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testrella · 17 days

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CRAZY RICH ASIANS…! G.SATORU X READER

𝜗𝜚 | CHAPTER ONE : fight! fight! fight!

NEXT… CHAPTER TWO : rare sighting.

megumi stood in front of his classroom, paper in hand and slightly trembling. he was never one for public speaking but he understood how much it meant to his favorite teacher to present. the timid boy excelled in school since the beginning, so this should’ve been an easy A.

his project was based on a historical figure, and the battles they fought. almost like a biography. he couldn’t remember all the details since he started and finished the night before, but the key points were definitely noted. yes, megumi was the type to start a project assigned two months ago the night before it’s due. he believes he works beautifully under immense pressure.

“speak up boy.” the boy’s voice was stern, cutting through the awkward silence in the classroom.

the silence was soon replaced with the students giggling. it was hard to differentiate the giggles, if it was out of nervousness or to taunt him.

he wasn’t that quiet. megumi thought that perhaps that comment was genuine, and they actually couldn’t hear him. but the mumbling in the back of the class told a different story.

“i bet you could punch him, and he wouldn’t even see it coming.” one of the boy’s whispered, quiet enough to not get in trouble but loud enough to disturb megumi.

perhaps he could’ve used the T.H.I.N.K method before speaking his mind. maybe then he wouldn’t be kicking a boys face and punching another.

now looking back at it, with adrenaline running through his veins, there was no way he could’ve avoided a fight. his fists were itching to feel something at the moment.

one of them lunged at him, shoving him backwards and almost losing his balance. another swings at him at which megumi easily dodged. megumi catches his balance, being fouled by anger, he swings without thinking.

after that, megumi blacks out and couldn’t remember what he did next. next thing he knows, he’s sitting awkwardly in the dean’s office. he wished you didn’t leave to get ice, he felt perfectly fine. he’d much rather deal with the lecture with the comfort that you were there.

the adrenaline starts slowly leaving his body as the dean’s voice goes in and out his head, like a distant drone in his ears.

“…able to knock out three out of the five and broke one kid’s nose. what would your father have to say to this?”

“he is not my father..” megumi said while staring at his bruised and bloodied knuckles. at least he would be proud that he won the fight, right?

“woah there little lady, you okay?. seems like we’re both in a hurry today.” the six foot tall male joked with a teasing and amusing tone.

you looked up, still slightly dazed from bumping into him. you had never seen him around the school, let alone anywhere. the way he was dressed would have you think he belonged in a different tax bracket.

he covered head to toe in designer, it didn’t take a genius to figure it out. the suit’s fabric looked to be around a month’s worth of rent. one accessory that stood out was his sunglasses.

as stylish as the glasses were, wearing it indoors called for suspicious behavior. it gave him an aura of mystery that immediately set off alarms in your head.

“excuse me sir, i don’t mean to be rude but you cannot walk around the school without checking in. please turn around and check in.” you said in the firmest way possible, speaking to him as if he were a wanted man.

as attractive as he was, the students’ in the school were your top priority. plus, who would trust a man wearing sunglasses indoors?!

he raises his hands in defense and flashes you a charming smile, “of course, i understand and i apologize. i was just in a bit of a rush, i’m satoru gojo, here’s my ID.”

he pulls out his drivers licenses from his wallet and hands it to you.

“you see, i was called by the dean that my boy got into a bit of a..” you watch as he struggles to find the right words to paint megumi in a good light, “disagreement..?”

“oh! you’re megumi’s fath- i mean guardian!” you continue to examine his ID before handing it back to him. “i’m his home room teacher, we’ll be in the meeting together. please allow me to escort you.”

you motioned for him to follow you, and led the way down to the dean’s office. throughout the small trip, the ice bag in your hand drips away as he makes conversation.

“soooo, you’re a teacher here?”

you looked at him funny, “yes, i told you i’m megumi’s home room teacher.”

his eyes widen as he realized that his question wasn’t the brightest. you watched as he fiddled with his collar and stutters over his next question.

“r-right i knew that. how long have you been working here? you look pretty young.” his tone was full of curiosity but his eyes lingered on you. even with his sunglasses on, you could feel his piercing gaze on you.

“i’ve been working here for 4 years, started when i was 22.” the conversation was then cut short after arriving in front of the door with bold lettering that spelled out ‘DEAN YAMAMOTO.’

you take a deep breath before opening the door, “principal yamamoto, this is mr.gojo. he’s megumi’s uh- guardian.”

you walk over next to megumi before kneeling down. you gently place the melting ice bag over his knuckles that he was desperately trying to hide. his expression was unreadable, there was no telling what was going through his head.

“can you stay with me..?” megumi asked gently. the principal overheard and dismissed you.

“miss. l/n, thank you for escorting mr. gojo. you may take your leave now.” before you could protest, his assistant was already at the door, waiting to take you away.

“actually, i’d prefer if miss. l/n stayed for this meeting. she was there, she’s able to provide more insight on the situation.” gojo then turns to you, “only if that’s okay with you, miss. l/n.”

by then, gojo had already taken off his sunglasses and you were able to stare into his eyes. his eyes were a beautiful icy blue and showed a rare genuine remorse most parents lack. despite not being megumi’s father, there was a charming and dedicated figure for megumi.

“of course, i’d like to start off by talking about megumi as a student.” you sit down in the middle, megumi to your right, gojo to your left. “his grades are excellent and he makes an effort in my class. i cannot speak for his other teachers but he is top of my class.”

you look over at megumi before continuing, “to make things clear, i believe fighting is never the answer. but those boys have been awful to him. i have tried everything and the school has done nothing to punish those kids.”

megumi glances at you, then back at gojo. gojo, the silly goofy man he is, is smiling ear to ear. it annoys megumi to an extent but he shrugs it off.

“and i completely agree with miss. l/n. i’d like the school to open an investigation and take a closer look on what’s been going on. it shouldn’t have taken my megumi to break a kid’s nose for something to happen.” gojo huffs out and crosses his arms while shaking his head. it’s times like these that gojo was glad he taught megumi how to protect himself.

the dean and gojo come to a conclusion. he agreed to pay for the medical expenses as long as the students were punished accordingly and put in another class. it was a win for both megumi and yourself. you no longer had to deal with their disruptive behaviors.

before heading back to your class, gojo pulls you aside. “miss. l/n, i’d like to personally thank you. your presence in that meeting truly helped megumi get out of this.”

he looks around his surroundings, analyzing it before speaking, “megumi has told me how much he loves your class, and i believe the world needs more people like yourself.”

your cheeks flushed as he grabbed both your hands and interlinked them with his. he massages your knuckles for a bit before pulling away. you watched as he pulled out an envelope from his jacket.

“if there’s anything else you need in life, please know that i’m only one phone call away.” his charming eyes stare intensely into yours as he then hands you the envelope.

before you could thank him or even question what he meant by that last sentence, megumi starts pulling him away. you watch as the 15 year old boy pushes gojo away from you, complaining how ‘weird’ he was acting.

you looked down at the envelope in your hands. your hands fiddled with it before finally opening it. as your opening it, a business card falls out.

GOJO CLAN® SATORU GOJO | HEAD OF CLAN | HEIR TO ALL PHONE : +81 ### ### #### EMAIL : [email protected] WEBSITE : www.GojoClan.com

and inside the envelope, you find yourself ¥30,000.

it is currently 9:57 p.m and you’re sitting criss cross applesauce on your living room floor. you watch the envelope sitting on your coffee table. you wait for it to disappear since you refuse to believe there’s ¥30,000 in your home.

it was unbelievable that someone could willingly throw it away to somebody they did not know. it felt wrong. no, it felt dirty.

a part of you wanted to call the number on his business card, demand he take the money back and block him on everything. but ¥30,000 was just enough to cover your rent for the month.

you moved to tokyo as a foreigner a few years ago and it hasn’t been easy to keep up financially. there are many things you’ve yet to try due to your financial situation. maybe he was the blessing you needed in life.

before you could fully comprehend the situation, your phone rings. you ignore it and wait for it to stop, and it does for a minute. then it starts ringing again. it doesn’t stop until you decide to pick up.

“hello?”

“is this miss. y/n l/n?” an unfamiliar voice responds back. it was a female voice that had a stern, and demanding tone.

“yes, may i ask who this is?”

“good evening, i’m yuki tanaka and calling on behalf of mr. gojo satoru. i’m please to inform you that you have been invited to an exclusive dinner organized by mr. gojo himself.”

your brows furrowed as you listen intensely. it seemed like some odd prank pulled by one of your students. but with the information being presented, it was too elaborate for it to be a secondary student.

“the dinner shall take place this friday evening in the prestigious gojo grand hotel & resort located in central tokyo.”

you spoke up before she could continue, “i’m so sorry what did you just say? he owns a hotel?! wait- what is this about, this is so much information you process.” you mumbled the last sentence. you run your hand through your hair as you begin to piece the information together.

“i apologize for speaking too fast to your liking. shall i send an email with the details for friday’s dinner? therefore you can decide on your own time if you can RVSP.”

“y-yes! my email is y/-“

“y/n.l/[email protected], yes i’m aware. mr. gojo has done extensive research on you.” the lady behind the line then starts to backpedal, “i mean mr. gojo has, he has not done a background check. he- uh, i’ll send the email. have a good night.”

the line goes dead before you can further question her knowledge of your personal information. a sickening pit starts to form in your stomach. how did defending a student’s actions lead to this? then a notification on your phone pops up.

dear miss. y/n l/n,

we hope this email finds you well. we are writing this on behalf of gojo satoru, heir to the gojo clan. the details provided below are in correlation of the organized dinner.

DATE : this friday. TIME : 7:00 p.m LOCATION : gojo grand hotel & resort, private imperial room #6

we hope to see you there. warm regards, yuki tanaka & on behalf of the gojo clan

tag list: @roscpctals99 @poeticlovefanpage @mistyheart @sureconfused @chilichopsticks @lightshowerrr @faeryminnyx @0001010dog @myabae @n1vi @therealestpussyeater r @kolpvii @sleepykittycx @browrm @tojisworm-5 @universallystrangeravenue @catobsessedlady @shivzypuff @nico707 @invisible-mori @peqch-pie @dilflover-3 @lovelivelaygh1324 @mo0sin @gojoracle @foliea @honoredalone @goldenglow149 @portgas459ace @sealsu @misorastars @hyori2 @selysixn @silkija @prettylvne @r0ckst4rjk @ritsatoru @starlostwish @yihona-san06 @zoeyflower @mx-mekla @iaminyourfloors @gabi-moureira @thesharkcollector @misorastars @hyori2 @selysixn @miffysoo @lordbugs @mimidonottouch

a/n: thank you soooo sooo much for the support & as much as i would love to rage everybody, i think i will be closing my tag list..! it’s a bit of a hassle to do it on my phone but i’ll still add you if i can!! for some reason, some ppl cannot be tagged & i’m not sure howwww to fix it. the usernames are spelled right, it just won’t pop up for some so i do apologize for that inconvenience.

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emjee · 2 days

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hiiiiiiiiii I've had three glasses of wine and here's a WIP preview of the fic I'm calling "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood (Library)" (aka Steve Rogers gets a library card circa 2011 and quickly learns about Librarians Vs. The PATRIOT Act)

“I can help who’s next.”

The next man in line at the reference desk of the Brooklyn Public Library was so handsome that Marian’s brain quickly supplied a list of five potential nicknames for him that the staff could use among themselves if he became a regular.

“Hi, I was uh, wondering about getting a library card?”

“Sure, I can help you with that! Are you a Brooklyn resident?”

“For a long time.”

“Have you had a card with us before? If you have I’ll check and see if you’re still in our system.”

“I did, but it was a very long time ago.” Neighborhood kid, she wondered, maybe just moved back to the old stomping grounds?

“Well, we keep the records for a couple of years, and we do like to check so we avoid duplicates. What would the name on file have been?”

“Is there something else you can search by?”

“If it’s under a name you don’t use we can try address and date of birth.”

“My birthday’s July 4th.”

A year would have been helpful, but they could circle back to that. “What’s it like sharing a birthday with a country?” she asked as she started typing.

“Well, the fireworks always made me feel special when I was a kid.”

“I’m sure. Do you remember what address we might have had on file?”

He took a moment to reply, and when he did his voice was calm, but soft enough that she had to learn forward to hear him. “I don’t think it’s there anymore.”

House fire? Gentrification?

This sort of thing happened from time to time—a patron came in who clearly had a story that made getting them what they needed less straightforward that it might otherwise have been. That wasn’t a problem; sorting that sort of thing was literally what the fine people of Brooklyn paid her for, but she was always curious about people’s stories. Sometimes they told you, sometimes they didn’t. She wasn’t going to ask, though. Curiosity or no, it was ultimately none of her business.

“None of that’s a problem,” she assured him. “I can make you a new card right now, if you have an ID and proof of address. Driver’s license would work for both, or a passport, state ID, student ID plus a piece of mail…”

“This is going to sound like a silly question, probably…” He looked at the ceiling, like he was trying to figure out how to phrase it.

“No such thing,” she said lightly. “Besides, we’ve probably heard it before. Probably ten times a day.”

“If I do get a card, does anyone…know? Besides you all, I mean.”

Marian sat straighter in her chair and immediately became all business. “Not a silly question at all. Any record that identifies you by name is confidential under New York state law. We don’t even let law enforcement have it.”

A genuine grin dawned on his face and she immediately thought of three more possible nicknames. “Seriously?”

“Not unless they’ve got a warrant or a subpoena.”

“Huh. But it would have to be under my legal name?”

“We do need to have it on file, but if you have a name you’d rather use, we can make a note in the record. That’s the name your mail would come addressed to, and what the staff would call you.”

She watched him glance down, smile, and put a hand in his pocket.

“Yeah,” he said, producing his wallet and handing her his ID. “In that case.”

She set the ID on the counter in front of her while she opened a new card registration form and didn’t give it a proper look until she had her hands on the keyboard.

Well. That certainly explained a lot.

After entering ROGERS STEVEN GRANT into the record in a rapid clatter of keyboard strokes, she glanced back up at him and said, “What would you like me to put in the preferred name field.”

He gave it a moment’s thought. “Fred.”

She couldn’t suppress a smirk. “Excellent choice. Same last name?”

“Joke’s not as good if I change it.”

“Fair point.” She grabbed a fresh card from the drawer and scanned the barcode into the system, then saved the record. “Welcome to the Brooklyn Public Library, Mr. Rogers.”

#fic #mine #steve rogers #captain america #wip #mg says stuff #fixed the typos thank u augacity #best friend for this very reason

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slavic-roots-western-mind · 9 months

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Backpack must-haves: Exam edition

My previous post covered the every day college backpack essentials, but exams usually have their own particular set of must-haves.

The last thing you need is to be frantically throwing random things inside your bag on the morning of the exam, when you could be taking the time to go over the main notes and to gather your thoughs and focus.

1. The pencil case

Depending on the uni, you can bring your bag inside the examroom and put it under your desk, or leave your bag outside and bring just a see-through pencil case into the exam room.

Regardless, bring a clear pencil case, or a plastic bag or a ziplock bag, and be sure to have enough working pens (running out of ink in all pens is a re-occurring nightmare of mine), pencils, an eraser, sharpener, calculator, highlighters.

If in doubt, just ask your tutor few weeks before, or check your uni's exam policy.

2. Wallet.

Student ID, some cash for the bus ride back and a coffee with a quick snack, driver's license.

No need to bring every single piece of documentation, you can save that for later if applying or re-applying for a student visa if you currently are or will be an international student soon e.g. exchange student, applying for grad programs, summer programs etc.

3. Water bottle

Once again, a clear or see-through water bottle is the way to go, especially for winter exams. Maybe it's just me, but the dry winter month's have me coughing like there's no tomorrow. The only way I'm making it through is with throat lozenges, my tea thermos and water.

4. A jacket, hoodie, or something warm

Exam rooms are notoriously cold, so bring some sort of jacket. The last thing you need is to catch a cold and spend the next exam's red-eyed and sniffling.

5. Health and beauty case

This is a must bring regardless of where you go.

Tampons, pads, painkillers, any meds that you may need, deodorant, hand sanitizer, tissues etc.

This may seem like a tad too much, but trust me on this. It's better to be overprepared rather than underprepared.

6. A summary of the most important concepts/theories/formulas etc.

Should you study the morning of your exam, all the way until you enter the exam room or should you just chill and focus on keeping calm? A debated question, so any insights from the poll would be greatly appreciated.

Nonetheless, most people that I know still end up going over the concepts minutes leading up to the exam, or during their commute to uni, so bring a quick guide just in case.

Even if you don't use it, it's still good practise to write your notes out to remember and understand them better.

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that1videogameplayer · 10 months

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Jack/Joseph headcanons

-Jack thinks he has the best and most effective pouting face ever known to humanity and can work on anybody

-In reality MC just let's him get whatever he wants because he actually looks constipated when he's pouting and MC find it funny

-Jack can be very resourceful, he learned it from living on the streets in the past

-As Joseph his favorite class was drama class, which is way he was so quick to audition for Sunny Day Jack

-Another reason why Jack is so muscular is because to he used to take on heavy lifting jobs like movers or warehouse workers

-Jack likes to let MC eat first and eat what's left because he understands how expensive food can be and being homeless in his youth, he can't bare to see wasted food

-Joseph was the type of student to go to class just to sleep or to be the class clown depending on his mood, there is no inbetween

-Joseph picked up smoking since it was so easy to steal it from his father and to look cool, but decided to adopt the habit of smoking because of how addicting smoking can be

-If Joseph was born in the 2000s or in the late 90s, as he got older he would probably start a YouTube channel

-Reason why he started a Youtube channel is just for fun, and hey, if somehow he did become successful he would have money and attention so he thought "why not?"

-Though he knows how to drive, Joseph doesn't have a drivers license

-He didn't have the money to pay for a driver's test and by the time he turned the legal age the drive he couldn't risk showing his ID to even start the test, in fear of being recognized

-The only reason he knows how to drive is because he observed how the people who decided to give him a lift opperated the car

-Joseph sometimes wonder where he would be now, if he actually worked hard at school, graduated, and got excepted into university or collage

-Joseph has nimble fingers from pick pocketing a lot

-Jack also has nimble fingers but he uses it for a different purpose...

#sunny day jack #sdj #headcanons

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aliciameade · 10 days

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Darkness at Dawn - Ch. 6

Title: Darkness at Dawn Author: aliciameade Rating: M/E Pairing: Stephanie Smothers/Emily Nelson Summary: Even Bonnie & Clyde met their fate eventually.

Set five years after "Baby."

Also on AO3

Happy Pride Month. 😈

“Back so soon?”

Stephanie smiles at the guard manning the visitation desk after passing her freshly printed Rhode Island driver's license through the window. “Couldn’t stay away. You all make it so hospitable.”

He registers her in the system with a laugh and returns her ID. “Make sure you stay on this side this time, Ms. Smothers.”

“I’ll do my best,” she replies politely, though she knows she’s about to wish she was on the other side. She drops her wallet into her purse and takes a seat, waiting until they call her name.

It has taken months to resurrect her old life, to get her documentation in order, and to work with her attorney to dismantle her manufactured identity. Most of what they’d established in Santorini had been seized by the government; Greece didn’t hesitate when it came to finding sources of money. But she was able to transfer ownership of her bakery to her assistant manager. Was able to send a note to Emily’s football team, assuring them that Coach Reid was okay and that she’d had to return to the USA for a family emergency and sent her apologies and is cheering them on from afar. She could only hope that news of their arrest and deportation hadn’t gotten to the students, even if all the parents knew.

She spent hours on the phone with their friend Helen, who’d been so good to them for so long and looked after their boys without question. She had a lot of questions and Stephanie answered them as politely and vaguely as she could get away with, mostly deflecting to ask about their friends in the community.

It’s taken months to petition the court to finally allow her to visit Emily. Detective Summerville had the district attorney fight it every step of the way, arguing the two of them together were too dangerous, but her attorney had won out: the argument? Emily Nelson is in prison. There’s nothing Stephanie visiting her could possibly do that would result in more broken laws.

She can’t help the tears that come when she sits down across from Emily for the first time, a pane of glass and a lifelong prison sentence separating them. She picks up the receiver and presses her hand to the glass. Emily does the same.

“Hi, baby,” Emily says, emotion evident even in her own usually steady voice. “You look good.” She’d put extra effort in today; she wanted to look especially nice today.

Emily looks good, too, despite her time in prison. Emily will always look good to Stephanie.

“Are you okay?”

“Surviving,” Emily says cooly. “But I miss you. I miss knowing you’re close.”

“I miss you, too, Em. Why did you do it?” she asks, voice croaking as the tears overwhelm her. “Why?”

“Because you didn’t deserve any of this. You’re too good for this. Too good for me.”

“That’s not true at all. Don’t say that.”

Emily shakes her head. “Look at me, baby. This is who I am. It’s who I’ve always been.” Stephanie knows she’s harkening back to her life before she became Emily Nelson. That she and her dearly departed twin sister had burned down their home and killed their father. “Enough about me; how are the boys? Tell me what’s going on. Tell me everything.”

Stephanie gives her as much of an update as she can in the thirty minutes they’re allotted. She and Miles are living in a small apartment in Providence. She’d chosen it, much to Sean’s dismay, to be close to Nicky as Sean was now a professor at Brown University. The boys had been through so much; they deserved to be allowed to remain brothers. Sean finally agreed to allow Stephanie to see Nicky, but only in public, in a controlled setting to ensure she doesn’t kidnap him. Not that she would, not now. His life is finally stable again. He’s in his first year of high school, like Miles. He still calls Stephanie ‘mom.’ It irritates Sean something fierce, but he doesn’t interfere with it, and he doesn’t monitor their phone calls anymore. She has a job at a local bakery. Miles had played baseball in the Spring and was now thinking about hockey. Nicky was trying out for wrestling.

She’s been working on explaining to the boys everything that happened, though she’s elected to leave out the violent details. They’re old enough to know their mothers didn’t make the wisest choices, even if, at the time, they felt like the correct ones to make, that they were chasing a utopia that perhaps they weren’t owed. She’d explained that Emily had a twin sister who was troubled, and they’d used that to their advantage to erase Emily and her secrets, to collect life insurance benefits, and to live a new life together. She’d explained that it was wrong and selfish and that it had been what they thought was the easy way out.

Time proved that it was not.

“I’m working on it,” she answers when Emily asks if Sean will ever allow Nicky to visit her. “He might be coming around. Your confession took the wind out of his sails. He wanted you to suffer and I think he’s starting to realize you’re suffering in your own way now. Give it time.”

Emily wipes away a shed tear and nods. Stephanie was released six months ago. Emily hasn’t seen her son in more than two years. “All I got is time.”

“Five minutes!”

Emily bitterly laughs at the coincidence of the officer on her side of the glass warning her that she’s almost out of time.

“Do you need anything?” Stephanie hurries along the conversation. “How’s your commissary? I can make a deposit today while I’m here.”

“No, I’m good.” Emily looks down at her lap. “Listen, baby, you have to go live your life now.”

Stephanie’s heart stops. “That sounds a lot like you’re saying goodbye.”

“I am.” When she lifts her head, there are tears on her cheeks. “You can’t throw away your life for me. You have to live it or I did this for nothing. You deserve to be happy.”

“But you’re the one who makes me happy!”

“I can’t do that anymore. Not from here.” Emily presses her left hand against the glass again and Stephanie remembers how it used to look with the wedding band Stephanie had placed on her ring finger. “If you meet someone, don’t shut them out. Promise me you’ll let yourself find happiness. I need you to promise me that.”

Stephanie hadn’t expected this. She hadn’t expected Emily to break up with her. She’d expected today to be the first of a lifetime of visiting her wife in prison, and had already been organizing her life to take the situation into account. She aligns her hand with Emily’s and struggles to reply.

“I love you, baby. That’s never, ever going to change.” Emily says it with such conviction that Stephanie can feel her heart crack. “Promise me you’ll let yourself be happy.”

Stephanie’s shaking her head, tears streaming down her face. “I promise,” her voice cracks over the words. “But I’ll still come visit you. I’ll bring Nicky as soon as I can. And I’ll bring Miles; he wants to see you, too.”

“I’d like that,” Emily says as she pushes tears away with the sleeve of her maroon sweatshirt. “Thank you for giving me the best years of my life.”

The sob that escapes Stephanie makes Emily follow suit.

“I love you,” she says, trying in vain to reach Emily through the glass. “I’ll never love anyone the way I love you.”

“I know, baby.” Emily kisses her fingertips and touches them to the glass in front of Stephanie’s lips. “I know. Listen, I gotta go.”

She hadn’t noticed the guard standing right behind Emily. They’d gone overtime.

“No! Em!” She watches Emily hang up the phone as the guard pulls her away by the chain around her waist until she disappears through a metal door.

Her own receiver falls to the counter and she drops her head to her hands, sobbing uncontrollably until a woman, another visitor she supposes, takes her gently by the shoulders and helps her all the way out to her car.

She doesn’t remember the drive home.

~*~*~*~*~*~

#a simple favor #murder moms #stephanie smothers #emily nelson #fanfic #asf fic

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gimmethatagustd · 2 years

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just me being greedy and dropping a second req lmao oop. FOR JOON HOES EVERYWHERE!! your boyfriend knows he's been busy with work and slightly neglecting you, but he's planned the perfect evening for the two of you to ~reconnect -- too bad every single thing that *can* go wrong, *does* go wrong.

FOCUS ON ME | KNJ

Namjoon just wanted to have a magical evening with you. So how did it end up becoming a nightmare? (An alternative summary: Namjoon is clumsy and dramatic. You love him anyway.)

» pairing: namjoon x reader

» rating/genre: BTS | PG | established relationship | humor | crack

» word count/date: 3k | August 2022

» warnings: things are not always what they seem

» notes: i hope you enjoy this ABSOLUTE INSANITY 😌 also fun fact, the magic lounge is a real speakeasy / magic bar in chicago that i love going to

» masterlist

» what was jai listening to? good time - wayv

Namjoon flung open the front door of your apartment, nearly knocking a photo of the two of you off the wall. He had his suit jacket slung over his arm and tugged off his tie as he barreled down the hallway towards the bedroom.

“Are you ready?!?”

“You aren’t ready,” you said with a roll of your eyes from your seat in the living room.

You sipped a glass of wine (a solo pregame, you could say) while you waited for your boyfriend to figure out what avant-garde outfit he was going to wear to the Magic Lounge. Because, as he’d said, “It’s the Magic Lounge, babe. We have to look the part.”

If looking the part meant looking like an absolute maniac, Namjoon was killing it.

Maybe everyone else at the magic show would think he was gorgeous, his dark hair flowing at the nape of his neck and swept over his forehead, the sparkly button-up he wore hugging tight to his muscles when he rolled the sleeves up his arms. But you? You knew he was a maniac. Only a maniac would walk outside in slacks that hugged his thighs like that.

It was downright illegal.

Just like the way Namjoon parked outside your apartment complex, made evident by the large yellow ticket tucked under the windshield wipers of his car.

“The fuck?” He snatched the paper, dark eyes scanning the fine print.

“You parked literally right next to a fire hydrant.”

“It was for maybe twenty minutes.”

You cocked your head to the side. “You’re kidding, right? Kim Namjoon, you’re a lawyer.”

“And?” He tossed the ticket into the backseat of the car when he slid behind the steering wheel. “I’m not a cop.”

“Are you sure you actually went to get your driver’s license, or is that ID just a fake one you bought off your student intern?”

Holding in the laugh that threatened to escape from the way Namjoon sent you a glare was nearly impossible. The only thing that saved you was the fact that he nearly drove off the road from looking at you too long.

Date nights were rare in your household, though that hadn’t always been the case. The first two years of your relationship with Namjoon was all late night adventures, giggles, and bitten lips. You’d loved the spontaneity of it, even though you didn’t always consider yourself to be the type to jump into decisions without thinking first.

But then Namjoon graduated from law school and the long hours of corporate law kicked in. There were nights you never saw Namjoon; it was easy for him to stay cooped up in his office.

In all honesty, you didn’t give a shit what you did, as long as you could do it with him. Grocery shopping could be a date if it meant you could playfully bump the shopping cart into his butt and chase each other down the aisles.

Still, it was nice to get dressed up and visit the new bar that hosted magic shows every other weekend. You weren’t the last attendees to arrive at the Magic Lounge, and that’s all that mattered to you. Although, you were a bit concerned that just because you’d arrived didn’t mean you could go.

“What do you mean the ticket is invalid? It’s right here. See, the timestamp was only a week ago.”

“Sir, I’m telling you what I’m seeing when I scan your code.”

Namjoon held up his phone for the bar host to view, perhaps getting a bit too animated in his display. That was what stress did to him; he got so tightly wound up something as simple as a wrench in his plans could have him grinding his molars. When you saw his jaw pull taunt, that’s when you knew an intervention was due.

“Um, hello.” You pushed past Namjoon to stand before the host. If you’d made it all the way to the bar to be turned away at the front doors, Namjoon was going to lose it. “Maybe there’s a problem with that ticket? Can you try this one instead?”

“Of course.” The host’s demeanor quickly shifted as he inspected your digital ticket. He gave you a boxy smile that wasn’t lost on Namjoon, his large hands brushing against yours when he took your phone from you. “Looks like this one worked. You can both follow me and I’ll take you to your seats.”

It was hard to keep up with the man as you trailed him through the bar. “This guy is all legs,” you muttered under your breath to Namjoon, but he only grunted.

You finally reached a bookcase in the back of the room. You and Namjoon gave each other side glances, unsure of what a bookcase was doing in a bar. Sure, it had an upscale speakeasy aesthetic, but the little reading nook seemed a bit random. That is, until the man pulled a book off the shelf and the entire bookcase slid to the side, revealing a secret door to a large room with a stage at the front and many tables scattered around it.

“Oh shit, wow.” You hurried behind the man, thankful to quickly find your table and sit down. From seemingly nowhere, the host handed you food and cocktail menus.

“My name is Taehyung, by the way. But you can call me Tae,” he said with that same boxy smile, shooting you a sly wink with his back slightly turned away from Namjoon. “I’ll take care of you tonight, so if you need anything, feel free to use the call button to let me know.”

“What call button?” Namjoon interjected, having looked at the table and seeing nothing of the sort.

Taehyung smirked at him before leaning in a bit closer to you. He smelled refreshing, like a mojito, and you wondered if he also prepared the drinks. You felt your face grow hot as he brought his hand up, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. When he pulled away, he held a small device in his hand.

“This call button.”

Your mouth fell open, clearly entertained by the simplest of tricks. “I haven’t seen one of these before. How does it work?”

Taehyung shot you another grin as he straightened up. “Magic.”

Namjoon let out a loud snort as your host slipped away to attend to other patrons. “That was corny as fuck.”

“You said you wanted to come here!” You teased, poking his shin with the toe of your shoe while you flipped through the menus.

His expression softened a bit and he tapped your shin with his shoe as well, although much gentler than you had. “Thank you for coming, babe.”

“Oh, it’s not something to thank me for.” You ducked behind the cocktail menu. The romantic feelings stuff always made you feel shy. It was your luck that your boyfriend lived for romance. It was part of the reason why his new job was putting a strain on your relationship. He didn’t like not having time with you.

“It is, though,” he continued, pulling on the menu to expose your face. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

As the lights in the room faded to signal the beginning of the show, Namjoon took a hold of your hand from across the table and brought it to his lips. A bit of stubble pricked your skin when he pressed a kiss to the back of your hand.

“Good evening, folks!”

A rather plain looking man in a simple suit stood on the stage, introducing himself as the magician for the night. He looked nothing like what you’d expected, but that didn’t mean his talent was lacking - in your opinion. Although some of his jokes were corny (which Namjoon believed he’d predicted after the little Taehyung situation), you were all wide eyes and small giggles at the magic tricks he performed. Magic, honestly, pissed you off. You hated that you couldn’t understand how things happened, but that was also the fun of it all. Wonder wasn’t a feeling adults got to experience much in life. You found that to be rather sad.

Namjoon managed to maintain a state of wonder, though. If it was writing poetry or going to art museums, he found a way to bring creativity and novelty into your lives, much like the magician was now.

He also managed to bring a bit of chaos with him, too. That was a type of wonder, wasn’t it?

“Shit,” Namjoon hissed. You watched in slow motion as his elbow knocked into his glass, spilling water all over the table. Thank god the glass didn’t break, but you still let out a small yelp and immediately shot up from your chair to avoid getting water on your clothes.

“Ah, yes! You, with the blue hair! Come on up!”

Your eyes grew wide as you turned to see every single person in the room staring directly at you. The magician waved you over; he’d taken you standing up to indicate your eagerness to participate in whatever his next trick was.

“Oh fuck,” you whispered when your long-legged friend arrived to escort you to the stage. Namjoon watched with his mouth hanging open as you weaved through the tables and eventually climbed the stairs to the stage.

Why hadn’t you just said no?!

“Welcome! What’s your name?” The magician looked even more normal up close, though he had some pretty dope makeup that made his eyes stand out compared to the plainness of his outfit.

“Y/N.” You tried not to sound nervous, but you’d finally noticed the rectangular box sitting on a table in the middle of the stage. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. Now, we’ve never met before, have we?”

You shook your head.

“Great. Have to confirm for the skeptics, right?” His laugh was deep and melodic. “Now, you’re going to help me by getting comfy in this display. Can you handle that?”

You looked out in the audience to find Namjoon, but the stage lights made it difficult to see anything. Well, there was no point in embarrassing yourself further by chickening out, right?

“Sure.”

The magician took your hand and helped you into the rectangular box, and you tried not to feel like you were putting yourself into a coffin as you eased into a lying position. At least when the magician closed the box over you, your head and feet stuck out so you didn’t feel completely trapped.

Well, until you realized just what this trick was.

“Uhh, can we-” you began, but the magician turned to the audience.

“Now, as you can see, my lovely assistant is nestled in the display case.” You hated that he was calling it a display case. It made you feel like a bug or something. “I’m going to take this real saw-”

You didn’t hear anything else he said. All the blood rushed to your head, and all you could hear was the sound of the ocean in your ears as the magician began sawing you in half.

“Wait, wait,” Namjoon reached out and grabbed a hold of Taehyung’s shirt as the man walked past your table. “What the fuck is happening right now?”

Taehyung smiled and wrinkled his nose at your boyfriend. “Magic, of course.”

“Don’t fuck with me, man.” Namjoon tightened his grip on Taehyung’s shirt, closing the space between the two of them to glare the man straight in the face. Taehyung narrowed his eyes and stood his ground, much to Namjoon’s surprise.

“If you don’t calm down, I will have to escort you out, sir.”

“I wish you’d fucking try.”

Right when Taehyung grabbed Namjoon’s hand to rip it from his shirt, the audience cheered. Namjoon let go of Taehyung and focused his attention on the stage where the magician held out his arms to showcase the rectangular box. It was now completely cut in half. And empty.

Where the fuck were you? You weren’t dead. Well, Namjoon hoped the fuck not! But you also weren’t here, and he didn’t like that. Not one fucking bit.

“Skeptical?” The magician asked the crowd, hearing a few cheers ripple through the room. “Would anyone like to come up and see for yourself?”

Namjoon immediately forgot about Taehyung, determined to get the magician’s attention. When the man beckoned for Namjoon to approach the stage, he charged forward and nearly stumbled up the stairs in his haste.

“Welcome! I invite you to take a look around the stage to confirm that yes, my lovely assistant has indeed disappeared.”

Namjoon ignored the magician and frantically paced the stage. He moved around the two pieces of the box, examined the table the pieces sat on, eyed the floor to look for any holes or trapdoors. Whatever the fuck tricks magicians had up their sleeves to make the impossible happen. Maybe Namjoon was stupid or wasn’t observant, but he couldn’t find anything… Nothing at all.

While the magician bragged about his success in making you disappear, Namjoon slumped back to your table. Obviously, the skit was that you would disappear and then the magician would make you reappear. That was the whole point. Namjoon would just need to sit and wait.

Fuck that.

His sharp eyes scanned the tables, keeping an eye out for that douchebag Taehyung. With the man nowhere in sight, Namjoon slipped out of his seat. He followed the perimeter of the room until he found a black door with a faded sign that read EMPLOYEES ONLY. Giving the handle a little jiggle, he quickly slipped inside while the magician rambled on stage about his next great trick. He wasn’t concerned about you. But Namjoon was. He was going to figure out where the fuck you were, and then the two of you were leaving because he did not particularly enjoy what he just witnesses.

Magic or not.

The door led him to a large backroom. The air felt granular, like dust in his lungs. A lone box fan did its best to circulate in the room. Props and unknown machinery lined the walls and at least a dozen employees scurried around the room, looking for whatever items were needed for the next magic act - at least, from what Namjoon assumed. He suddenly felt very out of place with his flamboyant outfit while the employees wore dark outfits. Namjoon was definitely not where he belonged.

Luckily, no one paid any attention to Namjoon as he weaved through the props and racks of costumes. It didn’t take him long to decide that you weren’t in this room, either. Eventually, he came to another black door marked VIP at the other end of the room. His hand left a sweaty imprint on the gold handle as he pushed inside.

The entire room black with gold accents. Gold specks were woven into the black carpet. Gold end tables flanked a black couch. Gold earrings dangled against your neck as you laughed, tossing your head back and slapping your hand against your knee.

“Y/N,” Namjoon spoke in an exhale, slightly bending over to catch his breath. “What are you doing?”

Your face lit up when you saw him and you jumped to your feet to wrap him in a crushing hug. “Oh my god, Joonie, did you see it? Did you see me? Didn’t I do a great job? Oh fuck, I had no idea what was happening at first.” You babbled on, but all Namjoon could do was lean against the door.

“You!” His eyes fell on an unfortunately familiar face who’d sat next to you on the couch - the person who’d had you laughing. “You knew where Y/N went and you didn’t tell me.”

Taehyung flipped a gold coin between his knuckles and shrugged. “It’s all part of the show. You paid for it, didn’t you?”

Was it fair for Namjoon to feel jealous? This was supposed to be his date night with you, and you’d spent most of it in a dark room with Taehyung and whoever else the other people were in the room, likely all magicians with tricks he didn’t want to know about.

“Why didn’t you come back?”

You rubbed Namjoon’s chest, squeezing him even tighter. “You’re so dramatic, baby. I’m supposed to go back in about ten minutes. I’ll reappear, say surprise! Then we can watch the rest of the show!”

Namjoon gave you a long, unreadable stare.

“Nope. We’re leaving.”

“What??”

He snatched your wrist and led you through the storage room, muttering to himself. “Watched you get sawed in half. Disappeared. On date night, of all nights. With Mister Long Legs, even.”

You couldn’t help but smile as your boyfriend stomped through the venue, stopping to drop a tip on your table (because he was cranky, but he had manners), before leading you back through the bookcase. You’d never seen him so worked up before, and quite frankly, it was pretty hot. So maybe you were a little bit of a brat, but it was cute how Namjoon seemed to have genuinely worried about where you were.

“You knew it was fake the whole time, right? Like, you knew I wasn’t in any real danger, right?” You poked him in the side, but he didn’t look at you, only led you to your parked car. “Joonie.”

“Yes, yes, I know it’s not real! But it was weird and I… I just wanted you to be with me, okay? I didn’t want to wait around alone and not have you with me.” He pouted and waited for you to get into the car before he got in himself. The two of you sat in silence for a moment. While you’d had plenty of time to process what you considered a pretty dope magic trick, Namjoon was obviously in his feelings.

“Hey, babe. I’m right here, okay? We can go home, if you want. Get into some comfy clothes and snuggle?” You captured his hand in your own and pressed it to your lips as he had done to you earlier. He set his soft gaze on you and it was impossible not to melt. Drama king or not.

“Alright. But… Can I ask you a question first?”

You pressed another kiss to his hand. “Of course, baby. Whatever you want.”

He visibly gulped and leaned his head against the seat headrest as he turned to better look at you. “How did he do it? The trick?”

You brought your lip between your teeth and smiled into your eyes.

“Magic.”

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