#ives i fucking swear you outdo yourself every time
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Face Down
pt i, pt ii pt iv
Masterlist
Summary: Kenny is an abrasive bastard, sure, but he teaches you and Levi how to survive. You feel like a natural at Kenny’s lessons, in fact, especially next to Levi’s clumsy attempts.
an: sorry this took so long! It was a monster to write and edit, and I had a busy few days! Hope you enjoy :)
Kenny's motto in life is similar to that of an old proverb. "give a man a fish, and he will eat for a day. teach a man to fish and he will eat for his life.”
But, you reflected as you watched him scold Levi yet again for his stance, much more violent.
"Look, brat," he sniffed, "if I killed every motherfucker down here, you'd only be safe until the next batch of thugs came in. Now fucking hold the damn knife right."
Levi growled under his breath, and went back into the pose that Kenny had drilled into him religiously while you watched. He curled his fingers around the grip of the blade, and proceeded to flip and throw it, quick-changing his hold for different angles to stab and slash.
You grinned snobbishly at him as you flipped your own knife, over and over in your hand. "Hey, Levi, check this out!" you called, quickly flicking the blade so it danced through your fingers, before catching it back in your palm, now poised for a downward strike.
He scowled at you, while Kenny looked on, indifferent as always.
"Don't get too ahead of yourself, little lady." Kenny finally intoned, "Levi will overtake you by leaps and bounds, if he's really an Ackerman."
You grinned cheekily, “Well, we all know how Miss Kuchel felt about taking in orphans!” You teased.
Levi scoffed at you, and you cackled. Your head tossed back, hair falling past violently shaking shoulders. Your laughter echoed through the dimly lit home you had purchased after selling some of the drugs you had pilfered from that shop. The place was small, really more of a postage stamp than anything else, and it was tucked away in a damp and dreary corner of the Underground, but even so...
It was beginning to feel somewhat like home.
When your giggles finally died out, you rolled your head back upright. Tears of mirth sparkled on your lashes, and when you caught sight of Levi...
The boy was staring at you, eyes wide and mouth gaping. You watched in confusion as a flush began to creep slowly up his neck, over his high cheekbones. He looked... flustered, in a way.
You cocked your head. What on earth...?
“You feeling alright, Levi?”
Kenny grinned, all teeth and squinting eyes. It made him look roguish, when he wasn’t doing it in a cruel way. It almost made you curious as to how Levi would look with such a devil-may-care smile. All he’d done lately, or ever really, was scowl.
“Don’t you worry, kiddo,” Kenny snickered, throwing an arm over your shoulder and leering down at the red faced boy, “I think Levi here’s gonna be doing just fine.”
And so time marched on.
Days without Miss Kuchel turned into months, turned into a year, then two. You rounded into your 10th year of life, and then hurtled straight into puberty. You continued to outpace Levi by leaps and bounds, even as he began to outgrow you in height. Your moves became flashier and more complex, attacks became quicker and more lethal. Kenny scolded you frequently, telling you in a real knife fight, you were rather average, and tricks like those would only get you killed.
Still, you found it exceedingly fun to twirl a blade between your fingers, to flick it through the air and catch it, only to send it twirling back out again. You excelled, as Kenny soon realized, at throwables. Knives, rocks, hell, even the old axe they had tried to barter off a local seller, and then later stolen when he wouldn’t budge on price. You were more likely to get praise from him due to your deadly aim than you were for being able to spin a knife like a top on your finger, even though the latter was much more impressive in your opinion.
“What can I say, Kenny,” you had crowed one evening, after he scolded you for wasting time practicing tricks, “I’m a show-man!”
Kenny swiftly came to the ragged end of his patience regarding your lackadaisical attitude towards the offensive moves he’d been teaching you. In true Ackerman fashion, he decided to rip you a new one.
“The only thing a performer is good for down here is laying on their back, girl, so unless you want to be like Kuchel and your mother, I suggest you take me a little more seriously.”
You snarled, baring your teeth at him, the picture of teenage obstinance, “Like there’s shame in being a whore!” You objected, as you had done so often before, knife spinning faster in your hands.
He laughed shortly, shaking his head, “Being a whore gets you killed, and the dumb ones die even quicker, so you’d better stay out of the business. Besides, is that the life you want for yourself? For Levi?”
You stalled out at this, thinking of how anxious Levi had been every time his mother had a client. He was so scared she would be harmed, or he’d find her beat to death in her bed... you didn’t want to see him like that again.
You pursed your lips, suddenly sullen from the memories, twirling knife stilling in your hand, “No.”
Kenny grimaced, bringing his hand up to rub the tension from between his brows. “Look, y/n,” he began, gruffly, “as of now, you’re better than Levi at defending yourself. I don’t know how long that will last, but for now, if something were to happen while I’m out on business... he might need you. And you need to be on top of your game if you want to help him.”
You were two parts guilty, two parts proud for outdoing Levi at every turn. You took to holding a knife like a duck took to water. You dodged Kenny’s blows like you were a dancer. Sure, you weren’t as strong as Levi, and it took twice as many hits from you to equal one of his, but...
You felt like you could thrive, out there in the underground, if you wanted to. If you had Levi beside you.
If you had been like this when Miss Kuchel was sick, that store owner never would have been able to stop you. You could have gotten back in time. Guilt rose like bile up your throat as you remembered seeing Levi, curled up by his decaying mother, looking sunken away and dead himself. All because you’d been too loud and got caught, because you were too slow to dodge that storekeeper grabbing you, because you weren’t fast enough to get that medicine to Miss Kuchel and barely fast enough to save Levi, and if you fucked up like that again, maybe next time you wouldn’t be fast enough to save Levi and then he would- no.
Never again.
“Kenny...” you finally murmured, forcing yourself from your panicked thoughts, “you always speak of Levi like he’s going to... evolve, in a way. Like he’ll simply pick up everything he can’t, now. Its been confusing me for quite some time. You aren’t the kind to patronize people, so... what are you doing?”
Kenny took a moment to consider you. He thought how you picked on Levi, how Levi shoved you around, how you bickered relentlessly with each other. He thought of how you never cried, how you held yourself in an echo of Kuchel, how you would wrestle Levi, and how now that he was getting bigger, he was winning more often, but you smiled just as wide when you lost. He thought of how neither of you could fall asleep without being beside eachother. He thought of you, curled around his sleeping, emaciated nephew all those years ago, pint-sized and wielding a shard of glass like a dagger and snarling at him like a wildcat. Leave Levi alone, you had said, before you knew he was more friend than foe.
He sighed. He could trust you, he knew. “I know Ackermans...” he finally muttered, glancing down at you, “Some, up on the surface. They all have an uncanny ability within them. They call it the Ackerman Instinct. In a time of great stress, it awakens in them. Everything clicks into place. They become machines. Killers. Weapons. The only thing that can best an Ackerman is an army. One day, that’ll awaken in Levi, and then... he’ll be invaluable.”
You grimaced, disgusted by his description of the boy you had grown up along side, the calculation behind his words. “You talk about him how that old pimp used to talk about me,” you said, repulsed, “If you think you’re gonna turn him into some kind of... some kind of tool, you’re wrong. Doubly so if you think I’ll let you sell him. Not Levi. Not while I’m here.”
Kenny grinned sickly at you, “Not while you’re here? Little girl, what is it that you think you can do?” he asked, drawing himself to full height as he glowered down at you.
You snarled. resembling that wildcat he’d seen curled around Levi years ago, now nearly grown into her paws. “I’ll fucking kill you if you try to take him from me,” you promised, “I swear to god, I’ll do it. It’s not like you’re some kind of Ackerman Killing Machine, or anything. Should be fucking easy.”
Kenny tried to keep a straight face, he really did. But confronted with your fury wrapped up so tightly in a thirteen year old body, hissing and spitting at him, and unknowingly telling Kenny ‘the ripper’ Ackerman he wasn't an Ackerman Killing Machine.... It tickled him. More than he had been in years. He broke out into rib breaking guffaws, your pouting face and insists that you were serious only adding fuel to the fire.
Christ you were a fucking hoot.
When he managed to get his breath back, he grinned down at you, lazily. “Don’t worry, little lady. I’m not here do nothing to Levi, and I suspect the little shit would put up a mighty fine fight if I tried to separate you two. He’s quite fond of you, in his own pint-sized psycho kind of way. I just... knew Kuchel.” Kenny was unsure of why he was telling you this, even as he said it, “We grew up... nearby each other. I want to do right by her brat, that’s all. Did I pass your test, Livewire?”
You pursed your lips, deliberating, as you looked up at the man who had been with you for years. To know that he and Miss Kuchel were close... that he wasn’t simply a besotted client who chose to do right by her kids as Levi and you had assumed...
You grabbed his wrist, dragging him to where your friend was curled outside the house.
“You knew her... tell us what she was like.” you bargained, curling beside Levi like a cat, hand instinctively seeking his wrist as you leaned comfortably against his side.
He glanced at you, startled out of his thoughts, confused and wary of what you may be up to. You grinned at the sight, knowing he was still waiting for you to repay him for putting an earthworm on your pillow last night. But revenge would have to wait, you had found bigger game to hunt. You turned your sharp eyes on Kenny, demanding. “Come on, old timer. I’d kill for someone to tell me stories about my mom. You’d be doing us sad orphans a mighty fine favor.”
Kenny sighed, squatting on the other side of Levi and lighting a cigarette. He had it halfway finished but the time he finally decided to give into your fidgeting, and Levi’s confused and annoyed expression. He huffed, and drug a hand across his face. Slowly, like each word was being pulled from him, he began.
“Kuchel was... strong. She was a true Ackerman.”
Levi stiffened beside you, having never heard your crochety guardian talk about his mother before, and his hand went to where yours rested on his wrist, before his body slowly went lax beside you. You wormed your way closer to his warm side, and for once he didn’t wriggle and complain.
You and Levi listened to Kenny tell stories about Miss Kuchel until sunrise, side by side, eventually nodding off like that, snuggled against each other.
It was a rare night off for the two of you, where Kenny wasn’t running you both ragged. He told you he had business regarding the recent arrival of Military Police into the underground, and went off without any telling when he’d be back.
You were almost unsure of what to do. Kenny had become a constant in your lives, his sharp tongue and acerbic nature driving you to do better, to be better. His constant reminders that while someday something would awaken in Levi and cause him to become a killing machine, today was not that day, and you needed to learn to protect him, to protect you.
You wondered if he preached the same sermon to Levi. You wondered, even, if it was all a lie, and nothing would awaken in your dark haired friend. You didn’t mind, really, him being subpar with a blade. But every time you watched him fumble, you remembered Kuchels words. The only way to make money in the Underground is as a thug or a whore.
The statement rang brutally true, even now. You knew, whatever Kenny’s business what those MP was, it would involve being the former. You giggled suddenly. Unless... Kenny was on the other end of the spectrum?
Levi looked at you, startled at your sudden laughter, and you waved him away, “Just imagining Kenny in one of Miss Kuchels dresses. One of the puffy ones, even.”
Levi’s mouth twitched, “The blue one would compliment his eyes.”
You guffawed. Levi had slowly been coming back to you, you realized. He rarely joked, over the past few years, locked deep inside his own head despite your efforts to drag him back out. The morning you woke up outside, snuggled together, had been awkward, but you didn’t quite understand why. You always slept beside each other, even if you weren’t touching. You didn’t quite understand why Levi couldn’t meet your eyes the next day, why he seemed to skitter away from your touch. To you, it had really only felt natural to wake up with him beside you, still warm from his body heat.
His joking demeanor now bolstered yours, and you grinned at him, happy and carefree. The grin turned sly, and you batted long lashes at him, like you’d often seen Miss Kuchel do when she wanted something.
“Levi... can you help me?” you asked, sidling closer to his side, hand finding his wrist.
He looked at you, wary once more, and you took it as a sign to continue. “Lets get on the roof,” you suggested, grinning devilishly at him, “check out the view!”
He scowled, and you almost relented until you saw the twitch of his nose, the tug on the corner of his mouth. The little bastard was almost smiling. You had never felt so proud.
“C’mon, Lee,” you wheedled, “I just need a boost. You’re still bunches stronger than I am, even if you are shit with a knife. And you’re taller than me now!”
The praise did the trick, and he began to walk towards the door, using your grip on his arm like a leash as he drug you along. “Fine, brat, but you’ll owe me one.”
You grinned, shifting your hand to catch his fingers. You promised, “For you, anything.”
Getting on that damn roof had bruised you more than anything, and all to look at a shitty concrete ceiling above you, in a crappy Underground. Still, you and Levi laid there for a while in silence, only taking in the sounds of each other breathing and alive. He was your touchstone, and you were his. Always faithful, constantly by your side. Even with Kenny here, in your little house for years, it still didn’t feel constant. It felt like he could leave at any moment. But even if he did, you reflected, it was still you and Levi. The two of you wouldn’t ever be alone, so long as you had the other.
Levi shifted, his shoulder brushing yours, his knee brushing your thigh, and he jerked away as if burnt. You hummed, sensing the beeping of a mine about to go off, and circumvented it. “Levi,” you murmured, “what do you think stars look like?”
“Huh?” he asked, properly diffused, “why would you ask that?”
You shrugged, continuing to stare up, “Just trying to imagine something better than damp concrete.” you finally said, blinking up, “I’ve been trying to imagine something better for a while now. I just... don’t know where to start.”
He scoffed, before stilling beside you, studying the roof above you. You knew he thought it foolish, to wish for a better life. Especially when you were so far from the surface, the stairs leading upstairs an insurmountable dream, too tall for your weak legs to carry you up.
“I hear they’re like... the sequins, on moms pretty blue dress.” he finally said, “only there's a bajillion of them up there.”
You took a moment to imagine this through the shock of the stoic boy beside you even humoring your request. The dark sky full of the small ornate sequin swirls on Miss Kuchels dress, and you wondered if they moved and swished like her skirt did. You wondered if they spun through the sky, or if they were stationary, ever present and watching, like guardians. Were they brighter than the dull dewdrops shining on the stone slabs above you?
“I’d like to see them someday, if you were with me.” you rushed out, not understanding why the words burnt you like a confession, why you felt your face heating up. God, why was your heart beating so fast?
Levi looked at you like you we’re stupid, and you felt like swallowing your tongue. But then...
His hand found yours, wrapping your fingers tightly in his own. “Tch. Where the fuck else would I be, idiot?”
And suddenly everything felt right.
Levi and you had decided to go to the market to steal some decent food for dinner, Kenny long gone on another trip. His parting advice of try not to die stinging and bolstering you. As if you would die. You felt like a goliath compared to when you were nine and starving and watching Kuchel wilt away, when you were eight and fighting and biting anything that got too close, when you were seven and learning to bite back tears and turn them into something useful, when you were five and had a mother who wanted you to be safe and warm no matter what the cost.
You had come too far to simply die, and so had Levi.
Even now, you bumped arms with him, walking close enough to trip if you weren’t so in sync. You smiled up at him, pleased with your successful theft, the loaf of bread, tin of oats, and apples feeling like meat, cheese, and honey to you.
“All in a days work,” you teased, “It’s not much, but it’s honest.”
He scoffed, glancing down at your grinning features as you stretched, lithe arms pressing outward and brushing his back, “it’s not even honest, it’s just not much.” he told you, voice deeper now than it had been when you’d first been found by Kenny.
You shrugged, “Shit, birds gotta fly, orphans gotta eat.”
He nudged you with his hip, smirking down at you, almost showing teeth. He was fucking gorgeous when he smiled.
You told him as much, watching the pretty blush rise up on his cheekbones. He even stuttered at you, letting out a “uh... I’m...”
You stopped, and he turned to you, curling into your form, like a shield, like a blanket. You peered up to him, wide eyes captivating him, drawing him in almost. You realized that if he was pretty smiling, he was even prettier smiling and blushing.
You were deliberating the cost of rolling up and pressing your mouth to his, and then blinking in shock at the boldness of your thoughts, when you heard it.
“Hey, whore.”
You grit your teeth, the voice sending unpleasant shivers of disgust up your spine. Even deepened into adulthood, you could recognize it.
Vic. The same man who had spoken down on your mother, on Kuchel, for being whores.
“Ha,” he continued, “That little runt finally saved up enough to buy you, huh? How much after him? I’m not mad about sloppy seconds.” He leered.
You felt Levi tense. He was frozen before you, and your hand found his, stroking across his knuckles, wishing to calm him, “Levi... he isn’t worth it. Let’s just go home.”
But Vic didn’t care, Vic didn’t know you had spent the past few years training with a dictator of a teacher. Vic didn’t know you had a knife ready to draw, didn’t realize you had grown sharper and angrier, even if you hadn’t ever outgrown him.
He didn’t know you were waiting for the Ackerman instinct to kick in.
Vic stepped towards you, grabbing you by the elbow, trying to yank you away from Levi’s grip.
Like a flash, Levi lashed out, boney knuckles crashing into Vic’s cheek, your bag of stolen goods dropped to the floor. He drew his knife, fingers twiddling with the blade until it was poised for a downward strike.
You’re signature move...
You turned, arm released, to aid Levi. As Vic lunged, overpowering Levi’s weak stance and clumsy movements, you rushed at his back. Levi watched your desperate attack, eyes widening, and giving you away. Vic realized the danger, remembering your tendency towards aggression, and spun to face you. He batted you away with his arm and his blade, and you heard Levi’s frantic yelp of ‘don’t touch her!’. You landed hard on the concrete, skidding and rolling, your breath punched out of you. You began to pick yourself up off the floor, winded and bleeding from your ribs and steeling yourself to throw yourself back into the fight, when another thug showed up.
He was scrawnier than Vic, raised leaner. Probably, you realized, an orphanage kid who wasn’t the descendant of the head wallist. He had disregarded you, assuming you were a woman, and a whore, and uncapable of defending yourself.
He would pay dearly for that, you decided.
As he readied himself to attack Levi, you lunged, reckless and desperate.
Because... Levi had just gotten the upper hand, was just beginning to overtake Vic. You couldn’t risk that, couldn’t allow another man to attack him and throw him off. You didn’t want to be alone, and you didn’t want to lose him.
You caught him around the middle, leg frantically kicking out to take him to the ground. The air rushed out of him with the hit, and he yelped. He was too surprised to twist to catch himself, and landed roughly on the ground.
You snarled, feral and up to your throat in adrenaline, unable to hear anything over the rapid-fire thump of your heartbeat. You couldn't focus on anything besides keeping this motherfucker away from Levi.
Your hand found the knife crammed into your belt, yanking it from its makeshift sheath and lunging, while you still had the upper-hand. He battered you away, smacking you violently. You tried to roll with the hit, jarring your leg as you yanked it violently from beneath him. You fought through the pins and needles crawling up your ankle, and scrambled backwards.
Levi grunted, and you frantically craned your neck to make sure he was okay.
The thug took advantage of your distraction, lunging on top of you, grabbing your hands and trying to wrestle the knife from your grip. You screeched your panic to the air, thrashing violently and kicking. He leered down at you, blood from a gash in his forehead dribbled down his jaw, dripping onto your face. You fought the urge to gag.
He raised the knife up, your hands still gripping it as you struggled to regain control, and began to plunge the point towards your chest.
You screamed and panted, fighting his downward thrust, feet scrabbling in the gravel as you tried to brace, and even you, with all your violent optimism, could see this was a losing battle.
You heard Levi scream, a sound of rage and panic, and Vic let out a startled, pained grunt. You heard the sound of rending flesh, something wet spilling out onto the ground.
"LEVI!" You screamed. Your brain whited out. The only thought running in your mind a frantic repetition of no, no, no no no. You couldn't lose him.
You let the thug overpower your grip, a controlled descent that ended in you releasing the knife and shoving his hand to the side. You jack-knifed away from the stab and under his legs, wriggling from beneath him and scrambling to your feet, violently swinging back one leg and kicking your foot with vicious intent into his ribs, all panic and no power. You braced and did it again. He gagged, skittering off his hands and knees and landing roughly to his side. You screeched, frantic and shaking.
"Fuck," you shouted, stomping his chest and feeling something give beneath your heel, "fuck, fuck, fuck!"
You kicked him one more time, and frantically grabbed the knife. The thug wheezed, lunging for you in staggering movements, and any question of whether to kill him or not disappeared from your mind as you twirled the blade between your fingers, and plunged it into his neck.
You felt the metal sink through his skin like a bruised apple, felt the clink of the tip hitting bone. You felt the blood spurt out as you withdrew and leapt back, hands shaking and dripping blood. You felt nausea roll up to replace the adrenaline as you watched him gurgle and choke, shaking hands grabbing for his neck before he convulsed one more time and went still.
You gagged, turning away from the body and into someone’s arms. You flinched away, trying to bat the hands back until you realized who was holding you.
Levi.
You looked up at him frantically, shoving your hands against your pants to wipe away the blood before they reached up to grasp his face.
You nearly sobbed. "You're okay... Levi..."
He grimaced as he looked at you, pursing his lips, the picture of composure while you stood quaking and whimpering. "I saw him, on top of you. You screamed."
You choked out a shaky laugh, "I was so scared. I didn’t know if you had- ...I was scared."
He scoffed. "No reason to be," he released you to look you over, before grabbing your hand, twining your fingers together, "you did a good job, with him. I just got Vic down when you started stomping his ribs."
At his mention of Vic, you peered past Levi’s shoulder. The thug was laying there, still and cooling in his own blood and entrails.
"Christ, Levi. You gutted him. Since when did you have that in you?"
He growled, shaking his head. "He was on top of you. I couldn't waste anymore time with Vic. Not with you screaming like that. Enough to give a man a headache."
You laughed, leaning into him, resting your head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. You let the shaking subside as his warmth seeped into you.
It was you, and Levi, and you were both alive and coming down off the adrenaline rush of your first kill and fuck. Even here, covered in blood and the stench of Vic’s ruptured bowels, with Levi beside you...
Everything felt right.
When Levi was by your side, everything felt right.
pt iv
#i am sorry#i drank 1.5 litres of wine tonight#and i have decided to not post until sober me verifies this isnt shit#thank you#sober me has verified this work as passing#good to go#snk fanfiction#snk#snk headcanons#snk imagines#aot#aot fanfiction#aot headcanons#levi x reader#levi ackerman x reader#levi#levi ackerman#levi ackerman headcanons#snk levi#levi aot#attack on titan#attack on titan headcanons#attack on titan imagine#shingeki no kyojin#shingeki no kyojin fanfiction#snk x reader#aot x reader
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On-Air | Vernon/Hansol (V)
genre: fluff, comedy, slight angst, college au | vernon x radio personality!reader
summary: under the pseudonym Honey, you are the host of the most popular radio show in the city called Honey Time Radio where you give advice about relationships, school, and life in general. when it comes to your own love-life, however, you don’t have the best luck, and you don’t even follow your own advice! so what happens when you get a call from a listener who’s asking you advice on how to get to your heart?
word count: 3468
a/n: thank you all for the support thus far! it’s 4:30 am good night i need sleep lol. several warnings: swearing, alcohol, lots of platonic wonwoo x reader, and american fraternity life. as seen on my ao3
part iv, vi
“A party tonight, huh?” Wonwoo said, swinging around in his chair. “What kind of party?”
“What do you mean what kind of party, it’s a college party,” you said as-a-matter-of-factly.
“The type of college party that Hansol invited you to is just as important as the invite itself!”
“How?”
“If it’s a birthday party, he’s trying to claim you. Well, claim is such a terrible word, but I don’t know how else to explain it. Assuming the birthday party is most likely hosted by someone he’s close to, he wants to show you off to his friends and show you how serious he is. A fraternity party, on the other hand, is way different.”
“So what if he’s taking me to a frat party?”
“Fraternity, you uncultured swine, not frat,” Wonwoo scolded. “And I’ll kill him.”
“What, why!?”
“The sole purpose of a fraternity hosting a party that isn’t the afterset to one of their cancer-saving bullshit philanthropy events is to get the entire house laid. Lots of drunk, sexy people in one room gets things going, you know? Trust me on this one, I know from hands-on experience and it works every time, so if he’s trying to take you to a damn Sigma Tau party, I’ll kill him. Their parties always suck, anyways.”
“I always forget that you’re in a fraternity,” you snorted.
“Why? I’m hot enough to be in one.”
“It’s because you’re such a fuckin’ nerd.”
“Nerds can wear letters, too, you independent,” he pouted. “So what kind of party is it?”
“It’s Soonyoung’s birthday party.”
“Oh, cool! I’ll see you there then.”
“You’re going!? Thanks for the invite!” you scolded.
“I swear I was going to invite you literally right after this discussion. But hey, Hansol beat me to it, so good for him.”
“I’m not cool enough to be invited to parties, ok, that’s why I rely on you to tell me once you get the invite!”
“It slipped my mind, I’m sorry! I’ll remember next time!”
“Can I go with you tonight?”
“Why? Hansol’s not picking you up?”
“He’s helping set up, so he’ll be there already.”
“I mean, I guess we could go together,” he said sarcastically. “Just don’t, you know, do what you always do and look awkward.”
“I might as well not go at all.”
“I’m kidding! But you have to take a shot with me once we walk in, no chaser.”
“Of what…”
“Silver tequila ~”
“You’re the devil incarnate,” you groaned, feeling yourself gagging already. “Fine.”
“Hurray! HonWoo ‘bouta turn up!”
“Never say that again. Hurry and press the button,” you sighed, slumping in your seat. Tonight was going to be a long night and you had no idea what to expect. But now wasn’t the time to worry.
“On-air in three… two… one…”
“What’s up, everyone!?” you greeted. “You’re on-air with Honey Time Radio, with Honey at the mic and Dj Wonwoo on the beat. It is a warm, thirsty Thursday evening, which means $10 bottles of soju at Ahjooma’s Corner! Make sure you stop on by and grab a bottle of soju while you’re eating with your friends, your significant other, or even your employer whom you’re trying to get drunk so you can get that raise! Mine and Wonwoo’s favorite flavor is the green apple soju. This is definitely sponsored content, but I was not paid to say that Ahjooma’s Corner has the best soondubu-jjigae ever, besides my mother’s. Love you, mom!
“For our first segment of the show tonight, we have a submission sent in by an anonymous listener. ‘Hey, Honey & Wonwoo! I’m a returning listener who has called for advice before, but I’m too nervous to call again because my identity might be found out! So here’s the thing; there’s this guy that I have been trying to get his attention, but every time I try, I either chicken out or he leaves right away to talk to someone else! I tried your advice last time, like small conversation starters, but I don’t think he’s that kind of person. There’s a party tonight and he’s going to be there. If he’s not into small talk, what do you think I should do?’”
You squinted at the submission on your laptop screen. Why did this scenario sound so familiar?
“Sounds like you’re in quite the pickle, anonymous,” you commented, a bit discouraged that your advice didn’t work, but glad they came back to ask. “You must really like him, huh? Well, if my advice didn’t work last time, I’d hate to ruin it a second time. Maybe Wonwoo can help?”
“Really!? Ah, it’s my time to shine!” he said while cracking his knuckles. “My advice is coming from my perspective - a guy’s perspective. I’m a lot like your guy in the sense that I hate small talk, too. I feel like the party scene is a lot easier to work with because you have a lot more leeway to break the ice. Does your guy like to drink? Ask him if he wants you to get a drink and start talking that way. Does he like drinking games? Ask him to be your partner. Does he like to dance? This one’s a bit more daring, but if you know how to bump n’ grind on the dance floor, that’ll really get his attention, if you know what I mean ~” Wonwoo chuckled at your gross expression. “It seems like he doesn’t like his time being wasted, so get straight to the point right away. Hope that helps.”
“You know, usually I would rather eat the cafeteria food than listen to Wonwoo’s advice, but that was actually pretty good…” you mused. “We should switch roles for a night.”
“I would never let you touch my soundboard. Only my fingers can make such magical sounds.”
“Why do you say things like that, it’s so weird… Anyways, we wish you all the best, Anonymous! Let us know how it went. Let’s take our first caller!”
“And that’s all for tonight, everyone. Tomorrow rings in a new day, so make sure you take the bull by the horns and seize it. Or something along those lines. You understand, what I mean, right? I’d like to give a special shoutout to a special listener by the name of Soonyoung. Happy birthday, Soonyoung! Stay safe at your party tonight. And as always, everyone else stay safe tonight, too. Use our Lyft code aka our official ship name, #HonWoo, for 20% off your ride. Thanks for listening, everyone. This is Honey signing off.”
“How did you manage to get us an Ahjooma’s Corner ad and a Lyft code?” Wonwoo asked after pressing the offline button. “The step team has been trying to get sponsors from both of them since forever!”
“Jeonghan’s like, the head chef or whatever at Ahjooma’s Corner and Seungkwan’s the brand ambassador for Lyft.”
“Seungkwan, that pink bastard,” Wonwoo cursed. “Are you going back to your apartment to change?”
“Yeah, I can’t go there looking like this.”
“Good, ‘cuz you look like trash.”
“You’re a great friend.”
When you got back to your apartment, it was already 10:30 which was thirty minutes after the party started but thirty minutes before the party started. In those remaining thirty minutes, you spent twenty-five of those throwing out every outfit you tried on, unsatisfied with the results.
“Yah, what’s taking you so long!?” Wonwoo yelled from your couch. “All the jungle juice is gonna be gone!”
“I don’t know what to wear!”
“It’s a fucking party, not the Yule Ball!”
“Can you shut up!? I’m done, for Christ’s sake!”
“If you take any longer, I’m gonna get you so drunk that Hansol’s gonna be the one carrying your ass back here -”
Wonwoo’s blabbering mouth fell silent when you left your room all ready to go. He didn’t know how you did it, but you managed to fix your hair, face, and get dressed in such a short amount of time and still look decent. Tonight, you didn’t look like _____. Tonight, you looked like Honey.
“Damn,” he said. “You look… put together for once. Tryna shake up Hansol?”
“Ugh, you complimenting me makes me feel uglier somehow.”
“I try to be nice one time…”
The walk to Soonyoung’s didn’t more than ten minutes. When you were a block away from the house, you could already hear the bumping music, loud cheers, and see the bright, colorful strobe lights. This party looked like it was straight out of an American college party movie, making Mingyu’s party look like the seventh grade sock hop.
“Jisoo Christ,” Wonwoo whistled. “Soonyoung really meant it when he said he was going to outdo his twenty-first…”
“Someone’s gotta clean all of that up eventually…”
“That’s what pledges are for,” he smirked. “C’mon, you promised me a tequila shot.”
The inside of the house was moist - it wreaked of booze, sweat, and lots of sugar. You and Wonwoo squeezed your way through the crowd to the kitchen, exchanging hellos to familiar faces and quick kisses on the cheek from drunk friends (who knew Minghao was so affectionate when drunk?)
A tall, double shot of clear poison glared at you, accompanied by its groupies lime and salt. The more you smelled the ethanol-like stench of tequila, the more you felt yourself gag.
“Cheers to a good night, _____,” Wonwoo said as you both raised your glasses. “May the alcohol be ever in our favor.”
With the cling of the glass, you licked the mound of salt, downed the juice, and sucked on a lime wedge. No amount of limes and salt could ease the burn of liquor travelling down your throat. One double shot in and you already felt like dying.
“Ha,” Wonwoo giggled. “Look at your face.”
“Taking a shot without the birthday boy!?” A familiar voice yelled, swinging his bare arm around your shoulder. A sweaty Soonyoung hugged you tightly as he grabbed a shot glass of his own. “Pour me one, Wonwoo.”
“Ugh, can’t we take something else?” you groaned, still not over the taste.
“Does Hennessey suit your needs, Princess _____?”
“Can I get a chaser?”
“Nuh uh, shorty,” Soonyoung grinned. “House rules - any shot with the birthday boy is straight.”
“God, you’re such a bro.” The gold liquid didn’t sting as much as tequila, but didn’t really taste any better. You felt the intoxication take over your body, hazing your vision, but you didn’t mind at all, although you probably should have ate before coming… Soonyoung squeezed your shoulder as a thank you for taking a shot with him.
“Have you seen Hansol?” you yelled over the music.
“You’re like the third girl that’s asked me tonight. Is it his birthday, too, or something!?” he pouted.
“Well, he’s the one that invited me -”
“He probably invited every fucking girl here,” he snorted. “He’s probably on the dance floor.”
“I’ll be heading there, then.”
“Wait, me too!”
Soonyoung had his hands over your shoulders, guiding you through the house to the living room, where the real party was happening. A sober Mingyu was the Dj for tonight, who apparently claimed that after his birthday, he was never going to drink again, or at least until after midterms. The entire room was packed with people, bodies swaying and grinding to the music, that you couldn’t even distinguish faces.
“Do you see him?” you asked Soonyoung, who clung to you closer in his drunk state.
“Yeah, but he seems a bit preoccupied…”
Your eyes followed to where Soonyoung pointed. Right in the middle of the dance floor was a flushed Hansol, grinding behind some poor soul who got caught in the same trap you were in. Even in your tipsy state, you recognized her - she was the same girl who Hansol said was bland at Mingyu’s party, the same girl who called that night to ask for advice on how to get his attention, and the same girl who anonymously sent you a submission a few hours ago on how to actually get his attention.
God, how could you be so stupid and not put the pieces together?
“Hyejin actually did it,” Soonyoung cheered behind you. “She’s been trying to talk to Hansol since their freshman year. About fuckin’ time. Who knew Wonwoo gave great advice.”
Oh, that’s right. Wonwoo was the one who advised her.
Do all guys think the fucking same?
Hyejin turned around, now facing Hansol as he kept his arms tightly wrapped around her tiny waist. Their faces were so close, any closer they would be making out and it made you want to throw up. In a room full of sweaty, sexually-driven drunk adults, the spotlight was on them, at least to you it was. The alcohol was really starting to kick in as your mind flashed through every smile, every laugh, and every form of affection that Hansol ever gave you.
In those moments, in such a short amount of time, you felt like you could fly.
But now, you felt like just another check off his list. And he was another one off of yours.
Six. That made six total guys who fucked you over.
Should you even be surprised at this point? But maybe you were overreacting… It’s not like you were even officially together. But why did it still hurt?
“Are you ok?” Soonyoung asked, shaking your shoulders. “You’re not going to throw up, are you? ‘Cuz that would suck.”
You snatched a cup of mystery drink from someone’s hand and chugged it down, ignoring the taste of cheap cinnamon liquer.
“Wanna dance?” you asked bitterly.
“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that?” he slurred. “Years, _____, years. Fucking finally, let’s go.”
You were shocked when Soonyoung gently took your hand and led you towards the middle of the dance floor. You were even more shocked that you were having a lot of fun using him as a distraction to get your mind off of Hansol for the night.
But you were most shocked when you locked eyes with a Hansol after the fifth song with Soonyoung.
You weren’t even dancing that risque with him. Dancing with Soonyoung was filled with laughs and smiles from the goofiness that you shared together. Hansol watched you hunch over from laughing so hard too many times for him to count. You may not have had your ass grinding up against Soonyoung crotch, but not once did you let go of his hand. He twirled you, dipped you, swung you around like a boyfriend would.
Somehow imagining you grinding up against Soonyoung seemed less painful than the scene before him.
When you saw Hansol looking at you, you might have felt guilty from seeing how pale his face was if he wasn’t still glued to Hyejin. But since that was the case, you broke the chilling eye contact quickly and put all your attention to Soonyoung. It was satisfying knowing that you could finally get payback for all the shit you fell for.
“_____ ~!” Soonyoung groaned, tired from all the dancing. “I need to rehydrate!”
“Jungle juice?” you challenged.
“Jungle juice!”
“Wonwoo ~!” you screeched, stumbling into the kitchen. After the whole dance floor incident, you spent the rest of the night drinking whatever was in front of you to numb your entire body, Now it was almost three in the morning and you were drunk off your ass and achieved the optimal amount of numbness. Most of the guests left the house with the exception of Wonwoo and Soonyoung’s friends and a couple of girls that wanted to stay. This included Hansol and Hyejin, who stood next to each other with at least one inch of space between them for once.
You let out an obnoxious groan at the sight.
“What, you alcoholic?” he teased.
“Take me home.”
“Why don’t you ask Han -”
“HONEY TIME RADIO,” you interrupted loudly, causing Wonwoo’s eyes to widen. You didn’t even want to hear his name. “Is… A great show…!”
“Oh, I love Honey Time!” Soonyoung chimed, wrapping his arm around you again.
“Ew, since when were you two this close?” Wonwoo asked.
“Since… Today! Happy birthday!” you cheered. “Please, can you take me home…?”
“You can stay the night if you want,” Soonyoung offered.
“Nope, nuh-uh, I won’t allow it. Hansol, walk her home -”
“Ugh, shut up for once, Wonwoo!” you scolded. The whole room was silent at your outburst, but you didn’t care. You certainly didn’t care for Hansol’s hurt expression, either. “Forget it, I’ll go by myself.”
“Yah, _____ -!”
You stormed off into the dark streets. The beginning of the night was a lot warmer, but now you could feel every goosebump on your exposed skin. It felt numbing, but you didn’t care anymore. You were drunk, exhausted, and over it.
You knew someone was following behind you. You hoped it was either Wonwoo, Soonyoung, and even Mingyu, but you prayed to God it wasn’t Hansol - he was the last person you wanted to see. But normally, Wonwoo would be nagging you for being such a brat just now, Soonyoung would have walked really close to you, and Mingyu would have pulled you into a headlock. But the person behind you did neither of those things.
Hansol watched the way you walked in front of him. At first, your stride was angry - you stomped the concrete like you hate it. To be honest, it was really cute. But then you progressively got slower, dragging your feet and hanging your head low. You looked tired - no, exhausted - mentally, physically, emotionally, and it was all his fault.
You felt a heavy jacket get thrown over you shoulders before you fell face-first on the grass in front of you.
“Oh, shit,” Hansol said, kneeling beside you. “My bad. Are you ok?”
“Don’t touch me,” you muttered into the ground. “I’ll just lay here.”
“Then I’ll lay with you.”
“No, I don’t want you to.”
“Unless you can get up, you don’t have much of a choice, do you?”
“I can just feel your smug smirk piercing through me. I want to smack that smirk off of your dumb, beautiful face,” you threatened.
Hansol gently helped you up from the ground and held you at arms length. One hand plucked pieces of grass from your hair while the other kept you from swaying side-to-side. He couldn’t hold in his growing grin when you pouted at him with sleepy, half-lidded eyes.
“I said don’t touch me…”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not Hyejin.”
“And I’m not Soonyoung.”
“Obviously not by the way you danced with Hyejin tonight. Soonyoung can dance way better than you ever could! And it was the best time of my life!”
Hansol knows the intention behind your words was meant to hurt him, and to be honest, it did, but the way that you were acting was so cute that he ignored the slight sting in his chest.
“Do you want me to call him to walk you home instead?” he challenged, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Yes.”
“Ah, you were supposed to say no.”
You ignored his comment as you stumbled passed him, making your way home once more. Hansol continued to follow behind you, catching you at least three more times when you tripped on the uneven sidewalk, earning himself another three snarky remarks about how you weren’t Hyejin and to keep his hands off of you.
When you stood in front of you apartment, you chucked the jacket harshly in his face.
“I deserve that,” he said.
“Go home.”
“Are you jealous of Hyejin?”
“Are you jealous of Soonyoung?”
“Yes,” he admitted without hesitation, catching you off guard. “And Wonwoo. And Mingyu. And any guy who comes even close to you.”
“Why?” you scoffed.
“Are you jealous of Hyejin?” he repeated. The small smirk on his face told you he already knew the answer.
“… Yes.”
“Ok,” his smirk widened. “Good night, _____.”
“Wait, what? You can’t just leave! Now I have questions!” you cried.
“I’ll answer them when I see you tomorrow.”
“That’s funny, because I definitely don’t remember agreeing to that.”
“It’s my way of saying I want to see you tomorrow.” And before you realized it, Hansol started to back away, making him the winner of this sad argument. He winked, smiling at the charming way you blushed so easily. “Sweet dreams, _____.”
You slept two whole hours that night.
#svtwriters#sfwseventeen#hansol#vernon#seventeen#svt#seventeen vernon#seventeen hansol#svt hansol#svt vernon#seventeen scenarios#seventeen imagines#svt imagines#svt scenarios#kpop#k-pop#this is all over the place bYE
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