nikkicchi's irrelevant two cents: -dodges thrown tomatoes- yes i know your stupid coughawesomecough author is back. hullo. so i haven't updated restart in, like, a month. but you love me. right? thought so -cackles-. so in return i'm vomiting out another story that i probably would put on hiatus again "orz.
you still love me. i know.
anyway. warning for cussing and violence and stupidity and sexual tension. this is rated t and yaoi, homophobic assholes and people under 12 gtfo. also, this is un-betad. enjoy~
ch. i
in case your parents are major retards and manage to get you caught up in an arrange marriage with the same gender you are when you are straight . . . well then, good luck to you.
Kise
x.
Being the heir of an extremely elite company isn't as fortunate as commoners make it sound to be.
It's a normal day for Kise Ryouta; his level of happiness a tad bit more than it usually is since it's Friday night and the week is finally over. He's sitting on his bed, ignoring the homework waiting to be done (which is now carelessly scattered all over his bedroom floor . . . the slut), watching the current NBA game played in the united states.
He sighs. Is basketball the only un-boring thing in this planet?
Tossing his phone along with the television remote to the other side of his king-sized bed, he rolls over till the back of his head hits the soft surface of his pillow. No piano lessons, no extra tutoring, no etiquette lessons, no this, no that, no blah-blah, no bullshit. Only a few things on his list of why he likes Fridays. No required public appearances, which means no fan-girls thus no injuries. Yes! He smiles pleasantly to himself, turning over again to gaze out his window from the second floor, and then to the digital clock placed on the bedside table.
8:02, and the sun's already beginning to set.
He takes the corner of his duvets and lifts it until it's covering the rest of his body except for his head. He reaches out for the black remote and switches off the television - seeing that the game has already ended and Miami Cool won - and debates on whether he should check his phone for whatever. Instead, he decides not to since there's more than 99.9% chance that it's flooded with party invitations and people wanting to hang out (read: use him), and plops back down onto the bed. He hates being famous—being known as the heir of KR Inc., the super hot, young, and rich model Kise Ryouta.
Hate it, hate it, hate it! He chants in his head, but before he could continue with his pessimistic train of thoughts, a knock on his door disrupts him from doing so.
"Kise-sama?"
"Kurokocchi!" He sits bolt upright on his bed, a grin suddenly spreading on his face as his personal butler peeks through the crack between the two doors separating his room from the main second floor hall. The duvet falls from his shoulders and onto his lap.
"Come in! And stop calling me with Kise-sama,"—he pouts, pointing at himself—"I thought we're friends now-ssu?"
Kuroko stares at him with a deadpan expression. "I never agreed to that."
"So mean!" The blond sulks, both disappointment and amusement in his tone, and Kuroko flatly ignores him when he sticks out his bottom lip and when he gives him the puppy eyes. "Anyway, why is Kurokocchi here? Have you finally sought the importance of out friendship and came looking for me now that you're lonely-ssu?"
Once again, the paler man just looks at him with such a blank face he could almost be compatible to a blank wall. "No."
"Too blunt that my heart hurts,"
"Your father and mother are seeking your presence," Kuroko says, almost monotone, and he can't help but want to smirk when Kise wails about how he flat-out ignored his heartbreak. "They're at the mansion's library and there seems to be guests, so I suggest that Kise-sama should best avoid going there in pajamas."
An eyebrow rose at the mention of guests, but he somewhat reluctantly nods. "Alright, thanks Kurokocchi! Can I snuggle you?"
"Goodbye, Kise-sama."
And the door shuts close, leaving Kise chuckling to himself. It takes three minutes before he rises up from his seat on the bed, and walks to his closet to change out of his pyjamas and into something more semi-formal.
Aomine
x.
He finds it nice to have girls swarming around him, especially the ones with both huge assets and pretty faces, but sometimes all the attention and same make-up smeared faces rubbing their bodies onto his sex-god-like one just gets old and boring. He doesn't mind being rich and apparently hot, really, but at times it just gets way boring and what Aomine wants is thrill, action, or something different.
He wants to get old and find more different things in this world, but at the same time he wants to return back to his childhood to rediscover the things that he had.
For once, the so-called royal ganguro has some legitimately logical thoughts in his 'fucking baboon brain that's smaller than the mitochondria', quoted from Kagami, his loyal submissive slave ("I'm called a personal butler, Ahomine-sama. And watch me shove that submissive up your arse." Kagami had snarled, double eyebrows twitching in irritation.)
The taller man between both sat on the carpeted floor, flipping through his porn magazines and then through his basketball or sports one after he's done, ignoring his butler who's currently standing by the door blabbering on how he should get his lazy ass moving. Kagami lets out a long, suffering sigh as he trots into the room, opens the closet and throws decent clothes at his (pain in the fucking ass) young master.
Aomine glares at him from his position on the floor, ripping the dress shirt off his face and looking at it with pure malice. "The fuck is this for?"
"If you were listening then you would've known, dumb shit-sama," The redhead grunts.
The bluenet shoots him a dirty look, stripping off his sweats and then putting on his formal shirt. Really, they both know they shouldn't be acting like friends nor enemies since they're simply master-and-butler—which is, mind you, taken in consideration whenever there is someone nearby, but when alone they cuss each other out like there's no tomorrow.
Aomine likes it this way; him not acting like the others, sugar-coating their bullshit to please him just because he's the future successor of an elite company.
"Well I'm sorry, dear shitty slave,"–he ignores the other man who basically groans out something that sounds like it's butt-lurr–"apparently bikini clad women are much more interesting than watching the neverending flapping of your mouth."
"Fucking STD-stained bastard,"
Aomine chuckles, his eyelashes batting and lips wagging at Kagami for more mocking effect, and it seems to be working since the said butler started chanting some curses underneath his breath. "Go fucking change, you asshole. Your parents are requesting you to get your ass downstairs for something important."
"For what?"
"For something a mere butler obviously doesn't need to know, sire."
Now it's Aomine's turn to sigh, zipping up his fly before adjusting the crooked tie around his neck. Kagami mock-bows, leaving him to finish up. Once he's done, he leaves his room, closing it roughly behind him and dragging his legs all the way to his father's office.
Kise
x.
"Mom? I'm almost done changing, you should've just waited in the library," Ryouta says over his shoulder, fixing the tie around his neck before loosening it slightly. Mrs. Kise looks at him with her lips set in a straight, thin line, and Ryouta finds it weird that his mother hasn't gushed about him or how the way his shirt is slightly crinkled or how his hair is messy, nothing. Just plain staring at him with a face that later on would her son tease her about adding wrinkles on her well managed skin.
But the wrinkles aren't whatever Kise's worrying about; it's because she has always been like this whenever something serious has happened. Really serious.
"...mom?"
The woman snaps out of her blank state and blinks at Ryouta with similar honey brown eyes. The teen stares back, but with a questioning brow arched, silently asking his mother what's wrong through eye contact. His mother clears her throat, leaning on the doorframe with crossed arms. "Oh, sorry. What was that again?"
"You should've just waited for me in the library, mom. What're you doing here-ssu?"
"Ryou, we're not talking in the library," Mrs. Kise states, twirling a curled hair with her index finger. "You, your dad and I are going to another person's house, so dress yourself as nice as possible, alright dear?"
Ryouta quickly glances at her before averting his attention back to the mirror, running a hand through messy blond locks, continuing till it looks all prim and proper. Dress properly, he notes, opening the door to his closet yet again to grab a vest and a coat. "Mm. Where are we going?"
"I'm afraid you'll have to find out when we get there."
The teen only lets his smile fade when his mum nods quietly and walks out of his room. Whatever's happening, he knows he wouldn't be happy about it.
Aomine
x.
As soon as Aomine arrives at the living room, his mom bombards him with hugs and kisses while his father gives him a small, solemn pat on the back (which definitely gives the teen the idea that something's wrong; normally his father would simply grunt at the acknowledgement of his presence, and his mother would only offer him a small maternal smile. It's like they're about to announce that he's grown breasts or had become pregnant, really.)
"...what's going on?" He manages to grumble—more like wheeze out from the organ-crushing hug his mother's giving him.
"Daiki," Mr. Aomine says, taking a seat and unfolding a newspaper and crossing his legs as if he doesn't care. The teen and his mom knows otherwise, though, cause most of the time the old man gives less than a flying fuck, and how his legs are bobbing up and down. The things he had done back before Aomine was born, when his father had handed him the position of the CEO for Blue Corporation. "Have you ever heard of the term, arrange marriage?"
Aomine freezes and swears he could feel himself blanching, with all the blood rushing away from his head.
His mom shrieks (being the exact opposite of his dad and him by personality, except for the appearance), staring at his face and then back to his father's, lifting an arm to point right directly at him. "Honey, Dai's turning pale, he's fainting, oh my god, someone get him water and, and—damn, I told you we should've told him earlier to at least get him mentally prepared, oh m—"
"Hun, calm down. You're the one who's about to faint, not Daiki. Sit here and take a deep breath," Mr. Aomine coaxes, more amused than worried, as he leads his wife to sit down on the leather couch. They both watch as their son opens his mouth, and then closes it, and then repeats the cycle for at least twenty times before he actually lets out a distressed sound (Aomine-style) and then runs away.
Taiga blocks the way up to his bedroom, and before Daiki could throw a punch at his butler to move him aside, the doorbell rings.
The teen then blanches for real, looking unnatural through his tanned skin — more so than when he woke up naked next to a fat woman in her thirties, trying to seduce him, or when he had grabbed the redhead's breast mistaking him for someone. Kagami finds himself worried.
Kise
x.
The teen blond sighs when he looks out the window, seeing another mansion slightly larger than theirs' but more old-fashioned. It's probably another girl they'd try to set him up with, Kise realises solemnly, simply wishing he'd just feign * sickness to keep him in bed. He looks through the glass separating the driver from the rest of the limousine, checking the time. 9:06. How nice.
Kuroko steps out of the front passenger seat to open the door for them, and him plus his parents flood out of the car, not without Ryouta's mother pinching Tetsuya's cheeks. The light blue haired man doesn't seem to mind, already used to the Kise's affections. He shuts the door behind them, sighing, and sighing heavier when Ryouta wraps his arms around his head. Sometimes, Kuroko likes to think how hopeless this family is.
Mr. Kise leads the way, a couple of steps in front of his wife, and he's the one to ring the doorbell. Ryouta huffs heavily when he catches up to his father, who pats his back in a way to tell him he should stand up straight. The teens does just that.
"It's a meeting, isn't it? Can we get over this quickly-ssu? Please?" Ryouta asks.
His mother takes her place beside her husband, flipping a couple of blonde strands over her shoulder, "Ryouta, dear, we can't just go over this quickly. It's a wedding, and you can't just skip on—"
"A what?!" Ryouta gapes, jaw looking like it's literally hanging of his head. Tetsuya, instead of sympathising, snickers quietly on the sidelines like the closet-sadistic bastard he is. "You mean you're bringing me into an arrange marriage without my consent?"
"Er . . ."
"Bye," the teen says hurriedly, walking hastily away from the door.
But just as his mother catches him by the collar, the door swings open, revealing a couple in their mid-fourties.
And behind them, a red-haired butler holding tightly on his master's collar, who also seemed to be running away. Master. A guy, a dude, a man, male. Similar to Kise . . . well, at least with the running away part. And the stubbornness. The butler could tell.
(Kuroko finds it all too amusing. He knows his master and his master's soon-to-be husband are just meant for each other.)
author's awesome notes: aokaga bromance is sexy. same goes for kikuro (they're more on the cute side, though).
this sounds lame. i tried (and obviously failed -sulks in a corner-). anyway, i've been so tired and down lately (anemia, fuck you) and i'm nearing the end of the school year so updates would most likely be slow, especially for restart—i'm sorry (not really. but ily). i need motivation ;w; if anyone could beta for me that would be smashing.
reviews, feedbacks, rates, favourites and follows are much more than appreciated o3o.