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multifandomfanficss · 22 days

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Never Listen To Venkman

Egon Spengler x Reader

(With platonic!Peter Venkman)

Prompt: When you and Peter are left alone to experiment with a suspicious, blue, viscous slime, things go south and Egon comes home to you having a paranormal induced panic attack.

Warnings: panic attacks, autistic meltdowns, sensory issues, detailed descriptions of sensory issues, feeling uncomfortable in one’s own skin.

A/N: Back in my Ghostbusters era. It is contractually obligated that I must re-obsess every time a new movie comes out. I’ve loved Egon since I was a little kid. I can’t believe I’ve never written for him. The italics are flashbacks. This is crossposted on my AO3 adriansglasses.

The reader is intended to be autistic, but can be read any way you’d like. Anyone is allowed to relate and see themselves in the reader wether they’re autistic or not!

You were sitting at your desk with in your small shared lab with Egon in the firehouse when you heard footsteps. You thought you had been home alone until Peter walked in.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were going on a double date with Winston while Ray and Egon were at the movie.” You questioned him, putting down your pen. You had been taking notes on a new kind of slime the boys had found. It was different from the other slime they’d found last month when Vigo was trying to take over. While Vigo’s slime was pink in color, this slime was blue and had a more viscous consistency.

“Oscar had a fever, so Dana and I decided to cancel. She thinks he’s getting his first tooth.” Peter smiles. Despite the jokes he’s made and the amount of times he’s said he was nowhere near ready to be a father, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t happy being back with Dana again and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love Oscar just as much as he loved her.

“Did Winston still go?” You ask.

“Oh, yeah. He’s probably back in her apartment with the bed rocking as we speak. No way he’s coming home tonight.” Peter laughed at his own joke as you cringe.

“You’re disgusting.” You roll your eyes.

“What are you up to tonight? Got a hot date with a slime? Not too different from your usual dating life.” He chuckles.

“You’re such a dick, Venkman. I figured while everybody was out tonight I’d try to find out SOMETHING about this new slime. Egon and I have been studying it for two days and we have literally nothing.” You gesture to the blue goo on your desk.

“Do you need help?” He asks.

“Are you offering to help me on your night off?” You ask, shocked.

“I’ve got nothing better to do.” Peter shrugs.

“Are you gonna take it seriously?” You hesitate.

“I’m always serious!” Peter bluffs. Peter was never serious. Egon was always serious. His bluntness and black and white thinking had always been a comfort to you. He wasn’t some puzzle you had to figure out. He just was. Being with him wasn’t a guessing game the same way it was with Peter.

“Somehow that’s hard to believe, but I could really use your expertise in parapsychology, so I’ll say yes.” You sigh. You know this probably isn’t the best idea, but Peter knows more about this topic than you do. You’d be stupid to reject his help.

“If you’ll be the subject, I’ll run the experiment.” He says, taking out the helmet with wires.

“Okay.” You agree. Once the helmet is on you should be connected to a series of machines able to read the energy of your emotions, as well as the slime itself, giving you a more direct connection without touching. Peter starts asking you a series of questions, trying to draw different emotional responses.

“Think of a time when you were happy, really happy.” He prompts. Your mind, wandered around the room, trying to think of something, when your eyes landed on Egon’s book sitting on his desk.

It made you think of the first time you realized you had deep feelings for him. While you’d always thought he was attractive, you realized your feelings were deeper than you thought, far beyond a harmless little crush, one day when he let you borrow his book. As you read his notes in the margins you were able to analyze things like him, see the world through his eyes. You saw how his brain connected and processed things. You always liked the person he’d shown you, but writing in the margins is different. When you take notes in a book, you’re not putting on a mask for people to see. Notes in the margins are just for you. There’re your unfiltered thoughts. Seeing who Egon was when nobody was watching was different. He was funny, smart, deep, curious, not as confident as he pretended to be; he didn’t censor himself in his books. He wasn’t quiet in his books. Reading his margins felt intimate.

“You’re thinking about Spengler, aren’t you?” Venkman teases.

“Why would you say that?” You look at him, embarrassed.

“Because you’re in loooooove!” Peter mocks.

“Can we change the subject?” You practically beg.

“Think of a moment where you were uncomfortable.” Peter prompts.

“This conversation.” You fiddle with your fingers.

“No, really. I wanna see how it reacts to discomfort.”

“Fine.” You sigh. You think back to one of your many lab accidents. Working in a lab with sensory issues is never easy and that was something you and Egon both struggled with.

You think back to the day when you superglued your fingers shut by accident. You got them apart, but you couldn’t get the the residue off. You started to hyperventilate, on the verge of tears. You wanted to hit your hands on things, but you knew that wouldn’t help. You couldn’t peel off the glue without peeling off your skin.

“What’s wrong?” Egon looked at you puzzled, and a bit worried.

“Superglue! I- I- I can’t get it off!” You shake your hands, violently, your whole body is tensed up.

Egon quickly takes a bottle out from his desk drawer and runs over to you. He grabs your hands.

“Look at me, (Y/N). It’s okay. I’ll take off all the residue.” He promises, giving you a soft smile. Despite not liking seeing you in such discomfort, he forces the smile to help calm you down. He begins to massage the liquid from the bottle onto your fingers with a rag.

“See, it’s okay. It’s coming off.” He continues to speak softly, calming you.

“What is that stuff?” You ask.

“I wish I could say it’s some sort of fancy, scientific, protective disinfectant, but as it so happens it’s only nail polish remover.” You both chuckle quietly. “Janine gave it to me the last time I got superglue on something and couldn’t get it off.” He smiles down at your hands, still focused on getting the last little bit off.

“This slime is so different from the mood slime. I thought I saw it let go of a bubble, but it’s mostly doing nothing. I think it might be dead. I think it might be time to bury it in the backyard.” Peter begins to fake sob.

“Knock it off.” You laugh. “What backyard? This is Manhattan!”

“You should try touching it.” Peter suggests.

“Egon, said I should under no circumstances touch it directly, especially while he’s not here.” You inform him.

“Well Egon, is being overprotective. Nothing bad happened when everyone else touched the pink slime and I accidentally ate green slime once.” Venkman says.

“What do you mean accidentally?” You ask.

“It was our first mission. Slimer ran through me. It was a whole thing. I think you should touch it… You might be able to figure out what it is before Spengler gets back…” He tries to change your mind.

“You’re sure there were no serious side effects from touching the other slimes?” You ask, hesitantly. Egon would be annoyed if he found out you went against his pleas to keep your hands away from the plasma, but you wanted to impress him.

“Nothing serious. I grew an extra pinky, but they cut it off.” He jokes.

“Haha, very funny, Venkman.” You roll your eyes.

“Fine.” You sigh, taking a deep breath before plunging your hand into the blue viscous goo. “Oh…This is literally fine.” You feel no effect, but when your heart rate picks up you realize you spoke too soon. You fall onto the floor, knocking over the slime. You feel like your heart is racing, like it could beat out of your chest and you can’t suck enough air into your lungs. You’re terrified.

“(Y/N)!” Peter yells, rushing to the floor to help you. He tries to touch the the hand not covered in blue slime, but you push him away, sobbing. You don’t want him anywhere near you. You’re slipping away from reality into a deep state of panic and paranoia.

“Please! No!” You sob. It’s the only thing you can manage to get out. You barley recognize Peter anymore. He doesn’t feel like a friend. He feels like a threat.

“Honestly, the movie was quite terrible. Ray stopped for a 99 cent pizza on the corner. What did you- (Y/N)?!” Egon speaks as he enters the room, cutting himself off when he notices you’re in distress.

“Pete, what happened?!” Egon questions once he sees Venkman.

“We were doing an experiment and they touched the goo and they just started freaking out. They won’t let me near them.” Peter tells him, obviously shaken. You hear the two men, but you don’t process them. It’s like you’re underwater.

“This is different from their usual sensory issues. I think they’re having a panic attack.” Egon kneels in front of you. “(Y/N), you’re okay. You’re safe. You’re in the firehouse. I’m here.” He tells you slowly.

“I- I can’t breathe!” You gasp for air.

“Your lungs are expanding and contracting at a rate too fast for your body to intake oxygen. I need you to try to breathe slow and deep with me. In…and out. Nice and slow.” He prompts. “Peter, I need latex gloves and towels.” Venkman could have made multiple jokes about Egon’s command, but looking at you this way made him uneasy. It wasn’t the right time. After being handed the gloves, Egon slipped them on and got to work cleaning off your slime covered arm. You begin to sob, overwhelmed by the feeling of the slime, the latex gloves, and the towel. It was difficult to handle on top of your panic attack. “Peter, we need to get them into the decontamination shower.”

“No!” You gasp between sobs.

“Come, on. I’ll go with you. We can get all the plasma off of you.” Egon speaks softly, but with a gentle urgency, as he tries to coax you to the shower. You shake your head no. “Are you against touch right now?” He asks.

“They did not like when I touched them.” Venkman warns.

“Only you-“ You break out in a sob. It doesn’t even cross your mind that you may be offending Peter by only wanting Egon. Luckily he’s not offended. Egon begins to take off his glove to provide skin to skin contact on the arm not drenched in slime in an effort to comfort you.

“Aren’t you worried about getting that stuff on you?” Venkman questions, worried Egon will shutdown like you.

“I’m getting in the decontamination shower anyway.” Egon shrugs, turning to you. He takes your hand in his, softly rubbing the top with his thumb.

“But- but your clothes will get all wet!” You sob. You knew Egon had his own sensory issues. You’d often have to help him when his long sleeves would get wet during experiments. It would drive him crazy. He avoided puddles like the plague and always had an umbrella nearby.

“Try not to worry about me right now. I just want you to focus on your breathing. I can always change my clothes.” He smiles. While it hurts him to see you so distressed, he was happy to know you cared about his comfort. “Let’s go shower. You can’t leave all that slime on you. I believe it’s worsening your mental state.” You nod, still crying.

“I’ll get them under the shower, I’ll need you to turn it on. Make sure not to touch the slime. I got a minuscule amount on my finger and it’s making me rather anxious. I can only imagine what this amount is doing to them.” Egon tells Peter. He helps you to stand, walking your trembling form over to the shower. “There we go. Just a few more steps. You’re doing wonderfully, (Y/N).” Egon softly attempts to comfort you.

Once you’re under the shower head, Venkman turns it on. Both you and Egon jolt at the sudden water pressure. He tightens both his jaw and his grip on you, holding his eyes shut tight. He can’t stand the feeling of his wet clothes against his body, but he’s brave for you. Once adjusted to the water, Egon begins to wash the slime off your body with care. Peter leaves to go upstairs and get you some towels. You feel the panic and paranoia start to leave your body. Despite still being incredibly anxious, you were starting to phase out of your slime induced panic attack. You lean against Egon, struggling to hold your own body weight. Maybe you’ll be more embarrassed tomorrow, but right now you just needed to be held. You were craving pressure on your body. You felt as if you would float off the ground if you weren’t held down. Egon wraps his arms around you, bringing you closer. He places a kiss on your forehead before placing his chin on top of your head. You snuggled into his chest, finding his pulse. You didn’t have the time or the bandwidth in your brain to think about what the kiss meant. You just wanted to be close to him.

“You’re okay, (Y/N). You’re safe.” Egon tells you. You’re not sure if it’s for your benefit or his. It’s for both, really.

You’re quiet for most of the night, unable to bring yourself to speak. Egon doesn’t mind. He thinks a verbal shutdown is more than understandable after the night you’ve had. After the shower, you follow Egon around the fire station. You don’t want to be alone right now. He doesn’t mind. He puts out some of his clothes for you to wear; pajama pants and one of his soft sweaters. He goes to leave the room for you to change, but you stop him.

“Can- can we just like? Turn around?” You ask. “I’m sorry. If you’re uncomfortable, that’s okay. I just really don’t wanna be alone right now.” You voice is hoarse from crying.

“Of course.” He smiles, turning around.

“I’m decent.” He informs you after a minute of rustling.

“Me too.” You tell him and you both turn around.

“I’m sorry.” You tell him, near tears again. You feel awful for how tonight went. This was supposed to be the boys’ day off. Egon gives you a sad look.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. You were just trying to help. Venkman told me he put you up to it anyway.” Egon sighs.

“I probably shouldn’t have listened to him.” You let out a sad chuckle, one tear slipping past you, down your cheek. You wipe it quickly.

“Never listen to Venkman.” Egon gives a sad laugh.

“At least we figured out what the slime does… Egon, can I ask you a question?” You hesitate.

“Well, you just did, but yes.” He smiles, joking to lighten the mood. You smile at him.

“Why did you do all that? You took off your gloves, putting yourself at risk and then you put yourself through sensory hell just to get me cleaned up.” You question him.

“Isn’t it obvious? (Y/N), I care about you.” You look at him, thinking about the tone in his words. You can’t quite decipher it, but there’s something else there. Is it possible he could feel the same way about you that you feel about him? “You should get some sleep.” He interrupts your thoughts. “If you’d rather not be alone, you may sleep in my room tonight. I would find it beneficial to monitor you overnight to watch for long lasting effects, anyway.” He adds.

“Only if that’s okay with you.” You hesitate.

“Of course it’s okay with me. I just suggested it.” He smiles.

Once you’re settled into bed, Egon turns off the lights and climbs in next to you.

“Egon, I’m still anxious.” You blurt out into the dark.

“Do you need pressure?” He asks.

“Yes.” You say, hoping he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t seem to mind, as he scoops you into his arms. You cuddle into his chest, surrounded by him, surrounded by safety. You know this should be weird, but it doesn’t feel weird. As Egon kisses the top of your forehead again, bidding you goodnight, you wonder what this all means. You wonder what you are to each other. You feel you’ve crossed the line as friends, but you’re too tired and too awkward and too anxious to talk about labels. You and Egon never quite fit into boxes as people anyway. Your relationship didn’t need to either. Whatever this was between you was comforting. It was safe and it was going to help you sleep tonight.

#egon spengler #egon spengler x reader #peter venkman #peter venkman x reader #ghostbusters #ghostbusters x reader #ghostbusters fanfiction #ghostbusters fanfic #ghostbusters imagine #ghostbusters oneshot #egon spengler fanfic #Egon Spengler fanfiction #egon spengler imagines #Egon Spengler oneshot #harold ramis #bill murray

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egonspenglerectoplasm · 3 months

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That smile... 🔥

#egon spengler comic #egon x janine #ghostbusters egon #egon spengler #dr egon spengler #janine x egon #egon spengler x reader #young harold ramis #harold ramis #real ghostbusters #ghostbusters 2 #ghostbusters ii #ghostbusters 1984 #ghostbusters #ghostbusters frozen empire #ghostbusters afterlife #idw ghostbusters #the real ghostbusters

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stellarembers · 1 year

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rami malek >>

rami looks so adorable in this picture omg

#Night at the museum #night at the museum x reader #rami malek #ahkmenrah #natm fandom #natm 3 #secret of the tomb #Night at the museum 3

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the-desilittle-bird · 1 year

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Tag List Registration

Requests are always open and well appreciated.

So, if anyone wishes to Request something for the characters and celebrities mentioned below, feel free to go.

Daemon Targaryen

Oneshots

Realm's Desire

Honour of our House (Sequel to Realm's Desire)

The Present as It Is (Sequel to Honour of our House)

Dreams and Dragons

Dancing with Dragons

Never Yours

In The Stories

Blessings of the Goddess

In the Silence

The Dragon of North (Sequel to Never Yours)

False Accusations

For Your Sake

For Them

Without Him

Aemond Targaryen

Oneshots

Not in Our Destiny

In the Darks of Night (Sequel to Not in Our Destiny)

Rage of a Mother

The Crimson Lady

The Crimson Queen (Sequel to Crimson Lady)

Twisted Feelings

Twisted Love (Sequel to Twisted Feelings)

Beloved Sister (Platonic! Also, Aegon x Reader)

Fire of Desire

You Love Me Right?

Headcanons

Being Rhaenyra's Daughter and taking Aemond's Eye Part 2

Being Reborn in Wizarding World with Aemond

Series

The White Dragon (Also, Cregan x reader)

Cregan Stark

Series

The White Dragon (Also, Aemond x reader)

Oneshots

The Dragon of North (Sequel to Never )

Headcanons

Being Cregan Stark's Young Wife Would Include

Aegon II Targaryen (Only on Request)

Oneshots

For A Better Future

My Gorgeous Princess

Beloved Sister (Platonic! Also, Aemond x Reader)

Helaena Targaryen (Only on Request)

Oneshots

Ecliptic Wedding

Preferences

First Meeting

Being in an Arranged Marriage

Defending Your Honor

You are a Foreign Delegate

Tony Stark

A Woman of a Kind

Steve Rogers

Thor Odinson

Loki Laufeyson

Peculiar Thing

Doctor Stephen Strange

Bucky Barnes

Broken Beings

T'Challa Udaku

Something New

Carlisle Cullen

Marry Me

Edward Cullen

Jasper Hale

Under the Moon

Aro Volturi

Marcus Volturi

Caius Volturi

Demetri Volturi

Benjamin

Draco Malfoy

The Kiss of the Dark

Tom Riddle

Percival Graves

Albus Dumbledore

The Fate Awaits (Sister!Reader)

Grieving the Dead (Sequel to The Fate Awaits)

Gellert Grindelwald

The Fate Awaits (Wife!Reader)

Grieving the Dead (Sequel to The Fate Awaits)

Aleksander Morovoza

Nikolai Lantsov

Robert Downey Jr.

Chris Evans

Is Air Conditioner Working?

Tom Hiddleston

Beautiful yet Broken Doll

Crazy Cravings

Matt Smith

Indian Dinner

Robert Pattinson

Rami Malek

Sebastian Stan

Mistakes Are Common

Tom Felton

The Harry Potter Reunion

Ram Charan

Ben Barnes

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poptod · 7 months

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Curious Companion (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: You wake up in a museum and realize you're just a wax version of yourself. Your curiosity remains, and you find yourself entrenched in conversation with a millennia old Pharaoh.

Notes: its happy, then very sad, then happy again WC: 2.7k

The guards didn't care much about your section of the museum. Perhaps, you wondered from afar, it was because you looked and acted much like them––more humanoid than the little figurines or the puppets and stuffed animal skins. Regardless of what the three night guards thought of you, it did allow you more freedom than many of the other exhibits, for which you were grateful. Still, you didn't like them very much.

You awoke much like the other exhibits one evening, like you were ripped from your home and suddenly placed in a museum. The only difference was you had no idea why you were there; reading your plaque cleared things up only slightly. It had your name, and a profession you once thought of going into as a child, only for you to decide upon your entrance into college that it was a fabled dream. It also said that you were the young version of yourself, and that you would discover an ancient city on the coast of Egypt in your late 50's. Overall, the experience was strange. Few people were afforded a plaque telling them what they would do in their life.

Eventually, you realized that you would never accomplish those things anyway. The real you did––you yourself were a wax figure stuck in a museum in the year of 1992, and it was several centuries after your supposed death. Computers, although very informative, were very hard to figure out in order to obtain this information.

Knowing this––knowing you would never age, never accomplish anything yourself––did little to stifle your curiosity regarding the mystical land of ancient Egypt. You spent many nights combing the internet for information on Egypt, everything that had been learned between your existence in the early 20th century to now, nearing the 3rd millenium.

This research was only interspersed by your search for what exactly brought you to life. Avoiding the night guards seemed prudent, despite the fact that they might have answers, and thus you were left to your own devices to try and figure the mystery out.

After many weeks of no answers, you decided to trail the guards at a safe distance in hopes of overhearing some conversation. They mentioned a mummy––one you had not heard about being in the museum before––and a magic tablet. Immediately you left in search of this exhibit, excitement teeming at your fingers. If the magic worked to make everything alive, surely it would make the mummy alive. If every exhibit retained their memories from life, this mummy would have an immeasurable amount of knowledge about what ancient Egypt was really like, although you knew language may be a barrier. But it didn't stop you.

You searched the museum as thoroughly as you could––which took several nights, seeing as how large the museum was––and eventually circled back round to a place near your own exhibit, which you chastised yourself for. You were part of the exhibit on Egyptian history. It would make sense the mummy would be near you. But before you could even enter the room, the sun began to rise, and you hurried back to your exhibit to await the next coming night.

That next evening, you waited until the night guards came and went, laughing and play-fighting each other as they locked up each of the exhibits in turn. As usual, they skipped you. But once they were gone you snuck out of your casing, and headed towards the screaming you had heard the first time you found the mummy's room.

The sarcophagus rattled beneath the heavy stone, and the thick lock keeping it together barely moved as the deceased person shook and yelled with all their might. The statues of Anubis, carrying was-scepters and adorned in gold, only watched you as you slowly walked down the hall. You circled the sarcophagus, admired the carvings, and then moved to read the plaque.

Ahkmenrah was his name. A young Pharaoh from the Middle Kingdom. Discovered in the 1950's. Son of Merenkahre with a partially illegitimate claim to the throne. Suspected to be assassinated due to the wounds in his back.

You returned to the sarcophagus.

"Ahkmenrah?" You said quietly.

The screaming ceased, but the rattling did not.

"Can you hear me?" You asked.

He made a sound, which was completely incoherent, but was a confirmation nonetheless.

You didn't really think about what you would do once you got this far. Originally you had a plethora of questions in store, but thinking about it now, it didn't seem appropriate to launch all of them upon the encased Pharaoh. Being stuck in a cramped sarcophagus did not sound like a pleasant time, and you didn't even know if he would understand you.

"Do you understand me?"

"Arabic?" He suddenly said, and though his voice was still muffled, it was clear enough to understand.

"Yes," you said, shuffling forward in your excitement. "Is that alright?"

"I know English more well," he said.

"Oh. Um…"

Your english skills left something to be desired, but they would suffice. They did better with reading than speaking.

"My name is (Y/N)," you began in English. "Do you, um… do you know why we are… not dead?"

"Yes, of course I do," he said in perfect English. "Do you see that tablet up on the wall? It's made of gold. The light of Amun shines down from the top upon its' keys."

"Yes, I see."

"My father gave it to me, as a gift. It is imbued with the powers of the Great God Khonsu, may he live forever. It was meant to keep our family together but, as I am separated from my family, it keeps the museum alive. It keeps us safe," he said.

"Safe?"

"Protected. Away from harm, or getting hurt."

"Ah." You laughed. "Your English is better than me. How did you learn it?"

"Well, before I was here, previously I was stationed in Cambridge University for study. That's where I learned English, and Arabic, and Hebrew. I had a lot more freedom there… when I learned I was to be transferred to a city of New York, I was most agrieved. Now I see I had every right to feel such a way. Um, (Y/N), may I ask, who are you?"

"I'm the young type of a famous person. I read, when I am… when I was older, I found an Egyptian city on the shore of Egypt. The city was built after you died," you explained.

"I see. I have another question, if that's alright."

"Yes, it is. I have also questions for you, if that's alright," you said in return, earning a laugh.

"Yes, quite alright. But I go first. (Y/N), do you know why I am locked up?"

You sucked in a breath. It was fair that he would ask this question; you just weren't prepared to answer it.

"There are guards, that the museum has to keep things safe. They keep everything locked up. Only a little bit of us are not locked up. I am not. But the guards are not very nice. I don't like them," you explained quietly, leaning in to speak through the tiny crack between the coffin and its' lid.

"I see," he said, a hint of sadness lacing his tone. "Do you… do you think you could open up my sarcophagus?"

"Yes, I think," you said with a frown. "But they will hear. Then I will be locked up too, and so will you, for the rest of time. And we will not be able to talk again."

"… you're right," he said, and sighed. "I'm sorry. It's just very cramped in here."

"I know. I am sorry as well."

You visited him every night, year after year. Each night you both would have questions for each other; yours regarding his life in ancient Egypt, and his mostly personal and theological. His sense of humor was surprisingly vibrant considering his state of being, and you enjoyed your time with him immensely. He seemed to be the only exhibit in the museum with a true soul, which you attributed to the fact that he was an actual human made of bones and flesh, and not a figure carved from wax. Each passing month you yearned more and more to see his face; to know his entirety. Each year the longing grew immensely more painful. Still, every night you went to see him, and always avoided the night guards, who grew older and older as you stayed just as young as when you first awoke.

"I want to ask," you began one night, "what God you worship."

"I worship many Gods. My favorite, my most beloved Netjer is Nefertem. But He is not a very appropriate God for a Pharaoh to worship. As Pharaoh, I was set to elevate Ra and Khonsu as the ultimate Gods," Ahkmenrah explained, though his answer only led to more questions.

"You are not allowed to worship some Gods?"

He sighed, and you could practically feel him rolling his eyes.

"Some Gods are not popular enough for the people to rally behind. So in order to retain power as Pharaoh, you have to encourage a God the people already love and adore in great hoards. I don't think it's very right, personally. But it's the way things are done. Now, (Y/N), what God do you worship?"

You paused.

"Supposedly the Abrahamic one," you said. "My family is Muslim. They worship Allah, a supreme male God. I… have a.. complicated relationship with Allah."

Ahkmenrah laughed, and the lid to the sarcophagus rattled with him, similar to the high ringing of marriage bells sounding like the shackles prisoners wore clinking around their wrists and ankles.

"Do you know who Allah is?" You asked.

"Of course I do. I didn't spend all that time in Cambridge for nothing. He emerged after the preachings of the prophet Muhammed. I've always been curious about this one God who has so wholly encapsulated the world. It seems he is the only God people worship these days."

"Not everyone is Muslim."

"No, but everyone worships this God that came from the Israelites, yes? From the Israelites came Jesus, and the Christian God, who is the same as the Jewish God. After the Christians came Muhammed, and the Muslim God. They're all the same, are they not?" He said.

Your brow furrowed. You hadn't thought of it that way before––perhaps a product of your era. But he brought about a good point. Suddenly the fighting between the three religions seems superfluous and stupid.

"I guess so," you finally said. "There are other religions now, not only three. Hinduism and Buddhism are large in the east."

"I've heard of Hinduism. It's polytheistic, yes?"

"Yes."

"I enjoy that."

You laughed.

There was silence, and then Ahkmenrah spoke again.

"You don't really worship Allah though, do you?"

"My family does."

"Forget your family. Do you believe in this ultimate, male power in the universe?"

"… not really."

"Do you believe in any higher power at all?"

"Yes," you said, without really thinking it through. "I do not think about it much. Well, I have not, in my past. It is not… not right. But I am not sure what I believe in."

"Think about it. Tell me next time, alright?" He requested in a soft voice.

You reached out and touched his sarcophagus.

"Of course," you said.

Next time didn't come.

The night guards had grown old over the years, and the time had come for them to be replaced. They were bitter about it, you knew, and you had overheard their ideas to steal the tablet of your friend. You had few ideas on how to stop them; when the next night guard came, you thought to tell him, but he was grossly incompetent and quit within the first day. The museum ran through several new night guards––all of whom quit after seeing how the museum actually operated at night––until one man who was desperate enough finally returned night after night, trying his best and failing to lock up all the exhibits. Despite the chaos, you had been managing to sneak away to talk to Ahkmenrah whenever the guards weren't near.

The new night guard's incompetence, however, led to one of the exhibits escaping: a wax figure of an ancient hominid. The night of your conversation with Ahk, you noticed one of the figures missing from the exhibit, and saw an open window. You knew the new night guard would not be able to save the hominid, and somehow, although you'd never been told, you knew something bad would happen if they were outside when the sun rose.

You climbed out the window. Already the evening was fading away. You went running in search of the hominid, and tried your best to lure him back into the museum. As you reached the museum doors with the hominid in tow, the sun crested over the tops of the skyscrapers, and the both of you turned to dust.

…

Larry nearly got fired for losing two exhibits on one of his first nights, but all of that seemed like the distant past after his efforts in stopping Cecil and uniting the exhibits of the museum to work together in friendship. It seemed to him a great accomplishment––especially in the light of his son's happiness and the fact that he now had a job that was actually quite easy––and he prided himself on his work.

Ahkmenrah, the dead Pharaoh, however, was not as cheerful as he had been when he was released. He spent his nights searching every historical and scientific wing of the museum and never seemed to find what he was looking for.

One evening, Larry followed him, and finally spoke up.

"So… you seem to be… looking for something. Usually. Think I can help you find it?" Larry asked, his hands folded behind his back as he awkwardly approached the 4,000 year old Pharaoh.

"I had a friend, before you came," Ahkmenrah said, but didn't spare a glance away from scanning the different plaques. "Their name was (Y/N). They spoke to me while I was locked away. One evening, they didn't return. It was… somewhat recent. A couple days before you released me from my sarcophagus."

"(Y/N)? (L/N)? The historian?"

"I would think so. I think they were Arabic. I never saw their face."

"Yeah… I think I know who you're talking about." Larry pursed his lips and took a deep breath, preparing himself to deliver the news. "I'm sorry, Ahk. They escaped the museum and uh… didn't return before sunrise."

Ahk stopped moving. His eyes halted on one of the words he was reading: founded. A great sorrow filled up his heart, and took up the space where his breath would be, and filled his eyes where his sight once lay. All that remained was the sudden stillness, and the blackness in his mind.

"I see," he said quietly, attempting his best to stop his voice from failing. "Thank you, Larry."

He left, leaving Larry alone in the hall, and returned to his sarcophagus. He lay there for the night and did not move till the sun rose, and he froze in his death.

Some days later––perhaps a week or two––Larry found him sitting on the edge of the staircase, and led him upstairs. He would not say where they were going, but when they got there, Ahk had an idea of what had happened. Your plaque was put back in its' place, and standing in the glass encasing was you. You looked confused. His lips parted in a soft gasp.

They replaced you.

"Larry, what is this?" Ahkmenrah asked, furrowing his brow.

"Well, when McPhee saw that (L/N) was missing, he had another one made, and… well, here they are. Thought you might want to know," Larry said. When neither Ahk or you made any move, he continued with, "oh, let me just…" and unlocked your new casing. "There you go."

You looked at both of them, your wide eyes darting between the two strange figures as you placed your hands on either edge of the glass. Ahk offered his hand for you to step down with. You looked at his hand, and then back up to him, tilting your head to the side.

Despite your doubts, you took his hand. You asked something in Arabic––something Larry couldn't understand, but Ahkmenrah comprehended perfectly.

"Do I know you?" You asked.

"In a way," he murmured, unable to look away from you. You were shining in the usually harsh and unflattering light of the museum. He wondered how you would look in a perfect sunset.

"You seem… familiar," you said as though in a trance.

"I'll explain everything," he said softly. "Walk with me?"

"… alright."

He took your other hand, and the two of you left down the hall, staring at each other.

#ahkmenrah x reader #ahkmenrah x female reader #ahkmenrah x male reader #night at the museum #rami malek #ahkmenrah

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egonspenglershusband · 5 months

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I need to be in this man's arms so fucking bad

I also just badly need to kiss him and be with him in general

#I'm so normal about him #ghostbusters #ghostbusters ii #ghostbusters fandom #ghostbusters 2 #ghostbusters 1984 #ghostbusters egon #egon spengler #egon spengler x reader #dr egon spengler #harold ramis #f/o #f/o gush #fictional other #comfort Character

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queenie-official · 1 year

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The Ahkmenrah brain rot is real😭

#ahkmenrah x female reader #ahkmenrah #ahkmenrah x reader #rami malek night at the museum #night at the museum #rami malek #ahkmenrah x male reader #ahkmenrah x gender neutral reader #queenie’s thoughts Xx<3

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shelbgrey · 7 months

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- Dating Egon Spengler mood Board

#Egon spengler #Dating aesthetic #Aesthetic #Mood boards #Ghostbusters #Egon spengler x reader #harold ramis #80

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gallwithapall · 8 months

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IM BACK ON MY GHOSTBUSTERS BULLSHIT LOOK AT THEM!

I W A N T T H E M NOW

my mother mentioned Dan Aykroyd ONCE! ONE TIME TODAY and now look at me

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myouicieloz · 7 days

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Heartbeat

Shin Ryujin x reader

Synopsis: you’ve promised to take your best friend to an awaited party, located in a nearby city. Ryujin catches your eye, and you fall right into her web of plans, with the promise of having a good time once and for all.

Warnings: mentions of gangs, guns and drugs. smut. blood. violence. nsfw.

Word count: 13.8k

Notes: i thought abt this after watching ryujin’s solo mv! it was so good <3. this was a fairly new topic for me to write about, so I apologize if it’s poorly written or unrealistic. nevertheless, I had lots of fun writing it ˆˆ. english is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes.

You don’t mind helping out your parents by working at the family’s Diner: there usually weren’t many customers, and days went by slowly without you being bothered.

“Hey, Y/n. Can I grab another soda?” Your best friend asks, brushing her hands in front of your face to get your attention. Facing you from the other side of the diner’s endless counter, Chaeryeong looks like a hyper child, standing up from her seat to take a look at the soda machine, placed behind your frame.

You roll your eyes at her, simply grabbing the large cup she hands you and filling it up with Coke Zero, this time. “Here.”

“Awn, man, come on!” She protests, grunting. Lets her head fall back. “Coke Zero tastes like shit, Y/n! Give me something tasty, damn.” Chaeryeong turns to the few other customers, gesticulating, “What does a girl have to do to get the good stuff around here? Stop with the misery!”

She has her finger pointed at you, to which you giggle. You’ve known Chaery since your diaper days, with her living in the house in front of yours, and the two of you have been best friends ever since. Her careless, playful nature provides a nice balance to your calm, responsible one. You love her to pieces, which means you are always taking care of the dark-haired girl, in many ways.

“You’ve reached your daily quota of sugar.” You don’t even look at her as you answer, busy giving an elder woman her exchange in cash. “And don’t make those faces. I might as well just give you water, from now on.” Smiling at the customer, you ignore your friend. “Thank you, ma’am! Have a pleasant day.” Chaeryeong gulps, knowing fully well you mean your words.

She keeps her thoughts to herself, mumbling something incoherent while the loud slurps of the iced drink can be heard. Still not paying her much attention, you lean your elbows on the counter marble, sighing tiredly. Even though it was only an hour past noon, you could feel the heaviness in your eyes, the tiredness getting to you. Not having any orders, you allow yourself a few moments of rest, closing your eyes and resting your head on your hands. Just some seconds of peace, you decide.

The bell chime’s noise announces the end of your calm state of mind. In a blink, your sister is placing a medium-sized box on the counter, her usual smile directed at you. You know better than to trust her angelic looks, though — behind her rose gold hair and delicate features, Rosé is nothing but a devious manipulator.

However, she’s still your older sister, and you love her to pieces. It’s the only reason you don’t ignore her, crossing your arms and waiting for her to speak up, instead. She pushes the box towards you, smiling sneakily.

“Good morning, baby sister.” Rosé greets you. As usual, she never goes straight to the point.

You narrow your eyes at her. “It’s past noon, Rosé.”

“Yeah, whatever.” She brushes you off, winking at Chaeryeong to say hello. The girl nearly drowns in her coke, coughing violently.

Chaeryeong has had a massive crush on your sister ever since she was fourteen. Fortunately for you, Rosé has never seen her as anything apart from a little sister too, like yourself. Although the not so subtle rejection has never stopped Chaery from freaking out whenever Rosé addressed or acknowledged her.

“Good morning to you too, Rosie unnie.” She says, after finally gathering her breath. You huff, muttering about how biased she was and being promptly ignored by both girls. The package catches Chaery’s attention, ever so curious, and she pokes it with her bony fingers. “And what’s that about?”

Rosé pulls the package towards you, shrinking her shoulders down a little. For some, she might seem hesitant, but you know her too well to be aware that her movements are anything short of calculated.

“Could you deliver this for me?” She asks —tone dripping with sweetness. It always is, whenever she wants something from you. This is no different. “They asked for the pieces pretty urgently, and I’ll be off to deliver another package in a nearby city in a few minutes.”

Apart from the Diner, your father also owned a mechanical workshop, and would often sell and deliver car pieces to his clients. Rosé, being her outgoing self, dealt with them and the business part of it while you preferred to step aside, helping with the Diner instead. It was only when she had too much work to do that you had to deal with her customers, instead —and those were never pleasant experiences.

Perhaps you were just not cut for the job, or your calm aura was easy to be taken advantage of, but it was a matter of fact: you sucked at negotiating deals and making small talk. It made you uncomfortable and anxious, having to put up a superior act and bargain with assholes until you got enough profit to go home satisfied, so you avoided it vigorously.

Unfortunately, Rosé never hesitated to ask for a hand.

You eye the box suspiciously, trying to figure out the content inside without having to touch it. Even though it seems heavy, you can never truly trust appearances. After all, car pieces are not the only thing they sell at your father’s shop.

“I mean… I could.” You smirk back at Rosé, your identical smiles mirroring one another. “But I don’t want to.”

Before you even register, Rosé smacks you on the head. You’ve never been able to buck from her quick hands anyway.

“Hey!” You massage your scalp, moving your upper body forward to give Chaeryeong a push, too, since the action has her laughing loudly. “Bitch.”

Rosé giggles, too, standing on her tiptoes to give you a kiss on the cheek.

“Pretty please, Y/nnie.” She sighs, joining her hands in a prayer. “I’ll owe you one. I’ll even give you that dress of mine you love, promise.”

Chaeryeong gives you a thumbs up, biased as she’s always been.

“Come on, Y/n, let’s just do it. It’ll be fun! It’s too monotonous to be at the Diner all day, anyway.”

“See?” Rosé gestures to your best friend, pleased to be supported. “Chaery, you’re so sweet.” Your sister pinches her nose, and Chaeryeong’s face turns as red as a strawberry in a matter of seconds. She turns to you once again, then, still faking that hesitation. “Please? It’d be an outstanding deal for us. Lots of profit and all.”

You roll your eyes, still not convinced. Even though Chaery’s eyes are nearly popping off her face with how intensely she’s glaring, you refuse to give in. Rosé was stubborn, but you share the same blood, after all.

“Aren’t any of your friends available? I can’t just close the Diner and go.” Lies. You simply refuse to bulge, to relent to Rosé’s wishes as you always did.

She doesn’t even blink, though, unbothered by your lack of cooperation.

“Lisa, Jisoo, and Jennie are all busy with other work deals too, as well as the boys.” She shrugs, going around the counter to grab a beer for herself. “Trust me, Y/n: if I had anyone to go deliver this, I would… but you know how busy these past weeks have been, and we’re all so overworked. Help me out, please?” She touches the cross hanging on her chest, identical to the one you never took off.

A symbol of your bond.

You sigh, jumping off the balcony and giving in to Rosé’s orders for the nth time. “Fine.” You mumble, grumpy. “Chaeryeong can take care of the place while I go.”

“What the fuck, Y/n!” The girl jumps from her seat, suddenly interested in the conversation as if she hadn’t spent the last five minutes scrolling on her phone, all bored. Suddenly, she’s all ears, eagerly advocating for herself, “I don’t want to do the boring stuff! Let me go with you.”

Before you’re able to tell your friend to get fucked, Rosé stops you with her hands, signaling for someone to come in.

“It’s good for you to not go alone, baby sis. Chaery can make you company.” She nods, grabbing the young girl who came in by the shoulders and positioning her in front of you and Chaeryeong. “This is Rami. She’s Mingyu’s little sister, remember? She said she could handle the diner for a few hours while the two of you are at it. Such a sweetheart, is she not?”

The girl — Rami, nods energetically, looking at your sister with adoration in her glittery eyes. It was no surprise Rosé had brought one of her little fangirls to help, actually. Living in a small city for all your life, everyone knew Rosé. She’s been a notable presence since her teenage years, whether it was attending fancy balls or setting fire to the shops downtown. The blonde girl has been remarkable for as long as you can remember. She’s always been either feared, hated, or loved, but remarkable nonetheless.

Which only proved your theory that you were not going to deliver any car pieces, after all.

You and Chaery exchanged a knowing look, neither caring enough to ask anything about this girl or explain the job she’d have to take at the Diner for free.

“Very well, then.” You sigh, watching Rosé’s excited clapping and giggling. “I’ll grab my car keys.”

Chaeryeong follows you closely, also jumping of joy. You’re well aware she hates being at the Diner, always complaining of boredom, but it isn’t like she has any other friends to go out with. Behind her bubbly, chatty, and energetic personality, she’s is actually very frail and shy, which makes her an easy target for the mean fuckers your age. She struggles, and would much rather just have a single, loyal friend. And you’ve always made sure to protect her fiercely.

“Adventure!! Finally.” The dark-haired girl raises her hands, thanking God you’d go out.

“Don’t get too excited.” You warn her, turning to Rosé. Pointing a finger at the rosy-haired woman, you add. “I hate you.”

She pulls you in for a suffocating hug, used to your harsh behavior. “And I love you so, little sis. Thank you!”

Both Rami and her wave as you and Chaeryeong leave the diner, the package weighing heavily in your hands. You don’t have a big 6th sense, but something does not feel right. Although you ignore it anyway, turning the car on and driving to the address your sister texted you.

“Do we really have to do this?” She whines, closing the passenger’s door rather roughly — to which you grunt, paying her a harsh stare for not being careful with your precious car.

She realized the whole thing would be anything but fun sometime mid the 40-minute journey to the abandoned warehouse you were currently walking into. Besides, once you reminded her that Rosé’s request would put off her wishes of going out and partying for a few hours, that little pout of hers hasn’t left her lips. Now, Chaeryeong is all regretful to have supported the older girl in her wishes.

“Not really.” You pay your friend no mind, walking towards the place that was falling into pieces. Seeing you weren’t backing her up, her pout deepened.

“It’s my birthday.” She argues, kicking rocks along the way.

“I already bought you a cake. And milkshake, and fries.” You roll your eyes, remembering how you’d all chanted your best friend happy birthday at your parents’ Diner, during breakfast. “And a shit ton of booze, throughout all these years of knowing you. You haven’t paid me back once.”

Chaeryeong sighs, hurrying to your side, defeated. You keep walking without waiting for her, making it harder for her to catch up — truly opposites, the two of you.

“Fine. But let’s do this quickly. You promised we’d still go to that party.” She decides, playfully bumping into you. Any other time, her actions would’ve helped you to be at ease, but you’re unable to relax this time. You know this is some serious shit.

“Yeah, let’s do this quick.” You repeat her words, entering the abandoned place at a slow, nearly languid pace.

Let you both be out of here in no time. You wish, once again sensing the bad omens.

The warehouse, although old, mistreated and nearly falling into pieces, is not unsettling to you. It’s merely the place Rosé sometimes treats business, and you’ve accompanied her once or twice, before. The wooden beams are rotten, and the flooring has long disappeared, fading into dust that clings to your combat boots. You’d have to clean them later, and that somehow annoys you more than the situation itself. The place is empty, with walls that were once covered by big, expensive windows, yet all that remains are tainted, broken glasses hanging wherever you could look. Machines are still forgotten in random locations inside the building, a ghost of times when the government tried to rebuild the massive area. None of that was successful, obviously. Now, this ghost of a place belongs to your father, your sister, and the other people who were also part of the darker side of this shitty town.

Only a single table hangs in the open area of the first floor, clearly meant for dealerships and businesses. Upon arriving, you notice 5 — no, nearly 10 people waiting not so patiently. Wearing dark, shabby clothes, none of them seem welcoming, to say the least. Rosé had told you’d be doing business with Wendy, a familiar customer from another small town nearby, in hopes to ease down on your nerves. It worked, in a way: having met with Wendy a few times prior, you weren’t all nervous about the upcoming meeting. She was intimidating and oh, so pretty, but you got along well with the auburn-haired woman and her business partners, from previous experiences such as charity dinners and dealerships alongside your sister’s presence.

The woman that stands in front of you, however, looks nothing like Wendy. You know her, naturally; it was impossible not to. Jinsoul’s troublemaker fame was much different than your sister’s — while Rosé’s actions, even though batshit crazy at times, are dreadfully calculated, Jinsoul’s insanity comes with the sole purpose of enticing chaos. Her unstable nature is much of a pain, you’ve personally experienced so from watching herself prove her influence on a crowd by torturing some poor girl who accidentally spilled champagne in her dress at a ceremony, or setting fire to a man’s car at one of the car rifts you often attend. Out of all the girls from her gang, Jinsoul is the least pleasant one to set off deals with.

Naturally, Rosé and Jinsoul hate each other with a passion, being two different flames of the same fire.

With all of that knowledge, you fix your posture, observing Chaeryeong do the same with your peripheral vision. Even though you absolutely despise it, you’ve been taught well how to keep a powerful, imposing façade. Standing tall, you tower over Jinsoul and her subordinates.

“I see Rosé sent her little minion, instead of herself. Must be really busy, of course.” Jinsoul doesn’t greet you, as expected. Her tone is dripping with venom as she examines you and your best friend with harsh eyes.

Now that you’re in front of her, you’re no longer hesitant or scared. Instead, you’re bothered, irritated that you have to deal with your sister’s cheap copy instead of Wendy or Joohyun. Taking a step towards the young woman, you curse Rosé under your breath, fully aware the eventful encounter is not a misunderstanding.

“Nice hair. I love the new color.” You say, leaning your head with a knowing look. Jinsoul’s hair falls a little past her shoulders, in a strawberry-blonde tone that is exactly like Rosé’s past one, from a few months prior. “I’ll tell Rosé her oldest, most faithful fan sends her regards.”

Your words seem to stir something inside the leader in front of you. She scoffs, gritting her teeth. “This is too tedious. Give me the shipment we agreed on, I’ve got better things to do anyway.”

Rolling your eyes, you gesture for Chaeryeong to drop the box on the ground. She does as told, the metallic sounds of the guns moving inside. It echoes in the empty place, as the box falls onto the ground.

Jinsoul remains stoic, hands resting neatly inside her pockets, while her guards reach out for the box. Before they can touch it, though, you step on it, preventing anyone from moving.

“Give us the money first, Jinsoul. No funny business.” You stare right into her eyes, remembering the times you’ve caught her fooling around in her deals, leaving other people empty-handed. “Then you can check as much as you want.”

She laughs, knowing you’re no fool. “I see you’ve gotten wiser, Y/n. Well done.”

In a second, she’s handing you another small, compacted package. You take the money with your delicate hands, not in the least made to deal with such dirty stuff. You count it, already feeling the blood in your veins boil. Chaeryeong breaths are heavy beside you as you say. “This is not what we agreed on, Jinsoul. Stop being a whore for once and give me the other half of the fucking money.”

You and Chaery don’t need words to understand each other. She grabs the box back from the ground as soon as she sees you go rigid, holding on to it with the same look of disdain you bear.

“Oh, my dear.” Jinsoul stands close enough to grab a strand of your long fringe, knuckles brushing your jawline with feigned affection. “Your sister should know I am only faithful to the people I treat business with… and I didn’t discuss anything with you, precious.”

Turning your face, you hold Chaeryeong with one arm to prevent her from jumping on Jinsoul and beating her up.

“You bitch!” Your friend screams at her face, her voice muffled by Jinsoul’s hectic laughter as she walks away, back turned to you and Chaery in a clear show of disrespect.

Before you can go to Jinsoul yourself, her guards strike, going straight to the two of you. You manage to buckle and give them a few punches — causing a fair amount of trouble for someone who didn’t practice often at all, honestly. However, you were outnumbered, and soon enough you find yourself on the ground, punched and disheveled.

Coughing violently, you turn to see one of them kicking Chaeryeong in the guts, a few meters from you. The sight of your friend, cheerful and pure Chaery, being hurt enrages you to the core. You spit at their feet to gather all the attention to yourself.

“Don’t touch her, fucker!” You scream, breathless. They pay you no mind, having the time of their lives.

You feel something on your jacket, then. When you look ahead, Jinsoul has poured a thick, horizontal line of a viscous liquid through all of the massive warehouse. Other guards help, with gallons, but you know most of it is her doing — she loves to get her hands dirty in the business. There’s fire in her eyes, and by the time she lifts the lighter dramatically, you’re already well aware.

Gasoline.

“Goodbye, dearests! It’s always a pleasure doing business with you.” She chants, before throwing the lighter and walking away, without any rush.

You have to use both hands to stand on your fours, then on your knees. Your jacket is long thrown elsewhere as you grab Chaeryeong by back of her neck, much like a kitten. “Let’s go, and quick. Are you badly hurt?” You murmur, looking for any bad bruises on her porcelain skin. The girl shakes her head, running her hand through her bloody nose. She whimpers, and you know she’s trying her best to be strong in front of you. You give her a hug, as well as a kiss on her dirty cheek, in hopes of bringing her a little comfort. “Good. Now come.”

You hated — no, you despised Rosé for always deceiving you. Only this time, she’d pay.

Leaning on each other, the two of you go back to where you’d parked your car, in a hidden area a few minutes away from the warehouse, just as you’ve been taught to do. You take a deep breath, appreciating the humidity and the nature that ruled the place, a forgotten piece of the city. It had rained while you were inside, and you were glad for that. You loved the smell of rain, especially in nature.

On your way to the car, you spot a water tap nearby. You take Chaeryeong’s arms from your shoulders, then, opening the tap and turning to her. “Clean yourself up.”

“You’re so bossy.” She mumbles, but is quick to do as told, grabbing a hold of the water and splashing it on her face, cleaning up the dust that gathered. Chaeryeong nearly drenches her whole head, too — her pitch-black hair all shiny within minutes as the color slowly returns to her face.

While she takes the dirt off her arms and legs, you look around to check on the fire. It is still lively, a bright beacon as the night falls by, but you know it won’t spread. The place was all rotten by rust, with barely any ceiling left, so the rain would most likely put it off.

Still, Jinsoul’s message was clear, and it stung on your pride.

At least she’s always been like that, never presenting herself differently. Much different from your sister, who tells lies for breakfast.

Your mind is still clouded by troubled thoughts when Chaeryeong lets out a tired laugh, smiling once you kneel to clean up yourself. “They beat up our asses hard out there, you know.”

As much as her statement annoys the shit out of you, you’re grateful to have her cracking jokes again. Your best friend’s delicate features suit the red color on her mouth, a sign she’s well and ready for the next one.

You feel the dust gathering under your fingers and all over your skin. It’s all over you, so intensely your honey hair can be misguided as black, with how much of it is covered by dirt.

“I’ve barely noticed.”

Chaeryeong chokes in her saliva to keep herself from laughing, knowing your patience’s running thin. Even if you have the softest spot for her, she decides not to push it.

“Yes, obviously.” She nods. You think she’s finally going to be quiet, but it’s your best friend you’re talking about. Naturally, she continues. “Let’s go to the party, please?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you finish washing up, feeling refreshed and no longer too bothered. “Yes.”

You both arrive where the car is parked before she adds. “And we need fighting lessons once we get back home.”

“Chaeryeong.”

“It’s true, sorry! It is.” She raises her hands as if to keep herself from being attacked by your rage.

You limit yourself to giving her a harsh stare, and she shivers under it. You can be quite intimidating when you wish to be, especially since you’re not exactly a chatterbox.

Turning the car on, you indulge your friend’s wishes as you drive towards the party she’s been nagging you about for the whole week.

The night’s already taken over the sky once you park on the crowded street, after hours of speeding on the free road. As you hop out of the car, your thoughts go to your sister: you know the meeting with Jinsoul had been arranged all along, with her words about Wendy being merely for you to agree on doing as told. How could she fool you like that? As if you were nothing more than another dischargeable person, like many of her toys.

It’s not the first time Rosé has sent you and Chaeryeong to some skimpy situation, but knowing she was well aware of it being a clear trap all along leaves you absolutely outraged.

Even though she knew of the risks, she still sent you. You would’ve never gone, had you known it was a situation like that, and that’s the reason she didn’t warn you beforehand.

You hated Rosé’s guts.

Chaery rushes to your side once again, side-eyeing you with as little discreetness as possible — unlike yourself, she’s never been good at hiding her expressions. You don’t even attempt to smile, still mad about your earlier encounter and all that went wrong.

Not even your bubbly, cheerful best friend can lift your spirits, at the moment.

“Don’t tell me you’re still pissed, Y/n.” She shakes her arms, sighing. Her tone is serious, and you know she means it. “Come on! Live your life, and stop being so strict all the time. You deserve to have fun.” Chaery grabs you by the shoulders, lifting your chin so you’ll stare at her. “So have fun! I know it fucking sucks, but it’s done! Let’s just enjoy the night and deal with the whole problem tomorrow morning.”

You roll your eyes, knowing she’d never comprehend your feelings. As much as you love how carefree she is, you also know your personalities are too different.

You allow her to interlock your hand with hers, though, as the two of you pass the sea of cars in the direction of the crowded mansion.

“You could use a little fire within yourself too, you know.” You murmur, examining the place with harsh eyes.

The front garden alone is already impressive. Its deep green lawn is impeccable — clearly trimmed and well cared for, aligning with the lavish fountain that stands in the center and all the animals sculpted in the bushes. A cupid stands in the middle of the marble fountain, water flowing smoothly from its carved bow. You recognize the modern styling of the mansion, with plenty of massive windows that cover both floors of the house. With its wooden walls, the place has a rustic yet cozy surface. There is no doubt whoever owns such property has a great sense of style.

Even that front area is crowded, too. People nearly having public sex, others throwing up vigorously while being helped by friends, a few others just passed out on the lawn… although you’re surprised to see many groups simply drinking and chilling, leaning on their cars, too — most likely seeking an escape from the vivid music and the heat wave that must be inside. You already feel the energetic music echoing through the whole atmosphere, the rhythm reverberating through the walls and on the ground. You bite your cheek to suppress a smile, not wanting your friend to notice yet. To you, there was something appealing about attending such crowded spaces. Amidst the sea of people, you were no one: known by no one, cared for by no one. It was strangely comforting, as if a weight was going off your shoulders, and you liked it.

Interrupting your thoughts, Chaeryeong shrugs, “I mean, it’s Rosé we’re talking about. Did you seriously not expect the deal to be suspicious, to say the very least?” She sighs hard, adding. “That lying, dreadful hot bitch. I’d go to as many sneaky warehouses as she commands me to, sorry, Y/n.”

Her tone is truthful enough to have you shaking your shoulders in laughter, squeezing her hand to make her stop walking through people so fast. As a matter of fact, Chaery’s fat crush on your sister isn’t by any means new to you — going on for many years already, but it always surprises you to hear her say stuff like that.

You find it hilarious, actually, that Chaeryeong is, to this day, one of your sister’s fangirls.

“I seriously can’t believe you sometimes.” You say, although youthful spirits have been lifted. Your best friend smiles brightly at you, her button nose scrunching adorably.

“You just love me so much.”

You leave her at that, and stand by the door, making your way to the main, open area — the living room. Chaeryeong is smart and attentive, which also helps to access the whole place rather quickly. Soon enough, both of you have some kind of fancy drink in hands, and you stare at the ash-haired girl rather hesitantly.

Her bright humor and the room’s energy, bustling with excitement are enough to have you feeling much better, even a little happy yourself. Still sensing your hesitation, she brings the cup to your mouth with her small hands, both of you downing your drinks within seconds.

“Okay,” She says, looking around for anything interesting. “Now the real fun begins.”

You laugh, knowing she’s going to find some source of entertainment for the night — whether it is a pretty girl to lose herself in or a newly discovered gossip to watch and comment over like a TV series.

Chaeryeong disappears and comes back with another fancy-looking drink, stumbling and nearly falling in the process, and you quickly grab the one she hands to you, taking a small sip this time. She’s already had a handful of hers and stares at your choice of savoring the liquid with playful eyes.

“What? I would rather not pass out. That’s your role.”

“You never forget, do you? It was once, Y/n. Once. And forever ago, too! I’ve never done that again.” She huffs, bringing her free hand to her chest in a fake display of resentment.

You giggle as you hug her sideways, shutting off the older girl’s whines. She quickly steps aside, though — not wanting people to think she’s not seeking some fun, and you take the opportunity to look around, observing the inside of the mansion properly.

It’s a beautiful house — a mansion, indeed — and the first floor is nothing but lavish. The bar, where you and Chaeryeong stand, is nearly the size of the one at the Diner, filled with expensive drinks and crystal cups as the bartender — not at all like the junk places the two of you usually attend— mixes drinks with experience.

It also pleases you to see how such a person is not afraid of spending money to host a good party, even if the people enjoying it are complete strangers. The lively atmosphere of young people having fun, mixed with the grand decor of the place balanced each other well, giving a lived-in aspect to said gorgeous place.

The open area has plenty of windows, allowing you to watch the gardens and the pool, outside — even though it’s massive, there’s barely any space left in between the waters, making you gulp with disgust. It was hard for you to understand how that many people would muster the courage to get in, with so many germs and fluids certainly dirtying the once crystal-clear waters.

Looking back inside, you’re able to observe the planned furniture, which is clearly well thought out, with the wooden ceiling and the thick, marble columns. There are rugs lacking, you notice, but it is surely so they don’t stain or anything.

You wonder what the place is like during a quiet, common day. One where the only noises come from the birds, chipping and singing while flying through the trees, and the running water that drips on the pool fountain.

Besides that, it is absolutely crowded. Nearly every single space is occupied by either a couple kissing like there’s no tomorrow or people screaming and dancing, yet everyone seems to be having a nice time. The atmosphere makes you smile, surprisingly cozy on this chaotic yet lively night. That’s how you feel, specially after the prior encounters: alive.

You have to make that feeling worth it.

Time goes by fast once you’re trying to have fun.

You quickly learn so, as you drink, smoke, and dance with Chaeryeong. Even with the alcohol leaving you happy, you’re still uneasy. You can’t shake the feeling that you’re being observed, no matter how many times you tell yourself that’s absolutely insane — there are people in every possible corner of the place, and no one’s paying attention to you.

However, Chaery also seems to be opposed to the logical part of your brain.

“I think you should go for it,” Your best friend tells you, after long minutes of heavily flirting with a barbie-like girl from afar.

You’re nearly sure you know that girl, actually. She’s from your hometown, most likely; her heart-shaped mouth and cherubic features are impossible to miss.

There’s nothing more like Chaery than going to a party located 2 hours away just to fuck around with the same people you’ve known since elementary school.

Your best friend turns around, filling up both of your drinks, even though yours is only halfway empty.

You frown. “Go for what?”

It’s Chaeryeong’s turn to be annoyed at you. She throws her free arm on your shoulders, gesturing to the middle of the living room area, where four good-looking girls stand with critical looks, acting like they own the place.

Which, judging by their style and the way they carry themselves, they might as well do.

Chaeryeong points in their direction with her head, never in her life subtle. “The one in the middle has not stopped staring at you ever since we’ve arrived. Ryujin, they say it’s her name.” Your friend’s excited tone grabs your attention, and you finally take a look at the small group she’s so enamored by. “I think you should go get her.”

Your friend has always had a good taste in women, and this time’s no different. They are beautiful, crushingly so, all hanging out by the long couch, circled by many people who seem to fight for an ounce of their attention. They stay disinterested, though, not paying them as much as a quick look.

One has sharp eyes, listening attentively to what a jumpy redhead and a blonde girl have to say as she sips on her Marguerita. At last, you observe the raven-haired girl Chaeryeong mentioned: she stands powerful in the middle, her sharp features giving her an intimidating look. To your surprise, she’s already staring— her dark eyes examining you with such hunger your heart starts beating rapidly as if there were no one else in the room. Electric shocks fly through your body upon her piercing gaze, and you look away immediately.

“She’s creepy.” You take a long gulp of your drink, in hopes of washing away the urge of sneaking her a glance once again.

Chaeryeong rolls her eyes, nudging you. “Just how you like them.” She scoffs, then, when she realizes you won’t answer — not in the mood to indulge her little monologues. “Please, Y/n, for once in your life just—“

You interrupt your friend, taking a step back and giving her a fake smile. “I need to use the bathroom, but I’ll catch up with you soon, Chaery.” Getting away from her as fast as you can in such a crowded space, you’re still able to hear her voice as you ascend the grand staircase, screaming while raising her cup in your direction to prove her point.

“YOU CAN’T ESCAPE ME, Y/N! IF YOU TAKE TOO LONG, I’LL COME AND GET YOU.” You can’t help but laugh, fully knowing she means it.

Even though you escape her lecture — hearing that same discourse at least once a day ever since you can remember, you know Chaeryeong means well. It’s a matter of fact: you’ve always been the responsible one, caring and supervising others, to the point people always referred to you as “lame” or “boring”. Whether it was at the Diner, with your reckless family, or dealing with your friend’s spontaneousness, you’re unable to help it: being careful comes naturally to you, always thinking about countless opportunities for every situation possible.

Before opening many doors — the place was indeed massive, leaving you to wonder how many rooms there are — you finally find a bathroom. Without rushing, you take a deep breath, washing your face in hopes of easing your mind, too.

For the first time in many hours, you have time to truly think about the events of the day. Weariness infiltrates your bones as you grip both sides of the sink, not daring to look at yourself in the mirror. Looking at your face, your features, means staring at your sister, too. At your father, the whole dirty business you do for a living and how you’re also to blame, no matter how much you avoid taking part in it. You belong in this world, there’s no denying it.

Only you so wish you weren’t.

Sitting on the toilet, you hug your knees, waiting for the tears to come. They never do; you only feel an emptiness inside your tainted soul. Somehow, you’ve already gotten used to this entire mess. Crying and pitying yourself won’t change anything.

The door opens, and Ryujin is standing in front of you before you can make yourself look presentable. She’s as intimidating as she was from afar, her thick boots making her look taller.

“Sorry for taking so long, I needed a moment. I’ll go now.” You get up quickly, trying to brush past her as you murmur excuses for keeping the bathroom all to yourself, even though she doesn’t seem to mind.

With a hand brushing your waist, she says, tone low and husked. “It’s ok. I can take you to somewhere quieter if you’d like.” Her posture is relaxed and patient, waiting for you to answer. “Listening to loud music for too long can be a bother.”

You don’t exactly know why you agree; perhaps it’s her voice, soothing and sensual — even though you somehow know her invite is not one seeking sex, or her dark eyes, staring at you like she could undress your soul and be aware of your deepest secrets. Regardless of the motives, you feel drawn to her, almost as if she’d cast a spell on you, luring you in. So you nod, allowing yourself to enter the labyrinth of corridors as Ryujin walks by your side, without rushing. Only when the two of you stop by a black, wooden door, she turns back to you. You step inside, as the world behind you suddenly turns quiet.

You’re fully aware of the risks you’re taking. She’s a stranger, and you know nothing about each other. You should be jumpy, wary in the least.

Instead, for the first time in many years, there’s not a train of thoughts running through your head, thinking about millions of possibilities and outcomes of every little thing you’ve ever witnessed.

As you walk into the middle of the spacious room, you feel nothing but calm.

Ryujin has good taste.

You’re not stupid: you know the bedroom you’re currently in belongs to her. The walls are made of wood, carved in light brown, and most of the furniture is black, a true portrait of how she presents herself — all dark and mysterious. Her bed stands appealing in the middle, the covers undone and inviting, while numerous papers rest neatly on her desk, but it’s the content on the wall that catches your attention. A map of the country, covered with red strings and pins linking numerous places. There are names written, too, as well as keywords and small texts.

“I’m a good listener. If you’d like to, naturally.” She takes a blunt out of her pocket, gesturing to you. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.” You give her a small smile in acknowledgment. “It’s your room, anyway.”

She laughs. “Smart girl.”

“I’ll pass on your invitation to listen, though.” You continue as you stare at her closely, curious about how she’d react. Her blazer made her shirt ride up, revealing part of her toned abdomen, and you can’t help but ogle, mouth dry at the sight.

God, she’s so hot, sitting casually like that. “As you wish. No problem.” Ryujin doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest, which provides you with enough confidence to start looking around again.

A black wooden bookshelf catches your attention, standing on the opposite side of the windows and the balcony, and you’re appalled by how vast it is. It nearly occupies the entire wall, with numerous books. It’s the only part of the room that has any color besides black, brown, or white, and the books all seem pretty worn out. You brush your fingers through the shelves, lost in paradise.

“Do you expect us to fuck?” You don’t turn to face her as you ask, without shame. Strangely, you feel like you could tell her whatever you wanted to.

She shrugs, adjusting her pillows so she’d lie comfortably, looking rather small in the massive bed. The words leave her mouth so casually like nothing was ever complicated. “If you'd like to, maybe.” Her eyes travel to your body, and you shiver, once again feeling exposed. “You’re pretty. You have a beautiful body, too. So, sure.”

“Why did you bring me here, then? If not to fuck.” You murmur, eyeing her as your fingers brush a specific book, waiting for her permission.

You take it from its place once she nods, freeing the smoke from her lungs. The Waves, highlighted and annotated.

“You looked as if you had many thoughts going on in your head.” She runs her hand through her shiny, pitch-black hair, casually. “This is my quiet place. I figured you could use a little peace for a while, too.”

She was so right. From the time you entered her room, you felt nothing but peace, as if your emotional turmoil had cooled down for a few moments.

Maybe it was the calming energy Ryujin emanates or the way she looks at you so curiously. Anyway, you decide she’s worth it.

You were not exactly fond of meeting new people, much less welcoming them into your life. You didn’t feel the need to add anyone — you could barely keep up with the amount of drama you had, with not that many people. You have a best friend, a father, a stepmother, grandparents, a sister, and her friends who were your acquaintances. Not a massive crowd, but just enough for you.

However, you feel the need to let this girl in, too.

Jumping on the bed, you don’t stop until you’re near enough to feel the warmth of the blunt Ryujin holds. You lean on your elbows, facing down whilst she’s facing up, hands behind her head to support herself as she stares at the ceiling.

“I’m Y/n, nice to meet you.” You say, determined not to feel threatened by her piercing gaze and those midnight eyes that carry such mystery.

Ryujin laughs, shaking the hand you offer. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/n. I’m Ryujin.”

She stares back, her eyes undressing you as if she’s the keeper of all your secrets. You look away. She laughs again.

Your mind wanders to Gaeul’s words, always eager to talk about how you should take more risks and live freely. Perhaps she’s right; you should stop worrying too much and overthinking every single thing.

You snuggle yourself even closer to Ryujin, still deciding. “But are you good?”

She frowns, turning to you. “Probably. But good at what, exactly?”

“In bed, obviously.” You roll your eyes. “Are you a good fuck?”

Being so close to her allows you to see the switch your words provoke. Her eyes darken, and she fixes her posture, no longer carefree and unbothered. No… the girl whose eyes roam over your body is far from inviting or calming. She’s powerful, just as you watched her present herself downstairs, earlier at night. With strong hands, she grabs one of your thighs, bringing you so close you’re able to play with the collar of her silk shirt.

“Why do you ask, Y/n?” Ryunjin’s hands brush your neck in a careful motion, tucking your hair away so she’s able to run her nose through your skin. One look at her, and you know she enjoys toying with you like that too much.

As she must do with anyone, you suppose.

“Well…” You look down, although still leaning at her touch. “‘Cause I want you to fuck me, of course. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be asking.”

She doesn’t mind your impatient tone but doesn’t touch you either, even after your words. If anything, she just keeps staring at your body, as if imagining all the things she’d do.

“And how would I do that, exactly?” You roll your eyes, ready to give her a defiant answer when she grabs you by the chin, ever so gently. “Make sure to be clear with your words, my angel.”

And it’s that tone once again — so low-pitched and raspy, that makes you gulp, barely breathing under the enchanting, mysterious girl’s touches. Besides being in control at all times: when you’ve decided to accompany Ryujin to her bedroom, when initiating this battle of desire… you finally come to realize how different it is, this once. This time, Ryujin’s question presents itself as a warning, its meaning loud and clear even though it was unsaid. If you agreed to this, she would be the one in control. She’d take as much as she pleased, however, you wished her to do.

Something that is so appealing to you. Not because you feel the need to let go; no, you’ve done much of that throughout all of your life — being your family’s pawn, toy, and little doll to show off to other powerful families, making a profit over the image of perfection.

No, Ryujin’s offer is appealing simply because you’re curious to see what she’d do to you. You feel drawn to her, with a sudden urge to be under her touch, to have her inside of you.

You want her to do the most unspeakable, filthy things to your body, bringing you enough pleasure to fuck you dumb, until all of your worries are washed away and long gone.

Her. You want her.

So you stand on your knees, taking your time with unclasping your bra and throwing your shirt off the ground, long hair flowing gracefully as you move, cascading down your hips. It’s only once you’re done that you speak, long after letting her watch as you make a show out of the small act.

“I want you to pleasure me.” You say, with a voice just as lustrous as hers. “I’m sure you’ve been spoiled enough in sex. Prove it to me, then. And if you’re good enough, maybe I’ll satisfy you, too.”

She smiles, exposing her canine teeth as she watches you crawl to her. Within seconds, you’re between her legs, her mouth hot and wet on your clavicle — then wasting no time to go to your breasts, as she kisses and sucks on your skin. Making sure to bruise, to mark her presence. Territorial.

“Your wish is my command, angel of mine.” She murmurs, breath warm on your skin.

Ryujin’s taste is bitter, much like poison. Still, her lips are addicting, and it’s easy to lose yourself in between the sultry kisses you share. Your skin, your insides — you’re on fire, so turned on it burns.

Her hands, skilled and lithe, wander through your body, squeezing and groping as she pleases. Such a tease, she is. You can easily tell how delighted she is to be able to take her time, caressing the insides of your thighs as you huff, impatient. She’s so close, yet so far from where you need her. Your cunt aches, sticky and needy for something, anything.

Yearning for release after such a stressful day, you feel your body trembling with anticipation. Soon enough, you’re under her, both of your clothes long thrown on the ground. It’s hard not to blush with how she’s looking at your naked body, licking her lips as she spits, a long trail of saliva going from her fingers to your wet cunt.

You need more of her. Desperately.

Tugging her hair, you let out a loud whine. “You’re so mean, Ryujin.”

“I am.” Her answer comes immediately, as she lowers her body until her mouth is close to your pussy. She brushes the hair away from her face, eyes still heavily focused on your dripping cunt. Ryujin cups your ass, one of your legs resting on her shoulder as she brings your sex as close to her face as possible. Her eyes are starstruck, long-lost in your body as she parts your folds before giving your cunt a messy, wet kiss.

Her actions are more than enough to turn you into a withering mess: her mouth is everywhere, working her way inside of your walls with such vigor you feel so full, your troubled thoughts long forgotten. She works wonders, her tongue teasing your entrance and alternating between lapping on your clit, circling your hardened bud as you moan, squirming almost desperately. You’ve never been this sensible, yet Ryujin reverberates all of her actions through your body harder than usual — even the mere brush of her fingers has her holding your thighs firmly, to keep you from moving so much and closing your legs away.

Incoherent words leave your mouth so fast that you’d be ashamed if you were able to think about anything. Your long nails scratch her bare back in random patterns, leaving her skin so red you close your hands in a sudden wave of consciousness, shy as you bring them to your chest.

She stops too, ignoring your whines as she looks up to you with a serious face, her mouth swollen and glistening with your juices. “If you stop, I’ll stop.” She grabs your hands, placing them on her once again. It’s so sweet, somehow delicate how she handles you, much different from the way she acts with anyone else. “Don’t hold yourself back.”

You nod, gulping. She has two of her fingers aligned with your slit, spreading your juices through your pussy with that little smug smile of hers before easing them inside. They slide in easily, the gushing sounds filling the room along with your voice. “Ryujin… oh f-fuck!”

“Touch your nipples.” Ryujin commands, mouth closing against your clit once again. She licks and applies a weak suction, not yet enough to overstimulate you. You’re long gone, though, incapable of forming any thoughts on your pretty head, let alone following any commands. She knows it, which is the reason her hands grope your tits with strength, massaging. “You’re sensitive, angel. Touch them for me, will you?”

It seems to work, this time. You mumble a response to her patient tone, hands going straight to your nipples as you cup your breasts. They weren’t exactly big, but certainly not small either. If you squeezed them tightly — as you were currently, doing, you could fit them in your hands. Biting your lip, you flick your thumbs through the hardened buds, circling your areolas as your fingers twist and pinch your nipples.

The action sends a shock of electricity through your body, and you throw your head back in pleasure.

“Good girl, Y/n. God, your tits are so pretty. You look so pretty like this, doing so good for me.” You barely register her words, although it doesn’t seem necessary; if anything, Ryujin seems to be speaking to herself. She lifts her head, fingers thrusting in even deeper as she judges the bruises on your hips with hard eyes. Her voice is different, too, serious as she adds, “Must’ve been a tough day, hm? You’re all bruised, my love. And I haven’t given you any of these.”

“Something like that, I guess.” You murmur, closing your eyes to focus on how good she is making you feel.

She kisses each one of your bruises with delicacy, looking somehow annoyed. Her brows are furrowed, and her lips are pouty, making it easy to tell she’s lost in thought. Because of her reaction, you lift her chin, cocking your head to the sides as you try to figure her out. It seems to wake her up from her trance, instead. Ryujin takes your fingers and sucks, staring at you while her tongue wets your index and thumb just as she was doing to your pussy, moments prior.

This girl’s going to be the death of you.

Her attention returns to your cunt, swollen and red, as she fastens the thrusts on your slit. It hits deep, each movement bringing you closer to the orgasm you ache for. A third finger is added, then, and you feel yourself close to the edge. Ryujin must’ve felt your muscles clenching, too, since she’s quick to give your clit one last, deep suck.

It feels like there’s no air left in the room. The pleasure that was building up in your lower abdomen explodes, with violent waves of pleasure erupting and giving you the best sensation you’ve ever felt. It’s ecstatic, as if thousands of fireworks live in every little space of your body. You feel spectacular, but more than that, you feel alive. With a high cry, you cum, Ryujin’s fingers still working their way inside, helping you ride out from your orgasm. She’s careful to not touch your clit, just staring at your fucked out face as your chest moves rapidly, trying to even your breathing.

After a few minutes, you squirm, expecting her to distance herself and stop touching your cunt.

It’s not what happens, though — in a blink, she’s all over you, working her way up your body with wet kisses until your lips meet once again in a messy kiss.

“You’re relaxed now, right?” She says, sucking on your lower lip. “And you were so perfect, angel. It’s my turn. Can you give me one more? Do you think you can do it for me?”

Suddenly, you’re all hot again, as her fingers thrust into you deeper and deeper. You’re dizzy, more than happy to drink on her and let her drive you into pleasure as she says so.

“R-ryujin…” You chant her name, clinging to the girl.

It doesn’t take you long to cum, this time. The orgasm that drags through your body is strong but slow, leaving you full in more ways than you’ll ever be able to describe.

“So good.” She says, hands tight on your waist and caressing your abdomen, with no rush at all. “You’re doing so good, Y/n.”

Your cunt feels empty without her fingers inside, pussy swollen and pleased. Even though she’s right by your side, you miss her, reaching out for her touches. She’s more than eager to comply, holding you close as she kisses the top of your head, brushing the long strands of hair away from your face.

The two of you stay like that, wrapped up in a warm bubble that has you completely in peace. Your muscles relax, and you feel the tiredness in your bones, pleading for sleep. It’s easy to get lost in Ryujin’s arms, forgetting your duties and obligations until your mind is filled with her.

Just as quickly, you’re thrown back into reality by the doorknob — it’s forced from the outside, although the door doesn’t move, thankfully locked. It’s most likely someone drunk, searching for a place to have fun with someone, but the action is enough for you to remember the reason you’ve attended such a party: an energetic girl with dark hair and the worst sense of humor you’ve ever seen, who was probably worried sick about you and cursing your entire existence.

With that in mind, you get up, grabbing your dispersed clothes on the floor and putting them on. Ryujin’s stare is attentive, following your every move. She’s still comfortable in her bed, not bothering to cover herself as she reaches out for the blunt on her nightstand.

“You can stay, if you’d like.” Her voice has a special effect on you. It makes your body relax instantly, and you breathe in. “Enjoy the quietude. There’s no need to run away.”

“I’m not running away.” You frown, somehow bothered that she thinks so. Grunting, you clarify, “I’d like to… hum, continue this. But my friend’s been waiting for long now. She must be going crazy, thinking I’ve been kidnapped or something. I have to take care of her.”

“Why so?” There it is. That smirk, the air of superiority that adds to Ryujin’s strong façade. It’s almost as if she’s mocking you, playing with her words. “Is she a child? Or just so stupid she can’t take care of herself…”

Your face reddens, and you finish tying your shoes just as quickly as you turn to her, both hands gripping her bed frame so you’re able to jerk your body forward. “Chaeryeong’s not stupid. Watch your fucking mouth.”

People could say anything they wanted about you. In fact, they already did — ever since you were little and your mother had left, people judged and made assumptions about your life. It was impossible not to be a target, with a family like yours, handling the business that you do. It did hurt, at the beginning, but you’ve eventually figured it out: people talked about everyone, and you weren’t special. They were so miserable and uninteresting that they’d criticize every single little thing, no matter how invisible you tried to be. It’s just how they were.

However, any words directed at your best friend are enough for you to get into messy fights. No one was allowed to talk shit about her. Not cheerful, bright Chaeryeong, who had the biggest, cutest smile and the purest intentions in her heart. You’d never allow it.

Seeing how serious you were, Ryujin’s smile dropped. She tapped her blunt in the ashtray, careful to not let the dust spill. “You’re right, she’s not. I apologize.” Although she doesn’t look sorry at all. It’s as if everything is a big joke to her; which, with such a lavish house, you know it most likely is.

Rich people are always assholes.

Humming, you roll your eyes as you try to fix your hair, failing terribly. It’s still as wild as ever, stubbornly fighting your fingers when you run your hands through its entire length, in attempts of detangling something. The subject’s been brushed off when she speaks again, breaking the silence without any awkwardness. “Yeji is keeping an eye on her, anyway. So you don’t need to fry your neurons and die of preoccupation.”

It’s awkward — you’re awkward, meanwhile, the girl looks completely at ease as she takes another hold of smoke into her lungs, naked in all her glory. God, she’s so hot; her muscles are defined, and she’s simply beautiful, like a fallen angel. It takes all of you to not fall down on your knees immediately, begging to eat her out and make her scream in pleasure like she’s done to you. But you’re also tired, and you really need to let your friend know you’re alive and well. There’s nothing more that you hate than being a bother, so you can’t let her alone, wondering if you’ve forgotten about her presence.

“You really are good.” You stare at your hands, letting out a faint giggle. It’s amazing how suddenly shy you are, given how you were begging just minutes prior. “A good fuck, I mean. You are.” In a blink, you’re by the door, gripping the doorknob with an unnecessary amount of strength. “I hope to return the favor, someday.”

“Someday.” She says, tone enigmatic as ever. You’ve noticed she’s annoyingly good at hiding her expressions, always with a bored look on her face. “See you, Y/n.”

You don’t say anything else as you leave the room, losing yourself in the labyrinth of corridors without looking back.

Turns out Chaeryeong is still at the same place she was when you left, thankfully. She jumps into your arms as soon as she sees you, sighing in relief. “I’m going to kill you! Where have you been? I looked everywhere!”

You hold her firmly by the waist, her voice a few quarters higher than usual. Chaery might not be tall, but in this drunken state, she’s heavy, nearly dragging both of you to the ground. She laughs uncontrollably, happy to have you by her side once again.

“The bathroom line was too long.” You lie, taking the drink from her hands as you take a sip. It’s strong, provoking a nauseous sensation that you ignore as you swallow it down.

The lie comes naturally, not because you feel like you have to hide what happened from your best friend, but simply because you find yourself too tired to explain. She’s going to make you repeat yourself as soon as she sobers up again, anyway.

She knows it, though. “Liar! You were doing something.” The girl narrows her eyes, a confused expression on her face as she brushes the hair away from your neck. “Where’d you get a new necklac— Y/n! You dirty whore!”

You can’t help but laugh as she examines the hickeys Ryujin left on your skin, mouth opened in a big “O” — slightly pushing her off you. Chaeryeong stumbles, hitting the wall with her shoulders as she tries to gather her balance.

“I’ll tell you about it later, okay? M’ too tired right now.” You promise, not giving her drink back once she reaches out for it.

Chaeryeong doesn’t seem to mind, jumping up and down in excitement. She grabs you by the shoulders, shaking your body with a smile that nearly covers her entire face. “My girl’s getting some game, wow! I’m so happy for you, Y/n! You have no idea. Do you know how many times I wished you got someone? I seriously thought you were going to turn into a nun or something.”

“Hey!” You protest, “I’m not a prude! The last time I had kissed someone was like, last month or something.”

Chaery stops jumping, thankfully. She pays no mind to your grumbling, twirling, and moving along with the blasting music’s rhythm. “Sure, sure. Whatever you say.”

You eye her with narrowed eyes, but she stops all of her movements before you can give her a sneaky response. Her face pales, and she gulps deeply.

“Are you okay, Chaery?” No response. Chaeryeong’s eyes are fixated on the wall behind you, the colorful lights and blasting music from the living room surely doing nothing but overwhelming her even more.

“Yeah.” She looks up, sighing. “Just felt this sudden urge to t—“ The way she covers her mouth is enough of a sign, for you. Acting quickly, you pull her to the gardens, as Chaeryeong tries her best to not jerk her body forward. It’s immediate: she throws up as soon as she finds a bush to lean on, the effects of the alcohol, adrenaline, and visual stimulation from the party getting to her organism.

“I guess you kept your drinking game high while I was busy?” You ask, trying to lighten the mood. It works, you can tell Chaery’s laughing by the way her small shoulders move. She gives you a thumbs up, too, her face still shoved in between the leaves. “Okay. Are you good to be by yourself for a few moments? I’ll get you some water, then I’ll be right back.”

“Sure.” Your friend manages to say, lying down on the grass. Her hair is all messy, and her face remains pale. “I’m fine now, though. 100%.” “I’m still getting you the water.” You get up from where you were kneeling, too, rushing towards the kitchen entry with hurried steps.

You’re not too worried, though. This wasn’t exactly an unusual situation — sometimes Chaeryeong would drink too much, too fast… sometimes you would. It was a pain in the ass, naturally, and you’d always wake up deeply hungover the next day, but it wasn’t something to be deeply preoccupied with.

Humming to yourself, you open the fridge, in hopes of finding a bottle of fresh water. It was better than going to the bar set in the lively living room and asking for one, anyway. You barely notice a girl standing next to you, handing exactly what you’re looking for. She’s one of Ryujin’s friends, you reckon — her sunset, pin-straight hair compliments her features effortlessly, as her hypnotizing eyes stare at you attentively.

You know a judgmental look when you see one. This one’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

“For your pretty friend.” She says, waiting patiently for you to take the bottle from her hands. You do, still silent, yet your lack of enthusiasm doesn’t scare her away. She keeps babbling, not minding you at all. “I hope she feels better.”

It’s as though she knows something you don’t, and the hidden mockery in the air leaves you uneasy.

“Thanks…” You murmur, playing with the bottle in your hands. Before you brush past her to return to your friend, she adds.

“—Yeji. That’s my name.” Yeji tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, waving you goodbye with feigned innocency. “Bye, Y/n. Make sure Chaeryeong arrives home safely.”

Chaery’s had an eye on her earlier, nearly fucking her from afar while you were in your own world, lost in thoughts. They probably had some fun before you came back to your friend, that’s all.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself as you lean next to Chaeryeong again, trying to ease the knot in your stomach as you give her the plastic bottle.

“Here, don’t drink it all at once.” You say, chuckling as the girl nearly drowns herself in the water, desperate to get rid of the bitter taste in her mouth. “It’s been a long day, Chaeryeong. Let’s go home.”

She gladly takes the hand you offer, groaning as she shakes the remains of grass from her pants. “I had fun, though. Today was a fun day, Y/n. Did you have fun too?”

There’s mischief all over her face, making it impossible for you to feel down. It’s her gift, being able to lift your spirits with her lame jokes and energetic nature.

“Of course, Chaery. I always have fun when I’m with you.” You nod.

Your words please her, and she leans her head against your shoulder as you make your way to the car, side by side.

It’s late, and you’re tired. You’d handle it all in the morning.

Despite the weariness that penetrates thick in your bones, you’re punctual as always, doodling in your journal by the counter as the sun fights its way up against the messy fog of the morning. It’s a routine you’ve been doing ever since you were a teenager: going out, partying, and going to so many places until dawn, while still showing up to work at the Diner in the following morning.

You’d get some rest, eventually. For now, the four hours of sleep you had were enough to keep you up, somehow Besides, Saturday mornings are always some of the slowest days at the place, with hardly anyone coming for breakfast. People liked to sleep in, trying to gather all the hours they’ve lost from having to wake up early for work, you guess — which is why the place is empty, no customers to be seen.

There’s a hard slam on the corner, and you lift your eyes to follow the sound. You’re greeted by Rosé: her baby-pink hair is even messier than usual, and her leather jacket seems to be the only thing protecting her from the chilly weather. It does little to ease her, though — Your sister’s shorts expose her legs, dirty and scratched. At least her crop top is thick, the black clothing making her seem even more intimidating. And she smells of smoke, instead of her usual cologne.

“You look like shit.” You’re the first to break the silence, as your eyes return to your sketch. It’s not an easy thing to do, but you try your best to act indifferent to your sister’s piercing stare. “I’m taking you haven’t had any sleep at all.”

She’s fuming, you know that. Somehow, Rosé’s cold attitude is much worse than her red fire. Her quietness scares you, as it should. It’s never a good sign.

“Have you ever been anything other than useless, all your life?” She spits, and her words hurt, no matter how long you’ve mentally prepared yourself to have that talk, ever since you left the warehouse. “I asked you to do one thing, Y/n. One fucking thing, and you managed to fuck it all up! God, you’re such a failure.”

Your mouth is dry, all of your courage going down the drain as you stare at the woman in front of you. Suddenly, you’re a little kid again, playing your part as Rosé’s little doll so you’d receive a smile, a praise, anything from her. You’d do anything to get her to acknowledge you, having to fight for her attention like everyone else.

But not anymore.

She hits the counter again, visibly enraged. You shove your finger at her chest, fighting back before she destroys you with her words — like she’s so good at.

“And you’re a fucking liar! Fuck you, Rosé. You fucking lied to me, saying we’d meet Wendy because you knew damn well I’d say no to dealing with Jinsoul. And you know what? I was fucking right!” Saying the words out loud is enough to give you courage. When you speak again, your tone is low, sharp like she’d taught you. “We could’ve gotten seriously hurt out there, Rosé. And you were fully aware of that when you sent us into that fucking trap! You’re in no position to demand anything.”

Rosé runs her hands through her hair, and you can tell she’s exhausted, too. She’s always hidden things from you, so it’s impossible to know what’s going on in her life. Although you can’t bring yourself to care, anymore.

“We need that money, Y/n!” She shouts, exasperated. If her stare could burn, you’d be long dead. “How do you think things work, huh? Who do you think is paying for that fancy college of yours — our house, the food we eat every day? It’s me! I provide for us, with that dirty money you hate so much. So wake up! Fucking idiot. Stop being such a burden and help, for once.”

You know it’s true. Even though your father is supposedly the one in charge, Rosé is the true leader. Needless to say, you’re grateful for all of those things.

Which doesn’t make Rosé any less of an asshole.

“You’re a shit sister.” You lean on the chair, your icy tone placing a blunt contrast to her fiery screams. “And an absolutely horrible person. I despise you.”

A flash of hurt passes through Rosé’s arms, so fast you wonder if you’ve imagined it. But as fast as it happens, it’s over with. Instantly, her defenses are up again, and your sister looks down on you, rolling her eyes as she crosses her arms in the middle of her chest.

“You’re tiring me.” She huffs, her tone making it clear she is done with the conversation. Rosé leans on the counter and shoves your shoulders on a punch before storming away, slamming the entry door loudly. “I’m going out, to clean the mess you’ve made. Like always.”

Tears start to cloud your vision as you watch her hop on her car, the roaming of the engines making her feelings clear enough for anyone to understand. She’s an asshole, you know it; but it’s hard to not be upset by her lack of care towards you. You long for her approval and affection, getting anything other than that is enough to leave you deeply hurt.

It’s frustrating, to feel like that over such a shitty situation. You don’t even know if the tears you shed come from sadness or from anger, as you brush them away from your face.

A lithe figure hits the window to grab your attention, and you’re deeply surprised to see Ryujin barging in, walking towards you in confident steps. She chooses the table closest to you, resting her arms over the chairs next to hers.

“Good morning, Y/n.” She says, completely comfortable.

“Morning.” You can’t help but frown, confused. At least her presence offers enough of a distraction from your actual problems. “What are you doing here, Ryujin?”

Ryujin smiles, her eyes small and dazed, so pretty it should be a crime. The rays of weak sunlight brighten her face, making her seem almost innocent. Much different from the night prior. “I heard this place had great food, so I came to check. I woke up pretty hungry, you know.”

“Sure.” You hum, eyeing her suspiciously.

“I’ll have some waffles, pancakes, and coffee. Black, and with no sugar, please.” She says, after looking at the menu. You nod, making your way to the kitchen as quickly as possible, in hopes of escaping her intense stares.

It’s unsettling, how you’re able to feel her gaze burning holes on your back. The sensation takes you back to the night prior, a tingling sensation looking for a place in your core. You push it away, opening the double doors of the cooking area.

“Yoona unnie?” You look for the woman, watching her put her phone down to pay you attention. Smiling, you hand her a small note. “We have a customer.”

“Oh, so early! No one comes on Saturdays.” She mumbles, peeking out behind you to spot Ryujin, who stares at the road in boredom. “I’ll prepare it quickly. Meanwhile, you can go entertain her.”

You laugh at Yoona’s suggestion, shaking your head. “I’d rather wait here, with you.”

Yoona’s face turns serious, as she points at you. “No one is allowed in the kitchen while I cook. Goodbye, Y/n.” You grumble, having no choice but to go back to Ryujin while the woman pushes you out the doors.

Having coffee without any sugar is a trait reserved for psychopaths, which you think suits Ryujin well. You pour her drink in your favorite mug, before returning to her table.

“I thought you also cooked.” The raven-haired girl stands when you approach, promptly pulling the chair in front of herself.

She gestures for you to sit, and you frown, ready to argue that you are still working. The knowing look she gives you is enough to make you sit down, obedient.

“I can’t cook to save my life.” You explain, giggling to cover the shame of having to admit such a fact. “Yoona does it effortlessly, though. Her pastries are the best.”

Ryujin nods, scrunching her nose as she looks around. “And where’s your friend, may I ask?” Her smirk turns playful, pointy canines exposed at you. “Are you not taking care of her right now?”

“She’s not a child, right? She can take care of herself.” Although you play along in her game — repeating what she’d told you the day prior, you’re also quick to add.“Besides, she’s sleeping right now. Chaery always sleeps until late after a party.”

“Lucky her.” Ryujin whistles, and you agree. You wish you could sleep like your best friend, too. Not only did Gaeul often sleep until late at noon, but she’s also the heaviest sleeper you’ve ever met, unlike yourself. You envy her ability to sleep through literally anything possible.

Yoona calls for you to get Ryujin’s order, which you quickly do. The dishes look impeccable once you place them on the table. Yoona never misses.

It wasn’t rare to have customers who came by themselves, with the desire to have a moment of peace and enjoy their meals. With that in mind, you motion to leave, leaving Ryujin alone to do just that. She surprises you by grabbing your hand, ever so gently.

“This one’s for you, actually.” She pushes the pancake plate in your direction, hand still holding on to yours. Her fingers trace gentle circles in your palm. “Would mind joining me? I hate to eat alone.”

Leaving you without words is, apparently, one of Ryujin’s many talents. Once again, you feel drawn to her, incapable of saying no. It’s something in her eyes, you suppose; the way she stares at you, attentive, from the moment you first met each other. She acknowledges every little detail about you, and most importantly, she _listens_. You didn’t know someone could understand you entirely like that — it’s both thrilling and scary, to know you’re so aligned.

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” You murmur, and she shakes her head, in a clear sign that you don’t.

The two of you eat, soon engaged in lively conversation. It’s a pleasant surprise, to know Ryujin is much more than a pretty, intimidating face: she’s smart, funny, and very attentive. You both enjoy the same books, and she’s respectful and mindful when sharing her perspective about topics you disagree on. Time flies, and you find yourself comfortable in her presence.

Getting you to talk about yourself is difficult — even Chaeryeong has to ask repeatedly to get information from you. You just can’t help it: being raised to be a discreet, private person has created the habit of bottling up your emotions, and hiding things until you couldn’t handle them anymore.

However, the words flow freely with Ryujin. You want to share about your life, your hobbies, the people you love… it’s just somewhat easy when it comes to her.

And she doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. Far from that, Ryujin drinks from you: acknowledging every little detail about yourself, enchanted and marveled.

You barely notice how quickly you’ve eaten breakfast, not even a small bite left. Ryujin is surprised, too, to not have noticed either. You’ve distracted her and knocked down her defenses without even meaning to do so.

“Okay, so I might’ve come here with a purpose…” She says, and you shake your head. Of course, she did. “In my defense, I found this on my bedside table, a little after you left, and it looked pretty fancy to just keep to myself.”

In her hands, there’s a cross necklace, shining in bright silver. Your fingers go to your neck unconsciously, in hopes of touching the one you kept with yourself at all times — only to hold on to the air, instead. You grasp, bile bundling up in your stomach at the thought of the hours you’ve spent without your precious necklace.

As soon as you reach out for it, Ryujin holds the jewelry away from your hands.

“May I?” She unclasps the lock, gesturing to where it should be rested.

You nod, eager to have your necklace back. Holding your hair away from your face, you turn around, waiting for her. Her breath is hot on the back of your neck, and for a moment, you think she might kiss you. Instead, she takes a step back, a proud look on her face as she runs her thumb against the bruises on your collarbone. “There. All done, angel.”

“Thank you.” The words that leave your mouth are sincere, and you can’t muster how grateful you truly are. “I… Thank you, really. This is so important to me. How can I repay you?”

No matter how much you might hate Rosé at the current moment, that necklace means everything to you. It reminds you of a time when things were less complicated. When you were too young to understand what was truly going on in your life, lost in the innocence of childhood.

“Don’t worry about it.” Ryujin brushes it off, getting up quickly. She drops some money on the table, definitely much more than what she’s ordered. “We’ll see each other soon. Bye, Y/n. You look beautiful, by the way.”

Just as fast as she appeared, Ryujin’s gone. Leaving you to wonder what’s underneath all that mysterious façade, you go back to your chores, unable to brush the raven-haired girl off from your thoughts.

—

Rosé’s been having one hell of a week. Weeks, or even a month.

As if dealing with her family’s business wasn’t enough, with people constantly waiting for an opportunity to betray her and plan their downfall, this new gang that’s been stealing all her clients and supplies has been pissing her off in ways she didn’t deem possible. And now, she has your stupid feelings to worry about. God, you’re so damn sensitive it drives her crazy.

“Rosie?” Lisa’s voice reminds the woman she’s in the middle of a meeting — one she called herself. “What’s going on? You’ve been distracted ever since you walked through the door.”

“Yeah. This fucking sucks, but don’t fret too much. It’s not like we’ve not dealt with situations like those before. Those bitches will get what they deserve.” Jisoo says, in an attempt to soothe Rosé’s nerves. Her tone is excited — perhaps too much.

She’s always been a little masochist.

They’re right, which only makes Rosé more frustrated. She should be planning her revenge, not pouting over a stupid fight.

“I know, it’s just—“ She sighs. “Never mind. Let’s get this over with.”

They all nod, chatting vividly, but Rosé’s phone lights up before she’s able to join the conversation. There’s a message from an unknown number, which is unusual.

The content of it is what unsettles her the most. Her mouth dries and the air runs from her lungs as she stares at the image sent — A picture of you, boobs covered by someone’s arms and bare waist filled with bruises.

The message under it says Thank you for the guns and the snack. I’ll make sure to come back for more, later.

It doesn’t have a slight indication of who sent it, but Rosé doesn’t need a confirmation. She knows exactly who did.

“Jennie!” She screams, even though the girl is not far away from herself, sitting by the long table in the dining room. “Grab the stuff immediately. We’ll do this in my house, instead.” And so she turns, barging orders as she goes.

No one’s going to use her little sister as bait and live.

This newcomer might’ve had a few strikes of beginner's luck, but Rosé’s patience had run thin. She wouldn’t tolerate any insolences anymore, no.

She’ll have Ryujin’s head.

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