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royal-wisteria · 1 day ago

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I FUCKING LOVE THIS SO MUCH. 😍😆❤️🩷🧡💛💚💙🩵💜

Yall should check this out, it's going to be amazing.

Happy 4/20 from your friendly neighbourhood plug, Jounouchi

Lol I wrote the thing I talked about here. I'll work on it more another day but wanted to get something out for 4/20!

💨🍃

Jounouchi slapped the steering wheel. “C’mon, Baby Dragon! Don’t do me like this, girl.”

From the passenger seat, Honda sipped from a Big Gulp and deadpanned, “You said that exact same thing last week. And the week before that.”

Jounouchi threw his hands in the air. “Okay, well you’re a mechanic, aren’t you? Make yourself useful instead of sitting there.”

Honda sighed the sigh of a man who had been here before— frequently— and stepped out into the heat haze shimmering off the greenbelt road. “You wanna hear something wild? The last five Chrysler 300s I worked on were also owned by guys who thought they were gonna retire off Dogecoin and selling eighths out the backseat.”

Jounouchi popped the hood and peered into the engine bay, with its skein of wires and sensors. “Maybe it’s American innovation.”

“Bro, Chrysler hasn’t made a decent car since before our parents learned to drive,” Honda muttered, finicking with the engine, black-gleamed with oil. “You need something Japanese. A Toyota. A Suzuki. A Mazda. Something that doesn’t require international shipping and a blood sacrifice every time a part gives out. You don’t have the cash to keep propping this thing up… not that you’ve got a paycheck to begin with.”

“I have you,” Jounouchi grinned.

Honda groaned. “I never signed up to be your sugar daddy.”

“You? My sugar daddy?” Jounouchi’s tone was indignant. “I’m the only sugar daddy in this arrangement, with how much weed I front you. And maybe if you got me back with some discounts at the garage, we’d be singing a different tune right now.”

Honda stood upright and wiped grease off his fingers with a crumpled 7-Eleven sandwich wrapper. “Yeah, great idea, except I can’t pay for a custom-imported alternator in Bubba Kush.”

They stood there for a beat. The engine crackled, defeated. Somewhere in the grass, a cicada screamed like it owed someone money.

“I swear this part of town is cursed,” Jounouchi muttered. “Every time I’m in the greenbelt, Baby Dragon throws a tantrum.”

Honda gave him a long, exhausted look. “Your car breaks down everywhere, man.”

“She’s sensitive!” Jounouchi lit a cigarette with unnecessary drama and leaned on the fender. “This spot’s got bad aura. Can’t you feel it?”

“That’s just the invisible fence keeping bums like you from crossing into the tax bracket over there.”

Jounouchi laughed and slung an arm around Honda’s shoulders. “You mean bums like us.”

Honda shook him off with a grunt. “Are you even sure we’re going the right way?”

Jounouchi rolled his eyes and pulled out his ancient Danger Hiptop. The plastic hinge creaked as he flipped it open. “I’m sure. Look, I even got the address plugged in.”

Honda stared. “How is that phone still working in the year of our Lord 2025?”

“You’re mouthing off about Japanese engineering and you’ve gone through, what, nine iPhones? Don’t talk shit about my Sidekick. She’s got heart,” Jou said, proud. “Unlike your soulless, cold-ass iPhone 37 or whatever.”

“Yeah, well, your soulful phone just took five minutes to load a JPEG.”

Jounouchi held the screen up. “Delivery – 17:30 – Rando new client.” A single map dot blinked near the edge of the Domino greenbelt, pressed right up against the first row of mansion. Honda squinted.

“And who are we delivering to?”

“No clue,” Jounouchi shrugged. “I saved the number as Rando. I’m just following the GPS. And the promise of cold hard cash.”

Honda gave him a pointed look.

“I’m not hauling my ass into a mansion for some pickup named Rando,” Honda said flatly, slamming the hood closed.

“We’ll just park on the curb! Play it cool! In and out.”

“You say that,” Honda said, already getting back in the car, “and every single time it turns into a Fast & Furious side quest.”

“Yeah,” Jounouchi said, grinning wide as he joined Honda back in the car. “But if I’m Dom, that makes you Brian. And Baby Dragon’s about to fly.”

Baby Dragon sputtered once, twice, as if she had heard them. Then, miraculously, she roared to life.

Honda clutched his drink and stared forward, bracing against the dashboard. “This piece of shit car is gonna be the death of me.”

Jounouchi patted the dash affectionately. “You know she can hear you, right? Keep talking shit and she might actually do it.”

Honda gave him a look. “No, dude. You’re just high.”

“Not high enough,” Jounouchi muttered, rubbing his temple.

Honda cracked the window. “Alright then. Let’s hit the blunt.”

They lit up as Baby Dragon creaked her way back onto the roadway, the AC barely holding its own against the balmy heat of summer. Honda adjusted the vents while Jounouchi took a long drag, exhaling out the window.

They drove in silence for a few minutes, until: just ahead, a sleek black town car sitting at a crooked angle on the shoulder, its hazard lights blinking slow and pitiful. Jounouchi slowed down and pointed with two fingers still pinched around the cherry.

“See? SEE? Not just me! I told you this strip’s cursed!”

Honda squinted, unconvinced. “That’s a luxury sedan with thirty grand in upgrades. Not a Chrysler 300 with a death wish… Pull over, I wanna see what’s up.”

Jounouchi coasted Baby Dragon onto the breakdown lane, tires groaning loudly as they passed over the graded asphalt before the road margin. The car wheezed before coming to a stop. Jounouchi looked at Honda before stubbing out the blunt and emerging into the heat. The town car’s driver door swung open, and out stepped a man in a sharply tailored black suit, somehow completely unperturbed by the sweltering summer day.

“Ohhhh shit,” Jounouchi murmured. “That’s… what’s-his-name.” He looked at Honda as if the boy would prompt his memory, but his friend simply arched an eyebrow in return. “I recognize him, dude. From Battle City and shit. He works for Kaiba.”

The man turned at that—slowly, like he’d heard something disappointing but predictable—and faced them with arms folded.

“Isono,” he said, voice clipped. “And yes. We’ve met. Several times.”

Jounouchi snapped his fingers. “Right! Right. You’re like his—what—personal assistant or whatever, right?”

“No,” Isono said flatly. “I’m his Chief of Staff.”

Honda stepped forward, subtly throwing a hand out to keep Jounouchi from digging himself a deeper hole. “Yeah, sorry about him— he’s just… like that. Engine light's been on with him for years, you know what I mean? You can pretty much ignore whatever comes out of his mouth.”

“HEY!”

“I’m a mechanic,” Honda continued, unbothered. “What happened with the car?”

Isono gave Honda a once-over, as if reassessing the situation and determining there might be one functioning brain among the two of them. He gestured back toward the vehicle, his voice dry.

“It stalled. Out of nowhere. No dashboard warnings. No engine lights. It just… died.”

Honda nodded sagely, the language of the dead vehicle familiar. “Mind if I take a look?”

Isono stepped aside in invitation. Honda popped the bonnet and a plume of smoke emerged before he peered more closely. He made a sympathetic tch sound. “Yeah… okay. Alternator’s cooked. This thing’s not going anywhere without a tow. Might be your serpentine belt too.”

Jounouchi, meanwhile, was tapping at his Danger Hiptop with a look of rising concern. It buzzed again.

[17:38] Rando: where are you???

[17:39] Rando: you said 5:30

[17:39] Rando: are you even coming??

Jounouchi winced. “Yo, Honda, phone’s blowing up. We gotta bounce. How’s it looking over there? ”

“This guy’s whole system’s cooked,” he said. “I think we’ve got the parts back at the garage— I’m gonna call it in. We can tow it now and maybe have it running again by tonight.”

He walked over, lowering his voice. “Bro. What are you doing?”

Honda tilted his head, unbothered. “Working.”

“We are in the middle of something.”

“You’re in the middle of maybe going to someone’s house to get murdered,” Honda said, pulling out his phone. “I’m in the middle of getting paid.”

Jounouchi groaned and rubbed his face with both hands. “We’re supposed to be a team.”

“I thought you were tired of playing sugar daddy?” Honda joked, rubbing his thumb against his fingers: cash. “Let me pull my weight”

Jounouchi made a face, already pulling out his keys. “Alright, alright. I’ll grab you on the way back if you’re still stuck out here. Or swing by Otogi’s later?”

“Yeah,” Honda said, already dialling the auto shop. “Text me when you’re done. I’ll let you know what’s up.”

Jounouchi threw him a lazy salute, climbed back into Baby Dragon, its whole frame groaning before he eased the door shut. The ignition sputtered for a while before— THUNK — the engine rolled over, and he pulled back onto the freelane and put some distance between him the Isono and Honda before sparking the blunt again. He took a long pull, the smoke curling around his head as he gained speed.

“Guess I’m doing this one solo,” he muttered to himself, joint glowing at the edge of his grin. He tapped the dash. “Let’s go get that paper, girl.”

He cruised a while, Baby Dragon rumbling up the gentle incline out of the forested greenbelt and into the mansion district. His window was down, elbow resting casual on the frame, joint lazily between his fingers. He reached for the centre console and fished out a half baggie for his mystery client— the good shit. On the front, in sparkly holo-foil, it read: LOUD. LEGENDARY. LOCALLY SOURCED. Below that: his phone number scrawled in silver sharpie. And all over the bag: little blissed-out Scapegoats, half-crossed eyes, tongues lolling: one of them was riding a cloud. Another was giving a peace sign. One was most certainly twerking.

He was feeling loose, mellow mind broad and bright as sky. Everything felt good until… the fuck?

“…Wait a damn second.”

He blinked at the GPS, then at the road. Then back at the massive, wrought-iron gates ahead of him. Then up. And up. And up.

“No. Fuckin’. Way.”

The Kaiba mansion loomed in the near distance. Resplendent marble fountains. Security cameras. Topiary trees and subshrubs trimmed to resemble dragons and birds of prey. And Mokuba, stepping out from the gates with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

“Took you long enough.”

Jounouchi stared. “OH HELL NO.”

Mokuba rolled his eyes and unlocked the gate with a remote. “C’mon dude, you’re late as it is. My friends are gonna be here any minute.”

“Fuck this,” Jounouchi declared, shifting the gears and starting to turn the steering wheel to jet outta here. “I’m plenty stupid but I’m not about to catch a charge for dealing to a kid.”

“I’m not a kid!” Mokuba snapped. “I’m fifteen!”

“Exactly!” Jounouchi shouted, gesturing wildly out the window. “A kid! And I am not about to end up in court with your brother staring down the judge, demanding the death penalty ‘cause I got his little brother high.”

Mokuba narrowed his eyes. “If you don’t give me this weed, Jounouchi, I’m calling the cops right now. I’m so serious.”

A disbelieving beat. “You wouldn’t.”

“I’m serious,” Mokuba said, pulling his phone out of his hoodie pocket, already flipping to the keypad. “I will call Domino PD this second. I will give them your name, your license plate, and a very compelling sob story about how you pressured me into drug use because I’m lonely and vulnerable.”

There was a long, horrified beat.

“You’re psycho,” Jounouchi breathed.

Mokuba grinned, all teeth. “And a paying customer! So cough it up.” He pulled a wad of perfectly crisp bills from his hoodie pocket and handed them over to Jounouchi as if tipping a valet. “Actually,” Mokuba added, “you’re gonna give me a full ounce. For wasting my time.”

Jounouchi clutched the steering wheel and stared ahead. He felt impossibly high, or perhaps he was simply disassociating. “How the fuck am I getting shaken down by a kid in socks and slides right now?”

Mokuba winked. “Welcome to KaibaCorp.”

Just then, a gravelly voice from up the driveway.

“Is that Isono?”

Jounouchi froze. Mokuba’s face morphed into pure innocence, even as he reached through the window, hand open. Give me the weed now. “Nope!” Mokuba called back to his brother, cheerily. “It’s just Jounouchi.” Mokuba made a beckoning motion at him. Hurry up! Jounouchi, irritated now, handed Mokuba’s two halves— un-fucking-believable— and the boy let his guileless expression slip to favour a sharkish grin, directed right at him. Nightmare fuel.

Kaiba eventually came into view: crisp as ever in loafers and a black leather blazer, steel briefcase in hand. He stopped mid-step when he saw Jounouchi, and took another moment to look at Baby Dragon, as though the car itself had insulted him. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh. Uh.” Jounouchi coughed out of awkwardness, but it sounded a bit phlegmy from the joint. “Hey Kaiba. I… I just ran into Isono. His car broke down.”

Kaiba frowned. “He was supposed to be here an hour ago.”

“He, uh… should be getting towed right about now,” Jounouchi offered, hoping that made things better.

Mokuba jumped in fast. “Yeah, Jounouchi was just saying he wanted to give you a ride to KaibaCorp, nii-sama.” And there it was: another feral, evil fucking grin. “Out of the goodness of his heart.” This fucking kid—!

Jounouchi’s mouth fell open. “Wait, what—”

Kaiba ignored him. “Are your friends still coming over?”

“Yup,” Mokuba said brightly. “We’re probably gonna play some Madden, maybe Overwatch, swim in the pool, order pizza. Just chill.”

Kaiba nodded slowly. “Alright. I shouldn’t be home too late.” Kaiba was already pulling the passenger door open like he was inspecting a garbage disposal. The door let out a low groan. The fuzzy dice Jounouchi kept on his rearview swung wildly. “Let’s just get this over with. Do you even know where you’re going?”

Jounouchi bristled. “Yeah, we all know where KaibaCorp is, asshole. You made sure of that when you built the tallest fucking building in the city and slapped your name on it.”

Mokuba, still leaning against the gate and smiling wide with his secret, gave a cheery wave. “Drive safe, you two! Let me know when you’re headed home, nii-sama. And thanks for the favour, Jounouchi!”

Jounouchi put the car in reverse, staring at Mokuba through the windshield as the boy bounded back into the mansion. This kid is so evil, he thought, backing down the long, winding driveway.

Kaiba sat rigid in the passenger seat, briefcase tucked neatly between his knees like he didn’t want it to touch anything. He didn’t speak. Neither did Jounouchi. This silence persisted as they pulled onto the main artery, reaching through the woody greenbelt and back into Domino. The drove for some time— past where Jounouchi and Honda had happened on Isono, both men now gone as if they had never been there. Baby Dragon fared well, even as she juddered over a sudden pothole, fuzzy rearview dice bouncing wildly.

Kaiba shot him a glare. “Who on earth taught you how to drive?”

“Your mom,” Jounouchi snapped, hands tightening on the wheel.

Kaiba didn’t miss a beat. “A dead woman? Makes sense.”

Jounouchi exhaled hard through his nose. Fuck. He reached up and rubbed the bridge of it, a headache crawling behind his eyes. “Look, Kaiba, I’m sorry—”

“We’ll be joining her soon if you don’t keep your eyes on the road.”

Jounouchi bit his tongue, awkward now, shame curdling somewhere in his chest. Kaiba, of course, looked completely unbothered, looking out the window. He slowed a bit, trying to be more mindful of his driving, coaxing them clumsily into a winding curve that led into the off ramp to get them through the suburbs right at the downtown boundary.

More nitpicking from Kaiba: “You always brake this hard?”

Jounouchi snorted. “You know, you’re welcome to walk.”

“Trust me, I’m considering it.”

For a minute, there was peace. The only sound was the strained hum of the engine and the occasional bounce of the fuzzy dice swaying from the mirror. But then Kaiba turned slightly, brows low and sniffed. Slowly. Deliberately.

“…What’s that smell?”

Jounouchi froze. The blunt, stubbed out under the seat, still glowed faintly.

He gripped the wheel and didn’t blink.

“Oh. Uh. Pine tree air freshener?”

Kaiba gave him a long, skeptical look. “Whatever that smell is,” he said, “fresh is the last word I’d use to describe it.”