrow” The Bucky between the two Sam’s said.

#my things #my writing #sam wilson fanfic #sam wilson fanfiction #sam wilson x reader insert #sam wilson x y/n #sam wilson x you #sam wilson x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader insert #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #sam wilson smut #bucky barnes smut #captain america fanfic #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captan america x reader insert #captain america x y/n #captain america x you

[probsjosh]

Just a Bit More

Three times you were out here flirting with Sapnap on stream and the fourth time when ya'll straight up confessed to eachother

AKA Flirtationship but with a lot of Mutual Pining

Sapnap × GN!Reader

No warning! All fluff :)

@svgarbees I love your writing challenge bro <3

-----------

The first time Sapnap had met you it was very briefly, as George had been placed on your team for MCC and Sapnap had come into the discord call to taunt him just before the games began. 

"Well if it isn't Team Bottoms."

The second the taunt was out in the open air, a roar of protests came from George and Antfrost. BadBoyHalo sat in some confusion, "Bottoms? Bottom of what?" was all he asked, and after he didn't receive an answer, he shrugged it off and quickly muted to talk to his chat. You, however, were practically wheezing, desperately trying to get air into your lungs as you laughed at Saps opening line, causing the other three to pause their bickering long enough to ask if you were alright. "I'm fuckin' great- I don't know who you are dude, but I think I already love you." 

Sapnap laughed lightly as his face turned a light shade of pink, "If you liked that one so much I have a lot more where that came fro—" He was cut off mid-sentence as he was kicked from the call back to his own teams vc. 

"We are not 'Team Bottoms'," George scoffed out, as the MCC timer got to zero.

"George. We totally fuckin are," You laughed out as everyone rushed inside.

"Language!" 

~

The second time had been when George invited you to play Proximity Chat Among Us on stream after realizing they didn't have 10 people to play a full game. You two had actually hit it off really well during MCC and stayed in contact afterwards, but this was the first time he had invited you to play anything with his group of friends.

After happily agreeing, you received the game code and joined the vc, only to be greeted with George desperately trying to tell everyone to shut up for just one second and Sapnap loudly arguing that George wasn't the boss of him. It was only after you'd joined the game and let out a soft, "Hello," did he shut up.

"Oh-" Was all Sap could get out before George cut him off, "Yeah 'oh', that's what I was trying to tell you. Everyone this is y/n, y/n this is everyone," 

There was a chorus of greetings as everyone welcomed you to the soon to be shitshow. The smile on your face didn't fade once the entire time, being able to properly introduce yourself and crack jokes with everyone once you were in game. The one person you weren't surprised to see you were getting along with amazingly was with Sapnap, immediately remembering him from your first unofficial meeting.

"So you think I'm a bottom Sapnap?" you questioned as you caught him in a room by himself. "I- uh- why? Are-are you a bottom?" He asked, a hesitant grin on his face, he wasn't sure what boundaries he was pushing, but he was certain he was toeing the line. Luckily for him, you let out a laugh before you teased him, "Wouldn't you like to know." Suddenly feeling more confident in himself he hummed before teasing right back, "I mean, with your consent, I would." 

Your laugh sounded out as you tried and failed to stutter out a response when someone walked into the room and yelled, "George! Sapnap is flirting with your friend!" They ran away yelling for George as Sapnap laughed and ran away,  chasing after them, "Don't snitch on me you bitch!" 

You stood there in the middle of the room giggling as Sapnap quickly ran back into the room, "If George asks, I'm totally telling him you hit on me first." 

"Okay sure, Mr. I'd Like To Find Out If You're a Bottom," You both laughed as a body was reported and you were thrown into a meeting.

From that moment it had become a running bit for you two to needlessly flirt with eachother at any given moment, and by the end of the stream every chat was filled with debates on what the ship name should be. 

After saying your goodbyes and leaving for the night, you sat in your chair thinking about Sapnap, and trying to ignore the butterflies in your tummy as you thought about every exchange you'd had with him that night. 

~

The third time had been the first time you logged on to the Dream SMP after George had very sweetly asked Dream to whitelist you, because he missed playing the Craft with someone he now considered a close friend to him. 

At first it was just George and yourself sitting in a call as he gave you a very messy tour of the world that consisted of a very bad history lessons of the lore. "I'm not very involved in the storyline so I don't really know what happened," George explains as he leads you over to the now crater of L'Manberg, "But I do know that, canonically, Dream is crazy." 

The familiar sound of someone joining the call sounded out, followed by a very familiar voice, "George, Dream is crazy both in game and out, you give him too much credit." 

There was soft laughter before you spoke, "Sapitus Napitus!" the happiness in your voice evident, and George chuckled, "What? You miss your boyfriend?" Despite how flustered you'd gotten you managed to bite back, "What? Jealous I got a boyfriend before you did, Georgie?" 

Sapnap joined in as well, "Yeah Georgie, at least we have a significant other for Valentines day. Not our fault you broke my boy Dreams heart by turning him down." 

We all laughed at that as Sapnap joined the game as well as the tour. At first, it had seemed like you and Sap had fallen back into your endless flirting to annoy George but after a while it just became a casual thing between the two of you, compliments and innuendos being tossed between the two of you.

All three of you had actually become really comfortable with one another over the course of the accidental five hour stream. So comfortable in fact that before you left to end your stream George sent you off with a final tease, "Of God, I'm never gonna hear the end of this from either of you am I?" You and Sapnap glanced at each other in game before turning to George, "What do you mean, Gogy?" Sapnap asked carefully, as he slowly scrolled through his hotbar to pull out his sword. George, oblivious to this, continued, "I mean you two blabber on and on about each other to me all the time, why don't you two just talk about how much you like each other to each o–" George cut himself off with a scream as Sapnap went after him with the intent of murder. 

Before you could fully process the words that had come out of George's mouth, you phone pinged, alerting you that you needed to end stream. "I'm sorry guys, I gotta go, I have something I need to do." Both boys stopped in their tracks to give you a proper goodbye, "Bye, message me when you're free again," George said innocently as he crouch walked away from where Sapnap stood turned towards your character. "Or you could message me–" Sap said, the cheeky smile on his face falling as George teased him again, "Yeah you wish, Snapchat." 

And with that Sapnap returned to his assassination attempt as George screamed for his life. You laughed before mumbling a goodbye and leaving both the game and the call.

After ending stream you walked over to your bed before falling face first into the mattress and screaming. 

George really had to out you like that huh?

~

The fourth time was just a couple days after the third. You had been streaming for a little bit, your first grind session on the SMP to get yourself started, when George entered your voice channel and startled the hell out of you. 

"HI y/n!" he greeted innocently as you yelped, hitting your desk and nearly spilling your water everywhere. "George! Dude, you have to stop scaring me like that," you tried to scold him but your laugh broke your angry facade. "Sorry, sorry, I hadn't meant to scare you- hey is Sapnap online right now?" 

"Um," you glanced over at your chat briefly before pressing tab, "Yeah, he's online, why?" You didn't receive an answer as George disconnected from the call abruptly. "Wow okay, rude." was all you commented before returning to entertaining your chat as you mined away. 

A couple minutes later you were startled yet again as George reconnected, immediately letting out a loud yelp, as a skeleton shot you simultaneously. "George!" you panicked as you swiped your sword at the skeleton, going down to threw hearts before finally killing it. "I'm sorry! I don't mean to scare you, I just wanted to tell you that Sa–" He disconnected again mid-sentence, this time your curiosity was peaked. 

"If George reconnects and scares me one more time, I'm flying to his country to kick his ass." You laughed as your chat began speculating what he wanted to tell you, and clipping your scared reaction.

It was peaceful for a while, you had been caving with not trouble, but eventually you ran out of food and needed to resurface. Unfortunately for you, a loud ping from Discord sounded out, distracting you long enough for a creeper to sneak up behind you and kill you before you had a chance to react. "George I'm buying a plane ticket to go kick your ass, I swear to..." a soft laugh makes you trail off. "Well, I'm not George, but I'd love to see you kick his ass," Sapnaps voice rang out and you slapped a hand over your mouth. 

"Fuck, sorry, sorry Sap, George has just been coming in and out of the vc and scaring me" You clicked respawn and began running back to your things. "Yeah, sorry about that, I kept pulling him out of there because he's trying to embarrass me." 

"Embarrass you? How?" You found the cave you had gone down and made your way to your things. 

"Well, um, he- where are you? On the server I mean." It was a bit odd to you that he was stuttering this much, he was usually very confident in himself, but you made no comment on it. 

"I'm in a cave getting my things back, I'll put my cords in chat, I'm not far from my house," You gathered your things before quickly typing into chat, and running to the mouth of the cave to get back home.

There's a beat of comfortable silence as you emerge seeing Sapnap running towards you in the distance. 

"Hi, hello!" You crouched at him once he'd gotten close enough. He giggled and answered back, "Hi," as he crouched in return. 

"So why's George trying to embarrass you?" you asked making your way back to your house, Sapnap following close behind. "He keeps saying some bullshit that I don't believe, so I've come to just- just ask you." 

Your stomach began to fill with butterflies, but you shot down your hopes and tried to keep a level voice, "Oh? What have you come to ask me, Mr. Sapnap?" You opened the door to your house and entered to turned around to face him once more.

He crouched his character and took a breath, "George has this idea that when we- when we flirt, it's not just a bit. And, I just wanted to ask you," he comes closer a bit, as your air catches in your throat, "is it just- do you see it as just a bit?"

'Because I don't,' the words die on his tongue, not wanting to sway your next words.

You sat for a second, thoughts going a million miles a minute as you finally find the will to say, "Sap, I–" 

"Its okay if you do, I mean yeah, like if thats how you see it then that's how I see it too, yknow? I don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything and the last thing I want to do is ruin the friendship we just started like a week ago, and I–" His nervous ramblings are cut short when you hit his character, a smile finding its way onto your face. 

"Sap, we really need to start letting people finish their fuckin sentences," you laugh, your nerves building again but you decide to say fuck it and push through before you chicken out, "I was going to say… I don't know if it's just a bit or not but, if you're okay with it… I wouldn't mind taking the flirting a bit more seriously?" A nervous smile settled on your features, the butterflies in your stomach going wild, as you waited for his answer. 

Another beat of silence as Sapnap gathered his scattered briancells to finally form a coherent thought. "I- yeah, yeah, I'd love to," a relieved laugh turns into a genuine one after he realizes, "Oh my god, George was right." 

You grin, nerves now mostly gone, "Motherfucker really was tired of our bullshit, huh?" Easy laughter flowed between you two before another Discord ping rung out.

George had joined the call, presumably to gloat about being right, but instead: "Hey uh, y/n? You do realize you're still streaming, right?"

#sapnap x reader #gn!reader #x reader #sapnap #mcyt #dream smp #georgenotfound #prompt #writing challenge #dreamsmp x reader #svgarbees writing challenge #pog #probsjosh is being a goblin again lets goooii #sapnap fluff #no editing we die like wilbur soot #probsjosh writes

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love and Medicine ~ 8

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 4,175ish

Summary: Your roommates are annoyed and Gamora is determined to make you jump through hoops.

Notes: This is based off of Grey’s Anatomy 1x07. I do not own Marvel or Grey’s Anatomy.

When your alarm went off, you were naked in your bed. With a naked Steve beside you. A small groan passing between his lips, Steve reached around you to turn off the alarm clock and then cuddled into you.

“Hmmm,” you hummed, enjoying his arms around you way too much. “You have to get up now.”

“What?” Steve mumbled, half asleep. “What time is it?”

You smirked, rolling on top of him. “It’s 5:20, and I have pre-rounds. And you,” you booped his nose, “have to leave before they see you.”

You gave him a small kiss before rolling off of him.

“Oh, come on, now,” Steve grumbled. “Why don’t you just let them see?” He quickly rolled on top of you, pinning you down.

“No!”

“Please!”

“No! No!”

He began placing kisses all over you. Saying, ‘please’, between eat kiss.

“Steve!” You squealed. “St-stoppp!

~~~

“You two get any sleep?” Scott asked, walking into the kitchen where Val and Clint were eating.

“Oh, she could oil the bedsprings as a courtesy or at least buy a padded headboard,” Val complained.

“So, uh, who’s the guy?” Clint asked.

“You think it was just one guy doing all that work?”

“Yeah, do you mind if I don’t think about that?”

“Oh, you jealous, Barton?” Scott teased.

“I’m not jealous.”

“Well, I am,” Val responded. “But at least I know she’ll be having a long day at work.”

They all froze when they heard a floor board near the top of the stairs squeak. The three of them rushed over to the doorway, wanting to see who was coming down the stairs. Steve snuck down the stairs and out the door, seen by Val, Clint, and Scott.

“Well, at least we know that brain surgery isn’t his only skill,” Val commented, going to get more coffee.

“They—they can’t be…” Clint stared at the front door in shock. “He’s… he’s our boss.”

“Yep,” Scott replied, glancing at his watch. “We’re late. You know, she has been scrubbing in a lot lately on his surgeries.”

“No, Y/N wouldn’t sleep with him just to… no.”

“Well, if she’s not ashamed of it, why is she keeping it a secret?” Val wondered.

“Maybe she didn’t. Maybe it just happened. You know, spontaneously, last night.”

“Good morning,” you greeted, entering the kitchen.

“Morning,” Val and Scott responded.

“So…” Val started, “it sounded like you were having some pretty radical sex last night, all night long. Who was the guy?”

“No one you know,” you lied with a shrug.

Clint, Scott, and Val all gave each other a look.

“We’re late,” Scott said. “Let’s go.”

~~~

“I’m gonna beed a major rush to make it through this day,” Clint said in the locker room. “I need a kick-ass surgery.”

“Ooh, you a bad boy last night, Clint?” Peter taunted.

“No,” Val answered for him. “That would be Y/N.”

“You a bad boy, Y/N?”

“Do tell,” Natasha urged.

“Nothing to tell,” you shrugged.

“That says it all, huh?”

Val slammed her locker door shut, annoyed at your lies.

“Sorry, I have a sex life,” you apologized.

“Don’t apologize,” Peter said. “Embrace it. Share it. Count me in.”

“Yeah, next time, just let me know if I need to go to a hotel so I can get some sleep,” Val said.

“Am I missing something?” You asked.

“You were just a little loud,” Scott replied.

Everyone left except you and Natasha.

“Do they know it’s Captain McDreamy keeping them up all night?” Natasha asked.

“I hope not,” you answered. “I already have Gamora riding me, I don’t need my roommates thinking I’m getting special treatment.”

~~~

You yawned as you and Natasha met up with the other interns and Dr. Gamora. You just hoped that you didn’t look as tired as you felt.

“Barton, Romanoff, Lang, Quill, go on to the clinic,” Gamora ordered. She looked up, catching Clint watch Steve through a window. Steve was putting in eye drops. “Barton, patients are waiting.” Clint scurried off. “You two,” Gamora motioned to you and Val, “come with me. Val, you’re hanging with me today.” Steve walked over. “Good morning, Dr. Rogers.”

“Dr. Gamora,” he replied as you yawned. “Late night, L/N?”

“No,” you responded, “caffeine just hasn’t kicked in yet.”

“If you’re at all religious, you would want to start praying it kicks in soon,” Gamora retorted. “There’s a consult in the pit. Girl with a fever and abdominal pain. After that, Lee in 3311 needs his meds. Mr. Jackson’s IV fell out, and he’s a hard stick. Post-ops in 1337, 3342, 3363, and 2381.”

You had nodded along, trying to get your tired brain to understand what she was saying. “3381, 3342, 3363,” you repeated, “and 23… 81?” 

Gamora simply glared at you instead of answering what you needed. “Why are you still standing in front of me?”

You quickly hurried down to the pit, not wanting to get on Gamora’s bad side anymore than you already were. You started your consultation with an eighteen year old girl named Jessie Todd. Her mother and father were both accompanying her. Jessie seemed nervous, biting her nails.

“I think she got some bug on her trip to Mexico with her friends,” Mrs. Todd said. “I told her not to go to a third-world country, but does she ever listen?”

“She’s been weak ever since and she’s lost weight,” Mr. Todd worried.

“Barely,” Jessie mumbled.

“And this morning, she passed out in the shower.”

“When was the trip?” You asked.

“A couple weeks ago,” Jessie answered. “I’m really fine. I just have a fever.”

“Okay, well, will you lie back for an exam for me?”

“No, please, I don’t need an exam. Just give me some antibiotics and send me home.”

“Well, maybe it is just a fever, but they called down for a surgeon, so I have to give the ok to let you go. So just let me do the exam.”

“Do the exam,” Mr. Todd urged.

“No. This is crazy. I’m fine.”

“For God's sake, Jessie, I don't want to spend my entire day here,” Mrs. Todd exclaimed.

“You know, actually, Mrs. Todd, this might be easier if we had some privacy,” you told the parents, sensing that Jessie was worried about their reactions to whatever was going on. “So would you two mind leaving the room?”

“That’s fine,” Mr. Todd said, guiding his wife away.

Jessie lied down and you began to push at her stomach.

“Ow,” Jessie complained. “Don’t push so hard.”

“Can you lift your shirt so I can examine your stomach?” You requested. With a sigh, Jessie slowly lifted her shift, revealing pink scars. “Where did you get these? Jessie… you've had surgery recently. These scars are still pink.”

“Don’t tell my parents.”

“You did this in Mexico so your parents wouldn't know? What did you have done?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Jessie—“

“I can’t!”

With a sigh, you walked away, ordering a CT for Jessie before heading to help the other patients that Gamora had for you.

~~~

You at just finished Gamora’s last job for you when she paged. You were quickly to go find her.

“You paged?” You questioned, finding her near a nurses station.

“Where are we?” She asked.

“I did the consult, did the IV, the meds, the Post-ops, everything.”

“How is your pit patient?”

“She’s febrile and has peritoneal signs.”

Both you and Gamora’s attentions go to Natasha, who is walking by looking ill.

“You alright, Romanoff?” Gamora wondered, not caring all that much.

“Fine,” Natasha responded, waving it off as she kept going. “On my way back to the clinic.”

“Anyway, about the pit patient.”

“I think she had some sort of illegal surgery done in Mexico,” you stated.

“Botched abortion?”

“No. She has four laparoscopic scars on her abdomen and won't say what they're from, the parents are clueless.”

“She’s a minor.”

“Seventeen. Freshman in college.”

“You order up for a CT?”

“Yes,” you nodded.

“So while she's there, the nurses couldn't get a Foley on Mr. Garay. He may need a Coude cath if you can't get a normal one in there. Write up post-op notes on all surgical-floor patients that had surgery within the last 24 hours. Be sure to document their EKG's and x-rays. Hunt them down if you can't find them.”

“Right away.”

~~~

You were exhausted by the time Jessie’s CT scans came back. Gamora was really working you to the bone. Of course, it didn’t help that you had spent most of the night up with Steve, having some of the most enjoyable sex you’ve ever had. But that wasn’t the point. Scans in hand, you found Gamora at the nurses station near the lobby.

“Dr. Gamora?” You walked up to her. “Jessie Todd’s abdominal CTs.” You handed her the scans.

She took them, holding them up to study them. “Is this girl fat?”

“Not at all,” you shook your head. “She’s a normal college kid.”

“So,” she handed the scans back to you, “what do you see?”

You took them back and studied them yourself. “Her stomach’s stapled. She’s had a gastric bypass.”

“And a bad one at, at that.”

Jessie Todd was moved into a patient room. So you and Gamora requested to speak to her parents outside of the hallway. You were tasked to explain to them what at happened.

“Gastric bypass is a procedure normally done on obese patients to help them lose weight,” you stated, after telling them what their daughter had done.

“Jessie?” Mr. Todd questioned. “She doesn’t need to lose weight.”

“Are you kidding?” Mrs. Todd responded. “This means the world to her. But it is so typical of this girl to take the easy way out. She's done it with everything since she was a little kid.”

“Mrs, Todd, nothing about this is gonna be easy,” Gamora said. “She's gonna face a lifelong struggle with malnutrition unless she has surgery to reverse the procedure.”

“Do the surgery,” Mrs. Todd ordered before turning to her husband. “I told her to watch the freshman 15. Don't eat junk, exercise. But when she came home Christmas, who had to take her out and buy her a brand new pair of size 6 jeans because she couldn't get in the ones I got her last summer?”

“Chrissy, you know, she tries so hard,” Mr. Todd retorted. “She does. She gets good grades. She gets A’s.”

“She had illegal surgery in Mexico.”

“Unfortunately, there were complications with the bypass,” Gamora stated.

“What do you mean?” Mr. Todd asked.

“She has what looks like an abscess under her diaphragm, and edema, which is a swelling of the bowel wall. I can't say for certain she'll recover completely.”

“Just do whatever you have to do to make her well, ok?”

“Of course, sir.”

Gamora walked away, and you stayed to check up on Jessie. It was then that Mrs. Todd entered Jessie’s room, angrily.

“Before you guys start,” Jessie quickly said, “I know you’re mad.”

“Disbelief, Jessie,” Mrs. Todd exclaimed. “Just disbelief.”

“I’m just concerned,” Mr. Todd added, much more calmly than his wife. “Where did you get the idea to do this?”

“The internet,” Jessie answered quietly.

“But, honey, there is a healthy way to lose weight,” Mrs. Todd said.

“Yeah, I tried that, but...it doesn't work for me like it does for you.”

“Hey,” Mr. Todd said, putting a hand on his daughter’s leg, “you don’t need to lose weight.”

“What are you eating?” Mrs. Todd quickly wondered. “And how much have you been working out? I mean, you know, most of the time, when people hit their target weight, they have to work to stay there.”

“Everyone gains weight in college, Mom,” Jessie responded. “It’s—it’s stressful. There’s... there's not enough time for exercise. I just thought if I wasn't worried about my diet, then… I could focus more on my studies.”

“So you took yet another shortcut? Life doesn’t work that way, Jessie.”

“Chrissy!” Mr. Todd exclaimed.

“What? You want to argue this?”

Huffing at his wife, Mr. Todd turned to you. “She has so much potential, if she would just apply herself—”

“Okay, okay,” you interrupted, having heard enough. “I think we should focus on taking care of your daughter. And, Jessie, your parents agree, the best thing to do is to reverse the bypass.”

“No!” Jessie shouted. “No, it's my body. I do not want surgery again. Please?”

“There were serious complications. And this is about your health.”

“But I’d rather be thin.”

“Well, I’m afraid the choice isn’t up to you,” Mrs. Todd responded.

~~~

With a sigh, you found yourself pushed up against the wall in the stairwell. You were tired and so over Mrs. Todd.

“Long day?” Tony’s voice came closer.

You opened your eyes to see him walking up the stairs. “You could say that,” you responded. “How’s trying to get a date with Dr. Potts going?”

“Not so well,” he sighed, coming to leaning against the wall beside you. “I’ve been bringing her coffee or tea every morning though. I’m trying.”

“You really screwed up,” you giggled.

“You’re telling me. How are you and Steve?”

“We’re… fine.”

“He told me you were up all last night.”

“What?!”

“Okay, he didn’t tell me. But I can see how tired both of you are. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.”

“It’s that obvious? Tony, are you serious? This could totally ruin—“

“Woah, woah, woah. Calm down there, Y/N. I’m just playing with you. Gosh, you need to take a chill pill or something.”

“Sorry, sorry. I’m just… I know we shouldn’t be doing what we are doing.”

“But you enjoy it too much to stop. I get it… I just wish I was getting some too.”

~~~

Natasha was standing in the hall looking nauseous.

“Romanoff!” Clint called, excitedly hurrying up to her. “I’m scrubbing in on a hemispherectomy with Rogers.”

“Get out!” She responded. “I would kill for that.”

“We're gonna cut out half a girl's brain and it's going to work. It's outrageous. Almost makes it hard to hate him.”

“Why do you hate him?”

“Oh, no reason.”

“You know about him and Y/N, don’t you?”

“You know?”

“When are you gonna figure out that I know everything?”

Noticing Val walking up from behind, Clint pointed at Natasha. “She knows.”

“What?” Val questioned. “About Y/N and the Captain?”

“It’s been going on for, like ever,” Natasha commented.

“Seriously?”

“And you didn’t tell us?” Clint wondered.

“Ooh, you’re a gossip, huh?” Natasha responded.

“I am not!”

“I am,” Val said.

“He’s about to go into major brain surgery on no sleep? Not very responsible.”

“Jealous much?” Natasha chuckled. “Sex all night isn't about being responsible.”

“No,” Val agreed, “it’s about sex all night. I can't believe you're not more pissed off about this, you of all people.”

“Well, Y/N works hard all day. She’s good at her job. Why should you care how she unwinds? I mean, you like to bake all night. Some people like to drink. Others like an occasional screaming orgasm.”

~~~

Gamora and you were carefully operating on Jessie in the OR. Gamora was letting you help with more than you thought she would.

“Handle with care,” Gamora advised as she handed you Jessie’s bowel. “This things—“

“Full of gunk,” you responded. “I know.”

“We need to free the bowel from the adhesions caused from the abscess. This poor girl. What was she thinking?”

“She wants her mother's approval. She wanted to please her.”

“And this damage is the result? Here, resect that.”

“Needle-tip Bovie, please,” you requested, handing the bowel back to Gamora.

“When you’re done here, you have post-ops waiting.”

“I know, Dr. Gamora.”

“Natasha also has the flu. So, you need to pick up the slack in the clinic as well.”

“Look, I’ll mop the floors, okay?” That earned you a glare from Gamora. “Sorry, that was inappropriate.”

“It's not the only thing that's inappropriate. While we're on the subject, you care to tell me what you think you're doing?”

“Look, I'll jump through hoops if you want me to. But what I do what I leave this hospital is my business.”

“Half this hospital knows your business. Flu isn't the only virus spreading around here.”

“I made a choice, and I know you don't respect me for that choice. But I'll live with the consequences.”

“Then I'll have lots of hoops for you to jump through.”

“I've done everything you've asked me to do. I may not do it your way but it gets done. So whatever else you got, bring it on.” 

Suddenly, Jessie’s bowel burst. Spraying you with toxic waste. You could hear the people watching in the gallery go, ‘ew’.

“Okay, Dr. L/N, now that you’ve drained the organ, we can attempt to repair it,” Gamora said.

“Now my day is perfect,” you muttered.

The nurses tried to clean you up the best they could as you operated. Though they seemed to only make it worse. After the surgery, you and Gamora headed out into the hallway together.

“I need a shower,” you commented.

“No, I need a shower,” Gamora retorted. “You need to go tell that girl's parents what kind of kid they're getting back.”

“You're not gonna let me shower first?”

“That would be a hoop, would it not?”

“It would qualify.”

“Shower first, then.”

You rushed to the locker room. Val and Natasha were already there.

“Ew, what smells?” Val asked as you passed her.

“That would be me,” you answered, "or more specifically, my patient's insides all over me.”

“That makes me strangely happy.”

“Oh, Y/N,” Natasha grimaced, “you smell like—“

“Karma.”

“What?” You asked Val.

“Nothing.”

“Something vile is stuck in your hair,” Natasha told you, pointing to your hairline. “You know, just go stand over there, please.” She shooed you to the other side of the aisle.

“Ugh, how much do I love being a surgeon right now?” You mumbled.

“Karma,” Val laughed.

“What does karma have to do with anything?”

“I'm just saying, you've been given all the best surgeries. And now you smell like putrid goo. And you're giving off a stench. Karma's a bitch.”

Gamora walked into the locker room. “Dr. Rogers needs an intern in surgery,” she stated. “Which one of you is clear?”

“I’m good!” Natasha raised her hand. She was still looking pale. “Where do you want me?”

“You need to lie down somewhere.”

“I’m fine, I’m completely healthy.”

“L/N?” 

“Of course,” Val grumbled.

“What is your problem?” You asked Val, annoyed.

“Um, you! Cause apparently you can help Captain McDreamy in ways the rest of us can’t.”

“You did not just say th—“

“Yes, I did!”

“Hey!” Gamora called out. “Natasha, hemispherectomy in OR 1 with Dr. Shepherd. Go.”

Natasha nodded and hurried away. Val marched off as well.

“Apparently, I’m not the only one with hoops,” Gamora smirked.

~~~

After showering, you found Mrs. and Mr. Todd in the lobby. As you walked, you explained to them what had gone on in surgery.

“We were able to reverse the gastric bypass, but we did lose a significant portion of her bowel,” you told them. “And because of the short gut syndrome, Jessie will never eat normally again.”

“Ok, wait, do…” Mr. Todd tried to put his thoughts together. “How do we help her here?”

“Well, getting proper nutrition will be a lifelong problem for Jessie.”

“Great,” Mrs. Todd murmured, annoyed, “as if we already don't have our hands full with her.”

“She gets good grades. She stays out of trouble. She's smart. I just think she feels like nothing she does is good enough for you.”

“If you somehow think that I'm responsible for this…”

“I think Jessie is killing herself to please you.”

“Oh, please. You have no idea what's going on in that girl's mind.”

“You're her mother. She worships the ground you walk on. She didn't do this for herself.”

“I think that this situation is completely—“

“Chrissy, shut up,” Mr. Todd interrupted.

Both you and Mrs. Todd looked shocked as Mr. Todd walked faster to Jessie’s room.

~~~

Clint had had an interesting day, to say the least. He had discovered that the anesthesiologist in Steve’s surgery was drunk. Bringing up to Dr. Rogers, both the anesthesiologist and Dr. Rogers got mad, throwing him out of the surgery. Which is why he needed another intern.

Durning the surgery, Natasha and Dr. Rogers quickly realized that Clint had been right. Allowing Natasha and another doctor to close, Steve requested Clint to met him outside of the OR.

“Let me explain,” Steve began.

“It’s fine,” Clint responded.

“No, there is a code among doctors. We're not supposed to ask each other questions, not within the walls of this hospital.”

“Okay, so, I was out of line.”

“No, you weren't. I was. I was out of line. Somebody should have taken responsibility. It should have been the guy doing the cutting. It should have been me. You didn't deserve what happened to you today. You did the right thing code or no code.” Steve held out his hand for Clint to shake. Hesitantly, Clint shook it. “You saw me leave the house this morning, didn’t you?”

Clint pulled his hand away. “Oh, was that you?”

“Hmm. I’m not using her. And I don’t favor her.”

“She’s pretty great, you know.”

“Mm-hmm. I know.”

~~~

You went to Jessie, getting her into a wheel chair so that you can walk her around while talking to her alone. You had made a phone call, and you needed to tell her about it.

“Did you fix me?” Jessie asked, after the two of you walked in silence for awhile. 

“No, not completely,” you responded.

“So, I won’t get fat?”

“No.”

“Oh. That’s awesome.”

“Jessie, I’ve asked social services to contact your parents.”

“What? Why?”

“They can help you.”

“With what?”

“You don't know this yet, but life isn't supposed to be like this. It's not supposed to be this hard. And your mom… she isn’t suppose to treat you this way.”

~~~

You were so extremely grateful when you were finally allowed to go home. It was late, so you were expecting your roommates to be asleep. When you entered the kitchen, you found Val frosting a cake.

“I thought you’d be asleep by now,” you commented, searching for food.

“Yeah, well, I’m not,” Val retorted. “If you wait a few minutes, you can have a piece of cake. Baked it chock-full of love. Actually, chock-full of unrelenting, all consuming rage and hostility, but it's still tasty.”

“So you know?”

“I know.”

“Well, do you want the long, sordid version, or do you want the short version, where I started sleeping with a guy who turned out to be my boss?”

“Neither.”

“Val, cut me some slack here.”

“No. You went to Dartmouth. Your parents— don’t get me started on that. I know you’re trying to hide who your parents are. But I know. You grew up— look at this house! You know, you walk into the OR, and there isn’t anyone who doubts that yo should be there. I… I grew up in a trailer park. I went to state school. I put myself through med school by posing in my underwear. You know, I walk into the OR, and everyone hopes I'm the nurse. Y-you have their respect without even trying, and you're throwing it away for...what? A few good surgeries?”

“No. It's not about the surgeries. It's not about getting ahead.”

“Then what? A little hot sex? You're willing to ruin your credibility over that? I mean, Y/N, what the hell are you doing?” You huffed, shaking your head. “Oh, my… you’re falling for him.”

“I am not.”

“Oh, you so are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You so are. Damn it, you poor girl.”

“You know, it's just that he's just so… And I'm just… I'm having a hard time.”

"Wow, you're all, uh, mushy and… warm and full of secret feelings.” Val handed you a piece of cake.

“I hate you!” You snatched the cake from her. “And your cake.”

“My cake is good. So, um, how hot is the sex?”

“Val.”

“What? Come on, my girlfriend broke up with me, I’m not getting any. Help a girl out with a few details.”

~~~

Steve showed up at your door an hour later, exhausted as well. You two headed up to your bedroom. You were both on either side of the bed, pulling back the covers.

“You know,” Steve slurred, “we could just…”

“Sleep?” You finished.

“We could, yeah, if… if you want to.”

“Yeah?”

You both crawled into bed. You turned off the lamp beside you before cuddling into Steve’s side. He reached over and turned off the lamp at his side.

“I could get used to this,” you whispered, falling asleep.

next chapter >

NOTES: from now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2​​​. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

#steve rogers x reader #gamora x reader #peter quill x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #clint barton x reader #scott lang x reader #tony stark x reader #the avengers x reader #avengers x reader #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #steve rogers imagine #Steve Rogers

[pear-pies]

Placebo in Rock & Folk magazine - April 2003

Words by Jerome Soligny, photos by Carole Epinette

Wonky translation under the cut:

These three did it all. Shot with the QOTSAs and posed with Indo. They survived "Velvet Goldmine" and the Top Bab. They come back after the ordeal of the fourth album. Danger interview: “Jerome, what if you came out?” They ask our charming reporter.

"We do not regret anything"

Everything begins again with "Bulletproof Cupid", a punky instrument that pulls everything off. Then "English Summer Rein", mechanico-depressive spinning punctuated by twisted keyboards, and "Sleeping With Ghosts", the lament which advances while blistering during cooking, confirm the tone. Against all expectations, because you never know how will age the groups that the previous album installed at the Top, Placebo took over. And stuffed it in an iron glove. Further on, "The Bitter End" tumbles through yapping guitars which would stick to the hatches the thickest of the sailors. Be careful, Placebo is on the way out of being one. At the end of the record, Brian Molko, Stefan Olsdal and Steve Hewitt do not even run out of steam. The cows. They drop a "Centerfolds" which frolic like a cynical top under a shower of saving doubts. What augur still other perspectives.

The fourth album: a horror for all who have faced it. Often a stupid trap. Returning from the Gothic directly inherited from the glam of pageantry and from these hasty and harmful certainties which congest the face and the veins, Placebo publishes its first real great disc. Oh, not the marvel of wonders, not the album from the third millennium, but something very strong, compact, tenacious in listening, which proves that the future is indeed there, in front, where the light is most blinding. Calfeucée in their Parisian hotel (the Costes, of course), our three lads do not make the blow of the revelation, of the luminous questioning. Simply, they now think with their heads, a good plan most often Likewise, reality no longer frightens them, and it is probably she who is hiding behind this "Sleeping With Ghosts" which relates the sorrows only for the better. melt into hopes At the moment when rock brings us back to life and when we just want to ask them everything, the Placebo have decided to say everything. Not even in a hurry, they settle down on the couch, ready to talk like never before. Despite new batteries embedded in the carcass, the Panasonic barely a Brian Molko: Hey Jerome, you came to talk to us this time when you had not come to the previous album ...

Rock & Folk: Uh yes but I was there for the first two, that says a lot, right?

Brian Molko: Certainly, I also believe that over time, we finally appreciate the true nature of the problem: we were mainly criticized for the sound of the previous album, which I can understand but, paradoxically, it is the one that brought us to the Top.

R&F: Legitimately, we have the right to expect a lot from the people we love: while "Black Market Music" sounded a bit like a sequel, this new record is all about a renaissance.

Brian Molko: Actually, we were finally able to live a little. After having existed in a small bubble for a very long time, we forced ourselves to take an eight-month break. The album-tour rhythm put us on the sidelines: we no longer had normal contact with anything. We were losing ourselves. We have fully lived the old cliché which claims that we spend the first years of our life writing a first record and six months on the second. It turned out to be very true. We had to get back to the situation of the first album, see friends, go shopping, look at the buildings in our city.

R&F: So the freshness would come from there ...

Brian Molko: Yes, and it was essential spiritually, emotionally and physically.

Steve Hewitt: We had to be in tune with reality again.

Brian Molko: In fact, we find ourselves in a bit of the same state of mind as when we released "Without You I'm Nothing", although "Sleeping With Ghosts" is a lot less gloomy. The heroin has since stopped leaking. In fact, I feel like I've pulled myself out of what I consider my second teenage years, between twenty and thirty. I conquered the self-destruction, exorcised some demons, understood what had happened to me. I held on to what I had learned. As a human being, I am now able to continue living, to try to answer the big questions posed by existence.

R&F: Maybe that's why the melodies are needed this time. It took me four records to get a favorite Placebo track.

The whole group in chorus: Which one?

R&F: "Protect Me From What I Want", of course ...

Brian Molko: The most paradoxical is that this song dates from the end of the "Black Market Music" sessions. I was not married at the time, but I was trying to get out of a particularly vicious divorce.just started. Then we wait for the lyrics, which don't arrive, it's rather intriguing. We especially wanted to avoid the big Rican producer side, we needed someone who shakes us up a bit. Jim could do that because he comes from dance and his pedigree is impressive. We have all his records at home, Bjôrk, Massive Attack, Sneaker Pimps and especially DJ Shadow. It is believed that guitar rock can only evolve by incorporating new genres, this is the only way to remain a modern rock band. At home, we practically only listen to hip hop.

R&F: Still, he didn't betray you.

Brian Molko: No because he actually brought out our rock side, which I'm particularly proud of. In fact, because we always wanted to control everything, it was not easy to be forced, to do certain things backwards, to walk on the head. But in truth, that's what we wanted: yes, there was some tension in the studio but we all took advantage of it. The challenge is necessary and it is also valid for the public. We opened up and rediscovered ourselves.

Stefan Olsdal (emerging from his chair): We found ourselves in front of the mirror, at the foot of the wall: someone had to kick our ass.

Brian Molko: Jim was like, "Why are you doing this?" We would answer him: "Because we always do it like that!" He would say: "All the more reason not to do it."

Stefan Olsdal: On the first day, he messed up all the demos, changed the tones, the tempos ...

R&F: Like Brian Eno ...

Steve Hewitt: Yeah, but with a lot more compassion. Eno is a bit (silence) ... We don't really like being told our actions, but at the same time, we are still young, still absorbing. Jim knew how to preserve us while making a modern sound.

R&F: Modern and rock'n'roll at the same time, a characteristic which does not necessarily apply to all the young groups in The which recycle the past gently but are convinced to have found the virus of the AIDS.

Steve Hewitt: Placebo doesn't belong to any current, has nothing to do with fashion.

R&F: You always pose as outsiders.

Brian Molko: It's the only way to survive.

Steve Hewitt: These bands, like The Strokes, play the nostalgia card.

Stefan Olsdal: And what happens next? I would not like to be in their place.

Brian Molko: If you want good New York pop, you better listen to Blondie.

R&F: In 2003, 11 seems that you have abandoned all the androgynous paraphernalia, sexual ambiguity, glam references ...

Brian Molko: I think today everyone knows what there is to know. Our sexual inclinations haven't changed, and we still wear makeup. It is just more expensive and better applied. We are ourselves, in our music and in private. I went through my travelo period (in French in the interview - Editor's note), and I understood that being androgynous was not wearing skirts. It is a way of being on the spiritual plane. It is not an image but a state of mind.

Steve Hewitt: It's like being punk, it's an attitude.

Brian Molko: At the same time, I don't regret any of my eccentricities. I grew up in the spotlight and it all kind of makes me smile.

Stefan Olsdal: People still talk to us about certain outfits or positions, as if it still shocks them.

R&F: Yes, and particularly in France, a particularly homophobic country which bumps heartily on gay artists.

Brian Molko: And you, coincidentally, you still hang out with.

Stefan Olsdal: Jérôme, it's coming out time (laughs) ...

Brian Molko: All that has to change, that all of France becomes gay (laughs)!

R&F: "Protect Me From What I Want" precisely, here is a title heavy with meaning. What was the idea behind this song?

Brian Molko: For me, it's a study of the pathological need people have to copulate, the search for meaning in copulation. As if bachelors or monogamists were aliens. As if we were only one when we were two. The song is about the fact that one relationship has destroyed me but I can't help but look for another ... why do I keep coming back to this?

R&F: Wow, we're bathing in philosophy here!

Brian Molko: Yes and it's the same elsewhere in the record: in "Plasticine", I insist on the fact that you have to be yourself above all while asking myself all these questions. Why do we have to do a lot of forbidden things, bad or harmful?

R&F: It's therapy in public.

Brian Molko: At least I find some balance in it. These are not songs about compassion or self-pity. They came out like this because it was vital for me. I am in this privileged situation where I can express myself and the world hears me. Otherwise, I would be really frustrated and I would have suffered a lot more in the last fifteen years.

R&F: Music saved your life.

Brian Molko: Sure.

Steve Hewitt: Everyone: I think we can say that. Without Placebo, we would not be not even alive.

Brian Molko: Spitting it all out is not necessarily the right solution. There are things with which to live. In fact, I've always been afraid to go see a psychiatrist ...

R&F: Yet, listening to you speak earlier, you could have the feeling that Jim Abiss acted a bit like a shrink with you.

Brian Molko: That's right. You could say that.

R&F: At a time when Bush and Blair want to play World War III, what attitude do you adopt? What do you think of these Englishmen who left for Iraq to constitute a human shield?

Brian Molko: Let's say we stand together. We participated in the March for Peace on February 14th with Damon Albarn and 3D from Massive Attack. We were also surprised that so few groups mobilized, which increased our desire to participate tenfold.

R&F: Do you consider that it is the role of the artist to give voice in such circumstances?

Steve Hewitt: Yes, in the sense that we can help with general motivation.

Brian Molko: I'm very interested in seeing if Blair is going to let Bush bomb Iraq with the British present on the soil of the country. If he ever allows that, the consequences will be dire.

R&F: It will only be one more religious war, in the name of oil and money ...

Brian Molko: It seems absurd that we can still fight for that. And curiously, nobody speaks more, or almost, of Bin Laden. Wouldn't it all come from him, by chance, as a huge consequence of September 11? On the other hand, we have such a feeling that Bush wants to finish the job that daddy started. Its image is so bad that it needs at least one war to restore its image.

Steve Hewitt: And reinvigorate its dying economy.

R&F: The method is lamentable, deceitful. Like those employed by the recording industry which claims to be doing well by selling pop in damaged boxes to ignoramuses.

Brian Molko: The ability of this job to ingest people, bribe them and then spit them out is impressive. This is what happened here at Canal +.R&F: Business is the beast.

Brian Molko: All these pre-made artists are young and naff ...

Steve Hewitt: They'll all end up in a labor camp for ex-pop stars.

R&F: Warhol was talking about fifteen minute glory, we're brutally passed to fifteen seconds.

Brian Molko: We should have called them Karaoke idols from the start.

Steve Hewitt: And it only works because of the TV ...

R&F: Who washes the poor, helpless brains.

Steve Hewitt: You can tell how much people want to think less

R&F: And spend less. For many, music should be free: one in five thirteen-year-olds doesn't know that a disc doesn't have to be a computer-burnt puck. Some are flabbergasted when they see a cover for the first time.

Stefan Olsdal: And those who don't buy records put pressure on those who have them to pass them on at all costs, just long enough to copy them.

R&F: Exactly.

Brian Molko: That's why we blame Robbie Williams so much. Scooping 80 million pounds off EMI and then declaring that pirating music is a fantastic thing just makes him want to stick a chunk in his face.

R&F .: And then piracy is not a matter of environment. It's not a suburban thing. There are rich kids who find it normal to burn 80 CDs during their weekend and sometimes sell them to their friends ...

Brian Molko: What do these people believe? That we are there, the face in the stream with a syringe stuck in the arm singing "La Vie En Rose"? And who will pay for our children's school? Not them, anyway. Our mentality is quite different: we always want to buy records from people we love, from our friends. Personally, we are partly out of the woods, but it will be particularly difficult for new groups to make a living from music in five or ten years.

R&F: Come on, we're not going to leave each other on this, a little humor won't hurt anyone. If you were to be banned from any of these three things, which would you choose: making music, making money or making love?

Steve Hewitt (almost tit for tat): I would stop making money, without hesitation. It's because I love music and sex too much. And then, well, you have to choose.

Brian Molko (completely overwhelmed): Oh damn, that's not true. What a dilemma!

R&F: No Brian, that doesn't count, make an effort (laughs).

Brian Molko: Ah, I don't know. And then if. I would stop making money and get on well with someone super rich.

R&F: Or you would be pimp ...

Brian Molko: Yes, that's it. Good plan.

Stefan Olsdal: Stop making love does not mean to stop loving ...

Brian Molko (preparing his shot): And we can always masturbate (general laughter).

Stefan Olsdal: OK then, I would stop making love.

R&F: Okay, it will be written in black and white for all eternity.

Brian Molko: Will we live long enough to regret it? This is the real question.

*COLLECTED BY JEROME SOLIGNY

[Inset, Trash Palace]

Already present on the first album by Trash Palace which he had adorned with his presence one unhealthy recovery of "I Love You, Me No More "in duet with Asia Argento, Brian Molko is coming to re-stack. This time he cosigns directly "The Metric System " with Dimitri Trash Palace Tikovoi, an electro saw boosted to bleeps fundamentals available in two remix and its clip on an enhanced single recently published at Discograph. The result is particularly (d) amazing and sounds good logical, like of Placebo cyber.Placebo in  Rock & Folk magazine - April 2003

#the cows. #placebo #brian molko #stefan olsdal #steve hewitt #the metric system is so chaotic i love it

[sgtbradfords]

Chenford + “Hey, take a breath. Here, hold my hand.”

Thanks for the prompt anon! I hope you’re ok with an AU because that’s what my muse produced. Enjoy and Happy Friday!

Tim Bradford sat on a tattered barstool in front of a bar, taking small sips of the amber liquor that occupied the glass in his right hand. He couldn’t believe her. No, scratch that. He could believe her, but chose to ignore that small fact.

“What do you want?” He grumbled, his focus staying on the rows of multicolored bottles behind the bar.

“Now Tim, is that anyway to treat a friend?” She smiled, sitting down at the counter next to him.

Tim grunted, holding the glass against his lips. “I’m not your friend.”

“Is that anyway to treat your wife then?”

He roughly sat the drinking glass down onto the mahogany wood, turning his body towards her. “We’re not married.”

“Maybe not legally, but you have to admit that trip to Barbados was fun.” She gleamed.

“Fun? We almost became shark bait.”

“Keyword being almost Tim.”

Tim sighed. “Why are you here Lucy?”

Lucy pouted. “Can I not have a drink with a friend?”

“We’re not fr-“

“We’re friends Tim. Whether you like it or not.”

Tim turned his head. “Give me one reason as to why shouldn’t I arrest you right now?”

Lucy bit her lip, placing her right hand onto his left arm. “Because that’s not part of our deal and you know it.”

Tim shook his head, turning his focus back to the rows and shelves of bottles behind the bar. “What have you heard?”

“Not here.” She smiled, shaking her head. “What’d you say we get out of here?”

Tim tossed back the rest of the whiskey, sitting the empty glass on the counter as he stood.

Twenty minutes later, Lucy was leading Tim through a penthouse apartment.

“I’m not even going to ask how you’re affording this.” He sighed, kicking his shoes off by the door.

Lucy shrugged. “I’m one of the best thieves in the business Tim.”

“Used to be.” He told her as he made his way to the kitchen. “You used to be one of the best thieves Lucy.”

Lucy followed his retreating form. “Semantics.” She told him, offhandedly waving as she leaned against the wall separating the two rooms.

Tim grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge, twisting the cap off before taking a long drag of the cold liquid.

“Are you going to tell me the plan Chen? Or are you just going to stare at me?”

Lucy felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment at being caught before she jumped, moving to sit up onto the marble countertop. “How do you feel about Dexter?”

Tim set the plastic bottle down on the other side of the countertop, staring at his partner before he leaned forward against the chilled marble.

“The TV show?”

“No,” she told him, rolling her eyes. “Maine.”

“Can’t say that I have visited there recently. What have you heard?”

“Word is that the artifacts that were stolen from a museum in Madrid last week, are about to be sold, amongst other things.”

Tim ran a hand down his face. “Ok, stolen artifacts from Spain. What are they doing in the States?”

Lucy shrugged. “Not sure yet but, I do know that there are some major players involved. Cole Midas, Nick Armstrong, Rosalind Dyer.”

“Fuck.” He cursed, propping his hands on the countertop. “Have you notified Grey?”

She shook her head. “He vaguely knows the details, but he also said not to tell him if we were fixing to do something illegal.”

Tim chuckled, lifting off his top half off the counter as he moved to the living room, stopping in front of the panoramic windows that overlooked the city below.

The view from the top of the high rise was breathtaking. Views of the Pacific Ocean and vast rolling hills could be seen off in the distance, other skyscrapers and smaller occupied buildings on every corner. The glow of headlights and taillights lighting up the darker corners of the City of Angels. The sound of sirens could be heard as they echoed down the streets and up the sides of the buildings around them.

“You’re thinking too loud.” She softly spoke from behind him.

“We are not going to have a repeat of last time Luce.” He whispered into the night.

“Hey, what happened last time-“ Lucy told him as she took a step forward, gently placing her hand on his shoulder, the touch causing Tim to release a sigh.

“Was my fault.” He finished for her. “You almost- I watched you die Lucy.”

“That was not your fault Tim Bradford, and you know it. What he did- I’m alive because of you.”

“I can’t-“ He hesitated, the words catching in his throat as he looked down at the world moving around them. “I can’t lose you again.”

Lucy could feel her heart break at the emotion in his uttered confession.

“Here,” She told him as she removed her hand from his shoulder. “Take my hand.”

Tim turned slowly, making no move to reach for her hand, causing Lucy to take matters into her own hands, reaching for his. She grasped his hand in hers, his calloused skin a stark contrast to the softness of hers.

“I’m alive Tim.” She sighed as she gently squeezed his hand with hers. “And you know that doing the job that we do, we have to take risks. You knew this when you swore an oath and put on that badge, long before you were tasked with capturing me.”

He shook his head. “These risks, are they worth it?”

Lucy looked up. “You know it is, if it means that I am not locked up in a federal prison or extradited to another country, it’s always worth it.”

Tim’s other hand moved on its own accord, his calloused fingers brushing against her skin as he pushed the strands of hair that had fallen back behind her ear.

“You know I won’t let that happen.”

She smiled at the truth in his words. She knew he wouldn’t. “I know. Now Grey on the other hand…”

“I’ll handle Wade.”

Lucy couldn’t hold back the snicker, letting go of his hand as she stepped back. “I’m sure he’ll love that.”

“Have you talked to the team?” Tim asked, walking away from the window, moving to sit down on the couch.

“Nyla is picking us up in the morning, the rest are on their way to the safehouse.”

Tim sighed, closing his eyes as he leaned his head onto the back of the cushion, time passing as Lucy sat adjacent to the couch in the navy armchair.

“Lucy?” Tim’s gravely spoke after letting his body conform to the plush couch cushion.

“Yeah?”

“This isn’t your penthouse, is it.” He stated, already knowing the answer as he continued to keep his eyes closed.

Lucy chuckled, the only answer he needed as he opened his eyes, his body now tense as he stood up from his relaxed state.

“We’ve talked about this Chen.” He said exasperatedly, running a tired hand down his face as he turned towards her. “You can’t just find something you like and claim it as your own.”

“You going to arrest me?”

Tim cut his eyes at her, just as the faint ding of the elevator arriving to the floor, in the hall sounded.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Lucy looked at Tim panicked. “They weren’t supposed to return until this weekend.”

‘’Yeah well, our lives are just full of surprises.” He told her as he ran across the room, slipping his shoes back onto his feet. “Don’t just there on your ass Lucy!”

She stood quickly, spotting a clear box built into the outside wall that was lit up by the lights of the city below. “Get outside.” She whispered loudly as she pulled the balcony door open, stepping onto the concrete platform, rushing over to the wall.

Tim ran after her, jerking the small glass door open as he pulled the fire ladder out, heaving it over the railing as the ladder extended into the night, landing two balconies below.

“We better hope no one’s at home or we’re going to have a hard time explaining this one.” He told her as he tossed a leg over onto the metal rung, followed by the other leg.

“Later Bradford. Now move!” She chastised as she followed. “And don’t you dare look up!”

“It’s dark out Chen, not a whole lot to be seen!” He said as he focused on moving down to the next step below. “Why are you wearing a skirt anyways? You never wear skirts.”

“Are you looking up?” She lowly asked. “Don’t look!”

Tim rolled his eyes. “It’s not anything I’ve not seen before Luce.”

His footing quickly found solid concrete as he planted them on the balcony, keeping both hands on the sides of the ladder, attempting to hold it steady.

“Different circumstances Tim.” She told him as the soles of her shoes touched the concrete. Lucy turned, opening the apartments sliding door.

“Why is it not locked?” He asked.

“We’re almost six hundred feet off the ground, why would you lock your door?”

He sighed as they walked through the seemingly vacant apartment. “Because someone-“

“It’s time turn your training off Tim, join the dark side.”

Tim stopped, pulling open the front door, ushering her through as he locked the door behind them, pulling it close.

“The last time you said that we were thrown out of a plane at twenty thousand feet by those Cubans. Mind you, with a half-assed parachute.”

Lucy pressed the button on the wall for the elevator, the arrow above showing the cart slowly coming down.

“You got us down.”

Tim turned, staring her down. “When do we have to be at the airfield?”

“0700. Harper said something about a bumpy ride so I hope you pack your Dramamine.”

“As long it’s not that damn Stratotanker again, I’ll be fine.” He grumbled as the elevator hit the ground floor, the doors opening.

“I’ll see you in the morning at the airfield, I’ve got a few things that I need to wrap up here.” Lucy told him as they walked across the lobby. “And you might want to call Wesley, have him wipe the security tapes.”

Tim shook his head. “No more breaking into houses.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” she smirked.

“You better not be late.”

Lucy turned, walking into the night but not before getting in the last word. “And have you condition my ass again? Never.”

Twelve hours later, Tim found himself 33,000 feet off the ground, his body strapped into the uncomfortable harness of a C-130.

“You good?” Lucy asked as she walked back from the cockpit, sitting down next to Tim as she began strapping herself back in to the seat.

“For the third time Lucy, I’m fine.” He sighed, finding the familiar rocking motion of the military aircraft more comforting than sickening.

“Nyla said we’re about twenty minutes from landing. I tried getting the pilot, his name is James by the way, to tell me how Nyla was able to convince him to smuggle us on, but he wouldn’t budge.” Lucy told him as the corners of Tim’s lips threatened to turn. “I’m pretty sure their sleeping together.”

Soon the wheels of the aircraft touched the ground once again, landing at a military base in Vermont before they picked up the government issued vehicle that was left for them, making the six-hour drive to Maine.

“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” Nyla asked from her seat in the back of the sedan as they made their way northeast on the interstate.

Tim scoffed. “I know how to punch in the address into the GPS Harper. Or would you rather stop and ask for directions every hour?”

Lucy rested her head on the windshield of the passenger door, smiling as the backseat driver chose to keep her critiques to herself for the remainder of the ride.

The ample afternoon sunshine, quickly turned into dusk as Tim steered the vehicle onto a flat gravel road, the rocks under the tires paving the way before coming to a stop in front of an elegant two-story lake house.

“How are you two affording this?” Nyla asked as she stepped out of the car, her boots crunching the rocks under her feet. “On second thought, I don’t want to know.”

“Plausible deniability?”

“Yep.” She told them as she grabbed her duffle from the open trunk. “Anyone else here yet?”

“Angela and Wesley, so yell before you enter.”

Nyla sighed, grumbling about newlyweds under her breath as she walked towards the house.

Tim pulled out another duffle, handing it over to Lucy before grabbing her luggage, extending the handle before grabbing his own, sitting it on top of hers.

“What the fuck do you have in here Lucy?” He asked as he pulled the suitcase across the gravel. “Your picks don’t take up that much space.”

“Stuff.”

Tim rolled his eyes as the bag hit the walkway lined with pavers walking the brick that led to the entrance as he heaved the bags up the stoop and into the house.

“Lucy.” Angela greeted with arms open wide as her and Tim stepped into the house. “May I just say, you are rocking this new look.”

Lucy dropped her bag, stepping into the embrace as she wrapped her right hand around Angela’s back for a few seconds before pulling back out of the hug.

Angela stepped back, moving in front of Tim. “Did you forget to shave?”

Tim exasperatedly sighed, running a hand along the stubble. “It’s not that bad Angela.”

“You sure about that?” She told him earnestly before turning away, leading them out of the foyer and towards the quaint living room. “So, what highly illegal task do we need to accomplish this time for a federal agency that shall not be named.”

Lucy and Tim shared a glance. “We’re not-“

“Please.” Wesley told them as he entered the room from the kitchen. “I done my research on the two of you, well your cover identities, when you first approached us about Istanbul. If it’s on the internet, I can find it, just sometimes in less than legal ways.”

“You know that’s a federal crime, right?”

“Legal or not, your employer pays the bills.” He told them shrugging. “Besides, you can always think of it as our own version of don’t ask, don’t tell.”

The sound of the front door opening once again caused the heads in the room to turn, as a familiar voice echoed off the walls. “Lucy! I’m home!”

“Nolan, I think you watched one too many episodes on the flight.” Jackson West told his friend as he walked through the entry way behind him.

“It was the only show that seemed entertaining during our three-hour flight and, I’ve always wanted to say that.” He sighed with a smile as he set his bag down onto the hardwood floor.

After all the greetings were exchanged and sleeping arrangements made, the group unanimously made their way around to the back of the house, a variety of beers and seltzers in hand as Tim found dry kindling to build a fire in the large stone firepit. The atmosphere around them light, a cool summer breeze making its way off the lake behind them as they caught up with one another.

“So, what are we recovering exactly?” Nyla was the first to ask, leaning forward in the Adirondack chair as she stared down the two people that called them all together once again.

Lucy took a deep breath, her thumb rubbing at the corner of the plastic label on her bottle. “Artifacts, stolen artifacts.”

“Like Indiana Jones?” asked Jackson excitedly. “You know, I’ve always wanted to try the sandbag trick, well minus the whole chased by a giant rolling rock, dodging poisonous dart and spears that want to impale you.”

“Don’t forget you get to carry a whip and the fedora.” Added in Nolan, pretending to crack a whip in his hands. “I always wanted one of those as a child.”

Tim rolled his eyes at the antics of the hired help.

“Come on Tim, you can not tell me that as a child, you never once pretended to be a treasure hunter.” Lucy smiled as she took a quick sip from the bottle in her hand. “Unfortunately, these artifacts are not as cool. But they do cost a pretty penny.”

“So, expensive treasure.” Pointed out Wesley. “Where do we come in?”

“We have three days to get everything into place, but the meet is taking place at a boat dock about an hour north of here.” Tim sighed, the plan unraveling as he stoked the fire. “So far, we know of three major players involved but expect there to be one or two more.”

“Who are we talking about?”

“Cole Midas, Nick Armstrong and Rosalind Dyer.”

Wesley let out a low whistle. “That’s the names of three people on three different most wanted lists right now.”

“Which is why this job is not going to be an easy one.” Tim told their misfit group of friends as he shared a look with Lucy. “If you want to walk away now, there would be no judgement from either of us.”

The five looked at one another, eyes bouncing from one person to the next as they each made their decision.

“I for one, could use a break from building treehouses.”

“I’m game, as long as I am back in time for my audition next week.”

Angela and Wesley shared a silent look. “We’re in.”

Lucy turned her head, looking towards the one person that had not given their answer yet. “Nyla?”

“We need a boat, right? I mean if the meeting is on a lake, we’re going to need a boat.”

Tim nodded, leaning back in his chair as he looked around the firepit at the faces of those that had saved his and Lucy’s asses more than once in the past few years. “Good. Then let’s get started.”

#the rookie fic #chenford fic #chenford fanfic #chenford #fanfic

[mulletcal]

triple word score - an ashton irwin blurb.

a/n: okay sO this is the third part to this little mini series i’ve been doing i guess, i’ll link part one and two below.  @sexgodashton​ said i should write a part three and who am i to say no to writing some more ash content???

word count: 3.6k

warnings: okay so there is smut, and more smut, there is light dom!ash in this, use of the nickname kitten, thigh riding, choking, use of the word ‘daddy’ once.... and i think that’s it???

part one | part two 

----

It had been nearly a month since your kiss with Ashton, and in your mind things were going quite swimmingly.  You had weekly dates where one of you would make dinner, followed by Scrabble just for something fun, and to cap the night off you would watch a movie until you would pass out on his couch with your head in his lap.  His niece left around two weeks in, finally being allowed to travel within the country.  Ashton whispered to you one night how he missed having her around, and you promised that you would remind him to call her in the morning.

The two of you hadn’t ventured into the outside world just yet, nor had you made things official.  You hadn’t minded though, content to stay in your own little bubble of exchanging baked goods and cuddles.  One other thing that happened to be gnawing at the back of your mind, was that you hadn’t made things physical yet - You were trying to be respectful of his boundaries, but everytime Ashton smiled a certain way, or he smacked your ass teasingly, it made your head spin. Figuring that maybe you could make the first move, you’d suggested maybe going somewhere more romantic for your date that week; somewhere still private but different enough that maybe it could set the mood.

Thursday rolled around, and you had just finished packing up the small picnic that you had made for the two of you before you heard your doorbell ring.  Eagerly making your way towards the door, you pulled it open with a wide grin, only to see Ashton standing there with a small bouquet of flowers.

“For me?” You teased, placing your hand on your chest as you let out a overdramatic gasp, “You shouldn’t have.”

“I mean, I know I brought cookies the very first time we met, but since this is our first outside world date I thought I’d make an effort,” Ashton grinned sheepishly, not unaware of the fact that your eyes were dragging down his chest, taking in the short sleeved black button down he was wearing, or the pants that hugged his thighs just right.  “Wanna take a picture? Might last longer.”

“Couldn’t help it, you look fantastic tonight,” Your eyes finally met his, and your smile got even wider as you caught the slightest hint of mischief in his eyes.

“Sure you’re not lookin’ in a mirror there, sweetheart? Because the only one I see right now that looks fantastic is you.”

Swatting his arm with the flowers, you tugged him inside so you could put the flowers into a vase.  You made sure to sway your hips a little extra, if only to pick up the movement in your dress, but it didn’t hurt if Ashton’s eyes lingered a little longer on your behind.  Ashton made small talk as you got the flowers prepared for the water, giggling when he told you that his niece had met a boy and she had a crush.

“Did you tell her to make some cookies?” You tossed him a glance which only made his smile grow bigger.

“Well of course, worked on you didn’t it?”

Rolling your eyes, you set the flowers down finally, turning to grab the small basket you had packed full of goodies.  Cocking your head to the side, you smiled up at him, “Ready to go?”

“Mmhm, wish you would tell me where we’re goin’ though so I can be sure I’m not about to get murdered by Little Red Riding Hood,” Ashton laughed softly, tugging on your dress.  Your plan may just work after all.

“Ash we’re just going on a little picnic!”

“At night?” He questioned, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close, “Listen I’ll trust you for now.  But as soon as things go south I’ll run.”

You pecked his lips, reassuring once again that you weren’t planning on killing him before you tugged him out of the door.  You had decided to drive, to keep an added element of surprise to your date with Ashton.  It wasn’t something that was overly extravagant, you were going to take him to the lake nearby that seemed to look pretty at night, the lights of the city reflecting onto the water.

The drive to the lake was short, Ashton nervously bouncing his leg the whole time.  You wondered briefly if he actually thought you were going to kill him.  The two of you were no longer the strangers that played Words with Friends from a distance - instead, you were on the brink of a relationship, well maybe, hopefully you were.

Pulling into a vacant parking spot, Ashton looked over at you with a confused look, “The lake?”

“Yeah! I thought that maybe we could set up a little picnic, if you’re up for it,” You spoke, a small blush tinting at your cheeks.

“This is different from our Scrabble nights,” He brought your fingers to his lips, kissing them gently before leaning in to kiss you gently right after. 

“Oh don’t worry, I have plans for that later.”

With that, you got out of your car, Ashton quickly grabbed the basket from the backseat, rounding the back to reach his hand out to yours.  Smiling brightly up at him, you took it and squeezed gently.  

The two of you walked a bit of a distance before settling on where to lay the blanket down, settling in as you pulled out the snacks, including the chocolate covered strawberries you had made.  That particular food item earned you a quirked brow from Ashton, drawing a giggle from your lips.

Your date was uneventful, the real excitement planned for later; it wasn’t long after the food had been finished that Ashton sensed you were eager to get home.  The way you sat up on your knees and kept glancing around, mostly back in the direction of your car.

“Bored of me already, are you?” Ashton asked, a cheeky grin pulling at his lips.

“No! I just… I have something else planned for us, wanna get going?”

Ashton’s brows furrowed, nodding in response to your question.  He helped you to pack up the basket once more, leaning up to kiss his cheek in thanks as he finished the cleanup - shooing you away to the car.

Driving back, time seemed to move even slower, and Ashton seemed just as nervous.  Grabbing his hand to stop his nervous drumming, he let out a soft exhale.

“I hate not knowing what’s going on,” Ashton pouted, turning to give you his best puppy dog eyes in hopes that you may tell him. 

“Those gorgeous eyes may lure me in normally, but not tonight.  You’re gonna have to wait till we get back to my place.”

A soft huff escapes Ashton’s lips, a childlike pout on his lips as you continued on.  It wasn’t until you had made your way inside and picked up the Scrabble box and wiggled your eyebrows suggestively did Ashton’s face change.

“What’s with the face?”

“Told you I had plans for this later.  What if I asked you if you wanted to play strip Scrabble?” Your eyebrows raised suggestively once more.

Ashton’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, a small grin tugging at his lips as he looked from you to the box, “How long have you been plotting this, hm?”

The air in the room shifted, but you stepped closer to Ashton, setting the box aside, “You game or not?”

Ashton’s eyes dragged down your body, sending shivers down your spine, “You’re wearing a lot less clothes than me sweetheart.”

“Well, good thing I’m better at Scrabble than you, Boomer,” Your finger dragged down his chest, casually popping open the top button before Ashton swatted your hand away.

“That’s cheating, and how many times do I need to tell you m’not a fuckin’ boomer!”

You barely missed his playful swat moving past him so you could set up the board on the coffee table.  Ashton sat across from you, close enough so that your feet were brushing against one anothers. You were kind of unclear of the rules as far as specifics, but you knew  the basics of: who ever scored higher each turn, removed an article of clothing.

You had been doing well so far at beating Ashton, but of course he was being a tease about it - starting with his shoes one at a time, followed by his socks, and his belt.  He got you a couple of times, resulting in you losing your shoes, but you knew that your next thing to go would be your dress, having nothing else left to lose.

Without a thought, you had put down the word ‘cunning’, taking advantage of the triple letter score for the ‘U’, assuming Ashton wouldn’t have anything better so he’d finally be forced to remove his shirt.  What you weren’t expecting, though, is for Ashton to put down the letters L-I-N-G-U-S’.

“You know that’s not how it’s spelt right?” You asked, leaning your elbows against the couch with a smirk.

“We know the end goal, so I think you could let this one slip, hm? Lose the dress, kitten.”

Your mouth fell open with a soft gasp, the new nickname sending a thrill through your veins- but still, you couldn’t make it easy on him, “What’s in it for me if I let you have this?”

Ashton wasted no time sliding over to close the gap between the two of you, his thigh now brushing against yours.  His left hand reached across to trail feather-light touches up your thigh, “Want me to show you, or just tell you?”

This was a side of Ashton you hadn’t seen before, but the look in his eyes made your mouth dry, struggling to find the words to say.  You wanted to continue the banter, but your want for him far outweighed your need to be borderline bratty in that moment.

“Not so bold now are you, kitten?” Ashton hummed, brushing his nose across your neck, causing you to suck in a sharp breath.  “You gonna take this dress off or am I going to have to rip it? Would be a shame to ruin such a nice dress.”

You made a small attempt to catch your breath, but all attempts were thrown out the window as Ashton nipped your neck gently, causing you to squeak.  Moving your fingers to the bottom of your dress, you moved far too slow for Ashton’s liking, his hands coming to cover yours and pushing your dress up further until it was over your head.  

A slow smirk spread over his lips when his eyes landed on the matching black set you had put on, fingers gingerly tracing the patterns of the lace.

“Someone had big plans for tonight, hm?” Ashton motioned for you to get onto the couch, pushing the coffee table away from the two of you so he could have more space.  

When you sat up on the couch, you were suddenly very conscious, aware of the beautiful raven-haired man sitting on the floor in front of you, hazel eyes looking up at you with a hint of mischief playing in them.  What if he was disappointed?

Ashton didn’t give you much room to explore your insecurities, long fingers coaxing your legs apart.  You were expecting him to remove the underwear to get better access, but instead he began to rub at your core through the fabric, the friction of the lace making you arch into his touch.  His lips were busy marking the insides of your thighs, and you couldn’t help the sharp gasp that left your lips.

“Feel good?” He asked with a wink, applying more pressure against you.

“Yes,” You breathed, reaching down to run your fingers through his hair.

Without another word, Ashton lowered his head, closer and closer, until he finally began to suck right over your clit.  You had to cover your mouth to keep from screaming at the sudden change of pressure.  

“Shit Ash,” A soft moan was able to slip past your lips, your chest heaving already with him having hardly done anything - you knew you were fucked, literally and figuratively as you felt the pressure of his tongue moving against you.  “I can take these off if you wa--”

“You think you deserve it? After teasing me all night, kitten?” Ashton pulled away, bringing his fingers up to pull the fabric taught against you to get your attention, “Look at me when I’m speaking to you.”

The tone in his voice had your eyes snapping open in a second - maybe he wouldn’t be too weirded out at the idea that you’re alright being spit on.  You had a sense always that sex with Ashton would be good, but he’d already surpassed good in the very little he had done to you already. 

“I didn’t tease you,” You lied, finally meeting his eyes and licking your lips hastily.

Ashton narrowed his eyes, leaning his head against your thigh, “Would be sad if I had to stop here, love.  You wanna try that again? Try and tell me you weren’t flaunting that perfect ass in front of me, or the suggestive touches on our picnic, and the biggest offense of all the strip Scrabble.” He let out a soft laugh, rubbing his stubble against your thigh which raised goosebumps on your skin.

You knew you were beat - you were putty in his hands and all you wanted was for him to touch you more.  To feel his long fingers against you, in you even.  “I’m sorry for teasing you,” You said with a pout.

Your admittance brought his grin back, lifting his head off of your thigh and letting the fabric go, “You don’t get off that easy, but I guess I can forgive you.”

Ashton tugged the fabric just enough to expose your entrance, slipping a finger into you and bringing his lips back to your still covered clit.  You cursed under your breath, annoyed more than anything that he didn’t want to just take it off all together.  He added a second finger not long after the first, much to your satisfaction.  Ashton’s movements were working faster than they were before, more determined.  The friction and the feeling of his fingers sending you barreling towards the edge, fingers tangled in his hair.

He must have known that you were close, likely able to feel you, because he pulled away all at once, leaving you whimpering at the sudden loss of sensation.

“Ash, what the fu--”

“I said you’re not getting off that easy, kitten,” Ashton licked his lips, bringing his fingers to his mouth to clean them off. 

That image alone could have gotten you off, but you were excited to see what else he had in mind. 

Ashton stood from his previous position, holding out his hands to help you stand up, “We’re going to your bedroom, need more room than this.”

Chewing on your lip, you followed him as he led the way to your room, your breathing still laboured from being so close to the edge only a minute before.  When you both got to your room, Ashton let go of your hand so he could sit on the bed.

“Take the rest of your clothes off.”

“You’re still wearing more clothes than me, baby,” You said sweetly, trailing your finger down his chest, finger catching at the fabric where the remaining few buttons had been done up.

Ashton grabbed your wrist gently, looking up at you, “Did I stutter?”

This side of Ashton kept very pleasantly surprising you, and you kept it in the back of your mind to ask him later what he was in to - though you were already getting a sense of what that may be.

You stepped back from him, Ashton letting your wrist drop so you could strip.  Testing your limits, you made a show of it, fingers slipping the straps of your bra slowly down your arms, followed by reaching behind you to pretend like you were struggling to get it undone.  

Ashton made a sound of annoyance, letting you finish your teasing, thinking you were in control for even a split second.  When you were fully undressed, Ashton tugged on your hands, but he stopped you when you went to straddle his lap, instead settling his thigh in between your legs. 

“You really can’t resist teasing me, hm?” Ashton whispered against your ear, your body responding with a small shiver.  “You want to cum? Now you’re going to have to show me you deserve it.”

His hands guided your hips to move against his, and you quickly got the hint of what he wanted you to do.  Bracing your hands on his shoulders, you began to grind yourself against his thigh on your own, his hands moving to your thighs, a firm reminder that he could go back to moving your hips at a pace he chose.

“Please, Ash,” You whimpered, “The pressure is too much.  Want you…” Your head dropped into the crook of his neck, almost pathetically pressing down harder against his thigh.  “Need you.”

Your nails were digging into his shoulders, whimpering soft pleas into his ear.  You were trying to be good, in a way afraid Ashton would leave all together if you let yourself go and came just from his thigh, but it was getting increasingly more difficult to hold off.  

You were about to give up on trying to be good when Ashton’s hands gripped your hips, stopping your movements, earning him a grunt of frustration from you. 

“You’ve made quite the mess, kitten.  You wanna be fucked so bad you were ready to get off on my thigh alone.  Lay down on the bed.”

You obeyed, finally deciding your desire overruled your need for being a brat in that moment.  Laying back on the bed, you watched Ashton get undressed, pressing your thighs together when his eyes lifted to meet yours. 

“There are condoms in the drawer,” You managed to say, eyes never leaving Ashton’s body.

Nodding, it felt like it took forever for him to open the package and slide the condom on - but then again, maybe he was trying to tease you in the ways you had teased him earlier.  Making you wait to feel him was probably the worst punishment you could receive.

The bed dipped as he crawled onto it, hovering over you before pressing his lips to yours, “Ready love?”

Him going back and forth between ‘kitten’ and ‘love’ made you grin, tangling your fingers in his hair and bringing him back down for another deep kiss; you tried to push the feelings of butterflies bubbling in your stomach away when you finally nodded, waiting for Ashton to move to between your legs instead.

Even though minutes before he was teasing the fuck out of you, and you him, he was soft in that moment - the fact not lost on either of you that this was your first time having sex together, after all the build up to it the last couple of months.  Ashton took hold of himself, pressing against your entrance and sliding in slowly, his eyes shooting up to your face to make sure that you were alright.

He felt better than you could have ever imagined, filling you in all of the right ways.  You could tell that he was waiting for you to adjust, so you moving your hips against him encouraged him to move too.  Ashton’s thrusts started slow and steady, each drag of him against your walls pulling a moan from you. 

He used one of his hands to hike your leg up, the new angle causing him to go deeper, earning a new set of noises coming from your throat.  Ashton’s pace sped up, small grunts leaving his mouth, allowing his free hand to roam your body.  His hand settled on your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingertips.

You weren’t sure if it was the arousal coursing through your veins, or the fact that you felt somehow safe with Ashton, but you took his wrist and dragged it up to your throat, giving him a nod that it was okay.

His hips stuttered at the action, throwing him off of his rhythm a little bit, “Kitten’s got claws, does she?” Ashton squeezed gently, the restriction to your airway sending a new wave of thrill through your body.  

Ashton wasn’t sure if either of you could hold off any longer, and he was eager to see your face as you came apart beneath him.  He let your leg go so he could lean forward, whispering in your ear, “You wanna cum, kitten?”

“Yes… Please, daddy.”  The words were out of your mouth before you had a chance to even think about it, but it didn’t seem to affect Ashton, but rather encourage him.  His thrusts were sloppy, letting go of your neck to focus on his movements.

It took less than a minute before you were being sent over the edge, the sensation of being teased and edged aiding to what was quite possibly the most intense orgasm you had ever felt.  Ashton followed not too long after, his fingers holding your hips so tight you were certain to find bruises the next morning.

When he collapsed beside you, you immediately curled into his side while you tried to catch your breath.  Ashton wrapped his arms around you, pressing his lips to your forehead when he began to laugh. 

“What’s funny?” You asked, tilting your chin up to look at him.

“You somehow managed to get the triple letter score in the game, and got the triple word score just now.”

Smirking, you pressed your lips to his cheek, “What can I say? I don’t lose.”

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#ashton irwin #ashton irwin blurb #ashton irwin fanfiction #ashton irwin smut #5sos fanfiction

[crazy-loca-blog]

Personal thoughts on Open Heart, Book 2

Note: As the title says, these are just personal opinions on Choices books and chapters. Of course, you may agree or disagree with them, I only use this platform to express my thoughts on what I read every week and what I’d like to see in the next chapters, because none of my friends play Choices so I have no one to comment the books with.

It’s been a while since I started writing this post, I actually remember saying I would post it months ago. But then things escalated in such a negative way between some people, that I said “well, maybe it’s not the best moment to post this”. So now that the book will be back, I thought it might be a good time to revisit it.

Of course, as this was written before the second hiatus, it’s been done with the original plot in mind, and I don’t read spoilers and the book is supposedly being rewritten, it may be full of mistakes… it just took me so long to write it, that I don’t want it to go to waste! hahaha

I’ve read a lot of people complaining about the plot of Open Heart 2 being all over the place, and some people are worried about the “too many subplots” this book has. Well, sure, there might be A LOT going on in this book, but when you analyze what almost every character is going through (emphasis in “almost”), you’ll realize that they all have one thing in common: they’re all dealing with their past. Also, with a third book confirmed, I don’t think everything is going to find its closure in Book 2. But let’s analyze our gang (they are in alphabetic order, as usual):

Aurora Emery: This girl is so damaged that it hurts. She certainly had trust issues during college and she’s reliving them all over again. Of course, being Harper Emery’s niece is not easy when you go to medical school and become a doctor. Not only people have high expectations on your performance, they also want to be friends with you and you just don’t know if it’s because of your aunt or because they genuinely care about you. Tobias is not making things easier for her either (I’m so ready to punch this guy if he hurts her!), and our MC has been an ass to her lately as well. She truly needs to know there is a light at the end of the tunnel and I’m so waiting for the MC to have a chance to apologize because what they did was the stupidest thing I’ve seen them do so far.

Bryce Lahela: Even though I’m in love with this guy (I always say he’d be my BFF in real life), we knew since day 1 that he was hiding something. Well, it took us over a book to discover that his family has a very, very shady past that ended up affecting not only Bryce, but also his little sister Keiki. Of course, discovering that your parents are criminals when you’re a teenager mustn’t be easy, and Keiki escaping because she’s basically living the same hell as Bryce went through in the past has only made him relive some old feelings that he wanted to be forgotten. Now that the cat is out of the bag, I can only think of some healing process for him that will probably not have its closure in Book 2, but in Book 3.

Elijah Green: Our boy Elijah has always declared himself a “nerd”. So, it doesn’t surprise me at all the fact that he had problems making friends while growing up. Also, due to his condition and what we know about his past, I bet his parents were super overprotective, making things harder for him. That’s why he is having a hard time when trying to keep boundaries with Sothy, his intern. It doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be friends, not at all (not only Ines and Zaid consider the MC “a friend”, but my MC is romancing Ethan, soo…). But he certainly tries too hard to be accepted (and not judged) by his intern, to the point that it becomes a risk for them as doctors.  

Esme Ortega: Our new intern looks like she’s a tough girl, but it only took us one diamond scene to discover what’s behind her attitude. Her life has been hard and she’s basically facing the world alone since she was 14. Even though this apparently was a topic that was addressed and solved in the same scene, it’s very clear that she sees herself in her teen patient with leukemia. It’s very possible that her parents never told her that they were illegal immigrants, so she can’t stand lying to that kid. She knows how it feels. She knows he’s not a kid anymore and that his parents lying to him will only cause pain in the future. Hopefully we’ll be able to go deeper in her background during the rest of Book 2 or in Book 3.

Ethan Ramsey: Ethan is facing not only one, but two conflicts. The first one is a personal one: his mom left him and Alan (his dad) 25 years ago. Now she is suddenly back in their lives for some reason that we still need to figure out. Ethan believes she’s back because she needs money, and he might be right. There is also this idea that she’s actually sick and she needs Ethan’s help. This could also be pretty accurate. I actually think it’s something in between (maybe some stepbrother or stepsister he doesn’t know about needs medical care but they can’t afford it). The other one is professional: with the money problems in Edenbrook, he’s feeling all the pressure of having to make a choice between attending rich people who can afford their full treatments and being loyal to Naveen’s original purpose when he created the team (that is, to care about people who can’t afford their treatments). My thought is that, in the end, both his family issues and his career in the diagnostics team will be crossed and that this will become a turning point in the book (because yes, we still don’t have that “huge case” as we did have with Naveen’s case in Book 1).

Jackie Varma: Jackie’s issue actually hits home. College debts are a huge issue in my country, and I can tell almost every single one of my classmates is facing them now, even though we graduated a long time ago. It’s pretty common to see families struggling to help their kids to attend university and you can’t imagine how grateful I am that my hard work paid off and got me a scholarship that relieved that burden at home. So I can totally see Jackie in this situation: coming from a low income family who didn’t only become a doctor because she loves it, but also because she saw it as a chance to give her family a better life… and this isn’t happening right now. But she is actually doing something about it already, so she’ll probably be the first one to have her “burden from the past issue” solved, she just seems to need that raise that all residents are supposed to get… at least for now.

Rafael Aveiro: Our Rafael (who’s not going to die and who still is a LI in my opinion) surprised us when he introduced us to his significant other, Sora. I mean… what happened in that two-month period between Book 1 and Book 2? This is one of those times when I desperately need a diamond scene for him to explain everything. Because it doesn’t matter if he is your LI or not, he doesn’t seem convinced about this “new” relationship and you can’t change my mind. Also, the fact that he’s been taking more risks than usual is giving me some weird vibes (maybe he’s depressed and he’s been hiding it?). I’m pretty sure there’s something we don’t know yet… and I’m pretty sure that his conflict at the end of the book (if he is your LI) will be to decide between “staying in the past” (with Sora) and “moving into the future” (with the MC).

Sienna Trinh: Our sweetheart has had little screen time in this book, but that time has been enough to realize she’s having some serious issues, to the point that some people think she’s the one who’ll be dying because of how depressed she shows herself. We all remember that Sienna used to have a boyfriend certain specimen in her life, and how she dumped him in Book 1. Well, toxic relationships are not limited to love life, and that’s the case with her. She’s been repeating all the same patterns with her new resident, Mitch. He manipulates her and he’s basically abusing of her good will… just like certain ***hole she used to date it in the past.

Kyra Santana: I did leave Kyra for the end on purpose. Since the end of Book 1 I’ve been saying that she has to die at some point of the series, basically because we must be realistic here guys and we can’t be in denial: no matter how much we love her, our girl only has 10% chances of surviving cancer and before the hiatus, things were getting worse for her. Based on this… have you noticed how Kyra is the only character in the series (besides our MC) who’s not carrying some burden from her past? Instead, she just lives the present and she barely mentions her future, except in two cases: when she’s talking to the MC about her job interview, and when she says that her treatment “soon will be over”. To me, THIS SPEAK VOLUMES, GUYS!

#playchoices #choices stories you play #open heart #choices open heart #open heart choices #casey valentine #aurora emery #bryce lahela #esme ortega #ethan ramsey #elijah greene #jackie varma #rafael aveiro #sienna trinh #kyra santana #naveen banerji #harper emery #edenbrook #tobias carrick #open heart 2 #open heart second year

[threeletterslife]

01 | Over the Moon

→ next chapter

→ summary: You feel isolated in the vast American country with no one but your older brother and your six rowdy friends to keep you company. But when they disappear without a trace, you're left with nothing. Nothing until you become dragged into the world of the mob. The mafia world promises glory, fame and big bucks. But that comes with backstabbing, pain, regret and vengeance behind the veils. You're not ready for that alone. Are you?

→ genre: 85% angst, 15% fluff | mafia!au

→ warnings: profanity, death, graphic depictions of murder/torture, mourning, drinking

→ wordcount: 11.6k

The whiteness of the room is blinding. The lights above are almost excruciating. But most of all, the silence is deafening. As if there's nothing alive and breathing in the room.

But there is.

The only visible signs of life are six men dressed clad in shades ranging from deep blue to black. They are standing completely motionless, but their faces are contorted with all kinds of emotions. Their expressions speak in anger, frustration and exasperation.

Some of them are panting quietly for breath—sounds that can only be heard if you have a sharp hearing. Others have perspiration dripping down their brows—none of them make a move to wipe it off. All are stiff in stance, glaring at one another through their cold, unnerving eyes.

There's no doubt about it—tension is in the air.

One man shifts his weight from his left foot to right. He clears his throat, straightening out his crisp, black suit in the process. "That's enough."

The tension is sliced in half. Chaos chases out the silence.

"What do you mean it's enough? I stand by my original opinion, and I'm not allowing the rest of you to distort it in any way."

"But it is enough, Namjoon. Sit down, will you? All of you."

There's the loud rustling of the men's slacks as they obediently take their seats. One man stays standing; he radiates power and dominance in his aura, staring down at those seated below him.

"I still don't think it's right, Boss," Namjoon tries again. "He wouldn't have wanted this at all." Namjoon wipes the excess sweat off his brow, shaking his head in disdain. He's in the spotlight, daring to voice his thoughts. "Granted, he wouldn't have wanted to die either, but look how things turned out."

"You're wrong, Namjoon," another man scoffs. He crosses his legs and glares at Namjoon. "He did want it. He said it in his goddamn will! Stop arguing with Jin, because frankly, he's the boss, not you!"

"Calm down, Hoseok," Seokjin sighs, shifting his weight on his other foot. "You are to address your superiors by their titles..." he trails off, brows furrowing as he becomes immersed in his thoughts.

"Fine," Hoseok huffs. "Underboss, I frankly think it's right to follow the exact words of his will. Why would he bother to write a will if we don't even heed to it?"

"Hoseok," Namjoon groans in frustration, "we need to interpret the will accordingly. I just don't think taking things too literally will help us. Yoongi? Some help here."

The man who had been leaning back casually in his chair coughs in surprise. "You were doing just fine," he mutters. "I think the underboss is right," Yoongi sighs. "We need to be pragmatic about this—"

"You and your fucking pragmatics," Hoseok spits out. "Let's face it. You two are the only ones with different opinions. Majority rules."

Yoongi doesn't answer. He suddenly takes a disinterest in the conversation and sinks back into his seat, refusing to speak. Namjoon takes the action as a sign to start his defense. "Jungkook and Taehyung barely count," he scoffs. "Jungkook follows everything Taehyung does and Taehyung follows everything the boss says—"

"Hey!" Taehyung yells, suddenly standing up from his seat. "You trying to call me and JK fucking backboneless?"

"I still think our opinions matter..." Jungkook frowns. "Boss?" He looks toward Seokjin for help, but Jin doesn't answer, lost in his own thoughts.

"I'm just saying what we're trying to do is obviously wrong," Namjoon argues.

"And you call yourself a lawyer?" Taehyung laughs scornfully. "Don't you think it's too fucking late to say what's right or wrong?"

"Show some respect to your underboss," Yoongi scolds. "And it's funny you're trying to talk morals, Taehyung. Need I remind you of your own sadistic antics?"

"Fuck you!"

"Let's not be so vulgar," Yoongi retorts.

"You know what? In the end, it's up to the boss to make the executive decision," Namjoon says, quirking his brow at an obviously fuming Hoseok and Taehyung. "So I suggest we all shut up and listen."

All eyes are on Seokjin, now, waiting for him to say something, anything. The man sighs, finally sitting down at his seat. He scans the eyes of the other men in the room, his own eyes cold and calculating.

"I say majority's right, this time," Seokjin declares. "We're down one man, morale is low and we need to fill the gap. If she's smart enough... as smart as him, we'll be in good hands."

"And if she isn't? We're putting a lot at risk," Namjoon says.

"The only risk we're putting in is the detrimental effect it'll have on your mentality," Jin replies. "You don't want her here because she'll remind you of him. You can't bear to have anyone that reminds you of him walking around our halls. I understand and respect that, Joon—" he takes a small breath "—but we need her help... As much as she needs our help."

"And how do you know she needs our help?" Yoongi challenges.

"Her brother's dead, and she doesn't even know."

Unemployment is the best and worst thing that's ever happened to you. Sure, you have no idea how you're going to spark the start of your career or how you're going to explain to your parents why your economics degree isn't paying off student debt. But you also have all the time in the world. All the time in the world to binge-watch your favorite TV shows, that is.

If your parents were here, you'd probably hear an earful from them. The "why can't you be more like your older brother?" type of shit. But the thing is, jokes on them, your brother's literally been MIA for a good six years now.

In fact, you've been covering for his poor ass ever since he decided to drop out of his prestigious college. (Which your parents still have yet to find out about.)

But you suspect they might never find out. First off, your parents are more than 6,000 miles away from you and your brother, so the only earful you get from them is on the phone. Second, they're calling less and less these days. Ever since you and your brother turned eighteen, they've been more lenient, suspecting both of you were CEO's of prospering law firms or hospitals. Third, you're a nasty good liar, something your brother had taught you very well.

You kind of miss him. He's the only blood relative you have in this country, anyway. Your parents are 6,563 miles away in South Korea, while you're stuck in the oh-so-jolly United States of America with your brother.

Then again, he was supposed to protect you, to care for you, ever since he and you had moved to California with your parent's best wishes for both of you to strive for a spectacular education. But to give him a bit of credit, your brother had been by your side since you were in seventh grade to your senior year in high school. And to give him even more (possibly undeserving) credit, he'd helpfully guided your hormonal thirteen-year-old self into the delights of American society when he was only fourteen, himself.

But he ditched you nevertheless, and you're all alone.

Well, you weren't completely alone, you suppose. Sure, your host family was okay, but they had never understood the perils of your teenage angst like your brother had. And besides, it's nearly been six years since you've moved out of your host family's home. You're truly alone now. With no one but sweet Netflix to solace you and coax you to wake up to a new day.

You and your brother are probably the biggest disappointments to your parents, ever. Technically, this time, your brother's the bigger disappointment (for once) because at least you got your master's degree in economics. Your brother never even showed up to his first college class.

God knows where the fuck that man is.

Sure, he always sends you ungodly amounts of money every month—you suspect he's made himself a goddamn CEO of some obscure company—but you would very much rather have his presence than his money.

As much as you're bitter from his unexplained absence in your life, you still desperately want to be in contact again. And he did help you find your passion for economics in the first place.

It's funny because you always thought your brother would hit it big and become some world-wide famous brain surgeon; he'd always been the smarter one of the two of you. Well, your brother was smart, but he definitely wasn't smart enough to control his stupid infatuation with the mafia. And once your brother becomes passionate, there's no fucking way out.

The last you remember, he had been conducting intense research about the most notorious mafia bosses of the 1900s. One time, he'd made you memorize all the positions in the original Italian mafia—you'd given up after he tried to make you spell out 'consigliere.' Another time, between the summer of his high school junior year and senior year, he'd tried to convince your host family to fund his “educational, enlightening and beneficial' trip to Sicily, where 'the original mafia was founded.' ” His words, not yours.

He was insane, that brother of yours.

The worst part was that somehow he'd managed to find friends that would help fuel his idiotic passion for the mafia. Damn his excellent social skills (that you very much lack). Honestly, if you had his brain, you would've definitely not wasted it on researching deadly gangs.

But his friends became your friends and that was that. Except they had all left you in pursuit of something that definitely wasn't education.

At this point, you wouldn't be surprised if your brother disappeared only to continue his crazed mafia research with his best friends. Maybe he's lying undercover somewhere like the total goof that he is, trying to sniff out LA's most notorious criminal gangs. It's a thought that makes you scoff every time.

He should be twenty-four right now, just a year older than you. He should still be in school, getting the proper education you and your parents expected him to get. But noooo, he just had to go off to do his own thing. And now you're left to make excuses for him on the phone.

Last week was your mother's birthday, and when she asked you where the hell your brother was, you had to make up some intricate lie that he had to attend a doctor conference.

Whatever. At least that dumb bastard sends you a generous monthly allowance. You have better problems than to scrounge around looking for your brother—who, you may politely add, is a grown-ass man.

You're twenty-three, unemployed, single as fuck and lost in this vast nation of supposed opportunity. You need to find out what to do with yourself first before looking for your brother. In fact, you should probably stop watching Netflix this instant.

You should probably get dressed and get out there to greet the world with your unemployed status in hopes of landing a stable job your parents would approve of.

And so, as a woman of your word, you do just that.

You're in the middle of looking for your purse when someone knocks on the flimsy door to your apartment.

Weird. You don't usually get visitors.

Ditching the effort to find your purse, you stumble over to the door, trying to peek out of a small hole you've been telling yourself you had to fix for the past three months. But that attempt is futile. The hole that you had always convinced yourself was noticeably large was obviously not large enough for you to discern anything on the other side of that damn door.

You sigh. If it's some murderer out in the middle of the day ready to stab me to death, at least I won't have to pay off my damned student debt.

But you digress. When you open the door, to your slight disappointment, you don't see a murderer. In fact, you see two people—two vaguely familiar people.

"Jungkook? Taehyung?"

"Hey, Y/N," Taehyung smiles.

"Hi." Jungkook waves shyly from behind his friend.

You stare at them, shellshocked and frozen. You haven't seen Jungkook and Taehyung since your brother decided to jump out of your life. They are the subject of vague memories of laughter and good times shared that you'd pushed to the back of your mind as time passed.

You figured Jimin's decision to quit college had something to do with his friends. And now here they were.

"Is Jimin with you?" you ask, unamused and definitely not returning the friendly smiles.

"Ah, that would be a no... Well, as of now, no, at least." Taehyung shrugs. "We've actually been looking for you."

"Oh?" You raise your eyebrows. "Really? Because I've been looking for you. Well, not you, but um my brother actually. Park Jimin? I hope you've heard of him."

Jungkook chuckles softly. "Haven't changed much, huh?"

"I guess." You cock your head, brows furrowing as you think. "So... do you want to come in?"

"Sure!" Taehyung grins, marching right into your humble abode with Jungkook right by his heels. "Nice place, by the way," he comments, looking around at your rather neatly organized living room.

"Thanks," you mutter, closing the door. Taehyung and Jungkook have already made themselves at home on your couch. "So... did my brother set you up to do this? He usually sends letters when he mails me the monthly allowance, but that lazy ass hasn't even been doing that these days... Is he busy?"

Taehyung chuckles, shaking his head. "Jumping right to the chase, huh? Not even a hello? Or a 'how are you doing, Taehyung?' C'mon, don't you miss us? We hung out a lot as kids, remember? The whole lot of us. Right, JK?"

"Right, Tae."

You let out an exasperated sigh. "All of you left me."

"We're sorry," Jungkook replies almost immediately. "We didn't mean to ditch you or anything..."

"Yeah? Well, that's exactly what you did," you say. "Just... Where the fuck is Jimin?"

"Damn since when did you fucking cuss?" Taehyung snorts and not to mention totally ignores your question. "Has it really been that long?"

"Answer my question, Kim Taehyung."

The man raises his eyebrows but speaks. "He's not here, Y/N," Taehyung sighs. "Um... but, it looks like you're doing fine without him, you know? Lookin' good." He grins goofily, saluting to you, but you're unamused yet again.

"Why are you guys even here? I honestly could've sworn you were dead just by how MIA you were."

"Ah... that's..." Jungkook looks down at his feet.

"It's about Jimin, actually," Taehyung blurts out, standing up.

"Oh, lord," you mumble. "What kind of trouble is he in, this time? Do I need to bail him out of jail?"

"Listen," Taehyung says. He stands up, his previous silly demeanor replaced with a serious one. "We... Well, you have to come with us."

You raise an eyebrow. "Just because I was friends with you six years prior doesn't mean I'll spontaneously follow you to wherever."

"But Jimin's waiting for you!" Taehyung exclaims. "Don't you want to see your brother?"

"Well, of course... but—"

"Listen, sweetheart," Taehyung sighs. "You—"

"No, YOU, listen," you interject, raising up your hand. "You can't just expect me to waltz back into my brother's life again. He... well, all of you, ditched me for a reason. I don't know what happened for all of you to change your minds but..." You sigh. "Besides, if Jimin's waiting for me, why didn't he come himself?"

"He's not in the best condition, you know? He's gone down with some cold, and we don't want him to get worse now, do we?" Taehyung says. "We know it's been six years, Y/N. Don't you think that's all the more reason to come visit us? We've missed you, after all."

"Just one, small, quick trip to our house," Jungkook says, fidgeting with his hands. "You'll meet everyone else there! It'll be like a reunion."

You blow air out through your nose. "Like the old days," you mumble.

"Like the old days!" Taehyung exclaims.

"Jimin's not in the best condition, huh? He was always so susceptible to the weakest of viruses," you shake your head. "And you guys have been living together without me? Some kind of family."

"We didn't want to bother your studies," Jungkook says. "Jimin, Taehyung and I all dropped out of college, and Jimin didn't want to become a bad influence on you."

"Right..." you say, eyebrows crinkling in thought.

"But you've graduated, right?" Taehyung asks.

"Right."

"So come and visit us!"

You tilt your head sideways, staring into Jungkook and Taehyung's eyes until Jungkook looks away. You and Taehyung have the longest staring contest before you blink first. "I'm not going to contract whatever Jimin has, right?"

Taehyung grins. "I hope not."

"Fine." You sigh, rubbing your forehead. It can't hurt to visit your long lost brother. Maybe you can give him an earful and convince him to contact your parents. Maybe you can convince him to stop pushing you away? "I'll go."

Jungkook and Taehyung look as genuine as they did back when you had been close friends with them. And besides, if they wanted to murder you for whatever reason, they would've already done it. So you shrug and walk towards the front door. The purse you'd been looking for catches your eye; it had been wedged between some dirty old shoes. Picking it up, you turn to Jungkook and Taehyung. "We're not going to walk, are we?"

"Of course not," Taehyung snorts, catching up to you and opening the door for you as you walk out. "See that car over there? The nice, red sports car?"

"Yeah, is yours the minivan behind it?" you genuinely ask.

Jungkook giggles. "Actually, the red sports car is ours."

"What?" you deadpan. Dropped out of college, my ass.

"Well..." Taehyung snorts, helping you down your own steps. You protest by swatting his hand away, but he insists and persists. "Namjoon, Jin, Hoseok and Yoongi make the big bucks."

"Really?"

Jungkook opens the shotgun car door for you. "Yeah! Here, you can take the shotgun seat while Taehyung drives it responsibly back. No speeding, there's a lady present."

You snort, sliding into the nice leather seat. "Thanks."

"No problem," Taehyung grins, making himself comfortable in his own driver's seat as Jungkook takes the back for himself. "It'll be a forty-minute drive, so we better get all comfortable here."

"Um, yeah. I can think of several questions on the spot," you say, strapping yourself in just in time before Taehyung speeds off.

"Ask away!" Taehyung chirps.

"First off, what on earth do you guys do to afford this kind of car? Shouldn't some of you be drowning in student debt?"

"Namjoon's a lawyer," Jungkook pipes in. "Hoseok's a surgeon, Yoongi's an anesthesiologist and Jin's a head chef at some famous place he owns."

"Talk about successful..." you trail off. "What about everyone else?"

"Eh, school's disgusting," Taehyung chuckles. "I'm a waiter at Seokjin's restaurant and JK here's a cop."

"But that's better than being unemployed, though," you sigh. "What's Jimin been up to?"

"He's a bartender," Taehyung says. "Got pretty damn good at it too."

"Bartending, huh? Never really thought he'd be into that. Last time I saw him, he was obsessed with the mafia. Guess it's bartending now, huh?"

Jungkook laughs. "Yeah, I guess."

The conversation flows nicely after that. You ask question after question and Jungkook and Taehyung give you answer after answer. And by the end of the forty-minute drive, it's as if they never left you. You had been the closest to them in your childhood, anyway. You almost forgot how good it feels to have quality talks with your childhood friends. In fact, you kinda forgot what it's like to have a friend, so this was a nice change.

"Hey, we're here," Taehyung smiles. "Home sweet home."

"We're in front of a wall," you deadpan as Jungkook snickers in the backseat.

"It's a gate, silly," Taehyung snorts. "Just gotta punch in a code..." His fingers move lightning fast across a keypad, and suddenly the wall is separating, creating a small space for the fancy car to drive right through.

Your mouth drops open when you see the house, er, mansion, that's before you. "That's your house?"

"Home sweet home," Taehyung chuckles. He parks the car in front of the elaborate steps that lead to a large, white door. "Hold on," he tells you as he hurriedly gets out only to open the car door for you on the other side.

"Thanks." You get out of the car, unable to take your eyes off of the beautiful mansion. "I've been missing out..."

"You have," Jungkook grins teasingly.

"C'mon, everyone's waiting inside!" Taehyung calls from the top step. God knows when he'd sprinted up those stairs.

A sudden wave of relief crashes over you. It's been six years. Six fucking years. Now you can finally see your brother. You don't like to admit it. You rarely end up admitting it. In fact, you don't think you've ever admitted it.

But you look up to your older brother with all your heart. And you're more than elated to see him again for the first time in half a dozen years.

The moment Taehyung opens the grand, wide doors to the even more grandiose mansion, you sprint in without a moment of hesitation.

You're greeted by white marble floors, a crystal chandelier and an occupied glass dining table. Four familiar faces stare at your excited self. They've grown. The boys you practically grew up with, that is. Their faces becoming sharper, highlighting their features and their once wide, childish eyes, squinted and emotionless... Something about the way they sit elegantly on the dining chairs sets you off. And you can't really pinpoint what.

There's Seokjin with a new hairstyle that makes him look like a rich billionaire (and judging by the mansion you might even be right on your judgment). Then there's Namjoon who's lost all of his baby fat, his eyebrows creased slightly and his legs crossed casually. Hoseok's dressed to the nines, gold rings encompassing his fingers. Even Yoongi too... The kid who had used to be shy and awkward looks like he could murder a man with his gaze alone.

Your smile drops as you realize the person you wanted to see the most is missing from the mix.

"Where's Jimin? Is he in bed?"

Hoseok gives you a strange look before turning to Taehyung. "What did you tell her?"

That one little question makes your heart drop. You should've known Taehyung spits out lies easier than he blinks. You should've called him out on his bullshit the moment you had doubts.

Jungkook gives you a nervous look before he pushes out one of the dining chairs for you. You frown, looking between Jungkook and the chair incredulously.

"Please, Y/N, it's been a while. Sit down, make yourself comfortable," Seokjin soothes. "Everything will make sense soon." He gestures for you to take the empty chair, which was conveniently placed between his seat and Namjoon's.

You raise your eyebrows. "Jin? What...? What's going on? Joon?" you question, turning your eyes to the man who had known your brother the best. Namjoon averts his eyes, leaving you stranded in your own confusion.

"You didn't tell her anything?" Yoongi sighs. "The truth, I mean?"

"Why would we?" Taehyung defends sharply. But when Hoseok glares daggers into his head, Taehyung looks down at his feet.

It chills your blood to see your old-time friends like this. Cold, distant... serious. When you were younger, there wasn't a hint of tension at all between the eight of you. Now tension is all you see.

"Jungkook, fetch the document, please," Jin sighs, running a hand through his otherwise well-combed hair. "How have you been, Y/N? Getting by? Jimin always made sure to send you some money..." he trails off, giving you a small smile.

You watch as Jungkook scampers off, like a dog with his tail between his legs. Something just wasn't right.

"Y/N?" Jin asks, softly.

"Taehyung said Jimin's sick," you stupidly say. "I hope you guys haven't been condoning him to get in trouble."

"Not even a 'hello,'" Jin chuckles.

"Where is he?" you demand. You're getting a bad gut feeling and your eyes fleetingly glance at the doors behind you.

Jin notices your hesitation, smiling at you warmly. "Hey... hey, I'm still the same Seokjin you knew... You're safe here, Y/N."

"What do you mean, safe?" you accuse. "Are you implying that I wasn't safe before?"

"You sure ask a lot of questions," Hoseok snorts.

"Let the girl ask. She's confused, can't you see?" Namjoon bites back. "Things will make sense in a bit, all right?"

"Why doesn't it make sense now?"

Jin smiles patiently. "You see... it's a bit... complicated, Y/N. But we promise you, you'll be safe."

"Safe from what? Is Jimin that sick? Is he in the hospital? Shouldn't we go there right n—"

A document falls on the table, right in front of your seat, shutting you up. You freeze when you catch sight of the text.

"What is this?" you ask in a tiny voice as your body suddenly becomes cold. You laugh nervously and with shaky hands, you bring the document closer to you to inspect it. To see if your eyes weren't fooling you. "You're pulling my leg. This isn't what I think it is."

"Oh but it is," Hoseok sighs.

"Shut up," Namjoon commands. "Y/N... I'm sorry."

"W-What do you mean?" you breathe. "You expect me to believe this? This is bullshit. What do you mean you're sorry?"

Deny it. That's it. Be in denial. There can't be one single reason that that's true.

But the letters don't lie. You can't look away from the writing in a large, clear font, scrawled across the very top of the document. Last Will & Testament of Park Jimin.

Someone puts a warm hand on your shoulder, trying to comfort you. "Please, read the will first," Jin says. "We'll explain everything. I'm sorry, Y/N. We all are..."

You clear your obviously dry throat. "No," you say as clearly as you can though you notice the hesitation and inconsistency in your voice. "You can't expect me to believe this. If you're going to play games with me, I'll get going. I didn't come here for a prank. I actually came here to see my brother."

You're about to push your chair away to stand up, but someone places a hand on the back of it, obstructing you from leaving. You look up to glare at this rude someone only to see Jungkook. He gives you an apologetic glance before moving to block your view to the entrance entirely.

"Let me go," you say through gritted teeth.

Seokjin shakes his head before looking you dead in the eyes. "Y/N... We're sorry."

You scoff, shaking your head. "Sorry that you don't know where my brother is too? You didn't have to cover it with his fake death."

"Are you stupid? You must be an idiot!" Hoseok sighs in exasperation. He taps his fingers impatiently on the table. "I'm done playing with your denial game. Face it. Your brother's dead, Y/N. Read his goddamn will before I lose my patience and read it out for you."

You stare blankly at Hoseok. "Dead?"

"Hoseok," Seokjin warns. "Y/N... I know you may have your doubts, but you have to trust us. That document... Jimin would've wanted you to read it."

"Stop," you command. The room spins and frankly, you feel a bit sick. "Stop acting like he's already dead. There's just... there's no way. He's twenty-four! He can't be dead now." You run your hands through your hair, feeling distressed and out of your mind. "He never even said goodbye to me..." you mutter. "He would've said goodbye." You shake your head. Tears that you didn't even know were there start to drip down your face. "I don't believe any of this."

"We can show you the body if you'd like," Hoseok shrugs. "But we don't want to do that now, do we?"

"You're serious."

"We wish we weren't, Y/N... We're sorry," Jin says. And he does look really apologetic. "Please... just read the will, and I promise I'll explain the rest to the best of my ability."

You're completely shell-shocked to silence.

There's no way he's dead. If he had been terminal or something, he would've said... He should've said something in his letters. It's not possible. I haven't seen him in person for six years. It can't end like that. And to hear this from his best friends?

Taehyung puts a comforting hand on your shoulder, tugging the will closer to you. He slowly picks it up, helping you grip onto the single piece of paper. At that moment, you come so close to ripping it apart to shreds. That damn will was the only solid proof you had of your brother's death. No will? No death.

But you know things don't work as linearly as that.

"You might have doubts, Y/N. And I understand," Seokjin soothes. "I know how hard it is to be on the receiving end of news like this. And I get that you haven't seen Jimin in years. You might even feel like you can't feel a difference when he was alive and when he's gone... I know that might scare you at the moment. And I know that's pushing you into denial, Y/N. But we brought you here for a reason... So, please. Give us another chance and read the will. Your brother would've wanted that. Most of what's on there is for you, anyway."

You feel numb. And you hate it. You hate that Seokjin's right. Jimin could've died a year ago, and you wouldn't have known; you wouldn't have felt a difference. Apparently, Jimin's dead now, and you still can't seem to bring yourself to fall to the floor and grieve like you mean it. You just feel twisted inside. Like you drank a glass of spoiled milk. But you can't seem to grasp the concept of your brother's apparent death. How can you when he was basically dead to you for six years? What difference did it make? He never contacted you anyway. If he really was dead, you wouldn't feel a difference at all.

God. You hate yourself for thinking about these things.

At this point, the sad, confused, frustrated and angry tears blind your vision, but you're able to make out the image of someone reaching across the table to hand you a tissue. You accept it gladly, wiping the tears with the best of your ability. Looking up, you see Yoongi, his stare completely blank and his hands holding out the tissue box for you. "Thank you..." you whisper, taking a deep breath to steady yourself.

Then you finally let your eyes gravitate to the document. You've been gripping it so hard with your sweaty, shaky hands that the once clean, straight paper is slightly crumpled and damp. But that's the least of your problems.

Besides the printed title, the rest of the will is even in his handwriting. The scrawl is neat and in slight cursive—you can recognize Jimin's writing anywhere.

Your wet eyes take in every word your brother etched onto the paper with black ink. It's strange to read something so solemn, so straightforward from your lively, passionate brother. The will isn't long, but you take the time to reread every sentence, mulling over every word.

It isn't much, actually. Just states who gets what... And it seems like you've inherited everything he owned. Which, contrary to the mansion he lived in, wasn't much.

Unreal. This whole situation feels like a nightmare. And maybe you are asleep, and your mind is playing your greatest worries against you? You're praying to wake up any second.

But you never wake up, and the nightmare drowns you deeper as you come across the next line in the will:

If, by somewhat likely chances, I was murdered, I trust that Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok, Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook will take care of Park Y/N in their home; if my death was through natural causes, the following men should quietly send Y/N her inheritance.

You reread the sentence again. Then again. And again. You pull the paper closer to your eyes, hands shaking as you do so.

Maybe I misread it. Maybe I...

But you hadn't misread it. The line stays the same as your eyes painfully cross it every time, a part of you breaking off and withering away by each glance.

You feel dull. Shocked, yes, but already numb. Your thoughts are a jumbled up mess. There are so many questions, but you can't make out coherent words. Such a shame... You usually always know what to say.

If... If my brother had died through 'natural causes,' which I'm guessing pertains to illnesses... then I wouldn't be here. I would've gotten my inheritance with no strings attached. The fact that I'm here... Murder? My brother thought it was a somewhat likely chance that he would be murdered??

It's so crazy that there's no way anyone would be making it up. You can feel the shadow of doubt limping away. And what's left makes you feel more vulnerable than ever. Being able to read that will too... It was like an eye-opener. A call to you that Jimin was really dead. Whether you believe it or not.

"You need explanations, huh?" Seokjin sighs, nodding. He puts a warm, comforting hand on top of yours, but you're so cold, so far gone, you can barely even feel it. "Hey, hey..." he says softly. "Y/N?"

You're nodding through tears. "I don't know what to believe," you finally admit in defeat. "I don't even know why I'm crying. I'm just confused."

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I understand. It's a lot to take in. And..." he hesitates. "It's going to be a lot more to take in as well..." He looks at you cautiously to see how you're coping. And you seem to be doing better than he had expected because he continues on. "I need you to listen to me very closely and not let doubt or denial of any sort to block me out, alright?"

Seokjin rubs soft circles into the back of your hand as you nod very slowly. Yoongi hands you another tissue. (Almost as if he was preparing you for a huge breakdown.)

"Listen, I'm going to be very frank," Jin says.

He's treading water, you notice.

"You've heard of the gangs around LA, right?"

You frown. "What?" That was the last thing you expected to come out of Seokjin's mouth. Though a bit bewildered, you nod. "Of course I have. The brutal murders, the shootings, the stupid territory fist fights..." You trail off when the realization hits you. "J-Jimin... He... He didn't mess with them, did he?"

Your heart sinks in your chest when Jin doesn't answer right away.

"He was always so obsessed with the mafia. He didn't just follow them and get in trouble, did he? He's not that stupid, right? Please, Jin, please say something. Tell me that isn't true." You sound pathetic even to yourself, but you can't help it.

Now it seems believable. It's entirely conceivable that your brother had been murdered by some malicious gang members for sticking his nose in their business. And you don't know what to make of this new information.

"Well," Jin sighs. He softly grabs your hand, and his warmth makes you feel just a little bit calmer. "It's partly true..."

"God," you groan, pulling your hands away from his and burying your face into them.

"We're in a gang, actually."

The spoken sentence shatters you. "Come again?"

"We're the mafia, Y/N. Your brother... all of us."

It sounds so preposterous, you almost scoff. But you don't. Jin had told you to trust him, and insanely enough, you were instinctively doing just that. Besides, the more you think about it, the more it makes sense. God, it explains so much. And the color drains from your face as everything clicks. That would explain the ungodly amounts of money Jimin had sent every month. That would explain the mansion. The crazy good jobs half of them are holding despite being so young. It would explain why your seven best friends had left you—probably on Jimin's account because he definitely wouldn't have wanted you to be affected. It even explains why these six men in front of you aren't anything like the six boys you had spent your childhood with. Why they look so cold, ruthless... intimidating.

And you thought you were dragged here to see your brother. Ironic.

"How seriously are you involved?" you ask carefully.

"Seriously enough," Namjoon answers. "Seriously enough for it to kill your brother, that is."

You frown at that. "I feel obligated to believe all of this," you sigh. "I don't want to believe any of it too—"

"Do you really think we'd be lying?" Hoseok sighs.

"What else would you think?" you bite back. "I think I have every right to be incredulous at the moment."

"Of course you have every right to be 'incredulous,'" Hoseok says. "But you'd better save it for later. See, honey, we're the mafia. One of the many affluent gangs in this city, you understand? Two and a half days ago, your brother was murdered by an enemy gang member or two, and we have yet to figure out which gang and who in the gang..." He sighs deeply, raising an eyebrow at you. "We've recovered the body, but I don't think you'll recognize it anyway... That doesn't matter. What does is that your brother wants you to join us now that he's dead. Living in this house would mean your blood is with us."

You feel tipsy again. Dizzy. Nauseous. Numb.

"You ruined everything," Namjoon accuses, glaring at Hoseok.

You steady yourself by gripping the edge of your chair. "I think I need to leave," you finally say after a long pause.

Just walk away. Pretend as if nothing happened. Maybe in due time, you'll forget everything that had just unfolded in this room.

"Ohh, you wouldn't want to do that, sweetheart," Taehyung murmurs.

You raise a challenging eyebrow at him. "I can do what I want. Need I remind you that all of you kept me in the dark for years. And the moment you need me, you decide to call me over for whatever reason despite the fact that I don't want to be involved at all. And if all of this is true, that also means you let Jimin get murdered. I'm not going to join your gang—if it even exists. I'm out."

You force your chair back, nearly stepping on Jungkook's toes as you stumble away from the crystal table. Muttering a quick apology to the sad-looking man, you quickly turn on your heels before making a dash to the exit.

Just as you're about to heave the large doors open, a loud voice commands you to stop. And you do, just for a little while, meeting Hoseok's eyes. "I'm going to walk away like this never happened. I'd appreciate it if I'm never contacted again."

Hoseok scoffs. "Not a good choice. The moment you leave those doors and walk out of our territory, you're in danger. Do you really want to die as painfully as he did?"

"Hoseok..." Seokjin warns.

But Hoseok pays no mind, rolling his eyes. "It looks like they jumped him while he was unsuspecting."

You freeze.

"He had no weapons on him. We checked. Completely defenseless. They duct-taped his arms and legs together like a helpless animal so he couldn't move. Then, they beat him, crumpled up his body until bruises blossomed and bones broke. Pulled out a few fingernails and teeth. But slowly. One at a time. Managed to damage a few organs as well... Internal bleeding was pretty bad," Hoseok pauses, staring at you with a cold, hard look in his eyes. "Then they forced rubbing alcohol down his throat... and duct-taped his mouth shut."

Your legs shake so hard, they give out. Your body hits the cold, marble floor, but you don't feel the impact in your bones.

"And do you know how he died?" Hoseok says. "You would think from blood loss... or a concussion." He stares at you as if he were expecting you to nod your head and answer to a degree. When he realizes you're shocked frozen, he sighs. "Your brother asphyxiated in his own vomit. Had to examine it myself, actually. And Yoongi would tell you the exact same thing."

Now it seems too real.

The last image you have of your brother was when he was eighteen. And that's the image of Jimin you played in your head when Hoseok had painted the vivid pictures of your brother's murder. The innocent, passionate, caring person you'd known. Gone. Just like that. And in such a cruel, inhumane way.

It hurts in a way you've never hurt before.

"Y/N, you see?" Taehyung sighs. He walks over to you, holding out his hand to help you up. When you make no move to take it, he forces you up himself, carrying your frozen, shell-shocked body back to the dining table. He carefully places you back on the chair like you're a fragile doll and speaks, "Whoever killed him might be after you. Jimin's made quite a lot of enemies who would do anything to kill him and his family. And you're the only family he has in America."

"Your brother wants... wanted you to be safe. We want to respect that, Y/N..." Jin soothes. "For Jimin, don't you think?"

"For Jimin?" you whisper, shaking with fear, grief, anger. "For Jimin?!" The tears are drowning your face again. "You're going to use that against me? None of us knew what Jimin wanted! You can't just assume what anyone wants! He's dead! He's... dead. Only he would know what he wanted, but he's gone..." You sob, your fists shaking with overwhelming emotion. "I just miss him," you whisper. "Ah, thanks," you mutter quietly when Yoongi hands you the third tissue of the day.

"We all miss him," Jin says. "We also understand your grief, Y/N. We're not your enemies, alright? We're on your side, and we're here to help you. I know things seem dubious at the moment. I apologize but I'd like to stay true to Jimin's last wishes. The will speaks what he wants, and we're merely acting on that. But we won't force you to join our little gang...

"We want to give you time to make your final decisions while also keeping you safe in the meantime. You're welcome to stay while you decide. We're not horrible men, Y/N. We wouldn't force a resolution out of you if you're not in the right mental state."

"A-And if I walk out right now?" you challenge.

"That'll be beyond what we can handle. We can't promise your safety outside of our territory, Y/N... But yes, you may walk out right this second. No judgment, no troubles... from us, that is."

"I... I need time, Jin. I can't do this right now." Even to yourself, you sound defeated.

"Hey... It's alright. Here, I'll guide you to the room you'll stay in..."

God, they had it all planned out, didn't they?

You look at the magnificent doors behind you. And for just a split second, you contemplate leaving. But you can't. Not when these people are the only people left. With your brother gone, your parents, oh god, your parents, thousands of miles away... The only people you have left are your childhood friends.

Childhood friends that are apparently associated with the mafia. And you were incredulous in the beginning, but the more you watch how the six of them acted, how they carried themselves... You would be crazy not to believe they were in the mafia.

And as Jin places a comforting hand on the small of your back as he leads you to the room you'll be staying in for who knows how long, you can't help but wonder if Jimin, the sweet, caring and enthusiastic person you knew had changed like his friends.

The Jimin you knew wouldn't hurt a fly.

Now, you're not so sure.

The hallways of the mansion are elaborately decorated with aureate designs and classic paintings. The expensiveness of your surroundings makes you feel even more at unease. Are you making the right choice? Can you trust these six men? Is it too late to back away? Would your brother have wanted this?

A stranger to your panicked thoughts, Jin steadily guides you further into the mansion. Though the twists and turns of the hallways are confusing to you, he seems to know them quite well. Finally, he comes to a stop in front of a white door.

"Your room's on the other side, Y/N," Jin says, giving you a small smile. "There's no pressure at all deciding where you want to go. But in the meantime, I hope you can be comfortable here. If you need anything, ask Jungkook or Taehyung, alright?"

You nod, dumbly. "I can stay here as long as I want?"

"Until you make your decision," Jin says. "So, in a way, yes. You can stay here as long as it takes to make your decision."

You nod again, unable to come up with an answer of any sort. Jin notices your slight hesitation and puts a comforting arm on your shoulder.

"I know it's been a lot to take in, Y/N... And I'm personally sorry we didn't reach out to you beforehand... But it'll be like the old times, I promise."

"In the old times, we were a family," you mutter.

"We still are."

You make an unsatisfied grunt, shaking your head. "I don't think I was ever part of that family."

Gingerly, Jin turns you around to face him. Though you admit you're being a bit difficult at the moment (and rightfully so), he doesn't look frustrated at all. He crouches down, putting his hands on your shoulders, shaking his head and giving you a kind smile.

"You were always a part of the family, Y/N," Jin soothes. "But think of your alienation from us as an act of safety precaution. Believe me, the rest of us did want to tell you about our... involvement, but Jimin didn't want to put you in any danger. Especially when you were busy trying to follow the path to your career. And eventually, we all agreed with that reasoning. It's dangerous work as you may understand. You have to be completely set on involvement if you want to be a part of it. I know you're probably thinking why we would ask you to join if it's so hazardous... But at this point, it'd be more hazardous to let you go, and Jimin wouldn't have wanted that..." He trails off, checking your face as if to check your emotions. But you've managed to keep a stoic look, though internally, your emotions are a mess.

"I want to apologize for dragging you into this mess, Y/N," Jin sighs. "But back when we were teenagers... Lost and confused in a new country... Feeling and looking like aliens, we were together. We were a family. And now's the chance for us to reunite, don't you think? Jimin would be happy..."

You flinch at the mention of your brother's name. "I... I just..." You're at a loss of words, eyes turning wet with emotion. "Give me time, please," you manage to mutter. "I need time."

"Yeah," Jin says, softly. "Of course."

He lets go of your shoulders, giving you space as he steps back. "Jungkook will come later to escort you to dinner, but other than that, we'll try not to bother you..."

"I don't think I'll be hungry," you say. How could you? It'd be wrong to have an appetite at a moment like this. Your skin still crawls at the vivid descriptions of your brother's demise by Hoseok. With a final sympathetic look from Jin, you enter the room, closing the door behind you.

You take a few, uncertain steps in. The room has sort of a musty smell to it, though it looks well-cleaned and organized. Without a second thought, you push the light gray drapes aside to reveal a large window. You open it to breathe in the fresh air. It calms your insides much more than you expected it would.

With a newly rejuvenated mind, you take a few steps backward until you're situated in the middle of the rather commodious room, taking in your surroundings. But upon closer examination, your heart plummets.

This room...

You slowly slide to your knees, looking helplessly at the decorations on the walls, the pictures in the frames, the drawings, the polaroid photos...

A familiar face looks back at you, grinning happily. Inside that pictured photograph is a younger version of yourself. It's you and Jimin arm in arm. You remember that moment exactly. It had been on your fourteenth birthday. Jimin had gifted you a polaroid camera, which you had forced Seokjin to take a photo with.

Next to the wall of polaroid photos capturing sweet moments you shared with your brother and his six friends is a familiar drawing. It's the piece of artwork you drew when you were very young. Before you and Jimin had moved to America. It's a colorful marker drawing of the Park family. You had falsely drawn your older brother shorter than you because he had been annoying you that day. And at the time, Jimin had gotten pissed with your petty antics... But as years passed, you remember he cherished that piece of artwork. And now it had ended up in this place...

A broken sob escapes your trembling lips when you realize this is his room.

How cruel that they have placed you here. In a room that would bring back memories of him.

Or maybe they thought this would help. Maybe they thought you could connect with your dead brother again.

All you can feel is cold inside. The Park Jimin you had used to love and look up to might not be the same man who had lived in this room. He'd changed. And so had his friends.

But you still find yourself staring at the decorated walls—too afraid to go and touch the photographs and paintings that hold so much memory—yet not afraid enough to ignore them completely.

Recalling your childhood wasn't too bad. It'd been pretty great, actually. Well, aside from the fact that you didn't exactly have parents to guide you in your teenage years. It's scary how much of a presence Jimin and his friends have in your past. You'd celebrated every birthday with them. Went to every high school party with them. Had Sunday night movie marathons with them. You'd known them all almost like the back of your hand (maybe even better because you don't like to look at your hands).

Indulging in the past is therapeutic. Until you arrive at the present, that is. And the future becomes a mystery.

What the hell will you do without your brother? And if what Seokjin was saying was true... and you're actually at the risk of being brutally murdered, then wouldn't it be better to stay behind the safety of the walls that your 'friends' offered to provide you?

Your mind is jumbled up with all kinds of thoughts. When everything happens too fast, you have a hard time getting back on your feet. You need time. Time to think. Time to mull over the pros and cons. To dissect your thoughts completely before acting recklessly on them.

You're not too sure of what to think. But you are sure of a couple of things. Your brother really was dead. There was no lie behind that. You'd seen the will... his last wishes... his handwriting... heard of the graphic way he was killed... And some deep feeling inside you knows. Two and a half days ago, you'd felt shitty for no reason. Then, you had thought it was something you ate. But now, you realize maybe that had been the universe's fucked up way of signaling to you that your brother was struggling to hang on to his last seconds of life.

You're also sure that you're angry. Angry at whatever bastard that murdered Jimin. And if it had happened in a way that Hoseok had so vividly colored in your imagination, you wish his murderer would die as painfully as he did. Revenge. Maybe that's what you want.

But you can't take vengeance all by yourself. You're just some average Korean-American young adult who's trying to please her parents who are back in her home country. You need help. And Jin had offered you help...

Those six boys are all you have left in this vast country.

But they're dangerous, another part of you argues. They're actually part of the mafia.

Your mind takes you back to the moment when Hoseok had so blatantly told you how your brother had been killed. He hadn't even flinched as he spoke such gruesome details that had made your skin crawl and breaths quicken. In fact, none of the boys had looked truly sad about your brother's death.

You fist your hair in frustration. I don't know what to do. You stare blankly at the portrait photo of you and Jimin with the other boys. Maybe staring at the inanimate Jimin will give you answers...?

You have no idea how long you've been staring and thinking when there's a soft knock on your door. Though the sound is nothing close to a disturbing racket, it is still a rude awakening to your thoughts.

You clear your throat before answering, "Yes?"

"May I come in?"

You recognize that voice as Jungkook's. Soft, curious and intuitive. "Yeah, sure," you say, making sure to wipe the residue of your tears away.

You can feel his presence, though your back is turned to him. He seems cautious, watchful as he slowly walks towards you. Finally, you turn around to face him. "What are you here for?"

Jungkook laughs quietly. He takes his leisure as he closes the window, and the room suddenly feels warm again. "Don't want you catching a cold," he mumbles, glancing at you before smiling cordially. "I'm here to escort you to dinner."

Right. Jin had told you about this.

It looks like Jungkook had changed his clothes. A more casual wear consisting of gray sweatpants and a hoodie. He looks like any normal guy you could find in America. It chills you that he's involved in a gang. Looks deceive.

"I don't have much of an appetite. Sorry," you say unapologetically. "I haven't made a decision either if that's what you want me to mention." Jungkook seems taken aback by your candidness, but you shrug. "May I please be alone? I need time..."

"I wasn't going to mention your decision," Jungkook says. He looks a bit sad you turned him down, but he begins to leave the room. "Just thought you'd be hungry... It's been more than six hours since you've come here."

"I know," you say. "I'm not hungry, though. I'm fine."

Jungkook nods dejectedly, "Alright. Have a nice night." He gives you a semi-worried look before he saunters away, closing your door lightly.

You breathe a sigh of relief when he's gone, releasing the tension you hadn't even known had built up in your shoulders. Sighing, you slump onto the ground, staring up at the high ceiling of the room. Maybe if you just think in silence, you'll know what to do.

You lose yourself in your mind until another knock on the door startles you.

"Y/N?"

God. That's Seokjin, this time.

"I told you I'm not hungry, Jin. If that's what you're here for."

You hear the door open, but you continue to stare up at the ceiling.

"Oh, Y/N..." you hear Jin sigh. He crouches down next to you, and you can suddenly feel his warmth by your side. "You're not hungry because of shock. But you should eat. Skipping meals shouldn't become a habit."

"I dunno," you mumble, turning your head over to look at Seokjin. "There's a part of me that doesn't want to leave this room. You knew it was Jimin's, and you gave it to me."

"I thought it would help with your thoughts..." Jin says. He puts a reassuring hand on top of yours. "Remember those days when we were younger? I just hope recalling the memories helped a little."

"Can't say it didn't."

"Good, good..." Jin trails off.

You finally sit up, staring curiously at the man. "Don't you miss him? Why is everyone acting like they don't? Aren't you guys the ones that had spent the six years I couldn't with him?" You're not angry, just confused.

"Of course I miss him, Y/N. We all do. We're all grieving inside, though we choose not to show it to those around us," Jin sighs. "I think we've all cried about Jimin's passing, Y/N. Some are more open about it than others..." He pauses. "We'd... Well, we'd like to share a meal with you. You know, make your time here worthwhile. A small dinner might not help the bad feelings go away completely, but it can help temporarily. All you need is a nice, refreshing drink and a hot, savory meal, Y/N. We'll be by your side. No one here is against you."

The way he says it makes everything sound so tantalizing, so believable, so obtainable. You should've known better. But then again, they're all you have.

You hesitate. Then: "I'll... I'll go to dinner."

Jin smiles, helping you up. "You won't regret it."

You're not in much of an ecstatic mood, obviously. You were beginning to regret agreeing to Jin's talented convincing until you see the dining room and momentarily forget half of your day's unfortunate events. Your jaw drops as you enter it and your eyes latch onto the shining chandeliers and crystal decorations.

"Wait 'til you see our kitchen," Seokjin chuckles.

You nod just to agree. It makes you just a tiny bit happier to think that your brother had lived in such a lavish place. At least he got to experience the good stuff...

You see the rest of your brother's friends standing around the large crystal dining table, each holding a glass of wine of their choice. It's a strange contrast between the luxuries of the room and the casual wear of the people in it. You'd expect to see them dressed in gold-trimmed tuxes and suits, but they're all in sweats—expensive sweats, granted, but sweats nevertheless. Seven dainty chairs surround the table, on which the food's already steaming on silver plates.

"Just in time!" Taehyung announces. "We were worried the food would get cold!"

"Oh," you mumble, nodding awkwardly before pulling out a random chair to sink into when—

"Excuse me, that happens to be Namjoon's seat."

Startled, you look up to see Jung Hoseok sighing and shaking his head. "Assigned seats, Y/N."

"Cut her some slack, Jung," Namjoon says. "She had no way of knowing. And if you can't tell, she needed convincing to be here, so you better play nice." He turns to you, smiling, though the smile doesn't reach his eyes. "You're welcome to sit in that spot if you'd like."

Already feeling quite out of place, you pause before replying, "No... Uh, I'll just... um, sit where my brother sat then..."

"Oh, that's next to me," Jungkook says, pulling your chair out for you as you sink in it gratefully. Looks like you're sandwiched between Namjoon and Jungkook. In front of you is Yoongi, across from you on the left is Taehyung, across on the right, Hoseok. And smack dab in the power seat of the table is Seokjin. It occurs to you that you're the only one sitting.

Awkwardly, you look over to Jin, who gives you another reassuring smile. "You may be seated."

Your eyes bulge slightly as the five other men take their seats as if they're heeding to Jin's commands.

What is this? A monarchy?

When Jin takes his seat, no one makes a move, you note. Your throat itches, begging for a drink of water or a sip of wine to calm your nerves, but you are not going to be the one who moves first. There's obviously some sort of crazy shit going on here, and you're going to tread lightly until you figure out what it really is.

Finally, finally, when Jin reaches forward to take a sip of his blood-red wine, conversations resume, breathing resumes and the eating and drinking commences.

You're shell-shocked. That's what you are. You're unable to move until Jungkook slides you a piece of filet mignon steak onto your plate.

"I remembered you loved that particularly," he says, before returning to his friendly conversation with Taehyung.

But your favorite meal—in all of its glorious scent—doesn't appeal to you today. So, you keep your ears open to listen to the conversations around you. Wondering how they can have conversations at a time like this...

Taehyung seems to be telling Jungkook about the cute chicks he saw while he was working at his restaurant. Your eyes widen as Taehyung makes a quite inappropriate gesture with his hands. And you nearly choke when you see Jungkook playing along with it.

"Get a hold of yourselves," Yoongi says disgustedly at them. "Y/N isn't blind or deaf, you know. Keep your sexual fantasies in your bedrooms."

Hoseok snorts. And even Seokjin seems to chuckle.

"Sorry," Jungkook mutters as Taehyung just rolls his eyes.

"It's hard when soo many hot, rich girls come to Seokjin's restaurant, you know?" Taehyung grins. "Even harder when they slip their numbers into your tip."

Jungkook giggles. "That's real smooth of them."

"I know! I can't help that I'm so hot," Taehyung laughs. He laughs even harder when he sees Namjoon's disgusted face. "Face it Joon. Being a lawyer sucks, doesn't it? No girls to hit on... Just old farts in court."

Namjoon just sighs, sipping his wine. "You know what? Taehyung? It is quite a shitty job. My stress levels strike the roof whenever the topic of my career emerges. Go get me some vodka."

Taehyung looks offended that his joke had turned into a chore for him to do. He sighs, shaking his head, muttering something on the lines of "can't take a fucking joke." Before he leaves, he calls out, "Anyone else wants another drink?"

"Coke and rum for me," Hoseok quickly answers.

"Tonic and gin," Yoongi says.

"The usual," Seokjin calls. When Taehyung scrunches his face in confusion, he sighs. "Grapefruit soda and tequila."

"Right," Taehyung replies. "Y/N?" he asks. "Pick your poison if you'd like."

You jump at the sudden mention of your name. "I dunno..."

"Maybe something strong?" Taehyung suggests. "You know, to help..."

"Right... Something strong."

Taehyung grins. "I'll see what I can do."

"Get me some gin and lemonade, pretty please," Jungkook laughs.

Taehyung gives him a disdainful look. "If you want it, come help me in the kitchen, bitch."

Jungkook grumbles but he complies, following Taehyung and disappearing behind a corner in which you assume the kitchen lies.

"They might 'accidentally' poison our drinks for all we know," Namjoon sighs, shaking his head. "I trusted Jimin more when he handled our drinks. He is... was the best bartender in the city," Namjoon smiles. "God, his concoctions were literally unmatched."

For some reason, what he says makes you feel even more empty inside. "I can imagine," you force out.

You hate this. You shouldn't have come. You're uncomfortable, placed in the middle of a group of friends that have no respect for your grief. Now there's an awkward silence at the table with Taehyung and Jungkook gone, but you make no move to fix it.

"So, Y/N! I saw you looking at our interior design, earlier!" Namjoon says, clapping his hands together.

God, not the small talk, again.

"Yeah, it's beautiful," you say, half-heartedly. Maybe you should come up with an excuse to leave. Maybe you should feign sickness—you already feel queasy, anyway.

"Eh, I don't really like it," Hoseok says. "It was like this when we bought it. I never liked all this bright crystal action going on, but it'll have to do."

"Right?" Yoongi agrees. "I wanted a more modern home. This seems so regal."

"It's not like we can move, though," Namjoon sighs. He hastily adds, "It'd take too long, and we wouldn't appreciate the hassle."

"We should be thankful for what we have," Seokjin says kindly. "Not many young adults are able to live in such luxury."

"Of course. If it's a good year, our total legal annual income in this household well surpasses four million."

You cock your head. Legal? Had you heard that right? Did that mean they had an illegal income? You speak before you can stop yourself. "Wait—"

"Here come the drinks!" Taehyung enthusiastically sings as he sashays in the dining room with a silver platter full of pretty glasses. Straight away he hands Jin his tequila concoction, then Namjoon his vodka, Yoongi his gin and Hoseok his rum. Jungkook slides into his seat with his gin and lemonade in hand.

Taehyung slides up next to you, holding up a tall glass of—

"Water?" You scrunch your eyebrows, looking wearily at the clear glass.

"Everclear," Taehyung answers. "It's illegal in California, but we've got some connections." He winks at you.

"Careful. That's 95 percent alcohol," Yoongi says. "You don't want to wake up in the hospital now, do we?"

"I'm sure one glass will be fine," Taehyung says, handing you the glass before sliding into his seat. "I trust Y/N is able to drink responsibly. Isn't that right, Y/N?"

You hum quietly, staring at the clear liquid blankly. Would too much of it kill you? But if you did die, it wouldn't matter at this point, right?

Taehyung laughs and he reads your mind as he replies, "I'd be killed if I gave you something that could kill you."

Right. A hard dose of alcohol is what you need especially after today.

One second you're semi-complaining that you're unemployed and single. Then suddenly karma bitches at you and your brother's dead, joined a gang and made enemies that had decided to brutally murder him. And now you have to decide whether you want to join the mafia or be left alone to be killed by the same entity that killed your brother. All in one day.

Even the thought makes you scoff.

So when Seokjin proposes a toast to you and talks off in tangents of what comprises of a short speech, you can't help but tune out. After the clink of glasses, you down the eponymous liquid that's actually ever so clear.

It burns your throat in all the wrong ways, but bottoms up, you finish it all.

After that, everything is hazy. The itch in your throat does not go away, and the room seems to spin around. Damn that drink is strong.

"Someone have her back before she collapses," you hear Yoongi say.

But you're able to stomach it in, head lolling uselessly to the side as you stare dumbly into oblivion. Your thoughts are muddled, thank god, which is all that mattered.

"Taehyung, I swear. Everclear shouldn't be taken plain. It's supposed to be drunk with a mixer for god's sake," Namjoon sighs. "Now it's your responsibility to get her to her room."

"That's going to be hard, considering she can probably barely walk right now," Hoseok says. "Jungkook should go too."

"Don't try anything on her," Namjoon sighs.

Taehyung looks offended. "What? Why would we? She's halfway gone. We wouldn't stoop that low."

"Yeah..." Jungkook says. "That's too low."

"You guys should get going while she's conscious..." Yoongi says. "She looks like she's going to pass out any second now."

"Why did you even think of giving her Everclear?" Namjoon rolls his eyes.

"She asked for it! She wanted a strong drink! I only did what she asked," Taehyung says, raising his voice.

"Let's not argue," Seokjin cuts in. "The hangover will definitely be bad... But her worries aren't with her at this moment. Don't give her a headache by yelling over each other. We'll have to cut dinner short. Taehyung, Jungkook, get Y/N to her room. Give her a few glasses of water before she blacks out. Hoseok, Yoongi? Looks like you two are on kitchen duty tonight."

"What?" Hoseok whines. "That's never our job!"

But one look from Jin has him quiet.

"I just hope she doesn't wake up with a giant hangover..." someone says. You can't tell who. You're mixing voices up in your head and your vision is blurry.

"You're kidding right?" another voice counters. "Everclear hangovers are the fucking worst."

It's the last thing you hear before everything becomes black.

—next chapter

—masterpost

—masterlist

#bts #bts fanfiction #ot7 #seokjin #yoongi #hoseok #namjoon #jimin #taehyung #jungkook #mafia au #over the moon #otm

[just-a-caffeine-addict]

Quotes Accrued in a Decade

“…as you well know, the source of the Nile remained invisible to those who lived next to it for a thousand years. Identifying it required a stranger. (A fresh pair of eyes may see what others miss)” –Sherlock Holmes (From The Perils of Sherlock Holmes: Short Stories)

“A couple of years before he died, I kissed my father goodbye. He said, ‘Son, you haven’t kissed me since you were a little boy.’ It went straight to my heart, and I kissed him whenever I saw him after that, and my sons and I always kiss whenever we meet.” –Terry Wogan

“A wise man makes his own decisions, an ignorant man follows the public opinion.” –Chinese Proverb

“All great truths begin as blasphemies.” –George Bernard Shaw

“An army of donkeys led by a lion is better than an army of lions led by a donkey.” –Genghis Khan

"An error does not become truth by reason of multiplied propagation, nor does truth become error because nobody sees it." –Mahatma Gandhi

“Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable.” –Cesar A. Cruz

“As we let our light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.” –Marianna Williamson

“Ask not what your country can do for you –ask what you can do for your country.” –John Kennedy

“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply give you courage.” –Lao Tzu

“Better the devil you know than the devil you don't know.” –English Proverb

“Beware of false knowledge; it is more dangerous than ignorance.” –George Bernard Shaw

“By three methods we may learn wisdom: First, by reflection, which is noblest; Second, by imitation, which is easiest; and third by experience, which is the bitterest.” –Confucius

“Can you really have a bad experiment? I don’t know. But can you have a bad result? Yes.” — EvanAndKatelyn (From Can Resin Preserve a Pumpkin Carving?)

“canon is but the sandbox in which i strike lightning to form glass. trouble me no more with your quibblings and quorums, lest i grind you to dust beneath my heel and build stories from the remnants of your bones. Avast, foul fiend” —taako waititi (From Tumblr)

“Civil war? What does that mean? Is there any foreign war? Isn't every war fought between men, between brothers?” —Victor Hugo

“Cucullus non facit monachum (A cowl does not make a monk).” – Fool/Feste (From Twelfth Night)

“Demons run when a good man goes to war…” –River Song (From Doctor Who)

“Due to high cost of ammo, there will be NO WARNING SHOTS FIRED.” –Warning sign

“Every couple needs to argue now and then. Just to prove that the relationship is strong enough to survive. Long-term relationships, the ones that matter, are all about weathering the peaks and the valleys.” –Nicholas Sparks (From Safe Haven)

“Everyone gives the title of barbarism to everything that is not in use in his own country.” –Michel de Montaigne (From Of Cannibals)

“Families are the compass that guide us. They are the inspiration to reach great heights, and our comfort when we occasionally falter.” –Brad Henry

“Fiction reveals truth that reality obscures.” –Ralph Waldo Emerson

“Fools take a knife and stab people in the back. The wise take a knife, cut the cord, and set themselves free from the fools.” –Unknown

“Forget injuries, never forget kindnesses.” –Chinese Proverb

“Genius is one percent inspiration and ninety-nine percent perspiration.” –Thomas Edison

“Herr, wirf Hern vom Himmel -oder Steine, Hauptsache er trifft (Lord, throw some brains from the heavens -or stones, as long as he hits the mark)!” –German Proverb

“History is for human self-knowledge...the only clue to what man can do is what man has done. The value of history, then, is that it teaches us what man has done and thus what man is.” —R.G. Collingwood

“Humor is emotional chaos remembered in tranquility.” –James Thurber

“I can pretend I’m a fish, but I shouldn’t try to breathe underwater.” –Unknown

“I have the patience of a saint. Saint Cunty McFuckOff.” –Words on a cup

“I have not failed. I’ve just found 1,000 ways that won’t work.” –Thomas Edison

“I made some good deals and I made some bad ones. I really went in the hole with this one.” –Quote on a grave

“I occasionally think, how quickly our differences worldwide would vanish if we were facing an alien threat from outside this world. And yet, I ask is not an alien force ALREADY among us?” –Ronald Reagan

“If I have seen further than others, it is by standing on the shoulders of giants.” –Isaac Newton

“If our impulses were confined to hunger, thirst, and desire, we might nearly be free; but now we are moved by every wind that blows, and a chance word or scene that that word may convey to us.” –Victor Frankenstein (From Frankenstein)

“If the world tells me I’m mad, whereas I know I’m not, which of us is right? Thus, being mad is what? Inventing a life one hasn’t lived or loving a woman met in another lifetime? Is it clinging to unsatisfied desires?..” Doriel (From A Mad Desire to Dance)

“If you’re afraid - don’t do it, - if you’re doing it - don’t be afraid!” –Genghis Khan

“If you’re going to be a writer, the first essential is just to write. Do not wait for an idea. Start writing something and the ideas will come. You have to turn the faucet on before the water starts to flow.” —Louis L’Amour

"If you're not asking the questions in a thoughtful way, you're not going to get any results that are useful or interesting." –Tony Wagner

“If your actions inspire others to dream more, learn more, do more, and become more, you are a leader.” –John Quincy Adams

“I'm the one that's got to die when it's time for me to die, so let me live my life the way I want to.” –Jimi Hendrix (From Axis: Bold as Love)

"Imagine a world in which every single person on the planet has free access to the sum of all human knowledge." –Jimmy Wales (Founder of Wikipedia)

"In caucus terrae, luscus rex est (In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king)." –Latin Adage

“In the end, it’s not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years.” –Abraham Lincoln

“In time of universal deceit, telling the truth is a revolutionary act.” –George Orwell

“It is better to be hated for what you are than to be loved for what you are not.” –André Gide (From Autumn Leaves)

"It's not that I'm so smart. But I stay with the questions much longer." –Albert Einstein

“It’s true. I forget important things sometimes… Sometimes I do think I should give up-- just let the crown win and the world freeze, with me in it. Some days I can’t remember a single reason to keep fighting. Some… Some days I-- I can’t remember her. But giving up’s EASY. You know what’s hard? To BELIEVE in your own worth, to KNOW you’ve got something special in you even if nobody else can see it. Even when YOU can’t.” –Ice King |Simon Petrikov from Adventure Time

“Learn yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow.” –Albert Einstein

“Learning to trust is one of life’s most difficult tasks.” –Isaac Watts

“Life is a dream for the wise, a game for the fool, a comedy for the rich, a tragedy for the poor.” –Sholom Aleichem

“Love is friendship that has caught fire. It is quiet understanding, mutual confidence, sharing and forgiving. It is loyalty through good and bad times. It settles for less than perfection and makes allowances for human weaknesses.” –Ann Landers

“Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within.” –James Baldwin

“Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose.” —“The Wonder Years”

“My family is my strength and my weakness.” –Aishwarya rai Bachchan

“Names are the sweetest and the most important sounds in any language.” –Dale Carnegie

“No man chooses evil because it is evil; he only mistakes it for happiness, the good he seeks.” –Mary Wollstonecraft

"No mortal can keep a secret. If his lips are silent, he chatters with his fingertips." –Sigmund Freud

“No one realizes how beautiful it is to travel until he comes home and rests his head on his old, familiar pillow.” –Lin Yutang

“NO TRESPASSING. Violators will be shot; Survivors will be shot again.” –Warning Sign

“Nobody knows you as well as our spouse. And that means no one will be quicker to recognize a change when you deliberately start sacrificing your wants and wishes to make sure his or her needs are met.” –Stephen Kendrick from The Love Dare

“Notice: Anyone found here at night will be found here in the morning.” –Warning Sign

“"One thing nature is very good at is creating incredibly complex microscopic structures. That's because nature's machines are the size of molecules, while our crude versions are the size of rooms." –Theodore Gray (from Molecules: The Elements and Architecture of Everything)

“Only the sufferers know how their bellies ache.“ –Burmese

“People never lie so much as after a hunt, during a war, or before an election.” –Otto von Bismarck

“People think intimacy is about sex. But intimacy is about truth. When you realize you can tell someone your truth, when you can show yourself to them, when you stand in front of them bare and their response is ‘You’re safe with me’ - that’s intimacy.” –Taylor Jenkins Reid (From The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo)

“Play taps for my ass, cause it’s dead as hell.” –Unknown Quote

“Six of one, half a dozen of the other. (It doesn't matter which one we choose; Equally involved, equally responsible)”

“Sometimes people are beautiful. Not in looks. Not in what they say. Just in what they are.” –Markus Zusak (From I Am the Messenger)

“Speak softly and carry a big stick; you will go far.” –Theodore Roosevelt

“Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can” –Arthur Ashe

“Take nothing but pictures; Leave nothing but footprints; Kill nothing but time.” –Caver’s Creed

“Take with a pinch of salt (Don’t completely believe what’s told).”

“The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other’s life.” –Richard Bach

“The end of one thing is only the beginning of another.” –Unknown

“The family is a haven in a heartless world.” –Attributed to Christopher Lasch

“The helper seeks to help others because he knows what it is to be helpless.” –’ Zen’ Wander (From Wander Over Yonder)

"The million-dollar question: Why aren't we kinder? The second million-dollar question: How might we become more loving, more open, less selfish, more present, less

delusional?" –George Sanders

“The need for a body of common knowledge and common reference ...grows more necessary so that people of different origins and occupation may quickly find common ground and, as we say, speak a common language...it also ensures a kind of mutual confidence and good will. One is not addressing an alien, blank as a stone wall, but a responsive creature whose mind is filled with the same images, memories, and vocabulary as oneself.” —Jacques Barzun

“The ones that stay with you through everything - they're your true best friends. Don't let go of them.” –Marilyn Monroe

“The only thing we have to fear is fear itself!” –Roosevelt

“The only time you should look in your neighbor's bowl is to make sure you have enough.” –Louie CK

“The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.” –Albert Camus

“The sacrifice which causes sorrow to the doer of the sacrifice is no sacrifice. Real sacrifice lightens the mind of the doer and gives him a sense of peace and joy. The Buddha gave up the pleasures of life because they had become painful to him.” –Mahatma Gandhi

“The secret of a good memory is attention, and attention to a subject depends upon our interest in it. We rarely forget that which has made a deep impression on our minds.” —Tryon Edwards

“The secret to humor is surprise.” –Aristotle

“The surplus wealth of the few will become, in the best sense, the property of many, because administered for the common good.” –Andrew Carnegie

“The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.” –G.K. Chesterson

"The word 'why' not only taught me to ask, but also to think. And thinking has never hurt anyone. On the contrary, it does us all a world of good." –Anne Frank

“The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong in the broken places.” –Ernest Hemingway From A Farewell To Arms

“There is no satisfaction in vengeance unless the offender has time to realize who it is that strikes him, and why retribution had come upon him.” –Jefferson Hope From Sherlock’s Adventures

“There will be something you hate in every job. The trick is finding a job where you love the good parts enough to make up for the crappy parts.” –post

“There’s a name for you ladies, but it isn’t used in high society… outside of a kennel.” –Crystal (From The Women of 1939)

“Though we tremble before uncertain futures… may we dance in the face of our fears.” –Gloria Anzaldua

“To forget the dead would be akin to killing them a second time.” –Elie Wiesel (From Night)

“Un sot trouve toujours un plus sot qui l’admire (A fool always finds a fool to admire him).” – Sherlock Holmes (French translation)

“We’re taught Lord Acton’s axiom: all power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely[...] I believed that when we started these books, but I don’t believe it’s always true anymore. [...] What I believe is always true about power is that power always reveals. When you have enough power to do what you always wanted to do, then you see what the guy always wanted to do.” –Robert A. Caro

“We call that person who has lost his father, an orphan; and a widower that man who has lost his wife. But that man who has known the immense unhappiness of losing a friend, by what name do we call him? Here every language is silent and holds its peace in impotence.” –Joseph Roux

“What we have done to ourselves alone, dies with us; what we have done for others and the world remains and is immortal.” –Brother Albert Pike

“When everything seems to be going against you, remember that the airplane takes off against the wind, not with it.” –Henry Ford

“When you wish upon a star, you’re a few million light years late. That star is dead. Just like your dreams.” –Unknown

“When you’re a brat, running fast is enough to make you popular. When you’re a middle-schooler, the guys who can fight will be popular, and after that it’s the guys with brains who can get the girls.” –Master of Protagonist (From The Fruit of Grisaia)

“Where we love is home –home where our feet may leave, but not our hearts.” –Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.

“Wise men speak because they have something to say; Fools because they have to say something.” –Plato

“You are the company you keep.” –Unknown

“You must be imaginative, strong-hearted. You must try things that may not work, and you must not let anyone define your limits because of where you come from. Your only limit is your soul" –Chef Gusteau (From Ratatouille)

“You walk around a drunk, you get a tired drunk. Splash ‘em with water, you get a wet drunk. Give ‘em a coffee, you’ve got a wide-awake drunk…” –Unknown

#quotes #sayings #everything associated honestly #some I need to review

[bitchynaruto]

Missing Scene - The Country Between Us (CH.3)

Embarrassingly I forgot to include this scene in ch. 3 which is actually kinda important to Sasuke’s headspace and his relationship with Suigetsu + coping. ANYWHOM, it’s included now in TCBU but here is a quick link to just read the one-shot instead of rereading the entirety of the chapter again lol.

Anyway this scene takes place after Suigetsu is recruited and right before Karin is recruited into Taka. More under the cut!

Night comes and the terrain grows more dangerous in the cover of darkness. Sasuke agrees with Suigetsu about finding a place to rest, and remembers the location of a nearby town at the midway point between Orochimaru’s hideout and prison.

“Thank fuck I’m giving my back a break from the dirt,” Suigetsu says with a relieved sigh. Stretches his back until it pops before shrugging his shoulders enough to loosen the joints. “You must really be liking me today to rent us a room for tonight, eh, Sasuke?”

Honestly, Sasuke was growing tired of sleeping on the hard ground, but Suigetsu didn’t need to know that.

“We’ll see,” Sasuke replies, the corners of his mouth twitching despite himself. “I can still leave you outside if I feel like it.”

“Cold. Ice cold. I like that in a man.”

Sasuke gives a tch and a roll of his eyes, letting the comment slide off him like water. Whatever energy he has for tolerating Suigetsu’s games is at the lowest threshold, and he doesn’t much feel like indulging them any further tonight.

They make their way into town. It’s out in the open and small, quiet and glowing with lanterns and the insides of homes, lighting up the dirt paths. Noise travels from the center of town, where a few food shops are still open, and people surrounding a bar that also serves as an inn. When they step inside, the place is loud and filled to the brim with people, alcohol staining the air and burning his nose. All of the rooms for the night are taken except one, but there’s only a single bed and a couple cushions to use as a makeshift one. Sasuke takes it anyway.

The woman in charge of the inn takes the money with only a mild look of contempt for the two men standing before her, until she leaves to clean up the room. Suigetsu is already at the bar attempting to order something, only to be slid a cup of water that makes him hang his head in shame even as he takes the drink. A curl of Sasuke’s lips escapes him at the scene before him, amused, until a light of reflecting metal catches his attention. 

Across the bar, a man with a Hitai-ate, carved with the symbol of a leaf dead center, hangs his head back and laughs loud and drunk without a care in the world. 

Sasuke’s about to flash his Sharingan, fingers twitching to his sword, before he realizes the man is too drunk to notice him. There’s only two other Leaf Shinobi surrounding him, one with his head pressed flat against the table while the other is matching him shot for shot. Only then does he relax his muscles, take a deep breath before making his way towards Suigetsu.

Now tell me, Sasuke, a familiar voice echoes within his mind, I thought I taught you better than this.

The voice has Sasuke stilling, narrowing his eyes. Now that he knows Orochimaru is a figment of his mind, and cannot harm him aside from manipulating memories and visions, he’s no longer caught off guard. Won’t let himself be fearful again. That doesn’t make him unweary, or stupid enough to believe Orochimaru won’t do anything less than cause a scene.

You really think I would allow any harm to fall on my precious vessel? Sasuke-kun, you disappoint me. I pegged you smarter than this.

Taking a deep breath, settling the anger and annoyance burning through him, Sasuke finally asks through gritted teeth, “Get to the point.”

I believe your enemies are vulnerable in front of you as you speak, and yet you’ll let them pass you by without taking an opportunity to better yourself. Shameful.

“If they get in my way, I’ll kill them,” Sasuke points out, knowing Orochimaru can sense the truth in that statement. “Right now, they’re not in my way.”

Don’t be so shortsighted. There is a reason why your paths crossed, and it is ignorant of you to believe otherwise. Knowledge, Sasuke, is power.

As much as Sasuke hates to admit it, the snake has a point. It is strange that Konoha Shinobi would be out so far from the Land of Fire, even though this were in fact a mere pitstop on the way to or from a mission. If there’s more of them near here, Sasuke shouldn’t make light of their increased presence.

Afterall, Sasuke’s a wanted man.

Sasuke makes his way through the crowded bar towards the booths and tables where the men talk amongst themselves. Most of the patrons are drunk, or are older than him, and pay him little mind—in fact, actively ignore his presence. It doesn’t take him long to settle into the table behind the men, back towards them as he focuses out the abstract noise of the other patrons aside from his target. 

None of the men notice him either. 

“I swear, I can’t wait to get back home,” one of the men drawls out, clearly on the verge of drunkenness. “Nobody makes katsudon like my girl does.”

“Don’t torture your poor lady by coming back home,” the other says through fits of laughter. “She’s probably having the time of her life without your ugly ass there.”

“Oi, fuck you.”

The men at the table burst out into a fit of full-bellied laughter to which Sasuke rolls his eyes at. He should have realized they were too drunk and off-duty to give anything worthwhile for Sasuke to pick up on. Listening to Orochimaru has never yielded in anything positive, and to do so now only proves his point further.

Don’t turn away now. 

But Sasuke’s already standing, about to leave the table and go upstairs into bed. No more entertaining Orochimaru’s desires any longer. Sasuke may have to deal with the snake slithering in his thoughts and mind, but that didn’t mean he had to act on them.

Sasuke’s about to head over towards where Suigetsu’s at, until a name has him freezing.

“Danzō’s a little crazy over this Orochimaru business anyway,” the third man says on the quieter side, sounding more sober than the rest. “How long has he been dead for now? What we really should be looking for is that traitor, Sasuke.” 

The man spits Sasuke’s name with so much venom and hatred, but it’s only a fraction of what Sasuke feels for them. Cute, in its own way. 

“You know our orders,” one of them slurs. “Find the prisoners and rescue them. Strengthen Konoha in our numbers.”

Sasuke’s blood turns to ice at that statement.

“What do you think he’s doing with them all anyway?”

“When’s the last time you’ve been in Konoha? Can’t go anywhere without an ANBU breathing down your neck or walking the streets. Not hard to figure out where they’re all ending up, and then we get stuck on these boring rescue missions. It’s unfair.”

“Shut up,” the more sober one seethes, smacking the other with the palm of his hand. “You’ve got a loose tongue. If we continue to do well, hell, maybe we’ll be assigned to hunt down that bitch Uchiha. Think of how fun that’d be.”

“Finally, it’s time someone put an end to that cursed clan,” says the other. “I’ll give the Hokage that much. Nobody has come close to bettering Konoha this much since the Senjus were in charge.”

The others murmur in agreement, laughing, and Sasuke’s already stomping past the group, fuming. Heartbeat pounding in his ears, the hatred and rage surging through him is all he can feel, all encompassing. 

All of them had wanted the Uchihas gone from the start. They didn’t need to know the details, but they had accepted Danzō’s role in the decimation in the clan—had even claimed his decisions made Konoha better, stronger. Sasuke’s read the journal belonging to the second Senju, has read the vile words of hatred without any fancy words hoping to hide away their true intent. 

After the massacre, so many of Konoha’s people looked at him with sympathy or pity. Approached him in ways they never had before. Sasuke had thought it came from their inability to understand his situation and trying their best to mask it, to push through it in order to offer their best sympathy to a boy who had lost everything in a single night. He knew the village thought of him as a survivor, a relic of an extinct and powerful clan, a piece in the machine to showcase the village’s strength and superiority to the rest of the world. 

Reality crashes into him and shatters the last illusion he had about Konoha. None of them approached him because of the tragedy of what happened, they only approached him because he was nothing to fear on his own. A fledgling Uchiha to control and use for Konoha’s own benefit.

Like Orochimaru had chosen him.

Now you understand why I sought Konoha’s destruction, Orochimaru’s voice slithers through his thoughts, I was made by Konoha. Only I could understand the pervasive nature of its being, and knew to avoid anything worse birthed from that village, it would need to no longer exist.

“Shut up,” Sasuke snaps as he goes up the stairs towards his room. Second on the left if he remembers the innkeeper correctly, but it’s hard to focus with his racing thoughts and Orochimaru’s voice. “Your reason for destroying Konoha has nothing to do with my reasons for my mission. We are nothing alike.”

You may say that now, but Konoha birthed your hatred and anger also. We are cut from the same cloth. Perhaps you believed you could fulfill your mission without me, but you’ll soon realize you still need me, my precious Sasuke.

He shuts his eyes so tight until all he can feel is his pulse pushing against his. The laughter comes back, echoing, and the muscle in his jaw threatens to jump right out.

“Sasuke?” Suigetu’s voice comes through as he steps inside the room. When he opens his eyes, the other has a glass of water in his hands, quirking a single brow at him. “You good?”

The laughter cuts off like a scratch of a record, and Suigetsu’s presence delivers the silence Sasuke had been seeking. 

After a moment to revel in the quiet, Sasuke answers, “Fine.”

Suigetsu eyes him a moment before he shrugs, moving to take off his shirt and get into his sleep pants. As always, the other doesn’t care for modesty, and as he’s changing into his sleep pants, says, “I saw you hanging around those Konoha jerks and thought you were getting into trouble.”

“No,” Sasuke replies. “Trouble usually finds me.”

“You can say that again,” Suigetsu says with a feral grin. “Never a dull moment with you around, Sasuke.”

Sasuke eyes him, and the anger and hatred burning through him has smoldered. “Is that why you came with me? For a good time?”

“Yeah, but that’s not the only reason.” That piques Sasuke’s curiosity, gets him to keep listening—the blatant honesty of Suigetsu surprisingly being one of his more endearing traits. “Nobody else has the balls to kill Orochimaru, not even that pesky Hokage of yours could. You woke up one day and figured it was time for that old bitch to die.”

A quiet huff of air leaves past his nose, lips twitching upward momentarily. “It wasn’t as simple as that. I spent a lot of time researching on ways to kill that snake, trained until my body gave out, and waited until he was at his weakest.”

“And modest, too.”

“Not modest,” Sasuke replies. “Just telling you the truth.”

“Either way people tried to kill him, and you were the only one who didn’t fail. Orochimaru tried to make you his bitch, but you came out the other side,” Suigetsu shrugs, turning to Sasuke with a smirk on his face. “ I listen to you and I don’t hear a bullshitter. I hear someone who can get shit done.”

Sasuke stares at Suigetsu, at the way the words fall off his tongue and the heat in the pools of his eyes. The longer he does, the further the grin split across the other’s face continues to grow. Suigetsu steps closer and closer, until he’s standing in Sasuke’s personal bubble.

Funnily enough, Sasuke doesn’t care.

“What?” Suigetsu asks, tilting his head down towards Sasuke. A pleasant warmth spikes in him, electrifying in a way the overwhelming anger from earlier drowned out anything good. “Said too much?”

“No, just enough.”

“Oh?” 

“You had a point, before,” comes Sasuke’s words as he undoes the belt holding his white tunic together. Doesn’t break eye contact with the other, not even when Suigetu’s gaze drops to where his hands are pushing the fabric away. “Weeks after we first met.”

“Remind me what point I made, my brain’s forgetful around men who look like you.”

“I was holding back before.” Sasuke chuckles, dark and deep. Hooks his fingers into the waistband of Suigetsu’s pants and pulls him close. From this close, he can see his own reflection in Suigetsu’s dilated pupils, a mirror of his own eyes staring back at him. “Abstaining from what I really wanted for some idea of a nobler cause.”

Maybe he was holding onto an outdated notion of what he must do to make sure the Uchiha were avenged. Taking off the head does nothing if the claws are still attached and the venom still surges throughout the veins within the body. 

Konoha created Danzō, Orochimaru, and Itachi. It is not enough to simply take out the leaders when the village itself is the poison. 

Which is why the Leaf Village must be destroyed. Only through destruction can the world be purged from its insidious beliefs that plagues not only the Land of Fire, but the entire world. Anyone who stands with Konoha is as guilty as its leaders, and deserves equal punishment for the crime of passivity for believing in the sham that is the Will of Fire. 

“Not anymore, though.”

Three words are all the other needs, and Suigetsu is all over him. Hands roaming over him with enthusiasm. When Suigetsu presses his mouth against him, he is reminded that this is his body. His choice. 

Everything up to here has been ruled by other’s actions besides his own, but now he’s truly broken free and can see the future with clear eyes.

Sasuke’s mind and body is his own.

No going back to how it was before.

#p #mine #my writing #the country between us #for ref #one day im gonna go back and edit the whole thing ... ONE DAY.. not today tho

[ma-gic-gay]

"Did you kill my brother?"

"What are you talking about, Jason?" Sonny asks his business partner who's clearly found out the truth.

"AJ. Did you kill him?"

"It's complicated-"

"No it's not. Either you pulled the trigger and let out the shot that killed my brother or you didn't, Sonny. I need to know what you did."

"Ava, she-"

"I didn't ask what Ava did, Sonny, I asked what you did. So just tell me already, did you shoot him with the bullet that killed him?"

"Yes. I did, I shot him because Ava made me think that he was the one who killed Connie. She told me that he'd killed her and I was mad. God, I was so mad that I killed him. Ava, she encouraged it, and I shot him because I thought I was avenging Connie's death."

"I can't believe you," Jason snarls at his mentor. "You thought I was dead! I died trying to protect you, and this is the thanks I get? You push my brother to drink again after my grieving mother calls him home because she needs one of her kids alive. He bonded with Michael! He was a part of my family again and you shot him. You killed AJ and didn't tell me for years. I found out about it because of Cyrus!"

"What the hell is Cyrus doing contacting you with that information?" Sonny asks, confused and upset. "And how the hell did he find out?"

"He sent me a tape with the audio of AJ's death, Sonny. I hate that man more than you could believe, trust me. But you hid this from me for years! I've been back so long and you hide from me that you're AJ's killer," Jason shouts, hands running through his hair.

"So did Carly!" Sonny weakly defends himself and he sees that the fire blazing in Jason's eyes softens slightly.

"This isn't about what Carly did! She didn't pull the trigger! She might not have told me that, but at least she didn't kill him. At least there's that. But you? I can't forgive you. You destroyed my mother. Monica, she needed to know one of her kids was okay and then the one that is, you just have to kill him too? Seems to be a pattern of yours, doesn't it?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You kill AJ and the reason everyone thought I was dead was because of you too, because I was trying to protect you. Kristina's been in a car bombing, Michael got shot, Avery was conceived on my brother's grave, Joss lives her life with bodyguards constantly around her, Dev died, Dante got shot- by you!- should I go on? That's just your kids and AJ, not even half of the stuff you've done. Should I go on?" Jason asks, shouting at him now.

"I know you're upset that Sam left you, Jason, but there are better ways to cope with it then by screaming at me," the shorter of the pair attempts to rationalize.

"Upset? Sonny, Sam left and she took my kids with her. Trust me, that doesn't cover the half of what I'm feeling right now. But I'm fine without Sam here, you know what I'm not fine with? You, who is supposed to be my friend, killing my brother and hiding that from me for so long." Jason fires back.

"Don't take this out on me, Jason," Sonny says, trying to impact this conversation somehow.

"What would you do if I'd done something like this to you, Sonny? I covered your ass so many times, I did everything you didn't want to do or couldn't do. Hell, you're only not still calling Carly a worthless slut because of me so don't you for a second act like my anger isn't justified. I raised your kids when you couldn't. When you were having a major life evaluation, I went to prison to protect your kid. While you were upset and angry, I was comforting your wife! I stood by you through everything, Sonny. Everything! I've got a right to anger, a right to being mad at you, and a right to downright hate you right now!" Jason shouts loudly.

"And I'm grateful for that!" Sonny shouts back. "But you're not listening and you're blaming everything on me when I'm not the only one to blame."

"You're the only one who pulled the trigger. Whatever Carly did, she would never do that to me or Michael," Jason reminds him.

"She helped me cover it up for months," Sonny tells him.

"To save your sorry ass so Michael wouldn't have to deal with more bad things! Her not telling the cops that you killed him, and lying to Michael about it, that was for him. Don't think for a minute it's because you're some amazing person because you're a killer of innocent men!"

"Don't you dare defend her and trash me in the same sentence! I did it to protect you, Jason!"

"Does she think I know?" Jason asks.

"Yes," Sonny admits. "I didn't want you to come back and get bombarded with bad news."

"I quit. I don't need your protection, I never have and I never will. You, on the other hand, might need some from me."

At that, Jason storms out of the office and drives over to the Corinthos home, where Carly is. He's got to find out why she did what she did.

He lets himself in and she smiles when she sees him at first, but quickly registers that he's emotionally conflicted. "What happened, Jason? Are you okay?" The blonde asks, rushing over to check him out. "You don't feel hot, so you're not sick. What's wrong?"

"Did you help hide it from me that Sonny killed AJ?" He asks her quickly when they're seated on the couch.

Confused, she says, "No. He said you knew, that he'd told you."

Jason sighs, his head in his hands. "I didn't. In fact, I just found out that he did that a few minutes ago when Cyrus sent me the recording of his death."

Frowning, Carly envelopes him in a hug. "Jason, I'm so sorry. If I had known, I would've made him tell you or told you myself. God, I'm so stupid! I should've known never to trust Sonny when it comes to this stuff."

"You thought I knew and I wouldn't have a reaction? For years, Carly, all I had for a family was you and Michael and Sonny. He killed my brother. You thought I'd just be fine with it?" Jason asks his best friend, hurt. "For someone who prides herself on knowing me, you really don't if that's what you think."

"He told me you were mad, told me you were processing! I didn't bring it up because I didn't want to watch you as your heart broke," Carly tells him, tears flooding her eyes but her far too stubborn to let them fall. "When we thought you were dead, I almost died, Jason. I was going to pull a Carly, I swear to God, and lose it at an inconvenient time. I know I should've been the one to tell you, I know, but I couldn't stand to watch you while you found out such terrible news. Sonny had me thinking you knew already so I thought there was no point to me telling you anyways."

"Believing what he says about me always seems to mess with you, doesn't it?" Jason asks, a small frown on his lips still.

"Yeah, it does," Carly agrees and the two sit there for a few moments in silence, reminiscing about the past. Before their lives were so complicated, when all that mattered was staying out of jail, each other, and Michael. "It always ends up fucking me over."

"That it does," he agrees, smiling softly.

"What are you smiling about? You just got terrible, earth shattering news, Sam and the kids left, and I ended up lying to you for two years. Why are you smiling?" Carly asks.

"Thinking about the what if's of life," he responds. "What it'd be like if not for that night."

"I made several offers for us to leave the country with Michael," Carly reminds him, chuckling. "Mainly after you came home, but still. You and I, we were in such a real life love and we had everything right. Except timing. When you were ready to confront your feelings for me, after an excruciatingly long period of time, I had slept with Sonny. When I had continually told you mine, you weren't ready to deal with it yet. Timing's a bitch."

"If we left the country, you wouldn't have Morgan, or Joss, or Donna," Jason reminds her.

"And you never would've met Sam, or had Danny, or Scout," she counters. "You think we would've worked out, had we done that, had I not slept with Sonny?"

"If I'd let us, probably," Jason admits after pondering it for a moment. "It would've been hard, but I think we would've. Provided, of course, neither of us backed out."

"You were the one who couldn't deal with it," Carly teases him.

"Yeah," Jason agrees, "I couldn't. Maybe what I felt was too strong or something, I don't know."

"Hey Jason?" She asks him a few minutes later, them both in their own worlds, thinking about what if's and their past.

"What?" He asks her, smiling slightly. His eyes give him away, blue and full of so much emotion in so many different forms.

She doesn't respond with words, just kisses him. Their lips intertwine and all feels right with the world for a moment as they're kissing.

But all good things must come to an end and they pull away. "That was-"

"Unexpected," Jason finishes, smiling at her. "Good unexpected."

"Glad we can agree. What's this mean for us?" She asks.

Instead of answering, he initiates a second kiss, a slightly more passionate one but roughly the same.

"Correction," Carly asks when they pull away, "what's that mean?"

"I don't know," he admits. "I don't know everything. I know that felt right, but you're married and I'm single."

"How do we keep ending up in this situation?" Carly asks, laughing. "First with AJ, then Sonny- our first marriage, when I was in love with you for half of it. And now, again."

"You get married too often," he smirks at her. "That's how."

"Well, maybe the third time of this is a charm," Carly smiles back. "It's an expression for a reason, after all."

Jason considers it for a minute. "God help me I'm going along with a Carly plan," he smiles.

"God help us both," Carly smiles before kissing him again.

I just watched you go through all the stages of grief. You ok???

[aquaminwrites]

Fake Love | Jung Hoseok (M)

PAIRING: Jung Hoseok x F!Reader, mentions of Namjin

GENRE: Fake dating AU, enemies to lovers, fluff, smut, minor angst

WARNINGS: Explicit sexual content, dirty talk, slight dom!Hoseok

WORD COUNT: 16.2k

DESCRIPTION: Every year, your family spends the holidays at your parents’ cottage in the country. Freshly single and not wanting to be picked apart by your family for being alone, you decide to recruit one of your friends to pretend to be your boyfriend. The only available volunteer? Your brother Namjoon’s roommate, Hoseok. Only problem? He absolutely hates your guts.

I should get up, you think to yourself. Daylight is precious in the dead of winter, and you’ve probably already wasted at least half of it wallowing in self-pity. You’re lying in bed, duvet pulled high over your head, wondering exactly how and when your life took such a left turn.

Breakups have never been easy for you. You’d always had trouble when it came to dating—you’d always described yourself as the girl that no one would fall in love with, but who had a lot of friends. You were social, flitting around with ease between one group of friends to another, but you had always wondered if your absence would be noted if you were to just stop showing up to parties or work functions.

But then you met Jackson.

The office you worked in had a Christmas party three years ago, back when you’d just been an intern and were keep on rising through the ranks to a full-time position. You were well liked, always offering a helping hand to anyone who asked and generally did your best not to make waves. You didn’t know what to expect when you showed up at the bar, which had been totally rented out for you and your colleagues. You also didn’t really know anyone at the party—the one other intern that you’d befriended having gone home for the holidays—so you’d just lingered by the bar on your own, silently surveying the crowd.

Jackson had come to join you, muttering something about how he hated office Christmas parties. You weren’t sure if he’d been speaking to you, or just muttering to himself, but the smooth, dulcet tones of his voice had you turning to look at him.

He was handsome. More than handsome—he looked like he just strolled out of a men’s fashion magazine, wearing a black turtleneck, a dark grey blazer, and a pair of ironed dress pants. He held a glass that held two thimblefuls of amber liquid that he casually sipped as he leaned against the dark oak of the bar. He tilted his chiseled jaw in your direction with an eyebrow raised, and you hoped he hadn’t caught you openly staring.

“I don’t know if I’ve seen you around the office before,” he noted with a curious glint to his eyes.

“I’m just an intern,” you admitted, breaking eye contact to fiddle with the sleeve of your dark green crushed velvet dress.

“Not just an intern,” the man corrected, leaning his elbow against the bar so that he could turn to fully face you. You offered up the same courtesy, though, you felt heat rushing to your cheeks as you realized just how close he’d been standing. He held out his hand, a warm smile on his face. “I’m Jackson, by the way.”

“Y/N,” you replied, feeling the warmth of his palm pressing against yours. “Nice to meet you.”

And that’s how your relationship with him began. It was a whirlwind, the two of you falling in love hard and fast. Within the first three months, you’d moved into his penthouse apartment, and you’d both met each other’s parents. Jackson had been a blessing in your life, teaching you what it meant to be in love and how to love another person. Your happiest memories were of his smiling face, of him telling you for the first time that he loved you, and the nights that you two explored one another’s bodies until the sun came up.

There was so much good in your relationship that it felt easy to slip into a false sense of security. You’d been hired on as a full-time employee at the company, taking on additional responsibilities and getting your own cubicle on a different floor. Jackson had been working hard as well, his eye on a big promotion that would have bumped him up to a six-figure salary if he landed it.

Of course, he did. And it was when he did that things started to fall apart.

He was never home. He always promised that he would make it in time for dinner, than he would spend the weekend with you and work wouldn’t be involved. He made reservations at restaurants, and wouldn’t show up. He’d take you to the movies, but have to leave halfway through to make an important phone call. On your third anniversary, as he was balls deep inside of you in an expensive hotel room, his cell phone rang and he actually had the audacity to stop and answer.

The breakup had been mutual, though it had been you who initiated the conversation. You loved Jackson, and part of you still does. But he was married to his job, loved it more than anything. It was his priority, not you. And to his credit, he’d admitted his faults and that he’d been a neglectful partner. You knew that you hadn’t been the best girlfriend either, not wanting to try to communicate with him because you were scared he would just leave you for someone better.

It’s been about two months since the two of you ended your relationship. You hear he’s dating someone else. Someone as handsome as him never stays single for long.

With his promotion, Jackson had also become your boss. And after your mutual split, working under him proved to be too difficult. So after a week of severe anxiety about even setting foot into the building and living in a hotel, you quit your job and had to find a new apartment.

The only saving grace had been that your older brother, Namjoon, knew that there was an empty apartment in his building, on his floor. You’d moved in without much thought, glad to have family nearby. Namjoon was only a year older than you, so the two of you were extremely close. You were the first person he’d told when he started dating his boyfriend, knowing that all you cared about was his happiness. Namjoon had started seeing Seokjin about a year ago, and the two are still going strong.

As for the job part, you’re still figuring that one out. Thankfully you have enough savings to last you for a while, but finding employment was definitely something at the top of your list. Right underneath ‘Get out of bed’.

Having your brother as your down-the-hall neighbour has its pros and cons. One pro is that you sometimes buy groceries for him and vice versa, the two of you always looking out for one another and making sure your pantries are always full.

One con is that Namjoon has a key to your place. And he likes to use it.

“Sis, where are you?” Namjoon calls from your front hallway. “I thought you were coming over for lunch today. Jin’s already here.”

You tug the blanket higher over your head, releasing a whine. You hear Namjoon’s socked feet padding towards you, and the sigh of disapproval at your current state.

“You have to get out of bed sometime, you know?” He says, and you can hear his frown before you see it. “It’s been two months, Y/N. You can’t just stay in bed all day. You’ve barely unpacked your apartment.”

You grumble, though you know he’s right. You don’t have that many belongings, nor is the apartment even that big. But you still have boxes in stacks in the corner of your living room, the bare minimum having been unpacked before you began to sink into the pool of self-pity that you find yourself in now.

You feel a light tug at the duvet before it’s yanked halfway down our body, exposing you to what remains of the afternoon sun. You’re in your typical pyjamas, an oversized shirt and shorts, and with how quickly Namjoon had ripped the sheets off, you begin to shiver and pout.

“Fuck you, fine, give me fifteen minutes to shower and freshen up,” you groan, blindly grabbing your pillow and swinging it in Namjoon’s direction.

Your brother dodges the blow and hops backwards, opening all your curtains and flicking on every light switch he can find. You haven’t moved yet, but you shout an affirmative when you hear him asking if you’re awake yet by the front door. He leaves you to your own devices, and not wanting to keep him and Seokjin waiting, you stumble out of bed and towards your bathroom.

The shower does you good and you examine your reflection in the mirror. The dark circles under your eyes haven’t gone away, no matter how many daytime naps you’ve taken over the past few weeks. You swipe some concealer under your eyes so you don’t look like a total corpse, slip on some leggings and a sweater, and tie up your wet hair in a bun.

With whatever remaining energy you have, you trudge down the hall to Namjoon’s apartment, rapping lightly on the door. You hear shuffling inside, and the unmistakable sound of Seokjin’s windshield wiper laughter. The door finally swings open, revealing the last person in the world you ever want to see.

“Wow, Y/N, you look like shit,” Hoseok says with a smirk, as if his insult is in any way charming. You shoulder your way past him into the apartment.

Jung Hoseok has been the bane of your existence since your junior year of high school. He was a transfer student, same age as your brother. Namjoon had been the one to take Hoseok under his wing when he’d first arrived, and the two of them quickly became best friends. But for some reason, he absolutely hated you. Whenever you were around, he would only ever tease you and try to get a reaction out of you, and you could never figure out what you had done to make him treat you this way. It’s infuriating, to say the least.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were going home for the holidays,” you grunt, not expecting your brother’s best friend and roommate to still be home so close to Christmas. Usually, Hoseok spends the holidays with his parents and his sister, and you don’t have to deal with him being a total pain in the ass whenever you come to visit Namjoon.

“My parents decided to go to Europe on vacation, and my sister is with her boyfriend’s family for Christmas,” Hoseok shrugs. “So I’m stuck here. Aren’t you lucky?”

You roll your eyes, heading towards the kitchen where you hear Seokjin trying to keep Namjoon away. “Lucky as a heart attack.”

“Y/N!” Seokjin cries when he sees you, his arms opening so you can shuffle into his grasp for a hug. “There you are. Namjoon and I were taking bets on how much longer it would take for you to get here. I beat him by one minute, so now he owes me a shoulder massage.”

“You cheated!” Namjoon pouts as he sets the table. You notice that he places down four sets of cutlery, and you inwardly groan knowing Hoseok will be joining you. “You just guessed one minute sooner than what I guessed, then she happened to walk through the door.”

Seokjin tuts. “Strategy, love.” Though he saunters over to where Namjoon stands, pressing a sweet kiss to his forehead before hip-checking him back into action.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Namjoon pipes up as everyone takes their seats. Hoseok decides to sit across from you, in a move that you can only assume is to aggravate you further. “Don’t forget that we’re all driving down to Mom and Dad’s cottage on Friday for Christmas.”

You give a solemn nod, and pick at the green beans on your plate. Every year, you and Namjoon join your parents for a weekend at your family’s cottage for the holidays. It’s a long-held tradition, one that you were more than happy to share with Jackson when the two of you had been dating. He’d always been the perfect buffer between you and your parents—not that you don’t love them, but they have a tendency to be a bit overbearing. They’d toned it down when you and Jackson had gotten together, and now that you’re single, you’re dreading the flood of questions and pitying looks from your mother in particular.

“Why the long face?” Hoseok questions, spearing a piece of chicken with his fork. “I thought you loved going to the cottage for the holidays.”

“She’s glum because her and Jackson broke up, so she has to carpool with us,” Seokjin supplies unhelpfully. You kick his shin under the table, earning a loud, indignant yelp.

Hoseok’s eyes widen. “You and Jackson broke up?”

“Don’t act as if Namjoon didn’t already tell you,” you scoff. “I didn’t move down the hall just for the fun of it.”

He shrugs, speaking between mouthfuls of food. “I thought maybe you two were downsizing. No need to get snippy with me, I don’t know or care about every minute detail of your life.”

You’re rolling your eyes before you even realize that it’s happening. “Maybe if you actually used your brain, or the power of observation, you’d realize that Jackson and I haven’t been together in almost two months.”

“Again,” Hoseok repeats, slower this time, as if you’re a child who can’t understand his words. “I don’t care about your life.”

“Hey,” Namjoon warns. “That’s my sister, bro.”

“Okay, let me rephrase,” Hoseok declares, tapping his long index finger against his chin. “How’s this: I don’t care, period.”

“Seokjin, babe,” Namjoon asks softly, back straight, cutting into his chicken with far too much calmness. “Where do I keep my rubber flip flops?”

“In the front hall closet,” Seokjin replies around a mouthful of food. “Why?”

Namjoon immediately focuses on Hoseok, eyes narrowing significantly. “My roommate is about to have an accident.”

You clear your throat loudly, muttering to yourself about how annoying it is that men can’t just figure their shit out with words. “I’m not upset that I have to carpool with Joonie and Seokjin, if you must know. It’s just…” Your voice gets quiet, and you can’t believe you’re voicing these fears out loud, but it’s too late to stop it now. “It’s my first Christmas in years without Jackson, you know? Even though we broke up, I really miss him. And I haven’t told my parents about it either, so now I not only have to break it to them, but also have to field all their questions about my love life, and my mother will inevitably try to set me up with one of her friend’s sons.”

Namjoon can’t help but snort. “Yeah. Remember that time she made you go on a date with her coworker’s nephew?”

“Of course I remember,” you grumble. “He took me to dinner and then tried to get me to invest in his pyramid scheme.”

Hoseok cackles, shaking his head.

You prop your elbow up on the table and place your chin in your palm, blowing few loose strands of hair from your face. “Maybe I could bribe a friend to come to the cottage and just pretend to be my boyfriend for the weekend. Mom and Dad will be shocked that Jackson isn’t there, but at least they won’t try to set me up with anyone and I can go back to wallowing in self-pity once the holidays are over.”

Namjoon considers it, his head titling from side to side. “Not the worst idea in the world, if you’re really that stressed about going alone.”

You give a nod. “You think Jungkook would want to come? He’s a little young, but at least he’s easy on the eyes.”

Seokjin shakes his head. “Jungkook and his brother are with their parents on a cruise or something. They’re not due back til after this cottage debacle is done.”

You frown. “What about Taehyung? Or Yoongi?”

“Taehyung’s got plans, and Yoongi went back home for a few days,” Namjoon responds apologetically. “I could maybe ask Jimin if he’s free.”

You shake your head. “I spoke to Jimin the other day, he’s going back home for the holidays to be with his family, too.”

Hoseok raises an eyebrow, looking around at everyone at the table. You’re purposely not making eye contact, but when he speaks, he voices the one thing you desperately do not want.

“I’ll go.”

You regard him wearily, your heart hammering in your chest. No. He did not just offer to come. “What? Why?”

Hoseok shrugs, listing off the reasons on his fingers. “My family’s not around this year, and your parents already know me. I’ve got nothing better to do, and if I’m being honest, I’m curious as to how this train wreck of a weekend is going to go.”

You frown, wanting nothing more than to faceplate into the spring mix on your plate. “I have no other option, do I?”

Hoseok smirks. “Get ready, babe. You’re in for a hell of a weekend.”

It’s just for a few days, you can survive a few days. Besides, if this is going to happen, you are absolutely writing down a list of rules for Hoseok to follow. Groaning, you decide to just accept your fate after weighing the pros and cons. When you finally agree, Hoseok blows you an exaggerated kiss, causing you to gag.

From his seat across the table, Namjoon watches the two of you with cautious eyes. He glances over at Seokjin, who just subtly shrugs his shoulders.

A hell of a weekend, indeed.

—

You end up driving down with Namjoon and Seokjin to the cottage, Hoseok having to work last minute. He had promised he would still be in time for dinner, he just needed to wrap up some stuff at his dance studio before the weekend began.

You’re about ten minutes away, the three of you driving in comfortable silence, when Namjoon turns in the passenger seat to look at you. “Are you sure this is a good idea, Y/N?”

You shrug, tucking your phone into your coat pocket. Nothing interesting is happening on social media away. “What other option do I have?”

Namjoon mimics you, his shoulders lifting nonchalantly. “Just seems like a lot of trouble just to get Mom and Dad to get off your back about being a single Pringle.”

“First off, you and Jin have been spending way too much time together,” you state with a frown. “Second, you have no idea what it’s like dealing with Mom and Dad when it comes to this stuff. They honestly worshipped the ground Jackson walked on. At least with Hoseok there, I have some sort of buffer.”

Seokjin eyes you from the rearview mirror. “Still surprises me that Hoseok was down to do it in the first place, to be honest. Are you paying him or something?”

“I offered,” you say, leaning back in your seat and watching the snow-covered trees pass by. “He said he didn’t want my money.”

Namjoon glances at Seokjin with a weary expression, but you don’t see it as you lean your head against the window.

You arrive at the cottage, which is really more like a second house. Your parents had always wanted a vacation property, working hard and making sacrifices to turn their dream into a reality. And the house was beautiful—you and Namjoon had spent many summers there as children, running through the woods behind the house until you reached the lake, splashing about without a care in the world. You spend every Christmas there as well, a long-held tradition that carries on to this day.

The cottage itself is a two-storey home with tan bricks and a wrap-around porch. White Christmas lights line the edges of the dark-shingled roof, wrapping around the porch banister and creating a pathway to the front door. There had been a decent amount of snowfall earlier that day, so some of the lights are diffused under the powdery blanket that covers the house.

Seokjin parks the car and you all file out, collecting your bags. You’re just about to ring the doorbell when the door flies open, revealing your mother, washed in the golden light emanating from inside. She’s wearing one of those god-awful patterned Christmas sweaters that Seokjin got her last year (he’s sporting a matching one, to your chagrin), with a Santa Claus hat perched atop her head.

“My babies!” She coos, dragging all three of you inside. The house smells like home, a combination of spiced scented candles and home cooking, and stepping across the threshold feels like a warm hug. Or perhaps it’s your mother’s arms locking around you, cutting off your circulation. It’s hard to tell.

“Hi Mom,” you smile, looking around. “Where’s Dad?”

She waves a hand flippantly. “Your father got a new barbecue for himself as a Christmas gift. He’s out in the backyard, bundled like a fool, cooking up more meat than we could possibly eat.”

As you, Namjoon and Seokjin file inside, you notice as your mother does a mental head count, and see the look of realization dawn on her face as she catches that there is one less ball of testosterone than she is expecting.

“Where’s Jackson?”

“Oh,” you begin sheepishly. “We, uh…you see, he’s…”

“They broke up,” Namjoon offers, taking everyone’s coats and dutifully placing them on hangers in the hall closet. “A few months ago.”

Your mother’s eyes widen and that look of pity that you hate filters into her irises. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry,” she sighs, tugging you close as you allow your body to go limp in her hold. Tears start to well in your eyes, which you don’t expect. But it’s also the first time you’re telling her about your break-up, and sometimes you just need to be held by your mom. “You know, if you’re looking, I have a coworker who has this son—”

Ah, there it is. You peel yourself away, going so far as to take a step back. “Actually, Mom, I—”

You’re cut off by the sound of the doorbell, and your mother cocks an eyebrow. She peers out of the window, and suddenly looks taken aback. She swings the door open to reveal a rosy-cheeked Hoseok, overnight bag slung over his shoulder, holding a bouquet of red roses and what looks like a pie.

“Hoseok!” Your mom says his name with a slight inflection at the end, both a statement and a question.

“Hi, Mrs. Kim,” he beams at her, and she allows him inside. “Sorry I’m late. I hope I didn’t interrupt if you guys already started dinner.”

“Oh, no, the kids just got in,” she waves off. “But…and pardon my rudeness, but what are you doing here?”

“Mom,” you interject, taking a step towards Hoseok. “That’s what I was going to tell you just now. Hoseok is…uh, he’s…”

Oh god, I’m so awkward, you chastise inwardly. Why can’t I just say it?

“We’re dating,” Hoseok offers. “Y/N didn’t tell you because she wanted it to be a surprise.”

Your mother tilts her head before she nods, a smile breaking across her face. “That’s so great! I always thought that you two disliked each other, but I suppose love always finds a way.”

“Uh, yeah,” you say unconvincingly. It’s then that you take notice of the giant bouquet of roses he’s carrying, and you point at it dumbly. “What are those for?”

Hoseok smirks, breaking character for a split second before his face transforms once again into that of an angel. “For you, Mrs. Kim,” he responds, giving a slight bow and offering the flowers to your mother. She gushes, because of course she does. She’s always considered Hoseok to be one of her favourites amongst Namjoon’s friends, and she loves roses.

“How sweet! Thank you so much!”

Hoseok’s smile grows wider at her acceptance of the gift. He then, however, plucks one rose from the bunch. “You’re welcome. Except for this one,” he says before he turns in your direction. “This one is for you.”

When you take it from his grasp, he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to the apple of your cheek. It takes all your willpower to not jump back, but to keep your feet planted where they are. You’re meant to be posing as a couple, of course he’s supposed to kiss you. So how come your heart won’t stop racing in your chest?

You decide to ignore it and just accept the rose with a bashful smile, one that has your mother in an absolute joyous fit.

“You’re too kind, Hoseok. Here, let me take that into the kitchen, and Y/N will help you with your coat. We still have some preparations to do with dinner, and Seokjin’s already offered to assist. Y/N, why don’t you bring yours and Hoseok’s bags up to your room and give him a tour? It’s been ages since he was last here.”

You mutely agree before taking Hoseok’s coat to put in the hall closet. As he sheds his layers, you can’t help but notice how nice he looks when he cleans up. His hair is styled so that it’s parted close to the middle in loose waves away from his face, and he’s sporting a thin, dark green knit sweater over a pinstriped dress shirt. It looks like he even ironed his dress pants.

“Okay, babe,” Hoseok grabs your bag as well, emphasizing the pet name. You want to gag. “Let’s go to our room.”

That was one thing that you’d somehow forgotten in this whole mess. You and Jackson had always shared your bed, which obviously was never an issue. But sharing a bed with Hoseok means…well, sharing a bed with Hoseok. And you’re pretty certain you would rather cut off both legs and serve them with Christmas dinner than have to share a bed with him.

You curse yourself for not fully thinking every detail of this arrangement through, but begrudgingly lead him upstairs nevertheless. It’s too late now. Your room at the cottage is at the end of the hall, beside Namjoon’s. You’d decorated the room as a teenager, and your parents left it largely untouched, never bothering to change it. The same went for Namjoon’s as well, except they knew not to touch anything because your brother was—and still is—so particular.

The room itself is pretty simple. It’s painted an off-white with a combination of framed art and little polaroids and other photos pinned to the walls. String lights frame the window, and there’s a dresser, and a vanity with more pictures of you and your friends throughout the years taped to the sides. It’s cozy and warm, and being here reminds you of all the happy memories of your childhood. Hoseok looks around the room with an expression that you can’t quite place before dumping his bag on the bed. He saunters over to your vanity to look at the pictures you’ve kept up there all these years.

You watch him with both curiosity and apprehension as his eyes skim over the pictures of you and Namjoon as kids, you and your best friends in high school, and you almost miss the imperceptible clench of his jaw at a strip of photo booth pictures of you and Jackson. You see where his eyes are trained and immediately stride over, placing the rose he’d gifted you earlier on the tabletop, and pulling the photo down.

He watches as you regard it with a heavy heart, noticing how you breathe out heavily through your nostrils. You look as if you want to tear up the pictures and throw them in the trash, but instead you just open one of the empty drawers of the vanity and place it gingerly inside.

“Not over him yet?” Hoseok asks, his voice quieter than you’re expecting.

You look up at him, expecting to see either mirth or pity, but surprisingly, when you look into his eyes, you see gentle understanding.

“I…” you begin, unable to maintain eye contact. You run your hand through your hair and fold your arms over your chest. “I miss him,” you admit. “But our relationship was over way before we broke up.”

Hoseok gives a nod, but doesn’t prompt you to explain any further. He just shoves his hands in his pockets and moves away from the photos, understanding that maybe he’d overstepped his bounds.

It’s then that Namjoon pops his head in the doorway.

“Hey, lovebirds,” he grins, obviously having a hard time maintaining the façade. You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Dinner’s ready.”

“We’ll be down in a second,” Hoseok states, and Namjoon just shrugs before disappearing.

You turn and give Hoseok a wry smile. “Gonna try to kiss me again or something?”

Your brain nearly short circuits the minute the words leave your mouth. Am I…flirting with Hoseok?

He snorts in reply, hands still in his pockets. “No one’s around, so nah, probably not. This weekend is just for show, remember? I know I clean up nice, but try not to fall in love with me, yeah?”

“Ah, there he is,” you say with just the slightest hint of irritation. “For a second, I thought aliens had kidnapped you and replaced you with someone who was actually tolerable.”

Hoseok holds his hands over his heart and makes a fake pained noise. “My lady, you wound me! How doth I go on in a manner such as this?”

You blink at him. “Doth?”

He just shrugs. “Don’t worry about it. Look, I just, uh…I wanted to let you know that…”

You wait for his response, unsure of what he’s about to say. Your eyes meet his, and you can see the conflict plain as day on his face. With a sigh, he shakes his head.

“Never mind. I just wanted to say that I hope this weekend goes well.”

You regard him curiously, but give a slight nod. “Yeah. Me too.”

The two of you head downstairs to find everyone else in the dining room, Namjoon and Seokjin sitting and sipping wine while chatting animatedly with your father.

Your socked feet pad along towards the delicious smell of a home cooked meal, Hoseok following close behind. You’re not used to being so physically close to him, and you can feel the warmth radiating off of his body. You try not to think about how you can smell his cologne, a delicious, perfect smell that has you biting the inside of your cheek.

You sneak a glance at him. Has his jawline always been so sharp? Admittedly, Hoseok has always been good-looking, but you’d never bothered to notice until now. You mentally slap yourself for thinking these things—this is Hoseok. Asshole extraordinaire, your brother’s best friend and roommate, and the bane of your existence since you were sixteen.

“Hoseok! Y/N!” Your mother calls as she lowers the hot dishes down onto the placemats. You turn away from Hoseok momentarily to eye her, a frown forming at the obvious giddiness filtering into her voice. She nods skyward, causing the two of you to look up as well. And then she says the one word you’d been dreading since you set foot into the cottage: “Mistletoe!”

She’s right. Pinned to the entryway into the dining room is a sprig of mistletoe, dangling over your heads. She’s evil, you concur. My mother is the devil.

Hoseok turns to you, and your eyes widen at his proximity. He smirks, that insolent, infuriating half-grin that both has your blood boiling and your heart racing. “Well, baby,” he purrs, wiggling his eyebrows. “Shall we give them a show?”

Before you have the chance to vehemently protest, One of Hoseok’s hands is on your lower back, and the other is cupping the back of your neck. He dips you down, catching you off guard. Your arms instinctively loop around his neck so you don’t fall, and in that split-second of shock, he kisses you.

Like, really kisses you.

This isn’t the peck on the cheek that he’d given you when you’d first lied to your mother about the two of you dating. The way he’s kissing you now feels different, like it’s grounded in something you can’t quite place. And, perhaps in a moment of temporary insanity, you kiss him back.

As soon as Hoseok feels your lips moving along with his, a deep groan rumbles in his chest. Your fingers curl into his hair as he presses you so close, and you swear you feel the wetness of his tongue gliding across the seam of your mouth.

Namjoon wolf-whistles and the two of you break apart before it can get too heated. A good thing, since you were starting to lose yourself in the feeling of Hoseok’s lips against yours, the gentle way in which his thumb rubs circles against your lower back. Hoseok lifts you back to standing and you immediately hide your face against his shoulder, your back to the rest of your family as he holds you close. You’d never been overly affectionate with any of your exes in front of your parents, even Jackson. So having practically made out with someone who you consider your nemesis in front of them is mortifying.

You feel his lips against your crown, almost imperceptible. You peel yourself away from him to look into his eyes, his expression unreadable. You hear someone at the table clear their throat, and it breaks the spell, causing you to take a step back, trying to hide the deep blush on your face behind your hair.

“If you’re done,” your father states in a teasing tone, “the rest of us would like to start eating.”

You bite the inside of your cheek as you and Hoseok take your seats opposite Namjoon and Seokjin. Your parents are sitting on either end of the table, Hoseok closest to your mother and you closest to your father. The spread of food on the table looks delicious, and you all start to dig in. Seokjin won’t stop piling sweet potatoes and turkey slices onto his plate, and when Namjoon scolds him for it, he proceeds to lick every item just to lay his claim.

You wonder what it’s like for your brother and his boyfriend to share one brain cell.

“So,” your father finally pipes up once everyone’s plates are full and the sounds of forks and knives clinking has filled the room. He gestures to you and Hoseok, an eyebrow raised. “When did this happen?”

You turn to look at Hoseok, realizing in your stupidity that you hadn’t come up with a backstory. Hoseok sees the apprehension in your eyes and decides to be the one to speak up.

“It was a few weeks after her and Jackson had broken up and she moved into our building,” Hoseok comments, addressing both of your parents. “I hadn’t seen Y/N in a while, since she was always working. But then one day she came over to visit Namjoon, and…” He then turns to look at you, making sure your eyes don’t stray from his. “I just thought she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, and that I was an idiot for not noticing sooner.”

Your jaw can’t help but drop just slightly at the confession, but then you remember that this is all an act. This is just so your parents will leave you alone about what happened with Jackson, and Hoseok is just a better actor than you’d ever given him credit for. It sets a sharp bitterness in your mouth, forcing you to remember that you hate Hoseok, and that he hates you too.

For some reason, though it’s been fact for the majority of your adult life, the harsh reality has your heart clenching in your chest.

“How romantic!” Your mother’s cooing interrupts your thoughts. Hoseok is smiling gently at you, and you can’t help but blush and turn away to pick at your food as you gather your thoughts.

“Yeah,” you agree, clearing your throat. “We both thought that maybe it would be a little too soon after everything that happened, but…”

“It just feels right,” Hoseok finishes for you.

You can’t help but wonder if an alien really did abduct the real Hoseok and left an imposter as a replacement, but you play along, nodding slightly.

“Yeah. It does.”

—

Dinner passes with the expected amount of painful questioning, mostly from your mom. Your dad has always stated that he trusts your judgment when it comes to the guys you date, and since he already knows Hoseok, his questions are thankfully minimal. When you’d first brought Jackson home for dinner, you were worried that he and your father wouldn’t get along. But as was in your then-boyfriend’s nature, he won them both over with his sharp wit and bold sense of humour.

You sink into your chair as the memories long since past swirl around in your mind and have you staring off into space. Hoseok seems to notice immediately and he nudges you under the table as Seokjin and your father engage in a dad-joke competition that has your mother and Namjoon each refilling their glasses of wine.

“You okay?”

Your fingers drum along the stem of your own wine glass before pushing it away. “Had too much to drink maybe. I think I have a bit of a headache.”

Hoseok frowns, glancing at the others. “Do you want to get some fresh air?”

You offer up a small smile. “Actually, yeah. That’s a great idea.”

Hoseok beams at you before pressing a kiss to your forehead, catching you off guard, and rising to his feet. “Y/N and I are going to go for a quick walk. Too much wine, you know?” You hear him joke, though the ringing in your ears that began when his lips touched your skin hasn’t stopped just yet. You take a second to gather yourself, ignoring Namjoon’s apprehensive eyes, and follow Hoseok to the front foyer to collect your coats.

Winter has never been one of your favourite seasons—in fact, if you were forced to rank them, it would most likely place dead last, with summer being at the very top. But you have to admit, as you and Hoseok walk one of the trails that leads down to the lake, winter truly can be beautiful.

The sound of your snow boots crunching against the snowy ground fill your ears as you take in the sight of evergreens coated in snow, of other cottages in the distance glowing in the frigid night, and the decorative lights that break through the dark blue of the night sky. It’s quiet, save for the satisfying noise of snow being displaced under the rubber soles of your boots. Beside you, Hoseok is silent, chin tilted upward as he quietly observes everything around him.

Hoseok has been to your cottage before, just once, in the summer when you were teenagers. It had been the year he’d first moved to the city, and Namjoon had wanted him to feel welcome. That was the summer he’d wound up on your shit list, pushing you off the dock and into the lake where your foot had caught on some seaweed and you’d nearly drowned. After you’d been rescued and it was confirmed that you were alright, he’d laughed in that loud, maniacal way that you would grow to detest, dramatically making fun of how you’d fallen when he’d shoved you. After that, you had urged your parents to ban him from ever visiting the cottage again, having humiliated and nearly killed you that summer.

The path to the lake winds through the woods, though it’s a path that has been trodden by so many that you could walk it with your eyes closed. Neither you or Hoseok say anything—there’s no need to, you find, as the silence doesn’t feel as awkward as you’d expect. If anything, it feels comfortable and familiar. You chalk it up to just having known Hoseok for a long time, that his presence at your side isn’t as unfamiliar as that of a total stranger.

Eventually, the trees part and the sound of the lake lapping against the shore fills your ears. You’d always loved your cottage for this reason—being by the lake, hearing the steady rhythm of the water, always fills your mind with calm. There are a few fallen logs that serve as seating, and you dust off the snow to make room for you and Hoseok to sit down.

Your hands are shoved into the pockets of your coat and you sigh, glancing out at the horizon. It’s dark, but you can see dots of warm light on the other side of the water, and you smile to yourself at the thought of other families getting together and enjoying the holidays.

You wonder if Jackson is with his new girlfriend.

Prying your eyes away from the waves, you stare down at your boots, suddenly hyper focused on pushing a small pile of snow from the outside of your foot to the inside, and back again. Hoseok notices, his voice soft when he speaks.

“You know, it’s okay to miss him.”

Your head snaps in his direction as you peer up into the warm chocolate of his eyes. “What?”

“It’s okay to miss him,” Hoseok repeats with a shrug. “I can tell that you’re not totally over your breakup.”

You frown, turning back to fixate on the snow. “Is it that obvious?”

Hoseok snorts. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m doing the majority of the heavy lifting with your parents, right now. If Namjoon ‘secretly’ rolls his eyes one more time, I think they might actually fall out of his face.”

You nod absentmindedly, remembering once again that none of this is real. Hoseok isn’t your boyfriend, and neither is Jackson. You’re alone, single and horribly lonely, and the weight of that reality starts to really sink in.

You don’t want to cry, but you feel tears escaping as you take in a shaky breath. “It’s just hard to get out of bed sometimes, you know?” You admit feebly, ashamed of how small your voice sounds. “I just can’t help but think that if maybe I had done more, or been more, then maybe we might still be together. I wish…I just wish I was enough for him. He was always enough for me.”

Hoseok seems to hesitate, but then he apprehensively lifts his arm and places it around your shoulders. It’s a little awkward as his hand gives you a good natured pat, not trying to pull you into his body heat, just sitting beside you and trying to offer you comfort. You can’t help but notice the distinct difference between this Hoseok and the one that was trying to charm your family. In there, he was cool, funny, and warm. Out here, he’s awkward, contemplative, and nervous.

You can’t help but think that you kind of prefer this version of Hoseok.

“You know,” he begins, his voice cutting through the chill in the air. “You can’t live your life thinking about shit like that. You’re always going to look back at moments in your past and think that if you had done something differently, that the outcome would be more favourable. But honestly, dwelling on it is only going to make it worse, since you can’t change it now. What’s done is done. You gotta move on.”

Deep down, you know Hoseok is right. But still, as your breath hitches in your throat, it doesn’t stop you from asking, “Do you think it’ll ever stop hurting this much?”

It’s then that Hoseok scoots a little closer, pulling you into the warmth of his embrace. You let yourself melt against him, your head resting upon his shoulder, as he rubs your arm and places his cheek against your crown. You close your eyes, the scent of sandalwood and spice filling your nostrils. And for the first time in what feels like ages, you don’t see Jackson’s face when you’re met with the darkness behind your eyelids.

No.

This time, you picture Hoseok.

And when he speaks, you nearly forget about Jackson altogether.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I know it will.”

You arrive back at the cottage, not feeling nearly as horrible as you had when you’d left. You apologize to your parents about not sticking around to help clean up or clear the table, but your mother just winks and says it’s alright, that it’s only natural to want some alone time with your new boyfriend.

You hate that you’re lying to her, but you also can’t stop the way your breath catches in your throat at the insinuation.

Alone time with your new boyfriend.

You pretend that those words aren’t circling in your brain as you sink into the covers, squishing yourself on one side of the double bed. Hoseok is on the other side, doing something that you can only describe as touching himself.

Not in a sexual way. But he’s lying down, arms shot straight up in the air as he runs his fingertips along his inner forearms, alternating every few seconds. His eyes are closed, and he looks absolutely insane.

“What are you doing?” You have to ask, turning your head on your pillow to face him. He’s moved on now to gently caressing his own chest, looking just as  odd as before.

“My mom used to do this to me when I was a kid,” he explains, his eyes still shut. “It helps me fall asleep.”

You blink owlishly at him, unable to help the small giggle that escapes your lips. He cracks an eye open, glaring at you.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you respond, fully turning your body to face him now. “You just look crazy, is all.”

Hoseok drops his arms against the sheets in a minor huff. “Well, princess, sorry if it bothers you. You gonna volunteer to do it for me, then? Because if not, it’s going to be a long night.”

You gape at him for just a moment, though it morphs into an amused smile. “You really can’t get to sleep without someone touching you?”

Hoseok grumbles, annoyed that you know at least one of his secrets. “Unfortunately not.”

In a moment of boldness, you scoot towards him and gesture for him to face you. He does so with an unsure look, and you can’t help but notice his eyes widen as you start to run your fingers through his hair.

You don’t know what possesses you to do so, but all you know is that the strands are silky between your fingers, and your ministrations has Hoseok’s eyes starting to flutter shut. As your nails gently scrape along his scalp, he lets out a low moan, one that has him immediately darting awake and pulling away from you.

“I’m good,” he stutters out, creating distance between your bodies. “Th-thanks for that. But I’m okay.”

“Oh,” you respond, surprised and just slightly disappointed. “Well…goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight,” he replies gruffly, turning his back to you and tugging the duvet up to his chin. You sigh and do the same, attempting to get comfortable. You wind up staring at the wall as the minutes tick by on the clock, sleep deciding to evade you on this night.

From the other side of the bed, Hoseok also remains wide awake, his hands twitching as if he wants nothing more than to reach out and touch you.

But he doesn’t, because you’re his brother’s best friend, and you hate him. You’ve made that clear. So instead, he forces his eyes shut, and counts sheep until slumber decides to consume him in all-encompassing darkness.

—

The rest of the weekend passes by in a blur. There’s a new, underlying tension between you and Hoseok that you’re trying your best to ignore, although you know that at least Namjoon can sense that something is off.

You don’t tell anyone that when you’d awoken on Christmas morning, that Hoseok had been clinging to you like a koala, arms looped around your middle and a leg slung over yours. You’d carefully extradited yourself from his grasp without waking him, heading downstairs to help your father prepare breakfast for everyone.

But over the course of the entire weekend, Hoseok had been nothing but a total gentleman, always offering to help out with the dishes and setting the table, indulging your dad in talks of sports he knew nothing about, and even going so far as to help your mother with cooking. It made you look at him differently. He was so domestic, and you couldn’t deny the butterflies in the base of your stomach whenever he smiled in your direction. It had been confusing, to say the least.

It’s with the utmost relief that you find yourself backing your bags alone in your room, happy that you can finally return to your apartment to wallow in self pity all by your lonesome. You hear a rap against the doorframe, and as you turn, Hoseok steps into view. He’s dressed casually, wearing an oversized sweater and a pair of loose track pants, but you still can’t help but think that he looks effortlessly handsome.

You’re not sure when your brain started to produce these thoughts, but you try your hardest to ignore them.

“Hey,” he greets, almost sheepish. “You packing?”

It takes you a second to find your voice. “Yeah,” you nod, going back to sorting your belongings in the confines of your duffel bag. “You have all your stuff?”

“Yeah,” he confirms, pushing off from the door frame to make his way over to you. You feel his presence before you see how close he is, and his proximity has you standing up to your full height as you face him.

“Did you need something?” You ask, barely above a whisper.

Hoseok smiles with a shake of his head. Has he always looked this radiant?

“No, nothing like that,” he states, scratching at the back of his head. “I just, uh…wanted to say that surprisingly, I had fun this weekend.”

You can’t help but grin. “Yeah, me too. Definitely got my parents off my back, so I definitely owe you my thanks in that department.”

“Oh?” Hoseok raises an eyebrow. “Do I get to choose my token of gratitude?”

You tilt your head in confusion. “I mean, sure, I guess? Do you want money or something? Because that might have to wait until I’m employed again—”

“No,” Hoseok interrupts. “Nothing like that.”

You feel your palms starting to sweat. “Then what?”

You see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallows hard. His voice sounds almost husky as he breathes out, “Kiss me.”

You almost take a step back, but force yourself to remain rooted in place, though shock is evident on your features. “W-what?”

“Kiss me,” he repeats, and you feel the warmth of his palm against your hip. “Without anyone watching, without the whole fake-boyfriend pretence.” He looks into your eyes, hopeful and oddly sincere. “Please?”

Your throat feels dry, and you swear the room is starting to spin. But your mouth speaks before your mind can catch up, asking, “Just once?”

The look in his eyes becomes unreadable, almost distant, before he answers, his breath fanning across your face. He’s so close. “Yeah. Just once.”

Your body feels like it’s running on autopilot as you lift your arms to loop around Hoseok’s neck. His grip on your waist tightens as he draws you in, closer and closer. You rise to the tips of your toes and feel his nose grazing against yours. You feel his lips barely grazing against yours, almost touching but not quite. You feel dizzy with want, this inexplicable spark of desire growing within you and warming your body from the inside out. For the very first time, you realize that you want him, that you want Jung Hoseok, and it terrifies you.

You’re just about to finally close the distance when you hear your mother from the doorway.

“Y/N, Hobi, I just wanted to—oh! Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt!”

You practically jump back from Hoseok, the moment shattered as you retract your arms from his body and curl in on yourself, squeezing your eyes shut for a second. You hear Hoseok sigh before he reluctantly moves his hands from your waist.

“That’s okay, Mrs. Kim,” he says in a strained voice. “I should probably finish packing up my car anyway.” He leans down and presses a kiss to your cheek, oddly close to the corner of your mouth. The next question he whispers into your ear, so quiet you almost don’t hear him. “See you back at the apartment?”

Oh. Part of you had hoped that Hoseok would offer to drive you back, but you suppose it makes more sense for Namjoon and Seokjin to take you. You and Hoseok need some distance, a little space to figure out the whirlwind of confusing emotions that have threatened to consume you whole. You just nod dumbly, still not looking at him. If you look at him, you might say or do something you’ll just regret later, with your mother as a witness by the door.

He lingers a moment longer before finally leaving the room. Your mother smiles at him as he goes, and he offers her a small upward quirk of his lips in return. Once the two of you are alone, and you’ve shoved the rest of your things into your duffel, your mom walks over to you and sits on the bed. She pats the spot next to her, and you take a seat, hands folded in your lap.

“How are you doing, sweetie?”

You’re confused by the question. “Uh…fine?”

“No,” she shakes her head, reaching up to play with a strand of your hair. “That’s not what I’m asking.”

You’d known that from the beginning. Your mother had always been your biggest confidant, and she hadn’t had a chance to really talk to you by yourself since getting to the cottage. You’d been expecting this conversation, dreading it even. She continues.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner that you and Jackson had broken up?” She asks gently. You’d known that your mother had loved the boy, taken him in as a second son. She had joked in the past that the two of you should get married, and that had been the direction you thought your life was going in. But life has other plans. It always does.

You take a moment to gather your thoughts before replying. “I was embarrassed,” you admit truthfully. “I…I don’t know, Mom. I guess I always thought that Jackson was going to be it for me. I told so many people how much I loved him, and everyone would always tell me in return that we were the perfect couple. What kind of perfect couple breaks up because he’s married to his job?”

You take in a shaky breath and let it out slowly.

“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. I just needed time to figure out my new normal again.”

She nods, staring off into space. After a beat, she pipes up. “Hoseok is great, though.”

You glance over at her, not realizing the tiny smile that has made its way onto your face. “Yeah. He is.”

“You know,” your mother muses, the distant look in her eyes full of nostalgia. “When you two were in high school, I always suspected that he had a crush on you. Boys always show that they like girls in the stupidest ways when they’re younger, what with all the teasing and such. But I have to say, the two of you together just make sense.”

You bite your lower lip. “We do?”

“Yeah,” she affirms. “I see it in the way he looks at you when you’re not paying attention. He really cares about you. And I know this relationship is new, and it’s coming off the heels of a breakup, but don’t let him go. Okay? At least not without a fight.”

In that instant, you almost tell her that the entire thing is fake. That none of it is real, that Hoseok is just a talented actor who had wanted to see how much of a shit show this weekend would truly be. But as your mother beams at you with all the love and warmth that you’d missed being holed up under the covers in your apartment, you just smile in return.

“Okay, Mom. I promise.”

Hoseok is already gone by the time you all pile into Seokjin’s car, saying he needed to get back to the studio to check on something, even though it was the day after Christmas. You don’t say anything, opting to put your headphones on and drown out everything around you as you stare blankly out the window.

“Can she hear us?” Namjoon asks his boyfriend as your eyes start to flutter shut. Seokjin’s hands tighten around the steering wheel as he glances back at you through the rearview mirror.

“I don’t think so. She’s got those giant noise-cancelling things on her head, and I think she’s taking a nap.”

Namjoon sighs, running a hand through his hair. “This is a mess, Jin.”

Seokjin agrees with a grunt. “Honestly, I still can’t believe Hobi actually agreed to come this weekend. Volunteered, even.”

“Yeah, well, you know how he feels about my sister,” Namjoon whispers, just in case you’re secretly awake or between songs. “This isn’t healthy for either of them. One of them is gonna get their heart broken, and it’s gonna be Hoseok.”

Seokjin tries to be optimistic. “But it looked as if she was into it, no?”

He strokes his index finger along his chin, pensive and frustrated. “I don’t know. Y/N has always been pretty good at hiding it in front of people whenever she’s upset or anxious. But whatever happened this weekend didn’t feel fake to me. From either of them.”

“Ah,” Seokjin tuts, driving with one hand as he leans his elbow against the windowsill. “They’re both adults, Joonie. They’ll figure it out, and everything will go back to normal.”

“I don’t know,” Namjoon responds with an air of trepidation. But he doesn’t say anything else.

—

Before you can blink, it’s New Year’s Eve. As soon as you’re back from your parents’ cottage, you pretty much go back to your previous routine—hiding out from the world in your apartment under the covers, only really coming out to eat or go to the bathroom. But this time, you’re not only hiding from the chaos that’s outside, but also from Hoseok.

You’ve never been more confused. You haven’t spoken to him since that weekend, nor have you gone over to his and Namjoon’s apartment. Your brother has reluctantly been giving you space, something that he only ever does when he knows you’re experiencing inner turmoil.

You flop down on your bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering just how you got here. You try to think back on when exactly these feelings had sprung up. Part of you wants to believe that it’s just because you were dying for affection of any kind after your break up, and Hoseok was just the one to provide it for you. You try to reason that if it had been any of your other friends, like Jungkook or Yoongi, you’d probably feel similarly.

But the larger part of your brain knows that that isn’t true.

You shut your eyes, taking in a deep breath. You need to be honest with yourself for once.

Truth be told, you’d always had a bit of a thing for Hoseok. When you’d first met him, you had just come home from varsity soccer practice, still wearing your uniform and dripping with sweat. He was sitting on the couch with Namjoon, joking around and teasing him as he struggled through some video game you didn’t recognize.

You’d immediately been attracted to him, his smile being the first thing that had you mesmerized. But you don’t really know what happened after that. He’d taken to teasing you, purposely pushing your buttons just to get a reaction. He was never particularly cruel, mostly annoying, but you figured that he hated you all the same. And because you refused to be pushed around, whatever he gave, you returned. If he was rude to you, you were rude right back. If he was passive aggressive, you accused him of being a giant baby.

Things only got worse when you started dating Jackson. Hoseok absolutely despised him and you could never figure out why. You figured it was because Jackson was quick-witted and often left Hoseok speechless, and he defended you whenever Hoseok decided to act foolishly. You never thought much of it until now, your mother’s words echoing in your head.

Had Hoseok been jealous all this time?

You try to shove the thought away, along with the butterflies that are still occupying your stomach, but to no avail. Maybe Hoseok really did like you, and maybe you like him too. Why else would he ask you to kiss him at the end of the weekend without anyone there to witness it? Surely that had to mean something.

You groan in frustration as your eyes shoot open.

You’re falling for Jung Hoseok.

In that instant, your phone buzzes. Part of you hopes it’s him, but instead it’s your brother’s name that pops up on your screen.

[Received: 10:07pm] Namjoon: The guys are all here. Are you still coming over for the countdown? We have wine

[Sent: 10:07pm] Y/N: How dare you tempt me with the devil’s juice

[Received: 10:08pm] Namjoon: Bitch

[Received: 10:08pm] Namjoon: You love wine. Come over

[Received: 10:08pm] Namjoon: Put on real people clothes. No ratty PJs allowed.

[Sent: 10:09pm] Y/N: You sound just like Dad. Fine. I’ll be over in 10

[Received: 10:10pm] Namjoon: Love you sooooo much. Jin and I are just doing some last-minute stuff, let yourself in whenever you’re ready

You heave a sigh and sit up, realizing you can’t hide from Hoseok forever. You drag yourself out of bed, quickly changing, making sure you look presentable, and trudging down the hall to Namjoon’s apartment.

You can hear the ruckus that is seven boys from behind the door once you approach. Everyone had come back from visiting their families, gathering at Namjoon and Hoseok’s, as is their tradition. You feel your palms start to sweat as you reach for the doorknob, slowly twisting it open and slipping inside.

No one seems to hear you come in, as there’s no break in conversation between the five boys situated in the living room. Jin and Namjoon are nowhere to be found, so you assume they’re still in the process of getting ready for the evening’s festivities. The television is on, showing one of the many New Year’s Eve countdown specials, some musical group performing their latest hit blaring from the speakers. You’re just about to make your presence known when you hear someone mention your name.

“Hobi, is it true that you actually went to Joon and Y/N’s cottage for the holidays?”

The voice belongs to Jimin. You peer around the corner into the living room, still going unnoticed. Hoseok is there, sitting on the couch nursing a beer.

“Yeah,” he responds gruffly, as if he doesn’t want to talk about it.

A new voice pipes up, this time belonging to Jungkook. He sounds incredulous as he asks, “Is it true that you went there posing as her boyfriend to her parents?”

Another affirmative grunt. You hear a chorus of laughter, and you can’t deny that it stings. Are they laughing at Hoseok having to spend a weekend with the person he hates the most, or are they laughing because your situation is just that pathetic?

“And how was that?” Yoongi asks as he downs the rest of his bottle of beer.

You can really only see the back of Hoseok’s head, but you can tell based on how he grips his beer a little tighter that he’s getting annoyed with his friends and their teasing. You’re about to step out from around the corner to put an end to all of it when he finally speaks up.

“Honestly? A waste of fucking time. She didn’t even put out. I figured she would be easier than that. Not that I want Jackson’s sloppy seconds anyway.”

Time stops.

You can’t breathe.

You can hear the guys speaking, but you can’t process it. You feel like you’re underwater, being dunked in a frozen lake with the ice trapping you below the surface. You don’t realize you’re crying until you hear your name being called.

“Y/N?” Namjoon asks as he pokes his head out from his bedroom. Immediately, all of the eyes in the room fall on you.

Hoseok stares at you, wide-eyed and mouth agape.

You want to throw up.

Namjoon approaches you quickly, hands coming to rest on your shoulders. “Y/N, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

You don’t break eye contact with Hoseok as you start to shake your head.

Finally, you spit out, “Fuck you, Jung Hoseok.”

You wrench yourself from your brother’s grasp and head for the door, slamming it shut on your way out.

None of it was real.

None of it was real, and you feel so absolutely fucking stupid for believing that it could have been. Every touch, every kiss, all of it was just Hoseok doing what he does best—pretend. You were right all along. All he wanted was just some sick entertainment, and to maybe lure you into bed so that he could go back to his friends and brag about it behind your back.

You make it back to your place and throw the door open, not looking back when you swing it shut with your foot. But instead of the sound of the door slamming against the wooden frame, you hear it whack against something soft. You turn and immediately become furious at the sight of Hoseok stepping foot into your private space.

You march over and shove him hard, causing him to stumble back.

“Get the fuck out of my apartment.”

You’re almost shocked at how eerily calm your voice is. But you know that the dam is about to break, and if Hoseok doesn’t leave right this minute, you’re going to unleash a tsunami upon him.

“Y/N, wait, I can explain—”

That does it.

“Explain what?” You can’t help but yell. You’re just so tired, so embarrassed, so humiliated that all you want is him to leave so that you can cry your eyes out under the covers in peace. You try to shove him again, but he’s expecting it this time, his feet planted firmly on the ground. “Explain how this whole thing was just so that you could have more ammunition to make fun of me? So that I could be another notch in your bed post? Well, guess what, I don’t want to hear it, so why don’t you just get the fuck out and leave me alone!”

Hoseok vehemently shakes his head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You bite your lip to stop from screaming at him, staring up at the ceiling in a feeble attempt to stop the tears from flowing.

“I’m asking you nicely, Hoseok,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “Please just leave, I can’t even look at you, I can’t—”

Before you can blink, he’s on you, lips pressed so firmly against yours that the contact makes your teeth click. Hoseok soothes the sting as his movements slow, his mouth coaxing a light moan from your throat. His hand lifts to cup your cheek, and for a delirious moment, you sink into the feeling of the kiss, of him kissing you.

It isn’t until you feel him tugging you against the length of his body that his words come rushing back to you in a flood of shame, anger, and hurt. You plant your hands on his chest and forcefully push him away, a resounding CRACK ringing through your apartment as a red mark in the shape of your handprint blooms across his cheek.

Hoseok is stunned, immediately letting you go. He rubs at where you’d slapped him, his lips downturned in a frown that doesn’t suit his beautiful face. He gapes at you for a few minutes before finally choking out, “What the fuck was that for?”

“Stop toying with me!” You practically wail, tears stinging your eyes. “You don’t get to just…just kiss me like that out of nowhere and pretend like everything is okay! What am I, a joke to you? Someone you can play around with and then go back and brag about to your friends?”

You take in a deep, wavering breath, shaking your head as you force yourself to look him in the eye.

“I can’t believe I trusted you.” You see Hoseok’s face fall, his hands twitching at his sides, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you imagine that it’s because he wants to reach out and touch you. You hate yourself for wanting it to be true. “I can’t believe I confided in you, that I—”

You clamp your mouth shut before the secret you’ve been holding back ever since Namjoon had introduced the two of you all those years ago slips from your tongue. This seems to spark something within Hoseok, and his face sets in determination.

“That you what?” He demands, taking a step forward. “I’m not playing around, Y/N. I wouldn’t do that. Not to you.”

“Then why did you say those things about me to the others?” You cry, hot tears streaking down your face. You helplessly swipe at them with your sleeves, hating that you’ve allowed yourself to get this emotional, that he’s seeing you break down in front of him. You turn away burying your face in your hands. “I’m so stupid, I’m so, so fucking stupid…”

You feel his arms circling you, and you start to cry harder when you feel his lips press against your crown.

“You’re not stupid,” he promises quietly, a large, warm palm rubbing gentle circles against your back. “This is real. The entire weekend with your parents—every touch, every kiss, I meant it.” He lets out a laugh. Not one of humour, but one of weary exhaustion. “You’re really gonna make me say it, aren’t you?”

You force yourself to take deep breaths, force yourself to pretend as if his touch isn’t a welcome comfort. You will the tears to cease, shakily asking, “Say what?”

Another laugh, this one followed by a short, hitched breath.

“I’m in love with you.”

You immediately try to wrestle yourself out of his hold, though his hands remain steadfast on your waist. “You what?”

His grip tightens ever so slightly, his gaze soft as he smiles down at you. “I’m in love with you.”

Your eyes search his, breath caught in your throat. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not,” he promises, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember.”

You’re too stunned to speak. How long had you dreamed of Hoseok saying those exact words to you? For him to want you, only you, for the weekend at your parents’ cottage to have been real instead of just a ruse to get your family off your back? Your eyes are still fixated on his, trying to figure out whether or not he’s telling the truth.

Hoseok must sense the thoughts racing through your mind, so he decides to continue. “When Namjoon introduced us back in high school, the first time I came over and you’d come back from soccer practice, my jaw nearly hit the floor. Namjoon figured out how I felt and warned me to stay away from you, so I kept my distance.”

Namjoon knew? Your brother knew this whole time?

“I was an asshole to you because it was the only way I knew how to get your attention. We were kids at the time, you know? Just stupid teenagers. But by the time we’d all grown up, that was just how we spoke to each other, and it was the only way I knew how to get you to even look in my direction. And then you were dating that asshole Jackson, and you just seemed so happy, and I couldn’t do anything about it.” He scoffs at himself, letting out a deep sigh. “I’m an idiot, right?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Your voice is locked up in your throat, refusing to come out. So you just stare at him, stunned.

He continues. “I shouldn’t have said what I did back there. The guys…they don’t know how I feel about you, and they wouldn’t leave me alone. I know that it was wrong, and I regretted it the second I said it. But I don’t regret spending time with you, getting to really know you, or getting to pretend like you were actually mine, if only for a few days. I know I have a lifetime to atone for, and I just need you to know that I’m going to try, if you’ll let me.”

You don’t know what to say.

Hoseok smiles nervously, one hand coming up to rake through his hair. “You know, Y/N, I’m kind of bearing my heart and soul to you here, a little feedback would be appreciated.”

You still can’t will yourself to speak, and you feel Hoseok’s hand on your waist starting to slip.

“Look, I’m really sorry, I should have just kept my fucking mouth shut. Forget I said anything, I’ll just go—”

Before he can turn, you cut him off with your hands on either side of his face and your lips against his.

Words evade you, so you hope that you can convey everything in the kiss. Hoseok melts against you, his hands holding you close, slipping under the hem of your shirt to fan across the skin of your lower back. You reach up to tangle your fingers in his hair, only pulling away for a second to catch your breath.

“Holy shit,” Hoseok pants, his breath fanning across your lips. “You just kissed—”

You kiss him again, effectively shutting him up, because there are more important things the two of you can be doing with your mouths. Hoseok sinks into the kiss, moving you backwards until he’s crowding you against the wall of your front hallway. You moan when his tongue traces along your lower lip, and you open up for him, knees nearly buckling at the sensation of the first touch against yours.

The kiss is everything you’ve dreamed of and more. You can feel the sincerity, the desire, the love as Hoseok’s movements slow, stealing all the air from your lungs. His tongue gently caresses yours as he takes control, and you can feel his eyelashes fluttering light as a feather against the curve your cheek. Your fingers card through his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. He moans into your mouth, the same erotic sound that had escaped him the first night at the cottage. Hoseok presses you more firmly against the length of his body, and you can feel his arousal against your lower stomach.

Pulling away with a great amount of reluctance, your eyes search his. All you see is the truth.

Both his, and yours.

“It was real to me too,” you confess, breathless in the best way possible. “I didn’t know I wanted it to be until you kissed me under the mistletoe, but I do. I want you, Hoseok. All of you. Deep down, I think I always have.”

The smile that spreads across his face is so beautiful and radiant that it rivals the sun. Hoseok presses his forehead against yours, and takes in a deep breath as his eyes shut. He doesn’t say anything, and you run your thumb along his cheek, pecking at his mouth.

“What is it?”

“I just…” he begins, his voice so soft and so full of emotion. You press your palms against his shoulders so that you can see him fully, and you’re shocked to see the tears clinging to his lashes. “I love you,” he confesses, and you still feel your breath hitch at the words. “I love you, and I just need a second to make sure I’m not dreaming.”

“You’re not,” you promise, smoothing out the collar of his shirt absentmindedly. You want to say those three words back to him, but you know that you’re not ready yet. There’s still years of hurt to work through, to resolve and fix. But your heart longs for him, marvels in how right it feels to be in his arms, to kiss him, to be as close to him as possible.

Hoseok seems to be able to read your mind, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against your hip. “I know I have a lot of apologizing to do,” he says, barely above a whisper. “I’d like to show you just how sorry I am, and how much I love you, if you’ll let me.”

Even after his confession, and though he’s holding you so close that nothing else but the two of you exists, you have to feebly ask, “Promise you won’t use this to make fun of me behind my back with the guys?”

Hoseok’s head hangs in shame for a second before he rises to look at you, the smile gone from his face. It’s replaced by a look of sadness, pain filtering into his gaze. “Please, Y/N. I need you to believe me when I say that I don’t want to hurt you anymore. I’ve never felt this way about anyone, ever. I’m not about to blow my chance with you for some stupid prank.”

You worry your lower lip between your teeth before you raise your hand, holding up your pinky finger. “Promise?”

A tiny smile begins to spread across his face as he holds his up as well, hooking his little finger with yours. “Promise.”

You’re not sure who leans in first after that. All you know is that his hand is cupping your jaw and you’re clinging to his shirt as he kisses you with so much love, passion, and adoration that you swear your heart is going to burst out of your chest.

Hoseok guides you in the direction of your room, and the two of you stumble along, clothes thrown overhead and shed along the way. By the time you feel Hoseok gently push you down on the bed, his shirt is off and you’re only in your bra and panties, a plain, boring white set that you wish was just a little fancier. Hoseok doesn’t seem to mind though, as he climbs over you and looks down at your body as if he wants to devour you whole.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he pants, his mouth scorching hot as he pulls bruises with his teeth along your neck and collarbone. You whine beneath him as he noses your bra strap down your shoulder, sucking and licking down the curve of your breast.

“Hobi, please,” you whimper as he tugs your bra down to expose your nipples, immediately looking you dead in the eye as he elongates his tongue and traces the very tip along the edge of your areola. He lavishes your breast with attention, his thumb grazing over your other nipple before he switches his ministrations. You arch into his mouth, and Hoseok takes the opportunity to slide his hands underneath you to unhook your bra.

He tosses it aside flippantly before pressing open mouthed kisses between the valley of your breasts, and down your stomach.

“I’ve been thinking about you ever since that first night at the cottage,” Hoseok breathes against the band of your panties, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. He tugs them down slowly, his voice deep and husky as he tries to keep himself under control.

You can tell it’s a losing battle, if his blown out pupils and the tent in his jeans are any indication.

“The things I want to do to you,” he growls, his palms spreading your legs wide so that they’re flat against the bed. You whimper out a moan as he trails kisses from your knee up your inner thigh, stopping just before where you need him most. “With my tongue…with my hands…” Hoseok runs his thumb along your dripping slit, not adding much pressure, but just a ghost of a touch to let you know that he sees what a mess you’ve already made. “Fuck, you have the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.”

“Jesus Christ,” you gasp as you feel his calloused digit swipe lightly over your swollen clit. “Hobi, please, I need more—”

He smirks up at you, and you watch as he, with all the time in the world, bends down while maintaining steady eye contact. His tongue pokes out of his mouth and he flicks the tip of it against your clit, and it’s enough to already having you buck up towards him for something, anything.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and give me what I want?” Hoseok purrs before leaning down to suck on your clit, hard. You yelp at the sensation but then he moves away, looking up at you expectantly.

You card your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly at the roots. “Yes, Hoseok, please, anything. You already have me. Please, please, I need you.”

“Mmm,” he hums, sucking on it again before backing off. Part of you wants to smack him upside the head. How is he still so infuriating? “Can’t wait to make this pussy mine. Can’t wait to claim you, to ruin you for anyone else.”

You can’t help but grumble. “I don’t know, at this point, I’m starting to believe you’re all talk—”

You’re abruptly cut off my Hoseok latching his mouth to your clit, delivering the perfect amount of pressure as he licks and sucks at your most sensitive area. You moan out something akin to his name, and it only spurs him on further. He growls against your pussy and you feel it vibrating deep in your core, your fingers grasping for purchase against his soft strands.

Your eyes flutter shut as he focuses all his attention on your clit, drawing out more and more obscene moans and whines from your lips. It’s when you feel two of his fingers sliding into your heat that your eyes fly open and you start to squirm in his grasp.

“You’re so wet, baby,” Hoseok growls as he continues to massage your inner walls with his long, deft fingers. He curls them upward until he finds what he’s looking for, the spot deep inside of you that has you keening when he presses on it. You feel him grin against your skin. “Ah, there it is.”

You’re not sure if you can survive this experience, not if he keeps talking like that. But it stirs something within you, something primal and desperate, and you buck your hips as his movements get faster and faster.

The obscene sound of his tongue flicking against your clit stops as he suddenly sits up, and you let out a whine of protest. His fingers remain inside of you but he moves so that he’s draped along your side, slightly hovering over your body. He leans in to kiss you, just as his hand starts to move. The heel of his palm beats against your clit with every thrust of his fingers, and you cry against his lips as he shifts to whisper the filthiest things into your ear.

The wet sound of his fingers fucking you and his palm slapping against your pussy fills the room and has your legs starting to shake.

“Press those legs really wide for me, baby,” Hoseok orders as his hand picks up speed. You do as he says, and to reward you, his hand fucks you a little harder. “Good girl. Fuck. I’ve been thinking of making you come all fucking week. Mmm, how does it feel, baby? How does it feel to have my fingers fuck you open, prepare you for my cock?”

You want to scream, but you can see the light at the end of the tunnel, the release that you’d so desperately been longing for rapidly approaching. Instead you whimper out a barely-there response, Hoseok’s fingers dragging brutally against your g-spot.

“Always dreamed of watching you come, of making you come. It’s all I’ve ever fucking wanted, and now I have you right where I’ve always wanted you. Now I want you to come for me. Can you do that baby? Can you come on my fingers?”

One of your hands fists the sheets while the other holds him close, nudging him with your nose until he gets the hint to kiss you.

“Come for me,” he murmurs into the kiss, and you feel your walls begin to clench down on him.  The fluttering begins, and Hoseok’s tone becomes gentle, almost reverent. “Good girl,” he praises as he feels the beginnings of your orgasm. “Good girl, come on, come on…”

You come with a scream, bucking your pussy against his palm as he helps you ride out the pleasure. Shockwaves tear through you as Hoseok extends your orgasm for as long as possible, peppering your face and neck with kisses as you finally start to come down.

“Mmm, baby, look at you,” Hoseok purrs, sliding his fingers out of your wet heat and holding them up so you can see how they glisten in the dim light. “Open your mouth for me, Y/N.”

You do as you’re told, and you see his nostrils start to flare as he slides his fingers into your mouth and you suck the evidence of your own bliss off his skin. His prominent Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, removing is fingers before he kisses you for all he’s worth. Your fingers tremble as you struggle with his belt, still feeling lightheaded from his earlier ministrations. Hoseok eventually just lifts himself off the bed and shucks off his jeans and boxers in one go, abandoning them in a pile on the floor as he palms his hardened cock.

You sit up on your elbows as he places a knee back on the bed, and you bite your lip at his size. Hoseok is gorgeous, truly having a dancer’s body. He’s streamlined and lean, and his cock is thicker than you expect. He strokes himself steadily while gazing upon you like a wolf about to pounce on a rabbit.

“How do you want it?”

You bite your lip before reaching over to gently grasp his wrist. “I want to see you.”

Hoseok nods as you sit up fully and open the drawer to your bedside table to retrieve a condom from your stash. You open the foil and help slide it down his length, watching with a hint of smugness as his eyes roll back in his head when you squeeze his shaft. Once it’s rolled on all the way to his base, he nudges you to lie back, and you part your thighs for him once more.

He lets out a groan, hooking your legs over his elbows, before he leans forward, the head of his cock brushing against your still-sensitive lips. “I still can’t believe this is finally happening,” he chuckles breathlessly as he effectively folds you in half, leaving you completely open and exposed for him. You reach down to guide him in, your other hand cupping the back of his neck as he rests his forehead against yours.

You feel the head of his cock parting your lips and then the delicious sting of him slowly filling you up. You don’t realize you’re both holding your breath until Hoseok releases a choked moan and you whimper out his name in response. You take him, inch by delicious inch, until you feel his pelvis pressing flush against yours.

He takes a moment to just breathe through the feeling of your tight, wet heat wrapped around him, and it allows for you to adjust to his girth inside of you. Once you feel ready, you peck at his mouth as a signal to move.

More proof that Hoseok is a dancer—his hips, once they start to roll into you, are absolutely fucking deadly. He fucks you like he’ll never get the chance again, like it’s his last day on Earth and he wants you writhing beneath him to be his final memory. Your nails scrape along his back as he starts out slow, his cock filling you so perfectly, going even deeper than his fingers had just moments before.

You also notice that when Hoseok isn’t whispering into your ear with the some of the filthiest shit you’ve ever heard, he cannot stop kissing you. It’s almost as if he can’t believe you’re real, and the feeling of your lips against his grounds him in a way that he just can’t explain.

He starts to pick up the pace, his hips slamming against yours with more vigour. “How does it feel, baby?” He grunts, grinding into you. “How does it feel to have my cock buried deep inside of you?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond as he braces his knees against the bed and starts to fuck you harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling your ears. You moan as he nips at your jaw, your nails dragging long, angry red marks along the honeyed skin of his back.

You’ve never seen Hoseok like this before in all the years that you’ve known him. His brow is furrowed in concentration, forehead dotted with sweat. You can tell that he’s trying to hold himself back as he explores every inch of your body, worshipping and revering you like he goddess he knows that you are.

“Your pussy is so fucking wet,” he praises, sucking in harsh breaths as he pounds into you, the bed frame creaking under the force of his thrusts. You’re helpless beneath him, and you see the veins in his neck start to protrude as he starts to lose control.

“Baby, I’m so close,” you keen, pushing his sweaty bangs out of his face.

“Yeah?” He asks, even though he can tell that you’re almost there. He presses the full length of his body against yours and fucks you until there’s nothing left in the entire universe but you and him. “Come with me, baby.”

When you come for the second time, you come harder than you ever have before. You scream out his name as you cling to him for dear life, your back arching clear off the bed as you feel wetness coating you both. Hoseok nearly chokes as he comes, burying himself deep inside of you as he spills into the condom, pinning you to the mattress as your name falls repeatedly from his lips.

Hoseok collapses on top of you, effectively squishing you under the weight of his body. You pout and squirm, nudging at his shoulders, though his spent body makes no effort to move.

“Hobi,” you whine with an air of laughter in your voice, limbs going limp. “Get off.”

“Let me just…bask in this for a second,” he pants, face still buried in the crook of your neck. “I’ve never made a girl squirt before.”

“Oh my god,” you wheeze, shoving at his shoulders. He moves off of you and you roll onto your stomach, burying your face in your pillow. He takes the opportunity to peel off the condom, tying it in a knot and tossing it in the trash. You say something, but it’s muffled by the fabric and Hoseok can’t help but giggle.

“I can’t hear you, dumb-dumb.”

You lift your face, but then cover it with your hands. “I’m so sorry. I’ve never done that before.”

“Sorry?” Hoseok asks, rising slightly before wrapping his arms around you and tugging you flush against him. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, and the best sex I’ve ever hand, and you’re trying to apologize?”

You peer at him through the gap in your fingers. “It’s embarrassing.”

Hoseok wrenches your hands away from your face and kisses you before you can protest.

“Believe me when I tell you that it was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. You don’t need to be ashamed of yourself, or your body, or anything. I love you. Every part of you.”

You bite your lip and look away, knowing you’re unable to say the three words that you know Hoseok wants to hear more than anything. But again, sensing your discomfort, he lifts his hand to brush your hair away from your face.

“Don’t feel guilty,” he says quietly, stroking his thumb along your cheek. “You don’t have to say it back. I hope that one day you will, but I don’t expect you to reciprocate right away.”

Your eyes bore into his, and you wonder why this version of Hoseok couldn’t have been the one you’d met when you were sixteen. You lean in and kiss him so softly and so shyly that it’s barely there. But when you pull away, he’s smiling at you. That beautiful, radiant smile that makes you glad you’re lying down because it makes you weak in the knees.

“I’m getting there,” you promise, nose brushing against his. And you know it to be true. Even as you’re in his arms now, nestled perfectly like you were always meant to exist in his hold, you’re falling, falling falling. You just need some more time. But you know you’ll get there, if his tiny, hopeful smile is any indication.

You suddenly start to hear a ruckus from the hall, and also loud cheers from street level outside. You rise slightly, trying to peer over at your alarm clock, but Hoseok drags you back down with a pout.

“Clean up later. I’m comfy.”

“What time is it?” You ask, ignoring his petulant frown.

Hoseok caves and rolls over, emitting a small noise of surprise. “11:59.”

Then you hear people starting to count down.

10!

9!

Hoseok turns back to you, his eyes wide and shining as he takes you in, still basking in the after glow.

8!

7!

6!

You smile at him, the tiniest tear clinging to your lashes, and as you blink, Hoseok wipes it away with his thumb before it can tumble down your cheek.

5!

He leans in closer…

4!

Your eyes slowly close as you slide your hand along the back of his neck…

3!

His arms pull you in until there’s no space between you…

2!

You feel his warm breath fanning across your lips…

1!

Happy New Year!

The clock strikes midnight just as Hoseok kisses you, fireworks exploding just outside to ring in the new year. You lose yourself in the feel of him once more, in the taste of his tongue as it glides along the seam of your mouth. You don’t protest as he rolls on top of you, his thigh pressing between yours to spread your legs yet again.

When his questing hand blindly reaches out for the drawer of your bedside table, you detach from him momentarily to pant out, “Shouldn’t we go back and rejoin the others?”

Hoseok merely chuckles, tearing open another condom. “Screw the others,” he grins, and you can’t help but bite your lip in anticipation as you feel his arousal growing stiffer between your thighs. “I have a lot of lost time to make up for. They can wait.”

And as he pushes inside of you again, you can’t help but agree. You’d spent so long feeling so sad and so lost, you’d nearly forgotten what it was like to experience true happiness, and true bliss.

But as Hoseok worships your body and makes you forget about the outside world, you figure that you deserve to cling to whatever small piece of joy that you can. And you do—over and over, until the sun comes up and neither of you have the strength or energy to carry on.

Even after all of that though, Hoseok still bugs you to run your fingers along his arms and chest to help him fall asleep. You snort and call him a brat, to which he taunts you by saying you’re going to need to buy extra sets of sheets for every time he comes over.

You just shake your head as he drifts off, snoring softly, looking more and more like an angel as slumber finally takes him. You press a kiss to his forehead and nuzzle against him, his arms automatically wrapping around you, even in sleep. You sigh with a smile, relaxing in his grasp. You know that you still have a ways to go, but with Hoseok by your side, you finally feel ready to step into the sun.

Happy New Year, indeed.

A/N: It is FINALLY DONE! This is the longest one-shot I’ve ever written. I meant to have this out sooner, but you know how life is sometimes. I hope you enjoyed! And I hope you all had a happy and safe new year. Drop me a line and let me know what you think!  Please share if you liked it!<3

#jung hoseok #hoseok x reader #hoseok fanfic #hoseok fanfiction #jhope #jhope x reader #jhope fanfic #jhope fanfiction #jhope smut #hoseok smut #bts au fanfic #bts smut #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts fluff #hoseok fluff #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #bts

[mexicancat-girl]

Still Waters Run Deep

A birthday fic for @chadsuke ​ / @ftcoye ​! 

The last time I've written serious Naruto fanfiction was 2015, so I blame them for this.

I wanted to write something as a thank-you​ for them being one of the best writers for the Naruto fandom. Their fics always bring me joy. Their characterizations are amazing. Their wlw fics are galaxy brain. 

AO3 Link (here)

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...

Mei Terumi could feel a headache coming on.

It was not over the current war effort, thankfully. Mostly because said war effort had managed to defeat their opponents, ie: a snake-possessed necromancer, a thought-to-be-dead megalomaniac, an impossibly hard-to-kill plant man, a self-made Jinchuriki, and a literal rabbit Goddess.

Truth be told, anyone should be having a headache from such an insane repertoire of God-like beings managing to cripple five nations worth of forces. Or, well, any sane person—and Mei likes to think herself as rightfully sane, thank you very much.

She is, after all, the person who stopped a tyrannical Kage from furthering destroying her home nation from the inside out. And, you know, committing even more genocide. So, there was that.

Thankfully, she is the current Mizukage. The Fourth Shinobi World War is done and over with. They have won. They are alive.

But Mei hasn’t survived this long without being able to see the big picture or think a few steps ahead. She wouldn’t have been able to dismantle Yagura’s forces and managed to beat him down and kill him, otherwise.

Every nation has suffered great losses from this war. They’d nearly been fighting an unwinnable battle ten times over. All the current survivors were no doubt suffering from massive psychological if not physical damage, having had to watch their comrades fall before them in variously gruesome ways.

That’s without accounting for the people who watched as their dead comrades and family were raised from the dead to fight against them. Then with them. Then having their bodies crumble as the jutsu keeping them going burned out, the stolen minutes with loved ones lost making things either healing or unbearable, depending on the person.

Quite frankly, it was an exhausting debacle for all involved, in ways that most of them had not—could not—have accounted for. They were all pushed to their limits physically, mentally, and emotionally.

And while the threats were finally vanquished, it’s not over yet. Not by a long shot.

Because after this, they must bury the dead. Heal their wounded.

Then after that, they have to figure out where the hell to go from here. How to just…move on.

Sure, the shinobi nations all teamed up together against this major threat. But what comes after…?

How will they deal with war criminals like Orochimaru of the Sannin? Like Kabuto Yakushi? Like Sasuke Uchiha?

How will they go about making a peace treaty? Will there be a peace treaty? They’ve come together to fight in this war, yes, but that was out of necessity. So that the entire world did not fall into chaos. This rare show of unity can hardly erase decades of bloodshed and ill will and complicated history between the Elemental Nations.

It’s all a rather nerves-inducing line of questioning that, sadly, they must consider. Especially those in positions of power and authority. Since Mei is Mizukage, she’ll no doubt have to weather all of that.

For any and all possible talks of peace, the Kage will be involved, of course, because that’s a no-brainer. But who else will be pulled into the discussions? The war tacticians? The Nations’ daimyo? The very teenagers that felled a God and saved them all? Probably. Most likely.

Mei Terumi can barely stand talking to Water Country’s daimyo on a good day. Add in the daimyo of the other Nations—all ridiculously spoiled, ludicrously rich, greedy old men—will eat away at her will to live. No doubt they’ll bicker over who will cover the costs of reparations, and about how much aid should be granted to their shinobi villages, and blah blah blah.

Kill her now…

Mei likes to think that she is perfectly reasonable. That she can keep a level head, and bullshit with the best of them. That she is strong enough to get her point across without being callously cruel—and that just because she has compassion, it shouldn’t be considered a weakness.

Her nation has lived under tyranny and pain and tumultuously bloody waters for far too long. She does not want to rule with an iron fist, but still wants to be strong and cutthroat enough to protect her people and keep others in check. She’s sure she can lead her village—her country, her home—to a better tomorrow.

She’s sure that not everyone else thinks that. Many people see what they like to see, and they see a beautiful woman who acts coquettishly and dresses up. They see a woman who happens to have two powerful kekkei genkai. She must have gotten lucky, right? She must have seduced and swayed enough men to her side to do her bidding, for her to be Mizukage. She must have gotten in a good shot with her two bloodlines, to take out the previous Mizukage.

Mei is a perfectly reasonable person, and she is competent, and she is strong, and she happens to be quite a good leader thank you very much.

She’s also fairly certain that no matter how hard she tries, she will not be held in the same regard simply because she is a woman in a world of men.

Case in point: even if the daimyo don’t get involved with the peace treaties, there’s the other Kage to worry about. Mei would like to think that she’s got the patience to deal with them and the coy poker-face to back it up, but they’re all rather…hm. Eclectic is the most diplomatic word she can think of.

Onoki is an old coot who wouldn’t know innovation and progressiveness if it bit him on his fat red nose. Ā is, quite frankly, a bullheaded asshole who has negative tact and is constantly grandstanding to compensate for his probably small dick. Two patronizing, utterly misogynistic bastards that would rather butt heads and yell for an entire meeting than take any form of suggestions because they had sticks shoved that far up their own asses.

They were downright incorrigible.

There was also the third male of the group to worry about, though admittedly in a completely different sense.

Gaara speaks carefully and is perfectly polite, very willing to listen to others on top of that. He’s proven himself to be a good leader and oddly fantastic motivational speaker—kid could probably move an entire mountain range if he asked the ground nicely enough— strong in his own right. But there’s still the fact that he’s just a teenager.

He’s only been Kazekage for about, what, two years? Sure, that’s longer than Mei’s been Mizukage by double, but she’s been spearheading the Kiri Rebellion for a solid number of years before-hand. She’s led squadrons and held the lives of hundreds in her hands while Gaara was still stuck in school or private lessons. Suna scrambled in the time it took to train up a replacement after their Kage was assassinated by Orochimaru, lucky enough to find someone as strong as Gaara to take the mantel. But that doesn’t hide the fact that he’s the most inexperienced of them, made a Kage all at sixteen, barely seventeen now.

Despite everything he’s done to prove himself in the war—and having proven himself at least a good five times over, at that— Gaara’s age will always be an obstacle he has to overcome. Onoki and Ā certainly didn’t consider him a threat to their grandstanding and bullshit for just that reason, using seniority as to why they considered their own peon brains to be greater than Gaara’s.

Gaara is someone who’s willing to listen to reason, but Mei cannot count on him to be her main support. To act as a tiebreaker, possibly. But Onoki and Ā look down on him nearly the same amount as they look down on Mei herself. The fact that he is young puts him on the same level of Mei being a woman, in their misogynistic views.

The only person she can count on to have any Gods-forsaken sense is Tsunade Senju, and for good reason.

Tsunade is older than all of them but Onoki, and she certainly has the strength and experience to back herself up. She hasn’t been a Kage for as long as Onoki and Ā, but her strength is literally legendary and she’s well-travelled and intelligent, which is more than either man can claim. She’s one of the Sanin, and she revolutionized Medic Ninjutsu across the entirety of the Elemental Nations, for Gods’ sakes.

If not for Tsunade being temporarily incapacitated during her tenure, she’d have a spotless record.

As it is, she cuts through bullshit like a sharpened kunai through butter. Nothing cows her. No men will get her to back down, and certainly not men she could crush with her bare hands.

Tsunade is so competent and amazing, Mei’s possibly even a little in love. But that’s natural, isn’t it? It’s Tsunade Senju, after all. Mei’s sure everyone is a little starstruck when in the presence of such a force of nature.

In fact, Mei quickly finds that the first post-war meeting with Tsunade is probably the smoothest and most productive meeting between the Kage yet, no doubt since the founding of the Hidden Villages themselves!

And it’s all because Tsunade Senju takes no prisoners. When she sets out to do something, she gets it done.

Onoki and Ā are quick to start bickering about reparation costs and whining about treaties like the utterly braindead, paranoid bastards they are.

But, oh no. That doesn’t long very long with Tsunade around.

The blonde woman slams her palm on her desk with careful restraint, as the wood doesn’t shatter on impact. She leans over it, stares straight into Onoki and Ā’s eyes with an intensity that would make lesser men shit their pants.

And then, speaking in a tone that brooked no argument, “My grandfather, Hashirama Senju, God of Shinobi, could tame the Tailed Beasts. He first created the Ninja Villages for peace. He was literally re-animated to fight by our side, in the flesh. Alongside my student, one of the teenagers that helped kill a God because the world couldn’t shut the fuck up for two seconds and stop fighting. We. Are. Going. To. Have. Peace.”

Both men closed their mouths, in-synch, with audible clicks of their teeth.

For once, they are silent, and it’s utterly delightful.

“As someone who stopped a bloody civil war and the massacre of bloodlines, in order to bring peace to their own Village, I concur,” Mei agrees calmly, flashing a sweet smile with a hint more teeth than polite. Normally, she would have more constraint, but she is so damn giddy, she can’t help herself but jumping at the weakness like a shark smelling blood.

(She may be kinder than the past Mizukage by leagues, but she is still the leader of the Bloody Mist. She’ll find a way to reform her Village so it’s no longer known as the Bloody Mist, but they are still the most ruthless of the Ninja Villages by far.

That is to say: when Mei sees an obvious weak point, a chance to sink her teeth it, well. She’ll take it. She’s not all looks, after all. She’s as ruthless as the rest of them.)

Onoki and Ā narrow their eyes at Mei, their lips thinned as they frown disapprovingly and grumpily at her—no doubt for her daring to speak.

But before they can protest, Gaara comes in clutch, as the tiebreaker that Mei had been hoping for.

Hands clasped in front of himself and looking much older than his seventeen years, the Kazekage nods solemnly. “I agree.”

One meeting.

One meeting is all it takes to make the peace talks officially under way, and Mei cannot be more relieved.

She might just have to send Tsunade a complimentary fruit basket or something, as a thank-you. The Sanin has managed to nearly singlehandedly dismantle the bullshit of grandstanding and dick-measuring that the meetings would have devolved into, if not for her directness.

Besides, it was impossible for Onoki and Ā to ever compare, anyways.

After all, Tsunade very obviously had the biggest dick out of them all, just by proxy of how she conducted herself alone.

It’s also helpful to have someone that the saviors of the world so clearly respect and look up to. Sakura Haruno was literally Tsunade’s student. Naruto Uzumaki calls her ‘granny’. Sasuke Uchiha is wary around her and stands as far as possible from the woman that he can— without both appearing rude and leaving the side of his friends.

So yes, it was an absolute blessing to have Tsunade as the Hokage, if only because it made everything so much easier for Mei to handle as the Mizukage in political meetings.

Women have to stick together, after all, in a world of men.

But hopefully, they’ll help usher in a future where women are given the opportunities to be able to be equals with men. Being female Kage certainly helps start that.

The future is looking bright to Mei already.

...

#gift fic #mei terumi #tsunade senju #Sabaku No Gaara #onoki (naruto) #A (naruto) #naruto shippuden #post canon #naruto fic #chadsuke #ftcoye #implied femslash #wlw #femslash #sorry for the lateness of this #but im posting this and crashing #mexicat writes #me being dumb

[howdoyoudothedew]

Another long SPN post

This time it’s notes from my WIPs. I never actually really wrote any of these, but tags and titles are included. Anyone can use these as starting points for a fanfic, have fun

Henry/Balthazar Summary: When Henry’s mentor, Benny, doesn’t return from the war Henry is saddened. He refuses to believe Benny died. Won’t even entertain it. On the way to find his missing mentor/father figure, he meets Balthazar. A strange man with a british accent and a habit of flirting with everyone, especially him. He finds Benny. He finds love. THen Balthazar tells him he’s from another time period and has to go. The last chapter is Balthazar saving Henry from Abaddon. Side note: Henry has blue eyes that Balthy apparently likes to wax poetic about Chapter One The day’s circled on his calendar. ‘Benny comes home’. That would be today. Or, it would’ve been. He had gotten the letter a week ago. ‘Benjamin Lafitte died in the war. We send our condolences.’ The letter, of course, wasn’t actually as cold and unfeeling as that. But it didn’t matter. Because it felt like that. It felt like someone had taken him and shoved him in an ice bath. He couldn’t believe the letter. He wouldn’t believe the letter. Benny had promised he’d live through this war. And if he had to find him, then by golly he’d find him. Even if he had to do it on his own. Henry snuck out of the bunker that night. A pack of food was the only thing he brought with him. That, and a picture of him and Benny. No one caught him on the way out. He knew the passages too well. He stole a bike from the garage, and left. There would be no note left in his absence. No trace of where he’d gone. Because if he’d left one, he worried that they’d try to find him. Find him and drag him back. But he couldn’t go back. Not now. Not without Benny. New section He’d been on the hunt for four days now. Had traveled from Lebanon, Kansas to Chattanooga, Tennessee and was slowly making his way to the Georgia coastline. His plan was to check coastal cities first. Then he’d work inwards till he covered all of the US. He only hoped Benny would return here and not go to another country. This is where he runs into Balthazar It’s when he’s asking a bartender if he’d ever seen Benny, while showing his picture Balthy comes up to him and says “Are you from around here, because you’re a perfect ten.”

----

Don't Make Bets With Love Goddesses Five chapters Alternative meeting, canon divergent, Gabriel is Loki, Aphro has her son arrow multiple people, but Gabe bypasses them all “You cheated!” “That never seemed to matter to you before, now how did I cheat?” “Eros shot Sam with an arrow!” “My son’s arrow never touched the Winchester.” Everyone has what the humans would call a ‘soulmate’, not everyone finds them and they're not always romantic. It looks like Gabe found his, though.

Chapter One Explains how Loki has messed around, yet has never fallen in love “I will never fall in love” the Norse god boasted. He was talking out of his ass, and Aphrodite knew it. Loki bets Aphrodite that he will never fall in love She accepts with a wicked twinkle in her eye Aphro has never been able to pass up bets, especially when they deal with love He was close once, with Kali, but it ultimately fell flat It didn’t even actually fall flat with Gabe, but with Kali who could sense his growing attachment and cut off their involvement before it could happen. They had made a promise to each other that their thing would remain ‘no strings attached’. Then years where nothing happens

Chapter Two Sam enters the scene He’s tall and handsome; funny, sarcastic, witty. And he’s one of the only people Gabe has ever met that won’t take his crap. That will see right through it. Gabriel vows right then and there that he won’t fall in love with Sam.

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Different Circumstances Summary: Where the first meeting isn't of a boy with demon blood and an archangel, hidden as a trickster god, disguised as a janitor. Nor is the second meeting, or the third, or even the fifth. Until suddenly it is and the world seems just that much more messed up. Six chapters Tags: Canon divergent, Canon universe, 5 + 1 format, fluff, angst

Chapter One High school Gabe is the ‘bad kid’ They bond over pranks, and Gabe teaches Sam a few tricks

Chapter Six Sam connects all the dots and realizes the few people he had met in his life, the ones other than Jess that he had clicked with on automatic, were all the same person. Where all the trickster, Loki the god of mischief, and Gabriel the messenger of God. He hadn’t even clicked with Jess as quickly as he had seemed to click with each and every version of Gabe he had met. And now he was gone.

----

To Heal A Soul Summary: Castiel isn't the only angel who tried to save Sam Winchester from the Cage. But while Castiel got a body, the other found only a soul. Tiny and broken, frayed at the edges, yet still somehow alive curled up in the corner of the Cage. Gabe keeps and heals Sam’s soul until he feels that it could be replaced with minimum consequences, when he does replace it there is still a battle. Gabe can’t help him with this battle, none of Team Free Will can. Gabe's dog is Max Chapter One Gabe gets Sam’s soul, just his soul, from the Cage because he knows what’ll happen if he puts his soul back in his body after Lucifer had ripped it out Sam gets a different… form type thing. Like, I don’t know Gabe uses pagan magic to give Sam a body like his own Explains to Sam the situation

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Stacy’s Dad (Lafittz) Tags: help me for i know not what im doing, i love this song and had to do this though, babysitter!garth, single father!benny, female teen oc, benny is older than garth by a few years, dilf!Benny, Notes: I'm sorry for the dilf tag, but I thought of it and it was too funny to me to not include it. Garth’s turned twenty a day ago, and is babysitting Benny’s kid (she’s twelve, so it’s not exactly babysitting) Benny’s thirty (his wife and him had Stacy when they were eighteen, they married right out of high school) Garth asks Benny out, saying that he promised him when he was eleven he’d go out with him when he turned twenty Stacy and Garth go to the pool, where Benny may work as a lifeguard Or, Stacy met Garth during her freshman year and they hit it off immediately as friends But Stacy liked Garth, and when he met Stacy’s dad it was practically love at first sight. (Because he's mushy like that) Or Benny and Andrea had her at sixteen, and Benny was estatic. Sure, it was early and he wasn't sure if he was ready, but he'd be damned if he didn't try to be a good father.

----

Scarecrow Summary: Remake where Cas is a “hunter” who Dean picks up on the way to ----, he's working the same case and they decide to pretend to be a couple to solve it. Also, instead of Meg, Sam runs into Gabriel because he picks him up on the road before he got to Meg. Sam’s part is inspired in part by the honeythief amv. Tags: s01e11 Scarecrow, rewrite, i tried, canon divergent, canon hopping, beginning unchanged, fake/pretend relationship, bonding(????) Dean picks up Cas either along the road (a parallel of their brothers) or at the food place he and Sammy split A man slid into the seat Sam had vacated, black hair Dean could only describe as bedroom hair, piercing blue eyes, and a trenchcoat. “So you're going after the missing couples, too?” The other couple isn't there, instead the people there immediately assume they're a couple Cas immediately goes with it and when Dean asks about it later he simply shrugs and explains that this job seemed to require some falsehood

---- Short ficlet where they find Narnia. “I thought you'd already been to Narnia given how deep inside the closet you are,” Gabriel joked.

----

Sabriel Anniversary Sam: Gabriel, I figured we could go where I first fell in love with you. Gabriel: Sam, I'd rather not… Sam: Why not? Gabriel: I have bad memories there. Sam, in surprise: Bad memories? I mean , sure we tried to kill you Gabriel: Lucifer killed me. Sam: Oh… Oh! You were thinking Elysian Fields? I meant Crawford Hall! Gabriel: What? Sam nervously rubs the back of his neck while looking away: Yeah… Could never really get you out of my head after that. *looks back at him* Even when I really wanted to. ----

Everytime they find Gabriel again, Sam wants to ask Gabriel to help. He wants him to stay. Though he tells himself it's not for him, but the world. But then they leave him behind in that ring of holy fire. And he… dies. At the hands of Lucifer. Sam thinks that's it. But then he shows up again, only to save him and leave him. (But it wasn't just him- it was Castiel as well, he has to remind himself for the next few weeks till it sticks.) So this time Sam swallows everything down, and he tells himself it's okay. Gabriel would've never stayed. And that's fine. Then Gabriel's back again, and he finally agrees to be on their team. He finally agrees to simply stay, even if it isn't for him. So of course he has to die all over again. ----

A rebound. Gabriel knows that's exactly what this is. After knowing Sam for all these years, he can read him. Read him easier than he can read himself. Heck, he knew Jess and Sam’d date the second he saw them together. And just as he knew, a month later they were dating. So yeah, Gabriel knew how to read Sam and how he felt about others. Romantic feelings just weren't there for him. Sure, Sam sounded sincere. He truly believed he liked Gabriel, and Gabriel knew that. But he knew his best friend and he knew the feelings were just his body’s half-assed attempt at fixing whatever hole Jess had left him with that he refused to recognize.

“I'm not ready.” It's not a lie. Gabriel isn't ready to date anyone, even if he loves Sam with all his heart. But he refused to be a rebound. He told the girlfriend Sam has before Jess- Ruby- as much when she gave him her twisted blessing after Sam broke up with her. If Sam knew that's what he was looking for in Gabriel, it would crush him. The poor kid would feel terrible, and Gabriel knows it. That is something he won't allow. Sam deserved happiness, but it couldn't be with him. Not now. Maybe not ever.

---- Crime Cleaners crime scene cleaners sam and dean who get roped into something well above their paygrade by two particular Novaks, possible villain being Luci and Lilith, who is his 'queen' they definitely get help from their friend Bobby and the Novak's friends Charlie, Rowena, and Rowena's girlfriend, the coroner Billie Or, serial killers God and his Righteous Man, who are secretly Dean and Cas. Gabe and Sam are the ones trying to find them.

----

John Winchester and Chuck Shurley meet the parents thing. John first meets Cas, and Dean explains that Cas is his husband. Then he meets Gabriel, Sam’s bondmate-husband- and an archangel. When he mentions how weird this is, Gabriel is the one who points out that “If you think it's weird that your son in laws are angels, just remember that their father in law is literally God.”

----

Normal au, Gabriel shows up out of nowhere because he has to do a blood sugar test to check for diabetes or some shit and he just grabs Sam: “I need your blood.”

#supernatural #sabriel #destiel #laffitz #henthazar #spn prompts #spn fic ideas