warnings: mild angst, dejected vi, friends to lovers? (idk lmao).
blurb: you present your favorite regular with an offer she just cannot refuse — hopefully she doesn’t refuse.
authors note: i literally can’t get modern vi out of my mind. i’m obsessed w her. this wasn’t intentionally the direction for this, BUT I WENT FOR IT and it might be multiple parts bc i want smut lol. also i kinda hate writing in third person, but i certainly tried :D
mini series: part one, part two, part three, part four
Between the two cities that majorly differed each other, sat the Whiskey Lantern. A bar that gathered lots of traction from both cities — bringing two different types of people together for a good ‘ole drink. And, maybe, even a laugh. It was the mediator between the Piltovian’s and Zaunite’s. Sure, fights and arguments still occurred, but it wasn’t as frequent as people would believe. After all, a bar’s a bar. There’s going to be fights.
It’s popularity was good for business, as much as it was for you individually. When the richer customers gradually became intoxicated, it was easy for you to mooch some extra cash out of them. You were native to Zaun — it was simply second nature. But it was all in good fun. You were one of the few gifted bartenders.
You truly had a knack for it. With efficiency and precision, you managed to woo the consumers — which earned you regulars and recommendations. People would come into the bar, simply asking for you specifically. It could’ve been your beauty, gift of gab, or the obvious talent you had for making drinks. You didn’t care as long as you had gotten the money you deserved.
Tonight, it was just you and another girl — her name was Elora. She had flustered energy when things would get hectic at the bar top, but she wasn’t too prideful to not ask for help. Easily, she was given grace because, after all, this was her second job. Elora was an assistant to a secretary of Piltover, but it wasn’t paying as much as she’d hoped. She didn’t work as often as you, but she managed quite nicely. And she was quick learner, which was a breath of fresh air for you.
The atmosphere of the bar was a little busy, but not unbearably busy. Elora took to one side of the bar, and you did the other side.
You poured the ingredients into the shaker, listening to the live music that played on the platform many feet away from you. Carrying out the orders you’d taken, as quickly as possible. You weren’t the type to leave people waiting — and you also preferred to make solid drinks. So, you had to be quick and accurate.
Humming along to the rehearsed tune playing, you poured the drink into a short glass. Garnishing it with mint leaves and a thinly sliced lime. “Here ‘ya go, sir!” You announced, loudly enough to be heard over the loud instruments being played. He took it, taking a sip of the mojito as soon as it was placed into his fingers. He nodded at you, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out two twenty’s, smacking them on the bar top. “Oh, no- you already have an open tab.” Her waved his hand, pushing the bills towards you. “It’s fine! You deserve a forty for this masterpiece!” With that he took his drink walking away from the bar.
Gotta love Piltovian’s.
Shamelessly, you slide the bills into your fingers, tucking it into the back pockets of your shorts. You snickered, taking the damp towel off of your shoulder. Working in sticky areas was never your forte, so you tried to clean as much as could. You wiped down some of the leaky bottles and tried to clean some of the extra glasses. The music entrancing you as you kept your workspace tidy and ready for the next customer.
“You come here often?”
You looked up at the sound of a familiar voice, a smile slowly rising onto your lips. Tossing the towel into a laundry bin under the bar top, you turned towards the voice. Her longer magenta strands were pulled back with an elastic, her shorter pieces framing her heart-shaped face. An oversized sweatshirt covering the top of her body — hiding the evidence of her strength. “Very funny, Vi.”
Naturally, you leaned your palms on the wood across from her. Violet leaning forward on her elbows, looking up at your taller frame. “I know. I’m hilarious.” She shrugged, shutting her grey eyes briefly. You just snickered, pushing off the bar reaching for the glasses. “You want your usual? Or something different tonight?” You asked, polishing a short glass between your hands.
Violet happened to be one of your regulars — one of favorites. Actually, your only favorite. It wasn’t because of of what she paid you, because frankly, it wasn’t that much. You always discounted her simply for being a friend and not just a customer. And because you’re familiar with her money situation. It was very tight, but you found it endearing that she wanted to come and see you. Sometimes she wouldn’t even buy a drink. She’d just come to talk until closing.
She’d always get a whiskey sour — every time. If not that, then a fireball shot. That was if she was there to really have a good time. Or she was trying to destress and suppress. “The usual... Maybe with a fireball shot on the side?” Violet batted her thick eyelashes, a slight curl at the edges of her lips.
“That kinda night, huh?” You raised an eyebrow, immediately getting to work. Eyes flickering from the pending drink in your hands, and the girl tiredly leaning against the bar. She nodded, tapping her fingers against the sticky wood. “Well, a whiskey sour and a fireball coming right up... Make that two fireballs.” You hummed, shaking the mixture over your shoulder.
Her smokey eyes lit up, looking at the girl behind the bar. “Woah, I never asked for two shots.”
“Yeah, because one’s for me.” The corner of your lips curled, glancing at her with amused eyes.
“You’re allowed to drink on the job?” Vi inquired, wearily. Her bottom lip going between her teeth.
It wasn’t that you were technically allowed, but it was always a rule to engage with your customers. As long as you didn’t get drunk, it shouldn’t be much of a problem. “As long as I don’t get drunk, I’ll be fine.” You informed, pouring the mixed alcohol into the short glass that harbored a block of ice. You garnished the drink, placing it in front of her with a skinny straw. “I would just hate to be the reason behind you getting fired.”
“Vi, seriously, don’t worry about it. If I get drunk off my ass on the job — it’s my fault, not yours.” You placed two fireball shots in front of her, giving her a humored gaze. Violet takes a sip of the whiskey sour, pushing it to the side to grab the shot glass. You take it between your fingers as well, winking at the pinkette. The two of you clink the glass, just before downing the intoxicating substance. You coughed lightly, pulling an ugly face. “Whew.” You breathed, placing a hand your chest.
Violet exhales, slamming the glass back onto the wooden bar top. You remove the glasses, placing them in the rapid cleaner. “Now, tell me... Why the long face?”
She inhales, sipping her whiskey sour slowly. A look of dejection appearing in her smokey eyes. Your own soften, leaning on the counter, getting closer to the young woman. “Why the long face? Heh, I wouldn’t wanna take up your time.” Vi dryly chuckles, shaking her head and avoiding eye contact.
“You wouldn’t be taking up anything, because I asked you.” She looked up, pushing the stray pieces of hair back behind her pierced ear. “Ugh, I got laid off, okay?”
“Oh, shit.”
“Yeah,”
“I’m sorry, Vi. That really sucks.” You furrowed your eyebrows, biting the skin of your lip. “Is there anything that I can do?”
Violet shook her head, taking a big gulp of the whiskey from the glass. You and her had only really talked during your shift — well, you were always working. And if not working, then sleeping. Working late nights at a bar really tired you out.
What you knew of her, is that she did competitive boxing. It wasn’t as lucrative to begin with, because she didn’t have much promotion. Her trainer was a family member, and she just didn’t want to let him go. It wasn’t your place to advise her that she should have, but... She probably should have. “If I don’t get a job in the next two months... I’m probably gonna be evicted. But, hey, no worries.”
“I think I need another shot...” Vi downed the rest of the whiskey sour, tapping her fingers on the bar top. You chuckled halfheartedly, removing the glass and beginning to make another fireball shot.
While making the easy shot drink, you couldn’t help but think. Maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad if she lived with you for awhile. Until she got back on her feet, at least. Sliding the filled shot glass towards her, you shuffled on your feet. Leaning your forearms against the sticky edge of the wood, your eyes intently looked into hers. Violet didn’t pay much attention, too busy on downing her second shot.
“Why don’t you... Come and stay with me for awhile? Until you can get another job and get back on your feet.”
Again, the two of you haven’t hung out beside during your shift, and after hers. Her grey eyes bulged, instantly causing her to choke on the alcohol. She coughed roughly, struggling to take a breath. You immediately poured her some water, placing it in front of her. Reaching your hand across the bar top to rub and pat at her back. “Sorry...” You mumbled.
She took the glass, drinking the water like her life depended on it — which it nearly did. After gaining a higher oxygen percentage, she looked up at you. Her face flushed as red as a tomato — probably from the choking. “Like...” Violet cleared her throat. “Move in with you?”
Your lip fell between your teeth, shrugging. “Yeah. I mean you could save more money — find a job. I’m not gonna charge you for rent.” It was pretty generous to give her a free stay. But why would you have her live with you to save, but she’s giving you rent money every month. Sure, you work a lot, but it ensures that you can pay your bills. You really don’t need the extra help.
“I can’t do that... I don’t know... Are you sure?”
Despite her stunning good looks, muscular capacity, and way with her words — she was very doubtful in leaning on others for help. She almost refused to do so. But, if you had to knock her out and pack all of her stuff for her to move in with you... You would. However, that would be kidnapping, and that’s illegal. “Why wouldn’t I be sure? You’re my friend, Vi. I can’t have you sitting out in the streets jiggling a cup for spare change.”
Vi snorted, sipping the cool water some more. The only flushed parts of her face were her freckled cheeks. “Look, you don’t have to answer now. Just think about it, and let me know.” You walked over a few seats beside her, to grab two empty glasses at the edge of the counter. “This offer isn’t temporary.” You walked passed her, placing the dirty glasses into the rapid cleaner.
A wedge of silence was placed between the two of you. Elora had called you over to help with a drink she hasn’t learn to make yet. While you assisted her, you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder. Violet was in thought, playing with the rim of her glass. Once you were done, you approached the pinkette again. Her hand was digging into her pocket for her cash.
“Woah, woah — hey, don’t worry about it. Those were on the house.”
“I can pay for it.” She still dug into her pocket.
“Well, it’s on the house. Unless, you want to give me a generous tip — which I’m totally not asking for!”
Violet giggled, pulling out a twenty and slapping onto the bar top. “Thanks, y/n.” Delivering a tight lipped smile. You took the twenty, pocketing it into you shorts. The pinkette stood up, revealing the sports shorts she was in. “No problem, seriously. And, do me a favor... Really think about my offer, because I want you to take it.”
She only nodded, before placing a pair of headphones into her ears as she exited the bar.
“I’m speaking to you from my heart. Look, I don’t know if I’m going to have a career after this, but fuck that. Today is about innocent people who were halfway through their process, we don’t know what George Floyd could have achieved, we don’t know what Sandra Bland could have achieved, but today we’re going to make sure that won’t be an alien thought to our young ones. Every black person in here remembered when another person reminded you that you were black. So none of you out there, all those protesters on the other side, protesting against what we want to do, protesting against what we want to try and achieve, burn you, this is so vital. I need you to understand how painful this shit is. I need you to understand how painful it is to be reminded every day that your race means nothing and that isn’t the case anymore, that was never the case anymore.” John Boyega at The Black Lives Matter protest in Hyde Park June 3rd 2020
#17. “What if I kiss you right now?” - Min Yoongi x Reader
With a racing heart, a dry throat and shaking hands, you slowly peel the door back to meet Yoongi’s cold gaze. He observes you silently, watching as you step aside and all room for him to enter. He nods his head as he steps inside, quickly sheltering from the rain that had been falling for a majority of the night. He brushes against you as he passes, his eyes locking with yours for a moment before he continues through to the kitchen. You shake your head as you close the door, a sigh leaving your lips.
You had been anxious when the text had come, but that was nothing compared to the fear you were feeling now that he was here.
You had been dating Yoongi for almost five months now and it had been everything you had expected: passionate, private, considerate, honest and happy. However, it came with bouts of stress and minor disagreements that you never could have prepared yourself for, and you definitely could not have prepared yourself for the events that had taken place last night. Last night, he’d snapped. His patience finally wearing thin.
It had been the first major argument between you both, which had ended with him sleeping on the sofa and leaving this morning without saying a word. Twelve hours had passed, no conversation or contact, many tears had fallen on your part, and then a single text message had come.
You swallow hard and slowly bring yourself to traipse down the hallway. Sighing once again before entering the kitchen. You linger by the door, studying Yoongi as he clicks at his phone.
The silence between you thicker than one you had ever witnessed before, his presence slightly unnerving you.
‘Are you here for your things?’ you ask, your words catching in your throat as you speak.
‘What?’ he asks, glaring at you over his phone. You step back, suddenly intimidated by the harshness etched across his face.
You shrug your shoulder and quickly look away. In all the months you had known him, you had never imagined that he had the power to terrify. The more his eyes rested on you, the more you wanted him to leave.
It was petty, as well as unsettling. The whole situation was, in retrospect, pathetic. You could apologise over and over, but you knew that it wouldn’t change how nervous the relationship made you. Yoongi has always been understanding, always listening to your worries and helping you compromise whenever things got too much, and this was why you were failing to understand the situation.
Why had he snapped?
Why was it suddenly too much for him?
You slowly lift your gaze and blink at him, silently.
‘I’m sorry,’ he croaks, shuffling closer to where you stand.
You raise an eyebrow but remain quiet.
‘I shouldn’t have lashed out,’ he says softly, now standing directly in front of you.
You blink at him and swallow hard. ‘I shouldn’t have let myself get upset over a few comments,’
‘No,’ he shakes his head. ‘You have every right to be upset when something upsets you,’ Yoongi’s face softens and he pulls you into a hug. You let your body collapse against him, relieved to feel the warmth of his hold.
He holds you tightly, resting his chin on your head.
‘What if you never came back?’ you question, your voice muffled.
‘What if I kiss you right now?’ he quips, and quickly, you smile into his chest.
He releases his hold around you and you step back, blinking at him through bleary eyes before nodding your head.
His hands cup your face and slowly, he leans closer and presses a soft kiss to your lips.
‘(Y/N),’ he breathes. ‘I’d always come back to you,’ he whispers, before kissing your forehead.
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