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dropsofletters · 3 years

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though you weren’t mine [kmg]

—summary: new in town, with judgement following after every step she takes in life, the least she expects is to find a box filled with cd’s that reads ‘throw away’ written in messy handwriting on its cardboard surface. when looking at the videos, she realizes there is a highlight to her day—as if he was part of a sitcom, and his name is kim mingyu.

the downside? she doesn’t know where to find him. once existing in the same house as hers, no one knows where he went, but his smile remains petrified inside her head.

—title: though you weren’t mine —pairing: kim mingyu x reader —genre: photographer!au ; musical actress!au ; strangers to friends to lovers!au ; videocamera!au —type: fluff ; angst ; suggestive ; romance ; drama ; humor ; slowburn —word count: 25,891 —warnings: mentions of alcohol, death (though briefly), and past relationships.

Three onions. One head of garlic. Lettuce, clinging to the space in between his teeth and still, her seat companion in the train doesn’t close his mouth for the slightest bit.

As far as she knows—and it has been two hours of conversing with this man, so she’s knowledgeable enough to speak—, he worked in refineries. A little bit over seventy, with a white chemise cladding his body, tucked inside a pair of beige pants. The rounded glasses on the bridge of his nose keep falling, but he keeps playing with them as he speaks about the most miniscule of matters. For one, in 1997, his wife left him for his best friend, and secondly, his youngest is starting to look more like his (please, say ex) best friend with the passage of time.

Now, she is not a DNA expert, neither is she a fortune teller to be able to foresee the future when she got in this train, against her will, only to fulfill her biggest dream.

The city awaits her entrance, and when she gets there, she hopes to take a big bite of the world, mix dance and singing, along with acting, in order to further emphasize her spot in the industry. Break the malicious curse that follows everyone in her blood, only destroying their careers under the weight of their actions.

“And, you know what she did?” Licking the mayonnaise off his thumb after taking a big bite of his sandwich, the older male continues with his story as she lulls her head against the window. For one second, her eyes divert towards the pink clouds accompanied by lilac skies. Trees swing with the harsh wind, three days-worth of spending her time with Jinho over here sounding like the worst of experiences. “My daughter told me she doesn’t want to college after all. Can you imagine that? I paid for her education in four different majors, and she dropped out of all of them…because she wants to be, and hear me out,” As if she hasn’t been doing that for the entirety of the train ride. “A YouTuber.”

“Oh no.” Acting is her forte. Fake crying without a single droplet of water thrown at her face. Elongating words. Dramatics. All of the like—it’s what theater means, but at this point, her tiredness trails after her sentence. “Yeah, all that money…gone to waste…sir, that’s terrible.”

Just as terrible as the way he is eating this sandwich.

Smacking his lips once again, the man shakes his head. “What was your name again?” He asks, for the umpteenth time, and she lets her lips wrap around her name. She may change at this point, something easier, just so this man stops talking about himself and starts to be a proper companion instead. “Yeah, always be sure of what you’re going to do. There are millions of people you can disappoint, and they will tell you they will support you through everything and anything, but it’s a lie.”

“Ah-ha.” She drags, trying her hardest not to scrunch up her face. Instead, she rummages through the pocket of her black coat, looking for the perfect distraction that is her phone. “I think someone is calling me, Mr. Jinho, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Yes, yes!” The old man speaks quickly, taking the last bite of his sandwich only to speak with his mouth full after. “I hope it’s good news!”

After moving his legs from the side, she makes a bee-line towards the bathroom. Brown leather seats on each side of her, with people talking normally, softly, and yet, seemingly happier than her with her train ride. Her friends insisted on this—something of the like of ‘humbleness’ in their whole speech when giving her the train tickets that would take her to her newest pursue in life. Away from her well-known family, and the judgement that weights her down even when she opens the door to the bathroom and closes it behind her.

An unpleasant whiff of air has her sighing deeply. Great. The white tiled walls and sunflowers decorations do nothing to make her feel less like an outcast in this train. Though, she needs to sit down and look through her phone for a while, perhaps pee before getting out of there, and hoping that Jinho’s sandwich did its job in getting him to sleep. Her feet steps forward, putting down the toilet seat in hopes of not even seeing anything inside to compare to the smell in here, before taking a seat on top of the toilet.

Fuck my life, she thinks.

One day you’re at the top of the world, the next, you’re seated on top of a toilet with suspicious contents. Life, some call it.

As if the afternoon couldn’t get any worse, she unlocks her phone, a series of messages from her best friend appearing on the screen. God, she misses her. Leaving her best friend behind while having a medical emergency is one of the choices, she thinks she will never forgive herself for making. What kind of friend does that? She has no idea. Yet, Miyoung practically shouted at her to go follow that dream. The musical’s rehearsals started this month, and she couldn’t miss the opportunity of finally reaching proper stardom. Not word from mouth, but with actions instead.

Earlier, she had asked:

To: Miyoung.

How’s your foot doing?

Though, probably napping, it took Miyoung four hours to answer.

From: Miyoung.

Still connected to my leg, so far, so good.

But…haven’t you seen the news?

News? No. Well, if she’s not counting Jinho’s romantic history—and family timeline, at that—since 1991.

If the child isn’t really his…why would he be telling some stranger in the train?

To: Miyoung.

I was supposed to know any news?

From: Miyoung.

OMG.

Enter my account. Check your ex’s Instagram.

And tell me where we’re hiding the body.

Miyoung, God bless her, is the purest figure skater she knows. The woman follows everyone in social media without caring if they stepped on her heart with all her might, or did something to her friends. Her ex-boyfriend, a very famous comedian, is not the exception. While she had hit headlines for unfollowing him on social media—and vice-versa—, Miyoung does wonders on keeping her updated. Two weeks it has been since their break up, and she has never been readier to move on.

Though, upon opening his social media, she’s welcomed by the usual—parted black hair, curved eyebrows, downturned and bored eyes, with slim lips and a tall frame that bends against its will forward, his stance normally accompanied by baggy, stylish clothes that more often than not rake the smell of alcohol and weed. On this occasion, however, someone else clings by his side and the man does not have the utmost decency to make the picture a little bit less like it belongs to some raunchy college student’s Instagram profile.

His big hand, that linked with hers, and touched her skin in promises of forever, splays on top of the woman’s butt. Gorgeous in more ways than one, with long curled hair and a smile on her lips as he kisses her cheek. The worst part? That she dated someone who captioned this picture, with God-knows-what-kind-of-model, in the worst of ways.

Her stomach churns when she reads: “Here with the main bitch.”

Ugh. Delete all the kisses. Erase all the memories of ever sleeping with him. Create a time-machine so she can slap herself across the face and tell herself ‘he’s not even that funny, wake the hell up’.

To: Miyoung.

Ew.

From: Miyoung.

You don’t care?

To: Miyoung.

Of course, I care.

I kissed that.

I made out with that.

I let that fuck me.

From: Miyoung.

Sid-looking ass.

Fuck him.

All those times Miyoung told her not to date him, and there she was, making a fool of herself.

To: Miyoung.

We don’t judge people by their appearance here.

But he’s trash.

From: Miyoung.

Two weeks, girl.

It took him two effing weeks to get over you.

It shouldn’t hurt, right? Though, her heart contracts a little at the touch of disappointment. Never had she trusted someone as much as she did with her ex, and there she is. Forgotten. Mocked. Poked fun at.

The second bitch.

The ‘no-one-cares’ bitch.

Fuck.

To: Miyoung.

I’ll get over him too, just watch.

From: Miyoung.

Oh, babe, I know.

And you’re on your way to it.

With certainty, even in this goddamned train, with a smelly bathroom and a talkative seat companion, she can do it. Reach her dream. Get a name. Never need a man ever again.

Everything is going to be fine. It always is for her, and this won’t be the exception.

###

Everything is not fine.

Brick walls clad the building in front of her. Tall enough for it to even be considered a skyscraper, creating shadows across her body. The world is much bigger than hers, and yet, sometimes she thinks she is the center of it all. A white screen with black lines showcases the name of one of the newest musicals to be performed tonight at nine, but she can only imagine how her debut in the musical world will look like on her first night. Twinkling lights from the night falling in love with the title of her play—When The Kids Fall Asleep.

When she read the script, she was actually aiming to find some small spot in a TV series, waving in the back or saying three lines. Instead, she came across this piece of magic because of her manager, whom was once her mother’s manager. The story read almost like a book, the demos filling her ears when she asked for a demonstration for her audition, the story of four families that conjoined when trying to reach their dreams without telling the children about the hardships of the real world. For them, everything must be perfect.

Her character, she had fallen in love with. Poor yet leader-like through everything, trying to raise a three-year-old without making her miss a single meal. When she falls asleep, she has to live off earning money by selling meals and, continuously, finding it harder to feed her little family and working as a stripper.

Doing justice to such a role may erase the mistakes lingering in her past.

With a push of the door, the cold metal handle meeting her fingertips, a new world is introduced to her. Rows and rows of burgundy seats, all staring towards the not-so-empty stage. People scatter around, some extending their limbs, others taking sips of water, but the swish of the door closing behind her catches some people’s attention.

The director is someone she knows. The strands of her bleached blonde hair are pushed behind her ears, tightened by a hair-tie to keep it in place. A tall nose, plush lips, and a set of thick glasses meet her enigmatic, yet serious face. A black turtleneck covers most of her body, long limbs and stylized slender body making her look more like a model than a director. Practically glued to her chest is the printed version of the script, and the closer she gets, the more the golden lights scatter across Kaleigh’s body.

“Look at that, if that isn’t our fashionably late rock-star.” The chuckle that rips through Kaleigh’s lips fakes every single emotion that could be mustered in this situation. A sharp breath in makes her curse herself internally. Well, she’s definitely not used to having to take the subway…and definitely not use to people not waking her up. Her manager is there for that, but now he’s too far away from her to actually work as a babysitter, as well.

“Sorry,” She breathes out, hands threading with the straps of her hoodie before smiling softly. “I…I didn’t know how to catch the subway.”

“Are you kidding me?” Kaleigh asks, mocking tone in her voice ever-present, clapping her hands together as if watching the most ridiculous of comedies. “Your family isn’t famous enough for you to act as if you’re out and about in limousines.”

Truthfully, yes. A family of rock-stars, like her mother, that happened to leave the band in search of a better chance, only for her first solo album to fail in the charts. Of models that never went past the runways. Of singers that remained as one-hit-wonders and producers that never got to have names remembered in the world of music. It’s always a peak and then a downfall for her family’s curse.

…But, she does have enough money not to worry for the rest of her life, so there is something good about being criticized throughout her entire life for the family she grew up in. “Well…no, but I’m used to people driving me around. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

Upon sparing one glance towards the stage, Kaleigh must understand that she wants this conversation to be over. “Whatever,” She instructs, deep voice lingering with tiredness. “This is your team. You can get to know them as you practice. This is the first time the entire cast is together.”

Her eyes scan towards the groups of people, all of which she had studied from the printed version of the script she read when Jinho had finally fallen asleep on the train. Thank God, she almost thought that man was going to get off the train with her and follow her around. One of the male leads, she recognizes as Jaehyo, tall and over his thirties, short brown hair accompanying widened eyes, almost deep-looking. A vibrato to die for, as she saw per his audition.

“You’re Jaehyo, right?”

The man looks up from his script, a crooked smile appearing on his features that perhaps, gives him the attractiveness of that one friend’s young dad that she would look at when she was a child, unaware of why her cheeks would heat up at the mere sight of him. “You know me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Going up the set of stairs, she looks around the room once again. Small woman, black short hair, a rounded face with speckles of brown across her cheeks, matching her orange blush. The best dancer of the team, definitely. “And that’s Sue. She plays Joah’s character.” Of course, how could she not? Joah is one of the background characters, but thrilling in its own way. The owner of the strip-club, and the one that takes care of the children in the house of the four families, trying to paint a perfect picture of broken shreds. “And you are—”

Upon pointing at the woman seated by the edge of stage, the light wood carving against her uncovered, toned thighs, she hears Hyun’s sharp tone. The main star, the oldest child—twenty-one, that figures out that her mother is a stripper and goes on a rampant of wanting to take over the same steps. She’s a triple threat, that’s for sure—singing like a goddess, dancing like she belongs to the stage, and acting like she lived through the same experience.

“Are you over with your little Wikipedia search revising speech?” Hyun says, moving her long brown hair away from her shoulders to look at her with sharp almond eyes, her plush lips pursed, though still beautiful with the blaring anger inside her casting over her features. “You’re late. We don’t have time for you to play the fangirl character.”

Hyun stands up at the same moment that she shares her anger with everyone else in the stage. Jaehyo, on one hand, is the one to speak up first. “Hey, we weren’t even waiting for that long—”

“So, just because she has money, we have to excuse her diva behavior?” Running her hands over her gray shorts, Hyun gets in position, staring at Kaleigh.

“Look who’s talking.” She spits out, looking up and down at the woman that she had once thought was the best addition to the team, now seems to be up and against her, ready to blare Achilles’ cholera all the way towards her. “The only one making a fuss over me being twenty minutes late here is you—”

“Because my time is valuable, unlike what you think.” Hyun responds just as she gets close, sparing one glance towards Kaleigh. “Right? I’m the main lead. If I can get here early, so can you.”

“Shit, sorry.” She whispers, a frown appearing on her features. “I’ll make sure to get here two hours earlier because your character is so much more important than mine.”

“Well,” Kaleigh interrupts at that moment, hooking her fingers around one of her dangling diamond earrings. “It’s not wrong. Hyun is our star. If she gets here on time, so can you.”

Lowering her head just at the same time that a smile appears on Hyun’s face, she sighs. “It won’t happen again, I promise. I’m sorry.”

Her dream scatters right in front of her, both from her wrongdoings and for the way that Kaleigh looks at her up and down, before nodding. “Doesn’t matter. We can work on various things as you’re here. You have a lot to improve.” Kaleigh answers, a smile reaching her cheekbones. “For now, just stand in the back and watch the professionals do so.” Her hand extends towards Hyun, exclaiming her utmost ambition and hope for her presence in this play.

“For every scene?”

“Yes. You can dance in the back.” Kaleigh finalizes with a tilt of her head. “Ah…does that bother you?”

“Well, if I’m in the back for every scene, I won’t be able to deliver my lines properly—”

“Honey, here’s how this works—” Kaleigh starts, extending one leg in front of her before playing with the edge of her script. Never does she break eye-contact, even when she is stepping on her heart. “You are new, but you aren’t new to the public. You’ve dated a few good names, appeared on magazines since you were a child…and you’re kind of good, but we’re aiming for publicity here. If you’re here with us, we make this play more profitable and, hence, we can continue displaying it for however long they let us. And, with the passage of time, you can step forward and be looked at more…but you’re not as good as the rest, as easy as that.”

Then, why did she get accepted? Once again, the light of her family’s curse casts down on her, creates shadows on the kind of person she can be. Just when her lips are about to part, trying to shelter her pride with the utmost knowledge of how this industry works, Kaleigh claps her hands together.

“In your spots. First scene. The kids are waiting behind the stage, I need you to deliver those lines as if you’re in the verge of hunger. And you better be, we’ll be here the entire day.”

It’s not like how she imagined it to be. So far in the stage that she can’t even see the seats, the light casting down on Hyun even when she is not in the scene. Her voice dulls, every line coming out of her lips with less enthusiasm as the practice passes by. Just a publicity stunt, that’s why she was accepted. Tears weld up in her vision, and they are not exactly her character’s…but now she is here, and she has to make do with her dream.

###

There’s one point of a person’s lives where they can no longer see their friends as much as they hope to. Life gets busy, some create families, others hunt for their biggest professional goals, and then, she’s left in solitude, carrying the boxes that were left outside of her new house by the moving truck. Spacious, perfect for two to three people, and yet only there for her to live in. Somewhere in a suburbs-like spot, with plenty of families staring at her as a groan leaves her lips upon the lumbar ache on her back. Whatever. If normal people can do it, so can she.

The trees on her front yard move with the wind, same as her hair, trying her best to go up the set of white stairs that lead to her gray doorstep, the ‘welcome’ rug in front making her feel less like this is her home. Her friends and family are not here, and the friends that she has here are too busy with their own lives to help her unpack as much as possible. Along with that, she has to go over her lines and avoid delivery in order to use the kitchen as much as possible.

When she drops the last box on the living room, the gray tiles and the white doors giving an elegant vibe in contrast to the cardboard, her hands rest on her waist. The only thing she has managed to do after getting home from practice three days ago was construct some shelves for her TV, and put a bed in the bedroom to sleep in, but other than that, the house is empty. The couch welcomes her weight when she throws herself over it.

Okay. It could be worse. She has a ceiling over her head.

…And a mattress, a kitchen, a TV and a shelf.

But she has worn the same clothes at home for the past four days.

Lifting the white sweater up to her nose, she sniffles deeply. Clean, apparently, but that’s something she has to deal with as well—laundry as soon as possible, because of her amount of outfit changes during practice. Her eyes close tightly, as if she would be able to ease the headache appearing inside her head in the matter of seconds, but when she opens them again, she’s welcomed by the same white shelf she constructed, and the little wood shelf by its side that came with the house.

Though, it’s more like a cabinet, there’s a door to it, and it’s not locked, swinging back and forth with a squeak. Maybe, she should get rid of that before actually starting. Standing up again, each muscle hurting from endless hours of practicing and now for carrying around seven boxes inside her house, her slippers clank against the flooring until she kneels in front of the cabinet, opening the door and sighing out of glee of not having to hear the movement of the wind against it.

A box is inside, the words ‘throw away’ written in capitals and blue marker ink. Better follow what the owners wanted, it could be some haunted doll that she has to get out before it eats her alive at night. Though, just as she lifts the box in between her hands, ready to throw it away or recycle it, the bottom portion opens, letting a bunch of CD’s fall on her feet.

Ouch, but also, huh?

Is this the old owner’s porn stack?

She should just throw them away, but when her fingers wrap around the CD’s, she reads the titles written in the same blue ink. Anniversary. Date. Bed. New York.

Ooh, bed sounds kinky…

Is it an amateur sex tape?

Better check it before she throws it away and people look through it, right?

Thankfully, numbers are scattered across the CD’s, small enough for her to almost ignore them, but upon grabbing her laptop from the coffee table, she slides the CD in. All in order, she starts with number one.

Maybe, a sex tape would be better…it wouldn’t have captured her heart quite like this.

###

01: NEW YORK.

“Ah, Kim Mingyu, don’t leave me behind like that!”

Groups of people scatter in front of the recorder. Tall buildings, in colors from grays, blacks, whites to browns, read out the typicality of New York, as per the title. Bustling, with barely any space from one person to the other, like lovers marching on their way to success. The person with the camera lets it shake a few times with her steps, the tone sweet and melodious as she calls out the same name again. Kim Mingyu. Kim Mingyu. Babe.

Definitely her boyfriend.

Upon reaching a wide back with a navy-blue thick coat thrown over it, the person with the camera expands her free hand on his back, sharp breaths leaving her lips, trying to regain her composure. She moves over to the side, finally showing the face of the culprit of her distress. A car passes by so fast that it swooshes his hair, the brown strands moving away to showcase his gorgeous golden skin. Not only is that gorgeous about him, but the fold of his romantic eyes, one squinted as he holds a camera up his face, taking a few pictures of the Times Square, accompanied by his defined nostrils, straight nose and dried, thin lips that he licks in the matter of seconds before looking over towards his girlfriend.

God has favorites.

“Log number one of the lives of Mingyu and Yoona. We are out here in New York to celebrate our second anniversary, isn’t that right, Mingyu?” Her voice is dulcet enough to compete against popsicles and candy. Mingyu seems to sense that, a twinkle in his eyes when looking down at the person recording him.

But he’s a camera person, she can tell that much. When he turns towards the camera, he extends his arms as wide as possible. “We’re here to celebrate two years of me standing Yoona and not dying in the process.”

Yoona slaps him in the arm for that comment, laughter ripping from his lips. “No, say why we’re really here.”

Mingyu looks around for a second, grabbing her hand before dragging her along through the busy streets. “I’ve always wanted to come to New York, so I thought that coming with you would be the best way to experience it.”

“And why are we recording us?”

“…Because I plan to audition for Hollywood so we can be like Brad and Angelina.”

“…They divorced, Mingyu.”

“They didn’t.” Mingyu replies, though he is clearly in the wrong. “Why would they—?”

“Because people get divorced, Mingyu.” Yoona reasons, far more knowledgeable than her boyfriend. “But be honest, why are we recording ourselves?”

At last, he looks away, the timer of the video growing smaller and smaller as he stares ahead. Slowly, a smile takes over his features, filling his cheeks when he says: “This is log one of the videos we’re going to show our children once we become a family in the far future.”

“Or not so far.”

Staring into the camera, Mingyu shrugs. “You never know.”

And that’s how it ends. With that precious smile of his giving hope to those who don’t believe in love, for it’s clear that he’s in love with whoever is recording him.

###

02: BED.

The door of what is now her bedroom opens up in the video, the same recorder not knowing how to keep the camera upright as she moves toward the spacious bed. Her knees hit the bed, stealing a huff away from the man thrown on the bed as his hands come forward just as his body does, grabbing the culprit that interrupted his sleep by jumping on him.

“Morning, morning, birthday boy!” His face is much more swollen than in the last video, his dark hair tousled everywhere as his eyes squint, try to look at the camera before closing entirely, throwing himself back in the mattress with a sigh.

“I’ll go back to sleep.”

But, Yoona keeps pushing, resting her weight on top of Mingyu, showcasing the pictures of them splayed on their respective bedside tables, before patting her hand against his cheek. “Wake up, it’s April 6th.”

“I know that day it is…” His voice drags, pressing his cheek to the white, comfortable pillow that seems to include a dampened spot created by him.

“Okay, kids. You may watch this ten years from now or something, let’s hope your dad isn’t as grumpy in the mornings as he is right now.” Yoona instructs, jumping a bit on his abdomen only to watch him not relenting at all. “Your dad was born on April 6th, 1997—” Oh, same year that Jinho was left by his wife. What a coincidence. “Shall we sing happy birthday for him?”

The video ends with a smile appearing on Mingyu’s face the more the song goes on in that lulling voice, reaching upwards to steal a kiss from her only for the camera to cut short.

The guy’s charming, she’ll give him that.

###

07: DRUNK.

Mingyu’s flushed face seems a bit older, his hair pushed away from his face as he rests his forehead against the refrigerator. It’s not the same one in her kitchen right now, but the division is the same, so it’s technically still in this house. Only when Yoona comes close to him, stumbling a bit on her steps, does he look up, waving his hand at the camera, the sleeve of his white and red sweater coming down his hand.

“Min…gyu…” Yoona has trouble forming coherent sentences, though Mingyu’s smile is ever-present. Happiness bleeds through him when being with her. “Mingyu, dance for the camera. Make that money worth, baby.”

The man chuckles, lifting his hands in the air and swinging his hips from side to side comically, earning a few whistles, howls and cheers from some people, perhaps equally as drunken as him, only to end up getting close to the camera and saying, with his handsome features pressed up close to the device:

“I wanna throw up.”

This video definitely has a smile plastering on her face. Funny.

###

10: ANNIVERSARY.

“Kim Mingyu, welcome to our log. We haven’t talked here for a while.”

Mingyu looks away from the scenery outside of the car, perhaps a taxi given by the position, moving the hood of his black sweater away from his head and fixing the sunglasses on his face to rest just at the tip of his nose to look at the camera. “You’re recording again?” Mingyu asks, though he is already waving at the camera and by the lack of response, she must have nodded at him.

“It’s October 13th, that means we have been together for three years.” Yoona starts, just at the same time that Mingyu grabs her hand, brings it up to his lips and presses a petal of a kiss to her knuckles. God, she should really stop watching this if she doesn’t want to feel lonelier. Why does she always pick the bad ones? Yoona has good tastes! “What are your thoughts on love, Mr. Kim?”

Mingyu leans his head back, though he looks at her from the corner of his eyes. “Stop calling me Mr. Kim.”

“Okay, go on Kim Mingyu.”

“It’s alright to just call me Mingyu.”

“I’m the one with the camera, shut it.”

Though, the man in question tries to find the right words, a goofy smile appearing on his features before extending his hands, as if further help himself explain. “Love is comfort? It’s what you expect, really. Ah…everyone thinks, at least once in their lives, that they are going to find someone and then, you just do.”

“Mingyu,” Yoona threatens, somewhat of a hiss to her tone. “What a bad answer.”

“It’s an answer!” He replies, widening his eyes and lifting his tone comically.

“And how did you know it was me?”

Mingyu pauses for a second, his lips joining together to give a tight-lipped smile before shrugging. “I just knew.”

###

13: RING.

“It’s recording.” A joyful voice, though belonging to a man, speaks from behind the camera before Mingyu lowers his weight to stand in front of the camera, taking off his black hoodie to wave.

“Hi,” Mingyu instructs, though the busy exterior must be getting him nervous, looking around before smiling sweetly. For one second, he looks like the modern version of a Prince. “I’m here today to buy Yoona an engagement ring. Seungkwan is recording me…and…yeah, I’ll just show you the process of me finding the perfect ring.”

Though, the man recording is more given to being on camera, turning it around and moving to Mingyu’s side so they are both in camera. His bright red hair and innocent features match his overexcited nature. “Welcome everyone. I’m here because my ring size is the same as Yoona’s. Mingyu and Yoona—”

Mingyu chuckles, hiding his hands behind his back before shaking his head. “This is not a broadcast, dude.”

“What do you know, Mingyu?”

The rest of the video displays memories of Seungkwan speaking into the camera and recording Mingyu as he picks the perfect ring. Rose gold with five diamonds, one that says costs him more than he even has and made him ask for money from all his group of friends.

Love has a meaning then.

###

14: I SAID YES.

This video is much shorter, though she can already recognize Seungkwan’s lively voice as he records the lovely couple. Yoona, with her bangs falling across her forehead, thin lips and big eyes stares up at Mingyu when she hugs him, his knees dusted because of his kneeling position in front of her. The ring dazzles against the light of the salon they all find themselves in—perhaps, some event, with pink balloons and golden decorations.

Mingyu, as happy as ever, wraps his arms around her waist, lowering his lips until they connect with hers. Not missing a bit, a smile appears over his features, as per usual with Yoona, but the woman only displays her ring to the camera.

“It’s finally happening!”

###

31: DELETE.

Yoona spends two good minutes talking about the wedding, the decorations, the elegance of her designer dress that she paid too much for. Definitely not in their ordinary room, the city twinkles darkly on the opened, spacious windows of the hotel they are staying in, the beige desk and the champagne curtains matching. Her hair is shorter, her voice different, fixing her eyelashes and her bangs as much as possible whenever she speaks.

Mingyu lowers his weight beside her, resting his cheek on her shoulder just as she is speaking, but she cuts herself off to look over her shoulder. “Mingyu…” Her voice lowers, taking his face in between her slim hands to look at his features. Ready for bed, he seems to be, dark bags surrounding his eyes and the figure of a shadow around his lips making Yoona shake her head. “You haven’t shaved and the wedding is tomorrow. What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

For someone’s whose language had been lively and lovely throughout the recordings, this surprises her. What happened to Yoona? Mingyu stares up at her, pushing his hair away from his face. “I’ll shave tomorrow,” His smile falls then, frowning up at her. “If I shave now, it’s not going to be perfect tomorrow.”

“You look disgusting with that rat on your face.”

“It isn’t even noticeable, come on.”

“Of course, it is!” Yoona complains, huffing when she leans back on her seat, bringing her knees up her chest as she has a stare-off with Mingyu. Before he could say anything, she interrupts him. “I don’t even know how I’m going to kiss you tomorrow with that thing—”

Mingyu stands up then, pointing at the camera as he snaps, getting away from the main screen. “It’s not like you do anything remotely nice anymore unless you’re recording us.”

Yoona looks over her shoulder, talking to Mingyu. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“The only moment you’re truly happy with me is when you’re talking to these nonexistent children of ours—”

“You said you wanted children, Mingyu.”

“…I do, but it’s—it’s not—to have children, you have to do more than just record the good parts of your relationship to show them just how perfect their parents were.”

Yoona scoffs, rolling her eyes while looking at the camera. “Well, I thought I had a perfect boyfriend, you see, but the more comfortable you get, the stupider you become.”

Mingyu stops on his tracks, moving over to the camera before placing one hand over it. Though, by the ministrations and the movement, Yoona seems to flick it off. “Turn that shit off.” He threatens, voice levelled, only to have her shaking her head. “Yoona, I said to turn that shit off. I’ve recorded every time you wanted, but it’s enough. We already—”

“Did I ask for your opinion, Mingyu?”

“I—”

“I didn’t ask, so keep it to yourself, okay?” The man actually listens, biting down on his bottom lip before rushing his hands through his hair a few times, grasping at his scalp one last time before moving over to the mattress. Yoona checks if he is around one more time before leaning her weight forward, resting her elbow on her desk. “Like I said, my dress is by Belle Epoque—”

Though, she can’t bring herself to watch any more of the last log, meant to be deleted.

###

In the middle of the night, lacking sleep yet raging insomnia like it is her job to blare thoughts inside her head as per musical notes, she figured out something. Nonsense is timeless, and staying in the far back of the stage, along with her companions, only to make Hyun shine the harshest is not what she imagined when moving out here. It’s not what she desired, and it’s not going to happen.

The instrumental of Jaehyo’s first solo runs through the empty stage, three hours earlier than Hyun could ever get to the practice room. The man gives a few steps forward, extending his arms on each side of his body as if to ask for instructions.

When calling her name, he adds: “I don’t know why we’re here.”

Though she pauses the instrumental, there is certainty in her voice, pushing her messy hair back, trying to unglue her eyelids that remain touched to the other because of her lack of sleep. One sip of caffeine should be enough for now. “It’s not fair that we’re getting pushed to the back when we have solos. Hyun shouldn’t be the main dancer of your solo.” She instructs, staring at Jaehyo’s surprised expression. “So, we’re preparing something else to show to Kaleigh.”

Jaehyo chuckles at her words, rubbing his hands against his face. “I don’t think she’s going to accept it.” He tells, letting go of his cheeks to add. “Hyun is, also, too much of a strict main for me to go against her just like that—”

“You’re thirty-five Jaehyo, grow up.” Her words come out harshly, days of standing Hyun’s verbal stabs catching up on her. Take for example Kim Mingyu, the God made Prince in the videos she watched. Gorgeous, elegant, somehow sweet, and yet, following through with a marriage that probably made him unhappy in the long run. She doesn’t have the time to lose the opportunity of shining. “…You’re excellent with choreography, and I can help with some of the vocals—”

“I think she’s right.” Sue says after slipping out from the back of the stage, the red curtains dragging over her body, much more energized than anyone in this room. “Hyun is the most talented of our team, but we are not Hyun and her little group of backup dancers. We are also characters.”

Nodding, she agrees. “Exactly.”

Jaehyo looks back towards Sue, then up again at one of the youngest of the team before rolling his finger in the air. “Okay, start the instrumental again. I think I can make up some new moves.”

Jaehyo’s body moves with precision, professionalism at its finest as he makes every step count into the road of heartbreak that his character finds himself to be in, driven by addiction, stopped by his reality. One arm forward, fingers curling with each word he says, notes hit at the same time that his lines are delivered. The talent in the room palpitates with what Kaleigh can’t see, a trio of people who would love to work with Hyun but end up down-casted by the light of her endless talents.

Hours pass by, and she is reminded why she started liking musicals on the first place. Seated on her grandmother’s lap, on the first row of Broadway musicals, staring at the dancers and the actors, the way a story could come to life with the three best versions of art. A nod of her head, a hum of her voice, a vibrato or two, a falsetto when she’s feeling brave…it all comes together with a version of When The Kids Go To Sleep that the world deserves to see.

Though, the middle of the morning hits with the entrance of another person. The doors open, closing harshly behind the culprit, interrupting the line that she is breathing into the air continued by elongated, quickened steps. When she stares ahead, past the rows of empty seats, she sees Hyun’s small face, her typical sport-like outfit cladding her immaculate body.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, newbie?” Hyun asks, not even conscious of her steps as she goes up the set of stairs and stands in front of her. The music comes to a halt thanks to Jaehyo, whom rushes down the stage with a jump and pauses the Bluetooth speakers, but she isn’t back down. Not with this bitch.

“Practicing, babe. What do you think I’m doing?”

“Ruining the musical, for example.” Her reply has her balling her fists. Not that she has ever been part of a physical fight—oh, but she has been close, and she thinks that if she can land a fake punch for a scene, a real one shouldn’t be that difficult. “…This part of the stage…” Hyun steps forward, tapping her shoes against the spot she was in, jutting her chest outwards to bring her back. “This is mine, and you have to earn this spot—”

“Stop it with the dramatics, God. We’re not in High School Musical, stop acting like a child.” She groans out, throwing her head back at Hyun’s antics.

“You say that because you’re just used to things going your way. So, the pretty little princess can’t get used to being shadowed for once.”

Sue takes this moment to step forward, placing her hands on both of their chests. “Hey, let’s stop this—”

“Fucking whatever celebrity passes by you didn’t work for you, and that’s your fault. Now, this is my dream, and you don’t get to ruin it because you feel like the attention is not on you for once.” Hyun continues speaking, lifting her voice with each moment that passes. Pushing Sue to the side, she gets closer to her, breaths mingling with the nonsense she is speaking into the air. What does she know about her past what the media says? Judgmental bitch.

“You don’t know me. Stop talking as if you do, bitch.”

“Oh, baby, a bitch?” Hyun asks, placing one hand on top of her chest before chuckling. “Ouch. What level of bitch? The usual, level one bitch or level ten, horny bitch like yourself?”

“Regret that.” She pushes, wrapping her fingers around Hyun’s shirt to bring her closer, only to watch the woman chuckle.

“What? You’re going to kiss me like you do with every little celebrity friend of yours?”

Fire bursts within her vision, not counting her breaths when her free hand comes forward and slaps the woman across from her straight on the cheek. Two steps back make her realize exactly what she did, Hyun’s smile faltering with the gasp that leaves her lips. Her chest heaves up and down, hand tingling and burning under the weight of her ministrations…but fuck, it felt good to shut her up for once.

The media has portrayed every mistake, blown it out of proportion, and made a mess out of her life. She was never judged as a normal person, but as the daughter of celebrities instead. It’s not fair for whatever the media portrayed to continue to follow her even when she’s trying to earn a name for yourself.

Sue exclaims at that moment. “Stop it, you two!” Resting one hand on Hyun’s shoulder, she helps her up only to have Hyun walking forward, ready to retreat the precious gift of pain. “Hey, no! Stop it!” Sue tugs Hyun by her small waist, trying to keep her in place.

“Who’s the bitch now?”

“I’m going to fucking kill you—”

“Stop it!” Jaehyo screams from his spot, coming towards the stage again. For someone who avoids arguments, he seems to be angered. “Let’s just…let’s just wait for Kaleigh to get here, practice, and forget this ever happened, okay? We’re a team, we’re not here to harass each other.”

Though, not a single word comes out of her lips, but a glare from Sue tells her that she needs to speak up. “Okay, I won’t do it again.”

Yet, when she turns around, tears weld up in her vision. A broken dream, her pride shattered, and a past that will follow her whether it is true or not…that’s what her life will always consist of, no matter where she runs up to.

###

First month in the new city, and the only thing that keeps her sane is the box filled with CD’s that she keeps inside her shelf, watching Mingyu’s face and smile whenever she needs to remind herself that there are good people in this world.

Sure, flowers don’t bloom in everyone, and what is shown on the recordings could be a bettered version of Mingyu. She knows what it is like to be portrayed as someone else in front of the cameras, after all. Yet, the rosiness of his tanned cheeks and the smile on his features speaks about something inexplicably thrilling. It makes her care about what happened after. Why would they leave all those CD’s behind, and had their marriage work?

Out of her thirteen neighbors, twelve don’t know a thing about him.

It’s a cycle, with the harsh sun confusing the endless wind falling on her back. One door opens, they welcome her into the neighborhood, ask her how she’s doing and they answer her questions.

Do you know who Kim Mingyu is? Yes, of course, he lived where you live right now.

Do you know what he does? No idea.

Do you know what happened to him, per chance? He left one day without saying a thing.

At this point, she may believe that Kim Mingyu was a ghost, and that was the reason why no one ever saw him leaving, or knew why he left. Confusion takes over her—for once, she doesn’t know why she is looking for the man that has brought her comfort for the past month, because nothing would come out of it. It’s not like she’s a fan of him, and will eventually end up meeting him and say: ‘Hey, watching your videos before your relationship fell apart made me feel better because you have such a welcoming, goofy personality’. Yet, there she is, standing in front of the final house of the block, ringing the doorbell on the pristine white walls.

A cat purrs once the doors open, escaping the confines of the home to twirl around her legs. The old woman in front of her, however, does not seem to mind her pet being so sweet, tugging at the edge of her long flowery dress, hunched over as she barely walks, a gray braid falling on her shoulder. A dulcet face, though much older than ninety, accompanies the lonesome woman who smiles at her presence.

“Oh, you’re the pretty girl that just moved in here, right?”

Well, that’s something new. She hasn’t heard much compliments ever since she got here—burn after hit, hit after burn, all coming from her endless hours of preparing for the first night of her musical, and the ones to come. “Depends on who you ask.” She jokes around, extending her hand to greet the woman in front of her. She outs her name into the comfortable atmosphere around them. “Yes, I’m the new neighbor. Nice to meet you…you have such a pretty home.”

“The smallest of the block, but the sturdiest.” The old woman gets out, able to capture anyone with her words. She leans her weight against the doorframe, a tired sigh leaving her lips. “Hye-Eun, that’s my name…and that’s my cat Rose.”

Kneeling down to scratch Rose right on her neck, she hums. “She’s so pretty.” The orange-furred cat seems to understand her, pressing her cheek against her knee before she looks away from her. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Mrs. Hye-Eun, but I have some questions about the previous owners of my house that no one has been able to answer me—”

“You’re not interrupting a thing. I was just watching TV.” Hye-Eun admits.

“I’m glad.” It’s all she seems to be doing these days, too. Not going out. Definitely not spending her time inspecting the city. Instead, she’s either practicing or tiredly lounging around the house. “…Do you happen to know what happened to Kim Mingyu, the owner of the house?”

Hye-Eun stops for a moment, bringing her hands up her nose to rub at it before smiling. “He was a cute one, wasn’t he?”

Heat takes over her features, for she does not shy away from any man…but the stranger has something in him that puts her heart inside a carrousel and gives it a million twirls. “Indeed.”

“He left the day after his wedding. I’d say…about a year ago.” Hye-Eun, for seemingly being so old, captures the date well. One squint of her eye keeps her going, trying to recall the details. “He didn’t leave with Yoona, though. I remember because he brought me some food before he left. Such a caring boy…”

Her judgement may not be the slightest bit wrong about him. A smile appears on her features when she takes Rose in between her hands, looking at the cat’s face for a second before continuing to rub over her fur. Very calm for a cat, actually. “What was he like?”

“Enchanting, really. He used to greet everyone, play around with the kids when he could…he is a photographer, so he took lots of pictures in our neighborhood.” Mingyu sounds much like the man in the recordings so far. Had Yoona been the only one pretending, or was that just a little fight in their relationship? “A little bit dumb, but the sweetest of men are like that. Though, forgetful, too, he never came around after leaving.”

She doesn’t know him and yet, at times, when she doesn’t see his videos for days, she starts to miss his smile. People around the neighborhood, or the ones that truly intertwined with him, must long for his presence. “Seems like his wife was a lucky one.”

“She was.” Though, Hye-Eun says something else about the woman… “Pretty, but too controlling. Mingyu was just too stupid to notice.”

Those words have the smile on her face faltering. “…Really?”

The relationship that she had judged as normal on the first place, now seems to fall on the weight of Yoona’s wrongdoings. “Yes.” Hye-Eun finalizes, nodding her head before smacking her lips together. “But I know nothing else. Sorry, honey.”

“No worries, Mrs. Hye-Eun.” She finalizes, giving Rose back to her owner before resting her hands inside the pocket of her jeans. A photographer, brand-new feelings blossoming with his marriage, Mingyu sounds like one hell of a picturesque man. “Thank you for your help. I’ll get going now.” With a bow, she turns around, ready to take off to her house, when Hye-Eun speaks from her spot.

“He’s a pretty one, isn’t he?”

She stops on her tracks, looking over her shoulders. “Pardon me?”

Hye-Eun rests a kiss on top of Rose’s old cheeks before she chuckles. “A woman doesn’t go around asking about a man through a neighborhood just because.” Though, she has some reason there, if Mingyu is a married man, why should she care? “…Watch out for that heart, honey.”

“Oh no, Mrs. Hye-Eun, I’m afraid you have misunderstood—”

“I haven’t.” The sweet woman says, a smile appearing on her rounded features. “…Just, be careful, okay? Mingyu is the kind of man anyone easily falls for.”

Crossing her fingers across her heart, she replies: “I promise those are not my intentions, ma’am.”

With a chuckle, Hye-Eun takes a hold of her door, ready to close it when she finalizes this conversation. “It’s not what you intend to do, but what you’re actually doing.” The door closes, and she watches Hye-Eun retreat with her cat.

Why is she looking for Mingyu on the first place? Perhaps, a part of her wants to meet him—see that smile from up close and ask what happened to his relationship.

But that’s not her issue, not her position to be in, and that’s the reality of life.

###

“How many times do I have to tell you not to add new steps to the choreography?”

The baby wipe rubbing against her skin stops her motions along with her hand, looking at Kaleigh’s reflection on the mirror, right next to hers. The white lights cast down on the entirety of the face, one half sporting the bruises and dirt on her character’s face, the other completely void of makeup. Kaleigh, however, looks as put-together as always, moving her glasses, holding her script to her chest and pursing her reddened lips when she raises her eyebrows.

“I thought it’d look better, sorry.” Though, Jaehyo and Sue do it at times as well, choreographies and lines that they have worked on behind Kaleigh. They never get repercussions, aiming to be the very best brand of musical actors, but in her case…it’s always a bad move. With the passage of time, her confidence in her talents has deflated. “It won’t happen again.”

“You say that all the time.” Kaleigh answers, looking down at her script with a sigh before flicking a few pages. “And you, still, can’t go to the front. Hyun has worked on her dancing and her physique more than you have, so…stay back.” Though words hurt her more and more each time, digging against her heart like a sword twisting and twisting, opening the wound with more force than the last time. Yet, she only nods, knowing better than going back home and proving everyone right about the curse that follows her family.

“I will.”

“…I don’t want to tell you this, but another mistake, and I’ll kick you out.” Kaleigh, always strict, finalizes with those words, not knowing how to be softer. Little did she know that she left her figure skater with a broken foot at home, only pushed into the train because everyone insisted on her following her dream. Miyoung is much better now, but she can’t follow after her dream anymore. She keeps going, but at what cost? Showing the people that love her that, for once, she is not just some celebrity’s family member?

More often than not, she wants to package her bags and go back home. Wrap her arms around Miyoung and cry for both of their dreams. Buried deep, aching, bleeding. Instead, she watches Kaleigh retreat towards Hyun, sharing a smile with the woman and words of endless praise that should be for her.

Not to be misunderstood. Hyun is as talented as a person can get, but her outward hate towards her and the rivalry she started out of nowhere affects her. What was once admiration towards Hyun now translates into anger, pulsing envy that has her looking to the side as Hyun downs her fifth energy drink of the night. Her pupils dilate, eyelids blinking rapidly, chest heaving for a second as her fingers twirl one against the other. She stares at herself in the mirror, far away from taking off her makeup, before releasing her lines once again under her breath.

She’ll give Hyun that she’s a hard worker, but more than five energy drinks in just one afternoon practice?

The recital is getting closer, pamphlets thrown around, social media presence starting—and the interviews will inherently come soon. Yet, Hyun seems to be under a lot of pressure, the strain of one of the notes she whispers into the thin air coming from endless hours of rehearsing. Main lead but still very much human.

She shouldn’t give a shit. Hyun can start peeing orange like the color of the energy drinks she is having, and she shouldn’t mind, but what does she do instead when leaning against her seat and looking to Hyun’s lonesome speech?

“I don’t think you should be drinking that many energy drinks.”

Hyun looks different when she looks over to her. Her eyes seem to be unable to close, bottom lip stuck in between her teeth, dragged across the surface before tilting her head to the side. “How about your start minding your own business?”

She shrugs. This is a woman, after all, and they may be miles apart personality-wise, but she can’t bring herself to look at Hyun ruin his own health just to function a few more hours on stage. “Well, it’s minding my business. I don’t want to be the one to take you to the ER when one of your kidneys explodes.”

Hyun scoffs, moving her hair away from her face before looking back at her reflection in the mirror. “I’d rather die than share a car with you.”

Why does she even try with this one? It’s clear that she won’t ever let herself be pampered, even when she worries about her health. “You know what? Invite me when that happens. The happiest day of my life, for sure.” She replies, rubbing on her face harshly, not caring if she takes off the entirety of her makeup before tossing her bag over her shoulder and getting off the chair.

When she gets out of her second home, the city welcomes her. Bustling lights, passing cars, the speech that never stops…and yet, she can’t bring herself to like it. She’s one hair away from losing it all—the opportunity of being in this musical, that is, bringing her character to life, but if she doesn’t lose that…her pride as a person will be stepped on.

God, she really needs to stop caring about the musical for once. Her character is different from who she is, and too much practice is about to make her turn out crazy.

Her phone comes up to her ear as she starts walking to the subway, calling one of her friends that live in the same city as her, hoping for an answer when she says:

“Drinks tonight, babe?”

“For sure!”

###

For once, she feels like herself. Stepping out of a taxi, with the night biting at her naked legs, and fashion cladding most of her body. A tight red skirt rests under her bright pink coat, the low neckline of her white shirt showing a sensual side of her that only the cameras had seen, back when she went out partying in her hometown. Lowering her sunglasses from her head to her eyes, she takes a bite of the pizza in between her fingers when her friend closes the taxi’s door behind them.

“This is the best lounge in the entirety of the city, trust me.” Dasom’s pink hair swishes with the wind in inexplicable ways, but the smile on her mischievous features only highlights when she wraps her arm around hers. Dasom had been having dinner with her just a few minutes ago, over some bottles of beer, when she decided a lounge would be much better for them. Music. Dance. Perhaps some people to talk for the night. “Besides, there’s a lot of high-end people here.”

She met Dasom while in high school, where the woman peaked thanks to a viral video on the internet. To this day, she is remembered for it, but her fame hasn’t gone much further. Education aside, she seems to just enjoy the moment. “Wait, can’t I finish my pizza?”

Taking the slice of pizza from her hands, the cheese and sauce concoction ends up on the sidewalk, thrown there by Dasom. “Stop eating. We’re going to have fun and help you forget about your image for once.”

Upon entering the lounge, clouds of red and blue merge together, music boosting the bass through the walls, people cheering with their glasses up in the sky, bodies clinging to one another in a dance. Somehow, it feels like a party, and Dasom never misses one of those. This night doesn’t seem to be the exception, her heels clicking against the black flooring with white speckles as Dasom moves her through the masses of people.

“You didn’t tell me it was going to be a party.”

“Never trust a Gemini.” Dasom instructs about herself before smiling softly. “We’re going to be fine,” She instructs, wrapping one arm around her shoulder before extending her hands to one of the tables. “My friends are over there. We’re going to grab some drinks. And we’re going to have a good time, isn’t that right?”

“…Well, I guess.” Finally, the hazed nature of her happiness comes through, following after the steps of someone more knowledgeable about nights like this. She needs to let go, feel as though she doesn’t care for one night, and if a few shots and shared laughter aims to do that, so be it.

Motions blur one with the other, alcohol passing by her throat, numbing it with each taste. She winces most of the time, but the smile after the hiss is worth it. Pictures come from the night, though she doesn’t know who she is posing with, loving the pineapple in cocktails and the way her body swings as though the denim never restricted her legs. The night casts its light on her, the starring role of a movie that she doesn’t quite remember—but damn, it’s a good time. For once, she doesn’t have to think.

The bad thing about sudden, palpitating happiness is that it dissipates in the matter of seconds. Shots of alcohol are a distraction, not a source of dopamine.

“Dasom!” She shouts her friend’s name, stomach hunching as she steps away from the groups of people. There are a bunch of people with rosy hair in here, or maybe, she is too drunk to tell who her friend is. Her hands wrap around a handle, apologizing when coming in contact with the steady and strong body of the body guard before stepping on the sidewalk, hurling forward until she empties the contents of her stomach.

Yeah…alcohol is not her thing.

One of her earrings falls down, a wince following the action before she spits on the floor. She doesn’t feel any better, and she imagines she’s going to be here for another second. Her hands rest on her thighs, letting the world see her and the cars passing by on her worst of states. Worst of ideas, it was, but she can’t quite regret it when she’s beyond tipsy.

Someone rests their hand on the sleeve of her coat, pulling it up her shoulder before patting her back. Sobs rip from her mouth, lungs contracting and breaths suffocating with the sickness that revolves her stomach. A soft, yet somewhat confused, voice talks to her, rubbing circles on her back in the process.

“Hey, everything is going to be alright. Just breathe.”

Tears mix with her mascara, touching down to her worn-out lipstick as she breathes out: “I—I can’t…I feel so sick.”

This is a man that is talking to her, she can tell that much, but when he fixes her tangled hair from her earrings and continues to speak words of comfort to her, she can’t figure out anything else. A lisp is there, that’s all she can tell. “Oh no. You’ve drank too much.” Unsure of what to say or do, from her peripheral vision, she can see the man looking around the streets. Brown hair, glasses, and a black cardigan, but she doesn’t remember anything else. “I’m here with you. Calm down.”

Before she could say anything else, her stomach lifts its contents and she brings her weight forward once again.

From the faint distance, she can hear a small ‘ew’ from the man.

“Shit. Are any of your friends here?” With the smallest of nods, the man complies with another question. “W—What’s her name?”

“Kang Dasom.”

“Kang Dasom. Kang Dasom. Okay. Okay, I can do this.” More-so talking to himself, the man retreats from his spot beside her. Gone, like everyone, leaving the drunken, sobbing mess that is herself at this moment, it’s not a surprise that he left her to go find her friend. However, his actions say otherwise. “Hey, guard! Can you go look for Kang Dasom inside? I can’t leave her alone.”

Once again by her side, she wraps her fingers around his taut forearm, lifting her gaze for one second, but unable to make out a figure of his blurred features. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no. Don’t be.” The man in question instructs, slipping his backpack off one shoulder before taking out a bottle of water, flimsily giving it to her. “Take a few sips, please.”

She does as he says, letting the cold liquid go down her abused throat, the man’s warm fingertips rubbing the tears away from her cheeks before she sighs. “…Thank you. I must look so…wacky.”

At the adjective she uses, the stranger chuckles. “It’s a new fashion trend, don’t worry.”

Smiling lazily, she hears the sound of the door opening, her name breathed out by a worried tone. “Oh my God, sweetie! I couldn’t find you anywhere!”

Dasom’s arms wrap around her body, not caring that she is smelly, just vomited, and that she’s head over heels drunk. “It’s okay…” She breathes out, feeling her stomach calm down at the touch of the lulling water, but Dasom pulls away to look at her.

“It’s not okay! God, anything could’ve happened to you…”

The stranger speaks in a low tone, playing with whatever is hanging from his neck. A necklace? A camera? A bag? She can’t tell. “I have to go back to work. Is everything going to be alright?”

Dasom looks at the man for one fraction of a second before humming. “We’ll be fine, thank you.” Though, she doesn’t get enough time to say anything to the stranger with the familiar voice, instead sucking in a breath when Dasom takes her by the waist and drags her towards the edge of the sidewalk, eyes already trained on her phone. “I’m going to call our taxi. We need to take you back home.”

The night wasn’t so bad, at least, for she realized there are still good people in this world.

###

All her life she has lived in the backseat, now she realizes.

Shadows of mistakes, people in other cars able to see her, but with the motion, she never captured a glance of them. People judged her, but they never stopped to see the real image, the driver and where it was taking her, how the road was and how the breeze could change the trees, the weather, and the time when everything happened. It’s not what she signed up for, but it’s the only thing she has known.

She knew the media before she even knew what a friend was. Learned how to look at the camera even before she learned how to speak to someone while staring at them face-to-face. Her name was said by other people, strangers at that, before she even knew how to spell it or write it. It’s not what she desired, but she keeps going. Her hands extend to continue with her dance routine, stepping forward just for one second, knowing that this is the only moment to shine. One of the few moments she is not the little girl everyone expected the worst from.

Look at what you’ve become, she wants to tell herself. You’re halfway through being an artist.

One day until her first performance in front of the crowd, and she’s ready to take it like a champion. Good or bad reviews, whatever happens is the source of her hard work—rather, it’s outcome. Her sneakers dig into the stage. Her stage that she shares with amazing people, and if twenty seconds of singing is all she gets, it’s what she is going to hold onto.

Upon reaching her mark, she feels a log—a leaf in her road to autumn. Her body proceeds to fall upon losing her balance, knees digging into the wood, creating dents in the skin, burning at the touch when her hands expand to stand her weight. Her chin hits the floor, but the masked laughter that comes from the person by her side shows the culprit. Baby blue sneakers, toned legs, and that malice that conceptualizes.

Kaleigh stops the music, fixing her glasses before sighing deeply. “Are you trying to kiss the floor?”

She sits up at that moment, her fingers pointing at Hyun by her side. Supposed to be her companion in this scene and yet, destroying everything that drives her to her dreams. “Ask the one that jutted her leg forward so I could trip.”

“I didn’t do such thing.”

Kaleigh, as always, backs her up. “I didn’t see her putting her leg forward.” Before she could defend herself any further, let the fire of the stress burn through Kaleigh’s serious expression, the woman is already looking behind her, speaking to the dot of a man that she can’t perceive at the last row of the practice place. “Are the pictures coming out fine? I don’t want people to see our cast on the floor.”

The more she proceeds in life, the more she realizes she is the only one that can bring herself up, dust her knees before anyone could even put a finger over her. It’s better this way. The photographer gets away from the shadows, lowering the Canon from his face before nodding slowly. “I’m getting good shots. Thank you for worrying.”

That lisp. If she moved her head any faster, she would have gotten whiplash. Upon watching the man’s face, she feels as though the Earth swallows her whole. Rounded face, toned body, his ears hidden by his beanie, glasses propped on the bridge of his nose, thin lips and that melodious smile. A bit silly at times, but yet, so enchanting on him.

“Ah,” Mingyu gets closer to the stage, standing by the edge before extending his camera towards her. Yes. Her. Why in the hell can’t she move? Men shouldn’t have this kind of effect on her. Anyone, really. “I want you to check your pictures with me, just in case you don’t like…the way you look or something. The expressions! Yes, that’s what I’m trying to say.”

Good, because she almost thought for a moment that he was trying to say: ‘Hey, your pictures are looking ugly. Can you check and tell me if you’re alright with them?’.

Finally, she steps forward, her legs dangling when she rests her bottom on the stage. “Sure.” Mingyu stands by her side, looking at her profile for a second before returning his gaze to his thick Canon camera, flickering through the pictures he had taken. Bright, with good poses, the angles fitting for every subject of his camera. “I like them.”

“This is the one from when you fell,” Mingyu instructs, making a circle around Hyun’s stuck-out leg. “And she did stick her leg out.”

“Well, I’m not crazy.” She says, rolling her eyes in the process before linking her hands over her lap. Mingyu looks at her, and for some reason, she feels like she knows him. After all, she saw a portion of him not a lot of people got to see—more mature, he seems to be, void of a glistening band around his finger. Perhaps, he just doesn’t like rings at all.

Mingyu looks up and down her features, long eyelashes fluttering against the underside of his eyes before smiling briefly. “Not crazy, but very drunk at times.”

Huh?

Drunk?!

“Excuse me?” She asks, because there is no way in hell Mingyu has seen her or gotten to know her, much less be aware of her when drunken—

Mingyu leans his weight against the stage, elbows propped back as he talks to her. “You don’t remember me?”

From the CD’s? Yeah. From a drunk night? Hell no. “…What do you mean?” She won’t quite in fact confess that she does remember him.

Roses grow on his cheeks, shaking his head when looking down at his camera. “Well, we were at the Urban Lounge. I was taking pictures, and just as I was about to head inside once again with my new film, I saw someone throwing up in the sidewalk. Crying, too.” Oh no. Oh please, don’t let this be the truth— “I decided to help you find your friend Kang Dasom, and then, I returned to the party.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh, yes.”

What are the odds that the sweet man that had rubbed her back when vomiting, was also the same man that helped her with her anxiousness each day when getting home from practice? There can’t be that many good people in this world, but Mingyu couldn’t be two of the nice people she had gotten to know in this city.

Or, rather, he was.

“Nothing to be ashamed of. We have all been there.” Mingyu stops for a moment, pressing his lips together, rubbing them, before releasing his words. “Me more than others, but it’s nice to be the one helping for a change.”

More souls like his should exist in this world. “Ugh, I can’t believe you saw me like that.” She groans, lowering her head until her neck hangs it. Mingyu chuckles from his spot, only to build the tension inside of her. The man in the recordings had seen her like a whole mess, and found it funny at that. Wow. “…You know, not a lot of people can say that they have seen me like that.”

“Not a lot of people see someone throw up before they actually know their names, but alas, here we are.”

“What a way to make a lady feel better.”

Mingyu’s smile falters the slightest bit at that, extending his hand before saying. “Hello, I’m Mingyu, but in this occasion, you can call me a dumbass.”

Funny, he is, enough for a smile to rake over her features even when her elbows and knees hurt. She speaks her name out, letting his professional and soft fingers caress against her own in a shake. Long digits, perfect for photo-taking, but horrible to think about when she remembers he is possibly married.

“I was joking. Don’t worry about it.” Instead, she hears her name being called, Kaleigh with her hands on her hips, waiting for her to return to the stage. “…Uh, I kind of have to get back to work.”

Now, she realizes the thing that dangled from the man at the lounge’s neck was his camera, the strip giving him more leverage when he nods at her. “I do, too.”

“Nice to meet you, Mingyu.”

Nice to meet you, again, maybe.

“Likewise.”

Though, she feels someone stare behind her when she turns around and gets back on her spot, she tries not to think much of it. He may be trying to get a good picture of the one figure in the shadows that is her.

###

Fourteen hours for the first performance of When The Kids Go To Sleep.

Fourteen hours and in the solitude of that stage, with only one light on, everyone from the staff gone to their homes, she feels the most like a star. In this stage, right at this moment, it feels like a star will be born.

The lyrics to the final song repeat themselves from her lips. She knows them by heart, the reason as to why she moved here on the first place, and with her hands gathering all the emotions in the air only to press them to her chest, she feels like she is five percent more ready for the night after. Or, actually, tonight—midnight, it is, and she still hasn’t left the practice room.

Everyone is gone, what is the worse that could happen?

Just as she moves to another spot, keeping the tempo and the rhythm of her feet, a thud interrupts her. Loud, clear, as if someone had opened the door and jumped on the floor. She halters her step, watching the locked doors with a frown on her features. If that door wasn’t open, then how had the sound appeared on the first place?

Her vocal cords close, swallowing thickly as she looks around the stage. If this is a robber, she needs to find something to defend herself with. An umbrella rests at the edge of the stairs, the one she had brought with herself on the rainy morning, cladded in Winnie The Pooh logos on a baby blue background. One step down the stairs and she hears it again, that thud, followed by the incomprehensible set of words the robber says.

Fuck. Someone’s here.

Someone is here and she had not even noticed.

Precision in her walk, she goes over to the hallway to the left of the entrance door, where the noises get louder as she gets closer to the storage rooms and bathrooms. One step forward, followed by her next leg, keeps moving her towards the culprit of the noise, both hands grabbing onto the body of the umbrella with a plan inside her head. She’ll knock this motherfucker down for scaring her that way.

The robber has some sense of humor, however. When she stands in front of one of the storage rooms, the door half-opened, the sound of one Eminem song escaping his lips becomes the main source of speech in this room. Who the hell sings an Eminem song when stealing?

The world is made out of colors and opinions. Maybe, this robber found it fitting.

She opens the door with one swing, lifting her umbrella well up in the air before knocking it against the robber’s head, the smack welcomed by a groan and a whine from the stealer.

“I’m going to call the police—” The robber turns around, both hands cladding his head, his brown hair sticking out at certain spots, a confused glance in his eyes. Well, so that is why the robber was singing Eminem…because it wasn’t a robber at all. “Mingyu?”

Blame it on her sleep deprivation. Yes. That’s it.

“Ouch?” Mingyu utters out, separating the word in syllables just as she reaches forward, rubbing the portion of his head that she just hit.

“I’m sorry. I thought it was someone trying to steal from me and kill me—”

“Who sings while stealing?” Mingyu questions, finally lifting his gaze and straightening his body. His eyes connect to hers, and she finally realizes just how much of a bitch paranoia is.

“I don’t know. I’m sure they enjoy music, as well.”

Mingyu looks at her for a second, blinking, silenced, until laughter escapes his lips. Shortened, at that. “You should consider changing your career path. That arm?” The man flings his arm back and forth, as if pretending to receive the ball from a pitcher in a baseball game. “Perfect for a baseball player.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she grins. “What were you even doing here, oh-so-funny-man?”

The man in question waves his camera in the air, clearing his throat soon after. “Checking the pictures and the videos to see which ones I should take tomorrow.” Right, he probably was preparing for the big night as well. “You’re doing great, by the way. I could hear you from here.”

It’s been a while since she has believed she has done great. Her umbrella becomes her axis, resting it on the floor as she leans on it, a sigh leaving her lips. “I still have a long way before I get to Hyun’s level.”

A bright star under a roof, that’s how Hyun was going to be perceived, while she was going to be one twinkling firelight passing by. Mingyu bites the inside of his cheek, moving towards her with careful steps. “Hey, it’s not a competition…” He tries to make her feel better, as per usual with Kim Mingyu for what she has realized from his videos, but she shakes her head, chuckling in the process.

“God, I’m making it too serious.” She rolls her eyes. After all, Mingyu is a complete stranger. It’s not like he knows that she has seen one of the most private portions of his life in video. “But yes, you’re right. It isn’t supposed to be a competition, but it’s what Hyun has made it so…”

“Then, win.” Mingyu concludes, his lips lifting to the left in a smirk.

She quirks one eyebrow, tilting her head to the side. “Easier said than done.”

“Like everything, but just wait, people will see the same thing I did today.” His eyes trail down her features, chuckling a bit to himself out of awkwardness before clearing his throat. One step back, and the electricity is cut short. “Your pictures came out fine, too. I’ll make sure to do a great job tomorrow.”

“You’re going to be the photographer for the rest of the play?”

“From time to time. As long as I’m not gigged, I’ll be here.” Mingyu replies, placing the strap of his camera’s bag on his shoulder before sighing. “I’ll go catch up on some sleep now. You’re staying here until the morning or do you want me to call you a taxi?”

Tiredness lingers on her body, but she can’t bring herself to sleep. Not when she is one step closer to either fulfilling or destroying her dream. Opening the door for him, she shakes her head. “I’ll stay here until the morning.”

“You sure?”

“I have to practice.”

“If you say so…” He trails, stepping out of the door and walking alongside her before speaking up again. “You know everything is going to be fine, right?”

One look at his profile and suddenly, the warmth that makes place inside her body lets her feel so. Being alright is something she hasn’t considered in the past month of pushing herself to utter perfection, but maybe, it isn’t so far away.

“I think so, too.”

Sprinkles of rain patter against the sidewalk when Mingyu opens the entrance door, swirls of air moving his hair before he places his beanie on top of it once again. Before he could step outside, his hand grabs the handle of the door, sharing a glance with her when saying:

“I hope to see you again.”

With that, just like a leaf through the wind, he flies away.

###

Success tastes like honey.

The magic of being on stage in a musical is that she doesn’t see anybody, but she feels them. The silence that merges into cheers, the faint gasp from someone on row three, or the flash of a camera from someone who wants to capture this moment for when they feel like going back down the stage of nostalgia. Critics scatter around the place, but she can’t vision them, maybe for the better. With shred clothing, bruises and tiredness painted on her skin, she is her character, and whatever her past said about her no longer exists here.

The only thing that lacks are her loved ones, somewhere else in the country, living their lives while she constructs her own. Jaehyo does an imminent job in catching people’s attention with his dance, though not in the center, and Sue does not fall behind with her immaculate acting skills. Hyun, the star of the night, receives attention as deserved. Sure, she is not the most beautiful of people on the inside, but her talent is outraging.

When her bare feet come in contact with the center of the stage, sharing it with Hyun, she spares one look towards the groups of people. First row, with his dark hair absentmindedly pushed away from his face, a black, oversized t-shirt cladding his body and matching his ripped jeans, Mingyu is squatting down to get the perfect shot. The dimmed lights do not let her see the beauty of him, but the camera is pointing towards her, and she relishes on it.

Mingyu’s camera does her justice, after all.

By the time the musical is over, a smile takes over her features, backstage and hearing the standing ovation, blood pumping, hands jittery, and heart on her sleeve when she goes over to Jaehyo and wraps her arms around him with emotions bubbling up on her bloodshot eyes. She really needs to sleep.

The older man’s arms end around her waist. “We did it, Jaehyo! It was a success!” Jumping up and down on his hold, Jaehyo chuckles at her antics.

“Calm down, calm down, it’s only the first night.” Jaehyo whispers, pulling away with a lazy smile on his face. “…But it was one hell of a good first night. Pizza for celebration?”

“You know it!”

The next fifteen minutes consist of taking pictures, trying her best not to concentrate on the photographer or on the hunger that creeps up her body, unable to smile as brightly if it wasn’t for Mingyu. Lacking sleep, needing a nice, fulfilling meal, it’s no wonder that she had not slept a single minute in the past forty-eight hours. Maybe, that’s why she is a bit bummed when Mingyu doesn’t say a thing to her, continuing with his job with utmost professionalism.

Some children gather to take pictures with the cast, unknowingly filling her heart with pride. In one point of her life, she was like them, eager and excited to get the attention of her favorite characters. The magic of theater is that characters, and actors alike, are not unreachable to the watcher. It’s a live source of magic.

Jaehyo is off to greet the deliveryman outside by the time thirty minutes have passed. Her makeup wipes run across her skin, ready to take off the excessive amount of makeup on her skin and exchange it for breathing pores and comfort. She stops looking at her reflection to hunt for someone with the mirror, scanning the room unbeknownst to the rest of the people there. Mingyu’s thighs extend when seated at the edge of one of the vanities backstage, clicking through the pictures as one of the children talks to him. Mingyu seems to be intently listening to the child, but when he looks for something from the corner of his eyes, she feels his gaze on hers.

Her eyes trail down his toned arms, the expansion of his thighs, seeking for the art in him as if she is DaVinci and he is the Mona Lisa. A smile appears on her features, straightening her back and leaning her weight forward to continue to rub her makeup off, not forgetting to make herself look the best as possible. At least, he’s looking.

Yet, she shakes that thought away—he shouldn’t be looking. As far as she knows, he could still be with Yoona.

A hand extends on top of her shoulder seconds after, rubbing at the skin softly, as if giving her a massage, before breathing out her name in that somewhat deep, harmonious tone of his. “…Wasn’t so difficult to steal the show, wasn’t it?”

For someone who is not a good talker in most occasions, the line has her beam widening. “You’re joking.”

“No,” Mingyu says, dragging one seat to her side, the plastic chair making him look smaller next to her, for her artist’s chair is much taller. His legs expand, interlocked hands settled in between his thighs, and she really should stop looking at those—

Her eyes go up.

“Want to look at your pictures?”

She puts the makeup wipe down, running her fingertips on top of her eyelashes to check if there is any leftover mascara there. Clean. All the makeup is off. “Is that the only conversation we are ever going to have? My pictures?”

“We should.” Mingyu mumbles out, frowning his features in confusion before his eyebrows shoot up, realization falling upon him. “Not that I don’t want to talk to you about anything else! Shit, that sounded like such—. Yes, we can talk about something else.”

The smell of thick sauce, melted cheese and corn has her turning towards the red curtains, watching Jaehyo slip inside before giving her the box of pizza that belongs to her. Thanking him softly, she opens it on top of the vanity, pointing at it as she talks to Mingyu. “Help yourself. I haven’t had one of these since the night at the bar.”

Mingyu stands up, hovering over her to be able to get a piece, and she tries her hardest not to bite her lip at the vision of his profile. Definitely crafted by an artist, he is a sculpture made person. “And yet, here you are, eating it again.”

“It may be our thing now.” She replies, leaning back on her seat to watch Hyun downing yet another energy drink, hands contracting against each other, her expression turned somber. “Hey, Hyun!” She calls out, only to have the woman frowning at the sound of her voice and turning her head to the side.

“What do you want?”

“I asked Jaehyo to bring you some pizza. Tell him to—”

“I won’t have it.” Hyun finishes, picking up her purse and throwing it over her shoulder. “…Thank you.” She utters, though she doesn’t stay for long, opening the red curtains and getting away from the actors’ spot.

She doesn’t know why she tries. Maybe, because she thinks the tension between Hyun and herself could be the downfall of the musical, but Hyun is just too thick mentally. “How did this whole rivalry start?” Mingyu says, taking the first bite of his slice before he huffs slightly, trying to cool down the piece that is inside his mouth. Even with his lips half-parted, eyes widened, there is some cuteness to him.

Pressing the pizza up to her lips and biting on it, she shakes her head. “I have no idea.” She replies. “…Are we playing questions now?”

Mingyu shrugs. “Only if you have some.”

“About you? Endless.” She says, leaning forward until she is face to face with Mingyu, taking all in her not to look down at his lips. “When did you start taking pictures?”

“When I was seventeen,” Mingyu says, not backing down the slightest, yet chewing on his meal with expertise. He must have been hungry, as well. “One of my best friends needed some money, so he was trying for modelling gigs. Needed a portfolio and all…so I took pictures of him.”

“Did modelling work for him?”

“Almost.” Mingyu says, finalizing his pizza with one big bite, taking a napkin and pressing it to his lips before continuing after swallowing his food. “Soonyoung is good, my friend. Just…he’s shy, I guess? He didn’t see his potential then, doesn’t do it now. That’s just what happened.”

“Something good came out of it, though. You’re a great photographer.”

“Thank you.” With heated cheeks, he answers. “What about music for you? Or acting…or dancing? Like, musical stuff is just too much. I don’t know how you do it. I can barely walk and talk at the same time.”

Chuckling, she sighs, taking another slice of pizza. A string of cheese follows her first bite. “Uh,” She starts, pondering on exactly what to say. “My family has always been…well, famous. For the longest while, I thought I was going to be anything but famous, like…I don’t know, a teacher or something.” She may like children, but patience is not her biggest of virtues. “But I had no option than to be in the spotlight. Got my first acting gig in a doctor’s show, and I started to like it since then.”

“You were in TV?”

“I was patient number three. That was my character.”

Mingyu laughs joyfully, like he doesn’t care the slightest bit about what the world thinks of him—every particle of this world belongs to him and gives their attention to the beauty of his existence. “Oh, look at that, that’s my favorite character of all time.”

“Want me to give you an autograph?”

Pretending to take off his shirt, Mingyu replies: “On my boobies, please.”

“You did not.” She counterparts, doubling over in laughter at his behavior. “You better have a good set.”

“A good set of what?”

Curling her fingers in the air, she replies: “Boobies, as you called them. I call them titties.”

“Look at me ruining my own joke.”

“Lost the comedic timing, but don’t worry, that happens.” For one second, she inspects the glisten of the cheese on top of pizza, licking her lips with curiousness guiding her actions. “…Your girlfriend must like your jokes, Mingyu.”

Now, let’s see exactly what happened with Yoona. Or Kim Yoona. They should be married at this point. Mingyu runs his free hand through his hair, leaning back on his seat and crossing one leg over the other. “My friends do, but I don’t have a girlfriend to tell my jokes to.”

“…Huh?”

“Surprising?” Mingyu questions, though there is not an ounce of cockiness in his words.

“Very.”

“Why’s that?”

Pointing at the mirror, she says: “Take a look there and then, you’ll know why I wonder you don’t have someone with you.” Also, because he was one day from getting married in the last recording of the box. What had happened? Perhaps, he had been stood up, or they cut the wedding short. Or, even worse, Yoona had been the one left at the altar—

Mingyu chuckles at that moment, grease glistening on his lips, licking them to press them together. “Thank you.”

Sue comes around at that moment, sporting much more simplistic clothes and holding her box of pizza in between her hands. “We’re going to grab dessert and drinks, want to join us?” Jaehyo stands by her side, munching on his meal, and they are two angels at that moment. Kim Mingyu is single, wanting to get to know her, and maybe, hiding the fact that she knew about his relationship a little bit longer won’t do her any wrong.

She looks over at him, shrugging. “I wouldn’t mind. Want to come with us?”

“I have to take care of you if you drink, don’t I?”

“Oh, don’t be too confident.” She says, standing up and picking up her coat, closing the box of pizza in the process. “I may be the one taking care of you.”

Imitating her tone of voice, Mingyu says: “I wouldn’t mind.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Mingyu repeats, looking down at her lips before returning his gaze towards Jaehyo and Sue. “Let me grab my camera.”

###

Exquisiteness is divine. Pearls in the bracelets around her wrists, a nice dress cladding her body, and the taste of the most delicious of meals, washed away by the concoctions of a chef. The summer nights passed long ago, but the newest era of success has come to her now. Third night, not in a row, of her introduction to the musical world, and each time she sees Mingyu, they end up hanging out after. At first, it was with Jaehyo and Sue, then, it was backstage…and now, she has brought him to a four-star-restaurant, one of the most expensive in the city.

The white ceramic of the plate she is eating from leaves imprints of Ratatouille on its wake, interrupting her speech about one of her childhood memories in order to catch a glimpse of the source of the flash hitting her face. This is familiar—whenever she held hands with one of her family members as a child, someone would take the opportunity to bring a camera up her face, judge her for how she was going to turn out to be without really knowing her. Basking in money, she thought she’d never care—but she did. Having people comment on her from the moment she was born played with her mind far more than she comments.

Beauty of the soul is never enough for them. In a world like this, people can’t be pure.

But with Mingyu, she feels the purest. His eye squints as he takes a picture of her, barely touching his food, as he’d say…embarrassed that she is paying for such an expensive meal. Yet, he deserves it. Sent from heaven, bathed in the golden speckles of destiny, bringing light to the most mundane of activities. He petrifies memories, and what an irony it is, that what she ran away from the most as she was growing up is his biggest passion.

She licks her lips, half-laughing at his antics. “Did you just take a picture of me?”

“You get a very pensive look on your face when you think about the past.” Perhaps, because it hurts her. Racing cars, lovers that didn’t last more than a week, memories of self-love that plaster on what other people thought of her. Young, rich and pretty doesn’t cut it in this world. “S—Sorry, I interrupted you, didn’t I? You were talking about the last time you went to Los Angeles—”

“It doesn’t matter.” She whispers, rubbing her fingers together to take the perspiration away from her skin. “Life is monotone when you’re somewhat famous. You do the same thing over and over again, pretending like it makes you happy.”

“Is that why you moved here?”

In reality, it was the addition of a few things. Her break-up. Her dream. Her opportunity. And running away. “What’s funny is that I didn’t even know what I would do once I moved here,” She replies, shrugging her shoulders after. “My best friend, Miyoung, I talked about her with you…she’s a figure skater, and she was supposed to attend the Olympics this year, but she broke her foot two days before I left. I thought that was the big sign for me not leaving.” Thoughtfully, she thinks back to the phone call she received in the middle of the night above a month ago. Miyoung had not rested the slightest, leading to an injury and sooner than later, a broken foot. Turns out that she would not be able to perform the same way she did before. “…But Miyoung told me it was quite the contrary, that it worked as a push-over for me to get here. According to her, it was my only chance to get a name for myself.”

“You’re on your way there.” Mingyu says, though her rests his camera on his lap, tasting the meal in front of him. “…I didn’t know about your family history or about you before, but I think people will start to recognize you as your own person soon.”

Hopefully, she can only think. “You know what?” She questions. Throughout the entirety of her time there, through the videos she had seen with Mingyu starring in them, an idea had crossed her head— “I think I’d be my happiest if I was just another person into this world. Like you.”

Mingyu shakes his head. “You’re crazy.” He tells her. “Exchanging money, power and success for…being like me?”

“I happen to think you’re a very good person.”

“Kind of.” Mingyu confesses, covering his mouth when he laughs: “But the day I’m gone from this world, no one will remember me. You can leave a mark on people’s lives.”

“So can you!”

“Probably to my children in the future, but not—”

“Listen, Mingyu—” Her words cut short then. How can she say this without outing what will inherently make him mad? “You’ve left your mark on people, I am sure.”

“It’s not the same.” His eyes shine under the golden chandeliers. Young ambition takes over him. “You’ll be legendary. I’ll be remembered by my neighborhood.”

“Maybe, we could exchange.”

“Or we could meet in the middle.” Mingyu conquers, and she likes that even more. Two souls that are clearly different but dance in the middle. Her leg extends forward, brushing against his skin, because she has seen this scene a few times in her life—romance in the form of getting to know each other, but for now, she doesn’t want to care about the outcome. Fuck the introduction or the conclusion, the development is always the best part.

“You know what I want to do?” She asks, the music in the background changing into some typical jazz tune, just as she hovers over the table, face to face with him.

You, she wants to tell him, instead, she looks into his eyes, Mingyu’s expression turning serious, cutting the tension with one of his smiles. “I don’t read minds.” He says. “Tell me?”

“I want to take pictures of you.” She replies, hang reaching for the camera on his lap, trying to understand the garment when she goes back to her seat. Pulling it up to her face, she squints one eye just like he does. She only needs to focus on him, right? “And keep them.”

“Why?” Mingyu asks, though, she can see him softly changing his pose, as to look more relaxed and camera-ready. Well, he does like a bit of attention.

“I want to remember the person that makes me believe there are still good people in this world.” The camera flashes when she takes a first picture, leaning back on her seat to capture more of his body in that black turtleneck and the necklace that wraps around his body. Tanned skin, brown hair, and a beautiful smile when she says those words.

“You haven’t known me for long enough to judge that, you know?”

“Then, give me the benefit of getting to know you more.”

A glimpse of his eyes connecting with hers on the camera has her smiling. “I’ll gladly give it to you.”

At the mention of those words, she lifts her eyebrows, another picture and her mind wander towards to possibilities. “What will you give me? The benefit of getting to know you? Just that?”

“You want more?”

“…It’s enough.”

Mingyu leans forward, his face coming in full view in the camera when he snatches it away from her hold, before whispering. “I was going to say I could give you everything you want, but seeing that just knowing me it’s enough…I’ll accept it.”

God. This man will be the death of her.

###

Two weeks in and not seeing Mingyu feels like it’s almost impossible. They gravitate towards each other—polar opposites that meet in the middle. His steps are heard as she keeps her hand to his, dragging him along over the lineal rug of the hotel they visited—for the pool, which Dasom said was the best—, baby blue doors compared to white walls, the faint swish of the pool nearby making music for the two of them to hear.

“Mingyu, hurry up!”

The fabric of her yellow dress caresses her legs, needing nothing more than to feel like she is living in summer, while the wind clashes with its coldness. Hopefully, the pool warms her body. Mingyu pulls her backwards by the white cardigan draped over her body, connecting his chest to her back. With each breath he takes, her own lungs shake, his voice lowering to speak against her ear.

“What’s the rush?” He asks, the few buttons opened of his floral shirt meeting her contracted muscles. “If I really went as fast as I can go, you wouldn’t be able to keep up.”

That’s the thing with Mingyu—he says the worst of things, in the situations that have her skin heating up, her mind going to places it shouldn’t. Not when he makes her feel like nobody else has done, as if scalding her fingertips to touch him would be worth it. Just before he could apologize, like he always does, because Mingyu just can’t say one thing without fucking up, she looks at him from over her shoulder. “Try me.”

A huff escapes his lips, wrapping both arms around her waist when picking her up and starting to rush through the hallway to get to the swimming pool.

“Mingyu—” Cackles leave her lips, legs flaring because he is just not looking forward. At least, not properly. “We could fall!”

“I’ll catch you if that happens—”

“You don’t know that!”

Floating in the clouds, somewhere beyond the universe, she lets her laughter speak for her. Never would she trust someone with this, but this is Mingyu she is talking about. The man that opens his heart without much thinking. “I promise I won’t let you fall. Just tell me when the swimming pool is close.”

Patting his arm, the toned skin coming in contact with her hand, she says: “Now, now! We’re close—”

Mingyu lets go of her after releasing her on the floor with a thud, turning around to watch the smile on his face when he puffs out his chest and adds: “See? I would never let you fall.”

“Not scientifically proven, so I’m not sure if I can believe you.”

“…You’re so annoying.” Laughing, she places her hands on each side of Mingyu’s body. She needs to get back to him, steal chuckles from his lips, so with one step back, she prepares for the biggest surprise of all. “Do you want me to turn around so you can take off your dress or—?”

Another step back and they are both falling inside the pool, dragged by her own weight.

Warm water bubbles around her, unable to open her eyes until her lungs receive air when getting to the surface. There, the droplets of water cling to her eyelashes, watching Mingyu merging up about at the same time that she did. His shirt clings to his body, thankfully wearing his bathing suit, strands of brown hair pressed to his gorgeous skin when he splashes water her way, though she’s already laughing.

“Don’t do that!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Yet, Mingyu keeps splashing water at her, getting closer and closer until he is just mere centimeters away.

“You think it’s funny, don’t you?”

“I’m a musical actress, not a comedian. Sorry.” Taking the damp cardigan in between her hands, she tosses it to the side, landing at the edge of the pool with a clanking noise from its buttons before jutting her chin forwards towards him. “I’m sorry about your shirt.”

“You just wanted me to take it off.”

“You would’ve even if I hadn’t thrown you into the pool.”

“So, you brought me to this pool for that on the first place.” Mingyu says, brown irises darkening when her fingers reach for the edge of her dress, pulling it up until she is left in a one-piece. That’s the magic of him—making her feel like there is not a competition, as if she’s the most gorgeous woman he has seen in a while. Her assumptions about herself are not seen by him.

“So,” She says, letting the dress fall to the side and trying not to cling to her own body, shrinking in order to hide away from him. Mingyu’s fingers hook around every button of his shirt, taking it off little by little to showcase his slim, yet toned body. “Swimming competition and whoever gets to end of the pool buys dinner?”

“I’ll buy dinner either way, but sure—” She needs to look away. The least she needs is that lingering voice inside her head that tells her that she’d do absolutely anything to get a taste of Kim Mingyu. It feels wrong, how he doesn’t know where she lives, what she found out when being there, how the lines of their stories always seemed to connect…but maybe, he’d feel taken off guard if only he knew the truth. That, in retrospect, she had seen the beauty of him before he even knew about her.

Her phone rings from the bag that she had left at the edge of the pool when Mingyu dropped her on the flooring. Incessantly. Even when she starts swimming with him, laughing along and splashing him on the face at the same time he does, it continues ringing.

Mingyu spares one look at her, pointing at her phone when saying: “Want me to get it for you?”

“No,” Worry rises up inside of her, swimming quickly until she got to the edge of the pool, the third call appearing on her screen once again. Mingyu’s presence is felt right behind her, but she can’t concentrate on him when she reads the contact.

Miyoung.

Something happened to Miyoung.

“Hello?” Fear clings to her chest. Miyoung, her best friend, the apple to her eye, could not have her life any worse than what it is right now. She doesn’t deserve it and as her best friend, she won’t let it happen. “Miyoung, are you okay?”

“Of course, babe. I’m fine.” Miyoung speaks in her typical purred out tone. A breath trapped inside her lungs lets go at that moment, leaning her weight forward just when Mingyu presses his hand to her back, rubbing those soothing circles that she knows so much.

“How is your foot?”

“Healed, thankfully. You already know that.”

“Goddamn it, Miyoung, I thought something had happened to you—”

“Haven’t you checked YouTube? I’m not the one you should be worrying about. Worry about yourself.”

YouTube? One or two videos about her musical had appeared, but she hasn’t been in the headlines for a bad reason. “Why should I worry? What are you talking about?”

Mingyu moves over to her side, and she can feel his eyes penetrating into her side profile when Miyoung utters out: “Haseul released his newest comedy special, and the motherfucker mentioned you. People are going crazy with the memes, you need to check it out.”

“What?” Her ex-boyfriend hadn’t crossed her head in a while. After all, remembering what hurt her the most—the obsession of always being right, the lies, the friends that he said he had nothing to do with and the way he passed her every opinion over his ass as if it didn’t matter…is not what she plans on doing. Not when she’s moving on. Yet, it seems like he doesn’t want her to do just that.

“Check it out. I’m—I’m talking to my PR team man to make a statement. I’m tired of his bullshit.”

“Don’t, don’t!” She says quickly. Miyoung’s career has already fallen down, she doesn’t need unnecessary drama. “I’ll fix it. I—I just need to look at it, okay?”

“Babe, promise me you’re not going to feel bad.”

“Is it that bad?”

“Horrible.”

“Then, I can’t promise anything.” With a sigh, she looks down. “I’ll call you later, okay? Let me see what all of this is about.”

When putting her phone down, it takes less than a second for Mingyu to speak, worry dripping from his every tone. “Wh—What happened?”

Well, time for a fraction of the truth. “Before I came here…I was dating some guy. Well, we had been dating for three months at a maximum. Cheated on me. Went out partying. The typical stuff someone of power does in most occasions.” Turning to her side, she takes the phone in between her hands, looking up the comedian’s name. “He’s a comedian. Eo Haseul. I don’t know if you know him but—”

“Yeah, I know about his comedy.” Mingyu’s frown deepens, extending one hand when leaning on the edge of the pool. “Isn’t he the guy who can only make sex jokes?”

“The one and only.” There it is, the video that Miyoung had been talking about, with over six hundred thousand views in four hours. Well, there goes her reputation. The title of his comedy set is shown there, but nothing else is added. “…We broke up before I left. He broke up with me, basically. Miyoung just called me to tell me he made a comedy set about me.”

“No way.” Mingyu whispers, leaning over her shoulder to be able to look at the loading screen.

“I mean, it shouldn’t be that bad, let’s see what he says.”

It was even worse than she had imagined.

Haseul, in what she had once thought was perfection, stares at the laughing crowd as his lips rest against the mic. His hair is sleeked back, thick eyebrows pursed together when he says: “And yeah, man, I learned last summer that you shouldn’t date a famous bitch. Or a semi-famous one. Normal, average women are fine but give someone some money and they think they can do whatever the fuck they please.” A few sets of laughter follow his statement, and he scoffs a bit for dramatics, trying to make himself sound more interesting. “I’m sure you guys know who I’m talking about, but…now that I’m out of that relationship, I can say that she was crazy. Eyes rolled to the back of her head, greedy as all shit, type of crazy.” He says, as if she is not human—as if she had not done everything in her power to make that toxic relationship work. “I would show you all the videos we had of each other fucking, but man, it’s just too crazy. I’d have to be filling all holes, even the bellybutton. When women are given power? They don’t get pleased by anything. I’d have to contort my body and shit, just to be able to make her moan for one second.”

Tears well up in her vision. The intimacy they had, exaggerated and highlighted for the world to see, torn to shreds because she is a woman with apparent power. Why is it that she can never have some source of happiness before it gets taken away from her?

“And the issues, man. God, I would have to hear her sigh on and on about her issues after sex. Just had my dick and she still had the time to think about how her rich, immaculate life was just not enough for her. See what I mean?”

Laughter, even though it’s not funny, people seem to enjoy it. Trying to turn the tables around, Haseul shrugs.

“I can’t even show you the videos because…I have to be honest, I’m not the biggest of men when it comes to that but—” For once, he targets himself, but the smirk on his face says he is not over with it. “It doesn’t matter. I have to cover my back. The bitch blocked me with the same hand she used to jerk me with.”

The subject changes, but her ears are ringing. Burning anger, impotence, and the tears that escape her eyes as she puts her phone down and rests her forehead against the tiles of the pool.

What was she thinking when she got with him?

“None of those things are true…” She whispers, covering her mouth as if to stop herself from talking. Mingyu, however, maneuvers his body to be able to wrap his arms around her. Her face rests against his chest, the cold skin touching hers, too afraid to look him in the eye. What will he think of her after watching that—?

“I know it’s not true.” Mingyu’s voice has turned serious, pulling away only to have her further pushing her face to his chest. “Do you have his number?”

Mind whirling, overheated, she hums. “I do, but I have it blocked.”

“Give it to me.”

“Mingyu—” Finally, she pulls away, bloodshot eyes staring up at him. “I’m tired of the problems around me. I’m absolutely done with people caring about my whereabouts and what I do. I don’t want more drama—”

“I just want to put him in his place.” Mingyu whispers, pushing her wet hair away from her face before breathing out a small: “Please?”

In the light of the pain caused, her lips are paralyzed, unable to connect her tongue to her mind in order to let some words out. Instead, she reaches for her phone, going through the contact list before seeing it:

Eo Hanseul (Do Not Respond).

Mingyu takes his own phone from her purse—he asked to have it there—, jotting down the numbers before bringing the device up to his ear. He gets out of the water, droplets following after his steps to be able to talk in private. Standing by the clear doors of the hallway, Hanseul seems to pick up his call, because his eyebrows furrow and he opens his mouth to speak.

Kim Mingyu doesn’t seem like the type of man to get angry, but he does that night.

Much of what he says is not understood, unable to disconnect her eyes from mixing the water of the pool with the waterfalls of her feelings, but Mingyu’s voice raises, speaks into the void when he says: “…I don’t care, man, you either grow some balls and start respecting her or you’ll have to have a talk with me.” Now, he seems much taller, buffer, as if his words may be able to deflate the softness of him. Rolling his tongue through his teeth, he hears to what the other man has to say, just as she’s getting out of the pool, only her calves pushed inside. “You think I’m some fool you can play with?”

Well, in comparison, Mingyu is much better than Hanseul. Less of a fighter, more of an empath. However, his Adam’s apple bobs up and down when he swallows, a frown taking over his features.

“You either take all the bullshit you’ve said back or I’ll make sure you pay for it, okay?!” Before Hanseul could retort, the man shakes his head. “I don’t know, release some statement, get your tongue up your ass, but you’ll never talk to her or about her ever again, understood?”

Then, the call comes to an end. Radio silence.

Mingyu puts his phone down, extending his arms just to say: “Come here.”

And she does cling to him, feeling his heartbeat against her eardrums as she cries someone else’s ignorance away.

Though, for Mingyu, the picture is different. “You’re more than whatever people judge you for. Don’t forget that.”

###

Act twenty-four. Twenty-fourth time performing the same character. The critics are getting worse.

Perhaps, it’s her fault. Seated on the wooden floor backstage, while wrapping her legs in bandages to be able to stand the aches, ignore the blossoming memories of the falls she has done while practicing, she sees the most destroyed person in the room staring at herself back in the mirror. Hyun looks way more tired than she did when they were practicing, curling her hand against her stomach—perhaps, suffering by the number of products she puts in her body to be able to keep herself energized—, eyes void of the glint of pertinence that had once coated them, bathed in shadows.

Once again, she takes another energy drink, and it’s about this time that she speaks out the certainty in the room. The one spoken secret that she whispers to herself at night. “I’m worried about you.”

Hyun stops at that moment, not even sparing her a glance, and the shutter of Mingyu’s camera comes to a halt when she finally outs the obvious. Hyun may not like her, but she was a fan of her before she even got here. Talented, she is, and her stomach must not be doing good by the number of energy drinks, caffeine and whatever else she has. Her stress is getting to her, cohabiting inside of her body.

The woman lifts her eyebrows, sucking her cheeks in when she says: “You don’t have to. I’ll be fine.”

“Even I’m not fine.” She confesses, standing up from the floor with wobbling legs. Too overworked. “Hyun, stop drinking this. If you aren’t sleeping or you can’t keep up, it’s okay. We’re here to help each other—”

When her hand comes forward to take the energy drink from her, Hyun pushes her body backwards, the anger in her features dissipating. “You don’t get it.”

“Of course, I do.” She says, only to have Hyun bitterly scoffing.

“Yeah, right.” She concludes, putting the can down before resting her slim hands on her hips. “If this musical keep going like it is, on its downfall, I won’t get any other chance to shine. I won’t get a starring role, and I will definitely see my dream die. You don’t go through that. You have a home to go to, and money to spend—”

An inexplicable feeling embargoes her. While Hyun had gained this position with hard work, a part of her existence there was just for publicity—and her mere presence is what is bringing the musical to its conclusion. “Hyun, I promise…you’re too talented to ever do shit wrong. You’ll get a chance when needed.”

“You don’t know that!” Hyun shouts, running her fingers through her hair before sighing. “Mind your business, okay? Stay out of my way, and stop playing the victim here. I’m fine. I just need to practice more.”

“Go home, Hyun.” She tries to reason, taking the woman by the forearms. “I know you hate my guts, and I would, too, if I were you…but please, just…rest for tonight. The show’s over. We can go home.”

“You do this because you don’t want me to practice so you can be better than me, huh?”

Shaking her head, she tries to reason with her. “I would never. Really. I’m over that.”

“Who are you kidding? Yourself or me?” Hyun questions, taking the filled energy-drink can before tossing it in the nearby trashcan. “Happy now?”

“Hyun—”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go home.”

Her body brushes against hers when passing by her, the clicking of her shoes a sound that she doesn’t want to ignore. Hyun, in that moment, becomes a heroine to her. Image of hardships and hard work, someone who would rather tire herself out than disappointing her vision of herself. Perhaps, she had judged everything wrongly, imagined herself to be this immaculate being that did not deserve to be hurt.

No one does. Hyun didn’t either.

Mingyu accompanies her outside, like he always does, ready to go out with her after another show. However, as the wind bites her arms under her dark denim jacket and the taxis pass by them, ready to be called by her, she feels his hand resting over her shoulder, turning around to look at him. Peaceful, yet worried.

Tugging at the sleeves of his pink sweater, the strands of his hair swirling against his forehead with the movement of the breezy night, Mingyu admits: “I think you need to drop out of this musical. Kaleigh does not care about any of you.”

That much she knows. The leader, the director, only cares about the image she wants to portray of the character, not about the actors that play them. Still, letting go would mean going back home…and back home, she’d go back to the same routine. “What if I don’t find another chance to be on the stage?”

Mingyu sighs. “You and Hyun aren’t so different after all.” The more she sees herself projected in that vanity backstage, the more she sees herself turning into Hyun. Though talented, a portion of herself will get lost down this path. The one that hopes for a happy ending. “Sometimes, we have to realize that what we dream of is not always going to be our reality. And this is not to tell you your dream is not valid, because it is, but the more you stay here…the more it will hurt you to leave. You deserve better than what Kaleigh is giving you, and even if you end up with a small role in some show, or get back on stage again…you’re still you.”

“Well, maybe I’m tired of being me.” She replies, letting her weight lean against the side of his body, his arm cradling her shoulders, eyes looking down at her while she connects her gaze with his, down to his lips.

“I like you.” Mingyu rasps out, though, if he knew where she lived…what she saw…what she knew about his past, would he still be open about those words? “Please, never stop being you.”

She thinks, at this moment in her life, she’ll never stop being his. Yours, she wants to tell him, even if this doesn’t work out, my soul will always be yours.

Though, she fears. What if he isn’t hers? Though he wasn’t hers at the beginning of it all, she kept seeking—

And now, mere centimeters away, with his lips parted, she has him. Breaths mingling when she softens her lips against his, drapes a silent confession that she can’t quite get out without feeling guilty. If he knew more about her, perhaps, he wouldn’t like her. The issues of not knowing how to differentiate what people perceive of her and what she perceives herself, but right now, as she’s with him, she likes who she is. Her truest version, delicate, not aching to feel more, to have more of him, just letting their lips meet softly, knowingly, as if she knows every portion of him and yet, to him, she’s only a shadow.

Her arm hooks around his neck, tilting her body to the side to taste more of him, relishing on his perfume, his hands, the way he always seems to make her feel unique, and not to outcast her, but to blend her into the groups of people that fall for each other. The romanticism that falls into monotony, but it’s oh-so-perfect in its own way.

“That’s my answer for you.” She replies when pulling away, awestruck brown eyes blinking back at her when she smiles.

I like you too, Mingyu.

###

When looking at Mingyu, she would have never believed their first official date would come in the shape of a rock concert. Much less would she have imagined that, upon entering Mingyu’s apartment, much smaller than the house he once shared with Yoona, he’d have collectables of memories that he doesn’t have the time to explain, rushing to get out the door and get to the concert. A local band that she has no idea about, but try their hardest to leave their imprint in this world.

Kissing in cars is how the date ends. In some taxi, with sneaky touches and stolen kisses that promise for a better night. Hazed in his smile, in the tight black shirt that clads his body and the way his big hand splays across her thigh, claiming a portion of her body as his. After a month, even more, of seeing each other, Mingyu feels closer than ever, seated on a portion of her heart as if it is his throne, and it may be. A King of Hearts, as she likes to call him.

The band t-shirt he had bought when getting out of the venue rests over her body, halfway pushed inside his jeans as she twists her head to the side and rests fleeting kisses on the side of his neck. His Adam’s apple bobs, a sharp intake of his breath coming with the tightening hold on her tight.

“Something you should know…” He starts, only to have her humming, teeth digging into the skin of his neck as she hums. “I—I’m not really patient, you know?” His voice wavers, enough to have her chuckling when she pulls away from him and rests a kiss on his shoulder.

“I’ve noticed. Quite childish if you ask me.”

“It’s hard to be patient when you’re around.” She looks at him from the corner of her eye, smiling.

“I’ll have to teach you how to wait, huh?”

Though, when Mingyu had gotten on that taxi, she had not thought about the address she gave. The taxi driver parks outside, thanked by Mingyu as he gives him counted bills and gets out of the yellow car. Much to her distaste, however, when she gets off as well, Mingyu is staring ahead at the white house that had once been shared with the love of his life—

Yoona.

The woman who almost married him.

The one person he had never talked about.

Mingyu opened up about a lot of portions of his live. Childhood. Cousins. Parents. Music. Photography. Collections. Love from teenage years, but Yoona was never touched. Never talked about. She never pushed it, knowing better than getting that information out of him, but when she stands by his side, watching his face turn somber, he softly asks:

“You live here?”

Warning signs appear inside her head, blaring red lights leaving her with no emergency exits. The line has cut short, no longer letting her lie to him in order to keep her secret intact. She knew him before he actually knew her, and she had thought of him as charming then. “Mingyu, yes. I didn’t want to tell you because—”

“Wait, why wouldn’t you want to tell me?” His face turns towards her, and she knows at that moment that she had fucked up. He had not assumed that she knew anything, only asked absentmindedly as memories flashed before his eyes. “Do you know something I don’t?”

She swallows thickly. She could lie to him, come up with lines and improvise, but Mingyu is one of those people that doesn’t deserve that. Instead, she tugs at the collar of the t-shirt on her body, sighing deeply. “Listen,” She starts. “When I got here, I found a box that said ‘throw away’ and it had a bunch of CD’s inside…”

Mingyu pulls back at that moment, shaking his head. “No—”

“And I watched them. You were in all of them with your ex…Yoona.” She whispers, looking over to the side, watching the house that had both introduced her to the person she feels like she is falling for, and that may take him away at that moment. “I didn’t want to pry, I swear. I just…I just did and I kept on watching because of you, and destiny did its thing and it brought us together at the bar, and with you as my musical’s photographer.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mingyu asks, and she comes up with nothing. Because she didn’t want for him to close up with her, of course. “You knew more about him than I knew about you, and you didn’t even think about giving those CD’s to me…or just…or just tell me that she had kept them there!”

“Well, I just didn’t want you to think I was stalking you or something. It was all a coincidence!” She replies, only to have Mingyu running his hands through his hair, chuckling at the sky before groaning deeply.

“That’s my privacy!”

“Well, it’s not like I knew it was private before!” She argues back, frowning at him. “Besides, why is it so deep for you? You know about Haseul, why does it matter if I know that you almost married Yoona? It’s not like I’m jealous of a woman of your past—”

“Because you have no idea how long it took me to get over her!” Mingyu replies, voice rising, chest heaving. Then, a pout takes over his features as he explains himself, retreating the tone of voice he had just taken up on.

“If you’d let me know what happened, maybe I could understand—”

“Turns out I had a toxic relationship. She wanted me to be her little puppet, make her fantasy come true of a perfect man, and a perfect family, and possibly a…I don’t know…a social media presence where we showed how perfect we are but…I’m not perfect.” He breathes out, biting his bottom lip as he looks at her. “Can you blame me for not wanting to remember all the turmoil I went through because of her?”

“You can just not talk about it if that’s the case. I don’t mind. But you can tell me about these things—” She entices. “I’m not going to judge you, Mingyu. Our pasts are there for a reason—”

“Don’t give me that.” Mingyu answers, smile lines intensified by the purse of his lips. “You always say you want to change your past, to start again, to not remember—”

“But my past and my mistakes made me meet you!” She exclaims. “I can’t turn back time and change things because, maybe, I wouldn’t have met you if that was the case. I like you, Mingyu, almost married or not. I like you for who you are and who you were.”

“If you liked me so much, you could’ve just told me.” Mingyu mumbles, blinking softly.

“…I was afraid, okay? I get to be afraid, too. Just as you were.”

Mingyu falls silent for a second, deep in thought, walking backwards as he says: “I—I just need some time, okay? I get you, but I need…I need to process this.”

She tries to go after him, shaking her head. “Mingyu, don’t do that. We have to talk about this. I didn’t mean to remind you of a bad time—”

“Just…burn that fucking box and…and I’ll talk to you about it later, okay?” Mingyu whispers out, goosebumps going up her arms when she watches him go. Never had she seen him so shattered, hands shaking as he remembers that one portion of his life he never wanted back.

He had seemed so in love.

And now, he can’t fall in love as easily.

Yet, a new beginning is necessary, so when she retreats to her home, she picks up a lighter, walking far down the street with the box in hand to light it up.

The past makes who they are, but it doesn’t define them. From now on, she is the only one that can decide her future, and so can Mingyu for his own life.

###

“Care to tell me why you ruined every single one of my pictures?”

Last show, but Kaleigh doesn’t know it. Just as she’s applying another layer of purple onto her eye, as if to indicate the bruises from her character, Mingyu speaks to her. Over one week of not talking to each other, texts going ignored, time asked whenever they meet, and she has met more than the middle of the situation. Now she wants to go forward, know more of him than of herself, movement more eccentric in order to fuck up his work.

If that’s what it takes to get his attention…

She shrugs her shoulders, patting the makeup sponge against her eye. If he doesn’t want to talk, she won’t talk either. “Just some new dance moves. I added some popping because the character felt like it needed it.” It’s utter bullshit, and the way Jaehyo snorts from his spot tells her that no one believes her. Even Hyun seems to chuckle at her antics, Mingyu’s lost expression mirrored in the vanity.

“Bullshit.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Kim, I don’t think you can talk to the cast like that.” She answers, mischief painted on her face when she connects her gaze with his through the mirror.

Scoffing, he says: “You didn’t think that when you ruined all my shots from yesterday’s night.”

The makeup sponge now rests against the table, her fingers interlocked as she talks to him through the mirror. Today, Mingyu props some pink sunglasses on his head, a leather jacket placed on top of a white t-shirt. “I’m sure they look fine, Mr. Kim. They always do.”

“They’re all blurry.”

“My apologies. You may have to take some pictures tonight, then.”

“…If you even let me. You’re moving around like you have pinworms.”

“Oh my God!” Sue says from her spot, elbows pressing to the back of her chair to be able to look at the scenery. “Is this a pre-marital issue?”

“I think so.” Jaehyo conquers, but she only throws a look at them.

“He’s the one that doesn’t want to talk to me.” She says, standing up from her spot to be in front of Mingyu, in all his glory, staring back at her with a stoic expression. “So…in order to get his attention, I had to find other ways to do it.”

Mingyu breathes out softly, staring around the room before wrapping his hand around her arm. “You want to talk? Let’s do it in private.”

The storage room in which they had met initially, memory of the umbrella that she hit against his head, now becomes the spot for them to meet in. Far more cramped than she remembers it for, with a tiny chair that Mingyu used to take up on to check his pictures. The man in question locks the reddened door behind him, giving one step forward and hence, ending up pressed to her body, hands placed on his own hips when he asks:

“You have something to say? Speak.”

Maybe, she had tried the worst of ways to get his attention. Annoyance, for once, is not something that pairs up with Mingyu’s face in most occasions. Yet, she finally gets to hear his voice. Angered. Cut short. Yet, unknowing of the reality that breathes through her pores.

“I’m sorry…for not telling you I had seen those videos. It was your privacy and I shouldn’t have looked, but after I did, I should’ve told you and given them to you to get rid of them. I did, but yeah…” Her voice falls into a softened tone, looking into his brown irises, down to his straight nose, a few speckles of facial hair on top of his lip, barely noticeable and those rose-colored lips that she has been missing for the past week. All of him, really, from his voice to his thoughts, to the impatience that takes over him. “Mingyu, I would never judge you for your past. Not when you weren’t the one at fault. We all make mistakes and I don’t think any less of you for being naïve enough to involve yourself in that situation. I like you with or without Yoona in your life. If you want to talk about it, I’ll accept it…if you don’t—”

“I want to talk about it.” Mingyu says, breathing out in a way that has the warmth of him touching her lips. His chest expands, flush against her breasts, when he explains his truth. “I met Yoona when I was seventeen. She was friends with Seungkwan, a friend of mine, and he got us in this blind date thingy because…I don’t know, I was bored, I wanted a date.” He shrugs, though his eyes show that he really cares. “So, we started a relationship…and we started living together soon enough. I didn’t care. I worked two jobs, all to be able to move from our apartment to a bigger house, and then she got other jobs…and we made it. She said she wanted to have a family soon, that she’d start recording us…whatever. You know that part.” His life seemed so much easier than what he described, but that’s just what the video-camera showed. “Turns out that she got out of all her jobs, expected me to pay for everything, and lived the most exotic of lifestyles. If I ever told her we couldn’t buy something, she’d take it out on me…” Mingyu sighs, shaking his head in the process. “We’d fight all the time, but I loved her, so I proposed. Turns out that it didn’t work, and I cut off the engagement the morning of our wedding.”

“As you should have…” She elongates, only to have Mingyu chuckling darkly.

“Yeah. I was reassured that it was a good decision when three days later she started dating a famous YouTube guy and she started vlogging for real.”

“I’m so sorry, Mingyu.” With all the sincerity she can muster, locked away in the depths of her heart only for him to see, she sighs. “…You deserve better.”

“I know I do.” He finalizes. Looking down at her lips before smiling softly. “Glad we sorted that out.”

“Sorted that out? I acted like a spoiled brat just to get your attention. I’m sorry for that, too—”

“Ah, don’t worry.” Mingyu replies, wrapping his arms around her waist before pressing her back to the wall. The dry paint clings to her clothing, rubs against it when his fingers rub against her skin over the fabric. “You always have my attention, even if you ruin my pictures in purpose just to get me to talk to you. I needed some time, that’s all.”

“Yeah…I’m so sorry.”

Mingyu doesn’t utter another word, lips conjoining in a smile before they rest over her own. Much of the like of the type of kisses they had shared in that taxi ride, hands folding the fabric of her clothing when he brings her clothing, breathing against her skin as he slowly takes over the kiss. His lips part, his left hand going down to his hips, towards her thigh before lifting it over, pulling their bodies closer when he settles himself between her legs, head turned to the side just as her fingers rake through his hair.

He doesn’t care. Doesn’t mind having his hair messy, his camera pushed away from his neck and put carefully to the side as she continues kissing him. Though, he does care about her, only pulling away to ask: “How many minutes you have until you go up the stage?”

Staring at the clock on the wall, she breathes against his lips. “Like thirty minutes.”

“May I…?” Mingyu asks, eyes joining desire with worry, pressing his hips forward, abdomen contracting when her hand caresses his jaw, touches his neck and lets her thumb rub over the column of his throat.

“…Of course, Mingyu.”

It’s not the most romantic of places, but it happens with a soul she doesn’t want to exchange. For once, his name becomes a poem, and she will never find a rhyme better than him.

###

Two set of judgmental eyes watch her as she slides the folded piece of paper in her hands towards Kaleigh. Always sporting an all-black outfit, those glasses that hide the malice in her gaze, and before her lips could part to utter one of her simplistic sentences, she bathes on the glow of getting out of her last show. Of trying her best, and yet, not having the best outcome.

“It’s over.” She says, sighing deeply with joined lips as she rests her hands in the depths of her jeans’ pockets. “I don’t want to be part of this musical anymore. Thank you for the opportunity, but I feel as though I don’t fit this team…or your vision of me, whatsoever.”

There, while the rest of the team are taking off their makeups, getting rid of their clothing, children bustling around, overexcited from the sceneries, Kaleigh is speechless. Hyun, on one hand, steps forward, eyes widened.

“She can’t leave.” Turning to her, she shakes her head. “You can’t leave, you’re one of the main characters.”

“I don’t think I will continue down a path of happiness if I stay here. My mental health comes first, and Kaleigh can’t bring me that as a director.” She adds, pointing at the paper in between Kaleigh’s hands, still unopened. “Right there, you can see my resignation letter. I don’t want to be part of this team anymore, and Kaleigh can choose to talk badly about me as an actress if she so pleases.”

Kaleigh scoffs from her spot, nodding at what she says. “Of course, I will. How unprofessional do you have to be to leave the musical like this?”

What hurts her the most is leaving her cast. Leaving her character, ever, that wants to give out such an important message about the reality people live. Instead, she has to let go. Better opportunities will come for a dream that is not yet set in stone. “Very. But I think it’s the best decision.” Pushing herself away from the situation, she starts walking away from the stage. Her home, really, but one that will fall to shambles if she doesn’t leave now.

She doesn’t expect to hear someone’s voice then. “We need you.” Mixed with her name, Hyun speaks. The woman that hates her the most, yet, when turning around, seems to look at her with a plea in her brown eyes. She smiles, because Hyun deserves it. The woman is given, that much she can say.

“You don’t.” She answers, sighing deeply. “The stage needs you, but it doesn’t need me. As long as you keep this story alive, I can be replaced. That, you don’t have to worry about—”

“But you won the audition—”

“No, it was given to me.” Truthfully, the more she thought about it, the more she realized Kaleigh never wanted her there for her talent. “And I don’t want to be there for publicity. I don’t need that pressure on me. So, the real talent should stay.”

With that, she turns around, giving the last few steps until the coldness of the night bites at her skin.

Seated on the sidewalk, Mingyu rummages through his phone, unaware of her presence as he listens to music with his earphones plugged in. The cars pass by, gray concrete matching his dark outfit. Just a few hours earlier, she had seen him without him, but not sedated yet, she kneels until she is hugging him from behind, pressing a kiss to his cheek and humming in delight at the heat of his body.

Not hers. A person can’t be hers. And though he isn’t hers, she doesn’t mind it.

Mingyu takes off one of his earphones, turning around to look at her and asking a silent question with his eyes.

“What?” She puzzles, only to have Mingyu widening his eyes.

“How did it go?”

“Badly. It hurts.” Her heart aches at the idea of not getting another chance, giving all her might into acting tonight…and perhaps, the only night that she will get to act again. “But it’s what I had to do. I’m going to find a better opportunity later on.”

His smile widens, leaning forward to steal a kiss from her lips before joining his free hand with the ones conjoined over his stomach. “I’m so proud of you.”

“If you’re so proud, let me invite you to dinner.” Standing up, she watches as he follows after her steps.

“Let me pay for once!” He whines, only to see her shaking her head.

“Nope. I’m your designated sugar mommy.”

“You’re totally not.” Mingyu denies, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

“Come on, let me live the dream.”

Though, hers will remain paused for now…until a better chance comes about. A real one, perhaps.

###

Bad news always come like a train-wreck. Life is silent for a second, too eerily silent, and the moment she opens her eyes, everything is shattered. This time around, it wasn’t any different. Seated on the counter, Mingyu working on making a set of pancakes, taking his precious time on heating them to utter perfection, she doesn’t think anything when turning on her phone. If anything, she is staring forward, at the way Mingyu’s back muscles contract with the movements of his arms.

Kim Mingyu has this magic of appearing in someone’s life and never giving the person the benefit of asking themselves if they want him to leave. She doesn’t, and that’s factual. A little above a month after she left her job at the musical, she has tried to avoid all contact with everyone from her cast—from Jaehyo to Sue, obviously with Hyun, trying her hardest to show to her family and friends back at home that she can stay here and fulfill a dream. So far, nothing has worked.

But Mingyu has.

Not spoken into the night but fallen into place, Mingyu spends more time at her place than he does on his, giving a piece of his heart to her, while he has all of hers. With each passing day, the comfort of him becomes the sunlight of her days, though the clouds seem to gather in her personal life. Mingyu finds gigs, but the tabloids have forgotten about her after the viral video of her past relationship.

This time around, the headlines in her phone—from the notifications of her favorite magazine—inform her something more.

Han Hyun dies while practicing for new musical. Doctors confirm gastrointestinal bleeding.

When standing up, the chair falls behind her. Fear. Petrification. Perhaps, regret. Hyun had so much life within her—a pulsating need to be the best, and she was. Then, stress took up all of her life. So young, yet now not existing in the same world as them.

The room seems to rotate by the time Mingyu speaks her name into the dense air. “Hey, what happened?” He moves towards her, but she gives a few steps back, uttering the words that hurt her just by hearing them.

“Hyun died.”

One never really thinks about an enemy dying. A rival, really. The fear starts to become palpable when people think of their loved ones dying, but when it comes to someone that they can’t stand…it almost seems favorable. To have them away from this world. Yet, she can’t even utter another word, entering her room and throwing herself into the bed. The sheets are crumpled between her palms, tears blinding her vision as she thinks of all the times, she bumped hands with Hyun.

She was so talented.

It almost felt like she had to take care of her. Each and every single time she told her to mind her own business, she never did.

The door opens softly, her name called once again, though she doesn’t want to listen. Never has she liked Mingyu seeing her crying, but at this point, when he rests his weight next to her on the bed, his elbow resting adjacent to her body as he horizontally leans his weight on her back, she can’t help but let out a little weep.

“Hey…” His fingers trail down her spine, speaking softly. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” She turns around, hair done a mess as she stares into his eyes, trying to stop the hiccups that shake her frame. “She had so much to give, and look at what happened to her. I couldn’t even—I don’t know, say goodbye to her?”

“You don’t have to think about what you didn’t do.” Mingyu replies after a few seconds of silence, bringing his body forward until he is hovering over her, kissing the tears away before pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “…You can only think about what you’re going to do now. Not take people for granted. Get to know people better. Avoid rivalries. That’s all you can do.”

Staring up at him, she realizes one thing. One day, we’re here, the other, we’re not. We don’t belong to anyone—not even ourselves—, but to the world instead. Life plays with us like marionettes, puts us in places that we think we can never get out of, but the road ahead is so much more surprising. Living in a labyrinth, looking for people who understood her, new beginnings and thrilling stories, she found someone. A person that she doesn’t want to lose, and someone whom hasn’t heard the truth. The full and heart-wrenching truth.

Because Mingyu is there. Belongs to the universe, and never to her. One day, anything could happen. He could get tired, bored, could simply move on and call it quits. He could come home one day and say that he doesn’t want to be with her anymore. But now, as his sleepy gaze stares at her with worry, she realizes that she doesn’t want him to belong to her. She wants to be with him. Aches and desires to spill her truth out and enjoy him for the time that life plants him there for her to enjoy.

May the flowers bloom of the seeds her words leave. They could die, but they will get to grow first.

“…I have to tell you something. Before it’s too late to actually say it…” She mumbles, rubbing her eyes and her nose, sniffling softly before looking into his eyes. There has always been this understanding in him, even when he doesn’t always say the proper thing—as if he knows, deep within him, that they understand each other. That no matter how many times mistakes settle on their hearts, they know their deepest intentions. “It may be too soon for you and I know I said I’d wait until you’re ready but—”

“I love you.” He says it first, aware, not shying away, savoring the taste on the roof of his mouth before stealing another kiss away from her lips. “I don’t want to wait. Good things can’t wait.”

He always said he wasn’t the most patient, but perhaps, she was the one that would wait a thousand years just to have him.

There is not an exact reason that she can think of as to why he would love her. Why, out of all things, Mingyu would open up his heart again—and why she does, too. They have been broken, but they grew two new, stronger hearts. Not fixing the old ones, but helping each other craft a new organ. One where he made a home for her, and she has made a throne for him.

“I love you and I want you to know that I’m here for you. For anything. Whatever you need me for.” He breathes out, rubbing his fingers on her cheek before looking down at her. “…If it wasn’t that what you were going to tell me, I’m sorry. Again, my second name is dumbass so—”

“I love you, too, Mingyu.” She tries to chuckle through the tears, though her bottom lip pouts out and Mingyu sighs deeply, wrapping his arms around her and relishing her with a kiss.

Though love is not perfect, it’s much better to meet in the middle. Two people who will either end up together forever, or for whatever long ever decides to stay. Never can be an option, too, but she knows that whatever the outcome is, Mingyu is the one portion of her past that she would never want to forget.

And it’s time for her to learn that the hours of the life clock are ticking, and she wants to spend all of them with him.

#mingyu scenarios #mingyu #seventeen scenarios #seventeen #kpop scenarios #writing #seventeen au #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #mingyu au #mingyu fluff #mingyu angst #photographer!au #musical actress!Au #this is such a slowburn fic like lord help me #also i've had this idea since last year and didn't know who to write it for but #mingyu seemed fitting so #here goes

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lumosinlove · 3 years

Text

Between Fifth And You

AO3

chapter two

It’s Saturday night for Manhattan’s elite, and we know what that means. The Noble House of Black beckons, and one particularly family seems to be a little behind on preparations—at least, their youngest son is.

Spotted—Logan Tremblay, looking hot in nothing but basketball shorts. Better soak up that fading blue August heat while you can, Lo. Or are you more interested in something a little more…fiery? But in the LES? Why so far from home, Dorothy? Eye color isn’t the only thing green about the Tremblay family. And they have a bad habit of sorting everything out with a little help from Ben Franklin.

“Shoot, shoot!”

Logan pivoted on his heel and was able to toss the ball around his opponent’s shoulder. He only caught a glimpse of red hair as Finn caught it with ease and jumped it up to the rim.

Finn O’Hara. One of these days Logan was going to step on his own shoes watching Finn O’Hara. His pale chest looked like sugar dusting, his exertion-red cheeks the goddamn cherry.

“Point moo-oi!” Finn shouted, slapping Will Morgan and Percy Marshall on their bare backs. “That’s how you say it, right, Tremblay?”

Logan feigned a shudder. “Non.”

“Shorty’s got game,” Will laughed, sweat dripping down his dark brown skin, darkening the leather bracelets he wore.

Percy shook his head, swallowing over a caught-breath, his silver Star of David swinging at his throat. “Shorty must be cheating with his Upper Side shoes.”

Logan just narrowed his eyes and laughed, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “You’re just tall. Doesn’t mean you’re good.”

“Yeah, yeah, Mazel tov, you fucker.”

“I’m finally winning,” Finn grinned. “And now I gotta get back to the shop. I said be back in five…pretty sure it’s been fifty-five.”

Logan swallowed. “I’ll—I’ll walk you.”

Percy slapped him on the back as they left, and Finn held the cage door of the basketball court open for him.

“So, you’re back at school?” Finn asked as he pulled his shirt on. Logan nodded, following suit, picking at the neck where it stuck to his sweaty skin.

“Yeah,” Logan nodded. “I’m supposed to be getting fitted for a suit right now.”

Finn snorted. “What does that have to do with school?”

“Oh,” the corner of Logan’s mouth raised as he realized. “Nothing, I…well, you know. The social scene. It sort of all feels like one thing, up there.”

Finn pouted at him. “Poor baby. Too many parties.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Logan laughed.

“Hey, feel like lunch?”

“I thought you had to be back.”

Finn shrugged. “I’m hungry.”

Logan bit his lip, wondering how many different ways his older sisters could actually kill him. Honestly, he thought he’d just die on the spot of he passed up the change to be squeezed into one of the small restaurants that Finn frequented. Screw the grand tables of his life. Logan wanted cracked leather booths small enough to let their ankles brush. Not that he’d ever say that out loud.

Finn didn’t disappoint. They walked down the shade of Mott street, then turned at a bakeshop on the corner. Finn pointed at it.

“You’ve been here, haven’t you?”

Logan raised a shoulder. “I don’t get down here much.”

Finn snorted. “Listen to you. Down here. You’re down here enough to pop into my bookstore all the time.”

Logan studied the cakes in the windows, biting his lip when he realized Finn’s eyes were still on him in the reflection. “I…yeah.”

Finn flicked the bill of Logan’s hat which shaded the back of his neck. “How’s that latest book you bought?”

Logan turned away from the window to get them walking again, not sure where they were going but trusting Finn to lead. “I’m starting school, man, I don’t have all the time in the world.”

Finn just laughed. “Come on, let’s catch the 6.”

Logan found himself squeezed into a tiny French restaurant in the West Village that served them even tinier croissants.

“I know the chef,” Finn said popping one he had spread jam and butter on into his mouth. “Dumo. Don’t pay a cent. I fucking love these things.”

Logan would have bought Finn a thousand of the tiny pastries without a blink just to see him lick a bit of jam from his thumb again.

“Dumo doesn’t sound very French…” Logan began cutting up his waffle.

Finn laughed. “Pascal Dumais does.”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s more like it.”

Logan glanced at a woman and her baby, who had started crying. He tried to think of something to say. For someone who’s job seemed to be making small talk at various parties and charming people with his accent—or so his mother sometimes said—he sure was horrible at it.

“So, what’s the suit for?” Finn asked, taking a sip of his black coffee.

“A fashion show,” Logan sighed, hiding his surprise—and maybe delight—at Finn’s unknowing shrug. “It’s…sort of a lot. Lots of people and cameras. And I always have to wear something green.”

Finn hummed in understanding. “It’s the eyes, yeah?”

Logan nodded. “A lot of fast English, too.”

Finn tilted his head. “I didn’t know that was hard for you. You’re perfect.”

Logan tried not to flush and covered it with a shrug. “I lived in France until I was fifteen before we finally moved to my dad. It’s still nice to be able to read lips sometimes. With the flashes and they make it super dark…I don’t know.”

“No, that makes sense,” Finn said, brown eyes soft. He smiled. “Hey, well, if you don’t want to go to the fitting, come man the shop with me. I’d love the company.”

Logan looked at him and ached, but saw his older sister Noelle’s pleading, excited expression in his mind. He might not love the scene, but he loved his sisters. “I wish I could. Really.”

They finished up their food and Logan had to admit that he lingered over his coffee until Finn said he absolutely had to leave.

“Hey, Tremblay,” Finn called from down the sidewalk, and Logan turned in the full knowledge that seeing the smile Finn sent him would only make him want to stay more.

The dutiful son wants the bookshop boy…I don’t know, Lo. How will their royal highnesses feel about that?

“Come buy more books you don’t read soon, okay?”

Logan couldn’t help but smile back. “D’accord.”

Finn walked backwards a few steps, yelling, “And bring me something green!” before turning and jogging down the subway stairs.

Logan laughed as he called his driver to him, escaping the heat for air conditioned leather.

XOXO

Pearls or diamonds, Upper Siders? Armani or Ralph? What, like you have other questions tonight?

Well, I have one for you. A tip from a friendly scroller gave me a peak at tonight’s guest list. Do you think we’re in for more than just a showdown on the runway? Cat fights over cat walks is what I always say.

XOXO.

[Image description: Two name cards reading, from left to right, Leo Knut and Remus Lupin, Sirius Black and Sebastian Montague]

Remus found Julian already dressed and tapping at a game on his phone when he descended the winding staircase of their penthouse.

“You waiting for mom and dad?” Remus said, dropping a kiss to the top of his head.

“And you,” Julian said.

“Right, right,” Remus smoothed his black tuxedo, trying to ignore the subtle glint of blue-silver embroidered into the black velvet. His mother was a planner—which Remus liked usually—but this design had not aged well. This suit had a twin that it no longer belonged with. Remus clenched his jaw as he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He’d hoped wearing it would feel like defiance.

But it only felt like he was lonely. He gave his head a hard shake. He had Leo. He couldn’t let New York throw him.

“Gossip Girl’s going crazy. Of course,” Julian said.

“Jules, you shouldn’t read that stuff,” Remus sighed. “It’s just gossip—”

“Just posted about Sirius,” Julian murmured.

Remus huffed, pushing his hair out of its too neat style in the mirror. “So?”

Julian shrugged, but pointedly looked away when Remus took out his own phone.

The photo looked like one from the paparazzi, but the sight of Sirius on the red carpet made Remus’ throat close up.

I spy a statement piece. Or maybe it’s just a statement. Sirius Black arrives on the red carpet—or should I say black carpet—with none other than New York’s favorite icon, in worship and fashion alike. The Saint of these streets is looking particularly dashing tonight, hand in hand with the heir of this city. Ouch, Re. Looks like you’ve been dethroned.

Remus stared down at the screen, neck hot. Sirius’ suit sleeves had the barely there leather half moon cut-outs that Remus remembered tracing onto his skin.

Sirius had smiled into their kiss. Think anyone will notice?

Remus had just laughed. Everyone will notice.

But there was Saint, a crown of moonstones in his golden hair.

Remus looked down at his own suit. Of course Saint had thought of a way they’d match, that was all it was, but it still felt like a snub.

“I sort of miss him,” Julian said quietly.

Remus’ heart pulled. He swallowed and clicked his phone off. He looked at Julian, who looked almost sheepish.

“Do you?” Julian asked even more quietly.

“Don’t you like Leo?” Remus asked.

“Of course,” Julian nodded quickly. “But…”

“Remus,” Hope smiled, coming down the stairs arm-in-arm with their father. “Jules. Ready, boys?”

Remus didn’t think saying no was an option. He cleared his throat, pushed his hair back.

“Almost,” he said, backtracking towards the stairs. “Just a second. Gotta call Leo, make sure he hasn’t left yet.”

XOXO

“We can watch a livestream of the red carpet and the show,” Natalie said. “Sit.”

Finn groaned, squished beside Natalie on her tiny sofa. “That feels like I’m stalking him.”

“We’re allowed to stalk the boys we like.”

“You’re dating my brother, Nat. Does this mean you stalked him?”

“It really does,” Alex said, coming in from the kitchen with their margaritas and dropping a kiss to Natalie’s temple.

“Hm,” Natalie smiled up at him, accepting a kiss to her lips. “Scruffy.”

Finn sighed and pulled a knee up to his chest, watching the loading video Natalie had pulled up.

“Your wifi sucks,” he mumbled.

“It’ll load,” Natalie scooted over for Alex and passed Finn his drink.

“Salsa, too,” Finn said, waving it over.

Finally, the video popped up to a view of the red carpet.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Alex said.

“Be nice,” Natalie laughed. “It’s fashion!”

“Look,” Alex sighed. “I know they’re wealthy and it’s suppose to be all, I don’t know sandy beaches and wristwatches, but not a single one of these people look remotely happy. Like take a look at this guy—“

Finn looked over the sandy-haired man posing in front of the cameras—well, not posing, really. Kasey Winter, the commentators were saying.

“Nice hair,” Natalie crunched on a chip. “And listen to that, his mother’s one of the biggest producers at Weird Sisters Records.”

“Fine, but he looks like he’s ready to kill someone. I mean, anyone else think its kind of fucked up that the New York families go to a New York university where New York businesses draw from New York’s elite?”

“Yes,” Finn and Natalie said in unison.

And then there was Logan.

Finn let out an embarrassing sound and set his drink down, leaning forward.

Logan walked out in front of the cameras with three girls—his sisters, Finn remembered. Not to mention he followed all of them on Instagram. They had a lot of shoes, sure, but they seemed all right.

“I saw this thing on Gossip Girl about one of the sisters,” Natalie said. “She—”

“Nat, why the hell do you read that?”

Natalie shot him a look. “Like you don’t.”

Finn ignored them, too focused on the dark, nearly black, velvety green cape—or was it cloak?—that covered Logan’s shoulders down to above his elbows, falling to an elegant point at the small of his back over his black suit. The sisters had a similar get-up in one way or another—a green train, a shawl, a corset. Logan’s clasp was a silver fleur-de-lis.

“Green,” Finn breathed.

“What?” Alex asked.

Finn bit the inside of his cheek at Logan’s expression. It was meant to be blank, Finn thought, at-ease and untouchable, but it came off almost enticing. His dark eyelashes swept against his cheeks. Finn watched his throat bob around a swallow, his adored eyes shifting from flash to flash.

“Nothing,” Finn answered his brother.

“How’d you meet this kid anyway, Fish?” his brother asked.

“I was closing up shop about a month ago,” Finn said. “And he stopped at one of our windows. Looked like he’d run the entire island, he was breathing so hard. Not to mention it was pouring like nothing else. Thought he was gonna pass out, so I unlocked the door and let him in to get dry. I don’t know, he was kind of shy at first. Listened to me talk for about an hour before he started giving anything back.” Finn shrugged, watching Logan walk off screen. “I invite him to play basketball with me, Morg, and Percy now. We get lunch after sometimes.”

Natalie sighed. “He looked like one unhappy camper.”

“I think his family puts a lot of pressure on him. He’s the baby. Only son. All that bullshit.”

“I kind of want that cape,” Natalie said.

Alex sighed. “That’s the idea.”

Natalie slapped his chest, then kissed his cheek, and Finn watched Logan walk off-screen.

XOXO

“What say you, Capulet?”

Sirius looked down at Saint at his shoulder. “They’re out of crab puffs.”

“Boo,” Saint said. “You still closing the show?”

“Yep.”

“Shouldn’t you be in hair and makeup?”

“Yep.”

Saint stepped in front of him, the gold band of moonstones nestled in his curls glinting in the dark stage lights. “Looking for someone?”

Sirius just reached out and ran a gentle thumbnail beneath where Saint’s golden eyeliner had smudged against his brown skin, striking it back to a point. “Nope. See you after the show.”

Saint clucked his tongue. “I’m unimpressed.”

“What else is new?” Sirius said.

Saint went to smile, when his eyes flickered behind Sirius and he raised his eyebrows. “That.”

Sirius turned around, and quickly schooled his expression. The cameras were going wild, and in front of all the flashing lights was Remus, hand-in-hand with Leo Knut.

“They make a sunshine pair,” Saint said from beside him. “How’re you feeling?”

Sirius touched two fingers to one of the black-leather moons on his jacket sleeve. They were meant to go with Remus’ stars. He remembered planning for them. He’d thought…part of him had thought if he’d worn them tonight—

“Cloudy sky,” he replied to Saint.

“I was gonna say dappled sunlight in…” Saint glanced around. “A dark forest.”

Remus and Leo were wearing dress shirts, collars rumpled and unbuttoned at their throats, each in a smooth shade of cream. Their hands, decked out in golden rings, were laced together, and they both wore pale gray slacks, slim cut, and laceless nikes.

My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun…hmm, but don’t I spy some burning jealous?

“What are we going for here,” Saint raised an eyebrow. “Left in a hurry and didn’t get the dress code?”

“We’re going against me,” Sirius replied, slipping his hands into his pockets and trying to stand straight. “That’s all.”

“Sunlight in a dark forest, indeed.”

Sirius watched them looking out over the flashes, and tried not to look surprised when golden eyes met his own. Remus’ expression didn’t change either. Instead, he simply blinked, then looked away. Leo, tall and lean, leaned into his ear, and Remus smiled. The cameras popped like champagne.

I love right here, Sirius remembered his own voice, the feeling of the soft skin by Remus’ eye beneath his thumb. I love right here when you smile.

“I need to get backstage,” Sirius said shortly, and turned on his heel.

“I’ll be watching.”

“Don’t I know,” Sirius called as he weaved his way through the crowd, heading backstage. The woman with a radio in her ear looked annoyed and nervous when he slipped past her, and radioed that he had arrived to whoever it was that needed to know.

“Sirius!” Alice called, hands full of makeup brushes and up in the air. “Jesus Christ, do you think I have all fucking night?”

Sirius shrugged out of his red carpet jacket—which someone took—and slid into her chair. “Sorry, Al.”

She twirled a protective cape around his shoulders, snapping it at the base of his neck. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty. But then again, I think everyone’s pretty.”

Sirius closed his eyes, letting her begin. “People are.”

Alice had just finished contour when Sirius all but felt his mother’s presence. A shift in the air. A cooler wind. People standing up straighter and shivering.

“Sirius,” his mother’s face appeared in the mirror. Her red lipstick was the brightest thing about her, and even that was almost mauve. Her dress was tight around her breasts, but cascaded in thick waves of velvet behind her, and she wore tall leather boots. It almost looked like armor. “You’re very late, darling.”

“Sorry,” Sirius said. “Saint and I got caught up in the crowd, I guess.”

She hummed. “You two looked fetching out there. He’s much more pleasing than that other boy ever was. His family is important, too.”

It was true, that his mother had never liked Remus much. Though, Sirius couldn’t compare him and Saint. They were two different oceans.

“Get dressed,” his mother breathed, and was already snapping her fingers at one of the other models before Sirius could say another word.

“All right?” Alice asked him quietly.

Sirius looked at himself in the mirror. Her contour made his face look almost gaunt, as was the general makeup for all of the models, and he knew he’d be given dark eye makeup next, his hair fluffed into perfect curls.

“Fine,” Sirius said, and closed his eyes to let her work.

Sirius was shrugging into his given outfit—a billowing longcoat, 20th century in fashion, and a longer tunic made almost entirely of the thinnest black silk. It would shimmer when he walked, he knew, and his tall, lace-up boots, the flat sole so thin and delicate that he almost felt barefoot, would disappear beneath the shimmer. His mother was cold, stubborn, and cruel sometimes, an unfeeling, yawning sort of dark, but she was talented.

“Lord Vader,” came a voice from behind him, and Sirius laughed even before he turned to face Thomas Walker.

“Sounds about right,” Sirius said, and they clasped hands, pulling them into a one-armed hug. “You look fantastic, though.”

Thomas spun slowly on his heel, letting the long, loose fitting white linen of his button-down—which went out in two, tuxedo-like tails at his back—flare out above his slim, black trousers. He wore a thin scarf of distressed wool.

“Like a fallen gentleman, no?” Thomas grinned. “I might try and steal these pants. And maybe the shirt for Noelle.”

“Oh, yeah,” Sirius smiled, spying Noelle’s green eyes behind his shoulder. “She’ll love that.”

Noelle wrapped her arms, which were draped in a transparent green cloth, around Thomas’ waist. “Thanks for thinking of me, T baby.”

Thomas laughed in surprise. “Who let you back stage?”

“I’m a Tremblay, they’ll let us in anywhere.”

Thomas turned his head to capture Noelle in a soft kiss.

“See you after, hm?” Noelle said. “I’m gonna go say hi to my friend, she’s walking tonight, too.”

“Yeah, we’ll ride to Honeyduke’s together.”

Noelle raised an eyebrow at him. “You coming, Black?”

“Saint all but owns the place,” Sirius said. “Of course I am.”

Sirius walked. He didn’t look down, or hear the cameras. It wasn’t his favorite thing in the world, to be up here, not able to see past the lights—but something tonight was different. It felt as it had the night of his and Remus’ first kiss.

In that show, he had had one, thin line of black lipstick traced over the center of his bottom lip. It had marked Remus’ throat and cheeks like soot by the end of it all.

Remus had been waiting for him back stage.

“Come here,” Remus had whispered, and laced their fingers together.

“Where?” Sirius had answered, surprised by their palms pressing together.

But it hadn’t been a place. Remus had pressed them back in between clothing racks, and crashed their mouths together.

Here, Remus had whispered, and kissed him again.

Sirius felt the absence of the stage lights like a wash of cold air, and he stretched out his back, letting his stony face drop a little. He glanced around, but there was no one to be found. His cheeks were warm just thinking about it.

“Good,” his mother said as he passed her by to take off the makeup, and that was all.

XOXO

Saint looked across Honeyduke’s and felt like it was his. Logan was laughing with Thomas and Noelle, and he had Kasey Winter beside him, securing tickets to one of their favorite bands to see together.

“Done,” Kasey said, and flashed one of his rare smiles.

“I knew you were my favorite,” Saint took a sip of his drink, and Kasey scoffed.

“Me or my mom?”

“Maybe a little of both. Oh, and we’re going to sushi beforehand.”

Kasey’s smile was larger now. “Wouldn’t have it any other way. You gonna leave with that drummer again? What’s her name?”

Saint smiled. “Oh, Sally. And I make it a habit to always leave with the drummer.”

Kasey just shook his head. “Yeah, yeah. I’m getting a drink and leaving you to your one-liners.”

Saint watched him go, feeling settled, and set about scanning the room for Sirius. He was sure he’d know if he was there—people tended to swarm to Sirius, even if he didn’t ask for it. It was part of the reason they were so close. People flocked to Saint, too. So, they asked for each other’s company. A more intimate, calm part of life. Sirius was quiet. Saint wasn’t, but he let Saint , for a moment, be that way, too. Saint was loud. Sirius wasn’t, but Saint had his ways to fire him up.

“Another drink, sir?”

Saint looked over his shoulder, only to turn all the way around, interest peaked. The bartender had sandy hair, and a strong jaw, his cheeks textured by acne scars in some places. He had brown eyes—save for a sliver of green in one.

“Only if you have one with me,” Saint said, and glanced down at his name-tag. “Luke.”

Luke arched an eyebrow, pressing the heels of his palms onto the bar between them, revealing rolled up sleeves and some type of vine tattoo, wrapping all around both of his forearms.

“I’m working, sir.”

“Is that a later?” he nodded at the tattoo. “Nice.”

“I don’t think so,” Luke said.

“Oh, no?”

Luke scowled—how did he look so handsome doing that?

“Do you make it a habit to go home with all the waiters, too?”

Saint didn’t let his expression flicker, just smiled nice and slow.

“Hillrock,” Saint said. “Neat.”

The barkeep turned away.

Ouch. Looks like not everyone worships at your alter, Saint.

XOXO

The elevator doors opened, revealing the party to Sirius one outfit after the next. He had changed for the afterparty—the first of three. He wore a tight, thin black t-shirt and dark jeans. He hadn’t bothered to wash off the dark, smudged eyeliner from the show. His combat boots went up to just below his knee, and had the same nearly naked feeling sole. It made him feel soundless, like a shadow.

Maybe that’s why it was easy to find Remus and stand beside him without him stirring.

“You’re a little underdressed,” Sirius said without looking at him.

“Says the boy wearing a t-shirt,” Remus replied evenly.

Sirius scowled. “I meant at the show.”

“People like to be surprised,” Remus replied evenly.

“Who’s Leo?”

“My boyfriend.”

Sirius turned towards him. “You didn’t tell me you were coming home.”

Remus matched him. They were nearly chest to chest. “You didn’t say a word to me in class.”

“You didn’t—“

“I had the last word,” Remus snapped. “I figured maybe you’d finally have something to say back.”

Sirius stared at him, heart pounding in his ears. For a moment, he let himself look. At the golden eyes, hair more blond than ever from the summer’s sun. Sirius couldn’t stand that mouth set in a frown.

“Guess not,” Remus said softly, lips dropping open in the way they used to before they kissed.

Sirius all but felt him vanish into the writhing crowd.

XOXO

Finn looked up when a flash of color on the morning-silent street outside caught his eye. He set the books he was holding down, took the pen out from between his teeth.

Green.

“What the hell?” Finn laughed as he pulled open the door to his bookshop to find Logan standing there. “It’s five in the fucking morning, what are you doing here? Couldn’t sleep?”

“Never did,” Logan said, and that’s when Finn saw that Logan was still in his suit from the livestream.

“Ah, I see,” Finn said, eyes flicking up and down his broad form. He swallowed dryly. “The nature of afterparties, I suppose. Well, you—you look good. For someone who’s been up all night, I mean.”

Logan just smiled, one of his small, secretive ones. Finn watched as he stepped forward so they were almost toe to toe in the doorway.

“Wh…” Finn’s voice dropped off with a breathless laugh. He couldn’t help but look at Logan’s mouth. His full lips that could speak a language Finn couldn’t even begin to describe.

Logan just reached up to the base of his own throat and unclipped the fleur-de-lis clasp there. In one smooth swoop, he drew his short cloak from his shoulders and around Finn’s, right over his worn gray t-shirt, clicking it in place. The fabric brought a gentle scent, and he figured it must be Logan’s cologne.

“Something green,” Logan said softly. A warm, early morning breeze ruffled his hair, pushing the curls forward. Finn couldn’t move. “What are you doing here?”

“Inventory,” Finn whispered, then cleared his throat. “Inventory.”

“Okay,” Logan said. “I’ll help.”

#between fifth and you lumosinlove #lumosinlove #gossipgirl!au #wolfstar #wolfstar au #o'knutzy #hazelverse #harry potter #Harry Potter au

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threecrowsinatrenchcoat · 3 years

Text

For One More Hour or One More Day

Dukeceit Week Day 6: Horror/Comedy

Remus and Janus work in IT, and Remus never fails to make Janus' life a bit more exciting than it should be. Janus wouldn't have it any other way.

AO3 Link: [here]

Word Count: 1416

Warnings: swearing, typical Remus-levels of implied sexual content.

@dukeceitweek <3

[06032021 Network Node Down- 172.12.203.1 - Dee Why ]

Janus stared at the next ticket in his queue. He didn't even have to look at which tech wrote it. He just knew. He picked up his phone and dialed.

“'Sup, DeeDee?"

"Because they use ancient technology and refuse to upgrade, that's why."

There was a beat of silence on the line. Janus didn't need to see him to know Remus was grinning like a maniac.

“Oh, JD, I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about," Remus said finally. His voice was laced with barely-contained glee.

“Uh-huh, sure," Janus replied dryly. He watched on his screen as an incoming call diverted from his in-use line. "Do you want to clarify for me, in excruciating detail, what, exactly, it is that broke this time? After all, if it's something I can fix from here, it would save the company an awful lot of money. And you know how I love saving this company money."

“You don't feel like taking work calls either, huh?"

“Ree, I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about."

[06142021 CRITICAL | Device failed Availability and Latency checks - Dispatch Requested]

Janus sat in his truck for a few minutes, cross-checking the address across his e-mail, Slack, and the ticket itself. And yeah, they all matched. This wasn’t a repeat of that time Remus had changed the address on the ticket from 96th St. to 69th St. as a joke.

(Janus had almost gotten mugged. He was still a little salty about that one.)

But this time, all the addresses matched. The problem was, he was parked in front of a restaurant instead of the usual office building, and that just didn’t seem right. He opened up Slack on his phone.

Janus D’lyre: Are you sure the address is right?

Remus Rey: Yeah, it’s right.

Janus D’lyre: It’s a restaurant.

Remus Rey: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Janus D’lyre: Are you positive it’s right?

Remus Rey: I just write the tickets, Dee, I don’t do a background check. Just go in.

Janus sighed. He got out of his truck, hefted his tech bag over his shoulder, and went inside.

It was a nice restaurant. Very fancy, with a goddamn chandelier hanging over the front lobby. Field engineers weren’t required to dress in a suit and tie, but Janus did by habit- and he was glad he did, because he would feel like a horrible slob standing here in jeans and a polo.

“Can I help you?”

Janus looked over to the host, standing at the counter with a bright smile that only looked 52% faked.

“Yes,” Janus answered. “I’m here about the network issues?”

“Oh!” The host- his name tag read ‘Patton’- brightened up a bit. “Yeah! Remus is waiting for you, this way!”

“Remus is what?”

It was too late. Patton had already darted around the counter and off into the dining area. Janus sighed and, regretting every life choice leading up to this exact moment, followed.

Sure enough, Remus was waiting for him. Patton led him to a quieter area of the restaurant, where Remus was sitting at a table. Well, sitting was a generous way to phrase it, because in reality, he was tipped back on the rear two legs of the chair, combat boot-clad feet up on the table. He jumped up eagerly at the sight of Janus, and somehow managed not to fall backwards and crack his skull open.

“Hey! You made it! Thanks, Pat!”

“No problemo!” the host replied with a grin before heading back to the front counter. Janus briefly considered that he might be having a fever dream right now.

“Remus, what the fuck?”

“Told you it was the right address!”

Janus glared. “That is not what I’m ‘what the fuck’-ing you about.”

“I mean, I’d prefer me fucking you-”

“Remus.”

“Well, you work so hard, DeeDee,” Remus said calmly, as if he wasn’t standing in the middle of the fanciest restaurant on this side of town, dressed in his usual tank-top and leather vest combo and probably mashing dirt into the plush red carpet, and definitely doing something that should get him fired. “I thought you could take a break, and we could have a nice dinner.”

No, he wasn’t doing something that should get him fired. He was doing something that should get them both fired.

“You’re joking, right?”

“Kinda a lame joke.”

“Remus, you had me dispatched to a random address for a fake problem, to have dinner with you on company time?”

“‘Course not, who do you think I am?”

Janus did not dignify that with an answer. He turned to walk away.

“Jannie, wait!” Remus darted around the table to get in front of him. Janus stopped, and glared. “This is Roman’s restaurant! It’s not a random address, he’s an actual client.”

Janus’ glare lessened. Ok, sure, they did have some smaller commercial clients. And sure, Remus had mentioned his brother’s restaurant was using them as tech support now after a bad experience with a different company. But- “It’s still a fake problem, Remus.”

A shit-eating grin spread across Remus’ face. “Nah. I unplugged the router.”

Janus snorted in a totally dignified manner. “You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“...Well, I suppose… I’d better investigate the issue. Couldn’t be solved remotely, hardware problem and all.”

Remus held out a hand. Janus took it, and let Remus lead him back to the table.

“Great, cause I already ordered!”

[06192021 Switch is problematic. Unable to get into the switch || Serial No. 111-0203-2018]

Janus very calmly cleared the ticket, set his work phone to away, pulled out his personal phone, and sent Remus a text.

Jannie-D: I know you’re upset I didn’t let you fuck me last night. Get over it.

Remster: i will not

Virgil Caligo: yo are u and remus like good?

Janus D’lyre: We had a small argument last night. Why?

Virgil Caligo: [image attached]

Janus sighed. Virgil had sent him a screenshot of a ticket update Remus had just posted.

[06292021 Ticket #00679 Update.] ‘The device is not only unresponsive to simple ping requests, but is being kind of a jerk about it. 100% package loss, a tragedy. Device was confirmed to be connected to a working power source, but they all say that, so who can really be sure. Dispatch requested, please confirm maintenance window. Actually showing up would be great, too.’

Janus hastily typed a message to Virgil.

Janus D’lyre: Did you take that one?

Virgil Caligo: ya. logan didnt see dw

Janus D’lyre: Thanks. You can transfer it to me, I’ll take care of it.

Janus leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples. What a comedy of errors this day had been. It was the last time he’d forget he and Remus had a date night planned, that’s for sure.

Remus sighed when a priority ticket popped up in his queue. He was having a grand time ignoring his other queues in favor of sculpting a rather elaborate dick out of the green Play-Doh he kept at his desk, but he really did not feel like getting bitched out by Logan for missing a priority ticket. Grumbling to himself, he stuffed the Play-Doh back into its tub and opened the ticket.

[06292021 Ticket #00679 Update.] ‘Likely a hardware bug. Possible remote fix with reset and reconfigure. Device information missing from online records. Please check file and update record.’

Fuck. Remus hated pulling files. What a pain. He trudged his way upstairs to the records room, which was always dark and depressing because nobody ever went there because who the fuck used physical paper in 2021?

But when he unlocked the door and pushed it open, the light was on. And every surface was covered in flowers.

“What the fuck?” Remus asked the flowers. They didn’t answer. But, at the small desk near the door, there was a stack of green boxes from his favorite bakery- and on top of that, he saw an envelope with his name on it. Eagerly, Remus tore open the envelope.

Inside, he found a single sheet of Janus’ fancy stationery paper, the kind with the little holographic snakes along the edge that he only ever used for special occasions. And on that paper, one single sentence, penned in Janus’ elegant, flourishy handwriting: Ok, you can fuck me tonight.

- - -

[06292021 Ticket #00679 Update.] ‘I take it back, the device is no longer being a jerk, and I love the device very much.’

#dukeceitweek #dukeceit #janus sanders #remus sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #kye writes

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rphelperblog · 2 years

Text

A Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue Quote Rp Meme

“God bless the book people for their boundless knowledge absorbed from having words instead of friends.”

“We're not courting trouble.Flirting with it, at most.”

“We are not broken things, neither of us. We are cracked pottery mended with laquer and flakes of gold, whole as we are, complete unto each other. Complete and worthy and so very loved.”

"Ladies haven't the luxury of being squeamish about blood,"

“It's beginning to feel like he's shuffling his way through the seven deadly sins, in ascending order of my favourites.”

“Love may be a grand thing, but goddamn if it doesn't take up more than its fair share of space inside a man.”

“We are not broken things, neither of us. We are cracked pottery mended with lacquer and flakes of gold, whole as we are, complete unto each other. Complete and worthy and so very loved.”

“You were right—it’s less horrid now.”

“So long as you don’t go falling in love with me.”

“It’s a strange feeling, realizing that other people you don’t know have their own full lives that don’t touch yours. ”

“Yes, for education. An actual education, not finishing school—they’re going to squeeze me into corsets and bully me into silence.

“There’s really nothing to do but pretend I’m fully clothed and in control of the situation.”

“Could I get an absolute value on too much?”

“He seems like he wants to touch me, but we've lost any sense of how men who haven't kissed each other do that.”

“Lucky for me as well, or else we might never have met, and then what would have been the point of my life?”

“Ugh. Feelings.”

"Because I want you to know that there is life after survival.”

“Against the sky, the stars crown him, marking the edges of his silhouette like he is a constellation of himself.”

“I swear, you would play the coquette with a well-upholstered sofa."

"First, I would not. And second, how handsome is this sofa?”

“What’s the use of temptations if we don’t yield to them?”

"I'd like you to both remember just how much you adore me and how dull and gloomy your lives would be without me in them.

“It occurs to me then that perhaps getting my little sister drunk and explaining why I screw boys is not the most responsible move on my part.”

“it’s hard not to see. You’re the kind of pair that makes everyone around them feel as though they’re missing out on a private joke.”

“I have lived most of my life as a devotee of the philosophy that a man should not see two sevens in one day,”

"You're right, you don't. But you're getting better. And that isn't nothing.”

“Everyone has a rough go. I’ve had it far easier than most people.”

“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean your feelings matter less.”

"I'm older and I know I'm supposed to be... an example, I don't know. At least someone you aren't embarrassed of."

"You're nothing like your father. For a start, you're far more decent than he is."

“clean up, sober up, stop letting lads climb in through your bedroom window at night or else—”

“There are bodies buried beneath the flagstones of my parents' estate, and some graves never green.”

You might be the only person left on earth who thinks me decent."

“I've always been of the mind that subtlety is a waste of time. Fortune favors the flirtatious.”

“and the person I most want to run away from is me.”

"So in future, you needn't demand apologies on my behalf.”

“I have become a veritable scholar in seemingly innocent ploys to get his skin against mine.

“A small shift in the gravity between us and suddenly all my stars are out of alignment, planets knocked from their orbits, and I'm left stumbling, without map or heading, through the bewildering territory of being in love with your best friend.”

This is who I am, and I don’t think I’m insane. I don’t think I should be locked up and I don’t think I need to be cured of it for my life to be good. But no one seems to agree with me on that, and I was hoping you’d be different, but apparently you think just the same as my family and my doctors and everyone else.”

“If the Good Lord didn't want men to play with themselves, we'd have hooks for hands.”

Perspective is a goddamn son of a bitch.”

“I thought it was the chair. Sorry about that. Dear Lord, why didn’t you say something?”

“From my first sighting, I fall in immediate and passionate love with Venice.”

“It is impossible to explain how you can love someone so much that it’s difficult to be around him.”

“have lost years of my life loving him from afar and I’ll be damned if I’m robbed of him as soon as we realize we’ve both been admiring each other from a distance all this while.”

“Perhaps fashion is just a reinforcement of a lady’s chastity, in hopes that the interested party may lose interest and abandon any deflowering attempts simply for all the clothing in the way.”

“It is remarkable how much courage it takes to kiss someone, even when you are almost certain that person would very mush like to be kissed by you. Doubt will knock you from the sky every time.”

“It’s hard for me to think of anything other than what he might be thinking, and what this night means to him, and if it’s the same as for me.”

“but God bless the book people for their boundless knowledge absorbed from having words instead of friends.”

“—murder you, then alchemically raise you from the dead so I can murder you again—

“Be a little less honest and a little more tactful.”

“A small shift in the gravity between us and suddenly all my stars are out of alignment, planets knocked from their orbits, and I’m left stumbling, without map or heading, through the bewildering territory of being in love with your best friend.”

'No, I am the second thief. Which I think cancels out my thievery.”

“You can’t, I am thinking. You can’t be ill because I need you and you can’t go away to die in some asylum because what am I supposed to do without you?”

there are some lovely women in France. Some handsome boys as well, many of whom wear their breeches very tight, though I wasn’t clear where I stood on that when I was eleven.”

“Blackmail is aggravating in normal circumstances, but far worse when it's coming from a younger sister.”

“Somehow nothing's changed, and everything has.”

“have a history of reacting poorly when shouted at,”

"If your Bible is written by Henry Montague.”

And we are looking at each other, just looking, and I swear there are whole lifetimes lived in those small, shared moments.”

“It is remarkable how much courage it takes to kiss someone, even when you are almost certain that person would very much like to be kissed by you. Doubt will knock you from the sky every time.”

“I want to touch him abso-bloody-lutely everywhere.”

“There´s nothing good about watching another man claim your ship because your skin is to dark to do it yourself.”

“It took several thousand miles for me to begin believing that I am better than the worst things I’ve done. But I’m starting.”

“Hollow yourself or the fear eats you alive.”

“Well, one is illegal. And a sin. And the other is also a sin, if you aren’t married to her.”

Did you know this year is not going to be a disaster?'

“Steel thyself, mate.”

“In their poor imitation of French fashion, they look like pastries in a bakery window at the end of the day, trying a bit too hard to be beautiful as they wilt.”

"You are not my father, I am not your responsibility, and I did not come here to have a list of my faults related from him or be condemned for who I associate with-not by you or that damned duke. So while it's been a jolly good time, being treated like a child all evening, I think I've just about had enough and I can make my own way from here

"You're right, you don't. But you're getting better. And that isn't nothing.”

“And we are looking at each other, just looking, and I swear there are whole lifetimes lived in those small, shared seconds.”

“What's the use of temptations if we don't yield to them?”

“The first step will be unlearning all the things you’ve taught me for my entire life. It took several thousand miles for me to begin believing that I am better than the worst things I’ve done. But I’m starting.”

#books #booklr #book rp meme #book rp #ask prompt #ask #ask meme #ask starter #rp ask meme #rp ask blog #open meme #open to anybody #open RP #open to anyone #open to all #a gentleman's guide to love and murder

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theimpossiblescheme · 3 years

Text

The Rebirth of Lupin III

(I was rewatching Part 4, and this plot bunny took me hostage after watching Episode 14, “The End of Lupin III”. After what was probably Lupin’s most harrowing near-death fakeout yet, I couldn’t help but wonder about the aftermath, and before I knew it I’d written this. I hope everyone enjoys it!)

It wouldn’t have been the first time Lupin the Third “died.” Hell, given his track record, it probably wouldn’t be the last either. But damn if he hadn’t put on one hell of a show. Old Pops had been wrapped around his little finger the entire time—the discarded meals, the weakened voice, the repeated talk about the end being near… that final scene with the shared cigarette… the genuine sorrow in Zenigata’s voice, even moreso than all the other times… it was his finest performance yet.

It might also have been his stupidest.

Turned out skipping meals for multiple months, only eating what he absolutely had to in order to finish the painting on the cell floor… that kind of stunt tended to really negatively impact your health. Go figure. The amount of times he’d blacked out midway through mixing his makeshift paints, or he’d felt the acid from his own empty stomach rising into his throat as he worked… he’d honestly lost count. Walking made him dizzy, and that last cigarette tasted like nothing so much as burning tar on his lips, even as he forced himself to finish it. That final scene, hearing his ears ring as Pops spoke and feeling his hands shake under his blanket, really did feel like one. Empty stage as Lupin collapses before he can even unveil his master plan. Before he can live up to Pops’ faith in him. Lights out. Curtain.

It had been an honest to God miracle he’d made it farther than that. Standing to gloat over his victory as Zenigata finally opened the cell made his legs teeter dangerously, and his throat still felt raw, but if he was going to live to see the finale, by God he was going to make it an unforgettable one. He’d managed to walk away smiling as Pops could do nothing but laugh in hysterical disbelief, and Lupin felt a bit of that hysteria bubbling up in his own lungs, too. He’d actually pulled it off… damn, somebody up there must really like him.

Somebody out on the bay liked him, too, apparently. As soon as Rebecca and Robson’s motorboat sped into view, Lupin wasted no time leaping into the water after it. Finally, another familiar face—even if his limbs felt like they might snap at any moment, he was still going to make it out to them. To know that Rebecca had made it out alive, that she hadn’t given up on him even after so long. When she hauled him up into the boat, his head lolled onto her shoulder against her neck, and he noticed her perfume had changed. Some new label must have sent her fresh samples… she smelled nice, like a fruity cocktail on a summer day…

Rebecca brushed a lock of hair out of his face, and he suddenly became very aware of how long he’d let it get. “You look terrible,” she said with a very faint smile.

Lupin managed a wheezing chuckle in response. “Yeah, probably.”

And then he blacked out again.

When he came to, he was in an actual bed. With sheets and a pillow. What a difference it made on his neck—sleeping on concrete had done him no favors. On the endtable beside him was a bowl of stew, still hot, and a cup of what smelled like lemon tea. Not his favorite, but beggars and choosers and all that, and Robson really didn’t have to go to the trouble. Besides, after so long actively avoiding any food provided him, it smelled goddamn delicious. Even with his arms and legs still feeling like matchsticks, Lupin still managed to sit up and help himself. The stew was gone in nothing flat, and the tea was half-finished and cooling by the time Lupin felt strong enough to stand up. The Rosselini’s guest rooms were comparatively plain next to the rest of the house, but they could still stand up respectably with any of Fujiko’s favorite upscale hotels.

(Where the hell was Fujiko… or Jigen or Goemon for that matter… best not to think of that right now. He’d only just woken up, after all. There was still time… there was nothing but time now.)

And of course, the décor was hardly the highlight. Propping himself against the wall, he turned the latch on the window and opened it, letting the morning breeze waft in and the sun warm his face for the second time in God knew how many days.

San Marino was still beautiful. A jewel too big to pocket, but not too small to admire. Lupin stood for a long moment drinking in the view before turning to the guest bathroom.

The sight that greeted him there was less than beautiful. He still had the damn beard and long tangled hair, but that wasn’t the worst of it. His cheeks had hollowed out into nothing, and his skin had gone so grey and cold from darkness and malnutrition it may as well not be there at all. A skull framed with dark hair stared back at him from the mirror, and it took all of Lupin’s self-control not to hurl the half-digested stew and tea into the sink. Of all the times he had to actually almost die, it had to be when he didn’t even look like himself. A disguise would be one thing—his true face and body would still be underneath—but this…

This wouldn’t do.

Luckily, a razor and shaving cream had been left on the counter for him. Lupin immediately snatched them up and began to fill the sink with hot water, actually tapping his foot impatiently as it didn’t fill fast enough. He needed to see his face again, needed to know that it was still him under all this. When the sink was full, he wet the razor and hurriedly slathered the shaving cream across his chin and cheeks, even carelessly getting some into his hair. This would be fine. He’d be fine. Good as new, even.

If only his hands would stop freaking shaking…

He lifted the razor to the underside of his chin and instantly felt his hand slip. A few seconds of panic preceded the bolt of pain as he felt blood drip into his fingers. Damn it all… dammit dammit dammit, why’d he have to let it go this far?

“Lupin?”

The voice didn’t come from the door, but instead the window. Lupin barely even processed that before wheeling around, knees weak and face burning with embarrassment. He couldn’t let anybody see him like this, not even—

“Goemon!”

His samurai still had one leg out the window as he climbed through, but he froze in place upon seeing Lupin framed in the bathroom door. A hundred different emotions warred in his eyes, and Lupin wanted so badly to run over and hug him before Goemon’s face settled into its usual stoicism. “Is this where you’ve been all this time?”

“Ah… not exactly,” Lupin said sheepishly, reaching a hand to the back of his neck and internally cursing the cold sweat that had gathered in his hair. “I’m not really sure how long I’ve been here. Rebecca and her butler came to get me after I got away from Pops.” Another poor excuse for a chuckle wheezed out of him. “Lemme tell you… they don’t half kid around locking somebody up here if they want ‘em locked up… it’s a lot worse if you don’t have the key.”

“I can see that.” Goemon finally drew closer, studying Lupin intently. “You don’t look like you had an easy time of it.”

“Honestly, does anybody have an easy time in prison? That’s why I try to stay out of it, y’know.” But it was hard to keep even a weak smile in place, looking at Goemon now… God, he really could have died. He could have never seen him again, or any of his gang. Faking a grand exit for the benefit of Interpol, knowing he could return when the coast was clear, was so much different. And Goemon looked so healthy next to him—he’d even put on a bit of weight for once, which told Lupin that Jigen must have found him a nice Japanese place outside San Marino. Hell, compared to Lupin’s sorry state, he looked downright beautiful. It felt like it had been years… Lupin could stand there staring at him for even longer than that. How must Jigen and Fujiko look at this exact moment? Were they worried about him? Were they okay? All at once, he wished they were all here, together, and that he didn’t look like the freaking Crypt Keeper when he went to greet them.

Goemon reached up and touched Lupin’s cheek with his fingertips, and Lupin tried very hard not to lean into the touch as he had with Rebecca. “I’m not sure if the beard suits you, though. Or the long hair. You look a bit like something else crawled onto your head and died.”

That got a stronger, if extremely wry, smile out of him. Nice to know both their senses of humor were intact. “Yeah, not a fan myself… I don’t suppose you could…?” He raised his eyebrows.

“I’m not using my sword to give you a shave, Lupin.”

“No, not with Zantetsuken, dummy—just use the razor.” There was the arch, fussy side of Goemon… he had to admit, he’d missed that, too. Nodding as if he’d understood all along, Goemon picked up the razor and washed away the blood before cupping a hand around the back of Lupin’s neck and letting him lean back as he worked. His hands were much steadier, almost gentle in their grip, and he was always a few degrees warmer than Lupin himself. Endless physical exercise would do that, Lupin supposed—ironic, considering how much time he spent under freezing cold waterfalls and out in the snow. Fujiko’s hands were always just on the comfortable side of cold, but she avoided that kind of exertion if she possibly could.

“Where are the other two?” Lupin asked, trying to move his jaw as little as possible so he wouldn’t obstruct Goemon’s work. “Are they--?”

“They’re both fine. Fujiko had rented out a beach house on the Italian mainland to wait for you, and Jigen had been spending time at one of the casinos. When I called to let them know you’d escaped, they told me they were on their day—they should be here this evening.”

Thank God… “So you finally figured out that phone I gave you, huh?”

“I’m not actually from the Sengoku Period, Lupin—I know what a cell phone is and how to use it.” He paused to wash off the razor again, and a very light pink stained his cheeks. “Fujiko also helped a great deal. Especially our first night in San Marino.”

“Oh, I’ll bet.” For once, Lupin hadn’t meant it with any lewd intent, but it didn’t stop Goemon from yanking his head back a trifle harshly as he found a new angle with the razor. “They’ve gotta be pretty pissed, too… that I took so long. I know I would be.”

“They’re upset, certainly. But no more than usual for you.” It wasn’t said with any real malice, just as a blunt statement of the truth, but it still stung. Did it make it any better or worse that for once—out of all the times he’d faked his death—he actually feared it might be for real? Instead of just an act he’d strung them along on for the sake of the greater plan?

Probably worse. At least all those other times, the plan was to come back.

“I’ll do better next time.” And he really did mean it. Although he’d probably stave off the “next time” for as long as he could—one impregnable prison cell full of rotten uneaten food was enough. “And I’m definitely not gonna let it go this far. Believe it or not, the beard isn’t even the worst of it. With my hands the way they are, I’d hate to think what’ll happen when I need to pee.”

“As long as Jigen doesn’t have to hold you up.” There was no smile on Goemon’s face, but there was one in his voice. “And I know for a fact he’ll hold you to that promise.”

Lupin couldn’t help but grimace. As much as he’d love to see his gunman again… “Yeah, not looking forward to that conversation. Not just ‘cause I’m gonna bruise like a banana if he punches me.”

“I’ll do my best to separate you.” There was the smile—it softened up the prematurely harsh lines of Goemon’s face as it always did, and Lupin had to remember to keep his head still and resist the temptation to kiss his cheeks until his lips went numb. Rinsing off the razor again, Goemon tilted Lupin’s head slightly to his right. “I might be at this for a while—please promise me you’ll never grow a beard again.”

“You got it, man. And I got all the time in the world.”

#lupin iii #my fanfic #I can't believe this is my first non-prompted piece for this fandom... I don't hate it honestly. XD #But yeah that episode is both really good and a little wild because he's apparently back to 'normal' in the end #(after an apparent time skip but still) and I'm just sitting there like... *dude you almost died.*#I know it takes a lot to knock you out of the running but *come on.*#So that was where this came from (and his relationship with Goemon doesn't get enough love so that's why he's here too. <3).

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

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77. a prophecy said that we’ll save the world together but I’ll be damned if I enjoy your company while we do because you insulted my best friend the first time we met

Ot4, sfw, please!

Here you go! I'm very pleased with this one

The drive hasn’t changed. The road into Kepler goes under the same covered bridges and winds up the same hills it always has. Even the views from driveway to the October House are the same one’s he watched through back windows with rising delight. He’d hoped to get here when the fall colors were still crisp and bright, but they droop from the branches like mourners from the weight of the grey rain.

No one batted an eye when he said he was moving North on Joe’s invitation; Joseph Stern inherited the ancestral home in Vermont, with its sprawling grounds and stately decay. It would make sense that he’d ask the friend who spent so many summers with him there to take up the role of groundskeeper.

Duck pulls his truck into the carport next to a languishing Chrysler Imperial. He runs his finger over the black curves, raindrops plinking on the tin roof as he wonders whether he could coax Joe into taking him for a ride.

He leaves his bags in the car for now. Letting his friend know he’s here is the top priority.

The house is just as tall and mismatched as he remembers, turrets and wide windows mixed with sloping eaves and a sun room. It’s patchwork quilt character extends to it’s color; some walls are red, others goldenrod, and the door is bright as a ripe pumpkin.

Joe christened it the October House the first summer he and Duck visited there. Joseph’s aunt, a proud spinster, suggested his transplant parents send him to the family farm for a few months of growth. When Joe showed his characteristic skepticism about spending his summer alone in Vermont, she offered to let him bring a friend. He chose Duck every year.

The October House was the last thing they spoke about the night before Duck left for basic training (and, soon after, Normandy). Joe was already slipping off the map, recruited for secret purposes by men who valued his intelligence over his humanity. He told Duck to remember the summer they were thirteen, to remember he was brave.

It wasn’t Duck Newton’s first war, but it was for damn sure his last.

He opens the door with the tarnished key Joe sent him. Anywhere else, he’d call out to find his host. But he knows where he’ll be.

One flight of creaking stairs, a left turn down the hallway of faded photos, a right into the room with the mural of Noah’s Ark on the wall, and there he is. Black hair slicked back, blue silk robe covering old scars and new, and eyes that are bluer still turning to take him in.

That’s Joe alright; immaculate even in his madness.

“You’re here.” He stands, dazzling smile reflecting the firelight.

“Told you I’d come. Can’t leave you here to get buried alive in books.” He opens his arms, unsure even as he commits to the movement. Joe hesitates, then steps across crumpled maps of stars and seas to hug him.

“I missed you.” He whispers. Duck doesn’t mention that Joe was the one to disappear once the war was over. They had one night in Huntington celebrating the boys who made it home; Joe’s smile stayed painted on the whole time, but Duck couldn’t get him alone to ask why. Then he fled north and didn’t respond to letters.

“Missed you too, Joe.” He peers over the taller man’s shoulder, takes in the mural and all the materials on the floor. Duck steps from the hug, paper crunching under his boots as he goes to trace the door of the ark, “you’re tryin to go back.”

“I want proof Sylvain was real. I, I want to see it again, to know we didn’t dream it.”

“Got a scar on belly that says we didn’t.” Duck turns, slips his hands into his pockets, “why are you really tryin to go back? They told us we couldn’t, said that if we came home the gate would shut for good.”

Joe doesn’t answer right away, runs his fingers over the badgers and bears fleeing the flood, “Do you ever wish we’d stayed?”

Duck thinks about bloody sand. Then about Jane getting married. His folks celebrating their twentieth anniversary.

“No. Christ, Joe, we were thirteen. It was fucked up to ask us to. Who the fuck asks two kids to rule a kingdom?”

A weak laugh, “and people say I’m the smart one.”

“You are.” Duck touches his shoulder, “now c’mon, smart guy, you don’t show me where my room is, I’m takin yours.”

------------------------------------------------

“You sure this is the spot?” Barclay keeps a close eye on the gathering darkness for any bursts of sickly white.

“Yes. The maps align with the stories that they emerged near “a stone like that of a broken heart.” Indrid draws hurriedly in the dirt with his claws, his lower hands uncorking bottles as he does, “come closer, if this catalyzes before I expect, I do not want you to be left behind.”

Barclay sets a hand on his shoulder. Feels his feathers shudder as he inhales.

“It’s time. I, if this does not work, I am sorry.”

He bends, kisses Indrid between his antenna, “I trust you, little moth.”

Indrid hums as amber light fills the clearing, and then everything he knows and loves dissolves into heat and empty air.

---------------------------------------------------

It's the same static, the rush of heat like wind in a wildfire. The hairs on Duck’s arm snap to attention as Joe leaps from his chair. The door on the ark shimmers and glows with alien majesty. Then two figures fall face-first on the floor and the light is gone.

“Are you alright?” Joe bends to help the first, feathered shape but it stands in a flurry of down, the hairy figure following suit.

“Yesyes, we are fine.” The feathery one looks like a massive moth with some human features.

“Oh.” Joe grins, “I’ve never seen a Sylph like you before. This, this is incredible.”

“You know what we are?” The other asks hopefully.

“We do. We, I’m, I’m Joseph Stern, and this is Duck Newton-”

“Thank the stars.” The mothman bends one knee, his friend doing the same, “yes, we are humble emissaries of the kingdom of Sylvain. We have searched for months to find our way to you. You, who prophecy says will aid us, return and take your rightful place as kings, and save our home once more.”

“No. Nuh-uh, not a fuckin chance.” Duck steps back, spots conflict in Joe’s eyes.

“What do you mean?” The mothman stands, “you, the prophecy, my visions showed you-”

“Then they showed fuckin wrong. I just got my life into some kind of order, I’m not letting you and some giant fuckin ape-thing drag me into another mess.”

Red eyes narrow, “Do not speak of Barclay that way.”

“I’ll speak about him however I damn well please because this is my house!”

“Technically, it’s my house.” Joe sighs, “But Duck is right. We almost died saving Sylvain once before. As, as much as I miss it, I’m not sure I can go back if it means risking our lives again. I was sort of hoping for a middle ground between being stuck here and a near-death adventure.”

“Please-” Barclay steps towards Joe.

“Hey, he said no, so fuck off.” Duck growls. The Sylph growls back.

“Buddy, do you have any idea how much we risked to get here? How much energy Indrid just used to open the gate. Oh, and, by the way, without the stuff we came here for we can’t go home. We’ll be stuck here.”

“Then you shoulda had a back-up plan instead of assumin you could just say a few fancy words and get us to go back. Oughta get some brains to go with the brawn there, big fella.”

“Enough” Indrid hisses, glaring at Duck. “I do not care if you are a chosen one, nothing gives you the right to speak to him, or to me, so callously. We came to you, you who are--if I did not make it clear--our last hope, and you respond with cruelty. I ought to teach you manners, but I will restrain myself.”

“Like to see you try.” He turns to where Joe is carding a hand through his hair, expression lost, “it’s your place, so you decide how we get rid of ‘em. But I’m done here.” With that, he stomps down the stairs, already suspecting Joe will let the Sylphs stay. When it becomes clear that’s the plan, Duck heads into the garden to work and stays there until all the lights are off.

It’s just after midnight when he wakes from a dream, slicing at the air while weak cries die on his tongue. He sits up, then goes gravestone still as the door opens. Indrid’s eyes are warning lights in the dark hall.

“Are you hurt? It did not seem fair to leave your calls unanswered.”

“No. Just had a, uh, a bad dream.”

The Sylph steps through the door, turning on the small, standing lamp, “It is strange to be the only one not waking in terror for once. Well, I suppose Barclay doesn’t.”

Duck tosses off the blanket, “Fuck, is Joe-”

“He is fine now. Barclay was up looking at cookbooks when he started screaming and went to him. Your friend did not wish to wake you, but was so shaken Barclay offered to stay with him.” A little smile, “he is very comforting. Soft, too.”

“You’re sure he was just dreamin? Not sick or anythin?”

“Positive. He was yelling in some other language.” Indrid fiddles with the knick-knacks on a shelf.

Duck runs a hand across his face, “Probably German.”

Indrid cocks his head.

“He had to learn it when he was a, uh, a spy in the last war. The one here. He...he got caught, I only know that because everyone talked about how miraculous it was that he escaped. Joe never talks about it.”

“One can imagine why.” Indrid murmurs.

“Then ‘one’ can probably imagine why I don’t want either of us near a goddamn battlefield.” Duck snaps.

“Is...oh dear, you think that is what we’re asking of you? Nono, we came here for help in preventing a war, one that may destroy both our worlds.”

“You coulda led with that, y’know?”

“I suppose. I, I am, or was, the court seer. But as the evil spread across our kingdom, it disrupted my powers. Now they’re gone entirely. It’s as if I am navigating the woods with no compass and no stars.” His antenna droop. Duck turns the chair near his bed in invitation. The Sylph moves quietly across the worn boards, “The last vision I received before they disappeared was of you two helping us; I saw a new timeline of futures, bright and hopeful, unfurl before it was gone. When you said you would not help us, it was like ripping my wings from my body mid-flight. That is why I was angry. Well, that and how you spoke to Barclay.”

“Sorry about that.” Duck scratches the back of his neck, “I just...when y’all showed up, all I could think about was bein back in the middle of a fight. Of, of seein Joe die.”

“I am sorry too. I did not know you had suffered such things.” Indrid picks at the blanket with chipped claws, “I cannot promise there would not be danger if you aid us. But I give you my word that you shall hear no more of it from me. I only wish for you to accept this quest if you wish to.”

“Thanks. That already puts you ahead of the last time.”

Indrid hums, then peers at Duck’s arm where a tattoo peeks from his shirt, “What is that?”

Duck rolls up his sleeve to reveal the pine tree, “got it because it helped me think of home.”

“Yes but how? To wear art on one’s skin, that is amazing. Do you think they could do it on mine?” He holds out his upper right arm. Duck runs a finger up it, thinking of the polished cherrywood on the table downstairs.

“Might be tricky. You need skin for it to work.”

“Blast.” Wings flutter once, “do you have more I may see?”

Duck unbuttons his shirt as Indrid scoots closer; if he’s not going to sleep tonight, at the very least he can make someone happy.

-------------------------------------

“Gotta say, y’all bein’ here is doin’ wonders for him.” Duck hands Barclay a glass of water as he joins him on the porch. Joseph and Indrid are sitting on a sunny path of lawn, Indrid showing the human his wings and explaining them in detail so he can make notes.

“Seems to go both ways. Indrid hasn’t been this animated since we left to find you two. He’s even more talkative.”

“Joe’s always been good at that. He can get anyone talkin, and can make almost anythin sound interestin.”

Barclay sneaks a glance at the human; he’s much friendlier these last two weeks, but his protectiveness of Joseph hasn’t waned.

“I wouldn’t say him cheering up is all on us. From what he told me, the week you got here made him feel like his cares were washing away.”

“Really?”

Barclay nods.

Duck sips his water, rubs the condensation with his thumb, “In, uh, in Sylvain, am I rememberin right that men could marry men? Ain’t always easy to tell when there’s so many kinds of beings runnin’ around.”

“Why wouldn’t that be okay? Some kinds of Sylphs, like Indrid’s, don’t even have things like men and women. I mean, when they offered you and Joseph a chance to rule as kings, the records make it sound like the two of you would have gotten married.”

Duck chokes on his water, splutters as Barclay pats his back, “I, fuck, I’d never, we’d never, I, fuck, definitely never ever didn’t think about it.”

Barclay lets the horrible excuse for a lie slide, “It’s a way bigger deal that Indrid chose me for this; being a seer makes him noble and I’m just a cook. Going off into the wild with me? Trusting me? Thought some of the ministers were gonna faint.”

“Was it just you helpin him or are you two, uh, y’know?”

“Yeah, I do. Can you blame me? Look at him” he gestures to where Indrid is spreading his wings so Joseph can study them. Stars would he like to go down there and hold the human tight while he taught him how to make Indrid purr.

“He really is somethin.” By the look on his face, Duck wants to do the same thing, just in reverse. After a moment, he murmurs, “the night before we were supposed to face the Red Devourer Joe and I were in the tent by the battlefield. Curled back to front, my arms around him and I could feel his heart beating hard as mine. Shoulda been thinkin about strategy, or prayin, or somethin’ like that, but all I could think was that I oughta kiss him, just in case we didn’t survive. But I didn’t. There were chances after that. I never took ‘em.”

“It’s not too late.”

“If you found out Indrid wanted to kiss you for years and was too chicken to, even when he thought he was gonna die, would you really let him?”

Barclay thinks of claws in his fur, of Indrid huddled against him and chirping softly when Barclay asked to kiss him.

“Of course I would.”

--------------------------------

“How long until the summer?” Indrid tosses the wool scarf Duck lent him over one wing.

“Months. Y’all got here in October, which means we ain’t even into the worst of the winter yet.”

An annoyed chirr, “We need more blankets.”

“Get you more when we’re in town tomorrow, fluffball. Hah, here’s some.” Duck kneels to cut some surviving leaves from a wild yarrow. They’re out in the woods because Indrid is running low on his feather oil, which keeps him from being miserable and itchy. He described what it did and let Duck smell some (it’s a bit like aloe and vanilla) so the human could reverse engineer what earth plants might do the trick.

Duck brushes off his pants, looks around, “Huh, we made it to the Maples. Joe’s aunt said she never got much from ‘em, but I don’t think she ever really tried.”

“What is special about them?”

“It’s how you get maple syrup. It’s in these trees.” Duck smirks, remembering Indrid licking the dregs from the bottle at the house with his long, long tongue.

Crunch

He whirls to his left, finds Indrid with both rows of teeth sunk into a maple branch. He giggles, then guffaws as the Sylph pulls off with an indignant chirp.

“You, you gotta, hee, you gotta tap the trunk, n-hee” he doubles over as Indrid bites the same branch while drumming his claws on the trunk, “not quite, need some other tools.”

“Perhaps lead with that?” Indrid grumbles, wiping bark from his face.

“S-sorry just, just didn’t expect you to go to town on it like that, heee”

Indrid grins, “It was worth it to hear you laugh like this.”

God, when was the last time he laughed this hard? The thought sobers him, his joy faltering like a bird in a storm. Then he cackles as four spindly arms hoist him into the air.

“ACKhey, put me down fluffball! Ahhno thatheee, that tickles.” He laughs louder as Indrid holds him to his chest and rubs his fuzzy face against his neck.

“I thought that might do the trick” Indrid purrs, nuzzles his cheek, “no more despair, Duck Newton. Not today.”

Duck turns his face so they’re eye to eye, pine green to ruby red, “Deal.”

---------------------------------------------

“I found everything on the list.” Joseph crumples the note paper and tosses it away as Barclay gleefully unpacks the shopping bags.

“This is so fucking great, I can’t wait for you guys to try this, and Indrid is going to lose his mind when he sees what I made. This dessert is his favorite.” He tucks the heavy cream and pears into the fridge.

“I’m excited to try it. We definitely didn’t eat any tarts when we were in Sylvain. The badgers who hid us from the red mist were, I think, pretty poor.”

“Yeah, the borderlands were bad off in those days. I was just a kid too but I remember digging out roots to try and make some kind of soup.” The Sylph turns those endearing brown eyes on him, “up for being my kitchen assistant again?”

“Always.” Joseph tucks a dishcloth into his belt. He’s very proud of himself for finding earth equivalents to all the ingredients Barclay needed to make a fall dinner from home. Having the Sylphs living with them means he goes into Kepler more often for groceries or goods to fix up the house. Everyone in town thinks his childhood friend is a good influence, getting him out of the stuffy confines of the October House.

They’re not wrong. When Joseph saw Duck in the doorway, a little world-worn but just as kind, just as practical as he always was, he decided that if the other man didn’t want to return to Sylvain, Joseph would set the project aside. He’d focus on the world he was in, because with Duck there he might yet find things to marvel at, things to discover that weren’t mired in the mundanity of human evil. They’d make the October House into a home, live out their days as bachelors.

Then Barclay had come through, auburn-furred and so gentle Joseph wanted to make like butter in the sun and melt. And Indrid, magnificent and vulnerable (and very infatuated with Duck). When Duck announced he’d help them look for clues to stopping the war, Joseph felt buried bits of his mind rising to the light of the new challenge.

After dinner, they take a pot of coffee into the living room. Indrid is delighted by records, is already putting one on as Barclay puts wood on the fire. The seer lays on the rug, head in his lovers lap and purring low.

Love me like there's no tomorrow

kiss me like it's goin' out of style

“You know, I wonder how one dances to this. It is not fast, but the rhythm is not like the formal dances at court.”

“Here, I’ll show you.” Duck stands, offering Joseph his hand. Lord, he’s pictured this so many times but still has to coax his own hand to move, “Joe, you’re leadin.”

He settles his hand on Duck’s hip and holds the other, concentrates on swaying them to the beat.

Hold me like you're afraid I might get away

Love like I've been gone for quite a while

“You can come closer, Joe. I ain’t gonna bite. Not in front of company.”

“I’m holding you to that.” He presses closer, prays for Duck to rest his head on his shoulder.

Take and wrap me in the package

my future my presence and my past

And love me like there's no tomorrow

and each day might be our last

“Dearest, I am rather tired from that lovely meal you made. Shall we retire?”

“Good thinking, little moth.”

Love me like there's no tomorrow

Make each night one more remembered

we will let the heaven be our guide

“Seems they didn’t need much of a demonstration.”

“Not sure that was Indrid’s endgame.”

Just love me like there's no tomorrow

and keep me right by your side

Joseph tips his head down, whispering, “What was?”

Keep me right by your side

“Duck?”

In the crackle of silence between songs, Duck brings their lips together. Joseph forgoes their stance and pulls him against him, their hearts magnets that were finally turned the right way. Then his feet stumble on the rug, Duck pushing him back with a ferocity he didn’t know he possessed.

Joseph drops into the chair, Duck pouncing before as he breathes. Joseph growls, the hunger that’s been chained threatening to crack his chest from the inside, and nips Duck’s lower lip.

“I said no bitin.”

“You said you wouldn’t bite.”

“You're right, darlin’” Duck cups his cheek as Joseph grips his thighs, “I’m gonna do so much more than bite.”

----------------------------------------

It never gets easier, waking from these dreams steeped in shame, fear, and sweat. Except this time someone’s arms are around him.

“I’m right here Joe, we’re here, we’re safe.”

“Very safe.” Indrid stands behind Barclay in the doorway, “another dream?’

“Yes. I, um, I-” he reaches for Barclay without meaning to, is ready to apologize when the Sylph slides into bed beside him.

“Is this okay?” It’s directed at both the humans.

“Yes.”

“Uh huh.”

Barclay adjusts so Joseph can hide his face in his chest. He should ask Indrid if he wants to be on the bed as well, the poor Sylph might think he’s not wanted-

“C’mon fluffball, my back is gettin cold.”

A delighted chirp and then a wing, black with a grey and red eyespot, drapes across him and Duck.

“Mmmmmm, I knew you would be lovely to hold.”

“Aim to please, sugar.”

“What happens now?” Barclay murmurs.

“My vote is we all get some sleep and work out the particulars in the mornin’.”

“Seconded” Joseph mumbles.

“We will need a good night’s rest; tomorrow I make the disguises for myself and Barclay so that we may begin our wider search.”

“Hope you guys like them.”

Joseph squeezes Barclay, smiling as Duck wiggles closer and Indrid’s wing grows heavier, “We’ll love them no matter what, big guy.”

#OT4: Government men and their cryptid boyfriends #sternclay #indruck #inclay #agent stern/duck newton #meet ugly #taz amnesty #agent stern/ barclay

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kar-krashew · 3 years

Text

@arsenic-creator THIS IS THE CHEESIEST THING I'VE EVER WRITTEN BUT HERE'S YOUR CARS AU MALEC FIC.

(Rated T for language).

----

There are a lot of things that Alec misses about life outside this shitty little town, even though he’s only been here for a few days: his family, his friends, his cell phone— he could go on for a while. Hell, he even misses Aldertree’s incessant bragging at this point, which is a little concerning, because the man is a menace and just generally unpleasant to be around. The fact that Alec has not had a very public fistfight with him yet is a goddamn miracle.

But— he’s getting distracted. The point is, there are a lot of things on that list.

So, it’s genuinely impressive when Simon shows up and rambles for long enough that all Alec really misses now is some peace and quiet, because Simon does not know when to shut up, oh my god—

“What happens if you get pulled over on the road and you don’t have your license on you? Do the cops just let you go? I mean, you are a world famous racer, so it would be assumed that you know how to drive, right?” he pesters, “Or do you still get in trouble?”

Alec groans. He’s been dealing with this for the better part of an hour now, and throwing himself into a nearby cactus plant has never seemed more appealing. Simon, ruiner of lives and seemingly oblivious to Alec’s current temperament, barrels on steadily in his rant about cops and racers until they approach the main part of the plaza, where he suddenly pauses and grins.

Dread claws its way up Alec’s shoulders. Simon grinning like that can only bring bad things.

“So,” the kid drawls, “Where are you staying tonight? Anywhere special? In the spare bedroom of a local attorney, by the name of Magnus Bane, perhaps?”

Scratch that: Alec’s going to throw Simon into a nearby cactus plant, and he won’t even feel a little bit guilty. He could make it look like an accident and everything.

“Fuck off, Simon,” he scowls. He tries increasing his pace to ditch the kid, but Simon is nothing if not persistent. “Don’t you have anything else to be doing right now?”

“Nope.” Simon pops the word in his mouth, grin growing even wider. “You like him. Like, like-like him!” he declares, leaning in closer. “If it helps, I think he likes you, too.”

“Are we fifth graders now? Is that what’s happening?” Alec pointedly ignores the blush threatening to take over his face, and glowers down at the brunette. “Besides, he’s just being nice. It doesn’t have to mean something.” He’d meant to sound firm and sure when he said it, but his voice tapers off and gets soft instead, and now Alec is considering committing multiple misdemeanors if it means he’ll get out of this conversation. Simon shoots him a knowing look.

“But you want it to mean something,” he observes. Alec rolls his eyes, not bothering to grace the statement with a response. Simon takes it as an open invitation to start singing a very loud and terrible rendition of a song about Alec and Magnus sitting in a tree, and it’s enough for Alec to give in and violently shove the other.

Unfortunately, Simon does not hit any of the cacti nearby.

God, Alec hates this town.

---

The thing about Magnus Bane is that, well—

The man is fucking beautiful. Like, holy-shit-Alec-can't-breathe-around-him beautiful, with golden skin and kohl-lined eyes and dark hair and a jawline that Alec would love to get up close and personal with.

The first time they’d met, Alec made a complete ass out of himself by stumbling all over his words in court and then had gotten himself stuck doing community service, largely because of Magnus, for the god-forsaken town he’d managed to land himself in.

(Look, it’s not his fault that he somehow managed to destroy the town’s main road after veering wildly off course and out of control on his way to Brooklyn, okay? These things happen.)

It had kind of been all downhill from there.

But now, somehow, he’s lying in Magnus’s spare bedroom and watching the sunlight as it touches everything in the room with its golden glow, illuminating the walls, the potted plants, the shelves, the man leaning against the doorway—

“Holy shit!”

Alec scrambles to sit up in bed, frantically pulling up the sheets to his bare chest, as Magnus laughs. “Magnus!” Alec squeaks. “I, um, what’re you doing here?”

Magnus grins, rounding the corner of the bed to place a tray in front of Alec. “I thought I’d bring you breakfast,” he says, “before I asked you if you wanted to go for a drive.”

Alec frowns. “A drive?”

“A drive,” Magnus repeats, shrugging a shoulder. “I wanted to show you something, and took the liberty of filling your car up with gas again.”

“Wha— Why? You don’t think I’ll try leaving town again?” The only reason Alec hadn’t been able to leave when he first tried had been the lack of fuel in his tank, so he’s genuinely confused as to why Magnus decided to change that.

“I don’t know, will you?” the other asks. He tilts his head, looking gentle and blurred in his robe and smiling softly, something warm cradled in his eyes, and Alec knows with sudden certainty that he won’t. He might’ve said yes a few days ago, but now?

“No,” he replies. “I won’t.”

“That’s that, then,” Magnus beams, and Alec can’t help beaming back a little stupidly. “I trust you. Now, finish up, Alexander. We’ve got daylight to catch.”

---

“Where do you want me to go?”

They’re both sitting in Alec’s car, windows rolled down, on an old road leading away from the interstate. It’s beautiful out here— green trees circling a little lake tucked in between the rocks and dirt— but Alec has a feeling it’s not what Magnus wanted to show him.

“Just follow the path,” Magnus instructs, unbuckling his seatbelt. He turns to Alec and winks, before hoisting himself so that he’s sitting halfway out of the window, laughing at Alec’s surprised yelp and swerve of the car. “Careful there, hotshot!” he giggles, then leans further out like he’s got a fucking death wish, closing his eyes against the wind.

“Are you insane?” Alec yells out, and Magnus laughs harder.

“All the best people are, darling!” he responds. “I’ll be just peachy. Just keep going, we’re about to get to my favorite part!”

Alec’s about to yell out again, probably something like you have a favorite part of almost dying? or I think I’m halfway in love with you as they pass through a rocky tunnel, but before he can say either, his breath catches at the sight in front of him.

A huge, sparkling waterfall cascades down from the mountains, overlooking the rocky canyon and trees below it, framing the bridge that hangs in between. It almost doesn’t look real, more like something out of a corny road trip movie or a documentary, and Alec slows down as they approach it, taking it in. Magnus grins as they pass by, leaning out to catch errant drops of water on his fingertips, and God, it’s such a cliché and cheesy thing to do, and Alec wants to kiss him straight on his stupid mouth.

“I bet you don’t see that out in the city,” Magnus says smugly, tucking himself back into the car. He glances back at Alec with a smirk on his lips, running a hand through his wind-mussed hair. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”

“Yeah,” Alec breathes, staring at Magnus’s flushed cheeks and bright eyes. “It really is.”

(Fuck, now he’s the one being cliché. Izzy’s going to find out about this somehow and laugh at him forever.)

“Right.” Magnus clears his throat, looking away, jarring Alec back to reality. “We’re almost there, just pull up at the sign there,” he continues, pointing to a clearing ahead.

Alec coughs, nodding. “Right. Yes. The sign.”

The sign in question is a small landmark that points to a dilapidated, out-of-place building hidden between the rock of the mountain. “The Hotel Dumont,” the front reads, paint chipped away at the edges of the letters. The building looks Victorian in design, with intricate arches decorating the front, though many of them are cracked and gray now, and there’s a large open courtyard area in the front that appears abandoned now. It must’ve been beautiful, once. Now, it carries only echoes of a world passed.

“What is this place?” Alec asks. Magnus shakes his head and exits the car, then stands and stares at the sign for a while when Alec joins him.

“This used to be their livelihood,” he finally says, “The Hotel Dumont. Raphael used to run it, and everyone else would pitch in. You wouldn’t believe what it looked like earlier: parties in the main hall, music playing in the foyer, people laughing. It kept them going.”

“What happened?”

Magnus smiles wistfully. “A famous racer by the name of Valentine dropped a particularly scathing review of the hotel after Raphael caught him harassing customers and kicked him out. Had enough influence and lawyers to destroy all of this place’s credibility. These days, everyone’s barely getting by. It’s why they took so long to warm up to you; you essentially represent everything that ruined them.”

That’s horrible, Alec wants to say, but instead he looks over at Magnus and notes his glittering makeup and golden rings and silk tunic and blurts out, “Then how did you end up here?” and immediately winces.

It’s a valid question, technically— Magnus obviously wasn’t one of the town’s original residents, if his extravagant nature and the way he discusses the hotel are any indication— but still. Alec could’ve been gentler about it.

“I was an attorney in L.A, actually,” Magnus sighs. “It was good, I suppose, and money was never an issue, but I don’t think I was happy.” He shuffles closer to Alec as they idle in front of the building, brushing their shoulders together. “Got myself horribly drunk one night and made a whole plan to run away and leave the city behind. I woke up the next day, saw the plans, decided I might as well, and just started driving until my car finally broke down here.”

They’re silent for a moment, and Alec reaches out to touch his fingertips to Magnus’s comfortingly. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I can’t imagine what that must’ve felt like.”

Magnus turns to face him completely then, looking up at him knowingly. “Can’t you?” he asks. He takes Alec’s palms in his own and holds their hands between them. “Are you happy out there, Alexander?”

Alec blinks, startled. “Of course I am,” he protests automatically, because why wouldn’t he be? He’s rich, he’s famous, he’s doing what he loves; it’s all perfect. And yet—

He thinks about the constant pressure from his family and fans to be perfect and flashy and smiling all the time. He thinks back to his mother’s desperate attempts to hide his sexuality from the media, setting him up for meeting after meeting with beautiful women. He thinks about the façade he’s made for himself against the person he is right now, standing here with Magnus, and realizes that they’ve never been the same.

“I don’t know,” he finally admits. “I— I’m not sure.”

Magnus hums. He looks back at the hotel, Alec’s hands still clutched in his own. “You don’t have to leave, you know. You could stay here,” he says.

Alec surveys the landscape, then the man in front of him. “Yeah,” he agrees, “I think I could.”

---

He never gets to find out, because the next day it all goes to hell: Maryse Lightwood descends on the town, armed with a fleet of reporters and a truck waiting to take Alec away.

“We’re going now, Alec,” she demands. “Say goodbye to your ‘friends’ if you need to, and then we’re leaving.” She glances warily over at Magnus, who’s holding Alec’s hand, and frowns before she turns on her heel and walks away.

“So,” Magnus says flatly, “It appears you’re finally getting to that race.”

Alec wants to scream. He hates this, hates that this is how it’s going to end, before it’s even truly begun. If he just had more time—

“Magnus, I wanted to—” he starts, “I wish we—” He exhales, running a hand through his hair exasperatedly, and Magnus smiles.

“It’s alright, Alexander. Just stay in touch, okay?” He pats Alec’s shoulder. “Go on, darling. I don’t think your mother would appreciate me keeping you any longer than I already have.”

Alec hesitates a moment more, wanting to do something, anything, to make this different, but then he swallows and steps away.

“Okay,” he murmurs. “I’ll, I’ll call you.”

(It won’t change anything: his life will be exactly the same as it was before. Just one phone call added onto the routine. They both know this is goodbye to whatever they could be.)

Still, Magnus squeezes his fingers and keeps smiling. “I’ll be waiting, Alexander,” he says.

“Sure,” Alec replies uselessly.

So he’s here now, weeks later, sitting on the stands and supposedly getting ready for a race that he doesn’t have heart in anymore.

Honestly, fuck this race. They all go the same way: he’ll race, he’ll win or lose, he’ll pose with some model for a newspaper, and that’ll be it. It used to be enough for him, once.

“Alec?” a voice interrupts, “You okay?”

It’s Izzy, crackling through the comms piece in his ear. Alec clears his throat. “Yeah,” he replies, hoping his voice doesn’t sound as brittle over the mic as it feels, “I’m fine.”

He’ll swallow his emotions and make it enough, again.

“Alright,” Izzy concedes, but she sounds disbelieving, “If you say so. It’s almost time, you might want to head to the car soon, okay?”

Alec hums in the affirmative, heading down to the track, paparazzi trying their best to bombard him. He takes a deep breath, avoiding the cameras, and opens the driver's side door of the car.

He’ll call Magnus after this. It’ll be enough.

Alec ducks under the roof of the vehicle. “Hey, Izzy?” he calls, seating himself behind the wheel. “If I win, remind me to call Magnus, okay?”

“I’m afraid that would be a little redundant, darling,” a new voice replies, and Alec’s heart skips a beat. “Given that you’ll be talking to me already.”

Magnus.

“Magnus?” Alec fucking leaps out of his car, searching frantically around the pit for the man in his ear. A warm laugh floods the comms, and Alec feverishly pushes past cameramen and well-meaning assistants (who are trying to remind him that he really should be in his car right now) in his desperation, only to turn around and:

It’s him. It’s really him, smiling warmly at Alec with his gorgeous brown eyes, wearing black eyeliner to match the Lightwood tracksuit he’s wearing, and Alec missed him so much, oh god, he’s really here—

“Magnus,” he breathes, then he’s throwing his helmet down and closing the distance between them and pulling at Magnus’s lapels, up, up, up, and straight to his own mouth.

He’s kissing him.

Magnus is gripping onto his face too tightly and Alec is clacking their teeth together too harshly, but it’s Magnus, and it’s perfect, and Alec is kissing him, and he could lose every race from this moment on and still feel like he’s on top of the world if it means he’ll get to have this.

“You came,” he whispers when they finally pull apart. Magnus cups his face, stealing another kiss, before he responds.

“Of course I did. Honestly, I’m offended you didn’t ask for me to show up here, yourself,” he teases, and Alec grins bashfully.

“I didn’t think you’d want to,” he replies. Magnus rolls his eyes before pressing their foreheads together.

“Well, darling, we better change that soon, hm?” He twirls his fingers at the nape of Alec’s neck, and time feels like it's perfect and frozen forever in this moment, until Magnus clears his throat.

“I hate to interrupt this, Alexander, but there’s a race and a very excited group of reporters waiting for you, and you should probably get back to both. Unless, of course, you’re not planning to participate?”

Alec snorts and pulls away, loosening his grip around Magnus’s waist. “I plan on participating, Magnus,” he says. “I have a very special someone I’d like to dedicate the trophy to, if they’re open to the idea.”

Magnus grins. “Mmm, you’d have to win, first, wouldn’t you?” he winks, and Alec smirks back.

“For you?” he replies. “I’d do nothing less.”

Alec knows that he’s going to have an absolute media shitstorm waiting for him after he ends this race. But, looking back at a beaming Magnus as he picks his helmet up, he thinks it just might be worth it.

God, Alec loves that town. He's not sure why he ever thought otherwise.

#my writing #fic #malec fic #malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #cars #this is a fucking cars au #im not even ashamed #simon lewis #Simon is MATER lmao #shadowhunters #life is a highway blares in the background

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the-cult-of-russo · 3 years

Text

Push and Pull (Part 15)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OC

Warnings: cursing, smut

---------

It was bright and early when Daphne woke up the next morning. She had things to do and no time to waste. The sun was shining through her window, the weather finally starting to get warmer. She put on some leggings with a tank top and then her zip up hoodie over it. She groaned at her hair in the mirror as she dragged her brush through the unruly locks. So many times she considered cutting it so it wasn't so much work, but she knew she'd regret it. Instead, she settled on tossing it up into a high pony and ignoring it. Her trusty backpack was slung around her shoulder and she hopped around as she put her vans on before leaving the apartment.

She squinted slightly at the light once she got out of the building but it didn't deter her. First stop. Coffee. One large latte to go later, she was on her way to see Brett to find out what news he might have. She tossed her now empty cup in the trash can beside the station before she jogged up the steps and inside. She never checked in with the desk, she was a ghost when she was here. That's how it worked. It wasn't such a secret anymore than she was on Brett's payroll which left her to come and go as she pleased, but officially, she was never there. When she walked into the office area, Brett was sitting at his desk just like the day before. He looked like he hadn't even gone home.

"You look like shit," she mused teasingly, putting down the other coffee she'd gotten for him. His eyes lit up at the sight of it and he gave her a tired smile.

"You're an angel," he muttered with a long pull from his drink as she sat down. The coffee at the precinct was the worst and never really did its job.

"Any news yet?" She tried to hide the impatience in her voice but she wasn't sure she succeeded.

"Actually, we do have something. Not quite sure the full details yet though," he murmured. She looked at him expectantly.

"The people we rescued, their fingertips were burnt right off just like the last time. We can't identify most of 'em until they're fully coherent. But they're doing alright. I just can't believe the Chinese were at it again right under our goddamn noses," he fumed, taking another slurp of his coffee.

"I'm not surprised. They probably picked it back up when the heat turned off them again," she sighed. She hoped that once the victims were in a better state they'd be able to get names from them. Some of them might have family that were looking for them.

"Anything from the device?" She asked hopefully

"Yeah, actually. The Chinese requested the meet. They were pretty vague about a lot of shit but they kept saying something about the Italians having a weapon and they wanted to use it. Seemed to be brokering a deal about it. I got no idea what the hell this weapon is, but the Chinese really fucking want it and the Italians already have it. And that makes me nervous as shit," he frowned.

It made her nervous too. What did the Italians have that the Chinese couldn't get for themselves? And why did they want it?

"Well that's unsettling," she huffed with a shake of her head.

"Tell me about it. Good news though, that device you planted must be well hidden. It’s still live and active," he flashed her a grin and she smiled herself as she gave herself a mental pat on the back.

"Do you think it'll be useful?" She inquired.

"No telling yet. I mean mostly it'll be the kitchen staff but it might pick up something. Any other meets we might not be aware of or anyone saying something. Even something small can lead to something big, right?" He smirked, practically quoting her. It made her chuckle.

"At least that's something. If we can figure out what weapon the Italians have we can figure out how bad this all is," she said softly. It made her nervous and she had a feeling things would get messy soon in Hell's Kitchen.

"Here's hoping. There ain't much for you to do with the case right now but I'll let you know when we get any more information. It's just a waiting game now," he replied.

"Ah, my favourite," she smirked sarcastically, causing him to snort. She wasn't known for having patience. She liked answers and she liked them immediately. But in this case, playing the long game would be the only option to getting to the bottom of it all.

She bid her goodbyes to him not long after that before making her way back out into the sunshine. Now it was her next pit stop. A short cab ride later and she was at a very fancy luxurious home. It was more like a mansion and was three stories high. It looked like it was right out of a movie with one of those grand entrances and a water feature out front. She was well out of place as dressed down as she was but she knocked on the door anyway. She wasn't even surprised when a butler answered the door.

"Can I help you, miss?" The older man asked softly. His black and white uniform was crisp and clean and it put her own rumpled clothes to shame.

"I'm here to see Mrs Grimes. I'm Daphne Weaver," she replied awkwardly.

"One moment please," he shut the door and she quirked her brow at how formal all this was. This better pay well. Suddenly the door opened again and he smiled at her.

"This way please. She's been hoping you'd come," he seemed a little friendlier now. Maybe it was because his boss wanted her here so he wasn't all suspicious of what she wanted. Either way, she followed him inside. He led her up the huge ass staircase, the kind that split off at the middle. Everything looked like it cost a million dollars, from the art to all the rare looking things in cabinets. She didn't even feel worthy enough to touch the banister so she kept her hands in her hoodie pocket.

The carpet was lush and a deep purple colour and she found her eyes wandering the hallway they walked down. How many rooms does someone need? No wonder she had staff, upkeep on this place would be a ball ache. They reached a room far down the left and he knocked on the heavy looking mahogany door.

"Enter," a female voice rang out. It was slightly accented but she couldn't place it. Jeeves opened the door and gestured for her to go inside. She glanced around the room curiously as she walked in. It was a living area with a grand fire. Heavy bookcases lined the walls of the room and were filled with what looked to be antique books that Daphne found herself wanting to look at. There was a giant fur rug in front of the fireplace with velvet looking sofas set in front of it.

That's where Mrs Grimes was sitting, looking perfectly in place for where she was. She was wearing a long black dress, heels bigger than anything Daphne could ever walk in. Her greying blonde hair was neatly coiffed and pinned up and she was dripping in diamonds. Jesus.

"Pleasure to meet you Ms Weaver, please sit," she smiled warmly at her, gesturing to the other sofa. Daphne was half worried her vans would dirty the goddamn carpet as she padded over and plonked down. Despite it being completely over the top and not really her taste, she did appreciate however how clean and neat everything was kept. A place like this could easily fall into being cluttered and dusty but it was pristine. She supposed the staff were to thank for that. Mrs Grimes' nails were so long she doubted she could do much cleaning herself. Daphne wasn't sure how she didn't accidentally gauge her own eyes out.

"Would you like something to drink?" She asked politely. Jeeves was still hovering near the door no doubt waiting for his command. She was tempted to say yes to see what kind of beverages the other side drank, but she didn't want to stay long.

"Uh… no thank you. I'm fine," she replied with an awkward smile.

"Very well. Hammond, leave us," she dismissed the man at the door. He gave a dramatic nod before he left and shut the door behind him. She idly wondered if he ever wanted to punch his bosses when they commanded him to do things like that. She'd never be able to hold a job like that down.

"I'm glad you came, I was worried you wouldn't," the older woman started, elegantly crossing one leg over the other.

"A job's a job," Daphne snorted lightly, her hands still stuffed in her pockets lest she touch something and ruin it. Mrs Grimes gave her a tense smile, looking like it was difficult to be polite. Maybe she wasn't used to the lower class being in her home.

"Indeed it is. Will you take the case?" She asked hopefully.

"Yeah, I'll be able to do it. As I tell all my clients, I don't give out time frames. I never know how long it'll take me to find what I need or what roadblocks might come up. I don't appreciate impatience and it doesn't make me work any faster," she said firmly. Establishing boundaries was the first thing she liked to do. It was important. Especially with the wealthy ones as in her experience they tended to be the impatient ones with their self importance.

"Very well. I accept your terms. And please, whatever you find, do tell me," she implored. Daphne nodded, she always did no matter how shitty the information she'd gained was. Mrs Grimes stood, walking somehow with grace and ease in those monster heels as she walked over to a cupboard near the wall. She opened a drawer and came back with some paper.

"Me and my husband used to be very much in love. And I'm afraid now that I'm older he's decided to find other companions. Call me paranoid but I'm sure you understand when to look into a gut feeling," she mused as she walked back over and sat down. Daphne nodded again. Her gut was rarely wrong and it was telling her that Mrs Grimes was right.

"I want confirmation. I want to know who with and how deep it runs. If it's just physical or something more. I want to prepare myself should he try to divorce me and take what I have. I need proof," she stated seriously. Daphne's eyes subconsciously swept across the room and all the fancy things in it.

"I know what you're thinking. And I was the one with money, not him. He makes a decent amount with his job but I was born with money. This house was passed through my family for generations. Everything in it I bought. But over the years I've had my eyes opened to how greedy my husband can be. I cannot trust if we separate that he won't try to take everything from me," she sounded bitter and Daphne wasn't surprised. They definitely sounded like they had issues and once trust was gone in a relationship, everything else had no foundation to stand on. It wouldn't last. She commended the woman for thinking ahead to make sure she was protected if it came down to it. This kind of bullshit was why relationships were too much work.

"I'll find out what I can. I'll be honest, some of my methods aren't quite… legal. But it gets the job done," Daphne muttered. Things like breaking and entering were definitely illegal and then there was hacking if she ever needed to do it, which in this case might prove useful.

"Good," Mrs Grimes smirked at her. She found herself smirking back at her. The rich typically didn't care too much about how she got the information, just that she got it. Mrs Grimes reached down to her Gucci purse, setting it on her lap and she grabbed something out of it. It was her wallet and Daphne was curious what her offer would be. She hadn't spoken to her about price points yet and when it came to her wealthier clients she made a point of waiting to see what their offer would be first. Usually she’d haggle a little just because she could. They'd have the money and they wanted the information.

She watched with a keen eye as Mrs Grimes took a chunk of money out and handed it to her. A quick count told her it was $1000 and it took effort for her eyes to not bulge out as she kept a cool calm facade.

"That's the deposit. You'll get the rest when the work is complete. Another $1000. I may give you more depending on just how much you find out," she drawled. So she wouldn't need to haggle then, this price was insane and way more than what the job would entail, but like fuck she would tell her that. She also appreciated the incentive. She liked a challenge, something to work towards. The more she found out then the more she'd get paid.

"Sounds good to me. I'll get started in the next few days," she replied, keeping her calm demeanour and not acting like she was thinking of what she would spend her money on once she got it all. She carefully stuffed it in her backpack before zipping it back up. She almost jumped when the older woman dinged a bell beside the table and it took all of her willpower not to roll her eyes as the butler walked in.

"Yes, Mrs Grimes?" He enquired politely.

"Please see Ms Weaver out. Have one of our drivers drop her off to wherever she needs to go," she commanded softly. Part of her wanted to protest but the other wanted to pretend she lived the fancy life, even if just for a moment.

They both stood and Mrs Grimes took her hand in one of those fancy people hand shakes that were flimsy and light.

"It was a pleasure, Ms Weaver. I hope to hear from you soon," she smiled.

"Likewise," she replied, not really knowing what to say. No matter how many well off clients she saw she always felt weird and out of place interacting with them. She followed Jeeves out the hall and down the large stairs case. He stopped when he got by the front door and picked up a phone that was attached to the wall. She stood there looking around as the man spoke in hushed tones down the receiver before hanging up and then opening the grand front door.

"Have a lovely day, Ms Weaver," he bowed politely.

"Uh… you too," she murmured as she stepped outside.

The door shut with a clang behind her and she was suddenly on her own outside. It didn't last long though as a large black car pulled up right at the entryway.

"Ms Weaver?" A man called out after rolling the window down. She nodded and walked over. She was getting sick of being called that name. The man hopped out, jogging over to the back of the car and opening the door for her. This really was fancy service. She gave him an uncomfortable smile, not used to this level of service from anyone. It felt wrong almost. But she slipped inside and settled in the ridiculously comfy car seats.

"Where to, Miss?" The man asked once he was situated behind the wheel again.

"Um… Fogwell's gym please," she murmured in response. He punched in something on the phone he was using with the GPS and then he took off. There was a reason she was dressed the way she was after all. She didn't want to think of Matt being a weird asshole the day before. As much as part of her considered not going, she really needed to train and she knew he would be there. She was too stubborn to let Matt's weird PMSing get in the way of her learning to defend herself properly.

The drive was uncomfortably silent and she clutched her backpack on her knees. She wondered what it was like to live this life full time. She was a bitch but she didn't feel right with commanding people to do shit, even if she was paying them. It just felt off to her. Before long, the car pulled up in front of the gym. She almost felt like she should pay him or something, totally not used to this kind of exchange. As she unbuckled her seat belt, the man got out and ran around to her door. He opened it and she slipped out, swinging her bag over her shoulder. She noticed the apprehensive look on his face as he looked at the rundown gym.

"Are you sure, Miss?" He asked quietly, like he was asking her to blink twice if she needed help. She almost snorted but gave him a polite smile. She guessed his boss wasn't used to being around places like this. She appreciated his sentiments all the same though.

"I'm sure," she said softly. He nodded, still looking unhappy about it but there was nothing he could do. With a nod, he was back in the car and taking off by the time she walked through the door.

She was quiet and heard loud grunting and the hits of a punching bag. As she came into view, she saw Matt beating the holy hell out of the bag. His fists were flying, grunts and pants leaving his lips with the flurry of punches. The graceful savagery was what always intrigued her about him. But then typically he'd open his mouth and ruin it. He hadn't seemed to notice her yet once again which honestly was perturbing since anyone could come in here and sneak up on him like that. She walked over to the bench, setting her backpack down with a thud. The grunts and punches stopped instantly and the only sound that echoed in the gym was Matts heavy breathing.

"Didn't think you'd show," he said carelessly.

"I wasn't sure either honestly. But I need to train, even if I do have to put up with your bitch ass," she muttered as she started wrapping her hands. He scoffed as he came over, grabbing his water bottle and drinking a large pull from it. He tossed the bottle down again as he made his way to the ring.

"Alright, come on then," he demanded.

"What? I don't get to warm up first?" She asked skeptically with a raised brow. He snorted coldly and shook his head.

"You wanna know how to defend yourself for real, there is no warming up. When you're out there in a situation like this, you don't get that luxury," he retorted. She rolled her eyes but honestly couldn't argue with sound logic.

Instead, she bit her tongue as she put on the gloves and climbed inside of the ring. Matt cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders as they squared off with one another.

"Let's go," he smirked devilishly. He lunged at her but she moved just in time, twirling around as they practically traded places. They started trading blows, although his were very clearly intended not to hurt her, and she was pleased she got some good jabs in. She didn't slow down or stop this time when he deflected or managed a light shot to her side. She just came back twice as hard. She was proud of herself. Her heart was thumping away from the adrenaline and the exertion of the sparring after a while and she leaned against the ropes as they both caught their breath.

"You did good. You're getting better," he sounded reluctant to give her the praise and she rolled her eyes a little at him.

"I want you to teach me how to get out of the hold from last time," she said firmly. His head turned to her then, his hazel eyes not quite landing directly at her as he narrowed them.

"Daphne, I don't think-" he started, only to be promptly cut off.

"It's fine. I need to learn and I'll get over it. I think I'll be fine this time," she urged. She meant it too. She still had lingering effects of her attack but she was feeling a little better recently. And after her and Matt's partially regrettable night together, she hadn't had a nightmare for the first night since it happened. She knew the sex had helped. Whenever she needed to feel better and clear her head, she would have sex. It's why her sister was so worried it would become a crux for her. Her sex with Matt had done wonders for her stress and anxiety over the whole thing so she felt like now was the perfect time to try to learn it.

He was quiet for a moment before heaving a heavy sigh. He yanked his gloves off and tossed them out of the ring and she followed suit before he changed his mind. Climbing to the floor, she lay on her back and bent her knees just like the last time. As he knelt down between her legs, it was hard not to think of the night they shared together and how similar it was.

"Ready?" He asked reluctantly. She gave him a firm nod he couldn't see but could sense and he brought his hands to her throat. Once again, he applied very little pressure but she lay perfectly still. Her heart wasn't hammering like crazy, she wasn't seeing Keiran hovering over her. She was fine. Matt stayed still as he did his head tilt thing and it took her a moment to realise he was listening to her heartbeat to check if she was okay or not. It was kind of creepy but she let it go.

He talked her through the steps of how to get out of that kind of hold. One at a time he'd tell her what to do and correct her if she got it wrong as they did a slow mo version one part at a time to ensure she knew each step. It was more complicated than the last one but after a few step by step tries she thought she had a good idea on what to do. Now it was time to get out of it for real.

"3, 2 ,1," he counted, preparing her somewhat so she didn't lose her shit like last time. This time he applied some pressure around her throat but it was still practically nothing. She felt his weight bearing down on her and she grabbed his right forearm with her left and then used her right hand to grip his left shoulder in a cross grip. Using her left foot, she pushed off his hip, pivoting her pelvis to the right so he was no longer directly above her. She hooked her right leg high up on his back, right under his armpit and she kept a firm grip on him as her left leg moved to wrap around his shoulder too, locking it onto her other. She grabbed his wrist, the one that was in her grip that was now at her mercy on her chest. She knew if she thrust her pelvis upwards sharply she would break his arm at his elbow.

It had happened so fast but she caught herself before completing the maneuver and felt pleased with herself. She let go of his arm and rolled them over so he was now under her. They were both panting and she laughed lightly, feeling good she actually did it. She was a little sweaty and she looked down at where he lay under her. His brow had a slight sheen to his and his hair was doing that thing where it went every which way. His eyes were wandering as he caught his breath with a grin. She wasn't the only one enjoying their session it seemed.

She felt his hands glide up her thighs that were around him and she'd be a liar if she said it didn't make her tingle. His unseeing eyes were burning into her, pupils blown wide. She went to move off him but he held her in place, only now she was hovering right in front of his face. One of his hands rested on the base of her neck and he pulled her down a little. She stayed still though and resisted as her lips were a breath away from his.

"We're not on the same page, remember?" She teased him, enjoying seeing him this worked up. She squeaked when her back hit the mat when he rolled them over quickly. She hadn't expected it.

"I'm over it," he smirked devilishly at her before his lips collided with hers.

She should have really stopped to think about it. To assess the validity of his words. But sex with Matt was something else and it made her feel amazing. All her stress and worries melted away last time. And although she knew going down that rabbit hole wasn't good with her past of sometimes becoming dependant on sex for her own mental well being, she couldn't really help herself. She blamed Matt for being insufferable and ridiculously attractive. The kiss was rough and demanding and she gave into him, moaning as he pushed himself against her through the thin fabric of their pants. He knelt up, tugging at his vest and lifting it over his head. Something dawned on her then.

"We're gonna do this here? What if someone walks in?" She snorted amused. She wasn’t one to shy away from sex in weird places but she didn't want some old dude walking in and getting a free show. He tossed his vest on the floor as he chuckled, jumping to his feet and climbing out the ring. She sat up, watching him curiously as he went and locked the door from the inside. She couldn't take her eyes off him as he prowled back to her though. The predatory grace he held, the way his sculpted body moved. In her needy and horny haze she found herself impatient for him to return and she felt like he was taking his time to tease her if his smirk was anything to go by. She pulled her shirt off and then her bra, tossing them in a heap beside them as Matt toed off his shoes.

He knelt back down then, his hands curling her ankles and yanking them lightly. Her back hit the mat with a light thud and she looked up at him shocked before laughing. With a wicked grin, he pulled her leggings and panties off together but painfully slow and her desire was increasing with every second he made her wait for it. She wouldn't beg though. She sat back up, tugging at his shorts and he bent down, kissing her roughly as she yanked them down with his boxers. She fisted him tightly and he moaned into her mouth, causing her to smirk into the kiss. Letting go, she pulled the shorts and boxers all the way off him before pushing him onto his back.

It was his turn to look mildly shocked and she climbed on top of him, her slick heat trapping his cock against his belly. His eyes were darting around her face and she leant forward, catching his lower lip with her teeth. He let out a long groan, arching up at her as she tugged it before letting it go with a pop. She sat up, pushing up on her knees before she gripped him and lined herself up. Without a word she sank down onto him and the pair moaned in relief. It was instant for her, that feeling of him filling her up like that. Knowing her release would come soon. She rested her hands on his firm chest for leverage as she started moving her hips. His hands felt like they were all over her body at once. Not soft or sweet, but firm and demanding and he took in every detail of her body.

The gym was filled with moans and gasps as she rode him hard, her anger at his behaviour and the thrill of fighting with him fuelling her pleasure. She almost found it ironic that they were fucking in a boxing ring with how often they fought. He pulled her down roughly, lips smashing against hers as he ravaged her mouth. She felt that euphoric feeling getting closer, her whole body tingling in anticipation. She got faster and harder, chasing the release she was after like her life depended on it.

"Don't stop," Matt groaned against her lips, one hand gripping the back of her neck while the other was on her ass, fingers digging into her flesh. She had no plan on stopping though. Not when she was this close. She kept up the pace and then she moaned loudly, her body tensing lightly as she clamped down around him.

He let out the hottest fucking noise she’d ever heard a human make and it only heightened her own pleasure as she rode the waves of her orgasm. He was clinging onto her tightly, rutting up into her as he panted and then groaned, spilling himself inside of her. He relaxed instantly. Hands falling to his sides. She sat there on top of him as she tried to catch her breath. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair had started falling out of her ponytail. She was thoroughly fucked and in the best way. That beautiful feeling was coursing through her veins as she let the hormones and endorphins flow though her.

She climbed off him carefully before standing up and stretching.

"I'm gonna hit the shower," she hummed sounding blissful as she scooped up her clothes. She walked completely naked to the showers and got herself cleaned up and presentable. She didn't regret it, it was amazing and she felt good now. And from the sounds he made, he enjoyed himself too. She just hoped he meant it when he said they were on the same page.

--------------

Matt stood in his own shower in the men’s changing rooms as he let the cold water pelt him. His brain was a fried mess and he leaned against the cool tiles as he tried to just think clearly. He wasn't sure why he'd done it again, not after last time. He couldn’t really say what had bothered him about the fact she left last time. He'd gotten out of the shower and went to his room and she was just gone. No words, no note, nothing. He knew it had been purely physical, they could barely tolerate each other. He wasn't stupid enough to think too deeply into it. Yet it left him feeling strangely hollow when she’d just left him like that.

And then when he had turned up to work, Foggy had been acting weird. After some pressure he'd told Matt about his conversation with Daphne. Matt was pretty sure he hadn't gotten the whole story from him but the gist of her saying it was just sex was clear. And he'd told Foggy she was right. It was a one time thing because of all their pent up anger and the adrenaline from the night they'd had. He told his best friend to stop thinking about it. Yet he hadn't been able to do the same. He'd ended up texting her using Foggy's phone to see if she would be home and then he went to see her. No rhyme or reason or idea why he was going there. All he knew was that it bothered him.

It wasn't like he’d never had casual sex before, although he couldn't say it happened much the last few years. And his inability to understand why he was feeling the way he was led to them fighting again. Because she was right. But he hadn't been able to let it go. So when he left, he told himself it wouldn't happen again. She was trouble and being around her wore him out. It wasn't worth it. So how did he end up here again? Oh that's right, apparently he'd turned into a horny teenager again. A bit of sparring, feeling her body against his and sensing how happy she was in the ring really fucked his hormones over. And now here he was again. Only this time it was his own fault. She’d actually turned him down and he'd been the one to push. He couldn't say he regretted it either. It was the best damn sex he’d ever had and it left him feeling more chilled out than he felt in a long time. He'd keep his mouth shut this time and not act like a teenage girl about it. He dug himself into this hole and now he had to climb his own way out.

-----------------------

Daphne towel dried her hair as much as she could and it left it wavy. She scooped it up in a messy bun on top of her head, a few stands framing her face. The euphoric feeling she got after sex was easing but she still felt calm and settled. It was nice, she didn't get to experience it that much anymore. She really didn't want to have to face Matt, not knowing if he'd throw a tantrum like last time. She didn't want him to read into it again or act all weird about it. It really killed the vibe and ruined her good mood. She'd tried to stop it from happening, not wanting to deal with that again, but she hadn't been able to help herself when he'd wanted her so clearly. There was something addictive about it. But now she felt dread settle into her bones as she thought about how he would react.

She took her sweet time getting dried and dressed simply to buy herself some time. But eventually she was done and she had to leave the changing room. As she walked out into the main part of the gym, Matt was sitting on the bench tying his laces.

"Ready?" He asked softly. No awkward questions, no anger in his voice. Maybe he was on the same page now after all. She felt relief sweep through her, allowing her to enjoy the calmness that she'd been left with after their time together.

"Yeah," she replied, grabbing her backpack and putting it over her shoulder.

Matt grabbed his cane where it was leaning against the wall. He was now wearing a hoodie too and he grabbed his glasses out of the pocket as he slid them onto his face. She wondered if he ever got sick of having to act blind. He was blind but not like the average blind person. He didn't really need the stick and she'd seen him 'bumping' into things like he hadn't known they were there before. When they stepped out into the sunshine, she winced and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Jesus christ! I think I've joined the blind club," she grumbled, rubbing her poor eyes. The sun just burnt the shit out of her retinas. He let out a surprised laugh, the door shutting behind them.

"Here," he grinned. She cracked a wary eye open, seeing him holding out his glasses to her, but she didn't take them.

"It's not like I need them,” he teased. It helped. She felt a little better. She slid them onto her face and her eyeballs thanked her immediately. They started walking down the street together and she glanced into a window as they walked by, looking at her reflection. She snorted at herself. Her hair, despite being recently washed and put up, was a wavy mess. Her cheeks were still rosy pink and the glasses looked weird on her face.

"They suit you," he mused playfully. She shoved him lightly, causing him to laugh when an older woman gasped at her actions.

"Assaulting a blind man in public? It's like you want to get arrested," he smirked.

"Yeah well, Foggy will be my lawyer so I'll be good," she quipped back with a grin. Now they were on the same page they seemed to be amicable after venting their frustration on each other.

"You really think my best friend would take your side over mine?" He asked, faking being hurt as he held his hand over his heart. She stopped walking and he did the same as she looked at him.

"I hate to say it but I think he prefers me now. Not that I can blame him. You are a bit of an asshole," she grinned mischievously. He gaped at her before his hand darted out and went to grab the glasses. She squeaked, holding them in place as he tried to steal them from her face.

"You don't deserve my glasses," he snorted.

"Come on! I need my eyes, I'm not like you!" She whined pitifully.

"And what's this?! My two favourite people, getting along nicely? Is the world ending?" A dramatic voice sounded from next to them. Both she and Matt stilled completely in a comical way before they took a step away from each other. Both of them looked caught out as they looked at a very smug Foggy.

"This is great! Better than great! I love this," he beamed like a kid on Christmas. Daphne groaned and glared at him from the glasses still perched on her face.

"Foggy, I swear! You want us to not kill each other when we're in the same room? Don't make a big deal about it when it happens," she huffed.

"It is a big deal. You're both laughing and smiling together. This is huge. It's like a rare solar event or something," he defended.

She resisted the urge to throttle him as Matt rubbed his temples.

"Foggy," Matt warned lightly.

"Okay! I get it, I'm making it weird. This whole thing is new to you both and I'm just making it awkward," he soothed, holding his hands up in surrender.

"There is no 'thing'. We can't just actually have a moment where we get on with each other before you start trying to marry us off again?" She whined.

"Marry us off? What?" Matt asked quickly, his head whipping to his friend. She snorted as Foggy's cheeks went a little pink and he shot her a glare

"Oh, he didn't tell you he's the captain of ship Maphne?" She laughed loudly. She didn't care if Matt knew. It was ridiculous to her and she was getting payback on Foggy for being a little shit.

"Maphne? Do I even wanna know?" Matt asked exasperated. Foggy shot her another look before standing up straighter.

"You know what, Daph, mock me all you want but this is the hill I'm choosing to die on," he pointed at her. Matt still stood there unsure of what they were even talking about. She opened her mouth for another retort that would no doubt embarrass Foggy further and also maybe make Matt uncomfortable which was a bonus, but Foggy beat her to it.

"Anyway! I'm glad I caught you two, I have great news!" He beamed excitedly. She quirked her brows perplexed as he led them to a table outside of the cafe nearby. The three of them sat around it, Matt and Daphne watching their friend expectantly.

"I finally asked Karen on a date!" He practically squealed. A splitting grin graced Daphne's face, unable not to be happy for him. During their many talks, he'd spoken about his feelings for the blonde and Daphne had always told him to go for it.

"Aw, Foggy! You're growing up, I'm so proud!" She cooed, reaching over and pinching his cheek. He was so happy he just let her.

"That's awesome, man. I'm happy for you," Matt smiled sincerely.

"I know, it's great right? I just finally bit the bullet. I just decided I need to stop being such a baby about it," he explained. He had a weird look on his face though, the same one that usually told her something going on.

"What is it?" Both she and Matt asked at the same time, him clearly picking up on Foggy's weirdness in his own way.

Foggy raised a brow at them both being in sync and she made a point to not even look at Matt so Foggy wouldn't go off on his Maphne tirade again.

"Well… I just… I panicked, okay? I set it all up and she knew I wanted to ask her something. But then I'm like, what if she says no? I mean it's just gonna be me and Karen. Alone. On a date," he uttered looking like a deer in the headlights.

"That's kinda the point, Foggy," Matt teased.

"I know it is. And I couldn't back out because she was just watching me, waiting for what I wanted to ask. I honestly felt like I was about to have a heart attack and I may have asked her on a date but told her it was a double date with you guys," he blurted, barely taking a breath as he did.

Daphne blinked at him for a moment as her brain tried to digest his words.

"You did what?" Matt asked incredulously. Foggy made a pitiful noise and she took Matt’s glasses off and set them in the middle of the table, giving Foggy a look.

"A double date? Implying that me and Matt are actually also going to be on a date. Do you see the flaw in that plan?" She asked slowly, like she was talking to a child about why playing with matches was bad.

"I know! Like I said, I panicked and that's just the first thing that came out of my mouth!" Foggy defended with a sigh.

"And Karen actually bought that?" Matt scoffed, gesturing with his hand to him and then Daphne.

"You're kidding right? She's all aboard this ship, she was actually excited about it," Foggy smirked. She kicked him under the table and he groaned. Matt's jaw ticked as he glared in his best friend's direction.

"This isn't a joke, Fogg. All the shit you give me for keeping my secret from her and you're just lying right to her face about this?" Matt frowned.

"That's completely different. Your secret is dangerous. This one isn't. For all she knows it's your first date too and after that it just didn't work out. Besides, it's not like you're not getting it on with each other, would it really be that hard to just pretend to be on one date?" He pleaded, looking from her to Matt.

"Yes," they both answered again.

"Please? I really need this. If I tell her you're not going she might cancel too. You two are like a buffer, help set the scene and put her at ease. I really like her, guys. I don't want to mess things up," he begged.

"Foggy-" Matt started sternly, only to be cut off by Daphne.

"Fine. But you're paying for dinner," she relented.

Foggy smiled the widest grin she'd ever seen on a human and Matt turned to glare at her.

"You've got to be kidding me," he scoffed incredulously.

"What? Didn't you hear him? He's our friend, Matt. Let's just do this for him. Besides, free dinner," she shrugged. Matt looked pissed and honestly it was a reward she hadn't expected. She'd almost forgotten how nice it felt to push his buttons.

"This is ridiculous. You really think she's not gonna notice we can't stand each other once she's sat at a table with us for a while?" Matt glowered. He had a point but they could just try to be civil for Foggy's sake.

"You know what, Matt, I really hate to play this card but you left me no choice. You lied to me for the longest time and now I have to keep your secret. I already have to start a potential relationship with lies for you. Can't you just do this one thing for me? I never ask you for anything," Foggy muttered with a frown.

A sly grin spread on her face at how underhand it was of Foggy. She almost felt like a proud parent as she watched a million emotions pass over Matt's face before defeat was all that was left.

"Fine. But don't say I didn't want you when this all blows up in your face. And you're paying for my dinner too," he huffed. Foggy looked more than pleased with himself.

"Thank you! You guys are awesome. I'll even pay for your drinks if you actually try and act like you like each other and not make it awkward," he shot them both a toothy grin.

"Hey, let me drink as much as I want and I'll make it really look like we're on a date," she smirked devilishly, a wiggle of her eyebrows and Foggy burst out laughing.

"Jesus christ," Matt muttered quietly with a shake of his head.

"Deal," Foggy nodded firmly, "tonight at 8. It's the Mexican place near the firm," he instructed before he stood.

"Alright. I'm heading out, you coming with, Matt?" He asked, shooting his annoyed friend a look.

"Yeah. You go on, I'll catch up in a sec," he bit out. Foggy gave her a look and a smirk before he started walking away.

"Really?" Matt glared at her, swiping his glasses from the table and shoving them onto his face.

"What? Free food and as much booze as we want? Plus doing your best friend a solid? I know you're an asshole, Matt, but I thought you weren't that much of an asshole," she quipped dryly. He clamped his mouth shut, jaw tense as he pursed his lips.

"Fine," he stood up abruptly, gripping his cane before holding it in front of him.

"You're doing this for Foggy. Don't fuck it up for him just because you've got a stick up your ass," she huffed as she stood up too.

He shot her what she presumed was a dirty look behind his glasses before he started walking away, his cane swinging in front of him. His irritation about the situation only made her want to do it more. It was his own fault really for acting like such a bitch about the whole thing. He was asking for her to make it worse for him. She started walking home as a plan formed in her mind. She'd get nice food and decent booze and she'd get to piss Matt off in a setting he had to behave in. She was actually looking forward to it.

As soon as she got home, she called their firm, knowing Karen would be the one to answer.

"Nelson and Murdock, Karen speaking," came the voice down the phone. Daphne trapped the phone to her ear with her shoulder as she tugged off her hoodie and tossed it in the laundry basket.

"Hey Karen, it's Daphne," she said casually.

"Oh! Hi!" She sounded genuinely happy to speak to her and she wondered why she'd never bothered to speak to Karen more since she was so close to Foggy and Matt.

"I know this is weird, we haven't really spoken much. But I wanted to ask a favour since we're going on a double date," she said carefully, flopping onto her sofa.

"Sure, what is it?"

"Don't tell the guys, it's kind of weird for me. It's just… this is mine and Matt's first date too and it's been so long. I was wondering if you'd help me get ready for the date? I wanna look really good. I mean I know he can't really see, but he just somehow knows these things, right?" She grinned, cringing at how hard she was going at this. She felt a tiny bit bad at lying to her but she ignored it.

"Of course! I'd… I'd really love that. I'm nervous too and it'd be good to just have some girl time," Karen said softly.

"Thank you, I really appreciate this. We could go to the restaurant together when we're done," Daphne smiled pleased with herself. After exchanging cell numbers and goodbyes, Daphne sat back on the couch with a smirk. She wanted to turn heads. Not only just to irritate Matt, using her knowledge of him finding her physically attractive against him, but it had been a while since she went out. Usually she did so with a goal in mind, to have sex. And she would turn heads, a lot of them. Tonight was different but it didn't mean her ego wouldn't enjoy being looked at. It certainly would be interesting.

#matt murdock x oc #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock #daredevil x oc #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil

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taetaemilktea · 3 years

Text

Chicken Noodle Soup with Tea on the Side

Part 2 to “Bring the Soup”

Summary: Following their life-changing yet draining Love Yourself world tour, Bangtan returns home with three very sick members. Hoseok and Yoongi have caught Taehyung’s miserable cold, but are lucky that the other members offer the best caretaking with lots of soup, tissues, and cuddles.

Sickies: Yoongi, Hoseok, Taehyung

Caretakers: Seokjin, Namjoon, Jimin, Jungkook

Word Count: 2262

Author’s Note: Hi!! Huge thanks to @snifflyjoonie and @chickennoodlej-hope for encouraging me to write a part 2! I hope you all like it!

~~~~~

Namjoon moans quietly with his eyes closed, turning up the volume on his “Relaxing Deep Sleep Sounds” playlist to full blast. It is a futile attempt to lull himself to sleep, as it isn’t very soothing or sleep-inducing to have anything played at full volume through one’s AirPods. He gives it five minutes before he groans and rolls over, pulling the blanket up and over his head, failing to block out any extraneous sounds. Five more minutes, and he gives up on sleeping all together, throwing the blanket off and over his lap as he huffs in annoyance.

How is anyone supposed to sleep when the soft and calming whirring of the airplane’s jets are constantly being interrupted by a volley of coughs and sniffles? For the last two hours since take-off from Paris back to Korea, Namjoon has been listening to Hoseok, Yoongi, and Taehyung trading off, like clockwork, each coughing and giving a series of nose blows one after the other. Every. Goddamn. Minute. And it is driving Namjoon slightly insane as he aims to get some much needed sleep after the end of their exciting but grueling world tour.

He relaxes slightly, however, upon looking over at Yoongi’s tired eyes as the rapper stares lazily at his phone in the dim cabin lights. Yoongi has on a large beanie and is bundled up in a warm blanket in his seat on the private jet. He continues to give soft yet rough coughs, muffling them into the blanket that he had grabbed to warm his chills. Yoongi is generally a quiet person, never one for dramatics or theatrics when it came to anything, really. But if Namjoon wasn’t mistaken, he hasn’t heard Yoongi mutter a word since the group arrived to the airport that morning. He imagines that his fellow songwriter must be suffering from one hell of a sore throat. Namjoon misses Yoongi’s gummy smile.

Next to Yoongi, Hoseok sits watching a movie. Namjoon can tell he isn’t quite paying attention though. Seokjin had placed his beloved RJ plush on Hoseok’s lap when he had started the film, hoping it might cheer him up. But now, RJ is pushed to the side of the seat in favor of a tissue box. Hoseok, as much as he loved watching movies on flights, is constantly forced to focus on blowing his nose instead. Used tissues litter the floor. Namjoon knows his poor 94-liner must be feeling exhausted and groggy, as Hoseok is the God of Cleanliness in the group. On any normal day, Hoseok would’ve shrieked to find used tissues anywhere but in the trash can where germs belonged.

Across the aisle, Taehyung has his head laid on Jimin’s shoulder. Too congested to breathe through his nose, he is forced to breathe warm, heavy breaths out of his mouth, drying out his lips. Jimin pulls a stick of chapstick out of his pocket and carefully applies it for him. Jimin knows Taehyung is thankful by the way he nestles his feverish forehead against Jimin’s neck. All he wants is for Taehyung to sleep, or at least manage a short nap. Every time he doses off, he sputters awake as the congestion in his nose makes it harder and harder to breathe.

The group is in bad shape. Namjoon wasn’t surprised when Yoongi and Hoseok admitted to catching Taehyung’s cold. He had walked in on the three of them sleeping in a hotel bed together and, while that definitely hadn’t been the most ideal given the members’ already weakening immune systems from the constant travel, knew that Hobi and Yoongi had done it to keep Tae company. Namjoon remembers Taehyung’s tear-stricken face at the end of their show in Paris and is honestly glad that Hobi and Yoongi had been willing to stay with him.

Thankfully, the group is on their way home. Soon, the three sick members can lay down in their own beds, take their medicine, and sleep to their hearts’ content. Until then, Namjoon wants his own sleep. He is exhausted. It isn’t easy being a leader on a world tour.

He rummages in his bag for some cough drops.

“Yoongi-ah...” he murmurs.

Yoongi looks up from his phone and is grateful to see Namjoon handing him the bag. He nods his thanks, pulling one out and handing the bag to Hoseok. He tosses it to Jimin, who grabs one and opens it, sliding it into Taehyung’s mouth. The bag finally makes its way back to Joon.

He smiles, glad to be helping his members and to hopefully be getting some sleep soon. Namjoon is so grateful when the coughing dies down in minutes as the three sick boys let the warm menthol ease their sore throats.

Namjoon curls back into his seat under the blanket and closes his eyes. His muscles relax and he sighs contently.

Sadly, the menthol makes its way into Taehyung’s congested and hypersensitive nose.

“Hh’TSCHHh!! Hh’!... HhETSSHH’huH!! hHAASHHh!!”

Gosh, this is going to be long flight.

The flight is long indeed, and rather somber as the world tour excitement wears off and is replaced with a light post-concert, post-travel sadness. It happens every time—it is nothing new.

But this time more than ever, Yoongi just wants to lay in his own bed, in his own room, and sleep. He craves the ability to drift off and rid himself of the buzzing headache and constantly running nose. He trudges alongside the group and their staff, doing his best to show smiling, shiny eyes behind his mask as they walk through Incheon airport to their awaiting cars.

He is oblivious to Seokjin trailing closely behind him, watching his every step as if Yoongi might crumble any moment. Jimin does the same to Taehyung, while Jungkook walks with his arm over Hoseok’s shoulders to keep him steady.

At reaching their cars, they mindlessly split into two groups, the maknae line in one, the hyung line in the other.

In moments after the car has pulled out onto the streets, Hoseok’s head has lulled to the side, falling onto Namjoon’s shoulder. The leader smiles to himself as his friend’s breath transforms into light, congested snoring.

“He’s out,” he murmurs, and Seokjin turns around from the front seat to look.

“I’m jealous,” Yoongi mumbles from the seat next to them, his warm forehead pressed against the cold glass window of the SUV.

“Don’t worry, Yoongi-ah. We’re almost home,” Seokjin gives a look of empathy. His naturally goofy and upbeat demeanor is diminished by the hurt he feels for his sick friends.

“hHESHHhuh!” Yoongi responds with a heavy sneeze and a groan of pain.

In the other car, Taehyung has hit rock bottom of the miserable cold. He is laid across Jungkook’s lap, head resting on the maknae’s large thigh. His throbbing headache is from thick congestion, which has sat with him throughout the entirety of the flight despite how many times he aimed to blow his nose. His fever rages, not at all helped by the transition from the warm plane to the chilly airport to the heated car. It makes him feel cloudy, and he hasn’t spoken a word to anyone in hours.

As a sad and clingy sickie, his only comforts are Jimin and Jungkook’s hands running through his hair and rubbing circles on his back. He wants cuddles. He wants Yeontan. He wants to hear Yoongi’s Daegu dialect telling him he’ll feel better soon.

It’s a day and a half later. The sounds of soft, shuffling feet pull Yoongi from his sleep on the couch. He gives a soft sigh and nestles further into the couch cushions, sniffling lightly as his nose had started to run while he napped. He can’t tell what time it is, but knows he has hardly passed the threshold of a satisfactory nap. The pounding headache and sore throat that he developed a few days ago are still bothering him, exhaustion from the Europe tour and his cold compounding into hours spent in bed.

Pulling the blankets more tightly over his shoulder, Yoongi keeps his eyes closed as the feet shuffle behind the couch and towards the kitchen. They stop suddenly, followed by a sharp intake of breath, and a quick fit of stifled sneezes.

“Hh!—hH’tsCH! h’ngTXxt! haH-tSCh!!”

The last one tumbles out.

“hHAT‘Shiiew!!”

“... bless you.” Yoongi mumbles into the blanket. Hoseok jumps a foot in the air.

“Aish, Yoongi-ah!” He peers over the back of the couch and down onto Yoongi. He still has his eyes closed.

“What?” Another soft mumble.

“I didn’t know you were there! What are you doing on the couch?”

“... Taking a nap?”

Hobi rolls his eyes, but walks over and sits on the couch. He grabs a tissue from the table and blows his now dripping nose.

“Yeah, but shouldn’t you be in bed?”

Yoongi pops an eye over to look up at Hobi.

“I’ve been in bed. For two straight days...” he quips, followed by a few rough coughs. Normally, he’d marvel at the ability to spend hours in bed napping, but the sore throat, body aches, and harsh sneezes were beginning to make him grumpy.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed? Why are you creeping around anyway?”

“I was trying to keep quiet. Taehyung is sleeping and I didn’t want to wake him,” Hoseok scrubs at his tired eyes.

“He’s sick, Hoba. He could sleep through anything. Namjoonie dropped a glass yesterday, and he didn’t even flinch from his spot on the couch.”

Hoseok giggled at their leader’s clumsy but endearing habits.

“I just wanted to make some lunch. I’m hungry.”

“Hungry?” Seokjin walks into the room carrying a small box of cold medicine. “Hyung will cook you something.”

“Soup?” A raspy voice appears behind Seokjin. Taehyung shuffles in with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and his hair a floppy mess. His voice has started to come back, but his rough, frequent sneezes continue to rip through his throat, minimizing any progress.

“Aren’t you tired of soup, Taehyung-ah? You’ve been eating soup for four days in a row.” Seokjin chuckles.

“I’m not tired of your soup, hyung. It’s the best.”

The eldest’s ears blush red, not uncommon when he receives complements.

“Chicken noodle soup?” Seokjin asks as Taehyung sits next to Hobi and hugs him, wrapping them both with the blanket he had around his shoulders.

“With a soda on the side?” Hobi giggles at the idea of his own song, forcing himself into a coughing fit.

“No, tea,” Seokjin replies, making his caretaker mode clear.

“Ha, says the man who thought drinking alcohol would cleanse his throat when he had a cold,” Yoongi raises an eyebrow in a teasing manner, hinting at the livestream in which Jin and Jimin had exposed the alcohol they had stashed in their hotel room.

“Yah, I knew what I was doing. And it helped—my sore throat went away!” Seokjin defended.

“Good, I’m going to drink some liquor then,” Yoongi states. Jin face palms.

“Seokjin-hyung is right, you should all be drinking tea,” Namjoon walks in after hearing his friends’ light bickering. “Tea will make you feel better. I’ll make it for you while Jin-hyung makes soup,” he nodded towards Seokjin, and the two moved to the kitchen to prepare the items for their sick members.

Before Yoongi has any time to drift off back to sleep, Joon and Seokjin walk over with bowls of soup and teacups filled with warm, lemon-honey tea on trays. Seokjin places each individual bowl and teacup on the small coffee table in the center of the room while Namjoon is tasked with dealing out cold medicine. In moments, Yoongi, Hoseok, and Taehyung are all quietly sipping broth, the steam rising and making their noses run.

Jimin and Jungkook return just in time from the gym and from stopping by the store. They carry bags flowing with tissues, cough drops, and vapor rub. Yoongi, Hoseok, and Taehyung thank their fellow members for their endless support, feeling drowsy as they finish their meals and let the cold medicine work it’s magic.

Namjoon plops down on the floor and opens a book while the others gather together on the couches. He begins reading, engrossed in the plot. He finishes a chapter and looks up to find everyone asleep together.

Yoongi lays in his usual curled up position on his side. Jin had sat on the floor with his back against the couch and had fallen asleep with his head leaning back next to Yoongi’s. The two eldest members share the pillow, Yoongi’s cheek smushed into it while Jin’s head laid on the corner.

Hoseok and Jungkook lay cuddled together on the opposite couch. It was no secret that Jungkook loved the smell of his Hobi-hyung. Hoseok had washed his hair earlier that morning in hopes of de-muddling his brain and de-congesting his nose. Jungkook sniffed in the fragrant scent of his shampoo and conditioner and had fallen asleep with Hobi in his arms.

Namjoon is not surprised to see Taehyung and Jimin bundled together in a heap of blankets. Taehyung has his arms wrapped around his soulmate and nose buried in Jimin’s neck. Tired from his gym session with the maknae, Jimin had fallen asleep in moments, happy to give Taehyung all the cuddles he needed.

Namjoon chuckles at the sight of his team, his forever family, happily dozing together and getting proper rest. Two more chapters, he tells himself, before he will wake Seokjin to make dinner for the healthy members and to serve Hoseok, Yoongi, and Taehyung—surprise—soup.

#bts snz #bts sickfic #sick!taehyung #sick!yoongi #sick!hoseok #caretaker!namjoon #caretaker!seokjin #caretaker!jimin #caretaker!jungkook

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seokjinsdisciple · 4 years

Text

You’re On, Doll

requested!

You and Jaehyun are CEO’s of rival companies, hating each other for as long as you can remember. Will you be able to find common ground after an important file goes missing, or will the two of you never quite see eye to eye?

enemies to lovers! jaehyun x reader

warnings: degradation, oral fem recieving, they have sex in an office so, one thigh slap (i really held myself back ok), finger sucking, i think thats it?

word count: 2.6k

There was truly only one person on this planet that you hated with your whole being. It’s not like you made it a habit to argue with your other business competitors, but something about the way Jung Jaehyun carried himself left a bitter taste in your mouth.

So, you tried to ignore all possible encounters with him, something that was much harder when all of your friends were the same. That was one of the downsides of running a successful programming company, your world was small.

The situation you were currently in didn’t surprise you at all, your mind drifting from the girl beside you who hadn’t stopped trying to sell herself to your company, towards where Jaehyun sat. A smirk formed on his lips at your obvious disgust. This is one of the games he played, bring someone who either loved or hated your company and let them run wild during what was supposed to be a relaxing party.

“I don’t currently have any open positions,” you said to the girl, never breaking your gaze from Jaehyun’s. He wanted you to crack first and be the one to approach him, but you weren’t that weak, “please excuse me while I grab a drink.”

You made your way over to the drink table, smiling and chatting with a few people who lingered near it. You knew exactly who was approaching as their smiles dropped and weary glances came your way. You finished your drink, grabbing another before rolling your eyes and turning around.

“What do you want?” You asked, taking in the appearance of the man stood before you. It was no secret that Jaehyun was attractive, he always had been, but tonight it seemed to be worse. His suit was embroidered in gold, as if he were some sort of Mafia boss. The smirk that painted his face was only amplified by the way his hair was pushed back. His hands were stuffed casually in his pockets and if you hadn’t been so focused on what he looked like, you might’ve heard him respond, and then repeat himself, and then laugh.

“Am I that distracting?” He smiled as his hand wrapped around your wrist, tightly enough to spark a feeling of lust in your belly but not enough to hurt. Jaehyun knew you had a thing for his hands wrapped around your various body parts. He let out another laugh at your gaze, pulling you through the ballroom and into the hall.

“You aren’t distracting, you just look like you’re trying too hard,” you snapped, following behind him into a smaller living room.

“Is that why you were fucking me with your eyes?”

“I was not,” you hissed, a moan slipping from your lips as he attached his lips to your neck, hands drifting across your waist and across your open back, “Jae, I told you that we aren’t doing this anymore.”

He let out a little sigh, his forehead resting against your collarbone.

“You’re right, I know,” he muttered, hands still on your hips as he took a step away, “I’m sorry.”

You grabbed his hand lightly, leading him to sit on the couch next to you, “What's with the girl?”

“What girl?” Jaehyun asked, confusion crossing his face for only a minute before realization dawned on him, “Ah, she’s one of my interns, and I caught her looking up open positions in your company.”

“So you thought you would torture me as a punishment?” You asked, finishing your martini before resting your head against the back of the couch.

“What can I say, I hate disloyal employees,” he shrugged, finishing off his own whiskey before copying your position and turning his head to look at you, “Plus it was a win-win situation, I get to annoy the hell out of you and my mother doesn’t badger me to bring a date.”

“I don’t understand why people find you so charming,” you rolled your eyes, glancing at him, “and I really don’t understand how so many women end up in your bed.”

At this Jaehyun laughed, “Don’t forget you’ve been in my bed,” he smirked.

“Shut up,” you slapped his arm lightly, “That was a lapse of judgment.”

“It was several lapses of judgment,” he smirked, “Unless you aren’t counting the times we weren’t in bed.”

“I’m only counting the times that you made me cum. So yes, it was a lapse of judgment,” you said, emphasizing the endings of the words. You were working him up now, and you knew it. You felt him before you even had a chance to process your assumed victory. His hand was on your thigh, his grip light, and barely-there as he spread your legs open. You held your breath, eyes fluttering closed as his finger ghosted over your core. His touch was gone in a second, a laugh in its stead as your eyes shot open.

“We both know that that’s a lie, doll,” Jaehyun smirked at the way you slightly squirmed in your seat, “See ya around, YN.”

Jaehyun smirked as your jaw dropped, waving with a smile as he left you in that room, turned on and frustrated. As much as you hated to admit it, you and Jaehyun had been fucking around for years now, and you just recently cut it off. If you were being honest, you missed him, but you would never admit that to anyone, let alone him. You just groaned at your luck, standing up and hurrying out of the room and back into the ballroom to retrieve your things.

You should have been suspicious then, the way he had led you out and distracted you. You didn’t notice though, at least not until a few days later that your file was missing and the only person who would want it had distracted you while his evil little minion had stolen the file from your purse. You were angry. Very angry. That file had a list of investors in it, and you’d be damned if Jung Jaehyun stole them from you.

So here you were, strutting through the lobby of his office. You pushed past security officers, most of them knowing who you were and glancing quizzically at their partners. ITs not like this was the first time you had been to his company if anything you had been there several times for peace meetings and just overall business. So you knew where you were going.

You made it to his office first, grunting in annoyance when it was empty. You strode around the corner, anger completely blinding you as you stormed into the middle of his conference room. Everyone stopped in their tracks, looking from Jaehyun to you. You nodded briefly at the CFO, your close friend Johnny, before speaking.

“Get your ass in your office, right now,” you growled, storming out of the board room and back into his office, praying that he would follow you. You breathed out a sigh of relief as you heard the lock click.

“What the hell is this all about?” Jaehyun asked, and you turned to look at him. Damn him. His hands were on his hips, his tie crooked and face flushed with anger.

“I want my file back.”

“I don’t have your file,” he said easily, the only indicator of his lie the small movement of his index finger against his hip.

“Jaehyun, I don’t have time for this. You’re lying. I know you’re lying. We both know you’re lying so give me my goddamn investor file before I lose my shit.”

He glanced out of the windows of his office, and you followed his gaze. A small crowd had gathered. They pretended to not look as our eyes fell onto them. Jaehyun let out an almost inaudible curse as he made his way to the window and hastily closed the blinds.

“You fucking ruin everything, you know that?” he asked, his voice much less angry than it had been before.

“I ruin everything?” you asked incredulously, “I ruin everything? Jaehyun you’re the one who stole my file! Since when have you ever done business this way, I mean Jesus! You’re acting like a-”

“Just shut up, and listen to me,” He raised his voice slamming his hand against the window, making you jump a little where you stood.

He turned to look at you then, his eyes glassy and cheeks redder than before, “I’m in love with you.”

You stood there for a moment, looking for his tell, looking for any sign that he was lying. You didn’t see anything, and suddenly your heart was beating at two times the speed, breath caught in your throat and nerves twisting your belly into knots.

“I’ve been talking to your dad, about merging the companies and being co-CEOs. I knew you’d never give your company up and I don't want you to. But Jesus, I can’t go on any more dates that my mother sets up for me because I don't want to marry any of them. I want to marry you. And I know that’s insane, and I know you hate me. But its the truth. It’s the truth,” he finished, his breathing ragged and refusing to meet your eyes.

“Jaehyun,” you paused, taking a deep breath, “I think I love you too.”

“You- you do?” he asked, eyes snapping to where you stood, your anger completely melted and your eyes just as teary as his, “Say it again. God, please say it again.”

“I love you,” you muttered, your grin growing, “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

He rushed towards you then, lips finding yours messily, the two of you grinning too much to actually care. The force of the kiss pushed you back against his desk, the two of you exploring each other's bodies with your hands as if this was the first time. You melted into him, his fingers finding the zipper of your dress and tugging at it. When it was unzipped he pulled it off, never once breaking the kiss.

You tugged at his tie, bringing him as close to you as possible. You whined as he broke the kiss, arms leaving your body as he hastily cleared off a spot for you on his desk.

“Patience, princess,” he muttered as he kissed the side of your head, guiding you onto his desk, “Spread your legs for me, doll, let me take care of you.”

You wasted no time, complying easily to his command as he knelt before you. He was slow at first, kissing up the side of your leg as he gently eased your heels off of your feet. He paused his mouth as he reached the crux of your thigh and your core.

“Baby, you’re sure?” he asked, pressing a light kiss to your thigh, eyes locked onto yours as you nodded. You hissed when a lap landed on your inner thigh, “Tsk, you know the rules doll. Or has it been that long that I need to train you again, you filthy whore? Been too busy fucking other people that you forget my rules?”

“No sir,” you muttered out, the hint of a smile teasing Jaehyun’s lips, “haven’t had anyone but you. Want you to touch me now, please,” you babbled, willing to do and say anything to get him to finally touch you.

“My dirty girl hasn’t had anyone but me?” Jaehyun asked, an eyebrow raised and a shit-eating grin unable to be hidden on his face. You let out a needy whine, scooting your hips closer to his face, “Is my princess needy? Does she want a reward for being such a little slut for my cock and my cock only?”

“Please, sir,” you nodded desperately, not wanting to beg but getting to the point where you didn’t care anymore.

Jaehyun placed a soothing kiss to your core over your panties, hooking his finger underneath the hem as he spoke, “It’s ok, doll. Be nice and quiet for me, hm?”

You nodded again desperately, Jaehyun forgiving your lack of words just this once as he shimmied your underwear down. You tried your best to hold in your moans as he devoured you. The closer you came to your climax the harder it was to keep quiet. Having mercy on you, Jaehyun slid his hand up your body and pushed two fingers into your mouth. Letting you suck and drool on them as he continued to pleasure you. You were so so close, bucking and grinding your hips into his mouth as you came. You tried to be quiet, you really did. But if you were being honest, you couldn’t help the moan that left your body. Jaehyun’s tongue retreating but your body still shaking as you raked in deep breaths. He pulled you calmingly into his chest, whispering praises and pressing kisses to your hair as you calmed down.

He tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear as he cupped your face, “Can you take more?” he asked, eyes searching yours for any sort of hesitation.

“Please Jae, I can take more, I promise,” you whispered, hands finding his tie and loosening it as he kissed your forehead. He undid his belt buckle quickly, shuffling his pants and boxers off quickly. He slid himself inside you, bottoming out with a small groan. He rested his forehead against yours as he waited for you to let him move. A small moan leaving your mouth as you bucked your hips.

He lost it then, all of his usual calm and cool composure was out the window as he thrusts into you. His pace was steady, but it was much faster than usual, something that had you biting your lip in order to ensure your moans were quieted. As he hit the sensitive spot deep within you, you let out a guttural moan, slapping a hand over your mouth as Jaehyun laughed.

“I thought I told you to be quiet?” he smiled, his previous dominance out the window as he pulled you into him. His thrusts are still powerful, but his actions are more loving and intimate than they were before. He kissed you gently as he thrusted, his pace faltering as you clenched around him.

“Jae-,” You whined, almost running away from him as his fingers found your sensitive and swollen clit, “I’m close.”

“Me too, love,” he whispered, rubbing more vigorously as you spasmed around him one more time. His lips met yours as your moans grew less discreet again, his mouth absorbing as much of them as he could. He was cumming swiftly after you, his fingers digging into your hips as he twitched inside you.

“I love you,” you spoke, wrapping your arms around him tightly and resting your chin on his broad shoulder.

“God, I love you too,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss as he eased himself out of you, “What do you say we skip the rest of our work today and spend the day in my bed, together?”

“That sounds like a dream,” you added, your limbs cooperating with his hands that were guiding you back into your clothes, “If you can make me squirt I’ll sign the merge papers.”

At this Jaehyun laughed, “Oh, you’re on, doll.”

You followed him out of his office, too happy to care about his employees' embarrassed faces and awkward stances. Jaehyun was finally yours, and you were finally his.

#jaehyun x reader #jaehyun smut #jaehyun angst #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun #nct 127 smut #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 angst #nct 127

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itbe-jess · 3 years

Text

Masklophobia: Chapter 5

This chapter is brought to you by The Banana Splits: Sloppy Nights, by Fazie Funbear. (Game can be downloaded for free on Gamejolt)

And Miss Yum-Yum's Canned Human Luncheon Meat. (Processed with the paradise's most elegant seasonings, with no fillers or cereal binders)

Everything that happened on that date, October 17, 1992, was all caught on security footage. Anyone to watch them would probably not retain their sanity. Late at 5:48 AM, the evidently missing Karl Rodriguez snuck into the studio, wearing his King Karl costume. While inside, he commenced with some really unusual mischief. Breaking all the phones he could find in the building, and tampering with the locks on every door, even the windows. After that, he invited all of his "friends" inside. The actors of Karl's Paradise, wearing their costumes.

The actors spoke to Karl, in a language that didn't sound human, or English for that matter. Snarling, gargling, moaning, and growling, that was the talk of zombies. They also sounded like they were woefully ravenous. The Critters went up to Karl, as though they're expecting him to give them something. Possibly food. Karl, getting into his TV show character, calmed them down.

"Now now, my subjects! I can see plain as day that you are all utterly famished! Don't worry, you'll get what you wanted for days. Just have to wait a little teensy bit longer! Remember: Good things come to those who wait!"

He then told the Critters to get into their positions. "Like we rehearsed," Karl mentioned. The day arrived, and Karl was waiting patiently in the office of Andy Matthews, the network executive. Everyone entered the building without any awareness of the doors. Employees, actors, all thinking they were gonna safely go home when the day is done. The only one of the Critters that was out in the open was Barkstone, which everyone called while looking with judgement, "Stevie."

Everyone just passed by while being weirded out. All Barkstone did was casually wave. The only person he gained attention from was the studio producer, who was holding his cellular phone. The man had gotten concerned over "Stevie," wearing his hot sweaty costume, in a studio he no longer works in. When the producer began to ask questions, Barkstone only gestured the producer to follow him.

Dressing room cam: An actress comes in, about to get ready for her next shoot, when suddenly she noticed Saxxo was in her company, playing his saxophone. Funny, whenever Saxxo played his sax on camera, the music would come out of a stereo, played by someone else doing the sax. He really sounded like he was playing the sax. How could he play that thing in that costume, she thought. The actress was quite amused by the act. She already had a boyfriend, but "Drew" really impressed her.

She asked how he did it, but Saxxo spoke not. Instead, he signaled her to sing with him, playing a familiar tune he hoped she understood. Despite the actress thinking she doesn't sing well, she did it anyways for fun. Together, the two made quite a musical duet. She was having such a great time with "Drew" that she completely forgot about the role she was supposed to get dressed for. R-E-S-P-E-C-T! Find out what it means to me! R-E-S-P-E-C-T! take care, TCB! The manager was outside of the room, listening to the whole performance.

Then, just when her mouth was wide opened, trying to hit the high notes, Saxxo dropped his sax, grabbed the actress, and jammed a lollipop prop down her throat. He did it at quick ease so her screams couldn't be heard. There was choking, saliva trickling, blood dripping, and eventually after 30 seconds, complete silence.

The manager knocked on the door, asking the actress if she were alright. Worried, he barged in. Nobody was in the room, but the actress's disturbing choked corpse. The manager dropped down to his knees, and held the body to his so he could examine her pulse. He tried to pull out the lollipop prop. Saxxo came out of hiding. When the manager saw Saxxo's feet, he looked up at the towering mascot before him. Then, the tiger bashed his saxophone against the man's face, hard enough to instanly kill him.

Costume room cam: A page enters the room, to check on the costumes. One in particular caught his eye, and that was the Slouch suit, hanging on the wall. Strange, he said to himself, that wasn't in here before. And it wasn't supposed to be there either. Before Karl left, he took all of his costumes with him, and he was sure he brought along Slouch too. He doesn't know where Karl is, but he might as well take that suit down anyways. When he got closer, he noticed a few things off about the costume.

For one thing, the costume smelled bad. Another thing, he could've sworn he heard faint breathing, outside of the suit, not inside. Lastly, the costume looked as though someone was already wearing it, based on its bulkiness. Curious, the page slowly reached for the mask, to see if anything was inside the costume. Slouch wrapped his arms around the page, in a very tight grasp. It brought the page into a struggle, but he couldn't squirm from the orangutan's strength. He began crying for help, but Slouch shut him up by biting off the top of his head.

Ventilation room cam: Barkstone was boring the producer to death with magic tricks he didn't know how to do. With Barkstone's show being a waste of time, the producer decided to save the questions for later, and get back on schedule. However, Barkstone grabbed the man's cellular phone, placed it in a tiny sack, then tapped on it a few times with his wand. As expected, the phone was in pieces, beyond repair.

"Okay, WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS, STEVIE?! Why are you still wearing that stupid costume, why are you doing this nonsense shit, and why are you wasting my goddamn tim-"

But Barkstone had one more trick in mind. The blue dog backed the producer into a box, then locked him in. That made the man angrier, cursing to the top of his lungs. He wasn't angry for long once he saw Barkstone take out a saw. A real saw, and not a plastic one. First the dog pulled a handkerchief from out of his glove, and stuffed it into the man's mouth so his screams become inaudible. He was finally gonna perform a trick he never got a chance to do.

Then, he started sawing through the box, just how an unprofessional magician would do it. The producer's screams were loud, but good thing that hanky deafened them a bit. On the floor spilled sawdust and blood. Eventually, when his saw cut its way through the box, and the screaming stopped. Barkstone then divided the box in half. The entrails, with more pools of blood, poured out. The proud dog took a bow to his imaginary audience.

Lounge cam: Two male crew members were both having coffee, while bonding over small chat. As one of them turned around, Mama LongLegs decended upside down from the ceiling. With stealth, she put her first set of hands on crew member #1's mouth to silence him, and used her second set to give his neck a quick snap. When crew member #2 turned back around, wondering why his pal didn't answer his question, what he found was an unpleasant surprise. His pal lying dead on the floor, with a snapped neck.

Before he could run, Mama LongLegs reappeared, still upside down. One of her six hands grabbed hold of the man's head, to have him facing her. The pink spider delivered a "Shhhhhhh...", then took out a pair of tongs. What did she do with the tongs? Ripped his throat right out of his neck. With another victim down, LongLegs took that throat and ate it whole. After that, she made her exit by crawling into the vent.

Hallway 3 cam: Another male crew member was walking down the hall, talking on his beeper. Fins was hiding in the corner, with a pail of water. When the crew member came by, Fins splashed him with the liquid, then stepped on his beeper. That made the crew member furious, but that was Fins' general idea, as she put her fins over her large mouth and laughed. She also spat on him, hoping to make him mad enough to have him follow her to her trap. For a test, she ran into the men's room. The plan had worked as the man went after "Rebecca" there.

We see from the footage that he entered the men's room with her. Although they were now out of the camera's view, we can only figure out what's happening by the sounds. First we heard angry words from the crew member, then confused words, then splashing noises, then drowning gargle noises. A female crew member heard the commotion, then knocked, asking "What the hell is going on in there?" Fins pulled her inside. Instead of the same noises, we heard violent tears, screams of pain, and before you knew it, blood leaked from under the restroom's gap.

Designer room cam: The art designer rushed into the office, and slammed the door shut. She couldn't lock it, since her lock was still broken, so all she could do was hide. But where? We can clearly tell she's been in a chase, with how heavy she was breathing. When she heard the knob turn, her panicked instincts made her press against the corner wall, where she'd be hidden behind the door once her chaser enters. The chaser invites themself in. It appears that the art designer was set in a wild goose chase.

Van Goose looked left, and she looked right. She saw the woman run into this room, so she's got to be somewhere. She decided to search all around. The art designer remained hidden behind the door, trying to mute her breathing. Van Goose suddenly hesitated, like she were thinking for a moment. And so, the goose walked backwards to where she came in, and took the door as she began to close it very slowly. The art designer poked her head forward, as she felt like it was now safe to come out.

SLAM! These Paradise Critters were more clever than you think. Van Goose just crushed the art designer between the wall, and the door. Her body was now a big splattered mess. She saw the art designer run into this room, so she had to be somewhere. Van Goose made the best of it by taking some blood off with a paintbrush, and painted herself a "cute" little picture on the wall.

Kitchen cam: It seems Yum-Yum was getting ahead of her friends. She had one crew member burning in the oven, another one stuck into a pot of boiling water, and right now she was filleting an actor on the counter. The director walks in and witnessed the horrifying scene. Yum-Yum put down her cleaver and grabbed the woman. The bear looked around the kitchen to find anything useful. She already has something cooking in the oven. There's no room in the boiling pot. Maybe... Nah, the blender and food processor were too small.

Until she spotted the microwave. Microwaves are pretty convenient for cooking instant meals. She opened the door, and forced the director's head inside. Next, she turned on the settings. The director struggled, but failed to make the slightest budge from Yum-Yum's grip. All she could do was scream as the radiation started to effect her head, and then eventually get nuked.

Main stage floor cam: Junior was doing nothing more but riding on the presentation cart, like an average child. Crew members were attempting to stop him, and at the same time avoid him constantly, but Junior refused to listen. Soon, one of them tripped, which gave Junior the opportunity to run straight through his body, three times or four. The woolly mammoth eventually knocked down some crew members on his own, and did the same to them too. The rest then decided to just run away instead of trying to stop Junior, and the mammoth wheeled after them.

The crew members who'd been run over by the cart weren't entirely dead, but rather severely injured. ...really, really badly. Just then, they got finished off as some stage lights fell on their faces. It wasn't from Junior, but a friend who was trying to help out. Slouch the orangutan was up on the power grids, hanging bodies by their intestines.

Control room cam: Finally, we are brought to LabRat. He had one crew member tied to a chair, and another one strapped to a serving cart. To the victim on the chair, he ripped out some wires from the machinery, and electrocuted the man to a crisp. LabRat got electrocuted himself in the process, but it didn't effect him whatsoever. Besides, this is what mad scientists are supposed to do.

To the victim on the serving cart, LabRat started to slip on some gloves, then took out a scalpel. What the giant rat intends to do is dissect the crew member alive. He sliced open the guy's stomach in a single cut. LabRat placed both of his hands inside, feeling at the squishy organs. He pulled out the kidney, the stomach, the spleen, the liver, the pancreas, the large intestines, the small intestines, and last but not least, the beating heart. Just as the crew member was now dead, LabRat licked his gloves clean of the blood.

More and more people became aware of the massacre, and there was nothing they could do about it. They couldn't leave on account of all the doors being locked on the outside. They couldn't contact help on account of all of the phones being destroyed, and the Critters snatched every electronic they had on them. They couldn't kill them on account that they would just heal, either from a mere slash or a stab. Nobody's screams could carry out of Tam, due to the studio's thick walls.

Main entrance cam: Andy arrived into the studio, but as he saw all those fractured, mangled, and slaughtered corpses, he turned back to the door for his quick exit. But the door was locked from the outside, to prevent his escape. He banged his fist against the door, and tried to call for help. Saxxo grabbed the executive by the shoulders, and held onto him. He was just the man they've been waiting for, and they can't do anything until they hear the command from King Karl. The music played to signal him.

🎵Heyyyyyyyyy!

Wouldn't you like to go far away?

To a wonderful place, you say?

Where all your friends are here everyday!

Karl's Paradise is where to stay!🎵

Not very long, all the Critters gathered up to meet Saxxo at the main entrance, and King Karl came out to introduce himself to his old "pal" Andy.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE, KARL?!! WHAT IS THIS?!! HAVE YOU GONE CRAZY?!!"

"Uh uh uh, Andy! The rules of the Paradise states that you must be on your best behavior! That includes watching your profanity!"

"WHY ARE YOU ACTING THIS WAY?! DON'T TELL ME THIS HAS SOMETHING TO DO WITH YOUR DAMN SHOW BEING CANCELLED!!"

"Ah, you're a fast learner! You see, as king of the Paradise, it is my duty to make sure all of my subjects are happy, including myself! And when you take away the thing that means so much to me, that makes me unhappy. So, if you're not gonna cooperate in the Paradise, I kindly ask you to leave. Or better yet... ...split!"

Saxxo released Andy's shoulders and grabbed for his arm. Barkstone grabbed the other arm. Van Goose and Fins took his legs. The four Critters started to tug in opposite directions. Andy let out some blood curdling screams. Karl was singing a musical number from his show, "Why Win When You Can Have Fun," as the others danced in place. They made it look like it were a happy time, when it really wasn't. The four Critters kept tugging with all their might, until Andy's limbs ultimately popped off.

Karl stopped singing and announced to his Critters that they shall have a feast to celebrate. Andy's limbless corpse was left to lie there on the floor. He was still alive, but he would eventually die soon from blood drainage. Feeling helpless, all the man could do was weep in pain.

Karl's Paradise was made possible by the unfortunate fools who failed to escape their fate here at the now confined Tam Studios, and viewers like you. Thank you.

#The Banana Splits Movie #Remake #horror #original characters #Masklophobia #Blood tw #Gore tw #(I guess text limitation works better on desktop site)

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sockablock · 4 years

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When in sudden need of a place to stay, Caleb Widogast finds a room for rent at a price so low he can’t believe his luck. Ignoring the concerns of his friends, he moves in and quickly finds himself tangled up in the life of one Essek Thelyss, a reclusive scholar who may be even stranger than Caleb himself...

(start) - (previous) - (next)

Chapter 2: A Name to the Face

The sun lanced arcs across Caleb’s face as he set his phone down on the nightstand, and yawned.

He’d gotten used to sleeping in strange places during the last few years of his life, and there was a part of him that missed the coziness of his room back in his and Nott’s apartment. But the other part of him, namely the part comprised of bruises from too-narrow walls—relished in this chance to stretch out a little.

Eventually, he managed to sit up. The mattress did not dip sullenly with his weight, indicative of its newness and quality.

He glanced around. The door was closed, though Frumpkin was nowhere to be seen. Then again, mundane cats were already hard enough to confine; as a feline of the fey persuasion, Frumpkin went where Frumpkin pleased.

Caleb took his sweet time making the bed, adjusting the blinds, peering out the window over quiet streets, before eventually rifling through his cardboard boxes for something proper to wear. He also made a mental note to, at some point, ask Mr. Thelyss how the laundry worked.

Then he straightened his collar, took a deep breath, and wandered out into the kitchen.

—

Jester was nose-deep in a box of cinnamon rolls when Beauregard emerged from the shower. Peals of steam curled past the doorframe and dissipated out into the hallway.

“I thought those were supposed to last us the week,” Beau said when she noticed her roommate. “Didn’t we decide we wouldn’t go back to the bakery until Thursday?”

“Oh, but Beau,” icing shimmered in the corner of Jester’s mouth. “Beau, they’re just so tasty. I can’t resist.”

Beauregard pulled the towel off her head and gave her hair one last muss-up. Then she slung herself backwards into a chair and stole some frosting.

“Fair enough,” she licked a finger. “Just be sure to save something for Yasha when she gets back.”

“Back?” Jester’s cheerful demeanor vanished. “Oh, no, did she leave again? I thought she was done doing that!”

“Oh, no she didn’t run off, I think she just went to some errands, or something?” Beau scratched the side of her head. “She mentioned something about seeing a butcher.”

“Oh.” Jester relaxed. “Well that’s alright, then. Though we don’t really cook much.”

“Maybe she’s trying something new. It’s better than eating rats all the time, right?”

Jester gave this due consideration. “I think she only did that once. And then Fjord threw up, so she decided to stop.”

“Hm,” Beau shrugged. “I guess that’s nice of her. Oh, hey, speaking of stopping, what the hell is up with Caleb? Has he responded? With pictures and actual information?”

Jester groaned. “He’s being a real butt about it. He’s obviously there, but he isn’t sending us anything good.”

Beau raised a cinnamon roll. “The bastard.”

—

In the light of day, Mr. Thelyss’s kitchen gleamed with tidiness and disuse. In fact, it seemed like only the coffeemaker and microwave ever got any attention from their owner.

Caleb added another step to his mental moving day to-do-list: find the nearest grocery store and get some cereal. And coffee. And maybe a loaf of bread, if he was feeling extravagant.

He settled instead for pouring himself a glass of water and vowing that he would at least pick up lunch once he actually ventured outside. He slid into the kitchen, found a neutral-looking glass cup, and filled it up in the sink.

When he turned, he realized that something was different about the counter.

The little box of cheesecake was gone.

There was a note left, however. It read: Thank you very much, Mr. Widogast.

So, Caleb thought to himself. This meant that his mystery landlord had come home at some point in the night. And…as his gaze drifted past the kitchen and over to the front door of the apartment…yes, there in the foyer was a pair of shoes and a fine, but thin, black cloak.

Caleb had never seen anything like it before. It seemed as if the pattern had been designed to almost be worn like some kind of long poncho. Its hem brushed just over the floor.

What kind of person would wear something like this? The amused thought of vampire briefly flickered through his mind, but he shook it off and chalked it up to spending too much time with Jester.

He glanced back at the note. Something in him also registered: charmingly polite.

He shook his head. Speaking of Jester, he still had a promise to fulfill…

—

“Fjord, those are ugly.”

“What? I think they look nice—”

“Nice won’t cut it! I need something amazing! It’s been months since I’ve last seen Yeza. I have to really blow him away.”

“Look, what you see is what we’ve got. And anyway, what’s wrong with Delphiniums—”

Nott was standing on a small turquoise stool that some of the more vertically-challenged customers of the Blooming Grove required to reach the counter. Her finger was swaying dangerously underneath the nose of a long-time friend and even longer-time frenemy, Fjord, currently on register duty.

All around them, the sweet and mellow scent of dozens upon dozens of coastal flowers twirled and trilled and danced through the air. Large windows set into the pale green walls let in sunlight and a view of the gardens out back.

“They’re blue!” Nott screeched. “I don’t want blue, Yeza’s going to think I’m not happy to see him!”

“Everyone likes blue,” Fjord said defensively. “Just look at Jester. She’s practically got a fan club. Fine, fine,” he added, when her expression didn’t change, “I can do you some roses—”

“Roses are cliché.”

“They’re a goddamn symbol of love, Nott.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but I don’t just want a symbol of love, I want a symbol of…of passion. Of devotion. Of l—”

“Look, just wait a bit, and Caduceus will be back. He’s the one who actually knows the names of all these things,” Fjord sighed. “He’ll be able to tell you if those even are Delphiniums.”

There was a moment’s pause.

“How have you managed to keep this job, Fjord?”

“I don’t have to help you, you know.”

“Technically, I think you d—"

And then, their phones buzzed.

—

Nott glanced back at Fjord.

“Do you think he doesn’t know?”

Fjord shrugged. “Let’s just see what he says.”

Nott groaned. “It’ll probably be hours until we find out.”

—

“He’s going to die tonight, then,” said Beau, kicking off her sneakers. The front door shut behind her with a click. “That’s, like, the first rule to committing a crime. Don’t let them see your face.”

“I think it’s kind of romantic,” Jester said. Now she was in the living room, sprawled across the couch. “It’s like…a forbidden meeting. Maybe he’ll never find out what Essie looks like. Isn’t that sad?”

“Essek,” Beau corrected, and set her keys aside. “And I don’t see what’s so sad about that.”

“Oh, but it is,” Jester lavished in her sigh. “The saddest and loneliest kind of thing. To never see who you’re living with? If you can’t even put a face to the name, you might as well be sharing your house with a ghost.”

Beau raised an eyebrow. “That’s…a little dramatic, but I see what you mean. Anyway, this is a point against the guy. In my books, that is. And I’m keeping track.”

“Oh? How many points does he have?”

Beau joined her on the couch and crossed her arms. “Not many. He’s mysterious, and weird. Those are negatives. Standoffish, if he didn’t even greet Caleb on the first day. And if he isn’t a criminal, and is actually renting out a place that cheap, he must be a total idiot. Or desperate.”

“For what?” Jester asked.

She shrugged. “Who knows? The company?”

—

Essek was, as a matter of fact, quite desperate. Desperate for another five minutes of sleep.

It was now long after the Mighty Nein had given up on their interrogation, though he was not aware of this. Instead, what was most on his mind was the strange…the odd vibrating right next to his head.

Blindly, he reached out to slap his alarm. His hand connected, but the noise did not stop.

Then he realized that it was coming from the other side of the bed.

He shuffled around to take a peek.

An eye was staring back at him. Large and blue.

“What in the name of the L—”

The cat yawned, and its mouth stretched open to reveal rows of teeth.

Essek hesitated. He rubbed his face.

“How did…what is…”

And then the puzzle pieces slid into place.

He racked his brain for the name.

“F…Fr…Frumpkin?” he guessed.

The cat yawned again. This time, it followed the gesture up with a mrpf, and unfurled its body. And stretched.

“Hm,” said Essek. “He did…warn me, but…I am not sure if I approve of you coming in here like this. Without announcement, especially.”

Frumpkin stared back up at him. He tilted his head and put on his most endearing expression.

“Well,” Essek relented in the onslaught of this, “at least you don’t seem to be the kind that sheds. Actually…”

He leaned in as close as he dared, a pair of icy eyes tracking his every movement.

“…actually, I’m not at all sure what kind of kitty you are. Your ears are…very long. And your markings are…”

And then Essek realized.

“A familiar?”

Frumpkin blinked at him.

—

Caleb had found the grocery store on his second try, and had also made note of a bookstore and bus stop on the way there. Now, after a long day of scouting out the neighborhood, he was back in his bedroom again, sorting clothes. No use in holding off, after all, not even if it made him feel slightly strange to be putting all his things away in someone else’s bedroom.

He picked up a t-shirt and examined the back. STAFF, it read. He had no idea for what. The Broad Barn’s secondhand clothing pile was vague at best and hazardous at worst.

Another part of Caleb, the part not fully consumed by the current task at hand, registered the faintest sound outside. It was ruled out as being not important.

Caleb produced another shirt. This one had a picture of a cat on it, red beams of light shooting out from its eyes. This had been a New Dawn present from—surprising to everyone—Yasha.

It had thus far found a long and happy life as the top half of Caleb’s pajamas. He’d tried to wear it in public once, and been bullied mercilessly by Beauregard.

On the other side of the room, past the drawers and the bed, was a small folding table that had been set up by Essek, likely as a desk. It was the sort of low contraption that eliminated any possibility of chairs, but it made a lot of sense for apartment living and was sized well enough for sitting on the floor. It was miles above Caleb’s old arrangement, a piece of plywood on a milk crate.

Right now, this new desk was covered in reams upon reams of notebook paper. Contrary to expectation, however, this paper was not lined with the standard narrow rule of most academic stationary. Instead, a pattern of lines and circles extended out from the center of the page, covering every inch in an odd spiral. Dozens upon dozens of these sheets were strewn about now, with hasty pencil-markings splattered across the page.

A particularly keen-eyed individual might have noticed that some of the markings were crossed-out. Redoubled, re-arranged, re-placed, or removed.

A particularly keen-eyed individual with the right kind of background would have noticed immediately that many of these runes were transmutative.

Back on his side of the bed, Caleb was humming.

—

When the cat—the familiar, likely a fey one, at that—did not decide to claw Essek’s eyes out, he gingerly picked it up under its forearms and carried it out of his bedroom.

He entered the living room, and saw that it was empty. The curtains were drawn open, however, and at this point the late-summer sun was just beginning to crest low over the horizon.

Essek raised an eyebrow at Frumpkin. “So. Where is your master, hm?”

Frumpkin meowed. It meant absolutely nothing to Essek, but he nodded anyway on principle.

“I understand that you are…well, from what I think I know about ordinary cats, you might like to wander around. But the same rules that apply to your wizard apply to you as well, okay?”

He walked Frumpkin into the living room and put him down on the couch.

“I would appreciate it if you did not enter my bedroom without invitation. The study as well, yes? Meow if you understand.”

Frumpkin stared at him. Frumpkin opened his mouth. Frumpkin closed it again.

It was a vague enough gesture that Essek could not tell if this was a response. He sighed.

“This is why I never bothered with getting one of you, you know. And I’m not even talking about the food bills. Er…do you eat?”

Frumpkin repeated the gesture. Essek repeated it back at the cat in a burst of childish impulse, then caught himself.

Gods, talking to Verin yesterday must have put him in an odd mood. And his brother had kept going on and on about life back in Rosohna, about how wonderful it is, Essek, how much Mother misses you, Essek, how I wish you’d visit, Essek—all that nostalgia couldn’t be good for the mind. Especially when unsolicited.

Still, this did not stop him from checking his messages in the kitchen while he waited for his morning—afternoon—evening—coffee to brew. In the background, Frumpkin rolled over on the sofa. Verin had mentioned something that he’d wanted to talk about, that he’d send over later…

Essek opened up their conversation. Then he scowled.

—

A solitary figure stalked through the dimming streets of Nicodranas. She stretched, working out the knots in her back, upper arms, feeling the scabs on her knuckles and their sting.

She grinned, wide and toothy, in the sunset.

Unconventional, but it worked.

—

Caleb had a perfect memory, and never forget anything. As such, the three core tenets of his tenancy in this apartment were virtually scored into his mind.

Be quiet. Be organized. And do the recycling.

Now he stood outside the apartment complex. The winding streets formed a gentle little plaza where the neighboring buildings all shared an open space, which included the public recycling cans.

There hadn’t actually been that much to take out, aside from an empty carton of ramen, a few cat food tins, and some assorted items that Mr. Thelyss must have left behind last night. Still, Caleb had wanted to prove how serious he was about following the Code of Conduct, and so had made the journey downstairs to be a responsible citizen.

The breeze wound around his ankles. Nearby, a few kids were running around with their mother, and a jogger moseyed past their street. It was a peaceful sight, underscored by the distant call of gulls and a setting sun.

Caleb had just nudged open the lid of the recycling bin when the shouting began.

Actually, it was less of a shouting and more of a heated argument, augmented by the harsh syllables of a language that Caleb did not recognize.

If he had, it would have sounded something like this:

“—impossible! I refuse. I did not give my permission—”

“Permission? Why would she need your permission—”

“Because it is my house! And this is my city—”

“Your city? Brother, you’ve only been there a few months—”

“It’s been a year and a half, Verin. A peaceful year and a half, mind.”

“Really? Well, I am certain it will remain that. And anyway, she’s not even going there for you.”

“Hah! I have a feeling that she is visiting Nicodranas expressly to do so. The gala is just an excuse for her to come here and poke into everything I’m doing—”

“Look, look, don’t shout at me. I am just the messenger. If you’re so upset, go and call Mother—”

Caleb swung the bag into the can. As he closed the lid, his curiosity got the better of him and he found himself surreptitiously scanning the perimeter with the universal creep of eavesdroppers everywhere.

Quickly, he found the source of the sound. There was a figure standing in front of his building, pacing back and forth underneath the awning, waving one hand around in frustration. The shadows prevented him from getting a better look, but the figure seemed lithe, and very annoyed.

Caleb would have to slip past him to get back inside.

Tactically, he pulled out his phone and pretended to be incredibly engrossed with its contents. Luckily, it seemed to work—and out of the corner of his eye he even noticed the figure hastily stepping aside.

Then, unluckily, the figure followed him.

Caleb didn’t dare look up. But he could feel the stranger’s presence trail him all the way into the elevator, then settle down next to him as the doors slid shut.

Caleb went to hit the number four. So did the stranger. Their fingers collided.

“Ah—"

“Scheisse, I am sor—”

And then he stopped.

Caleb Widogast was decidedly not a man of the world. He’d never left the continent of Wildemount, for instance, nor could he claim to have seen everything it had to offer. But he had fancied himself rather well-read, and believed that he perhaps had experienced more than the average person.

This was the first time in his life that he’d seen a dark elf.

He knew that they existed, of course, but in the way that he knew the names of far-off places, as distant trivia irrelevant to his life. He knew, for example, that they were native to Xhorhas, and that many of their societies lived underground. He knew that their closest civilization was ruled by a powerful queen. He also knew that in less-polite circles, some Empire elites still believed them to be backwater savages and monsters.

This one was wearing a green t-shirt. His hair was a messy sweep to one side.

“—ry.” He finished, as quickly as he could.

The dark elf shrugged. His eyes—a pale slate gray—took in Caleb’s appearance, then the number they’d both pressed.

“I do not recall ever seeing you,” the elf said. His voice was still a little strained, as if something from before—that argument, perhaps—was bothering him immensely.

“I, ah, I’m new,” Caleb said.

The elf raised an eyebrow. “I see.”

Then he turned back around to stare at the door. Caleb was more than happy not to engage. He just hoped he hadn’t stared long enough to offend a potential neighbor.

The elevator rose three floors. On the fourth one, it stopped.

He quickly ducked out, sandals pattering on the ground, and it was only once he’d gotten to the door of his apartment and started to punch in the code that he realized the elf was still behind him, still standing there, still annoyed, and so he turned—

—

“Excuse me,” said Essek tetchily. “Why are you entering my home?”

The human blinked.

“Er…this is…where I live.”

“What? But—”

For the second time that day, Essek realized.

“Um,” said Caleb Widogast. “Would your last name...happen to be ‘Thelyss’?”

— — —

✨ Ko-Fi Link in Bio! ✨ | Requests are OPEN

#critical role #critrole #critfic #fic #shadowgast #fanfiction #long post #REALLY LONG POST #im so sorry if the break doesn't work dfhgjk #fanfic #cr2 #the mighty nein #modern au #now what are the chances of that #jay writes #text

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musical-in-theory · 3 years

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Caught in the Crossfire

Chapter 3: Did Someone Say Rebellion?

Chapter 1: x Chapter 2: x

Wilbur fidgeted with his beanie in his hands. His fingers trailed roughly over its fabric and caught on its worn through holes. The poor piece of clothing had seen better days, but barely anyone had ever seen the man without it. Even L’manburg’s revolutionary army could tell you he wore it underneath his tricorn hat.

Now it was being wrung through his hands in worry. Dream was supposed to meet with him hours ago, but the masked man was nowhere to be seen. He needed to get back to Tommy. They only really had each other, despite having the equivalent of a god on their side. Wilbur trusted Tommy with a lot, but Tommy had already shown that he couldn’t be trusted with his own safety. Ever since he lost his second life in the duel, Wilbur hadn’t been able to completely relax while his little brother was out of sight.

Wilbur shivered and clutched at his coat. It was nearly nightfall, and Wilbur knew all too well how the cold could settle into his bones once the sun set. He made as if to turn back the way he came and start the walk back to Pogtopia when he was interrupted by a familiar voice.

“Leaving so soon?” Dream said with a teasing lilt to his voice.

Anger blazed through his worry and frustration, or perhaps the rage was heightened by it. “Where the fuck have you been? I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but I don’t exactly have all the time in the world for you to decide I’m worth yours! So unless you’ve brought something that could make up for the two fucking hours I just spent waiting on you, I’d suggest you go back to sitting on your goddamn high horse to keep looking down on us mere fucking mortals, your Highness.” Wilbur’s shoulders heaved as he tried to breathe through his outburst.

He shook his head and put his beanie back on, steeling his expression to keep from giving away his own surprise. He worked so hard for so long to keep his emotions in check, only ever letting them out for his music. In conversations, he stayed professional, in control. He needed to be the level-headed one to his brothers’ chaos. He didn’t know what it was about Dream that allowed this control to slip away from him. It was like the green bastard could read him like a book.

Wilbur looked back up at Dream expecting to see signs of aggression or retaliation, but instead his shoulders were shaking under the force of barely contained laughter. “Wow, it’s been a while since anyone’s had the gall to yell at me like that. If it were coming from someone who actually posed a threat, I might have even been scared. It’s kinda refreshing.”

Wilbur resisted the urge to glare at him for the backhanded compliment. He kept his stare blank and his face neutral in a practiced fashion as he could hear the unsaid threat that loomed underneath the statement. I could destroy you and you wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.

Dream cleared his throat and continued, “I do have something that could be of some value. I have an idea about our next move. As I recall, one of my most devastating moves was recruiting a spy on the inside.” Dream walked over to Wilbur and circled behind him. He placed his hands on the ex-leader’s shoulders and whispered, “As luck would have it, Schlatt is keeping quite the promising candidate close to his side. His right hand man, I believe he called him?”

Wilbur wrenched himself from Dream’s grasp and put distance between the two of them. “Tubbo? I don’t know, Dream. Eret’s situation was different. His life was already on the line with the war. It wasn’t as if he was risking anything new in that scenario. Tubbo has so much more to lose if he’s caught as a spy…” Wilbur looked away towards the direction of Manburg.

Dream put his hands up in a placating fashion and chuckled. “I get your point. I do, but he’s also your only option. Nikki is the only other one that’s shown even the slightest bit of sympathy towards your cause, but Schlatt obviously trusts her about as much as he can throw her. She’s been very… outspoken about her dislike of his administration. Tubbo can be persuaded out of his shaky allegiance to Schlatt. He’s Tommy’s best friend. You can use that.”

The thought of using Tommy and Tubbo’s friendship for his own gain sat like lead in his stomach. It was far too much to put on the kid’s shoulders. Wilbur sighed tiredly. The anger-fueled adrenaline had all but drained from his veins. “We made a deal, Dream. What you say goes. I don’t like this at all, but-” He was cut off by more laughter from the other.

“Soot, this isn’t- this isn’t an order. This is just a suggestion. Trust me, you’ll know when the time comes for me to give you an order. For now, I just want to advise you on how to get your little rebellion off the ground. You can say no, but I’d strongly advise you to reconsider.” Dream shook his head. “Just sleep on the idea. You can give me your answer the next time we meet. But you should probably head back. It’s gonna get cold soon, and we don’t have any burning flags around to warm us up.” With that, Dream turned on his heel and walked back into the forest the way he came.

Wilbur watched his retreating back for a moment before doing the same. That was the thing about Dream he hated the most; He was always able to point out the difficult truths. Wilbur despised the idea of using a child as a spy, especially when it was Tubbo. He already felt enough guilt about having him and Tommy fight in a war that he should have been able to prevent. But Dream was right about needing someone on the inside.

Wilbur shook his head and picked up his pace. He could think about that later. He needed to get back to Tommy quickly. The kid had been acting off for half a week. Anytime Wilbur would seek him out for something, he’d start fidgeting and avoiding his eyes. Tommy was nervous, and it set Wilbur on edge. Now wasn’t the time for Tommy to start keeping secrets from him. Not when it was practically just the two of them left.

His shoulders sagged in relief as he finally saw the mound of dirt that signified Pogtopia. The dirt that disguised the opening was a bit shifted out of place, but Wilbur learned early on that it was just another way to tell that Tommy had gone out and come back. He didn’t have a reason to suspect anything until he hit the stairs down into the ravine.

Two voices sounded from below. They were hushed which immediately set Wilbur on edge. His mind raced. He was terrified of the prospect that someone else had found their base and had already found Tommy. He could easily pick out his little brother’s voice despite his unusually quiet tone. Images flashed through his head of arrows raining down on his head, chasing him, piercing him, killing him, as he fled from people he used to trust. Worry that one of them had finally found the duo had his mouth filling with bile.

That’s when he heard the unmistakable baritone of the other’s voice. It froze Wilbur where he stood. It brought back far too many memories, almost all of which had been tainted by the bittersweet passage of time. He quickly shook himself out of his stupor and dashed down the rest of the stairs.

His eyes immediately focused on the shock of bright pink hair standing in the middle of the walkway. He missed the look on Tommy’s face of both fear and hope. Instead, he could only watch as the man that had been speaking with the young exile turned around to face him for the first time in years.

Technoblade had joined the game.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

4 days earlier

Techno put the last of his netherite scraps into his chest and shut the lid with a sigh. His latest trip to the nether hadn’t been as productive as usual, but that couldn’t be helped. The mobs were starting to grow restless in this world, and a small part of Techno sympathized. This had been the longest he’d ever stayed in one place since he’d parted from his family.

He cringed inwardly as he thought about the people he left behind. He never meant to be gone as long as he had been, but it seemed like the longer he was gone, the harder it was to return. More often than not, he’d just force himself to stop thinking about it or throw himself into another meaningless battle.

The relentless buzz of his communicator drew him from his thoughts. His eyes widened in surprise. It was Tommy. Years ago Phil had helped code their communicators so that they could all message each other no matter if they were all on separate worlds. Not that any of them had particularly used this feature other than Phil making sure none of them were dead.

TommyInnit: hey there bitch! wilbur needs you to come to the dream SMP land. we kinda bit off more than we can chew, and this guy schlatt went and fucked everything up. not that I don’t have everything handled and shit. being a Big Man and all. but maybe you could just stop bye and help out for a bit, yeah?

Techno snorted. He knew immediately that this was Tommy’s way of trying to brush off the fact that he needed help. He looked over the message a few more times and tried to ignore the slight sting that accompanied it being Tommy and not Wilbur that reached out. It was clear that the two of them were together, but he’d only heard from one of them.

He looked out the window. Night was beginning to fall, and Techno could see mobs already spawning. He sighed at the thought of going through the motions of getting rid of the ones that strayed just a little too close to his base. It all had become too monotonous lately.

He eyed the communicator again and smirked. Perhaps it was time for a change of pace. From what he heard of Dream’s land, a fair amount of people lived there. Plenty of people to fight, especially if Tommy was there to rile them up.

Technoblade: What’s in it for me?

It was less than a second before Tommy responded. Techno laughed as he read over the message, although deep down it worried him how desperate it felt.

TommyInnit: WOMEN

Technoblade: I guarantee you don’t know any

TommyInnit: i’ll get wilbur to spar with you again

Now, that sparked Techno’s interest. He was going to say yes anyway, but getting to fight with his twin was too good a chance to pass up. He wanted to see if Wilbur had improved any from the last time they’d seen each other. It was a question that popped up every so often when his brothers’ safety ever came across his mind.

Technoblade: You’ve got yourself a deal. I need to tie off a few loose ends here, but I’ll be there in a few days. Keep an eye out and stay safe, gremlin child.

The buzz sounded again, but Techno didn’t look. He could live without the rant about being called a child. He left his communicator on the table while he left to start gathering up the necessities for world travel.

TommyInnit: please hurry…

Thanks everyone for reading! Also thanks for being patient. Finals kicked my ass and I needed some time to focus on that. Thanks once again to @the-ruler-of-rabbits for being such a lovely beta reader! I really hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. I’m really excited for the next one. Wilbur and Techno get the chance to talk, and it might not go how either of them expect it to.

Taglist:

@obsidiancreates @strawberiitea @coindoesstuff @unlikelypaperwitch @corrine-370 @crazymecjc @ducklingqueen @idkhowbutimgayer @whydoilovesomanyvillians @anne-the-historian-ish @wilburs-soot @belonginthesky

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#writing in theory #dream smp #dream smp fanfiction #mcyt #mcyt fanfiction #dreamwastaken #wilbur soot #villain wilbur #tommyinnit #tommy innit #technoblade #tubbo #tubbo_

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kpop---scenarios · 4 years

Text

Mated (2)

Read Part One

Commissioned by: @knowexoknowlife

Warning: Some violence, Smut

Word Count: 6.1k

"Are you sleeping?" You whisper to Sehun, who had barely said ten words to you since this afternoon's discovery.

"No." He whispers, still rolled onto his side not facing you.

You weren't sure what you could do for him. It's not as though you had planned on having two mates, or like you wanted it. You would never purposely hurt Sehun, but sometimes things work out in a funny way.

"I'm sorry.." you sniffle, unable to stop the tears from falling.

"It's not your fault." Sehun sighs, still not facing you. You wished he would roll over and wrap his arms around you, tell you sweetly that he wasn't mad and it wasn't your fault, and mean it.

Although he coldly said what you wished to hear, you could hear it in his voice that he wasn't convinced it wasn't your fault.

"You don't sound overly convinced." You sigh, wiping away the tears. "I just want us to be okay."

"Because I'm not convinced Y/N. Christ. What am I supposed to do? The girl I love and am meant to be with, is also meant to be with my fucking brother. None of this is okay, I'm not okay." He snaps, abruptly standing up and storming out of the room, making sure to not slam the door too hard.

You crawl out of the bed, looking out the window you can see Sehun running through the field towards the forest, disappearing into the darkness of the trees.

Now the tears really wouldn't stop. You slide down the wall, wrapping your arms around your knees as you lower your head and sob.

Knock

Your head raises at the sound of light knocking at your door. You quickly wipe your tears before standing up and walking to the door to open it. When you do, you're surprised to see a sympathetic Suho standing there, his head lowered, allowing his shaggy brown hair to fall around his face.

"Are you okay?" He whispers, his voice lowered.

"H-how.." you stutter before he cuts you off.

"Wolves have impeccable hearing." He whispers, raising his head to look at you, his eyes filled with sadness. "Look, Sehun is the youngest, he still has a hard time digesting things, especially big things like this. Give him some time." He sighs. "I wish I could say that I would do anything to help, but I know he would ask me to step aside and I'm afraid I just can't do that." He says, looking you straight in the eyes. "There's something so special about you Y/N, and I refuse to give up without a fight, even if it's my own brother."

Your breath hitches as you take in his words, your heart's pounding as Suho leans his face in closer to yours. "I'll do anything to win your heart." He finishes. He leans in closer, placing a small kiss on your lips before walking back to his room, while you suffer, wondering how you're ever going to make a choice.

You fall asleep as you wait for Sehun to come back, all the crying you've done tiring you out beyond belief.

For the next week you try to talk with Sehun, but he's either gone or ignores you.

He'll talk to you when he's ready, you guessed. But as the week passed, you began to get increasingly more angry. You purposely avoided Suho to make sure you didn't offend Sehun anymore, but you honestly just wanted to spend some time with him.

You couldn't. Not yet. Not until Sehun calmed down. When he showed no signs of stopping, you decided to stop pretending Suho didn't exist. You allow yourself to slowly begin to notice him more, and Sehun would just have to deal with it.

When you awake in the morning, you're greeted by a still empty bed, again, and a giant headache. You lay still for a few minutes contemplating what to do. Do you go downstairs and see if he's down there? Do you try to talk to him? Do you stay up here and wait for him?

You decided to put on your big girl pants and head downstairs to find Sehun and talk to him. Enough was enough. The anxiety you felt in roaming through your entire body though was making you feel weak, but you couldn't be like this any longer.

You hold onto the railing as you try to silently creep down the stairs, listening intently to the voices you hear in the living room and kitchen, trying to see if you can hear Sehun's.

You can't.

As you reach the bottom of the stairs, you're met with half smiles by Baekhyun and Yixing, Chanyeol only giving you a quick glance. This was embarrassing.

"Have any of you seen Sehun?" You ask in a whisper.

"I think he went on a run with Minseok." Baekhyun says, trying to give you a smile.

You wished you could just speak with Sehun and get everything sorted out. If he wanted you to reject Suho.. would you be able too? You didn't know, and you didn't want to have to think about making that decision unless it was absolutely necessary, and right now it wasn't.

"Y/N, may I speak with you?" Yixing asks, bringing you out of your thoughts.

"Sure." You say, but before you're able to follow him the back door by the kitchen opens, revealing a sweating and shirtless Suho. Your breath hitches as your eyes slowly trail down from his face to his rock hard abs. "Shit." You whisper as you raise your eyes, locking in with his, unable to break the contact.

"So it begins." You hear someone snap. Looking away from Suho, you catch the back of Sehun as he turns up the stairs, walking away from you.

Looking back at Suho, you shoot him an apologetic smile before running after Sehun. You're not sure why you did it, you didn't truly owe Suho anything, but you felt like you did. Like everything you've given to Sehun, you should give to Suho too.

"You're back.." you say, walking into the room you and Sehun are supposed to be sharing.

"I am. Looks like you sure missed me." He snaps, putting a fresh shirt on.

"I did, actually." You say, beginning to get annoyed. "I haven't seen you all week."

"Oh yeah, it really looked like it. I apologize for interrupting your moment with Suho." He spits, turning to walk out the door.

"Are you fucking serious right now?" You snap. Sehun stops in his tracks, turning his head slightly to look back at you. You stand there, your body full of rage as you cross your arms, waiting for him to answer.

"What?" He asks.

"I said, are you fucking serious? You're acting like a goddamn child." You yell.

"I.." he begins before you cut him off.

"Don't. It's my turn." You stop him. "I get you're upset, trying to wrap your head around this but you're not the only goddamn person struggling here. Did you stop to think about how I may be feeling this while you were throwing your bitch baby tantrum? How I might be handling this? Cause I'm not doing very fucking well, but I guess you wouldn't know because it's been the Sehun Show all fucking week." You yell. "I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask to be something special like the Gemini Mate, but it's happened and now we need to figure it the fuck out. Either get on board, or back the fuck off. Your choice." You finish before storming out the room. You race down the stairs, passing the men who are standing there with their mouths hanging open, and storm towards the forest.

"Fuck that guy." You growl, stomping your way through the woods. You couldn't believe that he was acting that way. It's not like you chose this to be your life. You didn't ever plan for this to happen, but like works in mysterious ways.

After a while of walking, you finally sit down on a large log, taking a few deep breaths, breathing in the fresh air. It took you a few moments of looks around to realize that you had no idea where you were, or what direction you even came from. You tried thinking back to what you remembered seeing, but honestly you had been too mad to really focus on any of your surroundings, your mind had been cluttered with angry thoughts.

"Shit." You whisper as you stand up, walking in the direction you hoped was towards the house.

"How long ago did she leave?" Suho snaps at Sehun.

"It's been a while." Sehun admits. "Like 3 hours."

"And you've been in here, not doing a fucking thing? Why didn't you go after her!?" Suho yells.

"I was pissed off! And so was she! I'm sure she just wanted some time." Sehun says.

"It's getting dark now, and you know lone wolves like to prowl this forest. What the fuck are you going to do if one of them catches her?" Suho asks. His heart breaks slightly at the thought of you being taken or injured, he can't let that happen.

Suho rushes out the back door, Sehun follows quickly behind him.

"You stay here!" Suho yells.

"I can't. I can't let anything happen to her, I shouldn't have waited so long." Sehun admits.

"Fine. Take the left side of the forest and I'll take the right." Suho says, running towards his side before his body tears apart and phases into his wolf form.

Your stomach drops as you continue to walk, seemingly deeper and deeper into the forest. You can hear the sounds of howling beneath the sounds of leaves crunching as you walk. You're terrified as you heat the sounds of twigs snapping behind you, along with a low whine.

You do your best to pick up your pace, but keep quiet at the same time, unfortunately the heavy breath behind you is coming up quickly.

"Fuck fuck fuck." You whisper as you crouch behind a large log, hoping whatever was behind you will continue on its path and forget about you.

You really hoped, but you weren't that lucky.

As you sat there with your knees to your chest and your eyes squeezed tightly shut, you could feel the hot breath of something down your neck. Tears slowly fell as you continued to try and remain quiet, needing whatever this was to leave now.

But it didn't. Instead you felt a clamp on your bun before you were being dragged from behind the log. You kicked and screamed, but nothing came of it. You opened your eyes as you lay on the forest floor and you're being hovered by a very large white wolf.

You felt uneasy, so you knew this wasn't one of the wolves you had met with Sehun. It must be a lone wolf. You had heard stories about the lone wolves. Violent, angry, generally had zero regard for human life, mated or not. They would take you, keep you for as long as they felt, did whatever they wanted before killing you and disposing of you somewhere. You didn't want that.

Despite you knowing all this information, it still didn't stop you from attempting to plead with him, in hopes that maybe, just maybe he had some shred of care left inside of him.

That wasn't the case.

"Please, please don't take me. I have two mates, which means twice the trouble for you. I'm not worth it, please." You beg. You didn't want to be taken by him. You could feel your heart breaking at the thought of leaving Suho and Sehun behind, never being able to touch Sehun again or loving him, never getting the chance to love Suho. This couldn't happen to you.

The wolf snarled at you, saliva dripping from his snout as he snapped.

"Please." You cry before he lunges for you, his teeth ripping into the flesh of your arm. You let out a loud shriek as his teeth sink further into you.

Seconds later, you hear the sound of another body colliding and the relief of no more teeth in your arm. You hear fighting, turning your head you see the grey wolf snarling before taking a chunk out of the white wolf's back. The lone wolf runs off quickly, whimpering as he goes. You feel yourself fading in and out of consciousness as your almost lifeless body is being picked up, the chest of whoever helped you hot to the touch.

"It's okay baby. I got you." Is all you hear, and Suho's face is all you see before you pass out in his arms as he runs you back to the house.

"What the hell happened!?" Yixing yells, as he swipes books and papers off the kitchen table.

"A lone wolf got her." Suho huffs, running his hands through his hair.

"You should wash up. Yixing's got this." Minseok reassures Suho.

"No. I can't leave her! I just found her, I can't.. I just.." Suho breaks. He rushes around the table, grabbing onto your other hand, holding it tightly.

"W-what.. what happened?" Sehun asks as he comes in the front door and sees you lying unconsciously on the table.

"A lone wolf got to her!" Suho yells. "All because you've been too much of a fucking bitch about this situation. We're her mates. We're supposed to protect her! And because of you, I backed off to give you space, but christ, it's been a week and I'm done. She's my fucking mate too, and I refuse to let something like this to happen again because you can't accept it." He snaps.

"I'm sorry.." Sehun whispers. He knew he fucked up when you had yelled at him. He wanted to apologize, but wanted to wait until you had returned and calmed down. And now that you were lying lifeless on the kitchen table, he knew he fucked up even worse. Every sense in his body had told him to go after you but he convinced himself he needed to give you time. He should have listened.

"You're sorry?" Suho snaps, letting go of your hand to rush at Sehun, grabbing the collar of his shirt before slamming him against the wall. "Sorry isn't good enough. Stay away from her for a while. Figure out what you want, because I already know. I want her. I'll take all of her if you don't, so figure it out." Suho snaps,letting go of Sehun before walking back to you and grabbing onto your hand once again while Yixing stitches up your other arm.

Hours later, you startle awake, your arm in an immense amount of pain. "Oh my god." You cried, the wound burning.

"Y/N?" You hear from the floor. "Are you okay?" Suho asks as he gets up from the floor, kneeling over the bed.

"It hurts so bad." You cry, your hot tears running down your face. Your arm almost shakes it hurts so badly.

"Here. Yixing said these will help." Suho says, placing some medication in your mouth before giving you some water to drink.

"Thank you." You whisper, already feeling the effects of the medicine. "It works so fast.." you mumble, beginning to doze again.

"It should, it's infused with a special witch herb." He smiles. "Do you need anything else?" Suho asks.

"Cuddle me please." You shiver, your teeth chattering.

Suho happily climbs into his bed and under the covers before wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you in closer to him. This is what he craved, what he needed. And now he finally had it.

The next few days as you recovered, Sehun tried to come see you, but was turned away by Suho or by your voice telling him to go. You weren't ready to face him. You were enjoying your time with Suho and you really didn't want to argue with Sehun.

As the week came to an end, you decided to sit down with Suho and Sehun. As much as you wanted to continue in your bubble with Suho, you needed to set boundaries with them both and go over some guidelines.

"I've called you both here today because it's time we had a chat." You begin. "Would either of you like to say anything?" You ask.

"Me." Sehun says. You nod your head as a signal for him to go ahead.

"I'm so sorry for the way I acted last week. It was immature and selfish, and it almost got you killed. I really hope you can forgive me." Sehun whispers, his eyes trained on the wooden floor.

"Of course I do." You smile as he looks up at you. "But no more, please."

"No more." He agrees.

"Now.." you begin to set the rules between the three of you. "I'll spend 3 nights with each of you, it can be 3 nights in a row or switched off and on every night. Last night will be my decision. Either I will pick one of you to spend it with or I'll spend it by myself." You state. "Let's try to limit the jealousy, if we can. This won't be easy for any of us, but we really need to try." You smile.

An hour later, you had finished with the two of them, setting up your rules and boundaries. You had really hoped that it would help ease the tension between the two men because you didn't know if you could take much more of their fighting.

The first three nights you spent with Sehun, allowing him to properly make up with you for his mistakes.

The next night was your night with Suho, and you had been so desperately waiting for this night. You wanted to have a special night with him, since you had already had a few with Sehun and none with Suho. While he was gone, you slipped one of his t-shirts over your head and crawled into his bed, impatiently waiting for him to get home.

You waited. And waited. And waited. The next thing you knew you woke up as the sun was beginning to rise and you felt Suho's strong arm wrapped around your waist. You could feel his large, hard cock poking into your ass, it made your pussy wet. You smirk as you wiggle your hips, grinding your ass against his cock. Suho moans in his sleep as he stretches, pushing his cock out further into your backside. You reach your hand behind you, grabbing onto his cock, gently pumping as you wait for him to wake up.

"Fuck baby." He groans, moving his hand under your shirt and up your body to cup your breast. After he pinches your nipple, he brings his hand back down and in between your legs.

“Mhm, no panties?” He groans, sitting up before placing his body over yours, hovering over you. "Naughty girl." He smiles as he moves down your body and in between your legs.

Suho spreads your legs and then your lips with his fingers before leaning his head forward, licking a long strip up your already wet pussy. You arch your back with a gasp as your hands grip tightly onto the bed sheets.

“You taste amazing” Suho murmurs before diving back in, sucking on your clit. Without taking his mouth away from your pussy, he drapes your legs over his shoulders as he buries his face further in between your legs.

“Fuck” you gasp as he moves from sucking on your clit to flicking it with the tip of his tongue. He continues to work on your clit while slowly inserting his fingers inside you, pumping in and out, making sure to build your orgasm up. Your hands pull at the bed sheets tighter, almost pulling them off the bed with each lick and suck until you’re almost at your peak.

“I’m going to cum” you cry out, your body twisting as your orgasm comes.

Suho abruptly stops, removing his head from between your legs.

“First time you cum will be all over my cock” he growls, standing up to pull down his bottoms. You can hear the low whine and neediness come from inside as he yearns to be inside you.

He pulls down his pyjama bottoms, throwing them off the bed and allowing his fully erect cock spring free. You gasp at the length and thickness of it, your mouth beginning to drool.

Suho kneels down before pulling you up to face him and then force you down on your front, but making sure your ass is up in the air. He licks his fingers before inserting them inside of you, pumping to make sure you were wet enough for his cock.

"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." He groans. "I love each and every curve on your body, fuck."

Once he was satisfied, he took his fingers out, making you wait for a few seconds, torturing you.

Without warning he thrusts himself into you fully, giving you no chance of adjusting to his size as he stretches you out completely.

“Oh my god” you scream as he pulls out before harshly thrusting himself back inside of you.

Soho’s hands grip you tightly, digging his hot fingertips into your hips as he fucks you, hard.

“Shit baby girl” he groans, continuing with his thrusts. “You’re so tight."

“Your fucking pussy is amazing." He groans, thrusting faster.

“Fuck me harder” you cry, wanting him to destroy you.

“Yes baby. Now play with your clit” he demands.

You reach your hands in between your legs, rubbing the throbbing bud that so badly needed a release.

Your orgasm doesn’t take long to build up again, but it remains right on the brink of throwing you over the edge.

“Do you need to cum, my baby?” He groans into your ear.

“Yes, please” you cry.

“Okay baby, cum” he demands.

As soon as the words left his mouth, your orgasm rushes through your body, causing you to feel like you were going to collapse. Suho grips onto a clump of your hair, tightly as he rams his cock into you, eagerly chasing his own high.

Within seconds his orgasm explodes through him, shuddering as he releases his hot cum inside of you, spreading it throughout. He let's go of your hair, and pulls himself out of you to help you lay down. Your body is weak, you're tired, barely able to keep your eyes open.

Suho places a blanket over top of you as you drift back off to sleep, feeling happy as ever to have his mate.

A few hours later you wake up again, feeling sore but a little more rested and happy. For the first time in a long time you had felt like everything was going to be okay. You struggled as you got out of bed, heading to the door to go downstairs with just Suho's shirt on.

Before you open the door, you see a note on the dresser addressed to you.

My love,

I had to go on a run with the boys, Sehun stayed behind and is waiting for you. I'll see you soon, I love you

- S

You couldn't stop the giant smile from spreading across your face as you read the note over a few more times. He loved you. And you loved him. Sehun loved you, and you loved him. It was nice being loved.

You happily skip down the stairs, excited to spend some time with Sehun.

"There's my baby.." Sehun says, trailing off as he sniffs the air.

"What?" You ask with a small chuckle.

"You smell like his cum." He deadpans, his face no longer happy to see you. Now it's stone cold and angry.

"I'm sorry.. I fell asleep right after." You whisper. You knew you shouldn't feel bad and he wasn't trying to make you feel bad, but you couldn't help it.

"I don't like it." He pouts. "We need to do something about that." He smirks, his tune changing within seconds. Sehun's cock twitches in his jeans as he thinks about fucking you in the living room, filling you up with his cum, having you smell like him rather than another man.

"Oh?" You say before he rushes towards you, pressing his lips to yours harshly.

"Turn around baby." Sehun says, unbuckling his belt buckle and slides his pants, along with his boxers down.

You do as you're told, pressing your front against the wall and spreading your legs.

“It'll be quick baby, don't want to get caught." he whispers in your ear, pumping himself a few times before lining himself up with you.

You cry out and moan as Sehun stretches you out, your pussy still sore from earlier this morning. Your hands press against the wall so harshly your fingers are sore from the pressure.

Sehun fully thrusts himself into you, grunting as he stretches you out.

“Fuck your pussy is so tight” he groans, pulling out of you partially before slamming himself back into you. "You feel so good around my cock."

“Oh my god." You cry out, your face presses against the wall as Sehun grips your waist to keep himself balanced while fucking you.

He throws his head back as he thrusts himself into you, again and again. You can feel your wetness seeping out of you, mixing with Suho's cum and Sehun's pre-cum, coating his cock. Sehun continues to grunt as he rams his cock inside of you, hitting your G spot every time.

“Please don’t stop." you beg.

"Rub your clit." Sehun demands. You reach down in between your thighs and rub yourself, seeking yet another orgasm.

“Oh fuck" you cry out, sticking your ass out a little more.

“I think I’m going to cum" you moan. “Shit" you cry out, your body begins to tremble as your orgasm washes through your body. Your eyes roll back as extremely loud moans leave your mouth.

“Fuck baby" Sehun moans, ramming himself into you, chasing his own high.

You begin to move yourself back, meeting his thrusts as you slightly bounce your ass. “Shit I’m going to cum" he cries out. He reaches around, wrapping his large hand around your neck as he cums inside of you.

"They're back." He grunts, pulling himself from inside you before pulling up his pants and adjusting himself. Your legs are wobbly as you try to stand, the mixture of 2 different mens cum leaking down your leg.

Sehun walks to the kitchen, grabbing a cup of coffee, while you stand there unable to fully walk yet.

"Hey baby.." Suho begins happily until he sees your state. "Are you kidding me?" He snaps at Sehun.

"What?" He asks.

"Look at her? What the fuck did you do?" Suho asks.

"I didn't like her smelling like you." Sehun shrugs.

"When the fuck are you going to grow up and just accept the fact that she loves me too? You can't do this to her, it can be too much. Christ." Suho yells, walking back to you. He picks you up, bringing you to the shower.

Suho strips his shirt off you, helping you in the shower as your body still shakes. You weren't mad at Sehun, you could have said no but you didn't. You wanted him, but he wanted you for the wrong reasons.

You weren't sure if you'd be able to do this whole two mate thing, not with how they had been acting. You couldn't imagine living your life this way, for the rest of your life. You wanted to enjoy your time, not feel like it constantly had to be a competition between the two of them. It was exhausting.

After you were done in the shower with Suho, he dressed you in one of his shirts and tucked you into his bed. He quietly left you alone, but not before you made sure he wouldn't be too mad at his younger brother. You fell asleep relatively quickly.

You awoke a few hours later, and stayed in bed, thinking and contemplating about things, when you heard a knock at the door.

"Come in." You whispered. You were surprised to see Yixing standing in the doorway, a small smile on his face. "Hi Yixing." You say, confused.

"Hi Y/N. Look, I'm sorry to come here like this but I can see you're having a hard time and I've been doing some research and well.. I've found something you might be interested in seeing." He says, placing a book on your lap. "The Zutar Coven, they have a spell for Gemini Mates." He whispers, making sure no one else was at the door.

"What does it do?" You ask.

"As far as I know, it destroys the connection between mates, burns it. So you're able to only have one or none if you want" he says.

Destroy the connection? "Don't wolves die if their mate connections are destroyed?" You ask.

"Sometimes, but not all the time. I just thought you'd like to know." He says.

"Thanks Yixing, I appreciate it." You smile. You had quite a bit to think about.

Over the next few days, Yixing's words flooded your mind. You couldn't stop thinking about the opportunity that had fallen in your lap. Although you had no idea who you would choose if it came down to it, it didn't hurt to speak with the witches and gather some Intel in case you had decided you wanted to break a connection.

However, earlier in the day before the two of you were supposed to leave, you told Yixing you didn't want to go anymore. You had realized as much as you appreciated Yixing's efforts in trying to help, you wouldn't be able to choose. Yes they both may need to work on some things, but you did as well. You don't give up in a relationship when things get tough. You have to fight to make it work the way you all want it too and that's what the three of you needed to do. You all had things to change, but you wanted them both, forever.

Yixing didn't like that. He insisted that talking to the witches would be good for you, and that you had to do it. He scared you enough in that moment you had agreed.

You had only told one person where he was really taking you and that person was Baekhyun. Everyone else was under the impression Yixing was taking you out to get to know you better, including Suho and Sehun.

As Baekhyun sat at the table with Suho and Sehun, the guilt about where you truly went began eating away at him. Hearing them talk about how much they loved you and wanted you, made him feel like a terrible brother.

"I need to tell you something." Baekhyun huffed, slamming his hands down on the table.

"What?" They both asked in unison.

"Yixing didn't take her to bond. He took her to meet with the Zutar Coven to see about a connection breaking spell. She didn't want to go, he scared her but she thought it would be better to leave you two out of it." He yells, feeling relieved.

Sehun and Suho bolt from the table, busting through the door and phasing to their wolf forms, both knowing very well exactly where the coven resided.

"Yixing, I've changed my mind. I don't want to inquire about it. I want to stay with them both." You say, trying to get your arm out of Yixing's tight grip.

"Not your choice anymore." He spits. "He took away my brothers. I take away his mate." He mutters.

"What are you talking about?" You ask, still trying to get free.

"Just shut up." Yixing spits.

In your head, you beg and plead, hoping that somehow Suho or Sehun will hear you and save you.

A few hours later, you're panicking while bound to a tree and Yixing is bargaining with the witches. They don't want to do the spell without your consent, but Yixing has no issues doing whatever he needs to do to get them to do what he wants.

"I'll just fucking kill her then. How about that?" He snarls, stalking towards you, sharp teeth showing.

"Fine!" One younger one yells. "We'll do it." She says. "Which one needs the connection burned?"

"Suho." Yixing snaps.

"Why would you burn my connection, Yixing?" Suho asks, walking into the clearing with Sehun beside him. Instantly, you feel relieved.

"You know why!" Yixing yells. "You took my sweet Lexie away from me! And now I finally have a chance to burn your connection. Why wouldn't I?" He yells.

"I didn't take her away, Kris did. She was a wolf hunter Yixing, she was going to kill us all." Suho yells.

"No she wouldn't have. She loved me. And now I hope you'll rot watching the love of your life be happy with another man for as long as you live." Yixing growls. "Do it." He snaps at the witches.

No one moves.

"I said now!" Yixing yells.

"It won't happen, Yixing. Enough. I warned you about doing this shit. I told you I can't have someone in my pack who betrays his brothers. I won't do it, no matter who it is." Suho snarls.

"Ha, so what? You're kicking me out?" Yixing laughs.

"I am." Suho deadpans. "You can either leave now and take on being a Lone Wolf far from here, or Ill kill you, and I will kill you, Yixing, you don't fuck with what's mine. Your choice."

"I'll be seeing you." Yixing says, giving you a wink before disappearing into the forest. You knew in your gut this wouldn't be the last time you would run in with Yixing, but for now you were happy to be free.

On your way home with the two men you loved so much, you had reassured Sehun that you weren't going to leave him, despite his jealousy issues and you still loved him. You had spent a bit more time with him since it was your night with Suho again tonight but Sehun had always been that little bit of extra needy when it came to you.

That night as you lay in bed with Suho, your head on his chest, he sighs as he contemplates asking you a question. He's unsure if he wants to ask, knowing he might not like the answer you give him.

"Baby.." he begins.

"Mhm?" You respond, your eyes closed.

"If you had picked someone to burn the connection with.. who would it have been?" He asks.

You lay there for a second, quietly which makes Suho feel as though you're finding a polite way to say it was him.

"Honestly?" You ask.

"Yes." He says.

"I don't think I would have been able to choose. You both have things I would change and things that I wouldn't. But i don't think I could live without either of you." You smile.

Suho isn't sure about your answer, ever since he was little he's been fighting for attention and trying to be the best he could be without it ever going anywhere. He always seemed never good enough, never measuring up to his brother who would have made a better alpha, according to his father. He knew you deserved better than him, and Sehun would probably be the one who you would have chosen, but he's selfish. He needed you like he needed to breathe, so he would push himself to be the man you deserve even if it killed him, because you were worth it.

The next morning you watched Suho as he watched you running around the yard with Sehun. You can see on his face he's not alright, regardless if he tells you he's fine, you know better. You can see the look of regret, or maybe sadness in his wistful smile. Something that in the future, would reside permanently.

Later on, you sat at the kitchen table with Sehun and Suho, laughing at a lame joke Sehun had told. As you looked at your two mates, you couldn't hold back your smile. Regardless of the rough times the three of you had, you knew there would be good ones right around the corner and with that you knew you all could get through anything. You finally felt complete now that you were mated, if only that feeling would have lasted forever.

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