#even if he doesn’t understand the language | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

riizegasm · 3 days

Text

Cherry Waves || H. DM (Taesan)

❀ pairing: boynextdoor taesan x fem!reader (mentions of riize anton)

❀ genre: college!au, fluff, minor crack

❀ word count: ~5.1k

❀ warnings: explicit language, suggestive themes, taesan is a little bit of a loser here (endearingly), slightly ooc!taesan

❀ summary: You don't like Deftones. You like Han Taesan. Han Taesan likes you and Deftones. All it takes is some rock music, a bad college party, and a few broken vinyls for you to reconcile the differences. With stuttered words and an embarrassing amount of blushing, you learn to make it work.

❀ a/n: My first piece with absolutely zero angst! Are you guys proud of me? I absolutely adore this piece, so I hope you guys do as well. As always, likes, replies, and reblogs are encouraged!

masterlist

“Dude, just go talk to her!”

Taesan immediately flushes at the comment, smacking a hand over Jaehyun’s mouth. It doesn’t matter if the music in the party is loud enough to drown out every conversation. He can’t risk anyone else hearing, especially you.

“Shut up,” he hisses, finally releasing his hold on his best friend’s mouth. “What if she hears you?”

Jaehyun cocks an eyebrow. “Do you want her to hear me? HEY Y/N!”

Taesan scrambles to cover Jaehyun’s mouth again, but it’s too late. The damage has already been done.

Your eyes light up when you spot the duo in the kitchen, waving animatedly. Taesan struggles to contain the stampede running through his stomach and the blush overtaking his cheeks. You always look stunning, but there’s something about your baggy jeans and cropped graphic tee that has Taesan swooning. It should be embarrassing, how good he thinks you look, but nothing can overcome the feeling of sheer panic as you begin to approach.

“Myungjae! It’s been forever,” you say, reaching over to pull your friend into a hug.

“I know! It’s weird not having classes together anymore,” Jaehyun responds with a dramatic fake sob.

Your slight giggle is barely audible above the music, but it’s almost as if Taesan’s ears are specifically in tune to you and every sound you make. He silently curses when you turn your eyes to him, a soft smile gracing your face. He knows his face must be fire engine red at this point, simply unable to cope with you being so close.

“Hi Taesan. Long time no see.”

It hasn’t been that long since he’s seen you, but he’s not quite sure how to articulate that without sounding like a total creep. That’s not to say he’s a stalker or anything, but the two of you seem to cross paths quite frequently on campus. You wouldn’t know, of course, since Taesan always ducks for cover any time he spots you coming. Instead of saying that very fact, he opts for a simple smile.

“Yeah, it has. How have you been?” He mentally cheers at his ability to get his sentence out without stuttering. “Jaehyun told me you’ve been pretty busy.”

Your smile grows even brighter, eyes taking on a teasing glint. “You asked about me?”

Even the overly loud bass line can’t vibrate a single cell in Taesan’s body, the man having grown rigid at your question. The short answer is yes. How could he not when even the tiniest glimpse of you has his heart racing in his chest. He knows he can’t say that, though, mouth opening and closing repeatedly as he flounders for an answer.

“I’m just kidding!” You giggle. “But Myungjae is right. I’ve been so busy this semester. My research project is taking up all of my time.”

When Taesan looks to his left, he notices the aforementioned man is nowhere in sight, clearly having abandoned you two. Taesan makes a mental note to beat him up a little bit later. But for now, he just has to focus on not weirding you out.

“Oh! Um, what’s your research project on?”

With the way your eyes brighten underneath the dim purple glow of the party, Taesan wishes he had his camera. He wishes he could simply capture something that showed just how happy you were. For once, he understands why artists spend hours capturing their subjects on canvas. He could fill an entire gallery with paintings dedicated to the light in your eyes and the brightness of your smile.

“It’s on how urbanization and lack of green spaces affect mental health,” you beam. “And I’ve lowkey gotten so much pushback from my professors because they feel like it’s been done before but—oh shit.”

Taesan barely registers the fact that you stopped talking, too engrossed in the delighted expression on your face. But when that drops in favor of a panicked look, he finally snaps out of his reverie. Despite the dim lighting, it’s clear that you’re looking at something, or rather someone. When Taesan turns to figure out exactly what it is, you’re quick to place a hand on his cheek, turning him back to face you instead.

“Don’t look!” You exclaim in a whisper. “It’s my ex. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

The words take a second for Taesan to digest, still focusing on where your warm palm lays on his cheek.

“Your ex?”

Taesan was vaguely aware of the fact that you were in a relationship about a year or so ago, having heard from Jaehyun about the hardship of your breakup. He didn’t know you back then, but he imagined that it would have made him sick, to see you stupefied in love. He never considered himself the jealous type, but when it came to you, he imagined that even another person looking at you too long would set him off.

“Yeah, shit. He’s coming. I’m about to do something and please just go along with it.”

Taesan flushes when you make eye contact again, your hand making a slow trail from his cheek down to wrap around the back of his neck. He struggles not to moan when your nails begin to play with the small hairs at the nape of his neck. It makes it even worse that he can’t help but track the movement of your mouth as you lick your glossy lips, cheeks pulling upward into a sultry smile. When your other hand places itself gently on his chest, Taesan doesn’t know whether to curse or cheer. A fuzzy feeling is slowly clouding his head, all of the blood in his body having rushed south.

He knows he has to make this believable, though, so he snakes a hand around your waist, thumbing at the bare skin between the waistband of your jeans and the hem of your shirt. It takes all of his resolve not to explode right then and there. How the fuck are you so soft?

“Y/N?”

Your eyes sharpen as they make contact with the tall man rounding the corner. Your hands still stay glued to Taesan, though, not willing to part from the close contact. Your ex seems to notice, judging by the way his eyes scan the points where the two of you are connected.

“Oh, Anton! Didn’t know you’d be here.” Your voice carries a tinge of annoyance as you regard the man. “What’s up?”

Anton stutters out an answer, voice coming out too soft to compete with the noise of the party. You cock your head at his words, not fully able to hear what he’s saying. It’s not like you’d want to, anyways, not with the calloused fingers splayed across the exposed skin of your waist and the soft locks peeking through your fingers. You don’t seem to be the only one who doesn’t want to part, though. This close, it’s easy to feel the heart thundering underneath your palms and the goosebumps rising where your nails tease the skin of a neck. Interesting.

“What was that?” You question, cocking your head cutely.

Anton’s blush is clear despite the colored lighting of the party. “Um, never mind. I’ll see you around, I guess.”

You nod, watching as his overly tall form retreats. Once he’s lost in the throng of people crowding the party, you let out a sigh, shoulders sagging in relief. Taesan remains frozen where you hold him, eyes widened in shock. It’s only when you take in his expression that you realize that the two of you are still connected, rushing to take a step back. Taesan takes a breath when his own hands fall to his sides, chest shaking as he exhales.

“I’m so sorry!” You wince. “But thank you for doing that. He’s, uh, persistent, I’ll say.”

“N-no problem,” Taesan stutters.

Silence lingers between the two of you, except the sultry music of the party makes it not all that silent. Distantly, you hear a call of your name, just barely audible above the smooth melody of the R&B track that blasts from the speakers. You turn to give your friend a quick wave before facing Taesan once again, not surprised to see his gaze trained on the floor.

“I’ll, um, see you around,” you mutter, smoothing a hand down the expanse of his bare arm before leaving to meet your friend.

Taesan remains rooted in place, unmoving for a long few moments. The phantom warmth of your hands against his skin has him shivering, unable to think of anything else. After a moment, he sighs, silently willing his erection away.

. . .

“And then her nails were playing with the hair on the back of my neck, and I swear to god, I was about to cream my pants!”

“Ew,” Woonhak gags as he fiddles with the game controller.

“No talking about how Y/N gave you a boner in front of the baby,” Sungho nags. “Save it for your studio and put it in a song.”

Taesan sticks his tongue out at the older man, always having hated when he puts his motherly persona on. Normally, Taesan isn’t the one to take up all the air in the room discussing his newest infatuation. But after last night, it’s all he can seem to talk about.

He would admit that Sungho has a point if he hadn’t already written three songs in less than twenty four hours just about the feeling of your hands on his skin alone. It’s as if you’re consuming him, quite literally engulfing him in the memory of you. You exist so vividly in his mind, the curl of your smile, the color of your eyes, the sweet scent of your perfume. Just the memory of it all has him wondering if he needs to compose a fourth song right now.

“Where did Jaehyun go?” Donghyun asks after he loses the game, pointedly ignoring Woonhak’s celebratory dance. “I feel like he’s been gone for an hour.”

Sanghyuk barely looks up from his phone, speaking through a mouthful of potato chips. “He went to meet up with Y/N for ice cream. Apparently she was having an emergency or something.”

A complete sense of dread overtakes Taesan’s body, fully frozen in the beanbag he had chosen to sit on. What if your ex had come back? What if he was able to see right through your little act and had come back to try to win you over? What if the two of you were getting back together? Or even worse, what if you were telling Jaehyun about the moment you had yesterday, complaining that Taesan was a creep for liking your touch so much? What if you felt uncomfortable around him?

Worst of all, what if you saw his boner?

He isn’t afforded much longer to stew in his hypotheticals, as Jaehyun chooses that exact moment to come through the door. Instantly, he locks eyes with Taesan, expression curling into an annoying smirk. The younger tries his best to seem nonchalant, but he knows his friend can likely see right through him. He’s never been the most subtle.

“Han Taesan,” Jaehyun practically yells as he approaches the living room, ignoring everyone else in the room. “You son of a bitch!”

Taesan’s eyes widen into saucers, staring down the man as he approaches with the force of a bull. “What?”

Jaehyun continues to smirk, plopping down into the beanbag next to him. “I can’t believe you’ve actually done it. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Didn’t know I had what in me?”

“I’m sworn to secrecy,” the man responds, miming zipping his lips shut. “But just know that I’m proud of you, son.”

“I thought I was your son,” Woonhak whines from in front of the tv.

Jaehyun immediately grins, not missing the opportunity to smother the youngest. He moves to go crowd him against the couch, pressing obnoxiously loud kisses all over his face. Donghyun laughs at the antics, happy that it finally gives him a chance to beat Woonhak at the video game. Unfortunately, Taesan isn’t able to laugh, still left reeling over Jaehyun’s earlier comments.

What the hell did he do?

. . .

You take a deep breath, smoothing out your clothes and checking your makeup in your compact mirror. It’s not like you have much to worry about. You know that you look good, having spent an extra twenty minutes getting ready for this exact moment. Thankfully the ten minute walk to get to your destination wasn’t enough to ruin your appearance.

A little bell above the door jingles when you enter the tiny record shop, instantly greeted with the loud riffs of a Deftones song. It’s somewhat jarring and not exactly to your taste, unexpected from a quaint shop near a college campus. But when you remember exactly who works here, it all makes sense.

“Welcome in!” A voice calls from somewhere in the depths of the store.

With all of the stacks of CDs, records, and magazines, it’s impossible to see the majority of the store. But you don’t need to see to know exactly who the voice belongs to. The fact that he’s here brings warmth to your cheeks, forcing you to take a deep breath to keep your composure. You remind yourself that he can’t see you with everything in the way. First thing’s first, you have to fix that.

Inky black hair is the only thing visible when you approach the counter, the worker crouching underneath to unpack some boxes. You try not to laugh when you hear a muffled curse, the cashier clearly displeased.

“Hey Taesan,” you say softly, trying your hardest not to sound as flustered as you feel.

Your response comes in the form of a loud thump, followed by a curse. Before you can react, Taesan is standing to his full height, hand rubbing a spot on the back of his head. His eyes are rounded in surprise, mouth hanging open in half a groan of pain.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay?” You question.

“Y/N,” he breathes. “Yeah, I’m, um, fine. It doesn’t even hurt!”

You bite back a giggle as the man stutters over his words. “Are you sure? It sounded pretty gnarly.”

“No, not at all. I’m good, I swear.” Taesan’s hand finally leaves the back of his head, moving instead to awkwardly scratch the base of his neck. “What are you doing here?”

In reality, you should have known that he was going to ask. It’s a good question, really, because you don’t know. All you know is that Jaehyun mentioned that Taesan worked here and you’ve been working up the courage to drop by ever since. In the week that you’ve been preparing to come, it never crossed your mind to come ready with an excuse.

“Oh! Well…” your eyes scan the area, looking for anything that could be your saving grace. “I was looking for some retro rock albums! I was telling Myungjae and he said I should come here because you work here. He also said you have really good taste, so…”

It’s not completely untrue, which you feel like is better than flat out lying. And seeing the excited smile bloom on Taesan’s face proves just how much it was worth it.

“You’re into rock?” He asks, eyes lit up like a child on Christmas. “Who’s your favorite band?”

Fuck. “Deftones!”

You guess they are your favorite, since they seem to be the only band you recognize as Taesan rambles on about his love of 90s bands. It makes it easier to zone out, tracing the shape of his lips as they form excited syllables and getting lost in the glimmer in his eyes. You were always so attuned to how attractive Taesan is, but seeing him so excited is undoubtedly different. You try your hardest to ignore the continuous fluttering in your chest.

“So?” Taesan asks, drumming his fingers against the wooden counter. “Are you looking for vinyl, cassette, or CD?”

You’re quick to snap out of your reverie, smiling sheepishly. “Vinyl.”

. . .

Taesan swears he must have been a hero in his last life or something. He must have saved kids from a burning orphanage or stopped a war from happening. He must have saved one million trees or stopped robbers from ransacking grandmas’ houses. How else can he explain why he’s been blessed with so much of your presence over the last few weeks?

Every Tuesday and Friday, you waltz into the record store like clockwork, looking like nothing short of a dream. You never really buy anything, which doesn’t bother Taesan, because it means you spend extra time talking to him. He constantly swoons when you laugh at his jokes, perpetually fighting a blush near you. The angelic sounds of your giggles are always heard over the harsh guitar riffs of Deftones, which he makes sure to always have on when you walk in.

You’re giggling now, head tipped back and nose scrunched adorably. Taesan swears that one day he’s going to record the sound and put it in a song. It would just add to the list of countless songs he’s produced about you, a plethora of hard hitting raps and softer rock ballads. He wonders if one day he’ll ever get to play them for you.

“I can’t believe you knocked over the entire display,” you giggle. “Did any of them break?”

Taesan smiles sheepishly. “Let’s just say a huge chunk was cut out of my paycheck to repair the damage.”

It’s hard for Taesan to do anything but stare as you chuckle once again. The tips of his fingers itch to reach out and smooth back the stray pieces of your hair that have freed themselves from your neat style, desperate to make any type of physical contact. He’s craved to feel your soft skin again ever since the party two months ago. He wonders if you’re still just as soft, if your nails would scratch his scalp the same way, if you’d bite your glossy lips as you peered into his eyes again.

“You know, I wish I could work in a place like this. I feel like it would just be perfect since I love music so much,” you gush. “I’ve always wanted to make my own song, but it seems so difficult.”

Taesan lights up at your admission. “I could show you!”

At the cute tilt of your head, he decides to backtrack.

“I mean, I don’t know if you know, but I make music. It’s actually how I met Jaehyun! So, if you’re curious on how to do it, you can drop by the studio sometime and I could show you.”

“Really? You’d do that for me?”

You don’t even know the beginning of what Taesan would do for you, but instead of telling you so, the boy just nods. “Of course.”

The two of you make arrangements for you to stop by the next day, Taesan fighting a smile as you give him your number so he can send the address.

He ends up using it for more than that, the two of you chatting via text for the rest of the afternoon. You try your best to dismiss it as him just being friendly, ignoring the heat that rises to your cheeks every time your phone goes off with a new notification. It’s right before you leave for your morning class that you get another one, causing you to snort out a laugh:

See you in the music building on the second floor! Lmk if you get lost. That would suck :(

The music building is one of the oldest buildings on campus, its ivy-covered brick exterior serving as a trademark of your school. But when you push through the grandiose front doors, you realize that the inside is actually much nicer than you had expected. Sleek linoleum floors are polished so well that they practically serve as mirrors, reflecting the light from the opulent overhead fixtures. Even the staircase is nice, its carved wooden railing cold to the touch as you ascend to the second floor. Pretty signs make studio 2N easy enough to find, tucked at the end of a long hallway.

It’s only as you approach the door that your nerves begin to show themselves. You knock on the studio door with sweaty palms, hating the way that your heart hammers in your chest. The feeling of being so nervous before you see Taesan has become increasingly familiar as you both have spent more and more time together. Despite the number of visits you have paid to the record store, your body has never stopped kicking into overdrive at the thought of seeing him.

Before you can knock again, the studio door swings open, a tall figure standing in the doorway. He’s bathed in blue light from the LEDs that hang along the walls, creating a halo around his dark locks. A pair of thick black glasses frame his eyes, softening his normally intimidating look. When he breaks into a smile, you find yourself doing the same, mirroring his infatuated expression.

“You made it,” he says softly, motioning you inside.

The door is heavy when it falls shut behind you, leaving the both of you in a blue bathed silence.

“I did,” you reply, looking around at the various recording equipment strewn around the space. “This place is incredible.”

Taesan shoots you a closed lipped smile, sitting down at a desk on the far side of the room. He motions to a comfy looking chair next to him, smiling fully when you sit down next to him.

“Thanks. Jaehyun and I got special permission to decorate it and make it more of our own. I feel like it makes it easier to get the creative juices flowing, you know?”

You have no idea, no longer having paid attention after the first word. It’s too easy to get lost in the way Taesan’s mouth moves as he speaks, something you have found happening over and over again whenever you see each other. You thank the divine that he hasn’t seemed to notice your habit.

“Oh!” Taesan interrupts his own ramblings. “We also have a fridge. Do you want anything? Water, juice, beer?”

“You guys can have beer in here?”

Taesann smirks as he approaches the fridge. “Nope. Catch!”

The can is ice cold when it falls into your hands, serving as a cool refuge for the otherwise clammy surface. You wait until Taesan settles back next to you to crack the drink open, smiling when he bumps his can against yours in a silent cheers.

Being with Taesan in his studio proves to be extremely different from being with him in the record store. He’s clearly in his element here, showing you what each button of his complex equipment does as he stacks sounds on top of each other. He even asks for your input, seeing what you like best before adding it to the track. The beer also seems to help ease his nerves, no longer a stuttering mess whenever he addresses you.

It makes the time that passes feel like nothing as the two of you work on the song. A couple of hours in, you both have created an entire instrumental track, just waiting for lyrics to complete it.

“Who knew you were such a good producer?” Taesan asks as he saves and closes out of the track. “You must have been an artist in your past life.”

You roll your eyes at the joke, cracking a smile at the boy’s antics. When you glance back at the screen, however, the smile instantly dissipates from your face.

“Taesan,” you breathe. “What’s that?”

The man in question follows your gaze where it is trained on his computer screen, clearly stuck on a folder that is simply labeled with your name. He feels his heart rising into his throat, rushing to open up a new window to hide the folder.

“N-nothing,” he stammers, but judging by your expression, he knows it’s too late. “I promise it’s not anything weird or creepy or anything! Shit, that makes it sound more creepy. But it’s not, I swear.”

“Taesan,” you repeat slowly, “what was that?”

The man buries his face into his hands, groaning loudly before looking at you again. “Fuck, you’re gonna think I’m such a loser.”

You choose not to respond to that, motioning at his computer again. Even in the artificial blue light, you can see the color that begins to rise to his cheeks. In any other situation, you’d consider it cute, but you’re still not sure whether or not to be creeped out.

Taesan sighs, double clicking the folder to reveal a plethora of untitled files. You try your best to see what they are, or what they could contain, but Taesan opens one before you get a chance. It brings you right back to his producing software, a track beginning to load.

“Just listen.”

The melody that plays is hard hitting, a little jarring in the small space. There’s a strong drum beat for a moment, only to be slowed down right before a voice starts rapping.

Taesan keeps his eyes firmly trained on the floor as the song plays, trying his hardest not to cringe at his own lyrics. He goes on and on about the way you laugh, the color of your eyes, the swell of your hips. In the chorus, he highlights how much he wants to be yours, how perfect you are. It all repeats until the end, where he confesses how perfect he could be for you.

When the song ends, neither of you move, letting an oppressive silence linger in the small space. You don’t even notice the way your mouth has hung open until you feel a slight pain in your jaw. Despite it, you can’t seem to keep your mouth closed, continually floundering for words.

“You wrote that?” You question, voice barely coming out as a whisper.

Taesan simply nods.

“About me?”

When the boy nods a second time, you can’t help but stand from the chair, taking the two steps necessary to stand in front of him. He’s clearly startled when you place a hand on his shoulder, eyes tracing your figure as he looks up. The light of the computer screen is reflected in his eyes, making them appear as if they are sparkling.

“You like me?”

Taesan swallows thickly at your question, nodding again slowly. He goes to look away, but you place a hand under his jaw, preventing him from turning.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because,” Taesan whispers. “You’re you and I’m me. I like you so much, but you’re, like, so out of my league. I didn’t want you to laugh at me.”

You can’t help the giggle that escapes at the boy’s confession. But it immediately dies in your throat when Taesan squeezes his eyes shut, looking on the verge of tears. You instantly scramble to reassure him.

“No, I promise I’m not laughing because of that,” you coo. “It’s just…why do you think I kept coming by the record store?”

Taesan opens his eyes, glistening with unshed tears. “Because you like Deftones…?”

“Oh my god!”

You can’t help but fully laugh this time, releasing Taesan’s face in favor of squeezing onto his lap. His mouth drops into a soft “o” as you settle in, hands frozen awkwardly on the arm rests. You take his surprise as an opportunity to snake a hand around the back of his neck, letting your nails scratch at the base of his skull like they did months prior.

“Taesan,” you whisper. “I don’t like Deftones.”

“You don’t?”

“Nope. I like you.”

You wish you had a camera to capture Taesan’s expression at the moment when what you’re saying clicks for him. It takes a moment, the words seemingly churning in his head before their meaning becomes apparent. His head cocks to the side, eyes no longer glistening with unshed tears, but rather sparkling with disbelief.

“You like me?”

The chuckle that escapes you is dripping with fondness, your hands tightening where they rest around Taesan’s shoulders. “Yes. I like you a lot.”

“I also like you a lot.”

You playfully roll your eyes. “You already mentioned that part.”

Taesan still looks nervous, hands clearly fumbling as he decides whether or not it’s okay to touch you. “So…what now?”

You inch forward, slowly minimizing the already small distance between the two of you. It’s close enough that you can feel Taesan’s shaky breath, warm as it fans your face. He goes a little cross eyed as he tries to maintain eye contact, clearly still startled at the newfound close contact.

“Now you kiss me.”

There’s a brief hesitation, the tiniest moment in which Taesan’s eyes flicker down to your lips before meeting your gaze once more. But then, he immediately surges forward to close the distance between you two, his soft lips blanketing yours. It’s a timid, chaste kiss that only lasts a few seconds before he pulls away.

“Taesan,” you whisper, as if not wanting the words to escape the cocoon that you have created with your bodies. “Kiss me again.”

And he does. He kisses you again and again until your hands travel to his cheeks, keeping him in place. It allows you to kiss him deeper, savoring the warm feeling of his mouth on yours.

Despite his shy nature, Taesan seems anything but inexperienced as he finally relaxes into the kiss. His hands slowly migrate from the arm rests to your hips, hands smoothing along the fabric of your jeans. He strikes a comfortable balance between the gentle way he kisses and the firm groping of your body.

Just when you start to lose yourself in the feeling, he pulls away, leaving both of you panting.

“Wait, Y/N…let me play you another song.”

With a little bit of shuffling and clicking, Taesan finds the audio file he's looking for, kiss-swollen lips settling into a satisfied grin. He leans back to observe you as he presses play, letting a melody flow through the speakers.

You're my girl

And that's alright

If you sting me, I won't mind

'Cause you're my girl

And that's alright

If you sting me, I won't mind.

.FIN.

#boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor #boynextdoor smut #boynextdoor fluff #bnd #han taesan #han taesan imagines #written in the stars

138 notes · View notes

blue-jisungs · 3 days

Text

[ 📚 ] highschool sweethearts

# author's note ... idk guys i saw the pic and sobbed… this is very random so bear with me ! i love wishies sm :( this is for my vv hardworking zanzan @slytherinshua ilysm baby

# warnings ... swearing teehee also if something is weird logic-wise keep in mind that european schooling system is a lil diff than asian/american so thats that! i tried to keep it as neautral as possible tho!

┆彡 SION [ 시온 ]

i just wanna say that i love him bye

um right yes

hes soooo FUCKING CUTE

i feel like he’d keep track of every exam you have n all the hw you need to do

definitely helps you out w studying for them but also does the homework for you even if you tell him not to :(

he just wants to help his girl out okay :(

if you finish classes later than him he WILL wait and walk you home, no matter the time or distance

he likes languages so definitely helps you out with studying for language class

OR if you’re a natural learner then he loves practicing pronunciation n conversations with you

demands kisses in return though ~~

during breaks he’ll often read so if he’s in the classroom, you’ll just come and hold his hand n do your thing

or! if the break is longer and he’s outside, you’ll find him reading under a tree… so you just lay in his legs, back pressed to his chest… and you doze off to gain some energy for the next class

also!! will not take no as an answer if he’s offering his food bc you forgot your lunch or are still hungry <\3

┆彡 RIKU [ 前田陸 ]

i feel like he wouldn’t be the nerdy type of student BUT he’s not failing lmaosnosjw

he’s very patient so he won’t hesitate to spend all night to help you understand some subjects

deffo runs up to you in the hallways, not caring if he steps on someone 😭

riku is very energetic so he’ll be your personal coffee cup in the morning, when you’re trying your best to stay awake during boring class

he’s a lil prankster tho so expect stolen pens or goofy doodles on your notes >:)

tho makes up for it by buying you baked goods in his fav bakery :”)

for sure loves bragging about you so he will hold your hand in the hallway or in the cafeteria 🥹

and if someone throws a comment abt how "gross" the pda is… he’s smothering your face in kisses hehe

(he just couldn’t care less 😌)

┆彡 YUSHI [ 得能勇志 ]

whenever your boyfriend is missing, you bet your ass he’ll be at the soccer field playing w his friends

so you often bring him snacks or water (or goodies if it’s cold!)

yushi tends to be shy so he’ll quickly peck your cheek as a thank you and run off to go back, face dusted w pink :”)

and it just makes him so happy whenever you stay to watch him play

he’s in the school soccer team too! so you support him during all of his games <3

sometimes during breaks he’ll just… be here… while you study or chat with your friends… so he lets you do whatever you want w him, whether it’s playing with his fingers or making small braids or ponytails on his hair 🥹

definitely leaves cute sticky notes in your locker:(

i feel like he wouldn’t be too big on pda BUT he’d give you his jersey so people know you’re his >_<

and also carries your backpack/bag for you at every given opportunity:(

like you’re leaving your class and his hands take the bag off your shoulders the wery second you step out <\3

┆彡 JAEHEE [ 재희 ]

he likes music and history so you guessed it, he is your history nerd boyfie<3

will do everything in his willpower to explain everything clearly to you but let’s be real,, the excitement in his eyes n voice makes it hard not to listen (so you naturally learn)

(and if you pay attention till the end he gives you kisses)

jaehee is a very good student, respected amongst his peers and teachers

but he wouldn’t mind bending the rules for you

for example sneaking out during breaks to buy you snacks from the nearest convenient store…

…or running a bit late to class because he walked you to your class…

…OR having to explain why he doesn’t have his books (because he knew you forgot yours at home so he lent you his)

and so on

he’s just an angel:(

but! he’s very tall so he’ll deffo tease you by putting some stuff atop of the lockers >:(

will only give it back on the condition of kisses~~

┆彡 RYO [ 廣瀬遼 ]

doodles on your notes but its adorable so you don’t mind <3

you two deffo hang out a lot w sakuya too hehe

(sometimes you get in trouble bc of that but shhh)

he says he can’t focus when he’s studying on his own so always bribes you to study w him

and welp… you get too distracted by him… and always end up watching a movie and cudddling

so you decided to always study at a library, no distractions, no talking!

and bc it works, the library became your spot 🥹

often holds your hand under the table and draws shapes on your skin:(

will giggle quietly and look around to make sure no one’s looking… and then peck your lips as a motivation ^—^

loves cute stuff and will deffo buy you matching pens or pencil cases (often sakuya is included too but are we surprised…?)

┆彡 SAKUYA [ 藤永咲哉 ]

will bring you fresh bread or homemade bread on your important exam days:(

sakuya loves giving gifts so he’ll always have a small gift for you, no matter the occasion (even if it’s just a snack from the vending machine)

gets so so so excited whenever he sees you, will literally stop talking to whoever he was talking to and run up to kiss your cheek the second his eyes spot you in the crowd

waits for you to finish your class!! he just can’t bare being away from you >:(

his curiosity gets him in trouble sometimes…

… for example when he excuses himself to go to the toilet… but ends up peeking into your class to see how you’re doing…

shares his earphone with you during breaks🥹

sometimes you sneak to the library with him just to have a moment alone

(you get kicked up because you giggle too loudly at the jokes he makes)

not to be dramatic but he has to hold your hand all the time or will die

masterlist <3

taglist. @l3visbby ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @mon2sunjinsuver ,, @w3bqrl ,,

@eternalgyu ,, @haecien ,, @slytherinshua

52 notes · View notes

notmyneighbor · 15 hours

Text

resistance - doppel francis mosses x female reader

part 1/?

words | 4.4k

cw | eventual smut, no explicit content in this chapter. post nightmare mode lore reveal setting.

summary | You work as a secretary for the DDD, a well paying job that offers you an extra sense of security and safety.

Until you meet a doppelganger on the run after work one day, an imposter that defies everything you’ve ever known about these monsters and makes you question whether the organization that employs you isn’t the real deceiver.

taglist | @jazminetoad

ao3 link

You’d seen a doppelganger once.

Not up close; but nearby, from the balcony of your apartment. It had been raining earlier that evening. There were puddles of water everywhere, reflecting the light of the streetlamps, mirroring the clear night sky. A beautiful, peaceful scene, until you’d noticed the vans bearing the DDD logo approach the lone figure walking below. You’d instinctively stepped back into the interior of your living space, keeping to the shadows. The cleaners, as they are called, had blocked the doppel’s path with their trucks, with dozens of men clad in yellow hazmat suits. You’d heard boots splashing, shouting. Then silence. There is never any gunfire. You still don’t know how they dispatch of the replicants. But it is always neatly done. There are never any bodies. No lingering evidence. The suited men had departed as fast as they’d arrived. You’d stepped back onto the balcony to peer at the street below.

You could no longer see the stars reflected there, the pools of rainwater scattered.

***

The doppel’s eyes open.

He can’t see the faces of the humans that took him—they’re still encased in the hazmat suits that both protect them from being replicated and shield their identities. They’re standing a short distance away, hovering near the side of the room, making way for yet another human, this one not disguised, no gear encasing him. He approaches and immediately the doppelganger does not like him. There is an arrogant swagger to his walk, a cruel glint in his eyes behind the lenses of his glasses. The replicant tries to move, testing his bonds, and finds he’s been completely restrained.

The cocky man wearing the loose fitting, unbuttoned labcoat reaches the captive doppel and rakes a hand through his dark hair. There is a badge on a lanyard around his neck, bearing the DDD logo and the name Dr. W. Afton. “You almost made it inside. You’re a dead ringer for Francis Mosses. So what did you forget? Missing documents? Bad forgeries?”

The doppel frowns, his struggles slowing as the man addresses him. “Neither.”

“Where’s his paperwork?” This now directed at the two suited figures. One hands him a clear plastic bag where the clone’s ID card and entry request had been confiscated and stored inside. The doctor snatches it from the gloved hand and extracts both items, studying each before tossing them and the bag on a steel table nearby.

“These are flawless imitations as well. So I’ll ask again: Why did you get caught?”

“I don’t know.”

Afton sighs. “Do you have any idea how much money has been invested in this program? How much time and effort, how much sacrifice? It makes the Manhattan Project look like child’s play in comparison.”

The doppelganger doesn’t understand what the researcher is lamenting. He has only a rudimentary understanding of human finances. He has no idea what project he’s referring to. But he can read body language well enough, and he recognizes the anger and frustration that is bubbling just beneath the seemingly calm exterior.

“Now we’re back to square one. If you can’t even infiltrate an apartment building, how the hell are you going to invade enemy lines? Damn near worthless,” the man in the labcoat growls.

The doppel grits his teeth, renewing his attempts at escaping his bonds. He doesn’t like humans on principal, and he especially doesn’t like the one standing in front of him, insulting his kind. He wouldn’t even waste time eating him; tearing him to pieces would be satisfaction enough. He tries to shed the human disguise he’s adopted to reveal his true form beneath, to have sharp teeth and claws at the ready, alarmed when he’s unable to do so.

The doctor smiles, and the doppelganger freezes again. It is not a friendly gesture. “You’ve been given a suppressant, so don’t bother trying to change back. As for the other…I understand now. You’ve got a temper. That’s why you failed. If you’d been able to control your emotions for a few moments longer, you would’ve achieved your goal. Well, that can be adjusted. Maybe you aren’t a complete failure after all.” He turns towards his two suited coworkers. “Wipe him, and then I’ll have the team make the necessary adjustments and we’ll send him back out.”

One of the pair nods in acknowledgment and Afton departs from the room, the hem of the oversized white coat fluttering behind him. The doppelganger doesn’t know exactly what he’d meant by ‘wipe’, but he has a sneaking suspicion, and it fills him with a cold dread. Memory erasure, perhaps. His artifically created mind once again a blank slate, a naked canvas to work on. He won’t remember any of this.

He’s trying to escape for a different purpose now, attack no longer his priority, but it makes no difference. Something metallic is shoved against the side of his neck, there is a hiss of sound as something discharges, shooting into his circulatory system, and then his vision goes dark, granting him passage into oblivion.

***

You’re working late.

You don’t mind as much as you might otherwise have, because you are earning overtime. There are more and more sealed documents for you to file every day; more and more people to contact. The doppels were spreading like a virus, in spite of the efforts of the organization you’re employed by.

By now the fear is something that still lingers, but people have grown somewhat accustomed to it, going about their daily routines. Just as life had gone on during the most recent world war. Beyond your control, so your only choice was to adapt to the new normal. To men leaving and dying to protect freedom, to preserve the lives of their countrymen. Waiting for an end. Hoping for victory. It wasn’t so different with the doppelgangers; it was just that the fight was on native soil now, with both doppels and humans fighting for survival and supremacy.

You don’t recall exactly when the government run organization had come into existence; only that the DDD had mobilized fairly quickly after the news of the replicants had spread. The details had always been vague on where the doppelgangers had come from, but the general consensus was that they’d invaded from another planet. You’re not sure you believe that, but it’s also difficult to accept that there are monsters capable of wearing the face of a friend or family member, so maybe that explanation was as good as any other.

Regardless, you’ve done your secretarial job for several months now, with the added bonus of residing in a DDD guarded building. There are no guarantees of safety, of course, but it does make you feel a little more secure. The building you work in is massive; you’ve never even seen most of its interior. You’re simply relegated to an office near the entrance, one that is openly guarded, with men carrying actual weapons. Another level of safety. You’ve never witnessed an incident, never seen any type of a break in, save one overzealous news team that wanted to come in for an exclusive scoop, but that had only happened once. You’ve since seen interviews on television, prerecorded, likely scripted. Stating facts that everyone already knew. Most things still shrouded in secrecy.

Still, the DDD is keeping you safe and at the end of the day that’s all that really matters, isn’t it? You stow the last folder and switch off the desk lamp. Your work is finally finished. It’s time to go home.

You nod to the guards on the way out as you exit the building, settling your handbag over your shoulder, your ID badge tucked away, car keys in hand. It’s a beautiful evening, the season just edging towards summer. You’ll need to switch out your wardrobe soon, exchanging sweaters and wool skirts for cooler blouses and flowing dresses. The employee parking lot is a massive affair, extending far past the structure you’ve just vacated. There are still a large number of vehicles parked there. The building operated around the clock.

You finally reach your car and insert the key into the lock, momentarily distracted as you’re contemplating what you’re going to make for dinner when you get home, when you hear a voice, a low, masculine rumble, directly behind you.

“Go around to the other side and unlock the door.”

You turn to see a familiar face crouched down between the cars. The handsome, perpetually tired looking milkman from the apartment building you both live in.

Except it’s not him. Not really. You don’t need to see his ID card or entry request to know it. There’s a look in his eyes that his placid, real counterpart doesn’t have.

This is a doppelganger.

You glance past him back at the building. You’re nowhere near the entrance. No one else is around at the moment. You’re on your own.

You carefully thread the keys on the ring clutched in your hand between each finger so the jagged metal edges peek between the spaces, your fist tightening. Not the ideal weapon, but it was all you could come up with on such short notice.

“Sure,” you say, turning slowly. “I’m happy to give you a lift.” You attempt a smile, your arm striking out.

Utter failure. You’ve scratched his cheek, but that’s all. The doppel stands upright, looming over you, one hand absently touching the injury, the beads of ruby dotting his fingertips regarded for a brief moment before his eyes glare at you. “Don’t try that again, or I’ll kill you right now.”

“You wouldn’t dare. You need me to escape.” It’s beyond foolish to try to barter with a replicant, but you’re feeling strangely brave. “I doubt you know how to drive a car.”

“I’m a fast learner,” he growls, grabbing your upper arm, and some of your bravado vanishes. “Unlock the other door, and maybe I’ll let you live.”

“Fine. I’ll do it.” You try to shake him off but his grip is like iron. You have no choice but to let yourself be maneuvered to the other side of the vehicle, completing his request.

“Don’t do anything but get behind the wheel. If you try to make a run for it to get help, I will kill you.”

“I understand.” He releases you, settling inside the car, and you loop around, hoping someone will make an appearance and come to your rescue. But there’s no one. Not a soul. You sit down and shut the door, slotting the key in the ignition.

“Where are we going?”

“Where do you think? The apartments.”

You shake your head. “What is it with you doppels and that building? I don’t understand why it has such a rep—” You hear an alarm, audible even inside the car, your words abruptly halted. Your eyes meet the mimic’s.

“They’re looking for me. Drive, now.”

“They know you’re here?”

“Drive,” he says again, his fingers clamping on your arm again. “Or—”

“—Yes, I know,” you interrupt. “You’ll kill me. I’m going. I need my arm to shift gears.”

The imitation milkman relaxes his grip, allowing you to reverse the car out of the parking space and out of the lot just in time before you see a flurry of activity behind you: armed guards and men in hazmat suits, prowling around between the parked automobiles.

Francis’ doppelganger slinks further down in his seat, swiping absently at the cut you’ve inflicted, his eyes warily focused on the passing scenery outside the windows.

You debate about just going to the police, but again, you’d be gambling with time. You know how swiftly the doppels can kill. You’re not even sure if regular bullets would be effective. In any case, you’d probably never make it out of the car. Your only chance was behind you, growing further and further away the more distance your car traveled. So close. You’d been so close to rescue.

“So what were you doing lurking around a DDD facility?” You start to lower the driver’s side window, but his hand is gripping you again.

“Don’t touch anything. Just keep driving.”

“I was just trying to let some fresh air in.”

“Don’t,” he repeats again. You nod and his fingers drop from your upper extremity. “I don’t know why I was there. I woke up, and I escaped. I don’t remember all the details. I think I was given something to make me forget.”

You squirm in your seat. “Wait, you’re saying you came from inside the building? It doesn’t make sense. The DDD kills doppels. It doesn’t collect them.”

“I don’t know,” he repeats. “It’s like parts of my memory have been erased. I can’t remember how I got there.”

“How did you get out?”

“They didn’t check all the restraints when they were transferring me. One of them was loose. Pretended to still be knocked out. They believed it. That’s all I needed.”

“But the security. You couldn’t have just waltzed out.”

“That’s what they were expecting, yes. Guarding the doors. Not the roof, though. Stairs on the outside made it easy.”

“The fire escape,” you murmur. There had to be a rather sizeable distance between the top floor and the roof, but perhaps the doppels weren’t bothered by such things. It was clever, really. He was resourceful, if nothing else.

Your palms feel sweaty against the steering wheel. “So what’s going to happen when we get back to the apartments?”

He glances over at you. “What do you think? I’m going in.”

“And then what?”

“And then…I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just stay there for awhile. Plan my next move.”

“I doubt Francis is going to want a doppel roommate.”

“He doesn’t have to worry about that. I’ll be staying with you.”

“What?!”

“You heard me.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s crazy! I’m not going to harbor a fugitive doppelganger.”

“You can go about your daily activities. I won’t interfere.”

You’ve reached your destination. You park the car, killing the engine. “You’re not even going to make it inside the building without…paperwork,” you say the last softly as he withdraws documents that have been tucked into one pocket.

“You know there’s something strange going on inside that building.”

You hesitate. You’ve never doubted the organization you work for; and yet, this replicant, belonging to a species who exists solely based on its ability to deceive, seems sincere, as foolish as that sounds. They could be the words of a desperate creature, but they don’t feel like that. The dark eyes that watch you look guileless.

He could have torn you to pieces already if he’d wanted to. He could still do it right now, but he’s making no violent moves against you. So that couldn’t really be his goal.

Your surprise yourself when you nod. “There are going to be rules. Boundaries. I’m not going to walk out of the shower and have you perving on me,” you mutter.

His lips twitch, his features softening, reminding you more of the human he’s trying to imitate. “Believe me, I have no interest in anything of that regard. I’m simply looking for a place to shelter.”

“If the doorman doesn’t let you in…”

“They will.”

“You can’t go in there looking like that.” You dig a packet of tissues from your purse, handing him several. “You’re going to have to spit on it, try to scrub some of the blood…yeah, like that.” The scratches are still there after he runs the moistened material over his cheek, but at least it’s no longer streaked and spattered in crimson. “I guess that’s going to have to do. You ready?”

He crumples the stained tissues inside his fist. “I’m ready.”

***

The doppelganger knows the documents are going to pass effortlessly.

The real question is whether the doorman is going to buy his act. He has to explain the cuts on his face now. Any deviation of appearance is an immediate red flag.

You’ve got a bit of a spark in you that’s surprising, he thinks. He hadn’t been expecting you to try to defend yourself, as pointless as that activity had been. You might be employed by that hated organization, but you’re not completely blindsided by their authority. There’s a slight tinge of doubt, and he’s begun worrying that crack open a little wider.

You’ve already gone through, and now it’s his turn to pass inspection. He presents the documents and readies a smile.

“Out late, aren’t you Francis?”

“Long route today,” he replies, forcing his fingers to remain still, his claws sheathed.

“I hear that. Work hours get longer every day, but I don’t seem to be getting any richer.” The doorman slides the card back through the metal slot at the base of the window as the false milkman smiles indulgently. “What happened to your face?”

“Oh,” he says. “One of the new houses on my route has a very unfriendly cat. I made the mistake of trying to pet it. Won’t try that again.” He gives a self deprecating chuckle and the doorman winces in sympathy.

“You gotta be careful. You never know these days. Thing could be rabid. Don’t even need to worry about the doppels; got enough trouble with everything else. Cats,” he mutters, pushing the buzzer to grant the doppel entrance. “Hope you have a good evening, Francis. Get some rest. You look like you could use it.”

“Will do. Have a good one.” The doppelganger walks casually through the entrance and sighs when the door shuts behind him. You’re waiting by the elevator, arms folded across your chest, looking nervous.

“You made it through,” you whisper in what sounds like a mixture of disbelief and awe.

“I told you. Now let’s get to your apartment before we run into anyone else.”

You press the button to call the elevator and the doors slide apart. The doppel follows you inside. You reside on the top floor, at the end of the hall. He glances down the length of that corridor while you fumble the key in the lock. At last the door opens and he ducks inside, heaving another sigh of relief. Safe, for now.

You set your handbag down on the living room couch, watching as he walks around the apartment.

“Sure, make yourself at home, have a look around. Geez,” you mutter.

“It’s small,” the copycat observes, noting there is a single bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen in addition to the living room.

“It’s all I need. I’m single.” You sound a little offended.

The replicant twitches aside the drapes covering the sliding glass doors that lead onto a narrow balcony. He peers similarly out of all of the windows.

“What are you doing?” Exasperated, now.

“Checking for points of egress. In case of an emergency.”

“Oh.”

“It’ll do,” he declares, tossing the milkman’s cap on the kitchen counter and scrubbing his hair.

“Glad it meets with your approval.” You pause. “I could have ratted you out to the doorman, you know. I might not have survived, but he would’ve been safe behind the barrier. He’d have called the DDD.”

“So why didn’t you?”

Your lips part but you seem hesitant to speak. “I don’t know.” You inhale deeply. “So, about those rules.”

“Yes?”

“My bedroom, off limits. You’ll sleep on the couch. Or hibernate or whatever you do. I don’t know.”

“Agreed.”

“No answering the phone or the door. No using the stove. I don’t want you burning the place down. And you can’t make a lot of noise. I don’t want anyone knowing you’re here.”

“I don’t want anyone knowing I’m here, either. See how neatly our goals align?”

“Whatever.” You drum polished nails on the counter. “You can’t go in the bathroom when I’m in there, either. I’ll be locking the door.”

“Fine.”

“Do you even take showers? Bathe?”

“Of course. We do everything you humans do. Nearly.”

“Right.” Your fingers still. “Well, I don’t know, I guess that’s everything I can think of off the top of my head. I’m going to make dinner. I don’t know what you eat.”

“We have preferences, as I’m sure you do. Meat is obviously most favorable,” he says, his grin wolfish. “But anything will suffice for now.”

“Fine.” You reach for your apron, tying it around your waist before washing your hands. You begin rummaging around in the cupboards and regierator, then turn back to face him. “You’re not going to just stand there and watch me, are you?”

“What else am I supposed to do? How am I going to learn?”

“I’m not a culinary instructor.” You glare at him, then sigh. “You can cut vegetables, I guess.”

“You trust me with a blade?” He raises an eyebrow, then laughs at your expression, an honest gesture of amusement. “That was an attempt at humor. I’m not going to use a knife on you. My claws are likely much sharper anyway.”

“That wasn’t funny. And that’s not reassuring.” A strand of hair falls loose across your cheek as you arrange things on the counter, and he impulsively reaches for it, securing it behind your ear. You look sharply at him. “New rule. Don’t touch me. Ever.”

“Alright,” he agrees.

***

The doppelganger is not, as it turns out, a fan of vegetables.

He makes short work of the meatloaf, though, and even seems to enjoy the dessert you offer, a piece of the cake you’d made the evening before.

You’ve never had a visitor to the apartment, not once. This is the first time the other chair across from yours has been occupied. There’s a definite tension between the two of you. You don’t trust your guest, but you suppose he doesn’t really trust you, either. You’re natural born enemies, both capable of causing each other's demise, just in different ways.

After dinner the doppel surprisingly helps you clear the table and tidy the kitchen. You wonder how much of it is just a game to him; a kind of self challenge to better imitate natural human behavior. You offer him the use of the shower first but he politely declines, insisting you should indulge before him. It’s more than a little nerve wracking, knowing that creature was on the other side of the door, locked or not. You knot your robe tightly over your nightgown when you’ve finished washing. You don’t have anything clean for him to wear. Something you’ll have to try to figure out tomorrow.

You drape a sheet over the couch and tuck a spare pillow into a fresh case from the linen closet, adding a throw to the end in case he needed it. You have no idea, absolutely zero clue why you’re even doing this. It was so, so dangerous.

You hear the doppel’s footsteps in the hall. He’s wearing just his undershirt and briefs, and you look away, cheeks flushing. “You’re all set up. I’ll shut the light off on my way by.”

“Thank you.”

You blink. Gratitude. Not something you’d expected. You’re more baffled than ever. This replicant defies everything you’ve ever known about the doppelgangers.

“Goodnight, Francis. Do I call you Francis? I don’t…” Suddenly you’re backpedaling, thinking you’ve made an error, possibly insulted him.

But the doppel doesn’t seem upset. “Yes. That’s who I am, now.”

You stare at the smudged undereyes and the crooked nose, every detail of your milkman neighbor so perfectly replicated. “That’s who you’re pretending to be,” you clarify softly. “Make sure you keep that cut on your cheek clean, so you don’t get an infection.”

”Wouldnt that be preferable? If I met my demise, without you even having to lift a finger?” You frown, remaining silent. “You look better like this. Natural, without all of that paint on,” he murmurs, his hand lifting and then dropping sharply as if he’d needed to remind himself about your rule not to be touched.

”There’s nothing wrong with wearing makeup. It’s expected. Professional,” you add.

”If you say so. I still prefer this instead.”

”I’m not doing it because you like or don’t like it. That’s irrelevant.” You don’t know why the comment is making you react so strongly.

The imposter shrugs. ”Of course.”

The sudden silence stretches and you turn away. Even after you’ve shut the lamp off, you feel his eyes watching you retreat down the hall.

***

You wake up thirsty.

You lean over and switch on the lamp on the nightstand, squinting at the clock. Only one in the morning. You still had a long night ahead.

You try to swallow. Dry as the desert. It’s no use. You need a drink of water.

You shift the top sheet and swing your legs over the side of the bed, then rise and pad over to the door, trying to turn the lock silently, keeping your footsteps stealthy. You don’t want to wake the doppelganger up.

You’re able to find your way in the dark, keeping a hand on the wall, then feeling for the kitchen counter, fingers automatically shifting to count the cabinet doors until you reach the cupboard with the glasses. You softly open the door and lift the faucet, filling the glass. You’ve just taken your first sip when you hear the doppel’s voice from the living room.

“What are you doing?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I needed some water.” You enter the other room, finding the milkman’s clone standing in front of the sliding doors, one edge of the drapes held back, peering outside.

“You shouldn’t do that. What if someone sees you?” You switch the lamp on and he drops the curtain, his gaze now focused on you.

Suddenly you realize you’ve neglected to put your robe on. You’re only wearing a sleeveless nightdress, the material thin and flimsy. You fold your arms in front of you, taking random sips of water, trying to act casual.

“Why aren’t you asleep?”

“Because you are incredibly noisy. I could hear you in the other room down the hall.”

“I was trying to be quiet.”

“And failing.”

You can’t help but feel a bit insulted. And it’s silly, really. You aren’t the uninvited fugitive alien-monster-thing staying in someone’s home. “Well, I’m going back to bed now. I won’t bother you again.”

“I didn’t say it bothered me.” He pauses. “Your heart rate is elevated.”

“What?”

“Your pulse. Fast, like this.” He begins tapping rapidly against his forearm, mimicking the rhythm.

“You can’t possibly hear that.”

“I can,” he insists.

You swallow, finding your mouth is dry again. “I’m going back to bed now.”

“Goodnight.”

You think you hear him tapping again as you shut off the light.

Or maybe it’s just the echo of the real one, throbbing in your own ears.

#francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #francis mosses #thats not my neighbor #milkman #that’s not my neighbor #milkman x reader #milkman x you #the milkman #tnmn francis mosses #doppelganger francis mosses #francis mosses tnmn #doppel francis #francis tnmn #tnmn milkman

39 notes · View notes

kidvoodoo · 1 day

Text

Solitaire

The long drive from the airport passed by with a dizzying blur and Joost found himself barely taking in the scenery of the snowy streets, preferring instead to be captivated by the man in the back of the limo with him.

Käärijä. The upstart his own ex-boss had been complaining about not even a year ago. This was his savior and temporary bodyguard. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

‘He’s so much different than I pictured…’ he thought to himself. The man couldn’t be older than his early thirties, he was expecting some grizzled Fin with hard eyes and an even harsher demeanor, not an eccentrically stylish man with eyeliner, silver piercings and a bowl cut…

But the man, for all his oddities, was surprisingly warm.

He patched Joost up without question, risked his life and the lives of his people just to get the Dutchman out of danger. Joost doesn’t get it, doesn’t understand even in the slightest. He barely has a chance to process anything from the last twenty-four hours.

“Um,” he softly clears his voice, “I was gonna ask, where is a good place for me to lie low for a while? I have some cash I can use to pay rent…”

Käärijä looks at him with a puzzled expression, Joost shrinks a little under the stare.

“Why you need to rent? You coming to my place of course.”

Joost’s eyebrows shoot up and he nearly drops his glass of brandy.

“Wha-ah wait, I couldn’t do that, I would be bringing danger directly to you if I’m found out!”

The other man snorts a laugh, his eyes glinting with amusement.

“You think I scared of old Dutch gangsters? They are afraid of me! Besides, you try and go into hiding and they probably find you anyway.” He shrugs nonchalantly, as if he hasn’t just declared war on the entire Western Mafia.

“They always gonna find you, but they are stupid to try and take you while I’m watching,” he grins, those sharp canines giving his expression a vicious edge.

“Not the first time they try and cross me, now their men underneath a frozen swamp in pieces.”

Joost swallows, he forgot for a moment this isn’t just an excitable newcomer with a deathwish, he’s the Nordic Crime Lord for a reason. You don’t get far in the Underworld if you can’t get your hands dirty and bare your teeth.

“Still…it’s an imposition. I can’t in good conscience accept more help from yo-“

“Shh! Enough.” He silences Joost with a sharp word. “I say you are coming with me, you are staying at my compound. It is safest place in Finland I promise.”

Käärijä leans forward and fixes his gaze on Joost, much softer than before.

“Tommy doesn’t vouch for a lot of people. I hear you take two million from your former boss. I don’t know why you did it, maybe you need the money, but I do know a clever money man when I meet one.”

He smiles, he looks almost too sweet and genuine to have just been talking about butchered people and tossing their remains in a swamp.

“It take a lot of guts to do what you did Mr. Klein. We need people like you in the Union, if not as members, than at least allies.”

Joost drops his gaze to the ground.

“I didn’t steal the money for myself,” he says under his breath, ‘Am I really going to admit this right now?’

“What you do with it?”

“I emptied sixteen accounts and forwarded it over to INTERPOL, the two million is what the investigation is willing to discuss publicly.”

He looks up into Käärijä’s eyes and almost bashfully admits it.

“The total sum is around two Billion.”

<><><>

The rest of the journey was spent in silence, Käärijä seemed to adopt a more thoughtful demeanor as he no doubt was processing the depth of Joost’s gambit. He doesn’t blame the man, it still sounds absolutely absurd when he says it out loud.

Absurd, dangerous, stupid…

But does he regret it?

The scenery changes and it’s a while before Joost realizes they aren’t in Helsinki proper anymore. His abysmal grasp of the Finnish language isn’t helping as they pass sign after sign, the only one slightly recognizable is a larger sign displaying the name ‘Vantaa’.

Käärijä must have caught his puzzled look, as the man is beaming with pride when Joost turns to face him again.

“My city, my rules.”

Joost manages a shy smile of his own.

“I’ve always wanted to see Finland…didn’t think it would be like this of course.”

The gangster chuckles, Joost is caught off guard by the casual openness of it all.

“No worries, you gonna have a good time, a lot of fun things around here!”

“Have a good time fearing for my life you mean?” He means it in a joking way, but the concern on Käärijä’s face is evident.

“Hey, I promise you I keep you safe okay? I don’t break promises, and if I do? You can steal my money, I give you 10 seconds head start.” He winks and Joost can’t help but smile at the man, for someone supposedly so dangerous, he jokes around a lot.

A little while later the vehicle descends deeper into the city, the sky had quickly fallen dark and the twinkling lights of the streets and buildings illuminate the snowy walkways. The people are scarce on the streets, the occasional gaggle of pub-goers making their way around town seem unaffected by the cold and icy night.

“Here,” Käärijä says, tapping the glass of the window and gesturing outside. “This my place.”

Joost looks out the window at an imposing high rise building, towering twelve stories at least above the snow covered streets; It’s bright blue lighting casts a cold glow over the block, it’s massive, illuminated and worst of all, highly visible.

This…this is the hideout?!

The Finnish gangster grins and before Joost has a moment to process his now increasingly troubling situation, he’s being ushered out of the back of the car and into the frigid wintery night, up the short flight of stairs to the entrance where another bald gentleman in a black suit is waiting to open the door and welcome them inside.

His eyes adjust to the bright lights of the…lobby? The floors are a white marble and the walls equally as stark. Aside from a couple of comfortable and trendy looking leather couches, the ground floor is empty of any decorative features. At the back of the large room is a double set of silver elevator doors and sat in front of them is a concierge-type of desk. Its matte black surface stands out against the stark white room as does the figure sitting behind the desk.

Another bald man…could they be triplets? No, on further inspection Joost realizes they all seem to resemble each other, but not perfectly, not identically.

Brothers?

Joost startles and lets out an undignified yelp as the bald man who let them through the door grabs his shoulders and begins patting him down without a word.

“Hey! What are-“

“You really should have done this before he got in the car, Jere…”

Another presence startles him further causing the bald man to squeeze his shoulder threateningly.

“Be still.” The man growls. Joost freezes.

His attention is drawn back to a tutting noise, a taller blond man casually strolls up to the three, his hands in the pockets of his navy blue suit pants. He’s wearing a relaxed style shirt in crisp white and sports an easy grin. Around his neck is an expensive looking black camera, the man’s face looks…similar to-

“Jakko, relax. I don’t think Jere would let a spree shooter in the building, no matter how much of an air head he is.”

“Fuck off Mikke,” Käärijä snarls beside him, petulantly crossing his arms. “I know what I am doing.”

“Don’t let him fool you,” the blonde man winks at Joost and holds out his hand expectantly. “It’s lovely to meet you Mr. Klein, I’m Mikke, the boss’s older brother, welcome to the Union headquarters.”

The man grasps his hand for a firm albeit friendly greeting just as the bald man, Jakko apparently, digs out the meager belongings Joost had somewhat hidden in his suit’s inner pocket.

“H-Hey! That’s-“

He’s doesn’t have time to react before his wallet, phone and little vial of pills are passed off to Käärijä.

“We get you set up with secure phone card yes?” He says matter-of-factly, checking the edges of the device for any obvious tampering or bugging. “You smart to not turn it on yet.”

“Thanks I guess, but-“

“Mr Klein,” the blond man interrupts. “Look over here.”

Joost does, and is for the moment blinded by a flash of white light, having had his photo taken by the man’s black camera completely unexpectedly.

“Hey, wha-“

“For your fake ID, we’ll have it ready for you by tomorrow, also we can get you anything else document-wise within the next three days so please let me or any of the staff know! Good to meet you!” And without another word, the blond man is gone out the door behind him.

What the fuck is happening?!

“Come, let’s get upstairs okay? We have a lot of things to do before the night is over.” Käärijä says to him, passing his phone back but holding onto the wallet and pills.

He doesn’t have a moment to breathe or process anything as they make their way over to the elevators, a quick nod from the bald man at the front desk relays some unspoken information to the mafia boss and the sound of the elevator dinging echos in the empty lobby.

Loading into the elevator, Joost takes in the panel of floor numbers . Thirteen floors in total, one labeled as a basement beneath the building, the top floor button has a number pad next to it, off limits to anyone without the code.

“Fifty Euros? That’s all you have?” Käärijä asks in a shocked tone, he’s digging through Joost’ wallet now. “You say you have money for rent? This not enough!”

Joost moves to yank the wallet out of the Fins hand but one look from Jakko behind his dark shades and his hand lowers. He still resolves to clear his throat and holds out his palm in a gesture of polite request.

“May I please have my wallet back? There isn’t anything dangerous in there I promise, I shredded my ID and bank cards. I was planning on fencing some information for additional funds.”

Käärijä cocks a disbelieving eyebrow at that as he pulls out the only other thing in Joost’s wallet, an old folded up Polaroid.

“Wait! Please don’t-“ he begs, the gangster takes one look at Joost’s face and his desperate tone must have struck something, because the man is carefully tucking the photo back in and returning his wallet and phone.

“Sorry, Mikke was right I should have checked sooner.” His tone is apologetic and Joost sighs, pocketing his phone and wallet again.

“It’s…it’s fine, really. I understand you can’t be too careful in this business. And I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” He offers a shy smile, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. Käärijä pats him on the shoulder and the elevator dings to announce their arrival to the eleventh floor, the silver double doors parting to reveal new space.

The space is huge, penthouse sized with clean looking floors and expensive, elegant furnishings. The lighting is studio style with the sliders able to accommodate whatever level of visibility is needed, for now it’s a soft glow that doesn’t strain the eyes. The windows are large and have a breathtaking view of the cityscape below, there is a full sized kitchen, an alcove off to side where the bedroom and bathroom must reside, a comfortable looking leather couch, a desk, dinner table and chairs, a frankly ridiculously large flatscreen tv…

It’s…very nice.

“Here it is!” Käärijä claps his gloved hands together and practically drags Joost into the space, his excitement evident. “We getting you a new laptop and there is plenty of food if you are hungry, oh! Here is the bedroom, you have a great view of the river, we get your phone working tomorrow don’t worry-“

Joost can’t help but sputter in amusement a little at the man’s energetic enthusiasm, for a moment he forgets he’s being hunted by the most dangerous gangsters in all of Western Europe and instead lets himself be whisked away by the gangster. He forgets he’s in the company of the man upheaving one hundred years of underworld tradition, he forgets, as he looks out the window of his new bedroom at the glittering lights of the city below, dots of yellow and gold reflecting off the snowy cityscape. He nearly gasps at the beauty in the night.

“You want to hang onto these?” Käärijä asks from behind him, Joost turns and sees the man holding his little bottle of pills, a soft yet sad look on his face.

“Oh, I…I guess I should.” Joost stammers, staring down at the two little pills. He nearly forgot he had these. His just-in-case. Last resort.

“You know,” Käärijä says quietly, taking a second to choose his words wisely. “I hope you can be comfortable here. I am sorry this all happening.”

“But my place is right above, you can use call button by elevator if you need anything, okay?”

Joost feels almost guilty in this moment, it’s obvious Käärijä knows what is in the bottle but he won’t say it aloud. The man has risked his life for him, taken him in and is using all his collected resources to protect him. And here Joost is taking back the bottle.

Like he would thank the man with the gift of his corpse.

“Um,” Joost begins, taking it all in. “I really do want to thank you. I don’t have…many friends out there, at least not many who would go out of their way to help me like this…”

You don’t have any friends anymore, you robbed them blind and put a target on your head.

“So if there is anything I can do to repay you, please let me know. I don’t want to just take something without returning in kind.”

Käärijä looks into his eyes and a smile blossoms on his face though the sadness in his eyes stays. He squeezes Joost’s hand, the bottle of pills a barrier between them but the warmth in there radiating through the leather glove he wears. Joost can’t help but blush a little.

“The only thing you need to do is relax now, we gonna take care of this okay? Tomorrow I give you actual tour of the place, we get your phone secure and get you ID card.” He gives Joost’s hand one last squeeze and then he’s heading towards the door, Jakko standing vigilantly by the elevator waiting for him.

Joost watches him go, the bottle still clenched in his hand. The glass is warm as is his palm.

The man gives one last wave goodbye before the elevator doors close and it begins to descend, leaving Joost in the quiet of his new residence.

He takes a minute to let it all sink in. In twenty-four hours, his life has completely shattered and was simultaneously reconstructed in an instant. From the moment he ended the phone call with Tommy, his heart hasn’t stopped pounding and the eventual adrenaline drain finally begins to make his body tremble.

He needs to sit down.

He all but collapses on the bed, his bed, with the dark blue duvet cover and soft looking white pillows and stared at the ceiling, feeling the manic fight-or-flight instinct dissolving in his blood.

Minutes passed, maybe hours. Joost’s mind calms and he takes in his surroundings properly. There is a bedside table with a small reading lamp, next to it is an ashtray with a pack of unopened cigarettes and a lighter.

It’s his usual brand.

He should probably be more concerned about that, how could Käärijä know that? If Tommy is their only mutual contact, a man he has only ever communicated with long distance, who did Käärijä have in place to know this information?

He’s too tired to care as he reaches over and opens the pack, shrugging off his suit jacket and carelessly tossing it on the floor. Lighting up a cigarette, he stares at the bandage on his hand, the non-functioning phone on the bed, the little bottle of pills…

The photo is old and creased, the edges of the Polaroid turning yellow with age. There is a skinny boy with a head of bright blond hair and a huge smile on his face, his front left tooth missing, his second baby tooth to go that year. His glasses are busted on one side, held together with tape and willpower alone. He sports a striped polo shirt that has grass stains all over it, a result of his recent roughhousing in the field behind his home. Behind him is a man giving holding up two fingers behind the boy’s head, a mocking bunny ears gesture and a jovial expression on his face. He shares the same jawline as the kid, same smile and same joy.

Joost exhales a plume of smoke and looks out into the darkness of the night, the sea of lights below seemed miles away.

What have I gotten myself into now?

<><><>

Hey! I am now posting this story on ao3! Come check it out and leave a comment if you like!

#my art #kidvoodoo #my writing #käärijä #jere pöyhönen #joost klein #jeest #jeest infection #bojan cvjetićanin #bojere #tommy cash #käsh #mafia au #Jere has all the boyfriends but this will focus mostly on the budding relationship of him and Joost <3 #thank you for all the kind messages and comments #it really helps motivate me

41 notes · View notes