Chapter Text
Jin and Namjoon
Jin, Namjoon, and Jimin wait in the waiting room. Like all hospital visits, they came at the appointment time and waited the mandatory 35 hours before the nurse called them in. Because it’s not an authentic visit unless you nearly become a skeleton in the process. Joon would have a beard, but apparently Koreans can’t grow proper beards.
Jimin has shrunk himself into a toddler, and mumbling in what seems like baby talk, but Jin tells him that it’s actually Mochi for curse words. Baby Jimin is apparently sleepy, and Namjoon feels a swell of love in his chest when Jin absently rocks Jimin in his arms.
Also, baby Jimin is adorable in his mochi onesie. Namjoon is dying. He lays his head on one of Jin's wide ass shoulders next to a small village which was populated by bananas. The village was rightly named Shoulderville.
Anyway, a busty nurse (or as busty as asians can get, anyhow) comes out and calls out, “Mr. Kim Namjoon and Mr. Kim Seokjin?”
Jin bundles Jimin in his arms and settles him in on his motherly hips as they follow the nurse into the Doctor’s office.Dr. Lee is a stern grey-haired man...who is currently spinning around his stool. Namjoon, Jin, Jimin, and the the nurse look at him in shock. He goes on til Trump is inaugurated, and notices them all staring in shock.
“Wheeeeeee…Oh. Ahem.” The good doctor clears his throat in embarrassment and motions for them to take a seat.
Namjoon sits in the poky, uncomfortable plastic chair that is being held up by sheer willpower and pixie dust while Jin and Jimin settle in the comfy mint-green armchair.
Dr.Lee motions for the nurse to bring him the recent DNA test file, and the Nurse
Gyeong hands over the pink manila file. The doctor opens it and skims through it, and freezes, blinking purposefully and reads it again. This cycle goes on repeatedly for a good ten minutes before the doctor rubs his eyes wearily, before silently handing Jin the file. “I can't read,” the doctor admits.
Jin takes it and opens it, Jimin leaning over to read it as well.
“Hmm...yeah...that seems about normal...really? I didn’t know about that....I’m part Chinese?...That’s cool.” He scans the document. He comes to Chim’s paternity check and reads it.
“Jiminie, you were so cute when you were so small! Ahh…A positive blood type like Namjoonie…” Jin takes a moment to give a soft™ look at Joon, and Jimin silently pukes into a turtle shell at all the blatant eye-fucking. Jin turns back to the paper and freezes.
“What the actual hell? Jin looks shell shocked as he stares at the paper, slapping himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.
Jimin gurgles loudly in mochi, venting his obvious disbelief at the written words.
Namjoon leans over and takes a glance. The file has the usual info, like his and Jin’s birth dates, and some cursory bloodwork info. He skips down to Jimin’s paternity check. They’d done it as mostly a joke, but…what he saw could not possibly be…it wasn’t a prank…was it a joke?
Because according to the paper, the biological fathers of one Park Jimin were Kim Seokjin…and Yoshi- uh I mean Kim Namjoon...um yeah.
Screams were heard all the way in Africa. Locals looked up and shivered in fear.
Yoongi and Hoseok
Yoongi is swegging out as he swegs into a sweg-tattoo parlour. He’s a man on a mission.(Swiggity swaggity comin for that booty.) He will not be stopped-nothing short of lizard people from Arizona will prevent him from accomplishing his mission today.
He walks into the disgustingly pink salon as a Hyosang walks in with his disturbingly Jin-like face and smiles. Instantly, unicorns and flamingos prance around the parlour. Yoongi tries to pet one flamingo but it crumples into a pile of brown ash. Yoongi must have too much sweg for it. Weaklings.
Hyosang pulls out a silver box and Yoongi begins taking off his 465 $ necklaces. The silver box negates all the cheap plastic’s sweg.
“So bitch...What tattoo do you want?” Hyosang sucks on a blue raspberry lollipop, his lips and tongue all blue. He’s going for the light emo look.
“I want this.” Yoongi rummages through his bottomless pockets and throws out a kid’s crayola crayon set, a rabbit paw, a dictionary before finally pulling out a crumpled pink paper. He hands it to Hyosang.
Hyosang stares at it and shrugs. “Okay. Where do you want it?’ He readies the needle and makes sure the ink is in the right tubes.
‘On my face of course!” Hyosang stares before waving the shock away.
“Where exactly? Like...forehead, cheekbones, nose…?”
“Forehead, but make sure it’s coverable by my hair. I can’t be too identifiable...since everyone wants to kill me these days.”
Hyosang nods somberly, like he’s a prisoner being escorted off the plank by French speaking pirates.
He readies the ink, and Yoongi begins to sob as the needles puncture his epidermis. 20 minutes later, Hyosang pulls back to admire his work, his face the perfect reflection of calm. Calm like a snicksnacksnoop. Calm like Philosophy majors before graduation into the real world. Calm like poptarts being fed to a basilisk.
He rolls his spinny chair over to the mini fridge and pulls out a box of mint-chocolate chip ice and shoves it toward the sobbing Suga.
‘It hurts so much! Why do people do this?Wahhhhh!” Hyosang gingerly patted his back. Why did he always befriend the weird ones? Did he have some sort of aura?
Miles away in New Zealand, Hoseok looks up. His Yoongi sense is tingling. He sets a forest on fire and lassoes a helicopter.
“I’m on my way, baby!” Hobi hollers, imagining of the day when he could cradle his husband in his arms. In three seconds, they rapidly approached South Korea, and Hobi jumped off the helicopter. Don’t ask me how they travelled that fast. All I can say is that Hobi’s father was Darth Vader.
Hobi parachuted to the top of Hyosang's tattoo parlour and shimmies down the pipes like a lizard gorging on rainbow sherbet ice cream.
He bursts into the parlour. “Yoongi-babe, where are you?”
Yoongi turns and his face brightens like a LED light bulb.
“Honey!” Yoongi jumps into his beloved hubby’s arms and snuggles. Hyosang gags in the corner as he witnesses enthusiastic PDA. He mutters something about not wanting big dick energy.
Hobi looks around. Why was Yoongi at Hyosung's tattoo parlour? He asks him this.
Yoongi pushes his licorice stick like hair up, revealing his new tattoo. “How is it, babe?”
Hobi looks at it and smiles serenely. He was this close to bursting out in laughter, but he managed to hold it in. Because if he started laughing, he would laugh and laugh til he had a heart attack and laugh some more in hell and then he’d tell Satan why he was laughing and Satan would laugh too and that would be-
“Hobi? How is it?” Yoongi looks so soft and earnest and Hobi wants to kiss him til he purrs like the Persian cat he is.
“Absolutely gorgeous, love. I’m going to pay Hyosang, okay? Go wait outside.” Yoongi exits the parlour and stares at the sky. He couldn’t be happier (except if he maybe had nose ring).
Hoseok, on the other hand, looks at Hyosang in exasperation.
“Never let him get another tattoo, okay? I don’t care if he holds a knife to your temple, just don’t let him get another. He already has one that says ‘Fuck me hard, Daddy’ on his back, I don’t need to see him with more ink.”
Hyosang nods.”Who do you think was forced to tattoo that one on him? I don’t ever want to see Yoongi without pants, man. Now, pay up and give me the recipe for the wedding cake. That shit was great.” Hobi pays the man and they exchange raspberry-creme cake recipes.
“See you next Monday for book club,” Hyosang calls out as Hoseok closes the door.
“You guys have bookclub?” Yoongi asks, amused.
“Of course we do. We read a new book each month. This month’s is Moby Dick. I predict a whole lot of dick jokes, ‘cause there’s not a whole lot else going on in that book.” Yoongi smiles softly. His life was so much more...full since Hobi came into it.
“I love you,” Suga whispers. “I love you so much I can’t believe how empty my life was before you dropped into it. Hoseok glances at him “Ew you're such a sap" he mutters but he was smiling.
Hobi looks at him, love shining in his crinkly brown eyes. “I love you, I love you Min Yoongi father suga Agust dick Williams Adams jjang jjang man bong bong min suga genius lil meow meow.”
Hobi kisses his forehead, one kiss for each letter of the tattoo. “H-O-E-S-U-C-C,” Hoseok reads out loud. “You still can’t spell for shit.”
Taehyung looked up from his chai-latte and smiled. He spotted a dusty grey pebble on the nearby road. He whipped out his phone and clicked the messaging app.
To Hot Furry
This reminded me of you.
rock.img
Jeongguk’s phone buzzed, and he scowled at the message.
To Thicc af Whore
Stfu
To Hot furry
U stfu!
Jeongguk knew where this was going and sighed. He was in the middle of a lecture, dammit.
To thicc af whore
If you shut up right now, I’ll let you fuck me against the wall.
To Hot furry
No hablo ingles. I look forward to it, chico. ;)
Jeongguk sighed. Miles away, Taehyung smirked. An alpaca hmmm-screeches in the background. He adjusts his sombrero and fake mustache and walks away into the sunset.
Crab-oppa smiled in a crabby way as he made it down to the rival gang’s hideout. This is his first solo mission, and he will prove himself.
His mission is fairly simple.
Stake out the area, survey the perimeter, and take out everyone in sight.
And do it...silently.
His loud pinchers clacked together as he silently walked into the building.( I mean...if crabs walk. Do crabs walks? Alexa, do crabs walk? Alexa? Alexa?
Oh god I’ve killed Alexa. Alexa come back to meeeeeee!!!!)
Anyway, Crabbyoppa walks into the joint and slips past everything, but suddenly, two meaty fists pluck him from the ground as he struggles to be free. The two meatbodies carry him to their boss, tossing Crab-oppa into a Chinatown crab tank with the other crowded, barely living crabs. Craboppa shivered in fear as he saw one crab eat another, and flinched as the crab immediately died. A soft ahem sound made him look to the outside of the tank.
It was a dark, typical bossman lair with the typical evil villain 60’s swivel chair. Craboppa froze as the person in the chair turned around.
It was...it was…
Pegamoose!
The Pegamoose made some moose sounds as the interpreter began to interpret.
“Craboppa. The legendary crab who saved a human and then was on the verge of marrying him. Don’t you feel betrayed that your beloved human betrayed you like an eggo waffle that doesn’t taste good?” The interpreter shrugs at Craboppa’s questionable look. “He actually said that man. Don’t shoot the messenger, man.”
Craboppa shook his head. The pegamoose made surprised noises.
“Yeah I thought he’d be betrayed too so he’d join the organisation, man.”
“Yeah, it’s so weird, like we even kidnapped the guy he was supposed to marry, man.”
“Yeah, secret agents these days so unpredictable man.”
Craboppa claws out of the tank and jumps onto the pegamoose’s face, pinching his nose as he wails in pain. He knocks him out and fights his way to the secret panelling where they kept Namjoon. Or so he thought. Because the rope and gags that Namjoon was in were laying on the floor with no turtle in sight.
Fuck. We’ve lost a joon.
FIN