#wc: 2674

[nanaminsmoon]

jus noticed that geto has nothing… my man my man my man listen ik this trope has been done but hyperfem spoiled reader & plug geto 🫶🏾 or literally any trope i jus have geto brain rot rn -🪩

omg something must be in the air bc i've been feeling the exact same way i think the edits are getting to me😞

cw: plug!geto x spoiledblackfem!reader, pnv, unprotected sex, oral(m receiving), spit kink, geto calls reader; 'baby', cock warming for a lil bit at the end.

wc: 2674

given the duration of your relationship, geto knew you inside and out. reading your emotions only took a simple look, the easiest expressions to read being the ones you gave him when you wanted something. those were the behaviours he was most well-versed in; due to his laidback and lenient nature, geto gave you anything your pretty little heart desired. and his most regretful gift he had given you was making you aware of your power over him, and his bank account. because once it landed in your hands, you abused it. your tactics of choice were so overused, that they now seemed rehearsed. yet geto would give in every single time, because he enjoyed the ruse as much as you did. perhaps even more. he loved the way you were touchier than usual; the warmth of your skin bleeding into the delicacy of your actions. the fight to not be beguiled by you was futile, so he’d humour you until he physically couldn’t anymore.

like the time you had approached him from behind, taking a deep breath as you walked to where he was sat in the living room—his attention reserved for the weed and scales in front of him. panic about distracting him would be quashed when you’d notice his head looking up to the tv, as he laughed at whatever he was watching. and, well assimilated to your dynamic, you rarely got nervous about asking geto for stuff, but the price of this particular purchase had landed on your lungs harshly, pushing a hefty breath out of them. and you’d make a laughable attempt at calming yourself as you stalked over to him. geto’s ears would perk up at the light sound of footsteps and, eyes still glued to the screen, he’d turn his head. there’d be no need to turn fully because you’d soon be stood behind him, shimmery lips delicately landing on his cheeks a few times. but, after a few moments, he’d turn properly to meet them with his own.

affection wasn’t a rarity in your relationship, so nothing about your actions would be a cause for concern. even as your hands delicately landed on his bare shoulders, thumbs dissolving the tension in his muscles. geto would just shift to click his neck, before an approving groan would leave his lips. a part of you felt bad for using much-needed stress relief to coax your wishes out of him, but you had a girls trip the following week and this one bag completed one of your fits perfectly. so you’d press on,

“you’ve been sat here all day, pa, need me to cook you sumn?”, you’d ask, sweetly kissing his neck and the shell of his ear. geto’s silence would be unbroken as his only response would be a shake of his head, as he placed weed on his scale. it was like knowledge of your intentions was forcing him to be uncooperative. because it was; geto had caught on to the way you’d stopped taking your phone with you everywhere, instead leaving it unlocked in random places with the screen displaying a screenshot of the bag you wanted. he just wanted you to ask him directly, instead of beating around the bush.

and he’d get his straight forward approach, when his shoulders would be stripped of their relaxation and you’d move forward to backhug him instead. despite still being stood behind the sofa, you’d try to get as close as you could, planting slow kisses on his bare skin.

“so~”, you'd begin, tucking stray hairs behind his pierced ears. whatever geto was watching proved to be more interesting than you, because his focus wouldn’t waver. but he would offer you more of a response than before, in the form of a low hum moving past his lips as they held his blunt.

“hm”,

“well~there's this really pretty bag i saw, but it's so expensive.”, you’d mold your lips into the pout that always helped you get your way. yet, when you looked to gauge your boyfriend’s reaction, there seemingly wasn't one. but you wouldn’t let it discourage you,

“can you buy it for me please~?”, you pleaded, to no avail. not until the blunt between geto’s lips would be placed on his ash tray, his lips blowing smoke out his mouth once he did,

“first off, ‘f you wanna ask me for sumn then at least have the fucking decency to do it to my face”, he spat, and his reprimand would be cut short by your legs rushing to sit you on his lap. a faint smile would be sent your way as his hands moved to smooth over your thighs, before he'd ask,

“second, how much is it?”. money was no object to geto, but you’d always neglect to mention the prices of everything you asked for, or bought on his card. it was a purposeful decision, and it was always made to prevent trouble. but when he asked for it directly, you had no choice but to tell him.

“500…”, you'd say quietly, and geto would scoff in disbelief—both at the price, and at your sudden lack of confidence.

“dollars?”, he'd ask, and you'd nod meekly, avoiding eye contact, ”i asked you a question”, he said, and you'd huff dramatically in impatience .

“well yeah, what else would it be?”, you said with a tone far too agitated to be directed towards the man in front of you. immediately, geto's hand would lift to grab your jaw.

“watch that tone.”, he'd chide through gritted teeth.

“sorry”, you'd reply quietly, and geto's strengthened grip on your jaw would have your head moving backwards to look him directly in the eyes.

“how are you so loud when you want sumn, but so quiet when it's time to apologise?”, he'd shake your head, and your voice raised.

“well it ain't my fault your high ass can't fucking hear.”, that retort was far too quick, and you could see the surprise it caused written on geto's face. it was as if your mouth had gotten too comfortable and had forgotten who you were talking to. because, guiltily looking at him now, you could see that you'd fucked up. and geto knew too. that's why he'd smile at you, hand moving from your jaw to your neck before he'd say,

“and now my high ass ain't gettin’ you shit”.

low groans and cuss words would take turns leaving geto’s mouth as he leant back on the couch; one arm outstretched on the top of the cushions, and the other on the back of your head. his head would rest on his shoulder, as he guided you so you could take more of him. geto’s theory was that if your mouth was inadequate in the art of talking right, then he’d train it, to excellency, at another skill.

”you sound so much better—fuck—so much better when you're just gagging on dick”, he'd tease, looking down at the tears brimming in your eyes. they’d implore for him to pull you back, and he’d listen dutifully. he’d lean forward to pull you back up by your hair, maintaining a grip on it that allowed him to make you face him directly.

looking at the briny apologies threatening to roll onto your cheeks almost made his heart lurch, but the hardness between his legs needed tending to, so that almost wouldn't be enough to change his mind. so you'd be back on his dick immediately, and his helping hand wouldn't leave you; moving your hair out your face, stroking your cheek, and even reaching over to grab at the flesh spilling out of your shorts.

“i shoulda known that a girl with an ass like this would bring nothin’ but problems”, he'd sigh, reaching over to his blunt to take another hit. the smoke would pervade the air above you, as your mouth had geto leaning his head on the sofa. the curling of his toes, and growing strength in his hand contractions told him he was close.

“you're gonna take it all ain't you, baby?”, he'd look down at you, and you'd nod around his length, “my greedy girl. always so good f’r me—”, he’d said, pouting, but his taunts would be cut short by the feeling of his balls emptying into your mouth. once he’d come down from his high, geto would lean down to push the leaking nut, back into your mouth, tsking at you as he did so.

“such a messy girl”, he’d shake his head.

geto didn't even have the courtesy to take you to your bed. though well-mannered enough to help you rise to your feet, that’s the furthest his chivalry would extend. because, once he helped stripped you of your pyjamas, you were on all-fours on the couch—gripping onto the arm rests as his large hands pulled you onto his dick. one of them would move to wrap around your 40-inch bundles, reining you in any time you tried to run from the repercussions of your loose mouth. at this point, it seemed like the real punishment was taking him without any prior prep. because geto was blessed with both length and girth, so taking him was a challenge in itself. but it was a challenge that, stomach tightening, pleasure made very easy to accept. adjusting to his size wasn’t the only issue, there was also the fact that his thrusts resembled those of a man who was finally being given an outlet to express his hidden disdain. though they lit a fire inside you, that coursed through your veins, they tightened your hands’ grip on the armrest. this man was fucking you so hard you were convinced you’d break a nail. that'd bring you to a total of three, following the two you had broken while fucking the night before. even still, nothing could distract from the feeling of his hand in your hair,

“baby, my hair”, you moaned out, reaching to place a hand on the large one in your tresses.

“y’think i give a fuck? i paid for it ‘nd i'll do whatever i want to it”, would be geto’s only response, accompanied by his spiteful hand collecting more of your hair to pull you back. his other one would move to wrap around your throat, attaching your back to his chest.

“open.”, he’d instruct curtly, and you’d open you mouth for him to spit in it, before swallowing without further instruction.

“what’d i say about gratitude, baby? say ‘thank you’”, he kissed your neck, biting down on it when he realised that he’d fucked you out of coherent thought.

“th-thank you”, you said, aided by his thrusts knocking the words off your tongue to fill the space around you.

the feeling of your warmth enveloping his dick had stolen geto’s sight of why he was fucking you so harshly in the first place. so, after a little while, your forehead would be greeting a cushion as you keened a mix of geto’s name and pleas for him not to stop, into the fabric underneath you. the once pitiless hand in your hair had softened into a more romantic one—moving the dark brown tresses covering your back, so he could kiss affirmative words onto the expanse of it. geto could never stay mad at you for too long, that’s why you got everything you wanted; because he hated the feeling of anything that didn’t make you happy. that’s why when the feeling of you starting to contract around him would be joined by desperate whines, he’d lean forward to rub at your clit,

“baby, imma m-mess up the c-couch, wait”, your hands would reach to, barely, wrap around his forearm. but all the strength in your body was focused on tightening the knot in your stomach, so your grip would loosen with every movement of geto’s hips.

“you can make a mess, baby, it's okay”, he'd reassure. and his lips, dick, and fingers would work in tandem to feed you stimulation, until you felt your release wash over you. geto would feel it too, so he wouldn’t hush you, nor neglect you to chase his own end. he’d just keep giving you what you needed, and a little extra.

“i know, baby, i know”, geto reassured, as his lips left a trail of wet spots on your back, and shoulders.

geto’s astute eyes would watch the tension from your release simmer to settle, before he’d pull out of you to sit down on the couch. his pupils would be fixated on your face’s every micro-movement, studying you until they deemed you fit enough to take him again. that’s when he’d move you onto his lap, sliding you down onto his dick. seeing how he had fucked you senseless just a few minutes prior, geto wasn’t expecting you to be moving and bouncing on his dick the way you were. and, if he wasn’t so busy writhing underneath you, he would’ve been impressed.

since you were doing all the work, he’d reach over to take another hit from his blunt, making sure to not blow the smoke in your face once he faced you again. the look in your eyes as you kept them on his, pulled his hands from your thighs and hips, to the sides of your face as he kissed you messily.

“jus’ keep movin’ like that, baby, i’m almost there”, he said, against your lips. and, true to his word, you’d bounce on him one more time before his fingertips were digging into you to still you, so he could fill you with his nut. the position he had placed you in meant that the strained fruits of his vocal cords’ labour would be trickling into your ear as he came—vocal as always. the both of you would then sit, chests heaving in sync as you calmed yourselves down.

once calm and, quite frankly, tired as fuck, neither of you would be in any rush to move from your position. lifting off you him didn't seem beneficial to geto at that time, so he'd just keep you there and go about his business. your legs would remain wrapped around his waist as he'd lean to change the tv channel, and continue weighing the drugs on the table. in a weird way, being connected to you like that calmed him; it made him feel more productive in some odd, unexplainable way. and when he went to pick his blunt up for the nth time, a voice in his head would ask him to offer you a hit but, so sure he had heard your light snores as your chin rested on his shoulder, he decided against it. and, looking at you out the corner of his eye, it looked like your eyes were closed too. but the true test would be his following words,

“send me the link”, he said, and he’d almost choke on smoke as a laugh floated up his throat at your sudden alertness.

“for what?”, you said, moving your head back to look at his face.

“the bag, dickhead. you wan’ it or not?”, another chortle would resound when you'd lift yourself off geto, coercing winces and deep breaths from the both of you, to limp your way to your room to retrieve your phone.

©Rights owned by nanaminsmooninc. Do not repost without permission.

[edupunkn00b]

On a Butterfly's Wing, Ch. 13: Thanksgiving Break

Graphical representation of a Lorenz attractor, the pattern in chaos and "the butterfly effect."

Prev - Thanksgiving Break - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

WC: 2674 - Rated: T - CW: Quiet angst. It's what's never said out loud.

November played out in unexpected ways for Logan Croft and included a long conversation with his son, Remy.

As November crystalized into the winter holidays, time grew strange for Logan. Stranger, rather. By now he was almost accustomed to holding two or three or more versions of his days, of his world, in his head, sorting through alternative memories of how the previous day had turned out

Competing versions crowded together in his mind until he was no longer entirely sure which one was real.

Just after Halloween, though, the sudden return of Kelly's saccharine-sweet solicitousness broke through that confusion. In actions if not in words, it seemed he had been forgiven of the suspicions that had triggered their last argument. As they so often were, his memories of their fight were hazy, but the familiar pattern in her behavior was an easy anchor.

"Let's take a trip for Thanksgiving this year," she suddenly said over dinner, smiling at him over her half-empty wine glass. "How does that sound?"

"Wh—weren't—ah…" Logan stammered, her quickly smothered flash of annoyance pushing his gaze to Patton.

Patton looked back at him, still and silent, eyes cautious.

Squaring his shoulders, Logan met Kelly's eyes. She was smiling again. "Weren't you planning to visit your parents over the long weekend?"

Lips pinched, she waved her hand like she was dismissing a server and took a long draw on her glass, draining it. "There's been a change in plans." She poured herself more wine, gaze and attention fully consumed with the task. Quiet, she sipped her fresh glass before meeting his eyes again. "Wouldn't a trip together be fun?"

"I—Wel—well, yes, of course, Kels." Logan gulped his own water.

With the holiday only a week away, the family's Thanksgiving had already been planned. Kelly's parents were too unwell to travel or to host and she planned to visit with them over the long weekend. Virgil and Remy were coming down from Bellingham to stay at the house. He and the boys had planned a quiet-ish Thanksgiving break at home.

But Logan would be foolish to reject this obvious olive branch from his wife.

"I'll call the boys tonight and we can"—he nodded to Patton—"work out how best to pick them—"

"No, Logan," Kelly interrupted, stabbing the table between them. "No. Me and you going on a trip. It's been… years since you've taken me on a trip, just the two of us. We could make the drive out to Wolf's Head Lodge. Besides," she turned to Patton then, faded lipstick brightened with a stain of wine. "Wouldn't you have more fun with your brothers for the weekend?"

Patton's focus jumped from Logan to his mother, then back to Logan. He searched his eyes for the answer, head tilted to one side.

He seemed to find it.

"Virge has been saying he wanted to show me where he works," Patton nodded slowly, a smile painted on his face. While his words were addressed to Kelly, his eyes didn't leave Logan's. "Yeah, that sounds like it could be really cool. Then…" He finally looked again to his mother. "When you have to travel next month, Remy and Virge can still come down for Christmas break."

"That's settled then." Nodding, Kelly finished her second glass. "You'll book the room?" she asked. Without waiting for a response or even really looking at Logan, she rose from her seat, empty glass and the open bottle clutched delicately in one hand. "I've got a conference call with Tokyo," she said and shuffled upstairs.

As it turned out, Remy and Virgil were thrilled at the chance to show their little brother around Bellingham, excitedly mapping out the entire four-day weekend over their group chat minutes after Logan broke the news.

Patton chattered excitedly the entire drive up. They’d found a recycled craft store Remy’s roommate Emile was fond of—'obsessed with'—was the phrase Patton used, and they’d planned a walk through the old downtown on Saturday. The boys expected to get all their Christmas shopping done at the thrift and antique stores up and down the main stretch, an unsurprising passion for the two environmental science majors.

Patton’s excitement was infectious and by the time Logan had parked and followed him up the narrow stairs to his eldest son’s apartment, despite the tumult and the difficulty of the pre-Thanksgiving day traffic, he was grinning just as broadly.

In a flurry of hugs and laughter, Remy, Virgil, and Emile met them at the door. Logan toed off his shoes to help get Patton settled, the cheer of the boys' reunion warming him to his bones. It didn't take long and he was about to leave them to their adventure when Remy snagged his arm.

“Um, Dad? Do you… do you have a sec, well…” Toes turned in, Remy’s thumbs twisted in his belt loops and he shifted his weight from foot to foot. He chewed the inside of his lip and avoided Logan’s eyes the way he would as a tiny child, working up the courage to confess some wrongdoing.

“Of course,” Logan said and slipped his shoes back off. He was already packed for the trip and he and Kelly weren’t due to leave for Wolf’s Head until tomorrow morning, long after the boys would want him out of their hair tonight.

He had all the time in the world. Especially when Remy was looking at him like that.

Grinning, Patton sidled up between them and hooked one arm through each of theirs. “Why don’t we all sit down in the living room together?”

Logan raised an eyebrow at his youngest son but Patton gave no hints to what he obviously knew.

“Sounds good,” Logan nodded and reached across Patton to give Remy’s arm a little squeeze. “Whatever you need, Rem, we’ll figure it out together, okay?”

Unconvinced, Remy nodded back weakly.

Attention tuned into the rest of the boys’ little apartment as they moved to the cozy—if cramped—living room, Logan searched for any sign of what could be amiss in his son’s life. He wasn’t really sure what he was looking for—it was only in movies that people left out teetering stacks of opened bills stamped with ugly red OVERDUE notices across the top.

Their home was clean. The kitchen smelled like leftover pizza and Dawn dish soap. The water filter on the faucet glowed with two green lights; not freshly replaced for Patton’s visit, but not neglected, either.

School appeared to be going well, with well-read textbooks stacked on the kitchen table. A pair of laptops sat nearby, charging. They'd tacked a large school calendar on the wall, bearing cheerful reminders of exams and tuition dates. He smiled at the big happy face sketched over today’s date in honor of Patton’s arrival.

Everything appeared to be in order and well-handled, particularly for such young adults. Their apartment was hardly the chaotic site of some major catastrophe, nor was it the cluttered recluse of someone struggling through depression or other mental crises. Jaw tight, Logan looked closely at his eldest son.

Logan's own house appeared orderly, too.

He sat on the loveseat between Virgil and Patton, while Remy pulled up a fluffy ottoman and sat on half of it. Emile squeezed in next to him. Each sported freshly dyed hair, Remy’s black with a bright fuchsia streak, Emile’s pink with waving stripes of black.

Just like in his dream.

Logan looked between them, a relieved hope bright in his chest. Could this be as simple as Remy deciding to confess they were dating?

Remy hung his head and addressed the floor. “Dad… um…” Remy’s toes cracked as they scrunched against the carpet. “I’ve been keeping something from you. Something… big. Real big.” Logan shifted and Remy looked at him, both hands up in supplication. “Just… just hear me out, okay? I… We…” His mouth worked silently, hunting for words that wouldn’t seem to come.

The other boys remained silent, giving him space to speak. But each nodded encouragingly when he looked up. “I shoulda told you sooner, Dad, but…” His voice faded away again.

Logan leaned forward and cupped his cheek, just like he would when Remy was tiny and got lost in his thoughts. “Rem?” he murmured.

Probably only half aware he was even doing it, Remy tilted his head, leaning in to the touch.

Logan chuckled quietly at the feel of his firstborn’s stubbly jaw beneath his fingers. “You can tell me anything. You know that, right? Whatever this is.”

The nature of his work came together with the strength of Remy’s reluctance and Logan suddenly wondered if perhaps this confession genuinely was as fraught as Remy seemed to think it was. Perhaps he'd been overly optimistic in his assumption of what his son had to say.

Perhaps his son finding love had been nothing more than a dream.

“Rem,” Logan’s voice grew grave, possibilities racing through his mind. “Are you in trouble? Do you need an attorney?”

Remy huffed out a laugh at that and Patton leaned against Logan’s side with a giggle. “Nah,” Remy shook his head. “But Ro said you might ask that.”

“Ro?” Logan repeated, the name familiar and sweet and strange on his tongue. He shook his head. Remy couldn’t possibly mean Roman.

“Um, yeah.” Remy caught Emile’s eye, who just nodded at him to continue. He swallowed hard and looked back at Logan. “Y’remember, um, Mr. Prince? My… my old preschool teacher?”

Virgil smirked. “You mean the cute one you had a giant crush on.”

"No!" Remy and Logan said together. Remy had been louder and his response sparked a flurry of good-natured teasing from his younger brothers.

Logan’s cheeks warmed and he looked down at his own hands before clearing his throat. “I recall your preschool teacher,” he hedged, glancing at his sons to see if they’d heard him over Remy. He couldn’t tell if they had, and his gaze was drawn by the gentle squeeze Emile gave Remy’s hand.

Emile let go once he saw Logan was watching.

“I’d… “ Remy continued. “I’d been thinking about him a bit—“ Emile knocked their knees together with a crooked smile. “Okay, a lot recently. I… I looked him up.” He glanced up at Logan to see his reaction to that piece of information.

When Logan nodded, he went on. “Well, I… I called the school and his old theatre and… a couple other places I’ve seen him perform at and gave them all my number. Asked them to pass it on to him.” A pleased little smile spread across his face. “Ro called me a few days later. I… I was surprised he remembered me. He…” Remy’s voice got tight again and he shrugged. “He remembered you, too, I mean.” Remy smiled then, brow still crinkled. “He was pretty sure you’d be… cool, y’know? Said I didn’t need to worry about telling you. Just…”

“Just not Mom,” Virgil finished, jaw clenched.

“Yeah,” Remy nodded. “Not Mom. She can’t… You can’t share this with her, Dad.”

“Of course not.” The words came out before Logan could really think about it. He didn’t have to.

Nodding again, Remy took a deep breath and reached for Emile’s hand. He laced their fingers together then looked up and met Logan��s eyes. “Emile and I aren’t just roommates, Dad… We’re… we’re married.”

“Ma—married?” Logan’s mouth fell open, eyes dropping to their intertwined fingers. Emile wore an onyx band on his left hand but Remy's was bare.

Remy fished out a silver chain from under his collar and took it off. A pink quartz ring hung from it, spinning gently as he held it aloft.

Emile took it and, with practiced fingers, freed the ring from its chain and slipped it onto Remy’s hand.

Logan’s eyes burned. Married. He'd missed everything. He’d missed Remy’s first inklings of feelings for this man, he’d missed their entire courtship. He’d missed his proposal.

He’d missed his son's wedding.

He’d missed so much of his son’s new life because Remy couldn't trust him enough to share it with him. “You thought you had to hide from me,” he whispered slowly, struggling to breathe past the ache in his chest.

Patton rubbed his arm and Virgil shrugged next to him. “We all know what Mom would say.”

“I’ll deal with Mom.” Despite the war raging between his heart and his head, Logan managed to keep his voice steady.

“That’s what I said!” Patton cried, hugging Logan’s arm.

“Yeah, that’s what Ro said, too,” Remy nodded. He searched Logan’s eyes, squeezing Emile’s hand tight. “Are you okay with this, Dad?”

The fear in Remy’s eyes cut through Logan’s composure and his own eyes grew wet. “Of course I’m okay, Rem—More than okay! Congratulations!” He lurched forward, kneeling between the couch and the ottoman so he could pull both Remy and Emile into a hug. He sniffled and held them close. “I’m happy for you both. So, so happy for you,” he whispered. He held on for a long time before whispering, “I’m sorry I let you feel like you had to hide this. That you had to hide yourself.”

Remy didn’t say anything and just held his father tight. Logan hugged him back just as tightly, shoulder wet with his son’s tears.

~

Logan stayed at Remy and Emile's until well after dark, drinking coffee as the—somewhat—newlyweds shared photos and stories of last June's ceremony and all that had led up to to it. Eventually, though, it became time for Logan to drive back down.

He hugged each of his sons, smiling when Emile laughed and leapt into his arms when Logan turned to hug him, as well. “I knew Rem got his good heart from somewhere,” Emile whispered.

Logan didn't know what to say to that.

As the others busied themselves in the kitchen, he lingered in the hall with Remy. “Walk me to the car?” he asked, smiling gently at the worried pinch in Remy’s brow as he agreed.

“Be right back!” he called over his shoulder as Logan gave them all one more wave.

Father and son were quiet as they walked downstairs. It wasn’t until they got to Logan’s car that he gathered the courage to say what he needed. To ask what he needed.

“Are you… Is Emile…” Logan massaged his right hand, the cold, wet November weather delivering a fresh ache to the old injury. “Is he good to you?” he finally asked.

A soft, sad smile stretched across Remy’s face and he nodded. “The best, Dad. He’s not—“ Jaw snapped shut, he inhaled sharply and nodded again. “Emi's really good to me. And I’m good to him.” A gust of wind coming up off the bay pushed his hair into his face, a riot of pink and black and Remy chuckled, brushing it away. “We take care of each other.”

Pulling Remy close for one more hug, Logan nodded. “Just how it should be.”

Remy went quiet, then nodded against his shoulder, hugging him back fiercely. “Yeah,” he finally whispered.

The sea-scented wind cut through the trees again and he shivered.

“You should probably head back in,” Logan said at last, giving him one more squeeze before letting him go.

“Yeah,” Remy said again with another shiver. “Drive safe, Dad,” he added as Logan climbed inside for the trek back down I-5.

“Always.” Logan smiled and then turned on the engine. He watched Remy dash back inside, catching a bit of movement through the front window when Remy made it back inside his—and his husband’s—apartment.

They were so damn young, Logan thought as he pulled out onto the quiet street. As he drove, he did the math… Remy and Emile were young but Remy was now slightly older than he himself had been when he not only became a husband but a father.

Drawing in a deep breath, Logan turned on the radio. He switched stations until music poured from the car speakers and washed away the rocky path his thoughts tried to follow.

[i-am-church-the-cat]

you can always go home again (or for the first time)

This is my fic for the Andi Mack gift exchange! This is for @paracosmicat, I'm so sorry that it's late, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Summary: She ruffles his hair as she leads the way back through the apartment. It’s small and crowded with trinkets, books and shoes, basketballs and art projects, and something that must have exploded from the kitchen. Three more people are waiting for them in the living room, less than T.J. expected from the level of noise he’d heard. “Hey guys, this is T.J., the dude I was telling you about,” Jonah introduces him to the group at large and he offers a small wave. “T.J., this is Andi, Cyrus, and Marty.” WC: 2674 Pairing: Gen mostly, but with pre-relationship Tyrus and minor Amris Tags: College AU, First Meetings, T.J. POV, Amber and T.J. are siblings Rating: Teen

---

He knew it was saving him money, but sometimes living with his sister and her girlfriend could be really annoying. T.J. had been trapped in his room for ages, Amber and Iris having fought and made up over the past several hours, both things he would rather not be witness to. At this rate, he was going to be locked in here until graduation. 

Jonah 

Hey man, you looking to hang tonight?

Something like relief passes through T.J. when he gets the message. He and Jonah aren’t the closest of friends, yet. They hadn’t gotten along when Jonah was dating his sister - between the compulsory heterosexuality and Jonah’s constant avoidance of anything even hinting at romantic in nature, it had been hell from start to finish - but since they were both studying kinesiology, they’d tried to be friendly. Today, that work had finally paid off.

T.J.

Yeah man, what were you thinking?

Jonah

Some of my friends are holding a get together at their apartment, just a small thing. You wanna come?

Another noise came from the living room. T.J. didn’t want to know if it was a yell or a moan. 

T.J.

Send me the address, im omw

Since the path to the front door was locked, T.J. used the fire escape by his window. It dropped him right next to the motorcycle he probably shouldn’t be parking in the back alley. But hey, it hadn’t been stolen yet, and it made for a very quick getaway. T.J. set his phone to give him voice directions to the address Jonah texts him and then he’s off. 

--

The apartment building is nice, an artist-y co-op on the west side of town. T.J. heads up to the third floor after texting Jonah again for the apartment number - Beck wasn’t always the most aware person. Both the bike ride and the jog up the steps do a lot for getting T.J. in a better headspace than he was in earlier. 

He hears the apartment before he sees it. Jonah said it was just a small get together, but from the noise coming through the door, T.J. has some serious doubts. He considers bailing before remembering what’s going on at his own apartment and knocking on the door. 

Surprisingly, it’s not Jonah who answers. It’s a girl with tight braids and wearing a Utah Jazz jersey. She looks like someone he should know, but it slips his mind. She looks him over and must find him wanting because her expression is thoroughly unimpressed. 

“Can I help you?”

“Um, hi,” T.J. says, trying for a smile and probably failing short. “I’m looking for-”

“Oh, Buffy is that T.J.?” A thankfully familiar voice comes from inside the apartment. Jonah Beck pops his head around the girl - Buffy’s - shoulder and flashes his big signature smile. “Teej, glad you could make it! Come in, come in.”

“Just inviting people into my home now, Beck?” Buffy asks, clearly not amused, but she steps aside with a nod to T.J. He nods back, figuring it’s the best course of action, and he’s rewarded with Buffy’s expression going a little less intense and a little more accepting. 

“Oh, yeah, sorry Buffy.” Jonah’s apologetic grin is too cute for anyone, even Buffy, to hold a grudge against. She ruffles his hair as she leads the way back through the apartment. It’s small and crowded with trinkets, books and shoes, basketballs and art projects, and something that must have exploded from the kitchen. Three more people are waiting for them in the living room, less than T.J. expected from the level of noise he’d heard.

“Hey guys, this is T.J., the dude I was telling you about,” Jonah introduces him to the group at large and he offers a small wave. “T.J., this is Andi, Cyrus, and Marty.”

T.J. opens his mouth to greet the group but the guy he’d thought looked familiar beats him to it. Marty hops up, big grin on his face as he offers up his hand for T.J. to slap.

“Hey, Kippen right? Aren’t you the new freshman starter for the basketball team?”

T.J. grins but can’t help the flush that takes his face. He’s proud of himself, yeah, but he finds it’s not always the best to introduce himself with his sporting career. It hasn’t always worked out the best in the past, which was mainly his fault to be fair. He hadn’t been a nice person on the court when he was younger.

“Yeah, I remember you from tryouts. You’ve got a great three-pointer, man.”

“Oh god, Jonah don’t tell me you brought another jock,” whines the other girl in the apartment, an Asian girl with short hair and paint on her t-shirt. “Now Cyrus and I are outnumbered 2-to-1.”

“I also invited Walker and Libby, but they both had things,” Jonah tries to defend himself, flopping down on the floor and grabbing a handful of popcorn from that half-empty bowl on teh coffee table. “It’s not my fault T.J.’s the only one free enough to join us.”

“I’m not totally sure if that’s an insult or not,” T.J. admits, looking around for space to sit. Andi and Buffy are sitting on the couch, Marty going back to sit in the third seat. Jonah’s on the floor. The only seat left is the loveseat, next to the only person here who’s voice T.J. hasn’t heard yet. 

“Hi,” he greets, moving towards the other boy. “I’m T.J. Can I sit?”

The brown-haired boy has big eyes that seem to suck all the air out of the room. Either someone just started hitting a bass drum, or T.J. could hear his heartbeat in his ears. Soft freckles dusted the boy’s nose and his pink lips had teeth indentations in them, as if he’d been biting them only seconds before. Those same lips lift into a smile, crinkly his Bambi eyes at the edges. 

“Sure,” the angel fairy boy said. “I’m Cyrus.”

“T.J.,” he mumbles, sitting down on the cushion. The other boy’s eyes fill with mirth.

“You said that already.”

“Right.” T.J. blinks, wondering it this is what deer felt when they get stuck in headlights. “Sorry.”

Cyrus is clearly laughing at him but he has the decency not to show it. Instead, he leans forward and grabs something off of the pile of snacks on the coffee table. 

“Muffin? It’s chocolate chocolate chip.”

“Oh.” T.J. looks down at the muffin in surprise. It’s big and rich and somehow exactly what T.J. needs. His stomach growls in appreciation as he takes the treat in gentle hands. “Thank you, these are actually my favorite.”

Cyrus’s eyes twinkle. “Mine, too,” he says, grabbing another one and holding it out to cheers against T.J.’s own. T.J.’s grin is huge at the simple gesture. 

“So, T.J.” The voice draws the two out of the little bubble they had gotten sucked in so quickly. T.J. turns to Buffy while his fingers tear off a bit of muffin and pop it in his mouth. “What do the T and the J stand for?”

He snorts, used to this line of questioning. T.J. leans back in his seat, one arm going across the back of the couch. He doesn’t the notice the way Cyrus looks at the arm in surprise, face going slightly red. 

“Sorry, but that’s highly privileged information. Only four people on Earth know it.”

Marty leans forward with eager eyes. “Is it really that bad?”

T.J.’s face and voice are deadpan when he says, “Worse.”

“Amber told me it changes every month,” Jonah says from his spot on the floor. 

“Oh wait, are you Amber’s brother?” Andi says, eyes going wide in recognition. Shoot. If she knows his sister this could either be really bad or… nah, just really bad. His sister’s kind of a dick. 

“Yeah, younger, by two years.” 

“How come we never met you when she and Jonah were dating?” Buffy asks. The way she’s looking at him is different now but T.J. can’t tell if it’s better or worse. “We met Iris.”

“And she was so nice, though obviously in love with Amber,” Cyrus says. This gets sounds of affirmation from all except Jonah who shrugs. 

“I never saw it.”

“You never see it,” Andi, Buffy, and Cyrus all chorus back at him, different levels of fondness or exasperation. T.J. wonders what the story is there. Though, if it’s anything like the one he heard from Amber, he can probably guess.

“They’re actually dating now,” T.J. says, hoping to steer the conversation away from his and Amber’s relationship. He loves his sister, and even likes her these days, but that wasn’t always the truth. “They were roommates and finally admitted their feelings. When Iris moved out of her room, they had an extra, so I moved into their place when I went to college.”

Andi is nodding. “That’s smart. Cyrus, Buffy, and I all the split the rent here and we’re still eating mostly junk food we get on sale.”

“The stipend they give us on sports scholarship is not enough,” Buffy sighs and T.J. can commiserate with that. He holds up his half-eaten muffin in a toast. 

“Hey, at least you and Cyrus are on scholarship,” Andi pouts. “Liberal arts college is the worst financial decision I’ve ever made.” 

“But it’ll all even out when you’re a world famous artist and we can fly out to France to see your new art gallery in the Louvre,” Cyrus encourages in a way that feels more sincere than most. 

“Yeah, and you can represent Jonah when he gets sued for what he’s done to his apartment,” Marty snickers.

Jonah kicks up a fuss and the others fall into bickering over something T.J. clearly does not have enough information on. Instead, he turns his attention back to Cyrus, where it had been threatening to float all evening. 

“You’re going to college to be a lawyer?” He asks, taking a bite of his muffin. Cyrus turns to him as if surprised to be T.J.’s focus once again. 

“Yeah! A civil rights lawyer, though, not a defense attorney.”

“That’s really cool.” He hoped he sounded as sincere as Cyrus had earlier, cause it’s true. T.J. wished he had a career path that was at least half as good for the world as Cyrus’s. He was only studying kinesiology because it’s what a bunch of student athletes did and his parents wanted him to have something to fall back on. He wasn’t going to be changing the world anytime soon.

Cyrus shrugs and blushes, ducking his head. He’s clearly not used to taking compliments which is a shame because they’re filling T.J.’s head like helium in a balloon. One poke and they’ll all come spilling out. 

“Yeah, well, it was either that or become a psychologist. All four of my parents are psychologists.”

“Four?”

“Mom, dad, step-mom, and step-dad,” Cyrus says with a shrug. This topic of conversation he’s far too used to. “You know how it goes.”

“Nah, actually,” T.J. glances away for a second before back to Cyrus. “My parents are the kind that should’ve split up but never did. It kind of left a bad mark on Amber and I’s relationship with them, and each other.”

Cyrus looks up at him curiously. He’s curled towards him, leaning against the back of the loveseat and subsequently propping his head up on T.J.’s arm. The weight is nice, grounding.

“Is that why we’ve never met you before?”

“Yeah,” T.J. admits. It feels safer to tell Cyrus here, where they’re practically alone, instead of to the whole group. “I left to live with my grandparents in high school. The distance helped Amber and I a lot.”

“I’m glad.” Cyrus smiles up at him. “I don’t have any siblings but Buffy and Andi are basically like my sisters. We’ve been best friends for as long as I can remember.”

T.J. smiles, feelings bittersweet. “I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone like that.”

Cyrus considers him quietly. His face is serious and strangely more confident than it had been when their conversation began. “You should.”

They fall into silence then, just observing each other, gathering their thoughts and basking in the feeling their bubble had created. T.J. was still impressed by how quickly Cyrus had sucked him in. There was just something about the young man that felt authentic and calming, like everything was going to be okay. It’s a feeling T.J. has rarely ever felt in his life.

“You know, you’re weirdly easy to talk to.”

Cyrus smiles, teasing. “It’s the four therapists as parents. You get used to listening.” 

--

Cyrus and T.J. don’t have an opportunity to be quiet together for the rest of the night. Once the other’s finished bickering, they drew the two into a game of Trivial Pursuit, and then Truth or Dare, and then Charades, which T.J. and Buffy weirdly dominated at, to Marty and Jonah’s chagrin. By the end of the night, T.J. was exhausted but happy. He’d left the house to escape the private going ons of his sister and her girlfriend and ended up meeting people he’d never believe he felt so at home with. The way they opened up and welcomed him in felt amazing, like nothing he’d ever experienced.

“It’s a great feeling, right?” Marty had said, halfway through the night, when they’d both stepped into the kitchen to grab a drink. “Andi, Buffy, and Cyrus have always been this trio. It should feel like an impenetrable wall to cross but they always open up and offer space to anyone who needs it. Jonah and I in middle school, Walker and Libby in high school, and now you.” 

T.J. had blinked in surprise, looking back out to the living room. The three roommates were doing weird poses, trying to convince the others they were real formations used in yoga, or just trying to make the other two laugh. He watches with a warm feeling in his stomach as Cyrus laughs so much he topples out of the position he was in, sprawling across the carpeted floor. 

“Can it really be that easy?”

Marty had shrugged and given him a welcoming smile. A beckoning smile. “Only if you let it be.” 

And T.J. was going to let it be. He wasn’t going to question the new familiarity between himself and these people. He was just going to accept it and holds on as long as he could. By the time he left, he had four new numbers in his phone. When he got home, there was a text from one of them. 

Buffy the Basketball Slayer

You better ask Cyrus out soon

He’s not known for making the first move and I can not handle three months of pining

Hop on it Kippen

T.J. grinned. He sent back a thumbs up emoji before pulling down the fire escape. He stumbles through his window and onto his bed, feeling dazed from both the climb and the night he had.

“Hvae fun?” Amber asks from the open doorway. That had definitely been closed when he left, but T.J.’s proud of the fact he didn’t startle at her sudden appearance. 

“Yeah.” He knows he’s grinning like a madman but he just can’t help it. 

“Good,” his sister says. She ruffles his hair, blonde matching her own. “Good night, little bro.”

“Night,” he calls as she exits the room. He sits up a little to make his next words heard. “Good night to you, too, Iris!”

There’s a pause, then, “Good night, T.J.! Sweet dreams!”

And well. There’s no doubt that they will be.

[rkkyul]

190801 MGA SEASON 5 + EPISODE FIVE +  #5050 FEATURING : TEAM KT  ⟨ ━━ ❀ ° PART ONE: PERFORMANCE, LION HEART + I GOT A BOY ( LINES / SONG ) ⟩

it hits her all at once, the overwhelming emotions trapping her before swallowing her whole. she’s going through the motions - watching heejin and minho rise from their seat beside her as their names are called, numbly following them up onstage. kyulkyung isn’t sure she’s breathing air, mouth opening in surprise and eyes widening as her teammates lead the way. perhaps her reaction is a bit dramatic, but oh is it genuine. 

the whole experience was so surreal - to even be considered for the top performance of the week when she had failed to do so the entire show. kyulkyung was tired of being average, of resting on that safe middle ground between being the best and the worst. average. want an ugly word. their names weren’t called when the top performance was announced, but she was too high in the clouds to notice - hand clasped tightly around heejin’s as they awaited the announcement. was it disappointing? maybe a little, but to finally be at the point was certainly an ego boost. 

semi finalist. 

the words were strange to her. the woman who had allowed herself to persuaded into something she once found silly was now officially a semi finalist for the mga’s fifth season. oh, she couldn’t wait to tell her mom. 

her heart was still racing when the trio once again returned to their seats, following throughout the hug minho gave them - adrenaline coursing through every part of her being as the show went on without her. kyulkyung listened, watched more talented performers leave them and she wondered how she had even managed to make it this far. she didn’t doubt her worth or talent, just wondered what happened to suddenly have luck on her side. 

after the disaster that was 2018, the woman entertained the idea of this just being some cruel joke. zhou jieqiong? making it this far on her own? joonho would’ve laughed in her face. but she tried to not think about that.

she’s slapped back into reality when the contestants suddenly awake with life, their bodies moving in shock and excitement rising in hushed tones. moving her eyes from where they stayed fixated on her shoes, they follow the movements of the new appearances on stage

from sphere entertainment, please welcome CONVEX’s very own JINKI and JINWOOK, as well as our star trainee and winner of the last season of the MGAs, GO HOJUNG!

her ears hang tightly onto the world CONVEX, hoping a familiar someone’s name will follow but much to her disappointment, she’s left with unfamiliar faces and dismay. but she perks up, attentive in her seat as she patiently awaits the coaches from TRC to be announced. JINSOUL - kyulkyung can’t help the tiny noise that passes her lips, excitement enveloping her entire form when she lays eyes on her best friend. “hey, that’s my best friend!” she attempts to whisper to minho and heejin - practically shaking in her seat and definitely way too excited.

i can’t believe she didn’t tell me, despite her thoughts, kyulkyung grins anyway. her anticipation only grows as time passes. please let me get onto trc’s team. please. please. please.

and no, not just because that would mean jinsoul gets to coach her.

she’s just a tiny bit disappointment when the TRC group announcement rolls around and her name is passed up. just the tiniest bit. however, this is short lived when her name is revealed under KT. the company is a bit surprising, solely for the fact that she wouldn’t have chosen it for herself. out of everything, she was expecting nova the most. but getting picked to perform in a group for a company run by katie lee, that’s pretty amazing. 

                                                                     ❀

"semi finalist? oh, god i can’t believe.” yea, she can’t either.

kyulkyung laughs at her mother’s enthusiasm over the phone - feeling her cheeks grow hot at the woman’s constant, unrelenting praises. it’s nice to hear the complements and she allows her ego to inflate with each syllable. her mother always complemented her, but it was nice to hear something the woman herself could also feel proud of.

the mgas were different than anything else she had done in life. there was no reliance on anything other than what her talent alone had to offer. there was no behind-the-scenes magic that needed to worked, no amount of bills slipped under the table and secrets to be kept. the fact made her prideful if anything.

after last year, it seemed as if everything wrong she had done had constantly stayed on her back - a quiet monster, the chill that ran down her spine and kept her awake at night. it was hard to put it past her, but somehow she had managed to tuck it away far enough, bury it so deep within that it never even became an afterthought. the process took time and trust, especially with her mother who felt almost as guilty as her.

“you know after last year, i worried about you. i felt like i set a back example.” kyulkyung clenched the phone pressed against her ear tightly in her grasp, fighting back whatever emotions spewed up. biting down on her lip, the woman pushed through whatever words left her mother’s mouth through the phone. perhaps the worst part about the whole situation was that her mother felt responsible, took on her daughter’s worries and that was not okay. 

the woman’s voice is strained through the phone and she fears she’s holding back tears. “but i’m proud of you, for doing something and making it this far. i really hope you make it this week, jie.” me too, mom. she answers, burring herself further beneath the sheets - feeling the dull ache of attachment to the woman who can only speak to her through a phone or stupid screen.

“i wasn’t going to tell you this in case it jinxed you this thursday but chun and i are coming in next week - just in time for the finals. he has a business down there, but i figured i’d tag along just to see my girl.” and lying in her bed that night, phone tucked between her ear and pillow, making it to the finals next week meant so much more to her.

                                                                     ❀

once again,the week goes by rather smoothly with her teammates. except for the fact that they are busy, busy, busy.

the coaches and teammates are alike in the ways that they are helpful to a girl with minimal singing experience. and lucky for kyulkyung, this week she’s in a room full of incredible talents. of course yukhei and her scream over each other their first meeting, having only spoke to the boy over suwoong’s phone a few episodes ago and having got along pretty well. he’s just as fun as the woman expected and paired with talent to combat his upbeat nature. 

the girl known for her singing and musical talents, yuri is just as amazing to work with as she expected. their team is full of power vocals, yuri and sia bringing enough to the table and offering whatever tips they had to ever so curious kyulkyung. “c’mon please... think of me please?” she begs yuri to sing such an iconic song - phantom of the opera being a personal favorite of the woman. she could never get enough of the tragic story that was erik and christine. ugh, it made her cry every time.

“i’d say i’d help sing it, but that’s a disgrace to phantom of the opera. it’s a sin.” kyulkyung pulls a hand to her chest, bowing her head in sadness before shaking her head at the thought. yuri is the only one who could do it justice while she couldn’t bare the embarrassment for herself.

kyulkyung’s delighted witrh yuri’s compliance, elated to hear one of the songs from her favorite musical from personally one of her favorites on the show. before being teamed up together, the woman had always admired her from afar - completely losing herself in her voice and loving every moment of it. just as expected, yuri’s voice complements the song nicely and she can’t help the long drawl she lets out, pressing a hand against her heart and swaying ever so dramatically to the tone of the other’s voice. 

all shenanigans aside, the woman found herself in a situation that left her bewildered. she didn’t mind to help usually, but sia’s call for help left her a bit nervous. kyulkyung didn’t have experience with cutting or mixing music, but the other girl needed help and who was she to refuse? “i don’t care to, but you’ll have to lead the way some.” the woman admitted with a tiny smile, eager to help out in any way that she can. 

the process wasn’t too difficult, but it was a process. creating the choreography with nakyung for the dance break wasn’t nearly as hard as creating the mix, but eventually they got it done ( and kyulkyung was there to offer any extra help whenever someone needed it ). the fact that they had managed to pull it off was extremely exciting for the woman, even going as far as to do a mini celebration dance whenever they finished it. yes, she was embarrassed with herself afterwards but damn was she proud. 

turns out she’ll be heading back to hook & crook after the show with a little bit more than dance and performance tips.

                                                                       ❀

thursday approaches quickly and this time, kyulkyung’s a bit nervous when she climbs onstage. the semi finals held a lot of more meaning than the other performances and after being in the top 3 last week, she’s sure there’s an expectancy for both her and her team. in fact, the entirety of team kt had at least one episode’s worth of top 3 experience under their belt and it makes her wonder if they’ll be watched that much closer. 

her hair, now faded a bit after a few washes, hangs loosely atop her head - the white nature of her top and shorts a contrast to the red bandanna that’s tied around her thigh. she’s standing on stage with her team, head held high and signature smile wide despite the nerves that light up when the judges and eyes of their first live audience lays upon them. “hello! we are FOH!CUS.” the team greets before being met with the thunderous clap of applause.

the noise is enough to brighten her smile and settle whatever negative emotions she felt. kyulkyung did not get stage fright, well not anymore at least. the eyes of an audience was not foreign to her especially after her time with knb. it was all just noise to her, eager eyes there to watch them perform and their entertainment for the night. they’d give them a show worth while, especially with all the pretty faces and power vocals up there. 

in the most arrogant way possible, kyulkyung thought team FOH!CUS was hard to forget. 

“hello! constant #5050, zhou jieqiong here again!” she will never forget that tiny bit of chinese at the beginning of her introduction - not until the very end ( it’s kind of a habit at this point, honestly ).

as the group arranges themselves for the beginning of the performace, yuri finds herself in the center - surrounded by her teammates and introducing the audience to chi chi’s lion heart. the vocals are soft as are their movements, the singer’s tone and charisma alone enough to draw attention and set the mood of their performance. kyulkyung’s sure the audience’s heart fluttered just a little as did hers when she heard yuri sing the song for the first time.

ah 넌 달라진 게 없어 여전해 난 애가 타고 또 타 사냥감 찾아 한눈파는 너

kyulkyung’s voice follow’s the other girl’s smoothly, a nice transition into her sweet tone and flowing nicely with the music. luckily for her, the movements during this part are minimal for her at least - allowing her voice to carry unfaltering and comfortably. singing live was something she worried a lot about, but with tips and a lot of help, her confidence grew little by little. her smile is delicate upon her lips, her legs carrying her into the next series of moments as they draw into the chorus.

chi chi’s choreography isn’t hard to follow, but it’s nice and fun to watch. the song and melody allows for an easy smile from kyulkyung, putting on an image of a girl in love and innocence. their movements and choreography are soft and flows nicely against the music, but that makes it so much better when the shock of their transition settles in.

lion heart suddenly comes to a halt and everyone is moving into new position - a new light overwhelming them as the beat changes entirely. the mix that kyulkyung and sia put together takes over the stage, the group moving in sync with one another in a way contrasting themselves just a few moments prior.

nakyung and kyulkyung were responsible for creating the choreography, transitioning them into the beginning of i got a boy and creating a whole new mood for their stage. the woman’s presence changes drastically, a more coy, cheerful look overtaking her frame as the upbeat tone of the music sounds. personally, she prefers songs like this to lion heart - feeling more like herself with peppy beats and modern lyrics. hahaha! eh let me introduce myself - kyulkyung points to yukhei as speaks,  here comes trouble, whoo! there’s a playful grin on her lips as she moves - raising a hand to motion a ‘come here’ movement with her fingers, 따라해.

어떨 땐 오빠처럼 듬직하지만 애교를 부릴 땐 넘 예뻐 죽겠어

preparing for their performance was once again fun for the woman - this being what she looked forward to most when she joined the competition. and honestly speaking, kyulkyung learned a lot more than she thought she would. working with people was one thing especially on a show like the mgas, the fierce nature of the competition threatening to bring out the worst in people but so far, that hadn’t been the case ( at least for her ).

the way they move alongside one another on stage is exciting - no doubt a visual and talent overload for their audience and she wonders if this what being an idol felt like. and if that’s case, it makes her want that contract even more.

making it this far was exciting, but left her greedy more than ever. there was a lot pending on today’s performance, on her advancement into the competition that she undermined completely. coming in with no expectations and following through with nothing but the highest, that was surely a shock. but not only did she want a contract presented to her in the end, kyulkyung would also love for her mother to at least see her perform once. 

귀 기울여 주는 너 너

her mother’s words drive her confidence, fuel the endless stream of energy that courses through her as they near the end of their performance. kyulkyung didn’t have a lot of lines, but she didn’t asked for many - leaving the singing up to the professionals and taking as many notes as she could. the coaches and her teammates helped equally and she matched their drive with one of her own, practicing up until the very last moment because she didn’t need the embarrassment up on stage.

she’s not as perfect as she’d like to be, but she knew what she had to work with and milked it for its worth. what she lacked in singing she made up with her dancing and countless expressions, enjoying every minute she was up on that stage. 

as the performance neared its end, kyulkyung couldn’t help the bottomless pit of worry that began to sizzle deep within her stomach. no matter how good they did or how much the crowd loved their performance, one of her teammates would be going home. 

it hurt to think about, but she supposed that’s just the nature of a competition and she’ll do anything in her power to make sure that person isn’t her.

[usafphantom2]

Jun Oizumi

Boeing WC-135B, 61-2674

[usafphantom2]

USAF 56 WRS Boieng WC-135B 61-2674 (1975)