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sungbeam · 6 days

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𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬

nonidol!kang yeosang x f!reader

yeosang doesn't remember your name, but he remembers what kissing you tastes like and how you like your eggs in the morning. just your regular prince charming trying to find his cinderella, or in this case, his passenger princess..?

9.5k (lord.....), nc-17, s2l, frateez au, college au, mentions of alcohol, swearing, kissing, humor, fluff, minimal angst, another cinderella story au/trope(?), drama (i bring i bring all the drama-ma-ma-ma), a girl who is not a girl's girl :l, the barest of proofreading

a/n: this is for the @atzhouse you can't outrage us event! guys if the flirting is lackluster, it's cuz im running out of rizz

“I don't believe you.”—

The last place you expected to end up was in the front seat of some guy's white Lexus while the party raged on inside the ATZ fraternity house just down the street. According to him, he had to run out just before the crowd rolled in, and when he got back, somebody had snatched his parking spot.

—“Okay, but why don't you believe me?”—

The car smelled not like fresh leather, but an enchanting mixture of something like pine and smoked wood. Bitter, yet somehow, refreshing. You bet, even as the alcohol was hitting you, that it was what he smelled like.

His name was Yeosang—the guy sitting next to you in the driver's seat, the owner of this car, and the ATZ fraternity brother you bumped into at his house's own party. That had been just about twenty minutes ago when you'd ended up isolated from your pack of friends, and Yeosang had needed a desperate breather. It seemed he'd been running from someone (question mark), so you asked if he knew where the kitchen was. Eager to get away from whoever it was, he guided you straight to the kitchen and where the secret stash of flavored sojus were.

An offhand comment about wishing you didn't have to miss this one drama episode dropping tonight led to a longer conversation about the dramas you both enjoyed, which somehow landed you in his passenger seat.

The rest was history. Or—you supposed the rest was now.

“Because,” Yeosang said in a tone that sounded a lot like he was saying 'duh’, “you don't look like a biology major.”

He was gorgeous, even if the lighting in the party and out here was jack shit. The way the shadows cut across his face made him look like a faerie torn straight out of one of your old sketchbooks. You were half certain he had pointed ears beneath the cat-eared beanie he wore, but maybe that was just the alcohol doing its thing.

You sputtered out a laugh as he knocked back another gulp of his melon soju. He was more drunk than you were, maybe not by too much because that wouldn't have been fair, but it did take him seven tries to unlock his car seven minutes ago. “What's a bio major s'posed to look like?”

“Mmm…” he hummed, lips pressed together in a line that dug into his cheeks. “Not you.”

It only made you laugh harder. It wasn't even that funny. “That doesn't even make sense!”

“Does it have to make sense?” He squawked. His face shuddered for a moment as if he just experienced a glitch. “I forgot what I was gonna say, but it's the vibe.”

“The vibe,” you parroted in mild amusement. After you swallowed down your next gulp of soju, you gestured to him with the bottle, “Okay, now what about you? Your major, go.”

“I read shit.”

“Who doesn't?”

“Jared, 19,” he replied, dead serious.

Equally serious, you asked with wide eyes, “Really?”

He gave you an emphatic nod back. Really. Now, if you were a little less tipsy, you wouldn't have taken what he said at face value, but tonight was already miles away from your regularly scheduled program.

You pondered on that—the “I read shit,” not the misfortunes of one nineteen year old named Jared. “So if you read a lot of shit, does that make you a literature major? No, wait! I got it; you look like Comparative Lit.”

“Bingo,” he cheered, raising his bottle up into the air. “Wait. What do you mean I look like a comparative lit major? What does a comp lit major even look like?”

“I dunno, but it’s you.”

He pursed his lips into a deadpan at your callback to what he'd said before, and you merely stuck your tongue out at him like the mature adult you were. “Touché, my friend. Touché…”

Silence passed between you two for the first time since you met each other. In the distance, you could hear the muffled sounds of the party raging on. It wasn't that you didn't go to parties often; it was more so that you usually went to house parties hosted by friends or friends-of-a-friend. Making it all the way to Greek Row was not something you did every weekend, but a mutual friend—Chungha—knew the ATZ president and got you and your friends in.

Nearly finished with his third bottle (or was it his fourth?...), Yeosang knocked the remainder down his throat with a grimace. With the empty bottle, he set it at his feet on the car floor to join another—the cup holders were already occupied with yours and his second rounds. The first was abandoned on the frat house lawn somewhere.

“I think—” he slurred, blinking slowly at you like a cat, “—that you look like an artist.”

“An artist?” You parroted dumbly and felt warmth rise to your cheeks. “And why would you say that? Vibes?”

“Well, yes!”

You sputtered out a laugh at the way he said that. “Then yes, I am an artist,” you said, emphasizing the latter half of the word so it sounded like “teest” and not “tist.”

Yeosang gave a hoot. “I'm so good at this. Does that—does that mean you can paint me like one of your French girls?” He pulled his lips into an adorable, little smile, the back of his hand poised beneath his chin as he fluttered his lashes.

“I don't think I could do you justice,” you admitted. There was a rather annoying buzz at the back of your brain that was distracting you. With a shake of your head, you refocused your gaze on him. “You're too pretty.”

He preened at the compliment, unconsciously reaching up to adjust his beanie. “Like calls to like then.”

“What does that mean?” Your buzzed-out brain couldn't compute—

“It means that prettiness is attracted to prettiness, and I'm attracted to you.”

You whined, burying your face in your hands. Yeosang giggled to himself, incredibly proud at making you flustered, his knees curling upward to kick his feet in the cramped space. “I don't like you.”

“You don't?”

“No,” you raised your head up with a displeased frown, only to see that his eyes seemed to be twinkling with unrestrained happiness and something else. You weren't in the right state to hyper-analyze the way he looked at you, but it made your heart skip more than just a beat. “It's not fair that you're a literature major.”

“But I'm drunk,” he said innocently.

“That's even worse!”

He grinned boyishly at you, bashfully stretching his limbs and then cupping the back of his neck with a hand. “What if I told you I'm minoring in math?”

You deadpanned. “I don't think that makes me feel any better. You rule both the realms of words and numbers.”

“It doesn't mean I'm good at math,” he guffawed, leaning back in his seat. “It's only there 'cause my mom's a math teacher, and having a math minor makes my parents feel better.”

That sounded familiar… awfully familiar. The thought made you sober a bit, and it seemed your counterpart wasn't so wasted that he didn't notice the shift either.

“Uh oh,” he chuckled nervously, “what'd I say?”

You waved your hand around dismissively. “Oh, it's nothing. I'm kind of the opposite—my bio major is sort of to appease my parents and the fine art minor is for my sanity.”

He pressed his lips into a line, nodding in understanding. “Ah, I see,” he drawled. “So you don't… you're not happy? With what you're doing, I mean.”

Maybe it was the way he asked it, but it made the cogs in your head turn. You bit your lip. “I'm happy-ish. It's kind of a lot, but I'll survive.”

“'m sorry I upset you,” he pouted. “But,” he stammered, swallowing, “but I get it. My parents never wanna talk about my major anymore. Pretty sure they're just bitter and disappointed. I always feel like I’m walking on eggshells around them.”

You could tell that it affected him more than he wanted to admit. You wordlessly passed him your half-drunk bottle, and he gladly took a generous sip. When it was back in your hands, you guzzled down the remainder.

The buzz was getting better.

“Well, if they're not proud of you, I am,” you declared, setting the empty bottle at your feet. Your eyes blinked slowly for a moment as you got your bearings again. Maybe… maybe you should stop drinking! Yes, that would be the smart thing to do.

Yeosang hummed. “Thanks,” he said with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He gazed over at you from his side of the car. “I'm proud of you, too. You'll be happy one day; it'll always turn out okay, Yn-ie.”

Something warm and fuzzy settled in your chest, like a cat had just curled up there, purring and content.

A thought suddenly popped into your head. “Yeosang, how do you like your eggs?”

He snorted and burst into laughter, coaxing a similar expression out of you. A moment later, you were trying your best to pout at him, “Hey! Don't laugh! I hear it's all the rage on the pick-up line scene.”

“You're trying to pick me up?” He giggled. All memories of the previous topic flew out the car window.

“Well, is it working?”

He licked his lips around a smile, leaning over the center console to rest his cheek against his fist. “Ask me again.”

You took another sip of your soju before returning it to its cupholder. “Okay. Yeosang, how do you like your eggs in the morning?”

“However you'd like them.”

You deadpanned, and that only made him laugh louder. His head tilted back so you caught a glimpse of his canines, before he brought himself back down to Earth. His cheeks looked as flushed as you felt—even in the dim streetlight you could make out the blooms of peony pink across his cheekbones. “Yeo.”

He reached over to pat your head a couple times, though the sloppiness of his movements made it feel closer to two affectionate smacks. “Okay okay. Sorry. How about we say it at the same time?”

“Okay.” That wasn't a bad compromise.

“Okay, one, two, three—”

“Sunny-side up,” you both said at once.

Your eyes and his eyes widened at once, gasps of delight sounding into the quiet car. Could this guy be any more perfect?

“You're not bluffing?” You asked with narrowed eyes.

Yeosang shook his head vigorously. “Mm-mm. I wouldn't lie to you, Yn-ie. Scout's honor,” he slurred, holding his hand up as if he was a boy scout.

You giggled at the gesture, and he broke form to melt into an ooey gooey puddle of liquefied butterflies. For a moment, he just stared at you with a strange look on his face, one that you couldn't quite place when you were in this inebriated state.

You chuckled, shifting your position when one leg started falling asleep. “What’s wr—?”

He leaned forward and—oh. Oh. Those were—his lips were on yours. He had leaned over the console and kissed you. He was kissing you.

And when you didn't kiss him back, he drew backwards, an embarrassed expression painted over the adorable flush on his cheeks. “That—I shouldn't have done that, should I? I'm sorry; I dunno what I was—”

You crushed your mouth against his this time, effectively stealing the apology right off his tongue. He tasted like melon soju, and his touch was gentle as he brought his hand up to cup the side of your face, cradle your jaw. He was tracing the outline of your features in the dark like he could sketch them in the lines in his mind.

He tasted like the color of amber, warm and bright, but not blindingly so. He was mellow and sweet, with the undertones of the burnt wood in his cologne.

You melded your lips against his mouth like you could engrave him into you, and you were practically half over the middle console already. Yeosang's free hand fumbled backward to find the button on the side of his chair—there. The chair began moving backward with a monotonous brrr sound, and as it moved you couldn't quite keep your lips physically attached to his.

You disconnected from him for what felt like an eternity in order to climb over—shoes knocking against empty soju bottles, ass nearly bumping the horn—and with some clumsy, awkward maneuvering, you were on him again, this time quite literally. You tumbled into his lap, his hands landing on either side of your waist and your hands bracing against the back of his chair.

He loosened a soft groan with the return of your lips to his, and he hauled you down closer to him, until your chests were pressed flush against one another and you couldn't tell which heartbeat was who's. His beanie fell off at some point, but your fingers buried themselves within the dark, silken mass of his hair, a hat in their own right.

When you both pulled away for breath, your chests heaved in tandem to catch it. You settled your cheek against his shoulder while you inhaled the smell of his cologne, much stronger now that you sat against his chest with your nose by his throat. His hand warmed the small of your back with the other cupping the back of your head in an affectionate cradle.

“I don't think I've ever kissed someone like that,” you admitted into the quiet. You suddenly couldn't hear the muffled music blasting from the party in the background anymore.

“Me neither,” he replied, voice hoarse from the kiss. “I've never met someone like you before.”

“Never in your life?”

“Never in my life.”

“So let me get this straight,” drawled Wooyoung with both hands poised at his temples, eyes screwed shut against the bright morning light coming in through the window. There were currently eight people crowded onto President Hongjoong's bed at a time that was far too early to be alive for a group of people who partied until four in the morning. “You're saying that you know this girl's family life, how she likes her eggs in the morning, and how she kisses—but you don't even know her name?”

Yeosang was propped up against the headboard, squeezed between a very unfairly serene-looking Seonghwa and a mildly hungover Hongjoong. Yeosang's bangs were flat against his forehead and he squinted his tired eyes through the strands. “No, that's not what I said. I said that I know her name… it's just not coming to me right now.”

He knew your name. Right? You told him your name, right? He addressed you by your name at least once last night, right?

(If he was being honest, as soon as Yeosang woke up this morning, he started whimsically recalling the events of last night in his head. But once he realized he neither had your number nor remembered your name, he jostled his friends up to invade the president's room for an emergency round table discussion. Who would have guessed their alarm clock would be a very panicked Maltese screaming, “I DON'T REMEMBER HER NAME!”)

“Which pretty much means you don't know her name,” Jongho piped up where he was laying against Yunho's back on the corner of the bed, his eyes closed while he attempted to squeeze in five more milliseconds of sleep.

“Well, do you know who she came with?” San asked. “She probably has at least one mutual friend or else she wouldn't have gotten in.”

Mingi furrowed his brows together. “Not necessarily. The pledges might not have been thorough when checking.”

Hongjoong's eyes narrowed. “You were supposed to be there with them at the door, Mingi.”

“Oh, was I?”

Yunho cut in before Hongjoong could tackle Mingi off the bed. He grinned to himself, “Okay, but San has a point. Usually people are only able to sneak in if they're with a group.”

“Awh,” Wooyoung cooed, reaching over to pinch at Yeosang's cheek, “Yeosangie fell in love with a stowaway—ow! Hey! He just bit me!”

“Deserved,” Seonghwa said plainly. He turned his head so as to not have to face Wooyoung's wounded puppy eyes. It was too early for this. “Do you know if she came with anyone, Yeosang-ah?”

Yeosang scrunched his nose up, disgruntled. “No. I'm pretty sure she was looking for her friends when we met… something like that. I remember some things, but not everything.” He pinched the place between his brows in an attempt to piece together his memory of last night. He could remember the way you made him feel—it was the jittery warmth that came with falling, and his heart had never grown wings before like it had around you.

After the kiss, the two of you had sunk into a comfortable, quiet conversation about anything and everything beneath the sun. For the first time in a long time, he felt comfortable and heard by someone other than his fraternity brothers. You were perfect, for lack of a better word. And he knew a lot of words.

But how could he fucking forget your name?

He was never drinking that much melon soju ever again.

“She's a biology major,” he offered with a defeated sigh, letting his hand fall into his lap.

“What does she look like?” Hongjoong asked.

Yeosang's gaze went up to the ceiling as he recalled what you looked like to his friends. It was pretty dark the entire time he was with you, but there were a few moments when the streetlights hit your face and his conscience was constantly trying to keep his drunk ass from kissing you within the first ten minutes of meeting you. He'd managed to hold it together for a little bit longer before throwing all caution to the wind.

When he was done, San said in light amusement, “I'm just surprised you kissed her first. She must be something then, huh?”

Yeosang couldn't conceal the smile that slowly crept onto his face. “Yeah, she's…” He cleared his throat. “I just don't want last night to be the first and last time I see her.” It couldn't be—just when he thought he clicked with someone, the universe couldn't possibly be so cruel as to rip you away from him, could it?

“Don't you worry!” Mingi chirped, “We'll help you find your passenger princess.”

Seonghwa snorted. “Passenger princess? What is this, Cinderella?”

“It might as well be,” San chuckled, lifting his shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “Operation: Passenger Princess is a go!”

Yeosang wasn't sure if recruiting his friends’ help was a good or awful decision. But because his past, drunk self hadn't done many favors for his future, sober self, he would take all the help he could get.

You knew the moment you stumbled out of your bedroom and saw your roommate that you were in trouble. It wasn't trouble in the conventional sense; considering her eyes were laughing as she watched your pitiful walk of shame from your room to the shared bathroom, you knew you were not going to hear the end of everything that happened last night ever.

“Not a word,” you said to her as you winced at the blinding bathroom lights.

Her toothbrush hung out of her mouth as she slipped in behind you to spit her toothpaste into the sink. When her mouth was rinsed and clear, she made eye contact with you in the mirror, eyebrows wagging up and down. “So you and Yeosang, huh?”

You glared at her from around your own toothbrush. You would have taken the damn thing out to defend yourself, but you were already late.

Reina took full advantage of your occupied vocal chords. “I never knew pretty frat boys were your type, Yn,” she teased, practically floating out of the bathroom to go check on the state of her espresso in the kitchen.

“Aye hae yuu,” you grumbled around your toothbrush.

“What's that?” She cackled, bringing a hand up to the shell of her ear. “I love you? I love you, too, Yn. But you know who else loves you?—”

“Dompt shae it.”

“Yeosaaaang!”

You loathed the fact that her saying such things made butterflies flap their wings and dance around in your belly. It was simply delusional to think of love when all you and Yeosang did last night was make out in his car and accompany each other in deep, provoking conversation… conversation that definitely didn't make you feel incredibly seen or anything… definitely not.

Finally, you were able to spit your toothpaste out to make your argument. “Okay, first of all, I don't even have his number. And—how could he love me?” As if possession of a phone number could even correlate to love either.

Reina paused, her expression arranging into loud incredulity. “You what? After all I went through to separate the two of you to go home, you didn't exchange numbers?”

Okay, so maybe you shouldn't have disclosed that information—now you just looked stupid.

You lathered up facial cleanser in your hands and on your face. “Look. Exchanging numbers was just the last thing on our minds—” Oh, Yn. Have you ever said something smart?

Reina snorted. “Oh, I know.”

“We didn't just make out,” you grumbled, your cheeks warming beneath your hands. You furiously splashed cool water over your skin before patting your face dry. There likely wasn't much time left before you and Reina had to run to meet your other friends at your weekly volunteering session. “We talked.”

“Uh-huh, and you know that denial is a river in Egypt, right?”

Suffice to say that Reina most definitely did not let your shenanigans from last night go. The two of you managed to reach the food bank sometime before fifteen minutes past your original start time. Everyone else was already stationed and on time, and because you and Reina were the last to arrive, you were sent straight to dishwashing.

As you and Reina pulled on your twin pairs of pink rubber gloves, your friend Mark Lee (and brother with the NCT fraternity) barrelled into the backroom with a dirty ladle in his hands. His head perked up at the sight of you both, a smile blooming on his face. “Well, good morning, Party Animals. How was the ATZ party last night?”

He deposited the ladle into the sink for you to wash while he went to go find a clean one.

“It was cool, but I think Yn would love to tell you all about her experience,” Reina teased, bumping her elbow against your side.

Mark sidled up beside the two of you and leaned in close in proper tea-spilling fashion. “Oh my gosh, did something happen?”

You scowled at Reina, then said to Mark, “Nothing catastrophic—”

“She hooked up with Yeosang!”

You cut her a hard glance. “Reina, I don't think Neptune heard you.”

Mark's eyes went comically wide, jaw slackening. “Yn and Yeosang? That's so wild. Like—like Kang Yeosang?”

“I think? We didn't exactly exchange last names, but why would it be wild? We just kissed and talked.”

“Who kissed who now?” The new voice had you all glancing back over to the kitchen door where another member of the group, Yura, walked in. Yura was Reina's cousin, and the two grew up quite close, so it was natural that they ended up in similar social circles. You and all your other friends got along pleasantly with her. She flashed you all a small smile. “From the sounds of it, I'm guessing you guys had a fun time at the party last night?”

“We did!” Reina chirped.

“Shame you couldn't come with us this time,” you said offhandedly. It wasn't like Yura to miss a party.

Reina cocked her head to the side. “I could've sworn I saw you there though—”

“Ah,” Yura waved her hand to dismiss her cousin's thought. She chuckled, “You're probably mistaking someone else as me; I had that paper I needed to work on last night, remember? But Yn, you and Yeosang?”

You groaned. “I thought we were over this.”

“Dude, we can't not get over this,” Mark quipped back. “Yeosang just doesn't do stuff like that—hook up with people, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Yura chimed in, “I've seen him at a couple other Greek parties with some of my sorority friends and he looks pretty standoffish most of the time. He's usually always with one of his brothers. He's kind of cold, really.”

Mark furrowed his brows. “I wouldn't call him cold; he's just a little shy, is all.”

“My friends told me that a lot of sorority girls chase after him,” Yura said with wide eyes. “They get, like, aggressive about him or something.”

You and Reina exchanged a look. Was that who he was running from last night? “That must be kinda stressful,” you said softly with a small frown.

“Apparently, that's why his social medias don't take DMs unless approved,” she shrugged.

Well, there went your backup plan of finding him on social media. Then again, if he recognized you or your name, would that help if you requested him? That was if you deigned to change your profile picture to yourself and not one of your silly doodles.

You couldn't help the weight that your heart seemed to gain as it sank to the pit of your stomach.

“Well, that's mildly disappointing,” Reina muttered, turning to quickly wash the ladle Mark had just dropped off.

“I just wouldn't want you to get targeted by any of those crazy sorority girls, y'know?” Yura gave a laugh that sounded almost nervous. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before snapping on a fresh pair of gloves.

You nodded, gnawing on your bottom lip. “Yeah, no, I—I get it. Thanks, Yura.”

She gave you a sympathetic look. “Of course,” she said. With a wave, she made her way back toward the kitchen door. “Mark, we better get back to work. See you guys at lunch break!”

When she was gone, Mark clapped a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Hey, listen. I don't really know the guy personally, but me and Wooyoung are pretty tight. I can get in touch with them if you want—”

Baekhyun, the section leader for your session, charged into the kitchen with his arm piled high with dirty dishes. If you didn’t fear for the safety of the porcelain bowl at the top of the stack, you might have chuckled at the scene before you. “Mark! We don't pay you to stand around.”

“Hyung,” Mark huffed exasperatedly as he rushed over to help Baekhyun before the section leader could get knocked over the head by a rogue dish assisted by gravity. “You don't pay us. We're here out of the goodness of our hearts.”

“Well, I don't get paid enough for this,” Baekhyun said once all the dishes were transferred to the sink, and you and Reina were put to work. “Now come on; lots to do!”

Just as Mark was about to follow after Baekhyun, he caught your eyes. “I'm serious about the offer, Yn.”

You smiled. “Thanks, man, but let me think about it and I'll get back to you.”

“Yeah, just lemme know!” And he was gone.

Word broke out that someone in the ATZ household was searching for a girl. Word of mouth was a method of dissemination that could spread like wildfire, leaping from one tongue to one ear to another, leaving only ash and debris behind. And around Greek Row, it became a massive game of Telephone.

But while nearly everyone in the university's fraternities and sororities knew about his strife, Yeosang’s efforts seemed to be for naught. The only thing that emerged from this were more people harping after him, claiming to be 'the one he was looking for.’ None of them were you.

Your name had manifested itself in his head about halfway into the week. He'd been toiling over the theory readings his professor assigned for Thursday's lecture when he'd underlined a word, and it came crashing down upon him with ice cold clarity.

His eyes went wide as he shot up out of his chair, nearly sending Jongho careening off his bed on the other side of the room. “What the—”

“Yn,” Yeosang said. Then he declared a little louder, a giddy smile on his face, triumphant and bright, “Her name is Yn.”

Jongho resettled himself on top of his bed. “Well that narrows things down for us,” he drawled, taking his phone out and typing something out. “I don't suppose you have her last name.”

Yeosang fwumped onto the edge of his bed with his lips pressed into a line. “Dude. I literally just thought of her first name. Do you really think I can come up with—”

“Okay, okay,” Jongho laughed, flicking his wrist at him for a moment before resuming his typing.

“Who're you texting?” Yeosang asked as curiosity drew him across the room to Jongho's side.

His friend sat up so he could peer over his shoulder at the phone screen. “I'm doing the heavy lifting,” he teased. Based on the social media handle at the top of the direct messages channel, Jongho was texting Chungha, a friend of the frat's but a closer friend of President Hongjoong's, and the recently graduated head of the Phi Omega Phi sorority. “Hongjoong hyung mentioned offhandedly that Chungha wanted to get some friends into the party on Friday, so I'm seeing if she recognizes this Yn person you're looking for.”

Yeosang’s eyebrows flicked upward as he settled into a more comfortable position on Jongho’s bed while they awaited Chungha’s response. In the meantime, he pulled out his own phone in an attempt to search for your name amongst his mutuals. He frowned at the lack of a successful search—did you use a different name or did you not have a social media account? Was that why you hadn’t attempted to contact him in the past few days?

For a moment, a shard of self-consciousness pierced through his chest at the prospect that you didn’t want to contact him. Did sobriety make you embarrassed at what happened that night? Had he made you uncomfortable with the amount of vulnerability that was in the car—no, the vulnerability was mutual… but maybe—

“Gotcha.”

Yeosang’s head whipped back over to Jongho’s screen. Having your name and major seemed to ring a bell for Chungha, and she forwarded a social media handle, along with a “tell Yeosang good luck ;)”.

“Thank you, Jongho. And bless up, Chungha,” Yeosang muttered as he swiftly input the social media handle into his search bar. There it was—a private art account with your first name in the biography line. There were only one or two people who you both shared mutuals with, which made sense.

His thumb hovered over the request button, and he bit his lip. With little else left to do and his heart banging around in his ribs from the anticipation alone, he clicked the button.

It didn’t take you incredibly long to accept his follow request and to follow him back. (Though, half an hour felt like an eternity when he was so anxious.) He made it painfully obvious that you acted in response, because Yeosang fumbled his phone between his palms like it was a hot potato, before he dropped it and stubbed his toe with it.

Jongho sent him a strange look as he handed the device back to a red-faced Yeosang, who furrowed his brows together to think of an opening direct message to you.

“It doesn't have to be perfect,” Jongho said as he peered over Yeosang's shoulder this time. He had even paused the game he was playing on his phone to stay tuned into the live entertainment.

Yeosang made a face. “Yes, it does.” It had to be the perfect mix of witty and funny and subtle and—

He figured it out.

@/yskang99: how do u like ur eggs?

Jongho released a sound of utter flabbergast, and Yeosang shushed him, both pairs of eyes pinned to the three dots that appeared on the bottom left-hand side of the screen.

@/studioyn: sunny side up

Yeosang broke into a smile, and Jongho's face contorted into pure incredulity. “What kind of security question is that?”

“Inside joke,” Yeosang replied giddily, rising from Jongho's bed to cross over to his side of the room. He collapsed into his desk chair and propped his feet up along the end of his bed.

Jongho scoffed, shifting his lounging position. He threw his friend another incredulous glance before giving up and returning to his game. He'd done his job.

@/yskang99: congrats u passed the test!

@/studioyn: ahh so that was a test? i imagined us doing a virtual handshake tbh

@/yskang99: i like that better actually

@/studioyn: also how did u find me lmao

Yeosang bit his lip through a grin. I have my ways, he typed out cryptically, cheekily.

@/studioyn: wtvr u say ig… 🤨🤨🤨

For a brief moment, Yeosang wondered if he should bring up the concern lingering in his mind—why you hadn't reached out to him. He didn't want to simply assume that he was “popular” enough that just anybody knew who he was, but he was also aware that most people were able to track him down on social media. But would that kill the vibe? He liked the energy.

@/studioyn: i can't get a read on whether or not ur any different than how u were drunk

@/yskang99: would that matter?

@/studioyn: not particularly, no, but i've met people who r

@/yskang99: no i get that, i've met my fair share too :/

He began typing out slowly: I missed you… Then he swiftly amended it to: I missed talking to you.

@/studioyn: awhh wait ik we've only technically spoken the one time, but i missed talking to u too yeo :’)

A smile split his face from ear to ear. Would you wanna hang out again? Only if you're comfortable, of course.

He watched the three dots appear, then disappear. You were thinking and his heart was sinking.

Finally, your response came in. I'd love to, but I don't wanna disappoint you with my god awful schedule this next week.

@/yskang99: what abt the weekend? something low stakes maybe?

@/yskang99: my brothers and i r going to the nct house on sat

@/studioyn: oh!! im actually close friends w mark lee :] i'll see if i can drag my friends along, and we can link up there?

The thought of seeing you again, even if it was at another dumb Greek party, made electricity zip through his veins. His stomach filled to the brim with butterflies, and he had to shift his position because of how much it tickled.

@/yskang99: yeah sounds great :D i'll look forward to seeing u

@/studioyn: same here yeo :’))

@/studioyn: how's ur week been so far?

Yeosang leaned back in his chair again, propping his elbows on the armrests to sink into a comfortable position. He had a feeling he might be here awhile, but he would sit here all night if it meant talking to you.

“Yn! We're gonna be late!”

You nearly jolted at the sound of Reina's voice carrying through the other side of your bedroom door. You dropped your phone onto your bed, racing to finish up the rest of your makeup. “You can never be late to a Greek party!” You countered, swiping your thumb over the pigment you just put on your lips.

Your bedroom door opened just as you were slipping a chain necklace around your collar. Reina poked her head in, her eyes looking you up and down. “Ooh-la-la,” she gushed with a teasing smile. “Someone's gotten all dolled up. I wonder who for…”

You rolled your eyes and ignored the obvious warmth rising to your face. “I just felt like it,” you defended weakly while spritzing a light mist of perfume over your neck and wrists. You stood up from your desk to collect your wallet, keys, and lip gloss to dump into a purse, then went over to retrieve your phone.

The screen displayed another message from Yeosang, no doubt continuing the conversation you had to abruptly pause because you would be late for the NCT party. This was going to be the second Greek party in two weeks—a record for your books. But you had a feeling it was going to be a good time like last week, you were sure of it.

As you skimmed the message Yeosang sent, you slipped out of the room to join Reina in the main living space. She casted you a pointed look with arms crossed over her chest and lips pressed together.

“What?” You blinked over at her innocently.

“You're never gonna see your boy at this rate,” she said as the two of you picked out your shoes for the night.

You sent a text answering Yeosang and letting him know you would be at the party soon. “He's not 'my boy,’” you said.

“Right. He's your man.”

You hated how hard it was to keep the giggle in your throat down. It was embarrassing how you smiled just then, too, turning your head away from a smug Reina.

God, he was just a guy; how did you get so head-over-heels after just one night? It had to be the fact that you'd been texting him nonstop over the past few days. Though you were busy and exhausted, you continued to check your phone all throughout the days and stayed up long into the nights just to talk to him. He had you hook, line, and sinker.

At some point, you'd forgotten what Yura warned you about on Saturday.

Your friends picked you and Reina up in one of their family minivans. A round of greetings went up as you clambered in behind Reina, and your friend asked where her cousin was tonight if she wasn't carpooling with the rest of you.

“She said she was at her sorority friend's house,” Sieun said offhandedly from the driver's seat. The minivan door closed on its own with a mechanical whirring sound. “She's probably at the party already.”

Some nights, parties called for a pregame session, while others (not unlike this one) was attacked raw. Sieun parked the minivan about a block outside of Greek row where there were spaces between cars along the curbs and where there was less of a chance of her accidentally running over a drunk partygoer stumbling into the street. The party was already in full swing with neon green strobe lights blazing aggressively through the front windows, and Gasolina blasting at nothing less than one hundred percent speaker volume.

You felt your phone vibrate in your hand as Reina grabbed your hand to avoid instantly losing you in the crowd.

@/yskang99: im on the second floor where there's less people 😋😋 they've got a nice balcony we can hide on!!

“Mark said they've got spiked Capri Sun somewhere in here!” Reina shouted into your ear.

You nodded your head vigorously. “Let's find it then!”

@/studioyn: gonna grab hard caprisun and then head up!! do u want some??

@/yskang99: surprise me w a flavor, pretty pls x

You grinned to yourself and slid your phone into your purse to focus on the task at hand.

The NCT fraternity house wasn't a completely unknown landscape to you and Reina. Being friends with one of its brothers and friends-by-association with all the rest, you'd popped by more than a few times. You could likely navigate this house with your eyes closed; that was what it was like weaving through the dark rooms and throngs of people squeezed together like sardines in a can, anyway.

Along yours and Reina's trek to the kitchen, you gained a couple people in your conga line of linked hands, NCT's own Xiaojun and Jungwoo. NCT frat brothers always pregamed, so the two brothers were already tipsy and giggled about your kindergarten field trip line (with Reina being dubbed the poor kindergarten teacher tasked with keeping you together).

When you arrived at your destination, it didn't take long for you to lose both Xiaojun and Jungwoo to the game of Texas Hold 'Em being played at the breakfast table. The singular lightbulb overheard made it feel like a smoke-filled backdoor gambling den.

“Aha!” You cheered after playing a game of mystery cooler roulette, and opened the cooler lid that held the spiked Capri Sun juice pouches on ice.

“Mine!” Reina snatched up the last cherry flavored one, the shiny aluminum slippery and ice-cold as she impaled the opening with the thin, yellow straw.

You grabbed a Pacific Cooler flavored pouch for yourself, and a second for Yeosang.

“Ah, is that for the man of your dreams?” Reina said between sips, her pouch already half empty.

You sent her a look. “He has good taste, which means he'll probably appreciate Pacific Cooler as much as I do.”

“As long as it's not lemonade,” came a voice to your left. There stood a rather tall and lean man, his warm smile enunciated by the dim kitchen lighting as the green strobe lights from the living room painted across his face. “I can't deal with sour shit,” he explained, making a face.

You laughed. “That's valid. Fruit Punch is a classic though.”

“Can't argue with that,” he replied, leaning down to pick his poison for the night. He stabbed a straw into his pouch of strawberry kiwi juice, then arched an eyebrow at you. “I feel like I know you. Do I know you?”

“Hey,” Reina chimed in as she leaned over your shoulder, “you're with the ATZ frat, aren't you? I recognize you from Twister last week.”

He smiled sheepishly from around his straw. “Ah… haha, not my best moment, but yes. I'm Yunho.”

“Reina,” your friend replied.

“Yn,” you added on.

Yunho's expression jerked as if he'd just been delivered an electric shock. He waved his pointer finger at you. “Oh my god, you're Yeosang's girl!”

Your eyes shuddered in surprise. Yeosang's girl. “Sorry?” You stammered. There was an insane amount of possessive pronouns being used tonight, buy you definitely weren't complaining about it, and could he perhaps say that again—

“Yeah, he won't shut up about you.” Yunho slurped up the rest of his juice pouch, draining and flattening the life out of it in record time. “He loves Pacific Cooler, by the way.”

He took his leave then, saying nothing else to you and Reina except for shooting you a pair of finger guns like saying 'go get em, tiger!’

Reina wheezed, draping herself over you for a moment. “Oh—my god! Good thing Yeosang's just as down in the trenches as you are.”

“Don't do this to me, Reina,” you whined and dragged her along out of the kitchen toward the second floor staircase. “I don't need encouragement; the crush is enough!”

“It's never enough,” she declared with her pointer finger up in the sky. “You are gone, my friend! Gone, I say.”

You patted her head as you both began your ascent up the stairs. “Alrighty; then gone, I am. Do you remember where the balcony is on this floor?”

She hummed. “Ooh! Somewhere by Johnjae's room, abouts. I just remember because Mark told us how—”

“Right—the sophomore year Romeo and Juliet reenactment,” you snorted. You couldn't wrap your head around the batshit crazy things that occurred around these parts. “Who convinced Doyoung to play Paris anyway?”

She made a noncommittal noise. “Must've been bribed—oh, there it is, but I think there's a couple out there already…”

There was most definitely a couple on the balcony. Their outlines were silhouettes against the residual strobe lights shining up from downstairs, so it was a little too dark to make out who they were. They seemed close—the girl was all over the boy, the latter trying to hold her up by her waist. Maybe she'd had too much to drink, and for a moment, you were glad someone was taking care of her.

But when she leaned in for a kiss, green light glanced across their faces to reveal their features to you. It was only a split second, but it was all you needed.

“Reina,” you exhaled in shock, turning away from the balcony with enough speed to nearly give you whiplash.

She didn't question you, as you both careened back down the hall from where you came from, heading for one of the open bedrooms on this floor to collect yourselves. When the two of you were out of earshot of the balcony, she hissed under her breath in utter disbelief, “Yura?”

You'd seen it nearly clear as day, too. That was Yura kissing Yeosang.

Your head spun as you shouldered your way into Mark's and Haechan's room, their names plastered on the door in foam letter stickers from the craft store. As Reina closed the door and turned on the lights, you sat down in Mark's desk chair attempting to make sense of what you and Reina just witnessed.

Yeosang and Yura? But wasn't Yura the one who warned you that chasing after Yeosang was a risk because of how many others were, as well? Why would…

Oh.

Well, now you just felt stupid.

Reina dragged over Haechan's desk chair to settle in front of you, her expression less enraged than before, and more concerned over what she was reading off of your face. “Hey, don't do that. Don't think like that.”

“You don't know what I'm thinking,” you murmured, setting the untouched juice pouches on the desk.

“You're thinking that you're stupid.”

“Okay, maybe you do know what I'm thinking.” You inhaled, then exhaled slowly, leaning forward onto your knees. “I don't really know what to think or assume.”

Reina nodded, chewing on her bottom lip. “That's okay. I don't think I really understand what I saw either.”

“But that was Yura, right?”

She bobbed her head again. “That was my cousin, yeah.”

“Would it be fair to even think that she told me all that shit last week to discourage me from seeing him?” You didn't enjoy thinking that another person would have such malicious intentions without understanding their point of view, especially someone you considered yourself friends with.

“Well,” Reina drawled, “I think we both saw what we saw, and Yura was acting strangely about it on Saturday. It would be fair if you were hurt by it; I think your feelings have been clear.”

You gave a small nod. “Do you think he…?”

“I'm not sure, hon.”

You resolved to talk to him about it. If anything, you had these juice pouches left to console yourself, but you wanted to make sure you knew where his feelings laid. You would be lying if you said your heart didn't harbor even a glimmer of hope that this was all a misunderstanding, and that the kiss was an accident and didn't matter.

You and Reina left the relative safety of Mark and Haechan's bedroom to go find Yeosang. There weren't any new messages between either of you since the Capri Sun exchange, and you thought about texting him on his whereabouts.

The balcony by Johnny and Jaehyun's room was empty now, barren of any evidence somebody was there in the first place.

You and Reina wandered back down to the main floor. The party was nowhere near over; the night was still young. Hope was sinking fast in your stomach as the two of you traveled from room to room in search of him, but with no luck. Even asking around was useless.

“Text him,” Reina encouraged, as the two of you sipped on the juice pouches that were supposed to be for you and him.

She held your spiked juice while you texted him.

As time passed, and a response had yet to come through, you tossed yours and Reina's flattened Capri Sun pouches into the nearest garbage can.

If he wasn't going to answer, then maybe you would just go home for the night. You had a lot to think about.

Defeated, you let Reina sweep you under her arm and guide you to the front door. “Let's go home, hm?” She said, rubbing your shoulder.

On your way to the front door, you paused. You thought you heard someone calling your name—

You turned around to find Mark barreling toward you through the crowd with another guy at his side. “Mark?” You shouted over the music.

“Hey, we've been looking all over for you,” he said. Nodding to his friend, he told you, “This is Wooyoung, by the way, the ATZ brother I'm friends with.”

“Yeosang's been looking for you,” Wooyoung said in earnest, eyes as wide as Mark's. Had they been looking for you as much as you were looking for Yeosang?

Something like hope sparked in your chest again—you were at odds. The fight had nearly dissipated from your blood and you were ready to go home. But if he was trying to find you… it must be worth it then, right?

“Where is he?” You asked.

It was nearing midnight by the time you settled yourself on the concrete curb outside the ATZ frat house just down the block from the target being thrown at the NCT house. With everyone over there, no wonder it was quiet enough to finally hear yourself think. With the coming of deep autumn, a slight breeze wafted by that drifted over your skin and raised goosebumps on your arms.

You heard gravel crunching from behind you, coming down the ATZ driveway, and before you could turn your head to look, a warm jacket was placed over your shoulders. You held your breath, fingers finding the lapel to keep it from slipping as you glanced over at your counterpart.

Yeosang lowered himself onto the curb next to you, mimicking your position with his knees bent and arms resting upon them. “I—my phone died,” he said lowly.

“Oh.” That took care of at least two of your questions.

“Is there—” He stopped himself, amending his statement, “There's something on your mind.”

Understatement of the century. You pulled his jacket around you, the intertwining scents of alcohol and his cologne lingering on the collar. “I was going to meet you at the balcony, and I was there, but… but I saw you and Yura, and…”

It was his turn to say “oh.” He angled his body toward you now until his knees bumped against yours and he was muttering out an apology he didn't need to say. He laid his upper body over his arms that were folded onto his knees and peered up at you through lengthy lashes.

He was waiting for you to finish.

You swallowed, following his lead and turning your body toward him. “I saw her kiss you,” you said, the sound barely audible to anybody but you and him. “Reina and I went somewhere to kind of just soak in what we saw, and then we went back out to find you so I could talk to you about it, but we couldn't find you.”

“I'm sorry you had to see that,” he murmured, eyebrows furrowed together. “It—it didn't mean anything. She did try to kiss me, but I pushed her away before she could.”

You believed him. You loosened a small chuckle from your lips. “Y'know, it sounds silly to me now, but last week she told me that there were a number of girls who were pursing you and were very aggressive about it.”

He snorted. “If there were any, I only know of one.”

“She…?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, lips pursing. “I know she's liked me for a while, but I've made it clear I don't see her the same way. At last Friday's party, I was actually trying to lose her in the crowd when I found you.”

Your eyes widened. “So she was there?” Then Reina had actually seen her cousin at the party; Yura had lied about where she was.

“She told me tonight that she was scared about me liking you more than her,” Yeosang said as he lifted his body back up to rest his cheek against his fist. “She was really drunk—which was why you probably saw me trying to hold her up—and then she… tried to kiss me. I pushed her away, and one of her friends found us, so I handed her over and went to get some air.”

And that was why you couldn't find him. You released a breath you didn't realize you were holding in. “Are you—are you okay? I'm so sorry she did that to you.”

The corners of his lips tugged upward in a reassuring smile. “I'm alright, thank you. And it's not your fault.”

“I know, but still,” you insisted. “Your boundaries were violated, and it makes me feel so icky that I've called her a friend of mine, and—what?”

Your words came to a screeching halt when you realized that Yeosang was just smiling at you. Or rather, gazing at you, admiring you. It was whatever he did whenever his eyes possessed a set of twin jewels in his irises that needed no light to glitter like gold; and when his grin softened at the corners by a tenderness that knocked the wind out of you, all words and systems failed you.

You recognized this look, except this time, you weren't drunk.

“I'm really happy I met you,” he said in your silence. “And I'm happy I got to see you again.”

You nearly melted. You smiled back at him, replying quietly, “Couldn’t have said it any better. Thank you for being honest with me.”

“And thank you for believing me.” He reached for your hand, his movements slow as if giving you an opening to pull back if you wanted to. But you didn't, and you closed the remaining space to link your fingers and press your palms together.

You and Yeosang shared mutual smiles in the dim lighting outside his fraternity house. Your heart beat had quickened a considerable amount now that he was so close to you again.

You cleared your throat. "Just to be clear though—when you said she was scared about you liking me more than her—?"

His smile reached his eyes and turned them into upturned crescent moons. "I'm not scared," he said, "that I like you more than I have ever liked her." By a landslide.

Your heart gave a lurch in your chest. "Good," you smiled. "That's good, because I like you a whole lot, too."

“Do you wanna get out of here?” Yeosang inclined his chin toward where his car was parked a couple vehicles down. “Properly this time, now that we're not completely wasted?”

You laughed. “I would love nothing more.”

Pleased, he helped you to your feet. You must have stood up far too quickly though, because the blood rushed up to your head in a riptide current. You swore as the vertigo hit you, and your footing stumbled.

“Woah, careful there, pretty,” he murmured, his low voice by your ear as he steadied you with one hand pressed between your shoulder blades and the other around your waist.

Oh, there went your heart… it flew up to halo around Yeosang's head, and it wasn't yours anymore—

“You okay?” He mused.

You cleared your throat, straightening. “Yeah, I'm great,” you said sheepishly, ducking your head toward your chest.

A warm, fond chuckle left his mouth. “Cute,” he murmured. He lifted your chin up so you would look at him, his eyes darting down toward your mouth, and yours mirroring his movements. “I was wondering…”

“You can kiss me,” you blurted out, ignoring the utter leap in your pulse and the heat crawling up the back of your neck.

You tasted his smile as he leaned over to seal his mouth over your own, a long awaited return to the place that felt just right. You breathed him in, inhaled him, devoured him whole—you wrapped your arms around his shoulders to pull him closer just as his hands pressed you flush against him.

In the distance against the heavy house music in the background, a cheer went up into the night sky.

You and Yeosang parted only to crane your heads in the direction of the noise, only to find what looked like a gathering of your friends and his friends hooting and applauding like it was New Years.

“OPERATION: PASSENGER PRINCESS WINS!” The guy from earlier, Wooyoung, practically howled up at the sky.

You pressed your face against Yeosang's shoulder as he groaned. “I am so sorry about them,” he chuckled through a grimace, lips grazing over your crown.

You laughed along with him. “My friends are also among the guilty party, Yeo.”

He kept his arm around your waist and you kept your head against his shoulder as the two of you walked away from your friends and toward his car. Contentment curled itself up over your chest again, and it nestled in deep, as if it planned to stay awhile.

“By the way,” you piped up as he unlocked his car.

“Mhm?”

You opened the passenger side door and leaned over the top of it to ask, “What the hell is Operation: Passenger Princess?”

Yeosang sputtered out a laugh and his cheekbones burned red. “How about we save that for our third date?”

You blinked, lips parting.

Yeosang grinned impishly. “Close that mouth, pretty, or I'll close it for you.”

Your jaw snapped closed, and his laugh echoed against the houses along this street. You climbed into the car after him, flustered beyond words. “I don't like you,” was all you could come up with.

“I'm sure you don't.”

a/n: pls remember to reblog + comment if you enjoyed! also, the plan is to try and write another wooyo frat au as well, so pray for me...

atz m.list

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#atzhouse #cromernet #kflixnet #ateez x reader #kang yeosang x reader #yeosang x reader #ateez oneshot #ateez drabbles #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #yeosang fluff #yeosang imagines #yeosang oneshot #yeosang drabbles #yeosang scenarios #rager: you can't out rage us

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cursedcola · 1 year

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Prompt: "Will You Marry Me?" - Proposal Headcannons Characters: Everyone :) Part(s): Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle (Here!), Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasomnia(Pt.1)(Pt.2) Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Warning(s): None. I mean, unless you don't want to marry any of them. Just don't read if that's the case. Note: These are all if he is the one proposing btw. I've been thinking about maybe programming a small fan-made mini-otome using these ideas. Just for some practice for school while also being self indulgent hehe

Azul Ashengrotto

Fortune. Azul is one fortunate soul. At least, not he thinks himself to be.

and to think that it's because of sheer luck. He did not work for you. He did not climb or claw or plan for you. He did nothing.

No, you chose him. You saw him at his lowest and decided that he was worth becoming friends with. You actively sought him out...just to spend time at his side. Regularly. You enjoyed Azul's company

and over time, he grew to enjoy yours. Immensely. Like a giddy school-girl, his heart fluttered at the thought of you and all his notebooks were covered in doodle hearts.

This was it for him. Azul is a one and done kind of man. It’s you or it’s no one. Which means that it obviously is going to be you because hello??? Azul is not a quitter.

During your younger years as students….he may have been a bit too ambitious. In other words, Azul has proposed many times

And in turn has been rejected. Many. Times.

It began passively. He’d mention here and there his future plans for after schooling. Try to talk himself up, yeah? He’s going to be a big business man, isn’t that just perfect husband material? He can take care of you easily so there’s no need to stress.

Naturally you pushed off these moments as daydreaming and casual joking. Nothing serious. So he ups his game. It just so happens that he mistakenly got a bridal magazine in the mail…oh, look at these dresses and suits! So fancy. So beautiful…oh, you would look absolutely darling in one.

….oh sweet merciful seven please take the HINT. He is LITERALLY throwing himself at you

He ups his game. Again. A romantic candle lit dinner for two. The works. Jazz music, slow dancing, good company, and the casual proposal y’know just your average date.

You have to be doing it on purpose

In your defense. He did not flat out say “will you marry me,” because he chickened out. Instead he asked if you’d like to live with him after graduation as…roommates.

The world is out to get this poor man. It is. It truly just wants him to crash and burn in embarrassment. The way you laughed and went “I think we’re a bit more than that, don’t you think?” HAUNTS him

He screamed into his pillow that night. For hours. Floyd still gives him shit for it

Life continues this way. For reasons unknown…he just couldn’t bring himself to be direct. Which is so unlike Azul considering he spent years toughening himself up.

Maybe deep down he did fear that things wouldn’t work out. A merman and a human…what if you did not want to lige in the sea? What if his body could not sustain human form for long term? Maybe he wanted you to take initiative and prove him wrong. Eventually he did give up.

At least until you both aged into the “roommates”he dreamed about. There were trials and compromise. He never thought to have two homes, one by the ocean and one literally inside of it. Life was perfect….just without the title. And on one random night, Azul thinks “One more time,”. No elaborate ruse. No trickery to get you to ask him. Just….

“Will you marry me?,” Azul whispered into your shoulder. You both lay together in your shared bedroom with nothing but the sound of crashing waves coming in from the outside. Your steady breathing halts, proving that you heard him. With a sigh, he reaches to massage your scalp, “I do not know if you have realized by now…no, I am sure of it. No one is that dense. I won’t pry for why you have ignored my past attempts…all I ask is that you answer this. Will you marry me, (Y/N)? Having you at my side has truly made me the most fortunate man alive,”

{ A black pearl over a gold band. One of the most ultimate displays of wealth. Azul is well aware that this is not the traditional pathway. He could have easily acquired a ‘genuine’ Pearl, perhaps a diamond - but no. You are a rarity. A true jewel. Only a ring worthy to reflect that is worth buying. You were the most unexpected thing and are now the most cherished. This ring represents that,}

Jade Leech

The want caught him by surprise one day, which is rare. Jade is never thrown off guard. At least, not easily.

Then again, you have always been the most difficult person for him to predict. Something he finds very charming since there is always an upbeat atmosphere wherever you go. If his days were a dimming flame, you would be just the right amount of Co2 to spark some fun - not that he would easily admit to it.

Albeit so, Jade is not blind to his emotions. He hides them well underneath a polite smile - but they are there. He is aware of them.

Which is why he snatched you up early on. A relationship was the last thing he thought to find on the surface (or in general, honestly), but Jade knows what he wants when he sees it.

He merely asks you on a date with confidence. You accept, and the process repeats until an unspoken bond formed between the two of you. Not a soul in the nearby vicinity would dare make a move on you with his lingering presence. Jade was pacified, entertained, and happily content with your circumstance.

A circumstance that Jade gets maybe a bit too comfortable with. Just like surprise, it takes a lot for Jade for feel secure. The only person he has truly felt that with is his brother. This lack of overbearing responsibility, where something is being unspoken. No ulterior motive or underlying tone in your actions that make him have to over-analyze.

In the beginning he thought of your bluntness as an extra entertainment factor. Something that he could count on to make those brief unpredictable situations amusing. Yet, as time passed he notices that it's comforting. When he's with you, Jade turns his brain off. Not entirely, of course. He still needs to throw in witty quips and fluster you at LEAST twice per day.

but it's different. It's a different comfort than what he feels with his sibling or with his friend. It's new, and strangely similar to how he feels when he forages while hiking. Perhaps finding peace in another person...maybe there is merit. Hah. Yet another surprise.

On an evening long past curfew, Jade was tending to his botany collection and miniature greenhouse. You sat on his bed, watching videos on your phone. It was almost like you weren't there with him, yet not since he felt your presence. However, there was no pressure to talk or be attentive. He found himself enjoying your presence alone, and it slipped.

"If this is how our days will be when we live together, then perhaps sharing one life is not as inconceivable as I once thought," he said amidst trimming one of his herb plants. Jade turns curiously when he hears a thump from behind, and sees you gawking at him. You had lost your grip on the cell phone, and it fell to the ground.

He eyes you suspiciously. What's startled you? He doubts that any video could render you speechless.

....he spoke aloud, yes? Not in his head. Now it's Jade's turn to lose his composure.

Another surprise, but this is his own doing. Jade has not had a slip of the tongue since his childhood. Even then it was rare. He's never experienced this kind of mess-up...yet, you don't appear appalled.

Jade places the clippers down, and coughs into his gloved hand, "well, it appears I have gotten a loose tongue. It must be from your influence, no doubt". He stands, and moves to sit next to you on his bed, "I've never spoken out of place before, you know. Do you know what this means? I've become weak...and perhaps it it is time you take responsibility for these newfound emotions. I fully intend for many moments like these to happen, and for you to not leave my side. When it is time to leave this place, I believe you will join me. No, I am certain of it"

{An eye of lapis. A reminder that he is always watching - waiting, to see you again. The gem is not see-through. It’s a tough stone. Yet it is beautiful and is appreciated nonetheless. Enough said}

Floyd leech

At first, you believed him to have an obsession. Many did, actually.

The judgement isn't uncalled for either. Floyd's emotions towards you are very strong. With the way he loves to tease and follow you around - he's got a deep attachment. He's always demanding your attention, pulling you from your duties, starting trouble, and nosy. Floyd is oh so nosy and into everything in your life.

You're a toy. His little Shrimpy. The plaything that he absolutely adores and loves to watch. You're the Friday night sitcom to his late-90s grandma.

That's how you see it because that's how he portrays it. With others in agreeance, it is easy to overlook the small undertones in his actions. Especially since he's a touchy and emotional person normally.

Somehow, Floyd had himself tricked as well. He didn't akin his emotions to obsession, but he did think that you were a toy that he would

eventually out-grow. At the start, it really was just a game for him. He liked your reactions and therefore decided to keep you around.

Yet, he never got bored. Eventually the fun events around you stopped being what he found interesting, and instead he liked you alone. Floyd being Floyd instantly tried to confess this, not wanting to waste another minute. Yet you never believed him.

He brushed it off. You'd come around. Not a day went by without him by your side. To the average onlooker (and you, to Floyd's dismay) this still appeared normal. Weeks past by like nothing.

Only the people closest to Floyd see the small giveaways. Like how he glares holes into the mirror portal every morning, or gets snappy with customers if you take too long to visit the Monstro Lounge at night. There's a booth saved, every evening with no student brave enough to go near it unless they want their head chopped off.

When he gives you a 'squeeze,' he never wraps his arms around your stomach. He instead smothers your head and goes tightly around the shoulders. Your squeezes are special. He loves them.

or the name 'Shrimpy'. How he says it to you in public, but in private he occasionally lets your real name slip out. This normally happens during moments when he feels "bored,"(i.e has nothing to talk about) or lighthearted (the rare moments when you get him to relax). Floyd has never said that name with anything other than a positive emotion, despite his mood swings. Shrimpy is his calling card for you, and only his. Yet your name is different. He feels a tummy-twisting kind of weird when he says it.

but the biggest change is Floyd's attitude towards danger when it comes to you. Before, he thrived on it. He liked to hear your stories and be part of the fun. He took joy from the scary adventures you got wrapped into; heck, he was one of them.

Now he gets morbid. Not like how he was before, with eerie threats and a suspenseful aura. He never actually acted unless told to do so, since the over-blots and delinquent students were your problem, not his.

One afternoon, you didn't show up to have lunch with him. That already made him irritable since you know better than to no-show. Did you want a squeeze? Huh, Shrimpy? He'll give you one later.

Then two students come in, all snickering and acting suspicious. Strike two. Now Floyd is upset AND annoyed. Others in the area can feel the animosity in the air.

"Did you see their face? Psh. That'll teach some snot-nosed no-mag to act all mighty. If they know what's good for them, they'll go back to whatever sh*t-hole they came from alrea-" The no-face couldn't finish his sentence. Not with one of the infamous Leech twins gripping his arm tight enough to snap bone.

Floyd smiled, "oh~ So you're the reason my little shrimp isn't eating lunch with me, aren't ya? So. What'd ya do? C'mon guys, I want to know what 'lesson' ya taught, " as Floyd spoke, his grip gradually tightened and he stared straight into the other student's eyes. Each word came out harsher than the last.

They broke quick, as he suspected. With a rough shove Floyd pushed them aside to find you. He had their faces memorized. Let them live in fear for a bit until he collects due payment. For now?

Floyd finds you at your home. He doesn't bother to knock and bursts through the front door, only to see you nursing a black eye on the couch with some ice. He wastes no time in taking it and kneeling in front of you.

Floyd holds the ice to your eye - a bit too harsh- and clenches his jaw when you wince. You won't meet his eyes and it only pisses him off more, "Oi. Look at me," and you do with your one eye. "Why didn't you call me. Why'd you not show up," You sigh and reach a hand to cover his, "because I knew you'd be pissed... I handled it, okay? No need to fake the whole 'I will protect you, my little Shrimpy' scenario. We both know that's not your thing, "

You're wrong. It's not a scenario. You can dismiss his flirting all you want, but even Floyd has a limit. Do you not see how absolutely wreaked overhearing those airheads made him? He's going to do worse than you can think. He won't kill them. No, he'll make sure that no one messes with you anymore. You can't see it, but on the inside he is over it. Done. Finished. Officially has 0% patience.

"Did you know that every time you spout crap like that, it pisses me off? I don't 'act,' because that's boring. I'm not lyin' when I say I like you, and you better start believin' it because I'm over the niceties. If someone messes with you, they mess with me. You're in deep (Y/N) and I'm not letting go, so wait here while I handle some little pests. I love ya. I act this way BECAUSE I love ya. Quit denying me already,"

No one will ever mess with you again. Not with the sparkly little gem on your ring finger, tying you to one of the largest and most threatening groups in the undersea world to date.

{ An aquamarine tear. In all honesty, Floyd did not put much thought into his gem. It sparkled. It is the color of his hair streak (or close to it). He imagined it on your finger and thought that it would stand out - ensuring that anyone and everyone could see it. He thought of your possible expression upon seeing it, and was sold}

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janeyseymour · 24 days

Text

Love Thy Neighbor, Two Families Become One- pt 3

Part 1. Part 2.

Summary: The proposal... and a little something extra.

WC: ~3.25k

It’s a few days later that Melissa is able to get Ellie alone without you hovering around. It doesn’t happen often- the three of you spend nearly all of your time together, and none of you would have it any other way. But today, you have a meeting with one of your student’s parents in regards to their reading levels being a bit too low for your liking and how the child qualifies for the extended year program.

So at the end of dismissal duty, you head into your room while your daughter and girlfriend go into Melissa’s classroom.

Ellie dives onto the bean bag that the redhead keeps on her carpet with a delightful giggle. “Mom, do you have a snack? I’m hungry.”

“You know I always keep snacks in here for you, my growing girl,” Melissa chuckles as she opens her cabinet. “Why don’t you come pick out a snack, and then I want to have a little chat with you.”

“Oh?” Ellie furrows her brows in a way where she looks nearly identical to you. But then she shrugs. “Can I have two snacks?”

“We’ll see,” the teacher tells your little girl. “We can’t have you spoiling dinner… I am making your favorite, after all.”

“You’re going to make ziti?!” Ellie’s eyes go wide.

Melissa nods. “Now come pick out a snack, and then we really do have to talk before Momma’s finished with her meeting.”

“Secret meeting?” the seven year old asks as she makes her way over to the cabinet. She picks a packet of fruit snacks before looking up to your girlfriend. Melissa leads her over to the teacher desk and sits down in her chair. Ellie eagerly climbs into her lap. “What do we have to talk about?”

“Elizabeth,” the redhead says softly. Your little girl looks a bit nervous at her full first name, but Melissa keeps her tone soft and gentle- warm and full of love. “I need you to be serious for a second, can you do that for me?”

“Am I in trouble?”

“No, hun… I have something I have to ask you.”

“Oh?”

“I… I’ve been thinking about this for a little while… How would you feel if I asked your momma to marry me?”

“You want to marry Momma?!” Ellie whisper shouts. The second grade teacher puts a finger to her lips, and your little girl only repeats her question in a softer tone.

“I… I do, but I want to make sure that that’s okay with you, because if it isn’t, I won’t ask her.”

“Mom!” Ellie grins. “Of course I want you to marry Momma! Then I can be a real Schemmenti, and not just a honor… honorary Schemmenti! Oh my gosh, I have to-”

Melissa breathes a sigh of relief as she peppers your daughter’s face in kisses. “Oh, thank goodness.”

“Did you really think I would tell you not to marry Momma?!”

“I mean… I just didn’t want to assume you would be okay with it,” the redhead says softly as she continues to hold onto Ellie.

“Duh I’m okay with it! Why wouldn’t I be?! We already all live together, and you’re my favorite person, and I call you Mom!”

“I suppose you’re right, little one,” your girlfriend chuckles softly before sobering. “I want to make this special though, so I need you to not tell your Momma.”

The seven year old crosses her heart and mimes zipping her lips.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Ellie whispers conspiratorially. At Melissa’s nod, the girl continues. “I asked Momma when you guys were getting married because I wanted it for a while now… I also asked her when I was gonna get a little sister.”

Melissa raises a brow. “And what did Momma have to say about those two questions?”

“She telled me that you don’t want to get married again, and that I probably wouldn’t get a little sister,” Ellie frowns. “But now you telled me that you do want to get married, so can I have a little sister?!”

The redhead chuckles. “Maybe in time, sweetheart… Let’s focus on us getting married first.”

“But I want a little sister… or a puppy.”

Your girlfriend sighs a heavy sigh. “Maybe in time. Maybe in time.”

Ellie seems satisfied with that answer, and she happily eats her fruit snacks while sitting in Melissa’s lap. The redhead is scrolling through rings on her phone, and the little one will occasionally chime in with her thoughts.

“Momma likes simple,” she tells Melissa.

“Momma likes the ones that are silver.” Your girlfriend already knew that one.

“I think Momma will like that one.”

Melissa bookmarks a few of them before you walk into the room, looking absolutely drained.

“Hey,” you sigh softly. “I’m ready to head home if you guys are.”

“Momma!” Ellie grins, and the redhead fears for a second that she’s going to blow the secret. But of course, she doesn’t. “Mom said she was going to make ziti for dinner, which means Ellie cuddles and a nap!”

“Oh, I could use that,” you chuckle softly as your little girl leaps out of Melissa’s lap and reaches for your hand.

You’re out at the grocery store by yourself that Saturday- an unusual occurrence. Melissa told you that she was too sore from the workout she did with Gregory, and Ellie insisted on staying on home to cuddle and make your girlfriend feel better. That was a lie though, and they’re actually both out at a jewelry store a few miles away.

“I’m telling you, Mom!” Ellie insists. “Momma will love this one! It’s perfect!”

“And what has you so sure about that?”

“It’s the opposite of what Daddy gave her,” your little girl states matter-of-factly. “And Momma told me that she hated the ring Daddy gave her.”

Melissa looks at the ring carefully, and she has to admit that it is quite beautiful. She can practically imagine it resting on your ring finger by itself before being joined by a simplistic wedding band to match. “You really think she’ll like it?”

“She’ll love it,” Ellie grins as she rocks back and forth on her toes. “I pinky swears.”

The redhead looks to the sales associate. “Then this is the one we’ll get.”

“Perfect, a lovely selection. Do we need to alter it at all?”

“It’s actually just her size,” Melissa smiles. “I’ll take it as is.”

The two of them leave on a high, holding hands as they make their way back home with plenty of time to spare- they know you tend to spend at least an hour and a half at the grocery store.

They curl up on the couch and settle in to watch a movie.

“But how are you gonna propose to Momma?” Ellie asks softly as she situates herself in your girlfriend’s lap.

“I have an idea,” Melissa states quietly, but that’s all she’ll say. She has a plan alright- and surprising Ellie is a part of that too.

When you come home, Ellie is fast asleep on Melissa’s chest while your girlfriend gently runs her fingers through your daughter’s locks.

“Honey, I’m home!” you joke, not yet seeing that your little girl is asleep. “Care to help me with the groceries?”

“You know I always do,” the redhead sighs. “But alas… the little pipsqueak is asleep on me, and I fear that it is the law that I do not disturb her dreams.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Fine. I’ll bring everything in, but I better get lucky tonight.”

Those green eyes glint with mischief as she remembers the ring that is safely tucked away in her nightstand drawer. “You’ll get more than lucky if I can help it.”

With a sigh, you head back down to the parking garage and begin to lug everything up to the apartment to put it away before you start to make dinner for the three of you. The last thing that you bring up is a bouquet of flowers for the woman still lounging on the couch.

“For you, my love,” you smile as you place them in front of her.

Her eyes go soft as she looks up at you. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

Dinner is in the process of being made and you’re still in the kitchen when your little girl wakes up and stretches slightly.

“Why don’t you go get into your jammies and play for a bit in your room before dinner?” Melissa suggests gently.

Ellie looks at the redhead a bit funny, but she nods and heads for the direction of her room. Melissa takes the opportunity to come wrap her arms around your waist as you sip on your wine and continue to fry the hamburger meat in the saucepan.

“My beautiful girlfriend,” Melissa whispers as she kisses your cheek. “How was the grocery store?”

“Fine,” you chuckle as you turn in her arms and face her. “How was El for you?”

“You know your little girl is always good for me,” your girlfriend says softly, knowing it will lead you to correct her.

“Our little girl,” you say exactly what she’s hoping you would say.

She hums. “Maybe we should look into making that official? I would love to adopt our little girl, if you would be open to that.”

“What?” you whisper, eyes wide. “Wait, really?”

Melissa shrugs. “You know how much I adore El. And you heard Nonna and my mom: she’s an honorary Schemmenti. Why not make it official?”

“I think that would be wonderful,” you tell her honestly. “The only issue is that I’m not sure I would want her to have a different last name from mine.”

“Well,” your girlfriend trails off. She releases you and heads back into your own bedroom before coming back out. You’re back to facing dinner, and you don’t notice that she kneels down in front of you on one knee and has the beautiful ring that she bought for you earlier out on display.

“Mel, what? You can’t just start to say something and then leave… you know how that drives me up a wall,” you sigh as you hear her footsteps stop. Her arms don’t wrap around you the way that you expect them too, and you exhale deeply as you turn around. When you expect her to be eye level with you though, she isn’t. You look down, and there she is holding out the ring.

“Become a Schemmenti with her then,” is all your girlfriend says.

Your hands fly up to your face as your eyes well with tears. “I thought- I thought you didn’t want to get married again,” is all you can get out, shock overtaking you for a moment.

“I said it would take a freaking miracle,” she corrects you softly. “And you and Ellie are that miracle for me… so, what do you say? Will ya marry me?”

“Oh my god, yes!” You shout as you tackle her to the floor in a hug. “Oh my god!”

Melissa just chuckles as she kisses you.

Ellie comes out of her bedroom, clearly confused and a bit concerned at the commotion in the kitchen. “Moms?” Her eyebrows furrow when she sees the two of you on the floor, and you have tears trailing down your cheeks.

“Happy tears, El,” you chuckle as you wipe them.

“What’s going on?”

“I asked Momma to marry me,” your now fiancée grins. “And she said yes.”

Your little girl breaks out into the biggest grin. “Really?!”

“Yeah, baby girl,” you choke out. “Momma’s getting married again.”

Ellie immediately flies into both of your arms, wanting to get in on the happiness and excitement of it all.

“I helped pick out the ring with Mom!” your daughter giggles. “Do you like it?”

This gives Melissa the opportunity to slip the ring onto your finger, and you hold it up to get a look at it. It’s stunningly beautiful and simplistic- the exact opposite of what your ex-husband had given you when you were far too young and foolish to be getting married.

“Like it?” you whisper, shocked at how they had managed to find what was essentially your dream ring. “I love it. It’s beautiful… It’s perfect.”

“I’m glad you like it,” the redhead smiles as she kisses your head again. “Ellie told me that you would.”

“And she was so right,” you chuckle as you pull your little girl into your lap. “It’s perfect.”

The entire time that you finish cooking dinner, your new ring absolutely sparkles and you can’t help but admire it.

When you sit down for dinner, Ellie asks, “So now that you’re going to be a Schemmenti, when do I get to be one?”

Melissa hums and heads back into your bedroom. She comes back out with another box and hands it to your little girl. “Your momma and I were talking about this, and El… how would you feel if I adopted you and you became an official Schemmenti too?” She opens the box, and inside is a beautiful necklace that she had purchased along with your ring.

Ellie’s eyes immediately well with tears, but she’s nodding and tears start to pour down her face. She launches herself into the redhead’s arms. Melissa immediately winds her arms around your little girl, peppering her cheeks with kisses.

“My sweet girl,” she whispers softly.

“I really get to be a Schemmenti?” Ellie asks quietly as she lets the woman put the necklace on for her.

“You really do, sweetheart,” you smile softly as you reach over to rub your daughter’s arm. “We’re gonna be a family, baby girl.”

“So when am I gonna get a little sister now?” your little girl looks between the two of you curiously. “I got my two biggest wishes to come true, and now I want a little sister.”

“One step at a time, my love,” you roll your eyes playfully. “Let’s just settle into this for now.”

“It’ll happen in due time, El,” Melissa states. And that shocks you- the two of you had never had the discussion of adding more children into the mix, partially because you were under the impression that she hadn’t wanted marriage again… but you’re here now with that stunning ring sitting on your finger, and she’s not wholeheartedly rejecting the idea of having another child running around the house.

That night, after Ellie is in bed and the two of you had engaged in some celebratory activities, you fall into your pillows.

“I love you,” you whisper as you turn to face your new fiancée. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I love you too,” Melissa smiles as she kisses your nose. She laces your fingers with hers. “Do you really like the ring though? Because if you don’t, we can pick out-”

“I adore it,” you promise her. “You and Ellie did a wonderful job picking it out.”

“Okay,” the redhead hums as she thumbs the ring. “If you say so.”

“I can’t believe we’re getting married,” you sigh happily.

She smiles against your shoulder. “We are, and I can’t wait to start that chapter of our lives together.”

It’s your turn to hum. “A new chapter… and Ellie really wants to be a big sister.”

“She does,” Melissa chuckles. “What do you think about it?”

“What do you think about it?” you repeat her question back to her.

The woman smiles softly. “I don’t think it’s off the table… but I am getting to the age where I wouldn’t feel comfortable carrying a child, and I do think that we would have to move if we decided to add another to the mix.”

You nod in agreement.

“What do you think about it, hun?” she prompts you gently.

“I think…” you yawn. “That we need to focus on getting married, filling for you to adopt her legally, and then we can think about the rest of it- because if it happens, that would be great. But if it doesn’t, my life with the two of you is already beautiful enough.”

Melissa nods thoughtfully. “I suppose you’re right. Get some sleep, amore.”

You drift off to sleep, dreaming of what’s next to come in life. You see you and Melissa growing older together, watching Ellie as she blossoms into a beautiful young woman. You see the simplicity of domestic life with her… and then you see yourself in the hospital holding a brand new baby. And you know that you would love to have a little one running around again, getting to grow up with two mothers and an older sister who love more than anyone.

You dream of that again the next night, and if you weren’t positive on the decision the two of you had made to get married, have Melissa adopt Ellie, and figure out what the future might hold for you, those dreams secured that you are absolutely doing the best thing that you could be doing for your family.

When you walk into school on Monday, that ring of yours is sparkling on your finger. When you sit down in your spot in the staff lounge, Ellie curled up in your lap with her own necklace on, the sunlight that peeks in through the window hits them perfectly and highlights them.

It’s only a few moments later that the rest of your crew trickles in at once, and they all immediately see the shining from your finger.

“Wh-what is that?” Janine stammers out.

“Yeah! What is that?!” Jacob echoes.

You just hold your left hand up and wiggle your fingers. “I got engaged last night.”

“T-to Melissa?” Gregory asks. “The woman who claimed that she would never get married again.

Barb just breaks out into a grin and all but tackles her work wife in a hug. Your fiancée lets out a gasp as she takes on the force.

“To Mel,” you smile. “And that’s not even the best news.”

“What could be better news than that?!” Jacob asks. “Mel Mel is getting married!”

You jostle the little girl in your lap. “You wanna tell ‘em, El?”

“Mommy’s going to adopt me, and we’re all gonna be Schemmentis!” Ellie squeals. “Look! She got me a necklace and everything to match Momma’s ring!”

“Oh!” the kindergarten teacher gasps as she releases Melissa. She immediately pulls her former student into her lap. “Oh, little girl!”

“I know!” your daughter squeals happily. “And!”

“What else could there possibly be?” Barbara asks with a bright smile.

“I’m gonna be a big sister!”

Everyone gasps collectively as eyes fall to you. You shake your head quickly and with fervor. “Not yet… but there are talks about potentially expanding our family… after we get married, Ellie’s been adopted, and if we still aren’t broke after that.”

“Well if this isn’t the best damn news we’ve gotten in a long time,” Barbara grins as she continues to hold Ellie tightly.

The crew sits in the staff lounge chatting about last night’s events until it’s time to start getting ready for your students. They all leave with shouts of more congratulations.

As the two of you drop Ellie off for her day in first grade and down the hall hand in hand to your own little corner of the school, you see your last name at the door- and you can’t wait to be able to change that sign to read ‘Mrs. Schemmenti’.

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary

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octuscle · 1 month

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Howdy, Support! I'm a 22yo twink working at a rest stop in the middle of nowhere. Only good part about my job is uh..."servicing" the passing truckers. One of 'em is a real beast of a man; late thirties, tall, burly and hairy, with a big, solid beer/roid gut that's always straining against his filthy tanktop. Everytime he stops by, we have a beer shotgun contest right in front of everyone. Loser blows the winner in the stalls. I normally enjoy losing (not that I have a choice), but this time, I want him to meet his match...literally! I want to drink him under the table, and with each beer I down, I want to feel my gut grow heavier and larger as my work clothes turn into a stained tanktop and I gradually transform into a hulking, hairy trucker that stinks of sweat, just like him. I've programmed all the relevant settings for height, muscle, hair, BO, attitude and clothing, but I just realized I don't know how to sync the transformation to an event trigger like shotgunning the beers, much less on how to make it gradual! Please help me, he's due today!

I love challenges… First of all, I'll add one more skill to your traits. "Stable up to 3.5 per mille". I don't know how much your crush can take. But now you've got a damn good chance of drinking the guy under the table. However, you should manage at least 2.0 per mille. Because your transformation will take place in parallel with your blood alcohol level. Linear, until you have reached 2.0 per mille. At 2.0 per mille, the transformation is complete.

It's around 8 p.m. when your buddy finally comes in the door. Like you said: a beast of a man. The fist bump he gives you almost breaks your forearm bones. Beast of a man? You're miles or 2.0 per mille away from that. You are cute. But a twink. Not a man.

The regulars know what to expect. They chant "Booze! Booze! Booze!" One of them shouts that you're in desperate need of a protein shot. The others roar. Your buddy orders 20 cans of beer. He shouts to his colleagues that there will definitely be some left for them. He looks at you, winks and licks his lips. He has no idea.

The first can of beer. It really hits you. 0.3 per mille. One seventh of your way gone in one go. You feel a bit dizzy. You've been king of the highway for two years now. Well, maybe prince of the highway. You haven't put much weight on your ribs yet. But the good food at the truck stops and the hard work loading your truck are already having a bit of an effect. Your arms are no longer as thin as twigs.

The second beer. It didn't go quite so quickly. You have to burp loudly. Your buddy follows your example. 0.56 per mille. You've been driving your 7.5-ton baby through the countryside for over three and a half years. Does you good. Not as skinny as you used to be. You look healthy. Maybe a little red in the face. Drunk.

After the third beer you have over 0.8 per mille. Another burp. You need a piss. You stand with your legs apart in front of the urinal to avoid peeing on your boots. You take out your cheesy beauty from your dirty jockstraps. And empty your bulging bladder. Wash your hands? That's for twinks. You simply wipe your hands on your dirty Wranglers.

Janet brings you some onion rings with your beer. Good idea. After the toilet break, you finish your fourth beer almost in one go. Your buddy has noticeable problems. Your blood alcohol level is over 1.0 per mille. This competition between you and your colleague has been going on for about seven years. In the trucker scene, your competitions are small highlights. As soon as it is clear when and where you will next get drunk under the table and then disappear to the stalls, new routes are planned. Service stations know that you'll bring in good sales and are keen to host the competition. There used to be a lot of betting on winning and losing. Your buddy has been unbeaten for seven years. There's not much betting anymore. The odds on you winning are huge. But nobody expects that anyway.

The next beer. At 1.26 per mille, you start to falter. Your buddy weighs a few more kilograms than your 100. Maybe you're already a little over 100 - you broke that magic barrier a few weeks ago on your 30th birthday. Eat, work hard and lift iron in the evening. That shapes your body. And beer. Lots of beer. To the delight of the audience, you interrupt your drinking contest for a short burping contest. The landlord actually has a device to measure the volume. You lose. That's clear. You lack the resonance body…

The next beer is a big miss for both you and your buddy. Your dirty tank tops are now wet from the beer. But that was a quick round of drinking, so it happens. You feel a bit dizzy. Your buddy is already looking extremely glassy-eyed. A murmur goes round the room. Should you really stand a chance?

After the seventh beer, you both have to go for a piss. Shit, why are you doing this to yourselves? So that one of you can blow the other? You do that as often as you can see each other anyway. And luckily your paths cross from time to time. "Dude, has your beast grown?" slurs your buddy as you stand swaying in front of the urinals and can no longer aim and hit the target very well. "You bet your life, get ready for a lot, bro," you slur back. "And now give me a kiss, I can't wait any longer."

You're too drunk to remember to turn your caps backwards. You push his cap off his head and it falls into a puddle of urine. Damn, it's seen worse. You stagger back to your beer cans. After the eighth beer, your first goal is achieved. 2.0 per mille blood alcohol. Spread over a proud 120 kilograms of your 35-year-old body. A passionate trucker for 13 years. Your 36-ton beast is basically your home and your family. Hehehe, there are a few other people in the family too. Mike here next to you, for example. You rip open the ninth can and empty it almost at record speed. Shit, you're going to be sick. Mike opens the can, takes a sip. And stumbles towards the toilet. He can't reach the toilet bowl. But at least he throws up in the sink.

When he comes back, he looks at you with glazed eyes. He falls to his knees in front of you to the loud roar of the audience and tries to open your trousers with his drunken head. You have to laugh. "Not here, not now, Buddie" You pull him up. Let him sober up a bit first. You should both enjoy the moment when he sucks you off for the first time!

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #chronivac #tank top #age progression #redneck tf #twink to jock #ai image

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hxzbinwrites · 2 months

Note

Yayyy! Vox was who I wanted to make a request for so I was thinking what if female reader is an overlord who deals with weapons that can kill sinners and hellborn. Maybe she is also an owner of a nightclub? maybe she died in the 1920s and she knew Alastor as well and maybe she’s had a crush on him but he’s not interested in her so then she goes and she dates Vox but then she catches him positioned with Val and she doesn’t know the extent how Valentino is abusing Vox so then fast forward 7 years later and they meet again because she’s helping Alastor and of course that makes Vox jealous and angry and Vox just wants her back and he’ll do anything to show her that he changed and he just wants her back. And maybe he explains how Val treated him and then a happy ending heheh. 🤭 I love your stories. Also maybe reader is badass and is like doesn’t need a man because she got herself but she also loves when Vox protects her? Kinda like that song on TikTok from Olivia Rodrigo that goes “I’m a feminist obviously but I wouldn’t really mind him saving me”

Vox x Fem! Overlord! Weapons Dealer! Reader | Stayed Gone

(A/n): IM BACCKKKK!!! Sorry this is kind rushed, but it was a really fun write!!! I’m promise I’ll get working on more requests but i’m gonna take it easy to slide back into writing after my little break! Thank you to all of those who supported me through this!! ❤️❤️

Warnings ⚠️: Cussing, Vox is OOC, Cheating, Violence, Short (sorry :( )

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!” (Y/n) said, throwing a wine glass across the room, particularly aiming at the TV who was caught in the act with a certain moth.

“(Y/n), babe, ‘ts not what it looks like I swear-“

“Oh really?” She said, a venomous lilt in her voice,”cause right now it looks like you’re getting screwed by your little business partner? Huh? Am I not right on the money sugar? Oh, but where’s that little sarcastic buzzer now?!”

Vox slipped his pants on, zipping up his fly while trying to walk towards (Y/n)

“I swear, you’ve got it all wrong. I’m..this isn’t…we’re not…”

“Save it.” She said,”This, us, is over. Our business deal is over. And if you even try to negotiate or give me some shitty excuse, this little turf you have will belong to my empire and become my next factory.”

Vox was left, standing here, shirt off and wrinkled pants on, watching as the love of his life took the bare necessities and walked out of his life, all while Valentino watched and smirked at the sight.

—————

7 Years Later

“THAT FUCKER IS BACK!!” Vox screamed, his fists slamming down on the table. A month before (Y/n) walked out, the infamous Radio Demon went MIA, and has now returned to the scene, alongside the Princess of Hell, Charlie Morningstar.

“Yeah” Valentino said, in a sultry voice,”I thought he was gone for good too”

“It’s been seven years!” Vox huffed, turning away from the screen, missing a very crucial person who just walked outside to scope the situation of the attack on the hotel.

“You still pissed he almost beat you that time, right before your little angel walked out~?” Valentino teased, rubbing Vox’s digital cheek on his screen, causing a squeegee noise to be emitted

“Uh, fuck you!”

“Just saying!”

“Things have changed a lot since they both left town!”

“That’s for sure”

“I gotta send a message to who’s, really in charge of things now!!”

“Welcome home, I’m gonna make you wish that you’d stayed gone! Say hello, to a new status quo. Everyone knows that there’s a brand new dawn, turn the TV ON!!!”

“Top of the hour, and we’re discussing a certain ‘has-been’ who has been spotted cavorting around town after a seven year absence! Did anybody miss him? Did anybody notice? More on tonight’s program!”

“So the Radio Demon is back in town! Why’s he hanging around? What does that mean for your family? Well handily I’ve got good news, he’s a loser, a fossil, and I don’t mean to sound hostile, but the demon is a coward!”

“You can take that as gospel! Pulling my viewers? Impossible. I’m visual, he’s barely audible! Stop giving him the time of day, don’t listen to a word he’d say! I hope he had a nice vacay, but he should’ve STAYED AWAY!”

“While he rid in radio, we’ve pivoted to video! Now his medium is getting bloody rare!! Hell’s been better since he split! Where’s he been? Who gives a shit!”

“Salutations! Good to be back on the air~!” A familiar, static filled voice responded.

“Yes I know it’s been a while, since someone with style, treated Hell to a proper broadcast. Sinners rejoice!-“

“What a dated voice!-“

“Instead of a clout-chasing, mediocre video podcast-“

“C’mon!”

“Is Vox insecure? Perusing allure? Flitting between this fad and that, is nothing working?”

“Ignore his chirping!”

“Everyday he’s got a new format!”

“You’re looking at the future, he’s the shit that comes before that!”

“Is Vox as strong as he purports? Or is it based on his support? He’d be powerless without the other Vees!”

“Oh please!”

“And here’s the sugar on the cream, he asked me to join his team! I said no, stole his girl, and now he’s pissy, that’s the tea!”

“WHAT?! YOU OLD-TIMEY P-PRICK, ILL SHOW YOU SUF-UF-FFERING!!!!”

“Uh oh, looks like the TV is buffering” A new voice said, mocking Vox’s breakdown. Except it wasn’t a “new” voice, it was (Y/n). (Y/n), with Alastor, at the Hazbin Hotel.”

“ILL DESTROY-Y YOUUUUUU”

“I’m afraid you’ve lost your signal” Alastor said, taking the mic back before finishing his number.

“Let’s begin~”

“I’m gonna make you wish that I’d stayed gone! Tune on in! When I’m done, your status quo will know it’s race is run! Oh this will be fun!”

Vox could hear Alastor laughing alongside (Y/n) in the background, as his monitors start to flash “no signal”

“FUCK!” He whines

————

The gang was all downstairs, Charlie explaining what tomorrows fun activity would be when a loud banging was heard on the door.

“A NEW GUEST!!” Charlie squealed, stars in her pupils, as she ran to go open the door, only to be met with a very tall TV Overlord.

Alastor’s antlers shot out of his head while (Y/n)‘s weapons were at the ready.

“I come with no harm!” Vox said, raising his hands, before locking eyes with (Y/n). His digital eyes made little heart pupils before blinking them away, embarrassed.

“(Y/n)…” he breathlessly said,”I-I know you hate me…but please, I-“

“Save it Vox.”

“I wish I could explain to you that night, or even today, but I can’t! This….deal has my lips sealed shut my love-I mean (Y/n). I-I just…I cannot explain myself with this contract I have.”

“Wait” Angel Dust said,”You’re Valentino’s little situationship, right?”

“If that’s what you wanna call it….”

“Wait….oh shit” Angel said, walking over to him,”I…I know what it’s like…”

“I know…I see you around his studio…I’m not above owning souls, I have my own, but to work with him…? I’d…..I’d free you all in a heartbeat….”

“Vox?” (Y/n) said,”are you in some sort of deal with Val over your…body.”

Vox could only look at her, not able to give her any conformation.

“Oh Vox…I…I didn’t know…I-“

“I know dear…” Vox said, smiling sadly,”but you have a erm….partner, of sorts, not your finest option but whatever, now and I wouldn’t want to intervene-“

“Oh Alastor? Me and him aren’t in a relationship” (Y/n) replied,”You know him, Mr. Ace in the Hole!”

“A what now?-“

“Ohhhhh, that…that explains so much.” Vox said, looking at the Radio Demon.

“Vox…I-I think we need to go home, talk about this in private….after I squish a bug.”

“Okay…” Vox said, holding (Y/n)‘s hand,”but what about this hotel?”

“I’ll still work here, with everyone, I believe in the cause. I just didn’t think you’d want to.”

“Maybe I can….put some ads on if you’d like-“

“YES YES YES PLEASE THANK YOU MR. VOX SIR ID REALLY APPRECIATE IT!!!” Charlie said, shaking Vox’s other hand,”IM CHARLIE!!”

Vox smiled, a genuine smile for the first time in a while,”Yeah, yeah I think I need to hang here a little more often…detox a little…”

“Good, I can’t have you stressed out too much, I just got you back.” (Y/n) said, rubbing his digital cheek affectionately,”my little trophy husband”

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cheeseanonioncrisps · 3 months

Text

One of the more interesting aspects of Stayed Gone is the implication that, prior to his disappearance, Alastor must have been producing some quality programming.

Despite it's obvious importance in the modern world, TV apparently only started outcompeting radio in Hell after Alastor vanished. Seven whole years ago. And when Al returns, Vox's first response is to freak the fuck out about whether he's gonna keep his audience.

That's fucking crazy.

And we can be pretty sure that people weren't just listening in out of fear, either. Or because Alastor was making any major effort to crush all other forms of media.

If this was purely about which Overlord was the most powerful, then Vox's verses would surely have focused on emphasising his own strength. Instead, they're all about calling radio outdated. Vox is genuinely worried— apparently based on experience— that Alastor is going to outdo him in terms of sheer entertainment value.

Which raises the obvious question: what were Al's shows actually like? (Aside from those early broadcasts guest-starting the screams of the damned, obviously.)

We get kind of a taster in the song:

“Salutations! Good to be back on the air. Yes, I know it's been a while, since someone with style treated Hell to a broadcast— Sinners, rejoice!— instead of a clout-chasing mediocre video podcast. Is Vox insecure, pursuing allure? Fitting between this fad and that, is nothing working? Every day, he's got a new format! Is Vox as strong as he purports? Or is it based on his support? He'd be powerless without the other Vees! And here's the sugar on the cream: he asked me to join his team! I said no, and now he's pissy, that's the tea!”

Obviously he's doing it to music, so there's going to be some difference in the cadence of his voice from that, but still, he's talking noticeably quicker than he does in person. And he gets right to the point.

Compare it to his commercial in episode 1. There's a big difference in terms of both how much respect he's showing his audience (“well hello there, you wayward sinner!” vs “good to be back on the air”), and how much relevant information he delivers.

Alastor is a great character to watch, but most people who interact with him directly seem to find the experience either annoying, awkward, terrifying or all three.

Mainly because Al seems to go out of his way to put people off even when he's actively trying to get them to trust him, by making condescending asides or constantly dropping references to his own power. On air, however, he greets everyone politely and even drops what is almost an apology for being gone so long (“I know it's been a while”), then immediately gets to the information that he knows they're really listening for.

Alastor may not respect Charlie, Adam or Lucifer, but he does respect his audience.

And the content he's producing makes it clear why people are still tuning in. Al has the gossip. Katie Killjoy and Tom Trench may not be unbiased exactly, but they're clearly trying to provide sources for their claims and maintain some veneer of professional news reporting.

Al, meanwhile, is quite happy to provide strong opinions and baseless speculation about public figures, content that is less fitting with the professional image that Vox seems so desperate to keep up, but that is likely to attract a bigger audience.

What gets me curious now, however, is wondering what else he used to provide.

Again, radio was apparently the medium for news and entertainment in Hell until Alastor left. Implying that a) radio was at the time fulfilling many of the function that TV now provides, and b) Alastor was involved enough in this that it collapsed/got overthrown the moment he left town.

Did Alastor have an empire similar to the Vees? Did he run a bunch of channels? Did he have DJs and sports commentators and presenters on his payroll?

Given that radio seems to have collapsed completely after he left— did they all go running to Vox when he was presumed dead? Was the Vees new empire in part built on the ruins of Alastor's old one?

Or did he do the whole thing solo and just run like, a bunch of different shows. (In which case, since radio's bread and butter has always been music, Helluva Boss fans can now have fun imagining him interviewing Verosika Mayday about ‘Vacay to Bonetown’.)

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel meta #hazbin spoilers #alastor hazbin #vox #stayed gone #meta #hazbin hotel headcanons #i'm writing this right before bed so excuse if it seems a bit disjointed #🥱

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thefiresontheheight · 7 months

Text

"...while these [corporate re-education] programs have shown evidence of marginal positive effects (Meredithe et al.) and continue to be employed (Kine-Veck), they ultimately run into the same limitations as A.I. on interstellar hauls infallibly loyal to those possessing their security codes. That is, once outside effective communication distance companies cannot rely on any positive reinforcement. For this reason, it has been suggested that re-education instead focus on loyalty to the rest of the crew, rather than loyalty to the company." - A Proposal for Use of Romantic/Sexual Re-education on Interstellar Haul Crews, Delivered to the Board of VeckQwenZemco on New Armstrong, Mars, 2998 CE. *** The divorce come down and turn around was brutal. One moment your brain and biochemistry and hormones, all carefully wired by the re-education modules, make you fully believe that you have long been in a deep, committed, passionate relationship with the six to eight other people on the haul. You look at them and even though you know you'll only spend a few weeks of subjective time with them, maybe a month or two on a longer job, only a brief window out of cryo and not lagged by relativity, even though you know what you gave the company your written consent to do, your brain still loves them. Then you pull into orbit over Eridiani, or Luna, or wherever, you probably bang one last time, say your tearful goodbyes, and spend the next few weeks crying like you just lost the love of your life as the chemicals wash out and the deprogramming modules hit. The moment is over. But time spent on a company station meant time wracking up debt for oxygen, water, food. So, still on the come down, Reade looked for a course, signed the wavers, gave her consent, grabbed the meager belongings that had gotten her through seven of these hauls, now dating from over forty years ago given the time lost to cryo and near-light travel. File down to concourse-E. Begin again. "Here for the haul?" the skinny low-g kid of her in the line said. "Um, VeckGreenQwenZemco 3043-28897?" Reade sized them up. New kid. First haul. She could smell it on them. In a few hours she'd probably love them and have her brain inventing all sorts of bullshit justifications for the neurochemical feelings the company would induce in her in order to improve team cohesion and morale trillions of miles away from anyone else. In a few hours she'd love them for their optimism, their smile, their cheery attitude and all the questions. But not yet. Right now, still awash in the last break up, Reade savored the simple joy of being a miserable bitch. "Kid," she said, with a malicious grin, "you're gonna love me in a bit. But you're still gonna remember this so I want you to get a good earful of it before the re-education. I'm fucking hate you and hate that I have to do this and if I could I'd throw you out a fucking airlock." She pulled her headphones on and cranked the volume. It hurt, in her chest, and the least she could do was make someone else hurt with her. That freedom, at least, she had for a few more minutes.

#my writing #science fiction #original fiction

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popponn · 7 months

Text

coincidences and flickers.

i - a painting.

notes: fem!burnout artist!reader x pro-player!isagi yoichi ; pro player / post canon au ; self depreciating thoughts towards one's own work ; fluff, with slight angst (burnout) with a happy ending (a slight hurt/comfort) ; unreliable narrator. a.n. at the end.

summary: isagi yoichi is a passionate soccer rising star with pleasant mannerisms and you were trying to not look at that painting of yours. it happened as simply as it was by chance.

series masterlist. ; next.

In hindsight, that painting truly was awful.

You stared indifferently towards it from the other side of the room. Beyond the passing bodies dressed in elegant night dresses and suits, that painting hung across you. You leaned your back against the wall behind you, your brows furrowing into a harsher glare as you observed the fruit of your labors—a commission from a rich client, a congratulatory piece for some soccer players they sponsored.

The party was bustling with chit-chat and pleasantries, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to join them. It felt like despite the invitation given to you, you truly felt like you didn’t belong here to celebrate with them that night. You once again let your eyes bore into your work once again.

The way the colors were used felt all wrong, too bright in some and too gray in others. The silhouette of the point of interest is too strong it gives ‘tackiness’ as an impression rather than the eye-catching effect it was supposed to have. The composition is too simple and thus makes the whole painting fall flat. The theme is not expressed clearly enough—even you as the painter would never have enough courage to say you stayed within it.

It’s a mess that made you look at it and feel nothing afterwards.

That painting of yours was a failure.

Finding no more strength or will to watch that ruined piece, you glanced down towards the untouched glass of champagne in your hand. The overwhelming sourness in your mouth only emphasized how you really were not in the mood for a party or a celebration tonight. You should have rejected that client’s invitation.

Though it was hard for you to remember every details given by your client at that moment, you could recall the theme given by them clearly. They were a part of a big business, saying they wished to give an appreciation for U-23 members who came from project Blue Lock, a soccer program sensation back in your high school years. And for that, you were requested to made a piece with “Celebration of Ego” as the theme.

Quiet frankly and obviously, you messed up.

Compared to the other seven paintings said client commissioned, each from a different artist, yours—a depiction of a lone figure outlined by a jumble of colors—stood out simply by how terrible it is. You felt like throwing up at that thought. As your eyes flew from each corner of the wall, looking at each painting with furrowing eyebrows, an unpleasant feeling crawled up and forced your attention back to your champagne. You really did not understand if this luckiness or unluckiness for you to stand in a place where you could observe each of them with clarity.

You sighed and chuckled under your breath, closing your eyes. “Ah, well, at least it’s finished.”

It was a job, after all, you noted. Just like it had been for quite some months already, it was simply a work to do. Nothing more.

Finally finding a way to settle down the gnawing heaviness inside of you, you lifted your head once again and scanned through the room. At the very least, you perhaps could find a distraction.

The party truly was lively in a very sophisticated way. The huge ballroom was dressed in various decorations and the guests’ clothing all stood out excellently under the gentle golden lighting. It was quite glamorous in a way that made you wonder what this party was for in the first place. You knew it had something to do with soccer, however beyond that you could barely think of anything.

However, before you could observe more to answer such a question, a heavy sigh was suddenly heard a few steps away from you.

You glanced to your right almost immediately. There, you found a figure of a man in a black suit, a shade of blue similar to his eyes decorating his dark hair. From the back of your mind, a voice of a newscast supplied you with a name—

Isagi Yoichi, the current rising star of Japan’s soccer.

Idly, your eyes fell on him. Of course, someone like him would be here in an event to celebrate something related to soccer. He could perhaps be one of whom the painting was for—if your memory of him being in Blue Lock back then was to be believed. Though you truly felt sorry if he really was one. Remembering how the TV sang praises for him, it only made the value of your work even lower.

With such thought in mind, you smiled spitefully. However, as you were about to turn away, Isagi Yoichi turned towards you.

Both of you blinked blankly at each other the moment your gaze met.

Awkwardly, the two of you stared at one another in silence, contrasting the ongoing bustling party around you. You slowly felt your face forming a smile you reserved for clients, Isagi Yoichi mimicked you the moment after. A smile more awkward and less empty compared to your practiced one plastered itself on his face as he greeted you, “Uh, good evening.”

He sounded ragged as if he just managed to escape a group of people who tried to pull and push him everywhere—which wouldn’t be surprising, considering how his reputation even reached someone like you who barely watched any soccer match in your life. In an act of sympathy for fellow party victims, you eased your smile into a friendlier one, “Good evening to you too.”

Realizing the shift in your expression, a stiff line in Isagi Yoichi’s expression and shoulders loosened. You nearly laughed at how transparent and young he seemed to you all of a sudden. True to your impression, Isagi certainly couldn’t hide how he felt obligated to have a conversation with you. “Uh,” he tried to begin.

You felt bad, really. But you faced enough situations to realize that even if you meant well by leaving him alone there and then, it would only make it even more awkward and stiff should the two of you meet again someday, no matter how small the chance was. As a compromise, you decided to just attempt a meaningless talk, “Enjoying the party?”

“Eh, uh,” Isagi Yoichi replied. However, while it seemed like words were still stuck in his throat, seeing your demeanor clearly eased him out even more. As he leaned against the wall, he answered, “Yeah—yes, I think.”

“No need to be so formal,” you said upon his correction. “I’m just a no-name wallflower in this party and I think we are around the same age too—”

Isagi Yoichi's eyes widened. So, quickly, you added, “—if the articles about you are correct, that is, Isagi Yoichi-san.”

Then, as if he just remembered the fact that he was famous, Isagi Yoichi responded, “Oh.”

“Did the party run you ragged?” you asked, taking a small step to get closer to him, just enough to speak to him in a lower voice while still keeping a considerable distance enough for four people between the two of you. “Even though I think I could guess your real answer.”

Dumbfounded, he stared at you for a second, before letting out a nervous cackle, more tired and sheepish than before. He rubbed a hand against the back of his neck, saying, “Is it that obvious?”

You gave him an answer in the form of a pitying grimace, which made him let out another long sigh. A hunch told you that someone would nag him for being too easy to read. Tough life of a public figure indeed. In an attempt to comfort him ever so slightly, “I would never know how you fared out there minutes ago. Perhaps it’s just now that it became obvious, Isagi Yoichi-san.”

“I really hope so,” he groaned lightly, before turning to you once again, remembering to ask something. “Ah, I’m sorry, and you are…?”

As he asked for your name, you soon realized that your attempts to be friendly were quite meaningless already. “Excuse me,” you said before introducing your full name to him, bowing slightly towards him, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Isagi Yoichi-san.”

“Pleasure to meet you too,” he greeted back with a bow similar to yours, putting his hands behind his back as he leaned back to the wall. “And, please, just Isagi is okay.”

“Isagi, then,” you agreed, before returning back to your previous position. “I’m sorry for interrupting your rest time though. If you mind, I wouldn’t mind too—”

“No, no. No need for that, really. I mean you were here before me. If anything it’s me who is interrupting you,” Isagi interrupted you swiftly. “…should I—?”

“Do take it easy,” you cut him off this time. “You interrupt nothing. Though I do wonder why one of the party’s main guests strayed himself here.”

“Well. About that…” he seemed to be about to continue, before choosinh to answer with an exhausted glance back directed at the rest of the crowd. “...I get a bit tired...?”

Sympathizing with him yet again, you offered a weak nod, “I understand that socializing during this kind of party could be tiring sometimes, especially when everyone seems to chase after you.”

At your comment, Isagi flinched slightly, as if you just brought forth a terrible recollection. However, he didn’t offer any further protest. With another heavy sigh, he slouched against the wall, “Yeah…”

“If it helps, no one really looks at this plain corner of the room,” you said, gesturing towards your calmer surroundings. “Everyone here is either too drunk, too tired, or too out of place. The second best place for you to take a breather.”

“Second?”

“After ‘going home’, of course. This place doesn't seem to have any garden or balcony after all.”

“Right.” Isagi gave you a low chuckle. Then, his gaze trained itself on you shakily, “…and you are here for the same reason?”

Recognizing his attempt to keep the conversation going, you hummed. “Not much. I’m too out of place, I think. I’m not exactly someone who is very involved with soccer and sport or anything at this party,” you offered as you remembered why you were here in the first place. “Or most of them, at least.”

“Ah… I see…?” Isagi responded. You could feel his curiosity. However perhaps out of courtesy, he refrained from asking more.

“Well, a nobody like me aside—I suppose I should congratulate you for something, shouldn’t I, Isagi? Though I have to admit I really am not updated with what this party is for,” you swiftly tried to change the topic.

Isagi looked at you in confusion, before finally catching what you meant, he replied with a chuckle, “Ah! It’s nothing really, there isn’t much going on yet, so congratulating me for now is a bit…”

“Is that so?” you raised your eyebrows at that for a moment. Offering him a teasing smile, you continued, “Oh, well, then let me congratulate you for every past achievement then, Mr. Ace Striker. Even a commoner with no knowledge of soccer has heard of you.”

Isagi grew bashful at that nickname, all while looking as if he was preening and proud of such title. Still fully looking at him, you tried not to seem too amused by his reaction. He laughed as he looked away, facing the view in front of him instead, “Ha ha—thanks.”

“My pleasure. But, really, I would have thought something was going on with all these,” you gestured towards the ballroom, “you know.”

At the mention of the lavish decorations around him, Isagi's eyes looked around him. “Yeah, it’s kind of… something, isn’t it? I mean…”

Isagi’s words drew to murmur as his eyes landed towards what laid somewhere in front of him, his attention seemed to be taken away by something. Out of curiosity, you followed his line of sight.

Only to have your own art at the end of it.

“Huh…” Isagi uttered under his breath, barely whispering. Quickly, his eyes moved to the other paintings, giving each seven of them a look of astonishment.

You struggled to hold back a frown from forming in your face. But, in the end, dissatisfaction still seeped through your words despite your act of indifference, “The paintings?”

Isagi blinked out of surprise at your tone. Promptly, he apologized with a wave of hand, “Ah—my bad! I lose focus—”

“It’s okay.” Despite your best effort to smile politely, you didn’t know what sort of face you were making, Lucikly, Isagi was still entranced by the paintings he just took notice of.

“…are they all in the same theme? The party organizer really put so much into the decor, huh…” he whispered, more to himself than to you.

You hummed mindlessly. Debating whether to stop the conversation or to continue it. Taking Isagi’s politeness since the start of this interaction into account, you settled to do the latter. “Did you just realize their presence now?”

Isagi nodded slightly. “Yeah, I didn’t really have the opportunity to look at them just now… they are pretty cool.”

“…well, those artists have to fulfill a minimum standard in some ways to get paid, so of course they do, I suppose,” you supplied, trying to keep your tone as neutral as possible. “Commissions do work like that after all.”

“You seem to be an expert in this kind of thing,” Isagi noted at the confidence in your comment.

“You could say that,” you said. Unconsciously, your eyes wandered towards your painting, once again staring at it with a gaze that was flat, full of distaste, and detached.

Isagi took notice of your stare and observed that painting once more. “What’s with that painting?” he inquired, wondering what sort of opinion you had of it to stare at it in particular.

“It is messy, clutered, and suffocating, in my opinion, technique and all-around wise,” you elaborated, all while swallowing a tired scoff. If people said what someone made reflects what was inside them in some ways, you wondered what that meant to you.

“…is that so?” Isagi asked back, sounding unsure. “I think it is nice though. All of them are nice.”

Your hands clenched themselves discreetly at that. The more distasteful, arrogant part of you sneered at Isagi’s comment—on how superficial it probably is. While the more pitiful one felt like it let out a laugh of someone who was undeserving to be part of such genuine, harmless praise.

You truly hoped that your expression did not twist into something unpleasant as this conversation went on. You truly did not wish to make this topic a conversation any longer than this.

“Art is subjective after all, in one way or another. I could understand why you say that.” You decided to end the subject there and diverged the conversation back to Isagi. “Do you like art, Isagi?” you questioned him.

“Kind of? I like it, I mean, but I never really get into it that much too,” Isagi said. After taking a moment to try to remember something, he added, “I think the last time I got a chance to do anything with it was during high school?”

What was the chance—for the only person you talked with tonight to be not only one of the party's main attractions but also someone who has at least a bit of interest in art?

“I could imagine that, with how focused you must be in soccer,” you mused. Somewhere from the back of your mind, you could imagine what he tried to imply. To have a passion so close to your heart and get the chance to have it as a big part of your life—it would be hard to put your interest in anything else afterward. Thinking of it, a curiosity sparked itself in you. “If you don’t mind me asking, since when have you been playing soccer, Ace Striker?”

“You will really keep calling me that, huh?” a lopsided smile placed itself on Isagi’s face.

“You look happy with it. So why not?” you told him lightly, before quickly adding with a polite tone. “Ah, but if I’m too nosy—”

“Nah, really, take it easy. It’s nothing like that,” Isagi shrugged off, visibly more relaxed. “I played soccer since I was around four, actually.”

“That’s early,” you said, not shocked at all by his answer.

“I guess? I know some people who started even earlier though.” He ended with a short laugh. Isagi then looked up, as if he was in thought, remembering many things that only he fully understood. “But it really has been a long time since then, huh?”

Watching your companion’s profile closely, you recognized the determined strength he wore. It was easy to read and feel despite the fact you were not privy to his tale. If anything, the fact that his passion for it could be felt by a stranger like you only served as a testament to how deep it is.

“…you must have loved it so much, huh, soccer?” you asked him quietly. A mix of envy and wonder etching itself within your heart.

Isagi’s grin grew wider, slowly turning into something more confident, filled with a sense of nostalgia and pride in them. In every word he spoke, there was no shred of doubt in them. “I do.”

Hearing such answer spoken so honestly and firmly, you found yourself watching him silently.

In Isagi’s eyes shined deep passion and tenacity. It was as strong as it was youthful in a sense. It was raw and strong that it felt like it was larger than the man himself in many ways. It was captivating. Yet, at the same time, it made a heavy emptiness panged somewhere within the cavity of your chest.

Were you like that, somewhere at some long ago, towards your craft? Where you put every single part of your heart and mind into it. Where you were proud of what you do and do it again and again and again and still somehow have fun with it.

It was supposed to feel like that, wasn’t it?

It was supposed to be burning, easy, and light, wasn’t it? It wasn’t supposed to be heavy and choking as how it was for you since who knows when. It really was something else to watch it in someone else—it was wonderfully enviable yet astonishing at the same time.

Feeling such ugly emotions crawling up, you pushed it down towards the deepest pit of your stomach. You tried to offer an understanding, soft smile towards Isagi, “I see. Good for you, Isagi.”

“Yeah,” Isagi replied to you with eyes still staring far ahead. Then, he returned his focus towards you again, a grin plastered on his profile, “Thanks!”

Seeing something as bright and genuine as that, you didn’t bother to try to stop yourself from replying Isagi with one as well, albeit more reserved and dimmer than his.

Feeling the conversation ending, you took a chance to check your phone. The numbers displayed 23.41 the moment your screen lit up. Perhaps it was an appropriate time for you to exit, even if Isagi Yoichi’s presence wasn’t a bad thing in itself. Straightening up your posture, you failed to realize Isagi who was opening his mouth to resume your conversation once again.

“What about—” Isagi stopped, interrupted by a ringtone and a vibration from his phone. Taking it out, Isagi’s face soon fell ever so slightly, “—ah. Seems like I have to go back soon…”

Seeing that both his and your time were up, you politely nod at him. “What a timing, me too. It appears that we both have to cut this talk short. It was a nice talk, Isagi,” you excused yourself, pushing yourself off and emptying your champagne in one go. With an empty glass in hand, you waved him a good bye. “I wish you a better time at the party. See you.”

“Ah—yes, see you,” Isagi replied, catching himself before hurriedly adding a left behind afterthought. “Good talk.”

“Oh, also—” as you had taken steps away from him, you stopped, turning towards him, smiling for one last time as you decided to give him a little hint about yourself, to make it equal, “—I hope you enjoy all of the eight commissioned paintings. ‘Celebration of Ego’ is a theme tailored for Blue Lock, after all.”

With that one last message to him, you walked away, mingling with the crowd without waiting for his reply. Blankly, Isagi Yoichi could only stare wordlessly at your form as it slowly went out of his sight. His eyes then wandered once again towards the painting the two of you had talked about in particular.

“…how…is she…?” Yoichi muttered under his breath, stunned for a few seconds. It took a few blinks and once again, he stared at the painting the two of you had been talking about. A part of him felt a growing hunch from his gut.

That painting was indeed suffocating in a way, as you had commented before. However, undeniably, it was beautifully eye-catching. And while Yoichi admittedly is no expert in art, he would still call it good. He likes how the swirl of colors and gray outlined a figure who stood triumphantly in the center of the painting. The moment someone knew of the theme, it wasn’t hard to grasp its meaning. It also felt like there was more meaning to it that common people in art like him couldn’t grasp.

All in all, despite how critical your comments had been towards that painting’s execution and techniques, Yoichi still could boldly say that it is a sincere, heartfelt painting.

Still and alone, Isagi Yoichi stood in that corner. Mulling over a wandering curiosity left by your encounter. Then, his phone rang once again and Yoichi soon walked away from the corner he had just shared with you. As he walked away, he spared one last glance towards the colorful painting.

Maybe, he would check if it truly was yours later.

series masterlist. ; next.

a.n.: while outlining all the five chapters, i had fun. i hope you, the one who read this, also had fun reading it too, even for a moment. and for everyone who says they want to read this, thank you and i hope it was enjoyable at the very least. writing this with also isagi's pov in mind is an interesting experience tho, it's like doing it twice but only typing down one. unreliable narator is a fun thing to play with. also could you see where my effort goes? one of them is taking that one canon fact isagi likes art and p.e. then going to town with it. lastly, if i open taglist does anyone want in...?

#bllk #bllk imagines #blue lock #bllk x reader #bluelock x reader #blue lock fluff #blue lock x reader #bllk fluff #blue lock scenarios #isagi yoichi #blue lock imagines #bllk isagi #blue lock isagi #isagi x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi fluff #im excited and scared for this for some reason #this thing got a 7k outline written out in two days

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fickleminder · 5 months

Text

seven supervillains and one (1) normie

You move in with seven normal, law-abiding housemates.

Here’s my piece for @obeymezine! Leftover sales are live till Dec 15th, so do consider supporting us since all proceeds will be going to charity :)

Lucifer looks even more handsome in person.

You find yourself paying more attention to him and the deep timbre of his voice than the tour of Serenity Manor and its rules. Only a firm call of your name snaps you back to the present.

“This will be your room,” he says, opening one last door for you to step through. It’s decently furnished with all the basic necessities and has an en suite to boot. How generous. “Is this to your satisfaction?”

“Oh absolutely, everything looks great!” You wheel your luggage into a corner and set your backpack down on the large study table. “I still can’t believe I got matched with you guys for the boarding program. Thank you so much for having me!”

“The pleasure is ours.” Lucifer gives you a polite nod. “Make yourself at home, and I will introduce you to my brothers tomorrow. We hope you’ll enjoy your stay here with us.”

“Surveillance systems are online,” Levi reports as all eyes watch you unpack on the screen. “Ugh, bugging rooms is so old school. It’s only the first day, I doubt there’ll be any suspicious activity.”

“And it better stay that way.” Satan’s already profiling you from your posters on the walls, your stuffed sheep on the bed, your clothes in the closet. No red flags yet, as far as he can discern.

“Pfft, what can one exchange student do to us?” Mammon scoffs. Your background check was clean, your documents checked out. In every practical sense, you were an ordinary postgraduate taking courses at the local university for a year. “Loosen up guys!”

Lucifer shoots him a glare indicating he has no intention of doing so. “No funny business. It’s unfortunate that we have to go undercover in our own home, but Elysium’s agents are on to us. We need to mask our activities and blend in, and we have no choice but to wait for them to leave. Until then, continue to follow Prince’s orders, but keep things low-key. Do I make myself clear?”

“—massive destruction of property at Settler’s factory premises. Witnesses say it was Gluttony in another one of his rampages, and this marks the fourth attack in…”

You glance towards a face-palming Lucifer at the breakfast table. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, perfectly fine.” He smiles through gritted teeth and switches off the TV, silencing the news.

You have a few days before classes officially start, so you decide to take some time familiarizing yourself with the town. Lucifer has graciously agreed to escort you, along with one of his brothers.

“And that’s about it, really. Is there anywhere else you wanna go?” Belphie asks after they’ve given you a cursory tour. You mention wanting to return to the confectionery shop you passed by a while back, and he smirks. “Sure, but if you’re looking for Settler products, they might not have much stock.”

“That’s alright! They used to be one of my favorite brands you know, but then I found out they engaged in a lot of questionable business practices. It’s a shame really, I liked their stuff.”

Lucifer feels his work phone vibrating in his pocket all of a sudden and curses mentally. What could Barbatos possibly want at this moment? “Apologies, I… have to use the washroom,” he excuses himself in a hurry, discreetly signaling Belphie to cover for him before running off.

Almost half an hour passes with no Lucifer in sight.

“He’s been gone for a while. Should we go and check up on him?” You ask worriedly.

“Nah, it’s fine.” Belphie sniggers. “He usually takes really long shits anyway. Let’s just go. He’ll catch up eventually.”

Lucifer meets you back in the manor at the end of the day, and you miss the dirty look he sends Belphie behind your back after you recommend some home remedies for treating diarrhea.

“Satan, I need some advice!” The blond follows your voice to the kitchen and freezes when he sees you holding his collection of hunting knives. For gutting people, not cutting meat. “I’m making lunch. Which of these are for fruits and vegetables?”

This is why Lucifer always nags us about picking up our toys, Satan realizes belatedly. Fuck, he probably left them out on the couch or something. At least he’d remembered to clean off the blood first. “Those aren’t for cooking. They’re for, uh, self-defense.” Idiot, is that the best you could come up with? There’s no way it’ll—

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have assumed.” You gasp and quickly return the knives to him. “One of my old roommates used to sleep with a dagger under their pillow, though I personally prefer to keep a baseball bat next to my bed. Besides, didn’t some rich politician get murdered in his own house just recently? The manor seems secure and you guys have Cerberus, but better safe than sorry I guess.”

Satan is still reeling from your sheer obliviousness, but he knows better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. “I completely agree,” he says with a poker face.

Mammon’s Lexura is a sight to behold, but you’re more interested in how fast she can go.

“Oi, I know you’re worried about your friend but keep your oily fingers to yourself, you hear?” He grumbles, opening the garage door for you and Beel to enter. “Which mall was it again?”

“The one with Bullseye,” you reply distractedly, furiously tapping away on your phone. “I can’t believe she and her girlfriend got harassed in public. You only read stories about this happening to other people online. What kind of fucked up organization calls themselves a charity and— Shit!”

You trip on something and drop your phone. It bounces and skids under Mammon’s car, but Beel instinctively steps forward before you can even react. With one arm, he tilts the vehicle just enough for you to duck under and retrieve it.

“Wow, thanks so much Beel!” You dust your phone off and check for cracks on the screen while Mammon sweats buckets behind you. “You gotta share your workout routine with me sometime. Hey, do you mind coming along and being our muscle for the day?”

“Okay.” Beel agrees easily, and you pump your fists.

“—worth millions. The curator declined to comment…”

“This is crazy, I was there just last week!” You exclaim while chewing on your dinner. “The museum had lots of cool stuff on display. Mostly illegally imported, if you catch my drift, but not anymore huh?”

Asmo winks at you. “What a shame. You could have seen Lust in action first-hand.”

“Aren’t heists supposed to be discreet? He is pretty good-looking though, I’ll give him that.”

“Is he prettier than me?” The entire table goes deathly silent as you squint between Asmo’s fluttering eyelashes and the masked supervillain on the TV screen. “Don’t you think he’d look better with a boob window?”

“…Nah, he doesn’t have the tiddies to pull it off.” Your gaze unconsciously flickers to Beel’s chest. “Plus the butts don’t match. Yours is flatter.”

Asmo’s jaw drops in mock outrage. “Honey, have you been checking me out? How very scandalous of you~”

“Enough, please.” Lucifer sighs amidst your spluttering.

“That’s it. We’re screwed, our cover is blown. I knew this was a bad idea…”

“Let’s just resort to good ol’ fashioned murder and then frame it as a runaway case. No one will ever know!”

“This manor is a fortress located in the safest part of town. What the fuck do you think people will presume there is to run from?”

“There were a couple of close calls, but I think we’re still in the clear.” Beel recalls you quoting your statistics professor after an extended period of time where one of them would come home late the night before a major news event: correlation does not imply causation.

“Need I remind all of you, it was our proposal to join the boarding program as a front. Prince approved it himself, and I won’t allow us to back out now.”

“Shut up, Lucifer. Don’t you have any politicians to assassinate?” Belphie sneers.

“We will see this through.” Lucifer refuses to budge, ever the prideful bastard. “We’re still safe, but keep your guards up. Understood?”

The kitchen is pitch black this time of night, but Levi’s had years to figure out a way around without alerting anyone he’s back.

“I hate on-site jobs,” he grumbles to himself. “What kind of company doesn’t have remote access to their servers nowadays? Let’s see how they like it when people steal and sell their private data instead, muahahaha— Eek!”

“Hmm? Levi?” You stifle a yawn and shuffle towards the rack of cups. “Why’re you up at this hour?”

Levi is still blinking away the spots in his vision from the sudden onslaught of light when you flipped the switch. He pales as you stare at his costume and equipment on the counter. “Wait, it’s not what it looks like—”

“Late con, huh? Must have been fun. You were still in character there. Heheh.” You pour yourself a glass of water. “Nice cosplay by the way. G’night.”

“G-goodnight!” Levi waits to hear the sound of your door closing before wheezing hysterically in relief.

You sigh blissfully under the weight of four cats lounging on various parts of your body. “I’ll admit I had my doubts at first, but this is exactly what I needed. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Satan takes a long sip of his tea while petting the snoozing tabby on his lap. He looks like one of those criminal masterminds in the movies. “Visiting cat shelters is the best way to unwind after a long week. And don’t worry, I have it on good authority that this one actually takes proper care of our furry friends.”

“That’s reassuring to hear! I’ll never understand why anyone would want to hurt these precious babies.” A little calico wanders near your face and boops your nose with its toe beans. “If only all shelters could be as noble as this one. Remind me to stop by the donation box before we leave!”

“Gladly. Speaking of donations, remember that charity group that messed with your friends? I heard someone stole every last penny from their funds and now they’re on the verge of insolvency. Truly, this is karma at work.”

“Schadenfreude!” You cheer before the two of you clink cups and drink.

“Hey, you’ve been in there for a while now. Do you need— Oh.”

“Belphie!” You grin at him sheepishly and fidget with your rubber gloves. “I’m sorry, I’m really bad at this. My old dorm had a janitor, so I’ve never been assigned toilet duty before…”

“No wonder. You’d be dead in minutes if you kept this up,” Belphie snaps, quickly moving the unopened bottle of bleach away from you. “Mixing cleaning products is a sure-fire way to poison yourself.”

You wince at his harsh tone, and Belphie’s expression softens in sympathy.

“Here, I’ll teach you.” And then he proceeds to detail exactly what chemicals are in each product, which combinations produce different kinds of fumes with varying levels of toxicity, how to make odorless gasses that can kill a man in seconds—

“Why’d you stop?” You protest when Belphie abruptly cuts himself off. He’s probably feeling embarrassed about oversharing. “This is super informational. I’d be dead without you!”

“…Right.” He blinks, nonplussed. “You’re welcome, or whatever. Just stay away from the bleach, okay?”

Mammon shuffles the deck with deft hands and explains the rules. “You play as an Elysium agent of your choice, and your goal is to defeat the mob boss terrorizing the city: Jesús Iglesias Ken. The game can be competitive or cooperative depending on which rules we follow, but I say we do competitive mode and bet on the winner!”

“Ugh, shaddup Mammon!” Levi groans while you set up the board and pieces.

“Now, for the characters! We have Kid, a tiny chihuahua of an agent who has lots of good buffs from the sweets he eats. Director, who can move other players during his turn; but don’t get fooled by his smile. He can be super scary sometimes! Spear, man that guy packs a punch. He’s a damage dealer with shitty taste buds.”

Too busy paying attention to Mammon, you don’t see the way Levi makes throat-slitting gestures and mouths SHUT UP SHUT UP STUPIDMAMMON—

“There are also NPCs like Sorcerer, who can help or hinder you depending on your actions, shady bastard. And Aristocrat, who’s on the villain’s side and a total bootlicker, but he gives valuable intel for the right price.”

“How do you know all of this? I don’t see it in the rule book.” You scan the character description section intently. “Don’t tell me… You’re secretly a fan!”

Mammon chokes, finally catching on to Levi’s signals. Both of them exchange wide-eyed looks before forcibly grinning at you. “Yeah, totally, I’m a fan! Hahaha…”

“What a nerd, right?” Levi laughs nervously. “Anyway, this game is more fun with more players, so let’s just play something else for now, okay? Okay.”

“I’ve got reports that Elysium’s agents are finally moving out. We should be cleared to resume normal operations soon.”

“Our plan worked like a charm! Ooh, we’re so close~”

“Good job, everyone.” Lucifer nods with a satisfied smile. “This will all be over shortly. And just in time too. A year’s almost up.”

Everyone falls silent as their thoughts drift to you. It’ll be quiet without you around; you may not have been the sharpest tool in the shed, but you were always kind and genuine with all of them. It goes without saying that they’ll definitely miss you once you’re gone.

“We should stay in touch,” Mammon proposes suddenly, looking none of his brothers in the eye. “Y’know, to keep tabs and make sure we weren’t compromised or anything. See things through to the end and all that.”

For once, nobody objects to Mammon’s idea. “Indeed,” Lucifer murmurs in approval.

“I’ll be on campus studying for my ethics finals. See you all at dinner!”

You set up camp at your favorite corner: a little nook in the section of the library that’s perpetually empty. Just as you make yourself comfortable and open your laptop, someone pings you with an encrypted message.

Grinning to yourself, you easily bypass Levi’s embedded spyware and open up a private channel to take the call. “Barb, it’s so good to hear from you!”

“Good afternoon.” A polished voice greets you from the speakers, and you quickly plug in your headphones to prevent eavesdropping. “Apologies for the disturbance, but I have the data you requested.”

“Thanks Barbatos. You really are the best AI I’ve ever created!”

“I am the only AI you’ve ever created, but the sentiment is acknowledged. Did your side project go well?”

“Always so humble, haha! And yes, it went wonderfully! It’s so good to finally meet the brothers face-to-face. They’re such a lively bunch!”

“I concur. Back to business: the up-and-coming cosmetics company you asked me to look into? It turns out your hunch was right; I’ve found evidence that they rely heavily on animal testing for their products.”

“A job for Belphie then. He’ll know how to put those chemicals to better use.”

“Of course. On a separate note, another political party has been pushing for…”

#writing #obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me barbatos #zine

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bloatedandalone04 · 4 months

Text

Wrapped Around Your Finger - Part 0.6

Series Masterlist | Original Fic

➪in which a few calls get missed as the days go on and anakin gets a taste of what the rockstar lifestyle is truly like while you become closer to your classmate.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 5k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

“Fuck, they were loud tonight,” Vinny muttered as he fell onto the couch in the tour bus. Clara was next to him, congratulating him on another great show as she pressed multiple kisses to his cheek.

The sight was a bit too much and Anakin had to look away as he was reminded of the way you were always all over him after a show. He pulled out his phone, glancing over at the couple. “They were amazing,” he corrected Vinny as he clicked on your contact. It was nearing one AM in Sweden, so it should be around twelve AM for you, and he hoped that you were still awake.

The show went on a bit longer tonight, and his plans of calling you after had been greatly affected by it. He went to click the call button when he saw the few texts you had left him.

8:23 PM

Princess: Good luck, baby! You’ll do amazing, like always. Wish I was there!

11:07 PM

Princess: Call me when it’s over? I miss you

12:47 AM

Princess: I tried staying up, but I start class in less than seven hours, so we’ll just talk tomorrow. I love you, Ani. I hope you had a great show! Goodnight.

He cursed under his breath as he made his way to his bunk. You had sent that last text not too long ago, but you were probably just falling asleep and he didn’t want to disturb you. You needed to get as much rest as possible before you began the program, and he didn’t want to get in the way of that.

Guilt filled his body as he typed out a quick text, knowing it wouldn’t wake you up since you never slept with your ringer on.

Goodnight, princess. I love you.

He plugged his phone in after that as Vinny and Clara passed him on their way to the back of the bus. Anakin groaned quietly and had to race Theo to the bathroom so he wouldn’t be stuck hearing them go at it.

Theo flipped him off as he grabbed his headphones from off his bunk and moved to lay on the couch. Anakin laughed as he shut the door and then looked at himself in the mirror. His skin was a bit sweaty and his eyes held dark patches under them.

He wasn’t kidding when he told you he had no idea how he was going to be able to sleep without you. After doing it for close to five years he had grown so used to having you next to him, he physically wasn’t able to sleep without you for too long. He had gotten maybe seventeen full hours of sleep in total since he left you behind in London, and it was beginning to show in his physical appearance.

Anakin really wanted to talk to you before he went to bed and he wanted to wish you luck on your first day of class. He had this whole hype speech somewhat planned out in his head, but he didn’t get the chance to say it to you.

He really hoped he could call you before you head off to school tomorrow as he felt like a bit of a bad boyfriend at the moment. You always supported him, always answered him and never missed a text. It really fucking sucked that he couldn’t do the same for you.

Luckily, Anakin wasn’t left feeling like a total asshole the next morning when he woke up from his three hour sleep and called you at around six. “Hi, Ani,” your sweet voice greeted him and he could tell you didn’t get too much sleep either. He knew you were nervous for this program, and he would do anything to be with you right now so he could wish you good luck in person.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he murmured, getting up from his bunk and quickly making his way to the door. He unlocks it and quietly steps off the bus that was parked next to a rest stop. “I’m sorry I couldn’t call you last night. I wanted to, but the show went late and I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“That’s alright,” you say and he could hear you fumbling around with something in the background. “I figured you and the guys got caught up with something. It was a good show?”

Anakin leaned against the side of the bus, his eyes scanning the still dark surroundings. He would be two hours ahead of you soon, when he reached Finland, and he knew it would become harder to call you because of your chaotic schedules. “It was amazing,” he repeated his words from the prior night as he crossed his arm, gripping his bicep of the opposite one.

“I’m not surprised,” you teased. “You’re up early. I thought I’d get a call from you after my class is over later.”

“I wanted to be the first to wish you luck,” he said, hoping you wouldn’t bring up the topic of his awful sleep schedule.

You hummed. “Your effort was in vain, I’m afraid,” you laughed and the sound had him smiling. “Evan texted me a few seconds ago wishing the same thing.”

That had his smiling fading a bit. “Oh,”

You laughed again, a silence falling over the two of you afterwards.

Fuck, why did this suddenly feel awkward now? Why did he suddenly feel annoyed that he wasn’t the first person to wish you luck today? Why did he already dislike your new friend without even meeting the guy?

The silence didn’t last long, thankfully, but you did the exact thing he didn’t want you to do. “You sound tired, Ani,” your voice was soft, laced with worry and now he felt worse.

He didn’t want you worrying about him when you should be focused on your class that was scheduled in thirty minutes from now. “I’m fine, princess,” he brushed off your words, trying to hide how tired he sounded by clearing his throat afterwards.

Of course you didn’t let him off easy. “Have you been getting enough sleep?”

“Yes, mom,” he laughed. “It’s just hard to sleep without you, but I already knew that it would be. I’ll get more sleep later today. We still have a fifteen hour drive ahead of us and then another ten after that until we need to start soundcheck.”

You were quiet for a few seconds before you mumbled, “I don’t want you pushing yourself too hard, Ani. You need to sleep more, you’re on stage almost every night, baby,”

Anakin sighed as he leaned his head back against the bus. “Don’t worry about me, alright? I’m fine, okay? I promise,” he tried to reassure you, but it was hard to do that when he was miles and miles away from you. He needed to change the subject, quickly. “I miss you.”

That seemed to do the trick. “I miss you, too,” you say back, your tone much happier now. “I gotta go soon, but we’ll talk later?”

“Of course,” was that even a question?

“Okay. Thank you for calling me, and for the luck,” you mumble. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he said and waited for you to hang up before he dropped his hand back down to his side.

He stayed outside until the sun came up and he was fully awake with no chance of him going back to sleep for at least a few hours, knowing his sleep schedule was a lost cause without you here.

“Think of something or someone that makes you happy. It could be anything or anyone, but whatever or whoever it is has to have made some sort of impact on your life,” Kenneth Madsen, your instructor, ordered as he paced around the front of the room. “Could be a lover, a friend, a stranger, it could be your own bed. Whatever you choose, make sure it has a story behind it. Thank you all for a great first day, and I look forward to reading your pieces during tomorrow’s class. Remember to get a start on your short stories so they’re ready by the end of the program.”

That wasn’t so bad. The assignment is easy, too.

You close your books, making a mental note to refine your rushed scribbles later when you begin writing the assignment. As you stand up, you check your phone and see that it was nearing two PM. You could call Anakin as soon as you got back to your dorm and possibly talk to him for a lot longer than before, and the thought had you standing up quickly.

“Hey,” a somewhat familiar voice says, making you look up as you grab your book. Evan stood next to your chair, his dark brown hair covering his forehead and making his green eyes stand out a bit. A smile danced on his lips as he watched you shove your things into your bag.

“Hi,” you say, smiling back at him.

He moved out of the way, gesturing for you to walk ahead of him as he asked, “Did you have a good first day?”

“I did,” you answer as you and he walk side by side towards the doors. “I’m happy the instructor isn’t a total ass since he missed orientation day. He seems cool,”

“He is pretty cool. The assignment isn’t too bad, either,” Evan agreed, his accent slurring a few of the words, but you still understood him.

You nod, smiling at him again when he opens the door for you. “I thought the same thing,” you say as you and he step out onto the campus grounds. “When are you planning on working on it?”

“I was actually going to ask you if you wanted to work on ours together,” he offered, adjusting the strap of his bag as he looked down at you. “And after you can read mine and I can read yours.”

You pause. “Right now?”

He stopped walking as well. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Why? Are you busy?”

You chew on your lip as you look down at your phone, and at your lock screen. It was a picture of you and Anakin that was taken back during the first tour, and the sight of it had your heart aching a bit. “I was going to call Anakin once I got home,” you trail off, looking back up at Evan.

He nodded again. “Right, your boyfriend. Yeah, this distance thing must be pretty hard for both of you, huh? I can’t even imagine how tough it’d be to date someone who is literally on tour right now,” he grinned and started to walk away. “No worries, we’ll catch up later.”

Evan was so nice and now you’re starting to feel guilty for essentially blowing him off. “Wait, Evan,” you call after him, watching as he turns back around. “I can call him later, if your offer still stands.”

He laughed as he walked back over to you. “You mean the offer I gave you three seconds ago? Yes, it still stands,” he jokes and you laugh, too. “Are you sure you don’t want to go home and call him now?”

You pocket your phone as you shake your head. “He’s probably busy, or sleeping. He told me he was going to try to catch up on his sleep, so if that’s the case I don’t want to wake him,” you say as you walk next to him. “And I want to hang out with you.”

Evan looked away with a smile, bumping your arm gently with his elbow. “Well, in that case,” he glanced down at you as you neared the coffee shop you visited with him not too long ago. “Coffee?”

You find yourself agreeing and an hour later you are sitting at a bench on campus as you and Evan go over possible topics for the assignment. “What are you going to write about?” He asked as he wrote down another option for himself. “Or who?”

Lifting a brow, you give him a teasing smile as you answer. “Anakin, of course,”

Evan shakes his head, a smile dancing on his own lips as he looks up at you. “Of course,” he repeats your words. “Why did I even bother asking?”

“Beats me,” you shrug as you sip on your drink, nearly dropping it as you feel your phone begin to vibrate in your bag. You pull it out as Evan mumbles something under his breath, your smile widening as you hold up your phone. “Speak of the devil and he shall appear.”

Evan squints at the screen, shaking his head again with a grin. “You gonna answer that?”

You look at it, too, before clicking the power button and setting it aside. “No, I’ll call him later,” you say, glancing up at Evan when he remains silent. “What?”

“You can call him back now, if you want,” he said in a soft voice. “I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.”

Shaking your head, you flip open your book. “It’s fine. He’ll understand that I can’t talk right now because of a school thing,”

Evan nods and goes back to writing down random topics, but you were quickly beginning to regret not picking up Anakin’s call, but you also didn’t want to go back on your own words.

He’d understand, anyway. He had no reason not to.

Ani: Sorry, thought your class would be over by now. Call me when you can. Miss you.

You smile and turn your phone around so the screen is facing the surface of the table, knowing he wouldn’t be upset with you.

Anakin let out a groan of frustration as he tore out another page in his notebook. Helena had just finished her weekly lecture about needing to get more music out for the fans, and he was slowly starting to lose his mind.

He discovered that trying to write a song without you around was about as easy as it was to sleep without having you next to him. It was about fucking impossible.

He leaned back in the chair at the table of the tour bus, his hands reaching up to pull at his messy hair. Vinny was across from him and Theo was on the couch, both guys wearing weary looks at the state of their lead songwriter.

“You alright, man?” Vinny asked, crossing out his own stupid lyrics that he knew Anakin would never sing.

“Yeah,” he huffed, looking over at Vinny with a blank expression. “I’m great.”

Theo shook his head as he went back to writing down notes of the beat he was working on, tuning the two out as he got back into his own head.

“Maybe you should call Y/n,” Vinny suggested, flipping the page and starting over. “Might help inspire you.”

Anakin knew that just hearing your voice wouldn’t be enough for him to think of new lyrics, but he pulled out his phone anyway. He also just wanted to talk to you again. The brief call he shared with you this morning was just that, brief, and he missed you like crazy.

He may or may not also want to be the first person to ask you about how your first day went, since he wasn’t the first to wish you luck. Evan was.

He clicked on your contact and brought his phone up to his ear, looking over the weak attempts he had written in his book. He read over each one until he heard the sound of the call disconnecting and he felt immediately on alert.

Pulling his phone away, he looked at the screen and saw that you hadn’t missed his call, but ignored it. You actually clicked ignore call. What the fuck.

“Huh,” he said aloud as he stared at the screen until it turned black. He looked up at Vinny, who was already staring at him. “She ignored me.”

Vinny furrowed his brows. “Huh,” he echoed, giving him a reassuring wave of his hand afterwards. “She’s probably busy or still in school or something.”

Anakin wanted to say that your class should’ve ended an hour ago, but didn’t want to come off as pathetic for knowing your schedule. “Probably,” he agreed, setting his phone aside after sending you a quick text.

After Anakin finishes writing down a few dumb lines, Clara enters the bus with shopping bags that she promptly throws onto the couch next to Theo before she wraps her arms around Vinny. “Happy six months!” She says excitedly, looking at Anakin across the table. “I know it’s not five years like a certain someone over there will be celebrating soon, but fuck it, we’re celebrating.”

Vinny grins up at her and kisses her quickly. “Six months, huh? What’d you have in mind for us to do to celebrate?”

She hugged him a bit tighter from behind, kissing his cheek multiple times before saying, “Since we’ll be in Finland for a few days, maybe we can find a cute hotel? Nothing too fancy, just something we can have a little more privacy in,” she whispered the last part but Anakin still heard her and he was instantly reminded of the time last tour when he and you stayed in a hotel for one night and he ravished you as soon as you stepped through the door.

Clara added something about a nice restaurant she had heard of as Anakin grabbed his phone again and opened the Instagram app, his brows furrowing at the icon that showed you posted something to your story. Without thinking much, he clicked on it and felt his face heat up at the smiling face of, who is this, Evan? You had tagged him and set your location to the University of Dun-Walsh, and he saw that you had posted it ten minutes ago.

So you weren’t in class, and you had your phone with you, and you still hadn’t answered his text.

Anakin was not one of those obsessed and crazy boyfriends…well, maybe he was a bit obsessed with you, but he’s always been that way - still, he felt a bit annoyed at the fact that you had ignored both his call and his text because you are busy with Evan, but clearly not busy enough to not be able to post him on your story.

He was not one of those crazy boyfriends who gets mad when his girlfriend is hanging out with another guy, but he was a bit frustrated.

Scoffing, he scrolls through the app for a bit before getting a notification that Liz had messaged him through DM.

elizaphotography: hey :) i would’ve texted you but i don’t have your number. hint hint. anyway, we’ll be here for a few days so i was wondering if you were wanting to get out of that bus and have a night on the town with me. i need a night away from screaming fans and taking pictures and i heard about this club that is supposedly great. the guys are invited, too.

After reading that, his mood had lifted a bit and he glanced up at the guys. “Hey, Liz is asking if we want to go to a club tonight,” he said, getting the interest of Vinny and Theo, as well as Clara. “Said she needs a night out.”

“I do, too,” Theo mumbled as he set his guitar aside and tossed his book away. “I’m in.”

Vinny tore his eyes away from Theo and agreed as well, wrapping his arm around his girlfriend’s waist. “Me too,”

“Me three,” Clara added with a small smile.

Anakin nodded, looking back down at his phone as he typed a reply.

We’re so down, we all need a night off, too.

He sent it then stared at his screen for a few seconds, hesitating only a bit before he typed out his phone number and sent it to her as well.

“It doesn’t matter how young we were, or how young we still are, he has my entire heart and not a day goes by where I don’t think of him. We shouldn’t have gotten together, shouldn’t have even talked to each other as we had no reason to. He was the cool guy in band class who had no idea just how talented he truly was, and I was the nerd who would rather stay late after class and attend book club rather than go straight home,” you read the words you had typed not even half an hour ago, your nerves getting the best of you and making you stutter a bit. “But we did anyway. And I was his from that first second we spoke.”

You wait a few seconds before glancing up at Evan, who had an unreadable expression on his face. His eyes flickered all over your features as he remained silent, making you feel even more nervous.

Closing your laptop, you stand up quickly. “I know, it’s bad,”

Before you could run away, his hand reaches out and wraps around your wrist. “Damn, Y/n,” he huffed, making you raise a brow as you sat back down. Once he was sure you wouldn’t get up and run off, he released your hand and sat back in his chair, an exasperated sigh leaving his mouth. “I might as well just drop out now.”

Your eyes widened a bit as a surprised laugh escaped you, settling back on your own chair. “What are you talking about?”

Evan gives you a pointed look. “That was amazing,” he said, making heat immediately rush to your face. “I don’t know why you doubt yourself, you’re an amazing writer. At the end, when Kenneth gets to pick a short story to send to his team, there’s no way he won’t pick yours.”

You blush more and shake your head, breaking eye contact with him. “That’s still three months away,” you point out. “That’s a long time, and I haven’t even decided on what I’m going to write about.”

Evan rolled his eyes as he shut his laptop and shoved it into his bag. “Just take the compliment, Y/n,” he laughed and stood up. “I’m serious, your piece is good. Kenneth will love it.”

You look up at him, a grateful smile on your lips. “Thank you,”

He smiled back as he grabbed his phone. “It’s getting late,” he noted as he pocketed it. “Can I walk you home?”

You nod and pack away your things before standing up and walking across campus side by side with Evan. “Thank you for today, it was fun,” you say as you stand outside your dorm. “I’m really glad to have you here with me. It’s not so lonely because of you.”

Evan grins at you, reaching one arm out and hugging you once you stepped into his embrace. “The feeling is mutual,” he says and pulls away. “Promise.”

You shake your head as you grab your keys. “See you tomorrow?”

He nods. “If I can get my assignment done in the next three hours,” he joked and walked away.

You watch him for a few seconds before entering your room, tossing your bag onto your bed and grabbing your phone. “Shit,” you mumble when you realize that you never actually got back to Anakin.

Bailey, your roommate, walks in just as you raise your phone to your ear, and she gives you a smile as she quietly shuts the door behind her. “Hey,” she mouths, dropping her own bag onto her bed.

“Hi,” you say back as you listen to the phone ring a few times before it connected.

“Princess,” came Anakin’s voice. It was slurred a bit and you could hear loud music in the back, making your brows lift slightly. “What’s up?”

“Hi, Ani,” you say, unsure if he could even hear you. “I’m sorry I missed your call earlier, I got held up with something…are you at a party right now?”

There was a beat or two of just music before he answered. “A club, actually,”

“Oh,”

“Yeah,” and then he went quiet again for a few seconds. “Don’t worry about it, it’s fine.”

You nod even though he couldn’t see you, and you could feel Bailey’s gaze on you. “Okay, well, I feel bad about it, so I just wanted to call and see what you were up to,”

“Don’t feel bad,” he brushed you off, making your face fall a bit at how dismissive he sounded. “I gotta go, baby, I can barely hear you. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” you agree, giving your roommate a reassuring smile when you notice her look of concern. “I love you.”

“You too,” he said and then the call ended.

Your heart skipped a beat at how quick that call was, and you dropped your hand with a quiet scoff. Part of you wished he left the club and stood outside of it to talk to you for a few more minutes, but he already sounded drunk. He must’ve been there for a while now, but you still felt a little hurt that he ended it so soon.

“You okay?” Bailey asked as she grabbed her bin for the shower.

While you didn’t know her very well, she seemed nice enough. You were sure you and her would become a lot closer the longer you roomed together, but for now you didn’t feel the need to tell her about your concerns. “Yeah, I’m good,” you say, smiling afterwards for good measure.

“Okay,” she smiled back, grabbing a towel. “I’m off to the showers.”

You nod and watch as she leaves the room again before looking back down at your phone. Chewing on your bottom lip, you type out a quick text before moving back against your headboard and grabbing your laptop, suddenly feeling inspired enough to start your short story.

Princess: I hope you’re having fun, Ani. I’m sorry again. I love you.

Anakin didn’t answer you and pocketed his phone before downing his third shot of the night. Liz was next to him at the bar while Vinny and Clara were off dancing, and Theo was a few stools down. “Hey,” she called over the loud music, making him lean closer to her in order to hear her better. “Have you ever gotten high?”

Anakin shook his head, the fast movement making his already dizzy head spin a bit more. “No, never,”

“Never?” She asked, shock lacing her tone as she took out a plastic bag from her purse. “Wow, your girlfriend really kept you on a short leash, huh?”

“I guess,” he said without really thinking over his words. “What is that?”

“Just a little something to make this night even more fun,” she smirked.

“How did you even get that in here?” He asked as she opened the bag and took out one of the little pills. “We were checked at the doors.”

She shrugged, “I have my ways. Want one?”

Anakin looked at the pill she held up, a teasing smile on her red lips and her brow raised. “No,” he shook his head, watching as she shrugged again and placed the pill on her tongue.

“Suit yourself,” she said as she put the bag back in her purse. “Dance with me.”

He couldn’t say anything before she grabbed his hand and another drink as she guided him towards the middle of the club. The place was packed and Anakin kept a firm hold on her hand as she made her way through the crowd of drunk people, still worried about her getting separated even in his near-drunk state.

She placed her hand on his shoulder and he kept his at his sides, making Liz roll her eyes. “Come on, Anakin,” she said over the music. “Dancing with me isn’t cheating.”

She held the drink up to his lips and he took more than a few sips from it before she finished it off and set it on a nearby table.

“Dance with me,” she said again, guiding his hands up until they were on her hips. “Have fun.”

Anakin squeezed her waist a bit as he felt his head spin from all the drinks he had before this. She moved their bodies to the music, a proud smirk on her lips as she slid her hands up and gripped his hair.

If he closed his eyes and let himself get lost inside his own head, he could imagine that it was you who he’s dancing with, and that it was your body that is pressed to his. Your hands that are tangled in his hair, pulling on it in the way you knew he loved.

She jumped and swayed against him, a laugh leaving her mouth at the dazed expression in his eyes. He had no idea how long they did that before she stilled her body and stared at him.

Liz leaned up and teased his lips with the tip of her nose before she turned around and pressed her back against his front. Her hands cover his that were still on her hips as she subtly ground back against him, making Anakin jolt back a bit at the same time Vinny slaps him lightly on his shoulder. “Hey, man,” he called out. “You doing okay? You seem a bit…wasted.”

Vinny eyed Liz, who just gave him an innocent smile as she reached up to fix her hair. “I think I am,” Anakin answered and Vinny nodded, wrapping his arm tighter around Clara’s waist.

“I think we’re done for tonight,” he said, mainly to Liz. “Come on, Anakin.”

Vinny took his forearm and began to pull Anakin towards the exit. “Are you coming?” Anakin asked Liz, who just shook her head.

“My nights just begun,” she said before Vinny fully tugged him away from her, nodding at Theo on his way out.

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sunnebeam · 10 months

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twin flame bruise. (01)

PART 1.

pairing: jeon jeongguk x reader, jeon jungkook x reader (yes they're different people)

plot: the jeon twins have become nothing more than two strikingly similar looking guys who share a mere home address and a last name. but in their senior year of college, the estranged twins may have found one more thing they share in common – you.

warnings: jeon twins au, possible headache bc the use of jeongguk and jung kook is v confusing (but they're different people here your honor), specific warnings will be emphasized in the actual completed fic (whenever that may be)

series index. | masterlist + disclaimers.

note: normally i don't post unfinished wips (especially ones with plots that aren't completely fleshed out yet) but this au has been sitting in my drafts since amas 2021, so i thought why not post a lil snippet and just dip right after? (p.s. please manage ur expectations bc 1. i'm too lazy to write this and 2. i have no idea where i'm going with this plot)

More often than not, identical twins are actually more different than similar.

The Jeon twins are a testament to that, even going as far as to insisting they’re entire opposites instead of merely different.

Jeongguk — the older of the two by a mere seven minutes; the golden son — can’t remember the last time he and his younger brother Jung Kook — the black sheep of the family by a great margin; the problematic son — saw eye to eye. In fact, their whole lives have been a flurry of grit and determination to prove they’re not the identical twins people saw them to be; that they’re individuals, that they’re their own persons.

First it was the nicknames. Despite the differences in spelling, Jeongguk and Jung Kook sound almost exactly the same and neither twin is having that. Thus, Jeongguk became “Guk” and Jung Kook became “JK”. Anyone who calls them otherwise will earn themselves a grimace from the older twin and a scoff from the younger.

Next it was their personalities, and by extension, their forms of expression. Both twins are conventionally attractive, a commonality they can’t help but share through their genes, but each own up to the word “beautiful” in their own unique ways.

Jeongguk is the calmer of the two, the more responsible one, the reliable pillar. His stellar grades and bookish habits surprisingly go hand in hand with his eleven piercings and constant need to work out at the gym. He prefers his hair in a short, neat cut and favors studs as earrings for a generally clean look.

Jung Kook on the other hand is the more adventurous of the two, the mysterious one, the wild card. His grades are just enough to make him pass despite the fact that he rarely shows up to classes, always disappearing during periods of time and reappearing as if nothing is amiss. He prefers his long, chin-length hair slicked back so that it complements his undercut and favors hoops as well as dangling earrings for a slightly bolder look.

Despite these insistent differences, the twins still end up in the same university, in the same campus, albeit in different programs. Guk earned himself an academic scholarship into the business program their parents always pushed at, whereas JK also landed himself a scholarship through his participation in their old high school’s varsity team that allows him to pursue a sports science program.

Studying completely different majors and living in completely different parts in the huge campus, the two brothers see each other less and less with each passing year.

After their freshman year, JK stops coming home for holidays and breaks. In the middle of their sophomore year, Guk stops making excuses for his younger twin whenever their parents ask questions. By their junior year, the two brothers have become nothing more than two strikingly similar looking guys who share a mere home address and a last name.

But in their senior year, the estranged Jeon twins may have found one more thing they share in common.

Something. Someone.

You.

You’ve known JK since your first year and after that first hookup, you’ve become a regular fixture in his apartment. You fight endlessly, you make up frequently, you fuck constantly, but most of all, you care for each other deeply. Though you never really crossed the line between friends-who-fuck and something more, you know him well enough to be assured of your place in his life.

You trust him. That is, until you meet his twin.

You meet Guk in your last year of college, which opens up a whole new jar of questions. Why didn’t JK tell you about his twin brother? Didn’t he trust you? What other secrets is he hiding?

Will you just be another thing they have in common that ends up further driving the wedge between them?

He’s running out of time.

Fuck, Jung Kook knew he shouldn’t have come here. No amount of money is worth the stress of putting himself in sketchy situations. Not to mention this is the longest he’s been gone and there’s no doubt that his phone is filled to the brim with your concerned texts and voicemails.

“What did Yoongi tell you about this guy?” his partner Namjoon asks him as they’re observing their client from a distance.

“Nothing,” Jung Kook replies robotically.

“Figures.”

A tense silence falls over them. Nothing like the smug, comfortable silences they shared in previous gigs. This one is more fragile, more different. Just like how this client seems more different, more dangerous.

“You still wanna go through with this, JK?” Namjoon still thinks to ask even though he already knows the answer.

The logical decision would be for Jung Kook to say no, to not risk their safety for the sake of measly profits that they only get a portion of, to walk away and forget all about the sketchy looking client. But Jung Kook has never been exactly logical.

Your face flashes through his mind, your smile, your laugh, the way you felt in his arms, the sincerity in your voice when you said three peculiar words to him, the tears you cried when he shut you out weeks ago.

Even in this tense situation, you’re all he thinks of. You’re it for him and that’s exactly why he needs to make this gig. He needs the money. He needs you.

So instead, Jung Kook replies with, “yes,” and takes a step forward.

All he needs to do is take a step forward.

The front door is already open and he can already see the inside of the apartment, but for some reason Jeongguk can’t move. Maybe he’s afraid of what he might find. Or more specifically, what he might not find.

It’s been a week since he heard around campus that his twin brother has gone AWOL, and this time around doesn’t seem like one of his usual two-to-three-day disappearances. Normally Jeongguk wouldn’t meddle. After all, it’s been several months (or was it years?) since he last physically saw and talked to his own twin. But something is tugging at him this time. Something tells him this time is different.

He sighs. Then takes a step forward.

JK’s apartment looks exactly like how he remembers it, save for a few minor changes. Nothing seems to be amiss. Nothing indicates distress or disturbance, but almost everything indicates a voluntary exit. He pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s heard all the rumors about what exactly his twin does in his spare time. He once tried confronting him about it but was met with an enraged cry of, “mind your own business!” When he asked again on a particularly calm day when they were both civil with each other, the latter merely whispered a shaky, “nothing too dangerous, I swear.”

Guk paces around the modest apartment, running his hands through his hair in agitation. It’s obvious what he has to do but how exactly does he start looking for his younger brother who’s been gone for nearly three weeks? He doesn’t know where to begin, where to sit down and think. He doesn’t even know if this apartment is the right starting point.

A knock on the door. Then another one. Then a series of hard knocks followed by frantic shouting.

“I know you’re in there, asshole!”

Jeongguk lurches out of his seat and fumbles with the locks on the door. He doesn’t know if the shouting was directed at him, that whoever is outside was talking about him, or at his absent brother. The yelling continues with a mix of “open up!” and “I hate you! I hate you!” before he finally manages to open the door and is greeted with the sight of an angry, tear-stained face.

You’re panting, looking at him as if he’s the bane of your existence but that’s impossible because he’s sure he’s never met you before.

“You asshole!” you screech at him as you step forward and land punches on his chest, not noticing how it’s slightly bigger and sturdier than you’re used to. “You act all cold to me out of the blue! Disappear for three weeks, ignore my calls and texts! Then you come back and not tell me? I hate you, JK, I hate you!”

Jeongguk is bewildered and if he isn’t so distracted by your hands on his chest and your pretty eyes trained on him, he would’ve noticed how your entire body relaxed in his hold and your lips formed a pout.

“Fuck it,” you whisper.

Then you kiss him.

He’s kissing you back.

You deepen the kiss, and it’s like the past three weeks of worrying never happened. The kiss is as explosive as usual, both of you so into it with passion and eagerness, and you’re just grateful he’s back. He’s safe and in your arms again. Your tongue darts out to trace his lower lips and you hear him moan appreciatively before your wet muscle feels something different. Something metal.

You pull back all of a sudden. His eyes are still closed as he tries to chase your lips but you push his chest back with narrowed eyes. He opens his eyes in a daze.

“You got a lip piercing?” Your squinted eyes land on his right eyebrow. “And another on your eyebrow?” Your eyes trace the six studs that form an aesthetically straight line on his right ear. “You look different. You cut your hair. And your arm… those tattoos…” you trail off when you spot a full sleeve tattoo on his right arm instead of the few inked doodles you remember. “JK, what’s going on?”

The name which you call him snaps Guk out of his kiss-induced haze and he finally, finally, takes a good look at you. You’re beautiful. Wait, that’s probably an understatement. You’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen — from your swollen lips to your arched eyebrow to your sweet, confused face.

“Who are you?” he asks. Something he should’ve done before he welcomed your lips on his.

You growl adorably in irritation and he almost kisses you again before you spit back a retort. “I’m not playing around. Be serious for once, JK.”

“That’s the thing,” he says slowly as he steps back and looks at you cautiously. “I’m not exactly JK… I’m his twin brother—“

“I told you to stop messing with me!”

“I’m not! I’m not, I swear!” He holds his hands up in surrender when you look at him threateningly. “I’m his twin brother, Jeongguk, but I mostly go by Guk. I’m sorry my brother never told you about me but I’m sure he has his reasons.”

Your eyes narrow even further. “What are you implying? If you’re saying he— Are you saying he doesn’t trust me?”

“That’s not what I meant. Look, I’m sorry, I don’t know any more than you do but I promise you I’m telling the truth.” He grips his hair in frustration and resumes his earlier pacing.

You eye him cautiously when he finally takes a seat on the couch. You observe how he looks eerily similar to JK, if not the exact same — from his doe eyes to his luscious hair to his full, rosy lips — yet he harbors his own unique features that separate him from your missing lover. Your chest aches when you remember those same pouty lips spouting hurtful words at you weeks ago and shutting you out.

“So you’re really…” you start cautiously, “…JK’s twin brother?”

“I am,” he answers promptly and you vaguely hear him add a hushed, “unfortunately.”

JK has always been secretive with you but hiding the fact that he has a twin brother is like a slap to your face. How could he have kept something this big from you? How could he, when you have always been unapologetically open with him?

“Why didn’t he ever tell me?” you whisper, your voice cracking in the end.

Jeongguk sighs. “I don’t know.”

You’re both quiet when you sit on the couch a few inches away from him. You both stare at nothing on the floor, with you trying to grasp the fact that JK never told you about his identical twin and with Guk trying to comprehend the truth that his twin brother never told him about you.

“Jeongguk… I mean, Guk?” you whisper. “Do you know where he is?”

He answers after a minute. “I don’t.”

Another minute. “Is he in danger?”

Half a minute, then Jeongguk turns to you with soft voice. “I hope not.”

#bts x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #bts fic #jeon jungkook fic #jungkook fic #jeon jeongguk x you #jeongguk x reader #jeon jeongguk x reader #jeongguk x you #bts x you #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook x you #cat.writes

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solarwonux · 6 months

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Business Proposal || knj (8/?)

pairing: namjoon x f!reader || ex friends to lovers!au friends to lovers!au

Genre: fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, fwb!au, non idol!au, unrequited love

Warnings: slow burn, angst, fluff, flirting, semi-edited

Rating: mature, 18+

w.c: 7.0

Synopsis: Namjoon is living on borrowed time, and it’s time to cash in. His father is months from taking his last breathe and his life long dream is to watch his oldest son say “I do.”

A/n: I hope you enjoy, I will add all the extra links later. Please please please let me know your thoughts you have no idea how much it helps me. Enjoy!

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10 years ago.

You have circled around Dionysus Lake at least three times, in a failed attempt to calm your nerves. In all honesty you aren’t sure why you’re so nervous, it was a simple tutoring session with your friend's brother. Yet, the hammering in your heart and the pressure around your neck was impossible to ignore.

You know this has nothing to do with you finding him attractive. You can find someone attractive but not be attracted to them. Hence Jungkook. You know it has nothing to do with the fact that his meeting place of choice was the one cafe that was slightly out of the budget you set aside for iced coffees on the weekday.

What you do know is that it has everything to do with the fact that this is something new. A little hiccup in your perfectly curated daily routine. From now on every Tuesday and Thursday you will be meeting up with Kim Namjoon at seven o’clock at Serendipity Cafe. Who by some miracle will hopefully have you understanding the PEMDAS rules that you’re hundred percent sure we’re taught wrong to you. No more will be your days in which you stay at HYBE U’s seven floor library, cranking down on research or polishing essays after math class. No more will be your days that you decide that maybe it was time for some me time, and enjoy a nice long relaxing bath with different bath salts, bath bombs, and candles in an attempt to relax your racing thoughts and aching muscles.

No, now you have to squeeze in a half an hour walk after your algebra class to give yourself a breather. So, you don’t have to face your friend's brother all frazzled and annoyed that you have successfully sat through a math class without understanding a thing. Really, your nerves are really due to the fact that you don’t want to seem incompetent; but is it your fault that you’ve had incompetent math teachers or lack of math teachers throughout your academic year? It’s not your fault they couldn’t explain complex terms in a simple form. Or that they took advantage of the system to get close to younger children. You were cheated out of a decent understanding of math because the academic system simply worked against you.

It’s a thought you have been turning over and over in your head since you woke up this morning. You’ve been trying out every other excuse in the book.

“I’m sorry they had us do flawed computer programs in middle school instead of actually teaching us something.”

“You see I couldn’t really do my math homework growing up because I had ballet class at four until eight.”

“I’m actually really smart I just don’t understand how the fuck I have to apply an exponent when there’s a parenthesis involved.”

All of these excuses were dumb. A mask for the actual truth. Math was uninteresting, impalpable. It stayed constant and lacked excitement because you couldn’t see the puzzles laid out before you. That, and sometimes you sneakily read a book in the back of the class or whispered about the next big boy band with your equally as boy crazed friends Shalimar and Ruth.

Still, after your third wrap around Dionysus lake, you’ve decided that if questioned you’d just come clean.

“I’m stupid and I absolutely have no idea why we have to have letters and numbers mingle with each other.”

Hopefully he'll appreciate your honesty and grow a soft spot for you. At least that’s what you hope for. And you keep hoping for as you steadily approach the large wooden doors of Serendipity. There’s still about ten minutes until seven, but you figured you’d get there a bit early to grab a good seat. One in a section that’s quiet but not too quiet because the last thing you want while you sip on your peppermint tea is to be consumed by your overwhelming thoughts while you wait for your tutor.

You approach the counter, gripping the leather strap of your purse, going over your order in case you stumble upon your words due to pressure.

“Welcome to Serendipity whe—oh hey you’re Kookie’s girl.” The man behind the counter says in awe. While you cringe at the fact that you’re being referred to as Jungkook’s girl. You remember the doe eyed man referring to the man now wearing a button down with what seems to be condoms printed all over it as Hobi. Though his nametag states that his name is Hoseok. You try not to dwell on it for too long because he’s looking at you curiously. Probably wondering why you haven’t greeted him back or placed your order.

You shake your head, circling your moon shaped bag back to the front of your body, attempting to hide your discomfort. “Oh, hi, um, Jungkook’s just a friend.” You swallow, while he smiles in acknowledgement.

“I see, things are complicated. I get that.” He brushes you off before turning to the iPad in front of him. Before you can counteract with a ‘no it’s actually very simple, we share classes and he’s unfortunately picked me to annoy.’ He speaks up and gets right to the point. “What can I get you cutie?” He finishes, looking at you through his bangs.

The heat in your body erupts. No guy has ever been this forward with you but you’re positive this is just part of his customer service training. If he ever had one. Either way he’s talking you up and making you feel seen, which you assume is a specialty of his and probably why the cafe is crowded with many young adults.

With a grin you say. “Just a hot mint chocolate latte.” You nod in assurance before opening up your purse and taking out your wallet. When you fish your card out and go to swipe it across the reader a hand stops you. Startled, you look up to find Hobi or Hoseok smiling wide at you.

“No need, it’s already paid for.” He takes his hand away and gives you a white buzzer instead.

You furrow your brows in confusion. How has your drink already been paid for when you’ve just entered? You aren’t complaining, you did just save some money, but that small amount of happiness doesn’t mean that you aren’t confused.

The cashier seems to read your confusion and he chuckles, running a hand through his hair. “Namjoon paid for you earlier when he ordered his drink.”

“What?” You glance down at your phone to see the time. Did you get it wrong? The two of you agreed on seven, and you even confirmed it this morning through a quick text just to be sure. So, why does the analog clock on your phone read 6:55, and Namjoon has possibly already been waiting for you.

You curse under your breath and quickly put your wallet in your purse before turning around to look at the almost empty cafe. There’s only a couple of people occupying the circular tables. All of them fully immersed in their books or laptop screens. Namjoon is nowhere in sight. You look back at Hoseok—you’ve decided to refer to him as such since it’s what’s on his nametag—and he laughs at your confusion.

He lifts up a finger signaling up, “he’s on the second floor, got here about an hour ago.”

His statement doesn’t do anything but worsen the panic already coursing through your veins. Maybe you did misinterpret the time, still it wouldn’t make sense because wouldn’t he have texted you by now asking where you were?

“Um thank you…”

“Call me Hobi.” He waves a hand in front of your face. “Any friend or special friend of the boys gets the privilege to call me Hobi. Plus Hoseok—” He points to his nametag with a boney finger. “Sounds too serious.” He shrugs.

You nod your head. “Thank you Hobi.” You rush out the acknowledgement and turn around and speed walk to the industrial style spiral staircase.

It’s a dizzying journey up, but once you make it to the final step you spot the man that has your nerves at an all time high. He’s sitting in the far corner next to a floor to ceiling window. His back is hunched as he types away on his laptop. Today he’s ditched the beanie and you can see his dark brown hair. A few strands of his bangs sneak their way behind the thick rims of his black glasses. He’s wearing a simple gray long sleeve, with black sweatpants. He looks relaxed, the opposite of what you’re feeling because the thing you hate most in the world is keeping people waiting.

With quick steps you approach the table, halting when you get to the front of a chair. “I’m sorry, I thought we agreed on seven.” You rush out instead of a proper greeting. In a quick motion he lifts his head and takes off the earbuds inside his ears, and you feel like more of an idiot than before because of course he would be wearing noise canceling earbuds.

“Hey, you’re here. Did you order something? I told Hobi that I would just pay for what you wanted.” He grins and stands up, extending his hand for you in a handshake.

You put your hand in his and feel a shiver run down your spine when his cold one meets your clammy one. “Am I late?” You tilt your head to the side.

Namjoon shakes his head, and lets go of your hand before sitting down again. “No, you’re right on time. I just got here a bit early to get a head start on an essay due by the end of the week.” He reassures you, and finally you can let out the breath you had been holding in.

You feel calmer now. Relieved. You set down your stuff on an empty chair and take the seat directly in front of him. You place your white buzzer in front of you, tracing the circular ridges. Now, that you’re not in such a panicked state you can finally show your gratitude to his selfless actions. “Thank you for the drink, you didn’t have to pay for it.”

The busy man smiles and waves his hand in front of his face to brush you off. “It’s no big deal, Hobi gives me discounts anyway.”

“So, I’ve heard.” You whisper recalling the first night you met him a week ago. Since then, Jungkook snuck his brother’s phone number to you the next day at the library. He didn’t say anything, he just passed by you with a green drink from the only smoothie place on campus and a sticky note saying:

Text Namjoon, he’s forgetful. -JK

It took the whole day to muster up the courage but finally you sent a simple text regarding your name and the fact that his younger brother had been the one to sneak you his number. In case, he assumed you had gone through multiple deep dives on the internet to retrieve it. Thankfully, Namjoon didn’t question it and just replied with a simple greeting. Then the two of you got into a brief conversation that lasted about two days because you’re also forgetful and forgot to reply to his messages. Basically coordinating a plan further than the one you had discussed the first time you met.

It was strictly business. Yet, a part of you felt a little happy that you were meeting and talking to somebody new.

Just as you’re about to take out your small notebook and pen from your purse your buzzer comes to life, filling the spaces of silence in the air surrounding the two of you. Namjoon’s eyes tear away from his computer screen, and you’re about to stand up when he beats you to it. He quickly grabs a hold of the noisy device saying, “Don’t worry I got it,” and he disappears down the stairs.

You’re now sitting by yourself, wallowing in your over consuming thoughts. Most of them involve the story Jungkook told you about his very eventful weekend while the two of you were walking to your math lecture earlier today. Truly, it was so odd knowing that he had run into Taehyung at a club in the rich part of town. The two of them stayed together the entire night and even brought home two girls to Taehyung’s apartment. Thankfully, he didn’t share further than that, but he did share that he was in love. In which you rolled your eyes so hard it gave you vertigo.

In the few months that you have known the man. He has claimed that he has been in love with every single girl he’s slept with. Which surprisingly, given his flirty nature was not a lot. What was surprising to you was Taehyung being at the club. It’s not out of character for him, but Saturday nights were always spent at Jimin’s one bedroom apartment catching up on life, and binge watching One Piece. When his text message came through on Saturday evening saying that he wasn’t feeling very well and skipping out. You couldn’t help but feel a little sad because you hadn’t seen him in a while.

Taehyung was always out and about, chasing every new adventure he could grasp. He called it inspiration for his art, but you always knew there was another underlying reason. One he never cared to explain because in all honesty it only made sense to him. He was a tough book to get through. Sometimes it keeps you questioning why you even have a soft spot for it. Though, you suppose it is the backstory the two of you share. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a little bit hurt knowing he had chosen to not ditch you but Jimin as well.

The night wasn’t a bust and you managed to finally make a significant breakthrough on the anime. Twenty episodes in one night was something that needed to be awarded. It did feel a bit awkward when it was just the two of you. It was as if there was an invisible ceiling slowly crushing you, because on Saturday for the first time ever the two of you found yourself stuck. Nothing to talk about. No updates on life, only the sound of the anime doing its best to fill the void of Taehyung not being there that the both of you unspokenly felt.

It made you question a lot of things. Like was it maybe time to finally part ways? A chilling thought that sent shivers down your spine and one you pushed so far into the back of your head. One you really don’t want to think about now, especially when you’re about to succumb yourself to a full extra hour of torture. Otherwise known as: College Algebra.

“Hobi says that if you take a picture of his latte art to tag him if you post it.” Namjoon voices, placing a small tray in front of your open notebook. A white mug with a beautiful Jack O'Lantern drawn in white foam decorates the top of your warm decaffeinated latte. It’s impressive, surely puts all those swans and hearts to shame.

“He’s a big fan of Halloween, and he always says that fall time means it's Halloween everyday.” Namjoon finishes with a chuckle, as he takes the seat in front of you again.

You laugh a little, fishing out your phone from the pocket of your jean jacket. “I can get behind that.” You say as you click on the camera app and snap a couple of pictures.

Unbeknownst to you, Namjoon is watching as you rearrange the contents on the table. To get the right aesthetic for your perfect picture. He can’t lie, it's a little endearing, seeing somebody so excited over latte art he has grown accustomed to seeing. It’s something he will definitely spill onto Hoseok before he leaves. His friend was crazy talented in many areas and he hates that instead of sharing all his passions out with the world. He’s stuck running Serendipity because his grandfather wanted the neighborhood's hub to stay in the Jung family. When he should be out in the world sharing his clothing designs with anyone who’s willing to listen.

Namjoon’s thoughts are interrupted by your extended hand, holding out your phone for him. “What’s his instagram?” You grin, and his eyes make their way to the small phone screen. A beautifully taken picture, showing off the spooky pumpkin with a caption reading,

Halloween should be all year round @--

Namjoon lets out an ‘ah’ before taking your phone and quickly typing out his friend's handle. He reads the caption again, double checking to see if he made any mistakes, Halloween should be all year round @uramyhope.

He nods in approval and hands you back your phone. Deep down he feels a surge of something foreign. He can’t necessarily put his finger on it but regarding Hoseok’s statement when he first met you last week, when he asked both his brother and him for your number. He feels a little strange, knowing that he’s basically given the two of you a way to start communicating outside of him and Jungkook. Knowing the aspiring designer, he won’t miss a beat, and that makes him feel a bit odd.

He shrugs it off though, pushes away the churning in his stomach, concluding that it was because he chose to consume caffeine so late in the evening. He looks back at his computer screen, while you type away on your phone. He continues to ignore it, saves the document on his computer two times before closing the lid. He pushes it aside, and clears his throat, catching your attention.

Quickly you lock your phone and stuff it into the pocket of your jacket. You look over at Namjoon, his hands clasped in front of him and a scowl prominent on his face. It resembled the same one he transformed into the first night you met him. When he coldly stated he was done with blind dating thanks to his mother and step brother. Though, this time it does feel less intense, probably due to the fact that he knows you’re just here to be his tutee and not his future wife.

Still, it lets you know that time was ticking and it was finally time to get down to business.

“How have you gone on this long without understanding the basic principles of algebra?”

Namjoon is serious. He means business and you’re about to pull out the hair from your scalp.

“Maybe because I never had a permanent math teacher, they’d all leave in the middle of the year.” You pout, crossing your arms in front of you and slumping down in your seat.

He lets out a sigh before sliding your notebook to his side of the table. The metal spiral scratching against the wooden surface, letting out an unpleasant noise making you cringe.

“That’s a good excuse.” He says, grabbing his red pen and making all sorts of marks along the paper. You don’t need to know what steps you got wrong while solving the math problem. You know exactly where you went wrong. It was the second you signed up for the class even if you didn’t have much of a choice.

You groan, throwing your head back. “It’s not an excuse. My eighth grade teacher left in the middle of the year because she got pregnant, my ninth grade teacher unfortunately was diagnosed with cancer. Then my tenth grade teacher was accused of being a pedophile so he was fired an—“

“Okay,” Namjoon cuts you off, setting down his pen on top of your notebook. “I understand, your school was just shitty at keeping teachers around.” He grins, placing the notebook in front of you again. “But did you ever do your math homework?” He tilts his head to the side in curiosity.

Unfortunately you’ve been caught. “No,” you whisper, dragging your fingernail down the spiral.

The sound he lets out tells you enough. He’s proven his point with the sarcastic hum that escapes his mouth. “In my defense I had dance practice everyday after school from two to four and the ballet from five to eight.” You add but it does little to prove your innocence. Instead, it makes you look guiltier or maybe not you but your parents because who would choose an extracurricular activity over academics. Especially when they knew their daughter was absolute shit at math. They did try though, but even the math tutor they hired back in high school could not get through to you.

“I see,” he puts a pensive hand on his chin leaning back. The look he gives you makes you feel small. You can’t tell if he’s judging your upbringing or the you now who can’t seem to understand the simple PEMDAS rules.

“Your problem isn’t even that bad. It’s easy to fix. You know what each operation does. You just get confused with the order along the way.” He leans forward, picking up the pen and pointing to the problem you just finished doing. “You know to do parenthesis first, but then you forget that parenthesis don’t really go away. That’s your first mistake.”

It’s like a lightbulb has suddenly flicked on inside your head as you watch him solve the problem while thoroughly explaining each step. Writing out every single step even if it was unnecessary, but it helps.

“So the answer should be seventeen and not twenty-two.” He finishes, and the puzzle slowly starts to connect itself before your eyes. The steps are laid out perfectly and neatly. The parenthesis stay until the equation is factored to the lowest it can go. And you’re about to jump across the table to give the man before you the biggest hug. He’s the only one who's been able to point out what you’ve done wrong your whole life and then explain it easily.

You lift your head up, wide eyed and say “oh, that makes sense.”

Namjoon laughs, almost as if he’s relieved but also disbelieved. You start to feel bad because for the past hour he’s been trying to explain to you the basic principles in every way possible. And it was only until he explained it to you in baby terms that you finally understood. You’re about to apologize, but instead you’re left stunned by his next words.

“I’m giving you homework for the next time we see each other on Thursday.” He hums, flipping to the next page. Your eye twitches a little at the thought of math homework. If you never did it while you were in school and getting graded for it, why would you do it now?

“Homework?”

He hums, and begins to write down a bunch of different math problems. He can sense that you’re about to fill him with different complaints, so he speaks up. “Do you want to pass math class?

“Yes, but do you really need to give me homework?”

“How many hours were you in dance class growing up?”

“I don’t remember like five hours, but what does that have to do with you giving me math homework.”

“What were you doing for five hours?” He lifts his head, handing you your notebook. You take it looking down at the ten perfectly curated algebra problems.

You want to throw up.

“Practicing.”

“Exactly, and how are you going to pass math?”

You huff, seeing exactly where his question was heading. Proving a point or whatever. Jungkook did mention his brother was a bit of a smart ass. Now you’re unfortunate enough to be at the receiving end.

With a grunt you close your notebook. “Fine, I'll do the homework.”

Namjoon smirks, tapping his ear, leaning in further into the table. “No, I want to hear you say it please.”

You stuff your small spiral notebook into your purse, snatching your special pink mechanical pencil from his side of the table. You spent too much money on it to let—your stupid math tutor who is now giving you homework to make you suffer—steal it.

“I need to practice math.” You mumble, zipping up your bag, and putting it over your shoulder.

Namjoon laughs, letting his red pen fall against the wooden table with a clank. You roll your eyes before standing up. At least your suffering was amusing to someone.

You cross your arms in front you waiting for his laughter to die down. When it does he looks at you, watery eyes from joy and you feel a slight tug in the inside of your chest. You push it to the side, convince yourself that it’s just the irritation bubbling up inside of you.

“Are you done?”

He nods, shuffles around the table to put his stuff away. “How are you getting home?” He questions, standing up and hoisting his vintage messenger bag over his shoulder.

You shrug, “the bus.” You state, pulling up your phone to check the bus schedule. If you can catch the next bus that comes in ten minutes then you’ll still be able to get home with a couple of seconds left of daylight.

“I’ll go with you then.” He states firmly, standing up abruptly and walking past you. It leaves you no room to argue against him.

You’re quickly starting to realize that once he says something firmly enough to be believed as the truth. There is absolutely no room left for a final say.

And they call you stubborn…as if.

The bus arrived a minute late. A minute that felt longer than what it should’ve felt. The two of you were the only ones standing side by side under the dim light of the bus stop.

It’s one thing to be in the same room as your tutor while the only thing the two of you talk about is math. It’s another thing to have him offer to walk you home. There’s no conversation. There’s no way to start a conversation. The only thing you really know about him is that he’s still studying, he is Jungkook’s step brother and he’s a philosophy major. The only philosophers you knew off were the ones from Ancient Greece. All the readings for your Introduction to Modern Rhetorics course that you were assigned to do were somewhere buried in the back of your mind.

You don’t want to start up a conversation in which you know you won’t be able to keep up. You remember very little about the readings and somehow the things you do remember blend into one another. So you can’t differentiate between what one philosopher said and what the other said.

Instead, Namjoon and you walk in silence. At a safe distance but close enough to still feel the presence of the other. Then you stand in the bus stop. Neither of you sit on the cold metal bench because it’s still not cold enough for them to turn on the bench warmers. And when you see that the bus is a minute late, you start to feel the slightly awkward air around the two of you get thicker.

You’re about to bite the bullet, take the embarrassing moment for some sort of small talk when the bright blue bus turns the corner. You watch it approach the stop fast. At least that’s what it feels like and soon enough the driver opens the double doors to welcome the two of you.

Surprisingly it’s not full. There are a few people occupying the seats, but there’s enough room to not feel like you’re being squished upon one another. Namjoon lets you enter first. Once you click your transit card against the reader you scan the rows for an empty seat. And of course, there’s two left in the far back. You walk to it quickly. Pass the exhausted bystanders and take the seat against the window.

After all, you will be here for the next twenty five minutes. Though, it’s not only occurred to you that you don’t know where Namjoon lives, until he takes up the seat next to yours. You want to ask if he’s going out of his way or if his place is along this route. But you don’t want to pry too much. You’ve only just met him officially. You also don’t know what you would do with yourself if it does turn out that his place is out of the way. Probably, apologize profusely for being such an inconvenience.

To save yourself from the discomfort you sights upon the buildings outside the window. Your daydreaming only lasts a few seconds when you feel a light tap against your shoulder. In a quick motion you turn your head to face the man sitting next to you. You tilt your head in question and he opens his mouth to speak.

“What’s the deal with you and Jungkook?”

The question feels like you’ve been hit by whiplash. It’s not the first time you get asked about it. Your longtime friend Jina has brought it up a few times, but you always reply with the same exact answer. “I guess we’re friends.” You shrug.

Namjoon hums in acknowledgment, nodding his head. He looks ahead for a few minutes before looking back at you. “Are you sure?”

Now, this question takes you aback. Nobody’s ever questioned your honesty. At least until now.

You quirk a brow and nod. “Yes, we share a few classes and sometimes we study together. But it always feels like I’m there to study and he’s just there to talk because he never shuts up.” You rant.

“Ah,” he chuckles, moving his head in confirmation. “That sounds like him, when he was younger he never talked, but then he turned fifteen got a little confident because he found out a few people found him cute and he just never stopped talking then.” Namjoon reveals, making you smile. “He also talks in his sleep.” He adds, smiling when he hears you let out a giggle.

Suddenly, it doesn’t feel as awkward as before. It feels a bit simpler. And you find yourself leaning into his aura a little more.

“I think he likes you though.” He adds, making your eyes grow wide in surprise. Maybe you’re dumb or you just don’t understand flirting thanks to the two very unserious relationships you had between the transition of high school and college. But from what you do know is that Jungkook holds no romantic feelings or a liking towards you. That’s something you’re very confident in.

“I don’t think so.” You scoff. “He would be stupid if he did.” You wave him off, and look out the window. You catch his reflection in the glass. He’s looking down at you, smiling in amusement. It somehow makes your cheeks get a bit hot and you divert your gaze down to the metal border of the window.

“He sat me down on our couch last night and laid down some ground rules.” He speaks up, looking ahead again. He lifts his hand and starts, “I’m not allowed to let you out of my sight, I have to be nice to you, and Hobi is not allowed under any circumstances get your number, which somehow I failed at doing.” He shrugs and counts with his fingers as if that proves his statement.

You stare at his hand before looking up at him again, you’re at a loss for words. Your thoughts are all jumbled up. Somehow you know tonight you won’t be able to sleep. You will now be questioning every single interaction you’ve had with Jungkook in the past few months.

Clearing your throat you say, “that doesn’t mean he like…has feelings for me.”

He lifts his hands up in defense. Your tone is harsh and he finds it amusing. He continues, “don’t shoot the messenger, I’m just relaying information on something I’ve observed.”

You finally turn to look at him. Your eyebrows are drawn together in a scowl. “No offense but your observation is stupid.” You cross your arms in a huff, pouting like a child. It makes Namjoon laugh loud enough to turn heads, causing you to look at him alarmed. It only makes him laugh harder and when you’re about to reprimand him, the automatic voice sounds in the speakers of the bus. It announces your stop and you scramble quickly to press the bright red button to stop the bus.

This shuts Namjoon up, he looks around, biting the inside of his cheek before nodding his head in confirmation. “This is your stop,” he voices just as the bus comes to a halt.

You nod, taking out your bus card from your purse and standing up. He copies your movements, makes his way to the card scanner and places his card against it. He doesn’t wait for you to exit he simply does and stands outside on the sidewalk, hands in his pocket. You scan your card and take the leap of faith from the bus stairs to the sidewalk. You land next to him, thanking your lucky stars for catching you and finally you voice out the question that’s been dying in the back of your throat.

“This is not your stop is it?”

“It’s not but, I promised Jungkook you would get home safely.” With that he turns on his heels and escapes the light of the stop, appearing again a few feet ahead underneath the street light. “Are you coming?”

“Do you do everything Jungkook says?” You grumble. The argument in which you state that you’re a big girl who is more than capable of walking home by herself escapes you. Only because when you’re finally standing in front of him. His head towering just a few inches above yours, it finally hits you. The jolt that springs in the pit of your stomach. The tug inside your heart that will have you up all night because it feels like a terrible case of heartburn. And the seed, his soft gaze plants inside of your mind.

It’s a mistake, a big one and you’re now regretting taking up Jungkook’s offer to have his brother tutor you. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen at all. The slow cascade down the wall you’ve built surrounding your emotions. You can feel it crumble already, ready to run down a dead end street, because that’s what it feels like. Whatever you’re feeling inside.

“I don’t.” The soft timbre of his voice brings out, you’re thankful it helps you find your way back down to the ground, but you’re not a fan of the way it paints goosebumps across your arms.

He continues, “I don’t want him to lecture me for not looking out after his friend.” He emphasizes the last part, combining it with a wink. You know what he is implying and you can’t help but feel a bit of the drink you had an hour ago threatening to make its way up your throat.

“You’re not going to give up are you?” You walk past him. It’s best to have him a few feet behind than right next to you. The space gives you time to regain yourself, yet it doesn’t last because in seconds he’s right next to you. His arm is so close. It almost brushes against yours. Thankfully it doesn’t but you can smell his cologne. It’s soft, and warm. Like fresh laundry on a sunday morning. It makes your insides burn and you know that from now on you will be looking for that scent everywhere so you can call it yours.

Namjoon shakes his head. “I’ve never seen him this protective over someone apart from his mom.” He whispers now, and the lower his voice gets the lower it sinks inside of you. “You must be special to him.” He concludes.

“I think I’m just the first girl who's never kissed his toes and finds him annoying.” You halt in front of a street light, and he stops with you. The little man signals red—do not go. You turn your head from side to side questioning your safety. If you run now, you will likely still be alive but most importantly away from the man next to you. Honestly, you’re a bit confused. When he was talking about algebra the only thing you could focus on was how to get from point a to point b while solving the problem.

Now that the moon is dim and the streets are emptying out. The only thing you can think about is how soft and ethereal he looks. Nothing like how when you first met him, but something straight out of a modernized fairy tale. It’s hitting you unexpectedly and you begin to wonder if it’s because your exhaustion is finally settling in, making you delusional.

“That could be true, but I think that you’re here to stay for a long time.” He chuckles. The little man switches to green and he takes the step.

“Why do you say that?” You walk fast to catch up to him. You realize that he is blindly following you and you to him. Sure, you’re almost home, but he’s leading the way as if he knows where he’s going. As if he’s done this before with you and has been doing this with you his entire life. It doesn’t do anything to calm your beating heart.

He stays quiet. He keeps on walking, stealing secret glances your way to see if he’s still at the same pace as you. It stays this way until you stop in front of a cute town house. The door is decorated with an autumn reef. The worlds ‘welcome fall,’ take up the entire circumference. There’s a red bell on the handle, to signal when someone is home since the doorbell has been broken ever since you could remember.

You’re home. But for some reason it had already felt like you were home.

“If it’s not Kook then it’s Hobi. Plus I need to make sure you pass math.” He voices.

You look at him, tilting your head in confusion. Until your mouth widens in a silent ‘oh’ recalling the question he had failed to answer a minute ago.

“I think your brain has been corrupted by reading into things while you do your research.”

He chuckles, “again don’t shoot the messenger, it’s not surprising though.” He shrugs, “My brother never shuts up about you, and Hobi hasn’t stopped asking for your contact information since you first walked into Serendipity a week ago.”

You roll your eyes, turning away from him and pressing your palm against the keypad of your house. It lights up, showing numbers and you quickly enter the code, wait for the little lock to signal it has been unlocked and you turn the knob.

Before you walk in you turn to face him again. “I won’t argue with you against the whole Hobi thing. But I know Jungkook doesn’t have feelings for me. If he did he wouldn’t tell me about all the dates he’s gone on and ask for advice whenever he has relationship or situationship problems. Plus he says he’s in love with someone he met this weekend.” You reason.

Namjoon takes his hands out of his pockets, raising his hands in defeat again. “Fine I’ll drop it, but I do think he finds you special. That’s all.” He states firmly and once again you’re reminded of that tone. He’s gotten the last word and you won’t bring up another one because if not then you’d be walking a tight circle around each other.

“Agree to disagree.” You smile, taking one step inside your house. “I’ll take your word for now. Thank you for walking me home. You didn’t have to even if Jungkook asked you to.”

He buries his hands into his pockets and grins. “I also wanted to.” He takes one step back. “Good night, I’ll see you on Thursday.” And with that he turns around, starts his way down the same path that led the two of you here.

Home.

You’re left astounded. In a rush to feel comfort once again, you hurry through the door, slamming it behind you, pressing your back against it. For a moment you’re scared your parents might find you in this state, wallowing in feelings you can’t begin to understand. Then you remember that they were at dinner with their friends, and you’re thankful that you still have some time to regain yourself.

Namjoon’s words cut deep. Not what he said about Jungkook. You know as well as you know your name that romantic feelings between the two of you are nonexistent. But you also know that he said he wanted to walk you home.

Chivalry might not be dead but the bar is low, because he wanted…he wanted…he wanted to wa—

Beep.

Your phone goes off signaling a message. With all the ditzyness a girl with a school girl crush can have. You fish out your phone with a haste, what if it’s him.

Though, that thought dies as quickly as it was conjured. It’s not him, but it’s a notification that in the same right births a little flame inside of you. Maybe not as bright as the one Namjoon left behind, but it has the potential to grow into something more.

uarmyhope wants to send you a message.

Your smile gets wide when you swipe across the notification. It opens up to your Instagram and it quickly directs you to your DMS.

You open it, and you feel a spark when you read the few choice words that were chosen. They’re simple but they’re enough. And they’re the start of a long night of getting to know someone else.

Your next latte is on me cutie.xx

182 notes · View notes

zeltqz · 7 months

Text

𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒 [𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐃] SEVEN

pairing. ex!ran x fem!reader

word count. 9.6k

series synopsis. bonten is forming and in the midst of it all, you find yourself caught in the sticky webs of your ex boyfriend and current bonten executive, haitani ran.

content. buckle up guys, there's a LOT. detailed drug descriptions gun play; shion puts a gun to rans head, TW FOR DRUGS!!!! reader does drugs, sanzu injects drugs like a lunatic, mentioned whorehouse, gambling, sanzu and mochi talk badly about women so tw objectification.

a/n: really decided to amp up the plot in this hope you guys enjoy forreal. some shion backstory + dona too and at the end there's a special cameo at the end HEHEHEHEHEE. oh and please pls pls read the content warning above before reading, ik some ppl arent comfortable with drug mentions or guns in stories so i dont want to make anyone uncomforable ://

Shion’s eyes kept darting towards the clock by his bedside table every five seconds to see if he was reading the time correctly or not.

It’s almost midnight and you disappeared almost seven hours ago with his car, shrugging on your jacket and thanking him with a kiss on the cheek—not even the lips—for letting you borrow his car.

He wanted to ask where you were going but briskly bit down on his tongue, choosing on trusting you instead.

In all honesty he had no clue where you were going, and he doesn’t mean this to sound offensive in the slightest but you don’t have friends to run to, so the curiosity in him peaked.

He didn’t want to appear as controlling and wanting to know your every single move, an attribute he knows fully well you hate in a partner.

From years of knowing you, from growing up together to your teenage years, he’s seen the boys you dated and how they were clingy and wanted you all to themselves. He’s seen them slowly break any resilience you have and left you broken and crying.

It’s a pretty sadistic thing to admit that he liked seeing you stumble over to his house, eyes thick with tears and crying on his shoulder, nodding through quiet whimpers and mumbles as he told you that he’d always be there for you. It’s something that’d been programmed into you since you first got your heart broken at fourteen, the mindset having grown with you even through adulthood.

Shion first found out he loved you when you both were thirteen and when he got arrested and sent to juvie, you were the only one in his life that cared enough to visit him and send him letters every other week.

His mother gave up on him after he broke each one of her warnings. He could still remember her telling him firmly if he continues down this violent path and gets himself caught, he shouldn’t dare coming back home.

Maybe he went a little too far when he was caught smuggling cocaine under his jacket by a police officer and got himself locked up in juvie.

But if you were to ask him if he regretted it, he’d tell you fuck no.

Those times in juvie were the best part of his life; he met Izana, a legend in his eyes, even in death he still honours and respects him. He also met his ex best friends and former gang mates, most of them now known as Bonten.

He met Ran, someone who Shion found himself jealous of for how strong he was, how charismatic he was, how much of a smooth talker he was.

It’s like Ran was built for this lifestyle whilst Shion had to nudge his way in through the tiny doors. He used to stutter when confronted and had to learn to smooth talk his way out of situations.

At only thirteen, Ran was able to not only talk himself out of any situation, but do it efficiently enough without ease and not even sweating one bit.

He loved Ran as a friend, but as a person? He was jealous. Everything that he wanted to be, Ran was.

Shion had to teach himself how to fight and would lose most of the time and make a fool of himself. Whilst Ran would look so bored and uninterested, barely putting in the effort and still would come out on top.

There was an incident when a fight broke out in juvie, everyone was jumping each other just because of the sake of it. Izana was the strongest, taking out over twenty boys his age, Ran was next, finding creative ways to beat them up with objects like kicking a chair till a leg fell off, then whacking them with the object until it was recoloured with their blood.

“You can’t do that! That’s cheating!” Shion had to direct his voice up at the taller boy.

Ran, standing at 5’10 at the age of thirteen, looked down at Shion. The first thing Ran noticed was how his fists were bloody, then he slowly trailed his eyes upwards to his face where the real brunt of the damage was. His eye was black, nose soaked with his own blood and lip on the verge of swollen.

“Cheating?” Ran questioned, looking down at his hand. “You mean this?”

“Yeah! You can’t use weapons. That’s cheating.”

Ran cocked his head to the side. “Says who?”

Shion had to think for a moment. “...the rules?”

“The rules of what? Who made those rules up?”

“Delinquents! Obviously! It’s just common sense!” Shion felt like his mind was boggled. He thought back to all the delinquent manga stacked up in his room, how he aspired to be like them and saw them beating people with their bare fists.

“What do you know about delinquents?” Ran asked back, shifting his weight onto his foot. He placed his hand on his hip, the bloody chair leg swinging backwards, almost stomaching a poor boy walking past.

Shion took a mental note of his calm, placid nature and was genuinely confused. Anyone that studied up on delinquent manga would know that you have to always use your fists, be the loudest, rudest person in the room, always looking for a fight. Yet the boy in front of him right now looked like he was on the verge of sleep yet still managed to beat up ten times more guys than Shion could. Shion seemed happy with his two bodies, then looked over and saw Ran with at least eight, underneath some of those laying on the floor groaning in pain were probably a few more bodies.

“...from manga,” Shion admitted sheepishly, looking down at the floor. Now that he thinks about it, his answer was pretty childish. Ran’s eyebrows rose in a moment of surprise before bursting out into laughter, the sound grating Shion’s ears. “Oh shut up! You think you’re so tough huh?! Fight me without that thing!” He pointed to the chair leg.

Ran finally stopped cackling and dramatically wiped a tear from his eye. He looked down at Shion who was much shorter than him, probably standing around 5’6 and hummed in thought, the sound smooth and sweet yet the chill it sent down Shion’s spine was the total opposite.

“Okay.” Ran shrugged and tossed the chair leg across the room. It clattered against the wall with a loud crash and Shion snapped his head over to see where it landed. In an instant, Shion was on the floor, tackled underneath Ran as he forced Shion’s hands together, pinning him down. Shion struggled and tried to wriggle out of his grip but it was like iron. No, iron is an understatement. Those strong enough could bend iron. It was like diamond.

Shion realised how much weaker he was compared to him and almost started crying from sheer frustration and embarrassment. He’d never seen the delinquents in his manga get absolutely violated like this. Ran’s hand rose up, clenched into a fist and flew downwards to Shion’s face. Shion squeezed his eye shut, ready for the brunt of the hit, but it never came.

His arms suddenly felt a whole lot lighter and he slowly opened his eyes, watching Ran stand up and dust himself off. “You’re too weak for me. It’s not gonna be enjoyable.” He stretched those long limbs of his reaching up towards the ceiling and cracked his back with a few more stretches.

“Wha—” Shion spluttered, shaking his head like a dog to clear his head. “Where’re you going?”

“To shower. I stink.”

“But we didn’t finish! You can’t just leave a fight half way!” he yelled at Ran’s retreating back as he walked out of the cafeteria hall, leaving Shion there alone.

After juvie, the six of them left together and formed a new generation, S-62, doing heinous activities such as drug trafficking and making connections to expand their assets. You, of course, were still waiting for him like you promised. But slowly, the more involved he got, the less and less time he saw you. The two of you didn’t go full ghost on each other, but you were focusing on your own personal life and school, he was focusing on his own thing.

You met Ran when Shion invited you to one of his parties since he missed you and to this day he regrets ever letting you meet him. Not only did you fall for Ran’s charm, he practically brainwashed you, drew you in with his words, his voice, his everything that Shion lacked.

Eventually Ran became the shoulder that you went to cry on instead.

Your relationship with Ran was constantly filled with ups and downs; the ups preceding the downs by a mile.

Ran made you feel good and you became addicted to that feeling, so much so that without, you felt like nothing.

Literally nothing.

During your fights it became an unhealthy habit to avoid Dona and Mira whenever they asked you to hang out because you wanted to wallow by yourself in peace.

You’d lay on your bed, curled up all day, checking your phone and going through your messages with him, sometimes catching him online and fight the urge to send him a text.

Mira and Dona were your best friends and you loved them, but they never gave you that feeling that Ran gave you.

He was like a drug, and though you’d never done drugs, you felt like an addict. Couldn’t go a day without thinking about him and what he was doing.

You slowly didn’t like the person you were turning into, the girl that abandoned her friends and family because she was depressed and needed that boost of serotonin that only Ran could provide.

Perhaps Ran was that male figure you so desperately craved for in life that when he left you just spiralled.

Shion still has no clue on why you were spiralling so badly. You never told him anything, such an unhealthy habit of yours to keep your feelings bottled in, then once the pot overflowed it became too overwhelming and you exploded.

Maybe when you get back with his car, he’ll ask you about it.

He glanced at the clock one more time. Still midnight.

Grabbing his phone, he decided to track his car, see where its at. Technically it’s not creepy or weird to track you. He’s tracking his car. Not you. You just happen to be inside his car.

Besides, he needs to soothe that niggling feeling inside his mind telling him you probably got lost, kidnapped, or crashed his car and died.

It stated the car, parked a location of what seemed to be a penthouse, had been parked for the last eight hours. He paused and zoomed into the location, cursing the Google Maps app for showing the satellite view instead of street view. He has no clue where this house is or who it belongs to.

Part of him wants to say Ran, but the other part rejects it, not wanting to be faced with that truth just yet. Who else do you know that lives in a penthouse? Could be Dona, he thinks, she lives in a penthouse also. But Dona hates you, and he’s sure you might hate her back.

Shion saved the address in his mind and dialed Hiro, hoping you gave him a call.

The first thing he heard when he answered the phone was a low grumble. “What the hell do you want?”

Shion relaxed further into his bed, his hands laced behind his head. “An attitude already huh?”

Shion could practically picture what peeved facial expression Hiro might’ve been wearing on his face through the exasperated sigh he let out.

“It’s bad enough you put me in this damn hospital. Now you’re not even letting me get some sleep?”

“I already apologised for that. Get over it.”

“You broke my ribs, you piece of shit,” Hiro growled.

Shion yawned. “It’s fixed now isn’t it?”

“Fuck you.”

Shion fought back his eye roll and sat upright. “Have you spoken to your sister lately?”

“No. Why? Did she find out your stupid plan and now you think I told her?”

“No she didn’t find anything out and she won’t. Keep your mouth shut and I won’t break your other ribs. It’s just that she hasn’t come home yet; it’s been 8 hours.” Shion peered over towards the clock, the number moving from 00:59 to 01:00. “Never mind, 9 hours now.”

“I swear to God if something happened to my sister and its your fault Shion I’ll—”

“Guess you don’t know anything then,” Shion sighed. “This was a waste of time. G’night.”

“Wait! If you find her tell her to call m—”

Shion hung up the phone before Hiro could finish his sentence. Hiro looked down at his phone in disbelief. He wasn’t surprised, more irritated instead. He hoped you were okay but at the same time you had a track record of disappearing for no reason and ending up fine. Maybe this was another one of your episodes.

His phone moved to your contact, looking at your messages, Big Sis offline and decided to text you for himself.

~*~

You couldn’t sleep.

Tossing and turning in Ran’s big comfy sheets did almost nothing to help. You tried everything in the book to try get your body to shut down and sleep but nothing worked. Your brain hyper active and flipping through the memories of earlier today, the kisses you shared earlier, his lingering scent still wafting around the bedroom, his voice that you missed so much.

He’s been gone for six hours now and yet your thoughts went back to only him and his wickedly talented mouth.

Your phone buzzed, the room lighting up as Hiro’s name flashed across your screen from the dresser. Slapping uselessly around for the device, you fumbled with it until he held the phone the right way up just in time to see another notification.

2 New Messages: Hiro

Where are you?

Do I need to file another missing persons report?

You hesitated, wondering briefly if you should tell the truth. Nah, it’ll cause more harm than good. You pressed your chin into the soft black pillow case as your brain thought of rapidfire excuses that would explain your disappearance.

Sent: HIRO HI! Hows hospital food? Want me to bring you something instead?

Too much. Way too much, you thought but sent the message anyway. You could practically hear the nagging voice of your therapist abroad telling you that deflecting was never the answer and you should confront your issues head on for the healthiest recovery.

Hiro could read you like an open book, even through text and it was scary.

Hiro:

Stop deflectingg. Where are you?

Sent: don’t worry im fine. How are your injuries? Rib healing ok?

Hiro:

You’re with ran arent you?

You paused and stared at the text. For a solid second you were sure your heart actually sank and you hated how perceptive your younger brother could be at times.

Sent: how pathetic do u think i am? Im insulted hiro -_-

Hiro:

Im insulted you think im this stupid

Whatever man as long as youre safe

Hes taking care of you right?

Sent: yes. He is.

Hiro: kk thats good

Sent: youre really not mad? I feel bad

Hiro: kinda relived ngl.

Sent: why’s that??

Hiro: nothing dont worry. Dont tell shion though i doubt he wil have the same reaction i did. Stay safe

Sent: ill come see you this weekend i promise. I love you

Hiro: lyt

You sighed in relief once you turned your phone off. Knowing Hiro was happy with your decision felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders. Honestly you weren’t expecting this to go so well, fully expecting some type of drama to happen, Hiro yelling at you for seeing Ran after you promised you would stay away from him.

You lifted the blanket, pulling them over your body and closed your eyes, finally drifting off to sleep.

~*~

The next morning, Mira woke up next to an empty bed as usual. It’d been a regular occurrence by now so she wasn’t phased by it, still there was a little twinge in her heart every morning that she refused to acknowledge.

She quickly got herself ready for the day and headed downstairs to the kitchen to prepare for the event this evening. She opened up her Macbook and gathered all the recipes.

An hour into cooking, her doorbell rang. She quickly washed the dried dough on her hands, wiped them dry, then walked over to the door. Dona was there, rubbing her wrists and admiring the outside decór outside the Tachibana residency.

Mira lived in the suburbs, from the looks of it in a nice neighbourhood. Probably a cliché, Dona thought.

Dona lived in the city, the busy bustling city where you’re woken up by the loud honking horns rather than peaceful birds.

Her dream was to get married, have kids and live in a similar area like Mira’s neighbourhood. She’s twenty six now and isn’t even close to accomplishing her dream.

Step one + two get married was a bust, men were practically afraid of her. She likes having the reputation of being icy cold, after all it was the only way you could be taken seriously in her industry.

If you were too soft, delicate and emotional you were considered a weak link.

Plus she’s a woman and most men she encounters already don’t take her seriously.

She has a reputation to uphold, her cold nature spread around like wildfire, plus being close to the executives in Bonten didn’t hurt for a little extra credit to her reputation too. People take her more seriously now, men and women.

Also being Izana’s cousin also helped with getting connections. His death brought her closer to Mikey, the two of them using each other as a coping mechanism. It was her idea to use Izana’s earring as Bonten’s logo, an idea that resonated deeply with Mikey.

Dona could never live in a neighbourhood like this as much as he desperately wants to. Her job relies her being out all the time meaning there’s barely any free time for her to sleep in and just relax. This neighbourhood is more like a community, meaning if anything goes down, it’ll be hard to cover anything up with so many eyewitnesses peeking out of their windows.

“Dona! You came!” Mira clamped her arms around Dona’s neck, pulling her in for another hug. “Come come, you can help me prepare for the party!”

Dona was ushered inside, Mira moving past her to lock the front door. The house was modern, a big living room space and Dona envisioned kids running around the place. She briefly remembers how excited Mira was to have kids and get married, settle down with the man of her dreams. The kitchen was just as big as the living room, shiny black marble on the walls and counter tops, plenty of room for them to get everything prepared.

The time was 9 in the morning and the two of them had to get everything prepared before five pm. It was a huge party, loads of baked goods as well as home cooked meals. Mira considered herself a good cook and prided herself in her cooking. Naoto loves it and can’t wait to finish a long day of interrogating and investigating just to come home and enjoy his fiancé’s cooking.

With an extra helping hand, Mira managed to finish an hour before the party started, giving her time to start preparing everything before Naoto and his co-workers came home. They set the food in the garden in warming trays, put a cooler outside for the alcohol and only fifteen minutes before hte aprty started did they both finally have time to themselves.

Mira flopped onto the couch exhausted, an exaggerated yawn leaving her mouth. “I’m beat. My feet are killing me!” She turns onto her back and kicks off her fluffy slipper boots.

“You did an amazing job. They’re all gonna love it.” Dona walked over to the unlit fireplace, looking at the picture frames stacked on top. She picked up a photo of Mira and Naoto, his hand resting on the flat of her back as they both smiled into the camera. “Is this Naoto?”

Mira rolled her head to the side to look at the photo in her hands. “Yup! That’s him!”

“How’d you guys meet?”

“My roommate in college was studying criminology. Naoto was in her class so I met him through her. We spent more time together and started dating in…2012? I think. Something like that.” Mira practically had hearts in her eyes as she spoke about him.

She really was in love.

“I really want to meet him,” Dona said, putting the photo back down.

Unknown to Mira, Dona actually met Naoto before, but it was one sided.

Back when Bonten was forming, Naoto had been on their tails, always causing them troubles with his investigations.

Their warehouses got raided so much because they didn’t have the manpower to fully protect, defend and hide their tracks. Dona and Sanzu were assigned to keep an eye out to see any suspicious activity coming from the Tokyo Police Department (TPD).

She’d never had an actual conversation with Naoto, only observing him from afar and planting fake evidence to throw his entire investigation in the bin, leaving them to start from scratch.

“I want you to meet him too!” Mira chirped.

She sat up swiftly when she heard the front gate open. Dona blinked and Mira was gone, already zooming towards the door, opening it and launching herself towards Naoto.

He stumbled back on impact but held her tight, putting his briefcase down to probably embrace her. He put her back on the ground and gave her a kiss on the lips, the giddiness rolling of Mira in waves as she kissed him back just as eagerly.

Dona felt a little twitch of jealousy residing in her, wondering if she’ll ever get to experience this kind of love. Being raised in the Kurokawa household, love, care and affection was practically non-existent.

Since a young age of five she was abandoned by her parents, forced to live with foster parents who tried their best to teach her love and empathy but she was too much of a demon child.

She was in and out of the foster care system her whole childhood. Her parents were cold, narcissistic and manipulative people who barely cared about each other yet alone their daughter.

When Dona was ten, she found Izana and the two found out they were cousins. Since then they’ve stuck to each other like glue.

Izana’s death affected Dona in ways nobody could understand. It took you and Mira almost two years to melt that icy exterior she had built up as a product of her childhood and Izana’s death only brought it up back. She wasn’t herself anymore, truly feeling nothing but loneliness.

Ran helped her through it, after all they both lost someone they truly cared about.

Maybe it wasn’t the most appropriate thing to catch feelings for her best friend’s boyfriend but Dona was nothing but selfish, the lack of stability in her life led her to prioritise her own needs and wants in a way to regain a sense of control over her own life.

Her feelings mattered the most above all. In her mind she started harbouring resentment towards you whenever you’d complain that Ran’s pissed you off again and the two of you are back on break, or when the two of you would get back together after going a whole month of no contact.

It was fucking annoying seeing you take him for granted. Even now as she looks at Naoto and Mira, she feels resentment rather than joy for her friend finally finding her lifelong partner.

Kakucho’s recommended therapy to her many times to which she shut that option down almost every time. Kakucho’s been to a couple therapists, liking talking about his feelings to someone now that he doesn’t have Izana around anymore. He knows therapy works and he feels himself becoming a better person and only hopes Dona could put her pride aside and admit she needs to get some help.

“Baby come come I want you to meet my best friend!” Mira dragged him inside, kicking the door closed behind her. “Naoto this is Dona. Dona this is Naoto.”

Naoto extended his hand out, polite and formal and shook Dona’s hand. “Wonderful to meet you.”

“You too.” Dona smiled awkwardly, retreating her hand away almost instantaneously.

“I finished cooking! Are your friends on their way?”

Naoto sighed and turned to face his fiancé. “Baby I’m sorry but something came up and they had to go on a mission together. So the party has to be rescheduled.” His heart nearly broke into pieces when he saw the excitement on Mira’s face slowly wash away as she came to the realisation that she wasted a whole day cooking.

“Really? Aw, okay.” Mira’s shoulders slumped. She looked up at Dona and frowned. “I’m sorry you went through all this for nothing. I wasted your day.”

“No. No it’s fine,” Dona reassured. “I had fun today. Don’t stress.”

“Baby,” Naoto called, getting Mira’s attention. “If you want we can give the food to our neighbours. You know they love your cooking.”

Mira slowly nodded, still disappointed but at least the food won’t go to waste. “Alright, I’ll start packaging them into containers. You two stay here and talk. I want my two favourite people to get to know each other.” Mira said leaving no room for discussion and left the living room.

Dona swung her arms awkwardly as Naoto took his blazer off and settled on the couch. “So…what do you do?” she asked, trying to make conversation. “I heard something about a promotion?”

Naoto shook his head. “My co-wokers is getting a promotion not me. I’m a detective in the Tokyo Police Department. My promotion was a year ago.”

“Oh! Congratulations. Policing and detective work must be a pretty challenging job huh?”

Naoto nodded. “It has its moments yeah. I meet some assholes on a daily basis but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

Dona moved to sit on the armchair next to the couch Naoto is sitting on and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “I heard there’s a pretty big case going on in the TPD lately. Something about that criminal group on the news every two business days haha.” Her laugh was nothing but fake, Naoto could sense it but chalked it up to her being an awkward individual.

Something about Dona seemed off though, he couldn’t quite put a pin on it. Briefly, his eyes searched her body exposed from her clothing to see if there was any tattoos. Bonten members have tattoos to differentiate ranks. All the executives he knows of so far have a tattoo that matched Izana’s necklace on a part of their body, mostly on a recognisable body part.

Manjiro Sano has his on the back of his neck.

Sanzu Haruchiyo has his on his arm.

The Haitani Brothers, a more recent breakthrough, have theirs on their throat.

Those are the only members he knows so far. Dona so far has no visible tattoos and he doesn’t want to be seen as a pervert by asking his fiancé’s best friend if she could take her clothes off for a search. So he drops it.

Dona had a feeling he was onto her with the way he was observing her and praised herself for wearing a long shirt that covers her stomach where her tattoo is.

“Yes, that’s correct. Bonten has been a priority for the department lately,” Naoto said finally.

“Oh wow. That sounds incredibly dangerous. I hope nobody gets hurt, I know how dangerous they can be. What have they found out?” Naoto looked on guard so she quickly added on, “I’m a huge fan of true crime. Watch it every day at home. It’s really cool.”

Naoto softened a little bit more and exhaled. “I’m sorry Dona but I’m not allowed to go into too much detail about on ongoing investigation. Confidentially and all.”

Dona nodded understandingly. “Of course, I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just that it must be so intriguing, the way you police-men deal with these criminals.”

“It can be yes, but its also a lot of hard work and long hours. I sometimes hate coming home late and entering the house to see Mira asleep. I barely spend time with her.” The constant questioning of Bonten had him feeling uncomfortable so he tested the waters and switched topics back onto Mira. If Dona wasn’t shady, she’d accept the topic had moved on and leave it alone.

“Poor Mira.” Dona paused for a second and Naoto watched her, observing her. “Do you ever worry about the risks involved? I know Bonten doesn’t play by the rules.”

He knew it. Clearing his throat, he says, “I won’t deny that there are risks but we’re trained for a reason. Our duty is to protect the city and the people.” He stood up from the couch and dusted his clothes. “If you’ll excuse me I have to get changed. It was nice meeting you again.”

“You too!” The second Naoto’s back was turned away from her, her smile fell and she pulled out her phone. Since her evening plans was ruined, she has to find something else to do. She texted Rindou and asked where he is.

~*~

Dona has no idea how she ended up running into you on the street but after exchanging a few words the two of you expressed how you both have nothing to do, you both found yourself wandering the streets together.

Rindou finally responded to her text, stating he was at Starlight Mirage, one of the hostess clubs owned by Bonten. The idea of Rindou being there with a bunch of pretty girls clinging to him only pissed her off, the horny fuckers but she responded I’ll be there and turned her phone off.

You were sipping on your drink when you saw Dona look up from her phone and begin walking in the other direction. “Wait! Wait hold up!” You jogged to catch up with her, holding her arm to keep her in place. “Where're you going?”

“To a club. Let go.” She shook her arm trying to rid you of it but you held tighter.

“What club? Is it far?”

“A club we own. Now let go,” she said a bit harsher. You let go and kept your hands to your side, mumbling sorry. You made it about two steps when she stopped you with an abrupt call of your name. When you faced her, she had her eyes squeezed shut, lips pressed tight as if mentally preparing herself for what she was doing. “Do you want to come with me?”

You had to scoop your jaw off the floor as wondered why she’s asking you to join her. “What?”

“Don’t make me change my mind,” she said flatly.

“I thought you hated me?”

She shrugged. “You hate me too. What’s the big deal?”

“I don’t hate you Dona. I never did,” you admitted quietly. Dona observed you for a second before sighing.

“You coming or not?”

You weren’t one to turn down an invitation. You closed the distance and began walking beside her. She had her hands pressed up to her chest as if protecting herself from the chilly breeze.

“Wait.” You both came to a pause on the busy street and she turned to look at you, eyebrow raised. “You said we’re going to a hostess club right?”

“Yeah? What, you’ve never been?”

You shook your head. “Is this outfit okay?” You gestured to your rather plain outfit, a simple band tee and jeans. Dona pressed her lips tightly and shook her head slowly.

“Not in the slightest.” She pivoted her head to see if there was an appropriate store to enter and buy you something. “You got money on you?” You reached inside your pocket and pulled out a few bills, a small amount of change barely enough to buy you a meal. She slapped her forehead. “Of course.”

“Hey!”

She ignored you and continued looking around before eyeing a store across the street. It wasn’t something she’d normally go to for dresses, finding the clothes rather cheap looking but desperate times calls for desperate measures.

The store was playing pop music when you both entered and she told you to pick a dress so she could buy it for you and the both of you could keep on moving.

It’s been fifteen minutes and you still haven’t picked something out yet. You’ve been wandering through the aisles, trying to figure out what to get, what might fit, what might look ugly. Part of you was subconsciously trying to pick something you think Ran might like. Ran likes short clothing mainly, wants to see every inch of your skin exposed, but if he were to choose something long, he’d make sure it had a thigh slit somewhere just so he has access.

“Oh my god hurry up! You’re taking forever!” Dona exclaimed, checking her phone for the time.

“I’m sorry! I’m just very picky when it comes to clothes!” You’d been oogling between the short dress and the long dress for the last two minutes. Out of options, you grabbed both of them and showed Dona. “Pick one.”

Dona gave you a ‘seriously?’ look and you nodded eagerly, excited to see which one she chose for you. Rolling her eyes she pointed at the shorter one and you gave the staff the long dress to hang back up and approached the counter. Dona brought out her black card and bought the dress for you. As the receipt was printing, she told you to go and change into it.

You both exited the shop and made your way towards the club.

~*~

The room was glowing red when you entered. You instantly spotted Rindou seated at the bar with a drink in his hand, exchanging small talk with the bartender as well as another man you never seen before. He had broad shoulders and chest and a goatee. Dona left you behind at the door and walked up to Rindou, surprising him from behind.

You felt awkward where you stood; none of the men inside the room noticing your presence. Ran was sitting on the couch, his head faced downwards as his attention was absorbed by his phone, engaging in a long text chain with a client. You slowly approached the couch from behind and covered his eyes with your hands, bending low to whisper in his ear, “Guess who?”

His lips curved into a smirk as he instantly recognised your voice despite the soft whisper and tilted his head back to meet your gaze. “Baby, what’re you doing here,” he asked, holding a hand out to guide you around the couch.

Once you were in front of him, he tugged you to sit down next to him. Your ass hit the plush seat and he lifted your legs to swivel around his lap so you were sitting sideways on the couch.

His hand found itself on your thighs and you clenched them subconsciously at the feeling of his big hand caressing your thigh.

Mentally, you thanked Dona for picking the short dress just so you can feel more of his touch.

“I ran into Dona on the street and she was on her way here,” you told him, trying to ignore the way your stomach was doing backflips. He hummed in agreement and you felt the rumble travel through your body.

Before you could fully get comfortable, a girl walked into the room, readjusting her hoop earrings. “Ran-ran are you ready…?” she coo’d. She was dressed in a lingerie dress with black heels that stopped once she saw you on his lap. “Who the hell are you?”

“I—uh—”

“Not today baby,” Ran said,tilting his head backwards to get a look at her past your body. His hand on your waist squeezed a little tighter when he felt you squirm a little, clearly uncomfortable under her stare.

“But…but you promised last time it was my turn with you,” she said with a pout, her glare not leaving your frame.

You turned to look at Ran who looked apathetic about the situation and the words left your mouth despite how hard you tried to keep them at bay. “You can go if you want to.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

Trick question you thought, and you remember your own words from just the other week. No strings attached. It pained you to nod your head slowly, your neck feeling stiff but you powered through it.

Shifting off his lap, you awkwardly sat on the couch as Ran stood up, dusting his clothes. The girl smiled deviously and latched onto Ran’s arm as the two of them left the room. You pouted and crossed your arms over your chest, feeling petty and bitter about the whole situation.

“You lonely?” A deep voice comes from behind you.

Tilting your head back, you see the same guy from before standing behind you. You shrugged, not in the mood for conversation right now.

He slowly rounded the couch and plopped on the other end, giving you space since he sensed you wanted it. “I’m Mochi by the way. I don’t think we’ve met before.”

You told him your name and went back to pouting.

“If you want me to leave, say so and I will.”

“No…it’s fine.” You sighed and turned to face him. “Sorry Mochi was it?”

He chuckled. “Forgot my name already?”

“No I’m good with names usually I swear. I’m just…I dunno.” You casted a quick glance over to the door Ran exited from and wondered what exactly they were doing right now. The answer felt obvious to you, what else does a girl wearing lingerie want, but you were in denial.

“Distracted? What’s on your mind? Normally when I’m distracted I take something.”

“Take something as in drugs?” You peeked at him. He slowly nodded his head.

“You’ve never done before?”

“Few times. Not often though.”

“It’s no wonder you look stressed.” He stood from the couch. “Bare with me. I’ll need to grab something from upstairs. Stay here?”

“Okay.” You watched him leave the room and return less than five minutes later with a box in his hands, Sanzu walking in beside him. He had his hands tucked in his pockets, a sardonic smile on his face as he met your eyes.

“Hey! It’s you!” he called out pointing at you and catching the attention of everyone else in the room. For the first time tonight, Rindou met your eyes and you instantly looked away, unsure how to handle the intensity of his stare.

Sanzu stood in front of you on the couch and peered down at you. “Mochi said you wanted me to hook you up with something. But I don’t know how Ran would feel about me hooking his bitch up with substances,” he finished, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

“First of all,” you stood up from the couch to meet his eye better. “I’m not a bitch. Don’t call me that. And I’m not his bitch. Secondly, I don’t care how Ran feels. I don’t belong to him, I can do what I want.”

Sanzu paused for a second, his eyebrows rose with shock. “And she bites. You just got even hotter in my book baby.”

You rolled your eyes and sat back down, readjusting your dress on the way. “What drugs do you have?”

Sanzu extended his hand out for you to grab. You took it and he led you towards the table in the back corner of the room, Mochi following behind the two of you. The two men sat down on either side of you, sandwiching you between their bodies. It made you uncomfortable but at the same time excited you because for some reason, you weren’t scared of these two guys even though you should be. Their closeness calmed you, like a hot bath on a cold night. If only Ran was there too.

“So Mochi," Sanzu started as Mochi set the little box on the table, "which girl do you plan taking home tonight? I saw this one bitch earlier, she had a tongue piercing. So sexy. You barely see that shit 'round here unless they're on some freaky shit."

Mochi shook his head, a mischievous grin lighting up his face. “Nah I know who you're talking about. She's too skinny for me. Like my women big and curvy."

"Like big tits or big elsewhere?" Sanzu inquired.

You rolled your eyes, fighting back the urge to cover your ears as the two of them spoke about women like that. Your ears were burning and you huffed, watching Sanzu reach for the box and begin pulling out each item separately. First came liquid methadone in a small glass bottle, then a lighter followed by a pipe, and finally two more small bottles containing pills and strips of paper.

Sanzu separated the pills into four piles; 1, 3, 5, and 10 milligrams and showed them to you.

“These are different doses depending on what type of high you want to get. Top pill is 10mg, this next one here is 5mg and so on. The black bag there contains amphetamines and opiates to treat the comedown after a good hit."

“Uh okay, sure. Whatever that means.” You replied as he began tearing off the labels. When you asked for drugs these weren't the type of drugs you were expecting. You expected marijuana or something, that's the only drug you were comfortable doing by yourself. Not this...hardcore stuff.

"Do you um have anything less intense?" You turned to your right and already saw Sanzu with his sleeve up, injecting himself in his arm with a needle.

"No." He snapped at you, turning back around. You could tell he didn't like being questioned but this was the most real answer you'd gotten so far.

The needle pierced through his skin and you flinched in spite of yourself.

"Let me guess, you haven't done any hard drugs before and are nervous about it." Sanzu eyed you carefully. You nodded and he sighed loudly, rolling his sleeve back down and passing the vial to Mochi. "You see this is why I said Ran wouldn't be pleased about this."

Mochi rolled his eyes. "Who cares." He closed the vial and put it back in the box, setting it aside.

Sanzu leaned forward in his chair and pointed the tip of his finger at you, poking you lightly in the chest. "Remember, you're a grown ass woman and you can do whatever the fuck you want to do." You could tell whatever he injected into himself started to get to him as he got that dazed look in his eyes.

"I know I'm grown. That doesn't mean I can't be nervous still though." You felt self conscious of yourself now, knowing you looked ridiculous sitting across the table from these two men as they popped bottles of pills, played with needles, and even lit a joint. "Which do you reccomened for a beginner to try?" you asked Sanzu and Mochi who began thinking deeply.

Mochi hovered his hand around the litany of drugs on the table and picked up the smallest pile of white pills. "This is Valium, It'll calm you down and make you relaxed."

Sanzu shook his head. "No you idiot. Don't give that to her." Sanzu began grabbing for the stack of pills, all stacked up neatly in a triangle shape. He grabbed for a pinkish colored pill, tossing it over to you. "This is Vicodin. It's stronger than valium and will give you a better high overall. Also, its effect lingers longer than valium so if you use it sparingly it won't leave you feeling down after a while." He takes the pill from Mochi's hands and puts it in his palm, holding both palms out towards you. "Choose babygirl."

You hesitated. Maybe you shouldn't do this...but you also really wanted to. Afterall, you were bored. "Vicodin please."

Sanzu nodded and handed Mochi the Valium pill. "Open up," he said softly at you. He gripped your chin and you opened your mouth wide for him to place the pill inside. It slipped down your throat easily. He pulled away, pushing his fingers towards the back of your head to force you to look him in the eye.

"Do you feel alright?" he asked you quietly, stroking your cheek gently.

"I don't feel any different..." you told him honestly. You just sat there and waited to see what happened next. Nothing seemed to happen at first, other than the ringing in your ears beginning to fade. "So how long until it kicks in?" you mumbled to him.

Sanzu stared at you. "Give it about thirty minutes. If not then an hour." He clapped his hands together loudly, the sound startling you and making you jump. "I feel mines kicking in already." He gave you another smile, looking almost proud.

The two of them started talking about something you didn't care about again and you zoned them out, focusing on seeing if you felt any different. Ten...fifteen minutes pass and you feel the same. Finally, thirty minutes later you started to feel like something had changed. It was subtle, but you knew it was happening. The world became clearer and things around you started to move slightly slower than before. Everything around you seemed sharper and you could sense colors vibrating on the edge of your vision. Your brain felt clearer too, your thoughts getting more straight and concise. All you could think about was the feeling of this clean, smoothness pulsing in your body.

Conversation flowed smoothly between the three of you and you began having fun, you felt more animated and extroverted. Eventually, you were a little too buzzed to carry on a normal conversation and fell asleep on the couch. You woke up around ten minutes later with a tap on your shoulder. Looking up, you saw Ran standing over you, concerned at the state of you.

He squatted down in front of you, pressing his palm on your forehead. "You don't have a fever. You tired or something?" he asked, removing his hand from your forehead to rest on his knees. You blinked slowly at him, realizing you were tired and sore, feeling rather sluggish.

Now that your eyes were fully open, you noticed the teeny tiny fading love bite on the corner of his jaw and frowned. "I'm fine," you said snappily, pushing your legs off the couch and stood upright. Your legs were tingly and felt like thousands of needles were stabbing you from the inside and vowed to never take a pill from Sanzu again.

"Ah she's awake!" Sanzu called out from his corner of the room. He was sitting at a table playing cards with a few more people that you don't recognise. A simple look around the room confirmed Dona and Rindou had left.

Sanzu waved you over and you didn't hesitate leaving Ran's side, too mad at him to stay by him and walked over to Sanzu. "This is Benkei and Wakasa." He introduced each person and you nodded politely.

"I hope we didn't wake you," Benkei said smiling at you.

You shook your head pointed at Ran with your thumb who was now standing behind you. His chest against your back so suddenly almost startled you, but you kept your composure. His arm snaked around your shoulders possessively when he caught Wakasa's lingering eyes on your form and subtly pulled you closer towards him.

"She's still high," Sanzu snickered, pointing at you and taking a swig of his beer.

"What?" Ran asked and turned you to face him. He held your face up and examined you carefully. Your eyes were puffy and red and looked a bit glassy as well, you were clearly intoxicated. "Was gone for half an hour and you already got her popping pills," he directed his statement at Sanzu who smiled widely at you.

You rolled your eyes at him and pushed his hands off your face. "What do you care anyway? And you were gone for longer than that."

"You counted or something? What difference does it make?" Ran countered.

"None," you huffed and crossed your arms. You turned back around and took the seat between Sanzu and Benkei, ignoring the way Sanzu peered back at Ran, grinning even wider than before and readjusted his seat further into the table. "How do you play this game? Cards is it?"

Wakasa picked up the deck and placed it in your lap. "Let me show you," he said softly, handing you the deck of cards and giving you a soft smile.

Rindou re-entered the room with Dona behind him, the two of them calling Ran over. He was hesitant to leave you by yourself with the three men, but decided to give you your space because he could tell you were angry at him right now.

Dona reached up and hugged Ran once he approached the two of them. "Hey, you okay?" she asked, noticing tense he looked.

Rindou looked around the room, his eyes locking in on the sight of Wakasa standing next to you, bent downwards to talk into your ear as he explained and taught you how to play cards.

"Oh," he breathed softly before bursting into laughter. "Your girl got stolen huh?"

Ran shook his head and slouched against the wall. "We all know who she's gonna run back to at the end of the day." The funny part is that he wasn't lying. Rindou knows that, Dona knows that, Ran definitely knows that and even you do. Rindou and Dona have been far too acquainted with that fact on many occasions.

"You're so cocky it's sick," Dona mimes gagging. "For my own entertainment I hope she runs off with Wakasa."

"Don't be like that Dona." Ran dug into his pocket, pulling out some extra notes he had laying around and held it in front of her. "Go get yourself laid and release all that stress."

"I'm not stressed!"

"Yeah right," Rindou laughed, ignoring the way Dona redirected her glare to him. "When's the last time you got laid?"

Dona crossed her arms and shrugged. "Like a few months ago. I dunno."

"Damn, no wonder you're bitchy tonight," Mochi said from the couch.

"You wanna see bitchy?" Dona strode forward and dumped her leftover glass of beer on top of his head.

Ran and Rindou started cackling at the sight of a wet Mochi and Dona tossed the empty glass on the floor, walking back over to Ran and taking the cash from his hands. "Fuck maybe you're right. I do need to get laid."

"Have fun yeah." Ran slapped her ass as she went past him, yelping at the sting and pouting before walking out of the room.

"You think she has any luck?" Rindou asked, moving to stand opposite his brother.

"Men here are desperate. They'll pay their life savings just to see a pretty girls panties."

"Don't act like women aren't the same either. They'll strip to the floor at the sight of both you two idiots," Mochi said as he approached them, wiping the remaining beer from his face with a towel.

"As they should." Ran grinned.

“Go take a shower man, you stink,” Rindou grumbled at Mochi.

"Speaking of strip I want my girl back now.” Ran lifted himself off the walls standing up straight “I'll be back gentleman."

By now, Waka had returned back to his seat opposite you as the four of you played cards, Sanzu currently winning three games in a row. You tried to concentrate on the game but every now and then, Benkei would rest his hand on your leg and his fingers would brush across your skin, sending tingles down your spine.

Ran strode towards you, his voice startling you by your ear. "C'mon baby lemme take you home." You leaned your head back, wanting to look him in the eye, and caught sight of his cheekbones, high forehead and nose before your eyes drifted downward to those full lips. You nodded without hesitation and he held his hand out, helping you slip out of the chair.

"Aw man you're going home already?" Waka exaggerated his disappointment as you slipped away. "You didn't even finish this game."

"I wasn't going to win anyway," you responded back before slipping your arms through Ran's blazer that he took off himself to hand to you. You mouthed a thank you to him and he pressed a kiss to your forehead, grabbing your bag and holding it close to him.

By the time you returned home, it was almost 2 in the morning. You phone had died earlier in the day, missing all of Shion's calls and texts. Ran parked his car outside Shion's apartment complex and rode the elevator up with you. You rang the doorbell, your brain too sluggish to attempt and use your keys.

Shion opened the door and almost immediately glared at Ran. If Ran was surprised to see Shion, he didn't show it; a subtle eyebrow raise that was blind to everyone's eye.

You stumbled inside the house, mumbling that you're sleepy. You beelined straight for the bedroom, collapsing on the bed. Meanwhile, Shion stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind him. "What the fuck did you do to her?"

"Me?" Ran shrugged and shook his head. "Nothing."

"She's drunk! Or high or whatever! I swear to God if you did something Ran, I'll—"

"You'll what? Kill me? With what."

Shion pulled out a gun he kept in his pants and pointed it at his forehead. The action meant to be threatening yet, the expression on Ran's face remained unphased.

"Ooh, where'd you get that. That's illegal in Japan, ya know?" Ran noticed the safety was still on.

"I have connections you dumbass. Don't bother asking. You're not getting an answer."

"Kill me then," Ran suggested. "Just a pull on a trigger and all your problems and insecurities will be solved." Shion's brow furrowed as he contemplated it. Ran leaned forward, his voice lowering to a whisper. "Just know if you do, might as well kiss any chance you got with her away. She'll hate you forever and you know that."

"You don't know shit."

"Really?" Ran smiled, taking the opportunity to lean closer to Shion. "I'm not a theorist but..." Ran grabbed the gun easily from Shion's hands and Shion watched in confusion as he removed the safety and put the gun back in Shion's hands. Ran grabbed Shion's wrist and repositioned the gun back at his forehead. "Go on shoot me. Prove my theory wrong. It's a clean shot. Go on," he goaded.

Shion's breathing got heavier for a moment before his eyes cleared, a stern expression on his face. The anger on his face diminished as he put his arm down, letting it fall limp to his sides.

"Exactly," Ran spat, dusting down his suit. "I'll be taking this." He snatched the gun from Shion's hands, pocketing it in his own waistband before patting Shion on the head condescendingly, taking advantage of the clear height difference. "Can't be letting little boys run around here wtih one of these. They're dangerous y'know?"

"Get the fuck out before I call the police," Shion growled.

"How adorable. Relying on police to save your ass." Ran sighed, shaking his head disappointedly. "Tell her I'll see her tommorow yeah?" Shion glared at him and waited for Ran to walk towards the elevator before re-entering his house. He walked towards the bedroom where he knows you'd be. He saw you laying on the bed, half asleep, half awake and flopped down beside you.

“You awake?” he called quietly in a whisper.

You grumbled a noise in response, sounding like a yes and no. Shion took a moment before saying, “Who would you pick? Me or him?” He was met with silence. He shifted a little closer to you and called your name again, met with more silence.

Must’ve fallen asleep, he thought, ignoring that nagging part of him thinking how weirdly coincidental that was but left the room anyway, leaving you to sleep. The second the door shut you opened your eyes and frowned. Deep down you knew the answer to that, but the question made you feel so awkward it was best to avoid. But you had a feeling he’d ask you about it again in the morning.

Meanwhile, Shion pulled out his phone and texted Dona that the plan failed, Ran is hanging out you again. She doesn’t respond instantly like she normally does so Shion understandingly gets frustrated. He scrolled through his contacts when he found someone to text.

Shion: I need a favour

He responded back almost instantly.

Hanma Shuji: how cute of you to text me at 2am. Maybe if you beg ill be able to grant your wish

Shion: don’t make this fucking weird can we meet later or not?

Hanma Shuji: what’s in it for me? Im a busy man

Shion: You get to piss off Ran Haitani. Thats what.

Hanma Shuji: interesting…

Hanma Shuji: You got yourself a deal.

pls lmk how you found this chapter!!! i was trying a new writing style so if you could tell me if you enjoyed it or not that'll rlly help my writing and motivation thank you guyssss !!!

masterlist

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#—tr </3 #series : wasted times #ran x reader #haitani ran x reader #ran haitani x reader #sanzu x reader #haitani ran smut #sanzu haruchiyo x reader #ran smut #tokyorev x reader #tokrev x reader #ran haitani smut #ran haitani

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