#It's so funny I had a call center type job why did I do that

[peachssodapop]

It's been months I'm never going to recover

#my art #number one nightmare scenario was so scared that's genuinely what my customer service voice sounds like #but tried telling myself certainly even if it's true no one will say it #and then it fucking happened #It's so funny I had a call center type job why did I do that

[pixxyofice]

🏰 cursinguponcastles

of course i manage to grab everything EXCEPT for my anxiety medications. they're still stuck there!! in the House!!! every night I worry my friends are going to leave me for asking them to come along and some part of my brain is like "you wouldn't be worrying if you had taken your meds" and I have to then tell my brain the meds. ARE NOT WITH ME!!!

(this post is unrebloggable.)

-

(anon) asked:

plum? how have you been running this blog without anxiety meds?

🏰 cursinguponcastles replied:

Um! How did you know I didn't have my anxiety meds??

-

(anon) asked:

Don't the Houses keep stuff, like, forever? I'm sure if you go back to that House you'll be able to get your meds back. Unless it's like, frozen or something?

🏰 cursinguponcastles replied:

Oh. Ohhhh. Well, um! I am going back to get them! They're back in Dormont! I just won't be focused on getting my meds when I'm there, you know??

-

🎗 ribbpeat reblogged from 🍑 yetanotherfinepeach

🍑 yetanotherfinepeach

so was anyone going to tell me the savior of vaugarde runs a horror blog account or was I supposed to just find that out from her APPARENTLY LEAVING HER MEDS IN THE CENTER FREEZING POINT

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🍙 chateau-riceballs reblogged from 🧦 socks-to-be

🍯 lovelyhoney-truths

and just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, the savior of vaugarde turns out to be a tumblr user

🛴 offowchmy-nkee

and this is bad... how?

🍯 lovelyhoney-truths

How is this not obvious to you people? She's on tumblr. She's been ACTIVE. Instead of doing her job of saving us she's been giggling about her little vaugarde boys getting eaten. I'm sitting here typing with one arm waiting for vaugarde to be saved, and she's wasting time reading. Boo-hoo she left her anxiety meds in the House where the King is freezing all of us from. Actually, wait! Why didn't she just turn around and take him out? If she's supposed to save vaugarde, assigned to, and she was close to its starting point, why the hell did she walk the other direction and faff about?! Some Savior she is! Most of the country is frozen because of her! And instead of just shutting up and doing her job she went on a funny little pilgrimage. I'm not calling her a Savior anymore. 

🐱 ChangeGirlClaws

do you know about the existence of paragraph breaks. Like at all.

🎀 darts-chatting-blogg

Instead of looking at... all of that, apparently not everybody knows this so look at this.

THE DOORS OF DORMONT GOT LOCKED BY THE KING AND THE SAVIORS HAVE TO FIND FIVE ORBS TO BE ABLE TO EVEN TRY TO SAVE US. And in case you don't know, Vaugarde is huge! The saviors passed by my place a week ago and they only had four Orbs then.

I think Plum and her friends are making good progress, actually! I think she's allowed to relieve stress by reading about guts and gore, actually.

🍙 chateau-riceballs

she's what

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🐝 finalgirl-standing reblogged from 🐮 The-Cointry-of-Voigarde

🍯 lovelyhoney-truths

Not only does that orb bullshit sound made up and stupid, but apparently Plum also runs a guts and gore blog??? what the fuck is wrong with her. Has she Changed to be so disgusting when she should be Changing herself to be able to save the country?? Do you guys really believe that shit? I haven't heard of a House where Orbs lock the gates, that's clearly her making up excuses for why she can't just go there and beat him. How can her friends stand to be with her when she's this irresponsible?

🎀 darts-chatting-blogg

One. The King warped the place (see image here!) and Dormont was known for experimenting with locks. People just be saying crab, I guess.

Two. Defenders. Get their asses. I'll start.

C

🎗 ribbpeat

R

🍑 yetanotherfinepeach

A

🛴 offowchmy-nkee

B

🐱 ChangeGirlClaws

P

🍙 chateau-riceballs

O

🦴 justanotherchange-blog

W

⚓️ insertcreativebloghere

P

🧦 socks-to-be

E

🐮 The-Cointry-of-Voigarde

N

🐝 finalgirl-standing

I

(this post is unrebloggable.)

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⚓️ insertcreativebloghere reblogged from 🦴 justanotherchange-blog

🦴 justanotherchange-blog

if I was on a journey to save the country and I forgot my focusing meds at home I would just forget everything. Honestly, Plum's doing much better than I am???

⚓️ insertcreativebloghere

If i had to save the country without my meds i would've thrown myself into the sea

-

🐮 The-Cointry-of-Voigarde

(a picture of the countryside. Half of it is frozen, and the other half isn't)

Well. It was an honor, everyone. I'm glad to have contributed to the crab pow.

-

🏰 cursinguponcastles reblogged 🐧 penguin-do-be-writing

🐧 penguin-do-be-writing

hi everyone, sorry for the silence! My family has been loudly debating what to do about the freezing country, I think i touched something weird and my feet have stopped working for me, so it's hard to get to my writing desk. whoops! it's been a struggle to get words written down. Don't worry, though! I've got a chapter for everyone! This time, things get INTENSE. That internal organs being not internal warning was for a reason!

🏰 cursinguponcastles

CHANGE, THIS WAS SO GOOD!! I'm really sorry you're close to being frozen, but I could see how it affected how you wrote Dembélé struggling to get away! It felt too real, haha!!

I'll miss your fics! I, well, hopefully, will see you in a few months!!

#put more stuff under the read more because i dont wanna clog dashes #isat #in stars and time #dashboard simulator #unreality #? #mirabelle focused.

[mrszeoxin]

Revisiting Mystic Messenger (Zen, Yoosung, and Jaehee)

Full transparency, I played these three routes around April and May this year so they aren’t as fresh in my brain. It was super fun to do, I was totally obsessed with this game in high school. However, out of the three options for the Casual Story I had only played Yoosung’s route before, because he was the only one I wanted to date out of them and he was closest to me in age. So Zen and Jaehee’s stories were totally new to me.

Zen’s Route

Truth be told, I used to low-key hate Zen as a teenager. (Please do not hate me, we all have our preferences, and I married Shane in Stardew Valley so clearly people do not always like my favorites either.)

I just have never been super into the silver/white haired anime guys, plus he does come off a little self centered when you don’t play his route, and he hates cats (which as a extreme cat lover is a actual dealbreaker for me irl). So, I never really gave him the time of day.

So is Zen my type? No, probably not. HOWEVER, I did finally play his route, and I will say after that I do like him a lot more than I used to. Is he my favorite? No. But I actually like him now, and feel bad being mean to him, which never used to be a problem for me before.

I love the development of his and Jumin’s relationship, honestly wish this would happen to them in every route because I love it when we can all be open and get along.

Also his voice actor absolutely amazing. 10/10 great voice. He did an amazing job, I actually looked forward to calling/being called by Zen because he did so great.

Overall, super fun, and I enjoyed it so much more than I ever thought I would. I thought getting through it would suck, and while it was a little cringey to get the good ending, it was overall just such a fun route. So Zen May not be for me, but I see what y’all see in him!

Yoosung’s Route

My baby boy Yoosung. I loved Yoosung in high school and I still love him now. It’s kind of sad that I’m older than him now, but I still love him and his route so freaking much!

Reasons why I’m drawn to/love Yoosung; he’s adorable and I love cute guys, he’s a gamer, he’s more emotional, and he’s overall super relatable. Side note: but those reasons also apply to my husband, so it really is stuff I find attractive in a man.

As a teenager I hadn’t really played World of Warcraft or League of Legends, although I knew of both of them. But since then, I actually have played both which has made Yoosung’s addiction to LOLOL so much more funny and relatable to me, I adore it. I also didn’t notice how much of a masochist and sub Yoosung was when I played as a teen, but as an adult it really smacked me in the face and I found it so amusing whenever it was mentioned so casually in all the routes.

His voice actor also did so good. So many of his calls warmed my heart or made me laugh, even outside his route. I know his voice actor said he was very embarrassed by most of Yoosung’s lines, and I can see why, but I still absolutely adored how he did Yoosung’s voice.

So far with my re-play Yoosung has been my favorite, because I just love him so much and I love his story and development as a character.

Jaehee’s Route

Once again, I did not play her route in high school, simply because I’m not romantically attracted to other women so I didn’t feel like it. Plus, why play that when I could go straight to 707 and Jumin (who I was hardcore crushing on). I knew her route was “platonic”, but again I was a teen and only played a route if I was crushing on the character, so I never played her’s.

This route was honestly the most different from all the ones I’ve played, which makes since as Jaehee is a woman. I honestly didn’t hate this route, I’m glad Jaehee got her freedom and found her own passions. I love that she could embrace her femininity again. Plus it was a little funny watching Jumin self-destruct (I laughed so hard about 707’s car and Jumin).

However, as a Jumin lover, Yoosung lover, 707 lover, cat lover, and “Zen’s okay”-er, I don’t think this route was for me. Mainly because, while I love Jaehee and loved her progress, I don’t feel like we would get along irl. Not because she’s bad, just I don’t think our humor and interests would actually align all that much. I don’t like that she sees Yoosung’s hobby as childish or doesn’t appreciate 707’s jokes, and she also hates cats. So, I just didn’t really vibe with it.

I feel like if you love Zen and/or women, and you maybe don’t like Jumin that much, this route would be perfect for you, but that is not me.

The voice actress was awesome, as they all are. She had a very nice voice that I found strangely calming, and I did actually enjoy the calls a lot. So she did an amazing job.

I love Jaehee, but her route was not meant for me.

Overall Thoughts

I’m sure anyone who reads this has already played of or heard of Mystic Messenger. It came out when I was in high school so it’s not exactly a new game anymore. However, I’ve loved getting to revisit it as an adult. Out of Casual Story Yoosung is still the best for me, but I’m sure he’s not the best of the three for everyone and that’s fine. Just wanted to share some of my thoughts since I replayed it. I’ll be doing the Deep Story route probably in September and October, so I’ll post my revisiting those routes then.

#english otome #mystic messenger #otome #otome game #mysme yoosung #mystic messenger yoosung #mysme zen #mystic messenger zen #mysme jaehee #mystic messenger jaehee #mysme

[dropsofletters]

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

[erwinsvow]

𝐚𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

note: part two to the college headcanons! part one can be found here! i had a lot of fun writing these and i hope everyone enjoys them :) teacher/student dynamic warning for zeke and hange's, and i guess bullying for annie's :/

𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐨 𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐝

the very definition of kind-hearted frat boy who doesn’t fit the stereotype he’s been assigned at all

starts off with accounting before realizing he hates math, moves into business management and marketing

the linkedin profile is absolutely popping, 500+ connections and details about every club and organization he’s ever been a part of

the friend that helps everyone find internships and fixes their resumes while offering helpful advice and not being condescending… anyways so that’s how you meet porco

he works at the career center 100% and does various coaching/prep help, and you, pieck’s friend, are in desperate need of an internship

so you’re complaining to your friend as usual, when she tells you to stop by the building and ask for a “pock”

so you do just that, walking in and asking for “pock” and porco is a little stunned by this pretty stranger calling him by a nickname reserved for his close friends, and even then he just barely tolerates it

but he doesn’t want to correct you, especially since you’re being so sweet and he can tell you need some help

so a meeting at the career center slowly turns into facetime calls to review applications and last-minute edits, stopping by your dorm to help you fill out paperwork and walking together to mail it out

i have a feeling porco doesn’t wanna be too forward, and he thinks he’s being very aloof and casual, when he really just seems oblivious

and you cannot tell for the life of you if he likes you or he’s just being friendly since you’re close with pieck

finally after you land the internship and won't have your normal excuse to spend time with him, you get the guts you've been searching for

you tell him about the position later in the day, stopping by the center for hopefully the last time

"by the way, my number's on my resume if you're ever gonna ask me out."

leaves pocky-boy flustered and red and scrambling to ask you out, and you have been happily dating since

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫

oh boy

conny is a very typical college kid in the sense that he will sleep through every 8 am class he has, blow off class to go wait in line for the nacho bar, and has adopted the mantra ‘c’s get degrees’

but he is an extremely lovable education major with a focus in history

rarely seen without his shadow sasha, but now that she started dating niccolo, she thinks that conny could use a relationship too, and that it might do him some good to be with a funny, down-to-earth person

thus begins the most grueling two weeks for every girl on campus, as sasha hunts down girls that she thinks would be a good match for her best friend

this includes airdropping a photo of conny to the lecture hall with the caption “would you date this man? serious inquiries only”

creates a fake tinder complete with a google form to narrow down the options

however, none of this is necessary because sasha bumps into you in the smoothie line and causes your triple berry blend to go flying

she helps you clean up and idle conversation leads to you talking about dates and so forth

“well, i’d love to set you up with my best friend? how do you feel about a blind date?”

yes, conny met you, the love of his life, on a blind date set up by sasha with a stranger

it’s one of those funny stories that people don’t believe when you tell them, because how ridiculous is that, but you both think it’s perfect since you get along so well and it made all the waiting worth it

bonus: double dates with sasha and niccolo! fondue night at their apartment, going to the arcade and having to lug up sasha and her food baby while niccolo parks the car, just overall a grand time :)

𝐳𝐞𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫

zeke yeager, ph.d. started his new job at university with one rule in mind: absolutely no illicit affairs

he also coaches the club baseball team, because why not get involved on your campus

he really believes that he’s gonna stick with it too, despite the overwhelming number of students who come to his office hours with questions that his less handsome teaching assistants could answer

but no, he doesn’t want to earn a reputation as that professor, and so he heads into the new semester with absolutely no lingering thoughts of an exciting little dalliance to get him through the monotonous days

he knows his huge lecture classes would always come with a few pretty students, but it’s the smaller, upper-level psych class he’s teaching when he meets you for the first time

zeke has you all figured out, or so he thinks. sitting in the front row, raising your hand for questions he wasn’t expecting anyone to actually have an answer to, neatly handwritten notes in a color-coded notebook. he wouldn’t peg you for the type to jump and take the risk by starting a relationship with a professor.

but he soon realizes that he didn’t have you as figured out as he thought he did.

you avoid the gaggle of freshmen during office hours by scheduling meetings instead, sometimes right before class, coming to him with two cups of coffee and a wide smile that actually had him fooled into thinking you were here for academic reasons

this facade quickly fades though, because after a semester of interactions with you and getting more and more comfortable with each other, to the point where coffee orders are memorized and it’s zeke rather than professor yeager, you’ve had just about enough

he knows he’s fucked when you come visit him at practice for the baseball team, bringing him a drink and engaging in conversation while the players watch their coach flirt with you

he’s especially fucked when he realizes he’s looking forward to practice just because there’s a chance you’ll stop by on your way to your next class

you submit your final paper early, nearly a week before it’s due and of course the first in the class to do so, and waltz into his office the next day with another steaming cup of his favorite drink

“you submitted your paper pretty early, you know.”

“i know. i also know that it means i’m not your student anymore, so if you were going to make a move, now’s the time.”

no, he definitely had underestimated how much he knew about you.

𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐬𝐚 𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧

mikasa is a forensic sciences major and is still debating on the minor- she’s torn between criminal justice or history like armin.

she loves her major classes, but she just wants something else interesting to look forward to as well, so armin suggests sitting in on a couple classes early in the semester and getting a taste for it.

so you don’t really think twice when she claims the empty seat next to you on the first day of classes, smiling politely and paying attention to the professor. you do notice, however, that she’s not writing anything down or looking at the syllabus, leading you to strike a conversation on why that is.

she explains herself and then before you even know it, the lecture ends and you spent the last forty minutes talking to mikasa about anything and everything.

she’s sitting in on another class tomorrow, and absent mindedly invites you to come along, to which you agree all too quickly, because why wouldn’t you

numbers are exchanged, times are fixed, and mikasa leaves wondering why she’s so excited at the idea of sitting with you in class again.

you two hate the history class she had chosen, with the professor droning on and on and you being focused entirely on the conversation you’re having with mikasa

until the professor kicks the two of you out for not shutting up, that is

you’re both laughing hysterically once you reach the hallway

“i’m gonna have to discourage you from doing that history minor if that’s what all the classes are like.”

“well, i have to do criminal justice so we can have that class together, anyways.”

𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐭

true to form, annie goes into one of the most difficult majors: cheg. definitely flies through intro courses with straight As and minimal effort, but that’s also mostly because all she and bertholdt do is study

reiner tries his hardest to get her to go to a party every once in a while, but usually to no avail because she always has an exam to study for

you’re a tutor, and honestly, you’d say you were pretty good at your job. you can answer questions and explain reasonings fairly well to confused students. but when annie comes to your office hours with some complicated problems and she’s asking for explanations that you just don’t have, you literally feel your face burn with heat for the entirety of the time she’s there

long story short, your first encounter is embarrassing, to say the least. you’re stumbling over words as you try to look through your old notes and piece together an answer for annie, who you cannot even look in the eyes.

anyways, she leaves eventually and you want a hole to open in the ground and swallow you up, but at least she won’t be back next week, right?

wrong.

miss leonhart doesn’t know how to express her feelings any better than you, so her way of flirting is spending time with you in the tutor center as you fail to answer her questions time and time again

you want to scream at her to stop coming because she and you both know you’re not helping either of you with this

but also you really don’t want her to stop coming because you don’t have any other ways to see her outside of class

both of you reach your wit’s end on the same day, her coming to you with the absolute easiest problems she could find in the textbook, and you with every intention of asking her out to dinner

she opens her book, and you reach and close it quickly

“unless this is the only way you know how to flirt, something has to change now.”

𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐳𝐨𝐞

dr. zoë teaches, just, way too many classes

we’re talking multiple chemistry labs and upper-level research courses as well

you’re just a ph.d. student doing rotations as per usual, and you’ve heard the comments from students senior to you about dr. zoë, who makes every student in rotation say hange instead of the formal way you’re used to

you’ve heard everything from crazy to genius and everything in between

what you weren’t expecting was… so good looking, and young? and comforting? and talking about all the things that you didn’t have the guts to bring up with other people, like how you always feel a little left out in the field and that you think no one cares about your research interests that much—a lot of stuff that you find yourself pouring out to hange on your very first day in the lab

you’re wondering why it’s so easy to talk to them, and why none of the other rotations ever felt this comfortable

and then you realize you’re spilling your guts to someone who probably doesn’t even care, and has way more to deal with on their plate than a ph.d. student with imposter syndrome

so you’re apologizing right after you’ve finished, when you’re met with the warmest look and a reassuring hand on your shoulder

it’s so easy to fall after that, with weekly meetings and regular check-ins, and you know it’s wrong to have this strange crush on your superior, but hange really feels like the one person you can count on here

you hide the crush in favor of getting the mentorship you desperately think you need, but it’s not long until you’re onto the next rotation and the next lab’s work is even closer to the stuff you love

you hate the way you feel, that you’re not gonna have any reason to keep in touch and you never even got to explain how you feel about them—and that you didn’t even get to experience hange’s energy because she was always listening and helping you out

it’s not until you get a text the night before your first day in the new lab from hange, filled with reassuring words and asking for a coffee date later in the week to talk about how it goes, that you realize just how well hange understood you

𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫

last but not least, miss pieck is double majoring in french and public health

absolutely obsessed with her majors and loves the subjects, but works herself to death to keep up with it all

you don’t even realize that the pretty, studious girl you’re seeing in the library all the time is the same girl you spot with some of your friends from class

pieck is as oblivious as they come. you invite her on study dates after you two are introduced by reiner, invite her to get coffee after a particularly late night of studying, pretty much start spending most of your days together

you can’t help but be disappointed that pieck doesn’t see you in that way, because you’ve slowly been falling head over heels, but you accept that maybe it just wasn’t meant to be, and you still love the friendship you two have

it takes a while for things to click for pieck, but they do right as the semester eases up

once exams are over, you two decide to go to these famous parties porco and reiner never stop talking about

it’s not the usual scene you’re comfortable with, but what’s wrong with letting loose a little, especially after midterms? no harm in having fun, right?

wrong again! you definitely get plastered way too quickly, and eventually pieck takes you to a room to settle down

drunk confessions of love aren’t usually the way to go, but you can’t help but reveal everything you’ve been feeling for the last few months when pieck is taking care of you in your current state

you definitely wake up hungover and ignorant to last night’s shenanigans, but you’re in your dorm, with a bottle of water and ibuprofen on the nightstand, phone plugged in and shoes off

pieck comes back with breakfast, coffee and your favorite pastries, and checks up on you

“so.. about last night..”

“i’m so sorry, did i throw up on you?”

“no, but you did say you were in love with me. was that just a drunk thing, or is it a sober thing too? because i think i’m in love with you too.”

#aot #aot headcanons #porco galliard #porco x reader #connie springer #conny springer x reader #zeke yeager #zeke jaeger #zeke yeager x reader #mikasa ackerman #mikasa x reader #snk #annie leonhart #pieck finger #pieck finger x reader #snk headcanons #hange zoe #hange x reader #annie leonhart x reader #attack on titan #college au

[hangovercurse]

Crash Into Me

You’d been MGK’s assistant for years, but you never thought you had a chance at anything more with him until one stoplight changes everything.

Request: “ok im so sorry if this is 2 specific but ive had this idea for ages abt pining!colson x an insecure/clueless!reader who has been his assistant forever. she gets into a car accident and calls him hours later to tell him that a temp will be taking her place for a few weeks (bc of injuries) and he's like ?? why?? she explains nonchalantly, then kells kinda freaks out and shows up at the hospital all worried”

Colson Baker X Reader

Warnings: Cursing, car accident (descriptive)

A/N: This was cute 😊

Word Count: 3185

“Alright Kells, I’m out for the night. I’ll email those tracks to the board when I get home and I’ll let you know if I get any updates for tomorrow’s press.” You told the blond man who was sitting on the couch as you put your laptop into your bag. You tried not to yawn as you heaved it over your shoulder, “anything else?”

You glanced at the kitchen clock that read 2 am and let out a small sigh. You were used to late nights given your job as assistant to a rockstar, but most nights you were able to leave before 8 pm. Tonight you and Colson had gotten really invested in the tracks you were editing and lost track of time.

“Y/N,” he turned to look at you with puppy dog eyes. He wanted something that you really weren’t gonna want to give him. “Could you come over early tomorrow to help me pick out what to wear for the Vanity Fair interview?”

You chuckled, “you know they have their own wardrobe department?”

He sighed, “yeah but you know me so much better than all those stylists. I trust your opinion more.”

You rolled your eyes as he tilted his head, begging you. “Fine, but I’m buying us coffee with your credit card.”

He broke out into a smile, “thank you, love you!” He called as you walked towards his front door.

“Whatever, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You told him, taking your car keys into your hands, and stepping out into the LA night. There was a soft breeze that shook the trees slightly, making you smile. It felt nice outside for the first time in a while.

Because of this, you decided to drive home with your windows rolled down, letting the wind flow through your hair. The roads were pretty barren by LA standards, so traffic was pretty much non-existent. You were sitting at a red light, your fingers tapping against your steering wheel as one of Colson’s songs played through your speakers softly.

You reached to turn up the volume as the light turned green. You pressed the gas, your car moving forward into the intersection. Suddenly you heard a loud squeal of brakes, looking over to your passenger window to the sight of two headlights barreling towards you. You tried to speed up to get out of the way, but it was too late.

The truck rammed straight into the side of your small car, pushing your vehicle over into the car next to you. You put your left arm up to shield you from any flying debris, but it was futile. The infrastructure of your car fell apart at the force, the dashboard collapsing onto your right leg. Luckily, your left leg managed to avoid the destruction.

You could barely feel the force of the whiplash due to the pain in your abdomen at the deployment of the airbag. Glass from the car next to you fell into your car through your open window, cutting into your skin.

And then all of a sudden, everything stopped. The truck that had hit you had stopped moving, allowing you to fully assess the damage. Your car was totaled for sure, and your leg was definitely crushed. You cried out in pain, breathing heavy and trying to see straight. You could hear the sound of sirens in the distance, giving you some sense of relief.

When the paramedics got to the scene, you were the last passenger to be taken out of the crash due to your car being in the center. A firefighter had to break the glass of your windshield, which was already cracked, in order to pull you out. When you told him your leg was stuck under the dashboard, he sent a team of men to lift it from your foot and another to pull you out of the wreckage.

They were all amazed you were still conscious but got very worried when you told them you couldn’t feel the pain in your leg. You rode in an ambulance to the hospital, the EMTs helping pick the glass from your skin and assessing your injuries. You made jokes with them to calm yourself down, something that you did with Colson and Rook whenever they got into accidents while you were out with them.

You thought about giving them Colson’s name when they asked about your emergency contact but decided against it. You didn’t want to worry him until absolutely necessary. You figured you’d see what the doctor had to say and if you wouldn’t be able to come back to work, then you would tell him.

Unfortunately, that’s exactly what the doctor said. In fact, you wouldn’t be able to leave the hospital for at least a week due to your shattered leg, bruised abdomen, and concussion.

The leg would require at least 2 if not more surgeries to repair and you would be on close watch for development of a more serious brain injury. After that you most likely wouldn’t be able to be back on your feet for another 8 to 12 weeks, which was kind of a requirement for your job.

It was almost 5am, so you weren’t necessarily thinking straight when you called Colson from your cracked phone. He answered, his voice conveying how tired he was. “Y/N? Everything okay?”

“Hey Kells, I’m not gonna be able to come in early tomorrow, or at all. I’m gonna start looking for a temporary replacement tomorrow if I’m feeling up to it. Oh! And I couldn’t send those tracks to the board, sorry.” You told him, only half registering the words you were saying.

The confusion was evident in his voice, “what? Why do you need to find a replacement?”

You realized you had forgotten to tell him what happened. “Oh, yeah! It’s kind of funny.” You started, chuckling but then realizing that laughing made your stomach hurt even more. “And by funny, I mean not funny at all. I got into a car accident. Some dude ran into my car in an intersection and now I’m in the hospital.”  

“Which hospital?” Colson asked, suddenly much more awake.

“Hollywood Presbyterian.” You told him, “why?”

He sounded like he was rushing around, which he was. “I’m coming to see you.”

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, “why? I’m fine, you don’t need to do that. You have a big interview tomorrow, you should sleep.”

Colson sighed, “fuck the interview, I’ll be there in a few.”

“Colson you don’t-“ You started, but he hung up before you could tell him not to come.

Why was he rushing to see you in the hospital? Sure, you were friends, but he had much more important things to worry about right now. And besides, you were more casual work friends. He wouldn’t even know you existed if you didn’t work for him. Sure, you had a huge crush on him, but he was your boss, you were just someone he asked to do things he didn’t want to do.

 20 minutes later Colson ran into the hospital room, stopping when he saw you in the bed. Your face was red from chemical burn and a few cuts of glass. Your right leg was propped up with basic bandaging around it. His heart broke at the thought of how much pain you had probably been in.

“How are you feeling?” He asked softly, moving to sit in the chair on your left side.

You shrugged, “I’ve been better.”

“Why didn’t you call me sooner?” He asked, eyes full of pity.

“I didn’t want to bother you unless it was serious. Figured I’d find out if I would have to miss work before telling you.” You said, squeezing your eyes shut as a headache washed over you.

Colson’s mouth gaped open, “you didn’t want to bother me? You got in a car crash and you weren’t gonna call me unless you would have to miss work?”

You shrugged again, “yeah. If my laptop wasn’t completely crushed in the accident I would’ve just found and sent a temp in tomorrow, but obviously that’s impossible.”

“Y/N you’re kidding me, right?” He asked, exasperated. You furrowed your eyebrows in response, causing a sigh to fall from his lips. “Y/N I don’t give a shit about a temp; I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Oh, I’m fine. A little shaken and these headaches are killer, but they gave me a lot of pain medication so, I’m fine.” You smiled at him, your thoughts racing as you tried to figure out why he cared so much about how you were feeling.

He nodded, hand reaching out and landing on top of yours gently. “So, do they have to do surgery? What all did the doctors say?” He asked, worry in his eyes.

You nodded, “yeah, at least 2 surgeries. One around 11 am and then depending on how that one goes they’ll schedule the next. And they have to watch me to make sure my concussion doesn’t get worse.”

He pulled out his phone, typing away. “What are you doing?” You asked, suddenly feeling very tired.

“I just emailed the PR liaison for Vanity Fair and told them I wouldn’t be able to make it to the interview.” He responded.

“Why did you do that?” You asked through a yawn.

He looked at you like the answer was the most obvious thing in the world, “because I have to be with you right now.”

You were very confused as to why he thought he had to be here. “Colson, I’ll be fine. You should go to the interview. You don’t have to stay here.”

“I do have to be here. I want to be here.” He said, sternly.

“Why?” You asked, trying to keep your eyes open.

“Because I wanna make sure you’re okay.”

“I’ll just call you after the surgery, it’s no big deal.” You responded lazily.

He shook his head, “I want to stay here with you, Y/N. Okay? I care about you.”

You were too tired to process what he was saying at this point, so you just let out a hum. “I need to make sure you’re okay. I need to see you being okay. When you called me, I swear I was gonna have a heart attack if I didn’t see you.” He continued.

You were barely awake at this point, letting out a simple, “I’m okay” before slipping into unconsciousness.

 Suddenly you were back in your car, “Bloody Valentine” playing from your speakers. The sky was dark green, almost like a painting. In front of you, the red light turned green. Like clockwork, you pressed the gas, moving into the intersection. Suddenly, the lights disappeared, and you heard the familiar chilling sound of breaks squealing. You looked over and saw those headlights coming towards you, getting closer and closer, brighter, and brighter.

You screamed at the sight, the familiar paralyzing fear coursing through your body again. “Y/N!” Your name played through the radio. That’s not in the song, you thought. “Y/N!” Colson’s voice rang out again before the truck made contact with your car.

You woke up in a cold sweat to Colson standing over you, hands shaking your shoulders lightly. “Y/N.” He said, relieved when your eyes began to open.

Your entire body was shaking like a poodle and your arms subconsciously reached for Colson, hanging onto his shirt for dear life. “It was just a dream.” He whispered as your eyes darted around the room. “You’re okay.” He reassured you.

“I’m sorry.” You muttered, hands leaving the fabric and moving to cover up your face. “I’m sorry.”

Colson sat on the bed next to you, legs hanging off the side as he stroked your face gently. “It’s okay, baby.” He turned to the nurse who opened the door, a worried expression on her face. He shook his head at her, “sorry, she just had a nightmare. She’s okay.” The nurse nodded but stayed in the room anyways, checking your vitals.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled again, the words seeming to be the only thing you could say.

Colson shook his head, “stop saying that, it’s okay.” You pouted at him, trying to scoot over so he would lay down next to you, but it was way too painful. “What are you doin?” He asked, a smile on his face.

You sighed, “wanted you to sit next to me but I can’t move because of this stupid leg.” You motioned to the leg in question.

Colson chuckled, “I can sit next to you in the chair.”

“That didn’t work last time.” You whined.

He looked at you with an expression that was both amused and confused. You were definitely still high on pain medication. “What didn’t work.”

“It didn’t stop the nightmare.” You frowned, hand reaching for his. He chuckled, standing up fully and looking at the nurse.

She flashed him an amused smile, “If you want, we can try to move her. I don’t know how much we can do without hurting her ribs, though.”

Colson nodded with a gracious smile, “hear that? We can’t move you because of your ribs.”

You glared at him, “I may be very high right now, but I’m not that high.” You said, making him giggle. “She said you could try.”

Colson let out an exasperated sigh, one arm going under your back and the other under your left leg. “Is this what it’s like taking care of me all the time?” He asked and you nodded your head firmly.

“Yep. Except I am much smaller than you, so you have less work to do with me.” You smiled as he lifted you off the bed, which quickly turned into a grimace. “Ow!” You yelped and Colson quickly set you down, slightly closer to the right side of the bed.

“Fuck, sorry princess. Are you okay?” He asked, voice soft.

You nodded, sucking in your bottom lip to block the whimpers of pain that threatened to escape your mouth. “You probably don’t remember, but one time you were so crossed that you called me to pick you up from a party. But you couldn’t make it out of the car, so I had to carry you into your house. And then you demanded to sleep in your own room, so you made me drag you up the stairs instead of passing out on the couch like normal.”

Colson let out a breathy chuckle, glad you weren’t hurt too much. He carefully sat onto the cot next to you, pulling up his right leg to sit on the bed. His arm wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you into him slightly. You shifted so that you were comfortable, left hand finding his own left hand and holding it. He brought his left leg up onto the bed so he was fully laying with you.

Your head rest on his chest, a soft smile on your face as his thumb rubbed circles on your hand. The nurse left, satisfied that you wouldn’t hurt yourself further. Colson pressed a small kiss to the top of your head, causing your eyebrows to furrow.

“What time is it?” You asked him, to which he responded by pulling out his phone and showing you the lock screen. 8:47am. You nodded, a frown on your face, “did you get any sleep?” You asked him softly.

“I’m fine, I was asleep for a few hours before you called me.”

You sighed, feeling guilty. “You should go home and get some sleep.”

You felt him shake his head from behind you, “I’m staying right here.”

Despite wanting to force him to go home, you couldn’t help the happiness you felt at his stubbornness to stay with you. “You know you don’t need to be here. I won’t be offended if you leave.”

He chuckled, “stop trying to get me to leave. I’m here. On my own accord, okay? I’m gonna take care of you.”

You paused, thinking about the word floating around your head. “Why?” you whispered.

Colson’s face scrunched in confusion, “what do you mean “why”? Because you’re my friend and I care about you.”

“I mean, yeah. But I’m not like a “drop everything” kind of friend, I’m just your assistant.” You muttered.

Colson made an “are-you-serious?” face and let out a snort. “Seriously? You are so much more than you give yourself credit for. You mean the world to me, of course I’d drop everything for you.”

You couldn’t think of a response, his words making your heart race. “oh.” Was the best you could come up with.

“Y/N, seriously, you think way too low of yourself. You’re amazing.” He said, nose burying into your hair.

You shrugged, “you only say that because I take care of you when you’re drunk and help you do all the things you don’t want to do.”

Colson’s expression softened, a frown forming on his face. “I’m saying that because I think the world of you. You’re the kindest, funniest, coolest person I know. I meant it, when you told me you were in the hospital, my heart almost stopped. I felt sick to my stomach just thinking about you being hurt.” He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing, “I wish you could see how much you mean to me.” He mumbled.

You were quiet for a little while, processing what he had said. “You’re only saying that because I’m in the hospital.” You muttered, a frown on your face. You were trying to keep your hopes low, knowing once you were out of here, he would regret saying any of this.

“Y/N, are you being serious right now? I’m saying this because I’ve been fucking in love with you for the past year and a half.” He said and you could feel your breath catch in your throat. “I can’t believe you don’t see it.”

You bit your lip, turning to look up to him. “I just- I didn’t want- you wouldn’t.” You stumbled over your words, taking a deep breath, and starting again. “I didn’t want to read too much into it or get my hopes up. I figured you’d never be into someone like me so I just told myself you were being nice. I thought you only treated me well because I worked for you.” You mumbled.

He frowned, holding you tighter to him, “I am so, so into you. You are the only woman in my life who has ever stuck by me through my worst shit. Like even when I was a total jackass you stayed with me. How could I not fall in love with you?”

You bit your lip, tears threatening to spill at his sweet sentiment. You’d never had anyone say something that kind about you. You’d always assumed people only kept you around because you did stuff for them, but here was the man you were in love with telling you that he cared about you for you.

“I love you too.” You whispered, leaning your head further into his chest.

#mgk #mgk imagine #mgk angst #mgk fluff #machine gun kelly #colson baker imagine #machine gun kelly imagine #Colson baker #colson x reader #colson baker fluff #colson baker angst #colson imagine

[sanguineness-wings]

Why are you running?

(read on ao3)

Pairing: Hawks x gn!Reader

Rating: SFW

Warnings: bird traits/instincts

hawks/raptors have this instinct to chase and attack if you turn your back on them, so what if you accidentally trigger it 👀

----------------------------------------------------------------

The sun was dipping low on the horizon, sending amber rays of light between the tightly packed skyscrapers. You shield your eyes from the light as you step out of the convenience store, your groceries in hand. After you take a moment for your eyes to adjust, you note a small crowd gathering just up the sidewalk from you. And from the center of it sprouts a large pair of crimson wings.

It’s a dead giveaway, those wings were plastered everywhere across the city, on billboards, on buses. There’s no escaping Hawks’ image.

As you watch on, the man himself suddenly hovers above his adoring fans, stretching out his impressive wing span leisurely. Leaving you with a perfect view of his wind tossed hair kissed with dying sunlight and a lopsided smile on his lips.

It makes your heart clench as you look on with awe. He’s so effortlessly beautiful it hurts to look at him. It’s also incredibly intimidating. How can those fans just talk to him like it’s nothing. You couldn’t even imagine.

Your staring must have caught his attention as suddenly his gaze turns and locks onto yours. You feel your stomach lurch, frozen with embarrassment. Hawks has the audacity to offer you a softer smile, making your cheeks heat up instantly.

Your brain screams at you to leave now. Your shyness urging you flee the unexpected attention. So you sharply turn your back to the crowd, and the gorgeous Pro Hero, and hurriedly make your escape.

Without consciously knowing why, you take a final glance over your shoulder. Even with Hawks’ signature visor over is eyes, you can see his pupils dilate, nearly completely blown black before constricting to tiny pin pricks in a split second. His smile has fallen from his face, leaving behind a cold blankness. A shiver runs through you and a cold sweat breaks out under your collar.

Your brain unhelpfully supplies, “Haha, I’m in danger!” Adrenaline courses through your veins and you run. A full sprint down the sidewalk in panic. It’s a ridiculous response in hindsight, but you’ve never seen such an inhuman look on Hawks’ face.

You barely make it a few feet before you feel a gust of wind behind you and suddenly your vision is nothing but red. Massive wings envelope you entirely as powerful arms lock around your waist, almost bruising in their strength. You’re dragged to your knees as the body behind you curls over your spine. You feel the prickle of stubble against your neck and jaw, hot puffs of breath against your skin. You’re utterly trapped.

All logical thoughts are thrown out the window with your heart thundering against your ribs. You don’t dare move a muscle.

An indiscernible amount of time passes before you hear a huffed laugh next to your ear, making you shudder.

“Well, isn’t this embarrassing, damn. I’m really sorry about all this. Are you alright?” Hawks says in a tight voice as he slowly releases you from his grip.

You’re shaking as you awkwardly stumble to your feet, Hawks aiding with a gentle, gloved hand on your elbow. When you finally get the courage to glance at his face, your heart does a somersault in your chest. A light blush dusts the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks. He has a hand behind his head sheepishly, using the other to steady you on your jelly-like legs.

“I haven’t done something like that since I was a teenager in training,” he admits, bashfulness coloring his voice.

“…and what was that exactly?” You finally find your voice, wincing inwardly at how shaken it sounds.

“Oh you know, like…bird stuff? Well, hawk stuff? Like predator instinct?” Hawks shifts from foot to foot, looking anywhere but you.

“Like...you thought I was prey?”

“No! No, it’s not like that. Well, I mean kind of. But not really? It’s hard to explain. You turned your back and I just…couldn’t help myself. I’m really sorry. Did I hurt you at all?” Seeing this level of uncomfortableness on Hawks was so jarring from how he normally carries himself in the public eye. It was like all of his confidence was parred away. 

“I’m okay, really. Just gave me a fright, that’s all.” You’re really trying your best to sound casual, adding a weak laugh to hopefully defuse the tension.

He humors you, offering a half-hearted smile as he stoops down to gather up your groceries that you didn’t notice had spilled across the sidewalk.

"Well, if you’re sure you’re okay, I should be off. A hero’s job never stops.”

And with that he’s gone, taking off into the sky. You stand there dumbly on the sidewalk in shock for a few beats.

You then hear murmuring, whispering, and the click of photos being captured. Horrified, you realize Hawks’ fans were watching everything and recorded every second of it. You curse under your breath as you start rushing home, ignoring the growing crowd behind you. If Hawks wasn’t going to eat you alive, the internet certainly was.

---

Get it together, Hawks. What the hell was that?

The winged hero cursed at himself with gritted teeth and a furrowed brow as he shot across the sky. He shouldn’t have done that. He was trained not to do that. The Commission pushed him hard to ignore the animalistic pull to hunt and another traits they deemed unsightly or dangerous. And he had gotten good at suppressing those instincts. He passed all of their tests and drills after years of intense training. He never had a slip up since starting his Pro career.

His mind was racing as he tried to pin point what made him react like that. Did he let his guard down? Got too comfortable in the moment?

He thought of the way you trembled in his arms, immobilized with fear. The thundering of your panicked heart and the quiver of your voice. A shiver crept down his spine, making his hair and feathers stand on end. He liked it. The thrill of it all lighting up parts of his brain long neglected. 

A frustrated growl escaped his lips, lost to the roar of the wind around him. He really shouldn’t be entertaining those thoughts, even for a moment. He felt gross. 

He dug his phone from his pocket, sending a text to his PR manager. The least he could do was give them a heads up. Though pictures and videos of the whole incident were probably already circulating. His PR team had their work cut out for them, it was a seriously bad look for the hero. 

Almost immediately after he sent the text his phone buzzed angrily with replies from his team and an incoming call from the Commission. His heart sank to the pit of his stomach. It was going to be a long night.

---

The days following were a nightmarish blur of embarrassment and anxiety. Your brief brush with Hawks was plastered across every social media platform. You couldn’t escape all of the memes and GIFs. You wanted nothing more than to blink from existence.

Most people thought the whole thing was funny, even wishing it was them tackled to the sidewalk by Hawks. Your coworkers teased you mercilessly, constantly asking if you at least got his number afterwards. 

There weren’t many, but a few comments filled you with anger. They were using this to fuel for their hatred towards those with heteromorphic quirks. They claimed that this proved they were dangerous, nothing more than animals. Which, of course, was ridiculous. 

But you did your best to keep your head down and ignore the notifications on your phone. You kept reassuring yourself that this would all blow over soon. And sure enough by the end of the week the internet was distracted by “leaked” selfies of Hawks in grey sweatpants, posing in front of a bathroom mirror.

---

Hawks had just started an early morning patrol as he glided and weaved through the streets. He’d been taking on extra hours lately, finding it easier to distract himself on the job rather than staring at his bedroom ceiling. Who needed sleep anyway. If he stopped, all he could think about was you. The fear on your face. Your frantic pulse against his skin. Guilt gnawed away at him. He didn’t want to scare you, what type of hero would he be if he did. 

Instead of dwelling on the thoughts eating at him, he focused on the streets below him. It was relatively quiet, only a scattering of people going about their lives. He swooped lower, maneuvering between lamp posts just for his own entertainment. He pulled up short abruptly, nearly smacking into one of them.

His heart lurched in his chest, recognizing you immediately as you made your way down the street. He had a little mental battle with himself. Half of him wanted to talk to you, just reassure himself that you were truly okay after all this madness. The other have was telling him to leave you alone, that he’d only made it worse.

After hovering awkwardly for a few moments he made his decision. He made a show of circling ahead of you before landing, trying not to startle you. 

---

Having Hawks appear in front of you was the very last thing you expected on your walk to work. You had convinced yourself that you’d never see him again and that, even if your paths crossed, he wouldn’t want to be seen with you.

Yet here he was, with a charming smile on his face and feathers gleaming in the sun. 

You approach him cautiously, pulling out your earbuds. “Um, hi?” you start apprehensively, not sure what the hero could possibly want from you.

As you catch up to him he starts walking beside you, joining you on your commute. His wing stretches out behind you and curls around your side. Smart, you think. Even if the two of you catch someone’s eye, you were largely blocked from view.

It’s comfortably warm beneath his wing, with your shoulders brushing against each other as you walk. Your heart speeds up a little, being this close to him is a little overwhelming. Especially with the memory of him being pressed over you still fresh in your mind.

“So, I wanted to start over, if that’s alright with you. I don’t think I gave you the best first impression,” Hawks explains, his eyes fixed ahead.

“Definitely a memorable one,” you quip lightheartedly. You were more mortified by all of the unwanted attention. You knew deep down you were never in any real danger. 

Hawks snorts, making you glance at him. You watch him roll his eyes. “Not my best moment. I’m really sorry I scared you so badly. I swear I’m not going to hurt you, or anyone.”

It makes you pause as you stare at the side of his face. “I know you wouldn’t. And you didn’t even leave a mark. We can just say it was a...weird, unexpected hug. Leave it at that.”

Hawks’ gaze catches yours for a brief moment before looking away quickly, a serious look sliding onto his features. “You know that’s not what it was.”

“I know but...I’m not going to judge you for your bird stuff, or whatever it is. You’re still human. Even with the wings. We all have weird, awkward tendencies. I’m a mess of them too, and I don’t even have a Quirk. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.

“So don’t beat yourself up too much,” you say, gaining a bit of confidence the more you speak. “You’re not a monster.”

Silence stretches between the two of you, both lost in thought. You surprise yourself when you are the first to break it. 

“Besides, I thought we were starting over. I’m y/n,” you begin, nudging his shoulder with your own as you offer him a warm smile.

“I’m Hawks, but you already knew that. Say, why don’t I treat you to some coffee. There’s this great little cafe not far from here. They have these pastries that are to die for. Trust me, you’ll love it!” The hero chatters away, with you still safely tucked away under his wing.

#hawks #hawks bnha #takami keigo #takami keigo x reader #hawks x reader #echo writes

[shyficwriter]

“Okay sweetcheeks, what do you propose we do?” with Yondu maybe?

I love your writing btw <3

[Thank you! Send me a sentence starter!]

“Okay sweetcheeks, what do you propose we do?” Yondu said to you in a biting tone. You had just finished stating the obvious that there were too many of the little blue rodents swarming to kill them all as Yondu called back his arrow. Unfortunately, at the same time, you had no solution.

The two of you were currently stood on a flat rock the size of a small table about a foot or two off the ground as the little blue rodents swarmed in a mini stampede throughout the cave the two of you had entered to escape the sudden storm outside. You must have disturbed them with your presence.

This was supposed to be an easy job. Come to Berhert, grab some weird moss for some client, and get out. Now you were surrounded by little creepy blue rodents. You knew you should have gone with Peter to Xandar on that supply run, but nOoO, you just had to go see the forest.

After a couple moments of no answer from you, Yondu crouched down looked back at the rodents. He hadn't recognized them at first, mistaking them for a different type of rodent with a venomous bite, and that's why he had ushered the two of you up onto the rock. However now, upon a chance to reflect, he realized that these rodents weren't their venomous cousins, and declared the two of you would probably be ok to walk about them. Maybe make a fire and cook a few later if the rain didn't let up outside.

"Um, I-I think we're good," you say, "We can just stay up here. The rain should let up soon, and-and they'll probably go back to wherever they're spawning from soon enough if we leave them alone."

Yondu stood and rolled his eyes before chuckling. "Don't tell me you're scared of those little critters now," he teased.

"I'm not!" you refute, slightly pouting.

"Well if ya ain't scared then why ya wanna stay cramped up here then for?"

"It's not that cramped," you say. It wasn't totally a lie. There was maybe enough room to fit two adults to sit, but not much more. You decided to sass him a bit for implying you were scared. "Besides, it's not like you smell that bad," you say with a slight smirk.

Yondu half-frowned at the insult and reached over to jab you in the ribs, earning a strangled giggle from you as you jumped.

He raised an eyebrow and poked you a few more times with an amused smirk, enjoying your reaction.

"Cut that out! It tickles!" you scold, his last poke making you need to reach out and grab him to catch your balance before you stumbled off the rock.

"Watch out, ya don't wanna fall into all those little critters now." he teased, poking you some more. If nothing else, this could provide him with some entertainment for a bit.

"Then quit poking me!" you scold again, jumping and jerking each time his finger connected with your ribs or stomach. He was right, you really didn't want to fall into them. The thought of having them crawl all over you made you shudder.

Yondu's mouth twitched up in a mischievous grin and he shrugged, complying with your request only to switch to properly tickling you, his fingers now spidering over your sides.

You spasmed and nearly fell off the rock again, squealing for him to knock it off before you fell. Of course, he didn't listen, having too much fun as he tormented you and teasingly kept saying, "Watch out, yer gonna fall!"

"Yondu! No! Quit it! This isn't fair!" you cried out through giggles. "You're gonna make me fall! No!" You just manage to right yourself again and realize that you need to lower your center of gravity. Grabbing his wrists you manage to give just enough of a shove to put him slightly off balance and then you immediately drop to a sitting position, curling your legs up to your chest and wrapping your arms around your knees to prevent any chance that your feet might dangle off the edge and risk one of the rodents jumping up on your leg.

Yondu laughed and knelt down. "You really think that's gonna save ya?" he taunted, reaching out to briefly wiggle his fingers in your armpit.

You let out a short shriek and immediately unfolded as your legs kicked out, making Yondu laugh and slap his knee at your reaction.

You were now turned slightly to face him the best you could and you held your arms out in defense. "Don't!" you whined mixed with residual giggles. "Don't make me fall!"

"What ya scared of those little rodent critters for?" Yondu laughed. "They ain't gonna hurt ya!"

You could feel your cheeks burning. "I'm not scared!"

Yondu smirked and started poking you again. "Sure ya ain't."

You started to jerk and squirm away from his assault, squeaking, "I'm not! Cut it out!"

"Admit it. Yer scared of them," he replied, now properly tickling your ribs again.

You threw your head back and cackled wildly, kicking out as you tried to lean back without falling backward. "No! No please!" you cried out in laughter, "Yondu! This isn't funny!"

Yondu just laughed at you. "I think it's plenty funny." He then moved his hands up to tickle under your arms and laughed along with you as you had to grab onto his arm to stop yourself from falling backwards. "Go on now, admit yer scared and I might consider not lettin' ya fall into that big swarm of them underneath ya."

"YONDU!" you screech, "Please! This isn't fair!" You wanted to let go of his arm so you could grab his hands, but if you let go you'd fall because you couldn't help but lean away from the ticklish feeling and then those creepy little things would surely crawl all over you. Your choices were hold on and be tickled, or let go and fall into a sea of rodents. Clearly, not much of a choice.

Yondu laughed at you, knowing he was being absolutely unfair, but it was just too funny watching you struggle as you tried to lean away from the tickling, but yet had to grip onto his duster jacket to keep yourself from falling because you had leant too far away to keep yourself upright. That, and he could tell you your grip was loosening.

You had realized this too, and started begging more urgently for him to quit tickling you. "No! No! Stop it! Please! I'm gonna fall!" you cried out, your laughter now panicked and squeaky. "Please! Please! I can't! You're making me fall!" You then squealed louder and kicked at the rock in desperation when he dug a little more into your armpits. It tickled so much it was practically unbearable. "Please! Don't! I can't!" Your words came out high and squeaky and your grip was loosening more. You couldn't hold on much longer. It was time to give in. "Ok! Ok! You win! Please! Just don't let me f-"

You hands finally slipped off his duster.

You fell.

It wasn't far. Again, you were only a little bit off the ground, but that didn't change the shriek that ripped from your throat as you felt yourself fall onto your upper back.

You jumped up immediately and swatted at yourself as you cried out for a good couple moments before you realized you weren't covered in tiny blue rodents.

Yondu could be heard absolutely laughing his ass off.

You glanced around in confusion. "They're... gone...?"

Yondu nodded through his laughter. After a moment he was able to manage speech. "They all cleared out a bit ago, but you should have seen your face! That was too good!" He continued laughing at you.

You frowned at him. "If you knew they were gone why did you keep torturing me! You made me think I was about to fall into hundreds of those creepy little things!"

Yondu finally stood, still chuckling. "So ya finally admit you were scared of 'em, then?" he teased, "And 'cause yer easy to pick on. Had to find something to pass the time." He shrugged and stepped off the rock, nodding towards the cave entrance. "Looks like the rain's let up too. Let's get a move on." He then started walking away like nothing happened.

You frowned and followed. "You're impossible," you grumble at him.

Yondu just turned to shrug at you with a smirk. "Would have been over quicker if ya'd just admitted ya was scared of them. Not my fault ya make it so easy to tease ya."

"I'll get you back for that," you threatened.

Yondu just chuckled and rolled his eyes, delivering one final poke to your stomach, the resulting giggle making your threat much less threatening. "Uh huh. Sure ya will, scaredy pants."

#gotg fanfiction #yondu #sentence starters #yondu udonta x reader #yondu udonta #ravager

[ultrahpfan5blog]

Thoughts on B99 season 8 and the finale....

So I must admit, I have been putting off watching the finale as part of being in denial that the show has ended and there are no more new episodes to come. And just like Terry, I was not in denial of being in denial. But I finally pulled the trigger and watched the final two episodes and I do have a lot of thoughts about it and the final season.

Firstly, about season 8 has a whole. I will begrudgingly admit that this might be the weakest season of the show, and a large part of it being due to circumstances surrounding the show. Now weakest does not mean it was a bad season. Weakest seasons of B99 is better than 99% of other shows, pun intended, but I think this season struggled a little dealing with the seriousness of the policing storyline but still trying to find humor, combined with the short episode order, and trying to find appropriate endings for the characters. Its a valiant effort and the season is still enjoyable but I don't think it was completely successful at juggling everything.

The fundamental problem with the policing storyline that it is inherently serious and that clashes with the tone of the show. There was a sense of tonal whiplash throughout the season as a result. It was a bit of a problem when a show as progressive as B99 but also a show that is inherently about good cops trying to do good in their community has to try and appeal to a fanbase that considers policing fundamentally as corrupt. Its a tough line to ride and while the show does try, I can't say it completely worked for me. The premiere was arguably the most uncomfortable episode to watch because of the subject matter and the show was very brave to do that and also later in the season when the show put its lead character as Jake as the person in the wrong in a policing matter. But because of the severity of what is happening in these episodes, its tough to find them very funny even though there are hilarious moments in these episodes. Holt getting huffy was great. But in the end, these aren't episodes that I necessarily feel like revisiting. Also, because the issue of policing is big, it had to be done over the course of the season. Which meant 4 out of 10 episodes were relatively serious. I think Blue Flu is the best episode of the bunch in the storyline as it managed to give us a heartfelt storyline with Jake and Boyle as well as do a good job giving Holt a showcase against McGinley's O'Sullivan, who was an excellent antagonist. I felt the resolution of the storyline was a little too pat and convenient. I know they mentioned that O'Sullivan was re-elected for life but they also made it seem like their proposal could change the NYPD which seems like a very tv thing. I also admittedly rolled my eyes that Amy got promoted from Sergeant of Uniformed officers to being a Chief. No way do I buy that type of promotion. That's like a 5 rank promotion I believe. And if its possible, it kind of felt like uncomfortable favoritism on Holt's part.

The best episodes of the season were the episodes in between the policing storyline, because they were lighthearted and fun and played to the strength of the show. However, the airing schedule also kind of worked against it. The tonal whiplash was very evident because we would get one fairly serious episode coupled with one lighthearted episode back to back and it did feel weird while watching it. I feel like if this was like a 15 episode season and the policing storyline was a bit more spaced out, it wouldn't have felt so weird tonally. I loved Balancing, because of the realistic portrayal of how parenting can be. I also really loved PB&J. I know people have varying opinions on the Pontiac Bandit but I really loved how sweetly sentimental the episode ended up by the end. I also liked that Boyle got to be a part of the episode because I always wanted a Jake, Judy, and Boyle episode. I think the way the season executed the Holt and Kevin storyline was exquisite. I was initially not sure why they went about the route of spitting them up but they did an incredible job at their reunion storyline. The Lake House was a hilarious start. I love that the show came through on the commitment of their vow renewal from like season 2 I believe. Holt and Kevin got the vow renewal, the romantic kiss in the rain. It was wonderful. The season had some strong peraltiago moments, specifically in Balancing and in the finale.

The one episode I was a little meh about was Game of Boyles. I really don't think in a final season which already was so short that we needed an episode about Boyle not being a blood Boyle. It wasn't even a particularly big showcase for Joe and Charles' weird habits. The highlight of the episode was the big Holt and Kevin reunion but the episode was otherwise a bit flat. I think because of the fact that the episode order was so short, a few of the characters seemed genuinely wasted. I believe Stephanie Beatriz was pregnant throughout the shooting. With Covid, maybe it was part of the deal for her to be a more minor role but apart from the premiere and the finale, she really isn't used much despite the premiere kind of pitching her as a driving point of this policing storyline which then pivoted mostly to Holt and Amy. Terry was really completely sidelined all season. He's a hilarious side character in some episodes like The Lake House but he didn't really have a single episode where he got to be front and center. Boyle got a few good moments but, like I said, Game of Boyles wasn't even really a big Charles showcase episode. I think his best episode was Blue Flu. The season really felt more lead centric on Jake, Holt, and Amy. Again, I feel this was mainly because of the fact that the policing story took up half the season and there wasn't really enough room in the rest of the season for the others to be showcased. As a result we didn't get any real detective episodes, no Pimento episode, no Vulture return, no return of Jake and Amy's parents etc... all of which could have been fun.

I feel like I have pointed out the issues I had with the season quite a bit, mainly because the show has set such high standards for seasons past. The episodes are still ranging from decent to really good. I don't think there is any episode that comes as an all time B99 classic in this season, but there isn't any real bad episodes either. So its still a solid season, which brings us to the finale.

The finale was fantastic and I loved every aspect of it barring one specific element. I think the showrunners made the right call by knowing what the show is good at and making a true lighthearted romp as the final two episodes. The heist is just too important a tradition for the show not to happen and it feels appropriate that the show ended on a grand heist. The finale did an incredible job incorporating so many guest stars seamlessly. I also loved that Gina got to come back in a substantial role in the finale. Given how big a part she was in the show, it was only right that she was there at the very end. Almost every key relationship got some great moments. Jake and Amy had some heartfelt moments, Amy and Rosa had a lovely moment, Jake and Charles had a great friendship moment. The only relationship I would have liked another scene with is Jake and Rosa, which is probably my favorite male/female friendship on any show. Loved that Terry gets to be Captain, which he deserves. But in the end, the heart of this show has always been the relationship between Holt and Jake. The final scene between them at the precinct is played completely straight and it absolutely brilliant acting from both Andre Braugher and Andy Samberg. It got me really teary and emotional. But wisely, the show ends on an upbeat note which makes you feel good that these people will always be in each other's lives. I also hope they use the notion of a heist to give us a holiday heist special every once in a while. I would love that.

The one element I don't like is Jake resigning and becoming a stay at home dad. Don't get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with being a stay at home Dad or Mom. It just doesn't make sense for me for Jake. I think everybody saw hints that he was going to leave the NYPD, and I was ok with that, and I love the fact that the show used Jake's want to be a father as the basis of his departure because that makes sense for him as a character, but I just don't seem him being happy just as a stay at home dad, no matter how sweet that sentiment is. Andy Samberg doesn't get enough praise with how he sells emotional sincerity, but just two episodes prior, Jake was moaning about how he was incredibly bored during his suspension and how he was desperate for interaction to the point of going to the Boyle house for distraction. On top of that, he admitted to being really bummed that he was unable to catch Franzia himself. It just doesn't seem like he would be happy being away from a life without investigations to keep his mind working. Investigating wasn't just something he did just to earn money, he genuinely loved it. I would have felt better if he said he was going to join Rosa as a PI or start his own PI business. Just a one liner saying that he would do something which would continue his passion while still being able to be there for Mac as a parent. It also gave me an uncomfortable callback to my least favorite episode of the show, Casecation, where Jake was mocked when he argued that having a child might compromise their jobs which they both loved and Amy argued that getting promoted would allow her more control over her hours. And now we are at the finale and Jake's argument was completely right and in the end Jake is compromising on his professional career for Amy. There is no doubt in my mind that Jake would have wanted to continue being a detective and a father were it not for the specific circumstances. Jake choosing his family and Amy is no surprise, but I doubt that would have been his preference. On a more practical note, it is not even remotely believable that a couple with a small child living in Brooklyn can survive on a single income, even if Amy is a Chief. I am absolutely certain that the original endgame was for him to join the FBI. They introduced that idea at the beginning of season 7 for a reason. I think it got torpedoed because of the rewrite of the season arc. I like to headcanon that Jake got back to doing investigating on some level because its a shame if he isn't able to use his natural talents to use.

Anyways, the season overall isn't the home run I hoped it would be but given the circumstances, they did a pretty solid job. It isn't necessarily the season I would revisit as much on rewatch but it still delivers the heart and humor that we love from the show. A 7/10 for me. Like Jake said, goodbyes are inherently sad but the show has had a good run and I am glad its getting to go out on its own terms. I will miss this cast together and I really hope they all find success and I can follow them to other films and tv shows. So lets give it up for the cast and crew. One last time, NINE-NINE!

#b99 #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn 99 #raymond holt #jake peralta #terry jeffords #amy santiago #rosa diaz #charles boyle #gina linetti #andre braugher #andy samberg #melissa fumero #terry crews #stephanie beatriz #joe lo truglio #chelsea peretti #peraltiago #b99 spoilers #pimento #teddy wells #joanna newsom

[keanureevesisbae]

sugar sugar - the planning 4.0

Summary: The two of them are coming back from their bachelor/bachelorette parties

Sugar Daddy!Henry Cavill x Becky Kim (asian OFC)

Warnings: Sex, blowjob, squirting

Wordcount: 2.3k

A/N: Their wedding is coming closer!

Masterlist // Sugar Sugar Masterlist // Sugar Sugar the wedding Masterlist // Previous chapter //

April 3rd 1 a.m.

This night seemed never ending, but it was kinda funny nonetheless. Seeing Genevieve live out her Magic Mike fantasy, made me turn into the Regina George’s mom of Mean Girls and film her as two attractive oiled up men were grinding up against her, while Viola kept screeching out of sheer awkwardness.

With a smile on my face, I walk into the apartment, only to discover an absolutely parched Henry on the couch. He takes a sip out of a water bottle, which is a rare sight. When he is drained like this, he usually needs a whiskey to feel better. ‘What happened to you?’ I ask, causing him to look up.

‘They pulled me into a strip club,’ Henry answers, his eyes tired and followed by a deep sigh.

They as in Greg, Noah, Gino and Peter. This must’ve been Genevieve planning the entire thing. ‘Me too,’ I chuckle. ‘Just so you know, your bare ass has my preference.’ I kick off my heels and straddle his thick thighs, before wrapping my arms around his neck. ‘You look like you’ve seen multiple ghosts over the course of the night. It couldn’t possibly be that terrible.’

Henry starts to laugh. ‘It was. I don’t think I have ever been this uncomfortable. I absolutely despised that place.’

‘Why?’ I ask him, undoing his tie a bit.

‘I had no idea they would take me there,’ he says. ‘And don’t get me wrong, those women were beautiful and good at their job, but I couldn’t stop thinking of you. It felt like borderline cheating to me.’

I don’t think I ever have to worry about Henry being unfaithful to me. Such a sweetheart. He continues to talk about the perverted types sitting there and how one guy even started to help himself a little, but because he is so busy talking, he barely notices I’m unbuttoning the top of his shirt, before taking off my thin cardigan, revealing only a light blue crop top.

Only when he finally manages to tear his gaze from the ceiling, he stops talking. ‘Oh,’ he says, leaning forward to press a kiss on my cheek. ‘This I like.’

‘I knew it,’ I say. ‘I’m the only one you want.’

‘Of course,’ he scoffs. ‘Why on earth would I want someone else?’

I shrug. ‘I don’t know. Just be honest with me. Didn’t it turn you on even a little? I mean, you told me yourself they were beautiful.’

‘Yeah, they were, but they didn’t turn me on,’ he says. ‘I mean, years ago it maybe would’ve, but now, you are the only one that can turn me on. Nobody and nothing beats your body, your kisses and your whimpers.’ He kisses my lips. ‘I love you and only you.’

‘Hm,’ I say with a smile. ‘I am probably the luckiest woman on the planet. I mean, I wouldn’t mind if you were turned on a little.’

‘Were you?’

I shake my head. ‘Oh no, I barely had time for that. I mean, besides filming Genevieve having the time of her life, I just admired certain dance moves. Damn, do those men know how to move those hips.’ I run my fingers through his hair. ‘And I know I said it before, but I’ll say it again: your ass is my absolute favorite and I prefer your hairy chest over those smooth oiled up ones I saw there.’

He starts to laugh. ‘Good thing your body is my favorite as well. No one can meet up to the standards you set.’

‘You’re so cute,’ I say to him with a chuckle. ‘Especially because you’ve spend an entire night at a strip club and now is the time where you grow a little excited.’

‘Teasing me, baby girl?’ he chuckles darkly, giving me a long kiss.

‘Maybe a little, it’s just that it’s the best way for you to give me a compliment.’ I step off his lap, before I unzip his fly. ‘Just relax, okay?’

‘Oh, sweetheart, I’m already relaxed,’ he says.

I sit on my knees in front of the couch, before I pull down his pants. He leans back, after he holds my hairs in his hand. I let my tongue run over his tip and he groans softly. The grip on my hair tightens and I look up, meeting his eyes, his teeth sunk in his bottom lip.

Deciding I’m not gonna tease him too long (he has had a long night), I slowly take more and more of him in my mouth. The tip of his cock hits the back of my throat, but thanks to the many secret blowjobs underneath his desk, my gag reflex is becoming less of a reflex now. He softly forces me down a little further and I let out a moan. The vibrations cause him to buck up his hips, leaving me to slightly gag on him.

‘Oh, shit baby, I’m sorry,’ he says.

I look up, drool dripping down my chin. ‘It’s okay, honey.’

‘Oh, it’s honey now?’ he asks cocking his eyebrow. ‘We’re not in public, so you better call me something else.’

I smile. ‘I’m sorry, daddy.’ My thighs are pushed against each other, as the heat gathers in my thong. Hearing him like this, feeling him bucking up his hips and the slight pulling on my hair. It does things to me.

When I release him with a pop, he softly pulls me up by my hair, before he presses a sloppy kiss on my lips. ‘Take off your clothes, baby girl,’ he says.

I quickly shred myself from the blue crop top that didn’t need a bra and the matching short. When my thong hits the floor, Henry grabs me by my waist, squeezing the soft flesh. ‘I love you,’ he whispers. ‘In around three weeks we’re married and you’re officially my wife.’

I can’t stop my faint blush. ‘We’re gonna get married,’ I say. ‘I can’t wait.’

He hoists me up and says: ‘Me neither.’ I expect him to take this to the bedroom, but he is too damn impatient, because he bends me over the back of the couch. Without a lot of preparation, he slides deep inside of me.

I try to gain some sort of stance, but my toes are barely touching the floor. He tightly grabs onto my hips. I push the palms of my hands in the cushions of the couch to hold myself up, as Henry rams himself roughly back inside of me. I bite my lip to stop myself from moaning out loud, but it earns me a harsh slap on my butt.

‘I need to hear you, baby girl,’ he grunts.

A strangled moan leaves my lips, before it’s followed by many loud moans that fill the living room. ‘Daddy, I’m close,’ I whine and I really wished I hadn’t said that, because he pulls out, leaving me nearly begging for more.

‘I know you’re gonna make a mess,’ he says, ‘since you always do so.’ He pulls me up and smiles. ‘We don’t want to ruin the couch, right?’

I shake my head. ‘No, we don’t.’

He carries me to the kitchen counter, placing me on the cold granite. He buries his member into my throbbing center, holding my chin in between his fingers. ‘So fucking beautiful,’ he mumbles. His thumb runs over my bottom lip, before he pulls me in a deep kiss. I open my mouth, our tongues so familiar with one another.

As his tip kisses my cervix every single time he thrusts in, it nearly forces a whiney moan out of me. He always goes deep, but it’s different this time. It feels so so different. ‘Daddy, you’re so deep.’

He smiles. ‘I know that, baby girl. You like that, don’t you?’

I nod, feeling myself flutter around him. ‘Can I cum?’ I ask, digging my nails in his shoulders.

‘Of course, baby.’

I throw my head back, as I squirt around him, indeed making such a mess. He knows me too well. As I ride out my high, Henry buries his face in my neck, sucking on the delicate skin there. I cry out, sensitivity taking over and my nails marking his back. He grunts as he paints my velvet walls from the inside, his fingers tips digging deep in my legs.

‘I’m sorry,’ I whimper, as insecurity takes over. ‘Daddy, I’m so sorry.’

‘What’s wrong, baby?’ he asks. ‘Tell me what’s wrong.’

‘I made such a mess.’ My legs are sticky, I know his legs are too and let’s just not say anything about the walls of the kitchen island.

‘Have I ever complained about that before?’ Henry asks with a cocked eyebrow.

I shake my head. ‘No.’

He cradles my face in his hands and whispers: ‘Then don’t you worry about it, okay?’

‘I’m sorry,’ I chuckle nervously. ‘I’ll try.’

Henry cocks his head, taking in every feature of my face. ‘Something’s bothering you?’ he asks me.

Maybe a little. ‘Not necessarily,’ I whisper.

‘You want to talk about it?’

I bite my lip. ‘It’s stupid.’

‘You could never say something stupid,’ he says. ‘How about a bath?’

‘Sounds good.’

✤ ✤ ✤

With my back against Henry’s chest, I stare at the ceiling in the bathroom. We’re engulfed in warm water and he finally asks: ‘So, what’s going inside your head, baby girl?’

‘Well,’ I say, ‘the other day it kinda hit me that… When you and I get married, there is a possibility for a divorce. You can exchange me for anyone you want.’

He wraps his arms around my upper body, pulling me closer to him. ‘And why would I do that?’

‘I don’t know. An opportunity?’

He gives me a kiss on top of my head. ‘I love you and only you, mrs Becky Cavill. I am not spending a lot of money on a wedding I know will fail. Heck, I wouldn’t even proposed to you if I wasn’t this serious about you.’

I sigh deeply, realizing worrying about this was absolutely nonsense. ‘I don’t even know what I was worried about.’

‘Just tell me these things, okay?’ Henry says. ‘I wanna be there for you.’

‘I promise,’ I say with a smile. ‘I promise.’

April 24th 9 p.m.

Tomorrow we’re getting married and these last few weeks have been kinda hectic. My dad is officially divorced, lives in a lovely house downtown and has yet to decorate his place, but with the wedding coming up and him actively wanting to help out, that just has to wait.

Genevieve and Viola never met my parents, but they are sure as hell absolutely mad about my dad. They continue to call him: ‘cute as a button’ and I almost feel like he is our dad, instead of just mine. Without the wedding band and my mom next to him, I realize that my dad is actually such a nice guy. We get along really well and he is dead set on improving our relationship, just like I am.

While I did suggest he’d walk me down the aisle, he found himself not worthy of it and though I told him he was, I still respect that decision.

We’re at our destination for our wedding. We chose Maui, Hawaii for a few reasons. One, the weather is great and two, my friends, Henry’s friends and my dad are gonna stay for a little vacation there, while Henry and I go to our private island to start our honeymoon.

I honestly couldn’t be more excited. Henry and I took all sorts of measurements, checking the venue, seeing if everything is alright and then, tomorrow: we’re gonna be husband and wife.

Henry has been reading his vows for at least fifteen minutes now, when he finally folds the paper and places it on the book that we’re taking with us tomorrow.

Leave it to Henry to book the most expensive room in the entire hotel, with a view to die for. My dad had his eyes on a little place, one he had been eyeing for so long. Henry arranged it for him, even making sure he had access to the pool and a taxi.

‘Baby,’ he whispers, when he wraps his arms around my waist. ‘How about a little love making? Last time before we’re husband and wife.’

‘Henry, we had sex today,’ I chuckle. ‘Aren’t you ever tired of me?’

‘No, never.’

I turn around in his arms and say: ‘I’d like to be able to walk down the aisle tomorrow.’

‘That’s why I said a little love making.’

‘How about you and I enjoy the jacuzzi?’ I suggest. ‘I’ll be naked.’

Within ten minutes we’re all set and done in the jacuzzi and I straddle his lap, before taking a sip of my wine. ‘So, when you and I are back from our honeymoon, what do you want to do?’ I ask.

‘I want to travel to some places with you,’ he says. ‘Go look for a new place for the two of us to live in. Get you pregnant.’

I snort. ‘Oh, how romantic.’

‘What?’ He starts to laugh. ‘I mean, it’s the goal eventually right?’

‘We could adopt a dog from the shelter,’ I say, ‘get a little practice in. I mean, a dog and a baby are not comparable, but still.’

‘I’d love that.’ He pulls me closer to him and gives me a kiss. ‘I’m just gonna say it now, but expect to hear this many many times. I can’t wait for you to be pregnant.’

I smile. ‘And why is that?’ I ask him. ‘So I’m even more helpless and you have to do more for me?’

He shakes his head. ‘No, because we made a baby together and are gonna have a family of our own. I mean, how amazing is it that we’re gonna be the Cavills, right?’

I squeal. ‘Oh my, that is so amazing. I cannot wait for that to happen either. I’m tempted to quit my birth control right now.’

‘What is stopping you?’

‘Well, I want to have a little bit more childless time with you,’ I say. ‘Just you and me, traveling the world.’

‘Sounds good, baby girl.’

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fandom #sugar daddy!henry cavill #sugar sugar #henry cavill x becky kim #henry cavill x asian ofc #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #asian ofc #becky kim

[angelvyxen]

“𝐈’𝐦 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐲, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲.”

In which you’re Melo’s best friend & ex he’s not over

“What do you think of this?” You asked Melo as you turned around. He was laying back on your bed, scrolling through his phone. He moved his phone to the side and peeked over at you, “It’s straight.”

“It’s straight?”

“Yea, you look good.” He nodded.

You huffed and made your way towards your closet to rework your fit for the night again.

“C’mon bruh, I said you look straight! Why you changing again?”

“Because just looking ‘straight’ isn’t good enough. I need to look... I need to look..” you trailed off, looking for a word that encompasses just how much of a bad bitch you wanted to be tonight. "I need to look like City Girl meets Megan the Stallion."

"My nigga, what?"

"Just know I need to look good, Melo. Okay? Reef is going to be there tonight and I need to make sure I have every little bit of his attention."

Melo rolled his eyes from across the room when you mentioned Shareef.

"Man, fuck that nigga." You heard him grumble which made you laugh, asking,

"What do you have against Shareef?"

"I don't have anything against dude."

"Yes, you do. You've been on him since I mentioned I like him." You stepped out of your closet and leaned against the door frame to look him in the eyes.

"He's a bitch." He shrugged before looking back at his phone.

"What do you mean?"

"What I said. He's a bitch and you don't need to be associating with someone like that."

You rolled your eyes, "Negro, please," and stepped back into the closet. “You gotta chill on him.”

“How you Shaq’s son and still ain’t made it to the league yet?”

“He had health issues Melo, you know that. Please don’t go that low just because you don’t like him for no good reason.”

Melo sucked his teeth and leaned back on your bed, focusing back on his phone. “I got numerous good reasons.” He grumbled to himself.

“What was that?” You asked, poking your head out of the closet again.

“Nothing man! Finish getting ready, we late cause of you.”

“Uh huh, whatever.”

You settled for something basic, but cute. A pair of black jeans, your favorite color way of the Jordan 1s Melo had gotten you for Christmas last year and a matching graphic tee with some jewelry to bump up the outfit.

“You look good.” Melo remarked, his eyes following you as he opened the passenger door of his jet black Rolls-Royce Cullinan for you. You were happy you got to spend today with him. Both of your schedules never seemed to align anymore since the season started for him and you started a new job.

“Thank you best friend.” You grinned as you slid into the passenger seat of his car. He shut the door and walked around the car, opening his door and sliding into his own seat.

You held out your hand and he placed his phone in it before starting the car. As he was backing out of the driveway you unlocked his phone and went to his Apple Music. You scrolled through his playlists until you came to your favorite one, ‘Vibes 🥵🤞🏼💕’. You plugged in the aux cord before hitting shuffle and set his phone down. ‘Get you’ by Daniel Caesar started to play a few moments later. Melo raised his brows before a wide smile spread across his face and he said loudly, “Oh say less! Whatchu tryna do?”

“Boy, what are you talking about?” You giggled as you looked at the goofy expression on his face.

“You playing my grown folks music playlist, you tryna start something?” He looked over at you.

“Ew,” you scrunched up your face.

“Man don’t act like you don’t want this body.”

“Boy bye. I would never.”

“Oh word, so you wouldn’t kiss me right now?” He puckered his lips at you.

You shook your head and looked in the other direction, “Nope.”

“Girl stop playing and give me them lips.” He gently gripped your chin, forcing your head to turn and started to lean in close. This wouldn’t be the first time you kissed Melo. The nature of you two’s friendship was different than most. The two of you used to date but decided after a couple months that you’d be better as friends. Since you were already comfortable with one another, doing boyfriend-girlfriend things weren’t awkward. Long hugs, cuddling, and occasional kissing weren’t anything to you when it came to him.

Before both of your lips touched the car jerked to the side which made you realize he was still driving.

“Focus on the road!” You said sharply as the car jerked back to the opposite side, making it centered in the road again. Melo was laughing the entire time and you hit him in his chest, “That wasn’t fucking funny. I’m too young to die.”

“Relax, you still alive. Aren’t you? Always overreacting.”

You rolled your eyes and faced front, crossing your arms over one another.

“Aye,” he reached over and gently flicked your cheek, “Fix your face. The shit isn’t that serious for you to be catching an attitude over.”

You pushed his hand away, keeping your eyes in front of you.

“Cmon man, don’t start this. We were just having a good time.”

You kept quiet and you heard him sigh loudly. A second later you felt a hand on your thigh, rubbing up and down.

“You wanna get some food later?” He asked, knowing that that phrase alone would get your attitude in check.

“What kind?”

“Del Taco?”

You unfolded you arms and Melo laughed, “You so fucking fat.”

“Aht, don’t fuck up nigga. I’ll catch my attitude all over again.”

He nodded, “Heard you. I take it back.”

“As you should.” You said as you picked up your phone to play some games to pass the time. You settled on temple run, tapping your nails against the screen as you waiting for the game to load.

You squealed excitedly when you saw a text from Shareef pop up at the top of your screen. Melo glanced over at you confused as you typed up a response.

“Who you talking to?” He asked, trying to see what was happening on your phone screen.

“Shareef.” You answered and almost instantly heard him suck his teeth. You ignored his clear distaste for your crush and asked, “He asked if I’m sliding through, do you think ‘Yea, can’t wait to see you’ is good or does that make me sound too eager?”

“How about you just don’t text the nigga at all or you text him no and we just don’t go to the party at all.”

“Melo,” you whined, “I really like him, can you set aside the hate you have for him, please? For me?”

“Why do you even like him so much?”

“Well he’s kind,”

“Any one can be ‘kind’. Next.”

“He makes me laugh,”

“That’s not a valid reason. Clowns can do that. Then again, he is a clown ass nigga so,” Melo shrugged his shoulders and you rolled your eyes, deciding to ignore the statement.

“He’s cute,”

“He look like a big toe.”

“Melo! No he does not!”

“Yes he do. And his teeth all crooked. He need some braces. In fact, remind me to give dude my dentist’s number.”

You rolled your eyes and continued to list your reasons,

“He listens to me,”

Melo sucked his teeth, “So I don’t listen to you?”

“Where did you even get that from? See, now you’re just pulling shit out of thin air to be mad about. What is your problem?”

“Nothing. I just think it’s wild how this nigga come into the picture and all of a sudden I’m getting wiped out of it.”

“Melo what are you talking about?”

“So we just about to act like you haven’t been texting or calling me as much? And we finna act like you don’t want to come see me no more cause you’re always with him?”

“That is not true.”

“Yes it is. Wasn’t it just last week I offered to fly you out to Houston to see my game and you said no cause you and that nigga was supposed to be hanging out all weekend?”

“Oh my God, you still mad about that? Grow up.”

“Grow up? So it’s just fuck my feelings now cause he here?”

“How am I supposed to get to know him if I’m always with you?! I can have a life outside of you LaMelo!” You raised your voice slightly as you started to get heated. You didn’t understand why he wasn’t happy for you, he was supposed to be your friend.

“Why do you even want to get to know him! Ain’t shit to know! He don’t do shit, he don’t have shit but his daddy’s money and a fucked up hairline anyways!”

“Okay, now you’re about to get me mad.”

“Oh me talking about your lil boyfriend make you mad? Man fuck him! It’s not like he’s about to wife you no how! He’s probably trying to hit it and quit it, it’s not like you hard to get at.”

You stared at him for a second, wanting to believe that he didn’t just say what he said out of spite of all things.

“Fuck you! Don’t be mad at me because you’re too attached to me to get your own girlfriend!”

“Oh, I’m too attached now? That’s what we going with?”

“Nigga that’s what’s been happening! You’re so jealous you can’t even let me be happy!”

The two of you pulled up in front of the house party and he stopped the car, leaned back in his seat and looked down at you.

“Alright shut the fuck up. You about to get me hot.”

“Now you want to be a pussy when I tell you the truth. Typical.”

“I said shut the fuck up bruh. I’m not tryna get mad at you.”

You turned towards him in your seat, “You know what your problem is? You can’t get over that lil relationship we had. You need to build a bridge and leave that shit in the past, it was never that serious.” You said. Deep down you didn’t mean it but he already took the argument too far by calling you an easy fuck.

His jaw clenched as he ground his teeth behind his closed lips and his brows furrowed ever so slightly, leaving a small crease in his forehead.

“Oh, so now you don’t got shit to say no more?” You questioned, looking up at him.

He picked up his key and phone, opened the door and got out of the car, slamming the door behind him. You watched as he was walked into the party leaving you behind. You blew out some air to calm yourself down before grabbing your things and getting out.

When you walked into the house you couldn’t spot Melo anywhere but your attention was quickly taken away from trying to find him when you felt an arm snake around your waist. You looked up at Shareef, a smile spreading across your face.

“Hey!” You greeted.

“Hey. You look good.” He replied, pulling you into a quick side hug. “Those shoes are fire.”

“Thank you.”

“I didn’t think you were coming still. You read my text and didn’t reply.”

“Oh! My bad I just.. I got distracted on my way here.”

“Uh huh. You came with your boy?” He asked referring to Melo.

“Yeah.”

“He just walked in here looking mad at the world. Y’all had an argument or sum in the car?”

Shareef started to walk you around the house, away from the main party.

“Something like that. We just didn’t see eye to eye on something.. can we not talk about him, I’m here with you right now, I want to focus on you.” You looked up at Shareef, smiling.

For the next couple hours you hung out with Shareef in the backyard by the fire pit. There were a couple chairs set up in a circle around it so the both of you made yourselves welcome. The two of you talked about any and everything, only leaving to go refill your drinks a few times throughout the night.

“So that’s why I decided to do indisciplinary studies instead of just majoring in one thing.”

You nodded as Shareef finished telling you about his college plans. You liked that he was so goal focused and not all of his goals in life pertained to having a career in the nba like his dad.

“So-” you were cut off by the sound of a familiar voice.

“Yo!”

Both you and Shareef turned to be met with his friend Josh Christopher who you’ve only met a handful of times, another 2 friends you didn’t know and.. Melo.. with a girl under his arm. They all had girls with them but Melo stuck out to you the most.

“Y’all mind if we sit?” Josh asked, already picking a chair and sitting down.

“Go ahead.” Reef said and you just smiled politely watching all of them sit and pull the girls they were with into their laps since there weren’t enough chairs.

You crossed your ankles, feeling uncomfortable as Melo took a seat directly across from you. You still felt tense about the argument the two of you had earlier but he didn’t seem to care much anymore as he was feeling up the girl, who wouldn’t stop giggling, in front of you.

Everyone started to talk as a group and you said a few things here and there but mainly kept to yourself.

“So, Reef,” Josh said getting everyone’s attention, “I don’t mean to be nosy or nothing.. but imma be nosy, what’s going on with you and her?” He nodded his head towards you.

“Whatchu mean?” Shareef laughed

“You know what I mean. Is that your girl? Is future Mrs. O’Neil in our presence?”

Shareef looked over at you, “You wanna be future Mrs. O’Neil?” He asked, a wide smile on his face.

You returned the smile and shrugged, “Maybe, maybe not. We’ll see.” You laughed. You managed to catch Melo’s glare as you turned your head. He had completely stopped giving the girl in his lap attention and his eyes were dead set on you as he wore the same expression he did in the car before he stormed out earlier.

You ignored his dirty look and him, looking back at Shareef as the two of you got back into your own conversation.

“Did I already tell you you look good tonight?” He asked as he moved closer to you.

“I believe you did.” You grinned, also moving closer to him. You had already shut Melo out of your mind.

“Well, just to let you know, you look good tonight.” He commented and you responded with a giggle, “Nah, but for real, you look good. I like your makeup and that shiny stuff you got on your lips.”

“My lipgloss?” You questioned, cocking a brow at the fact he acted as though he didn’t know what lipgloss was.

“Mhm. It smells nice. Like strawberries.”

“It’s strawberry flavored. Fun fact.”

“Does it taste like strawberries too?” He was getting very close to your face, you could almost feel his breath against you.

You leaned in, further closing the small gap between you two and whispered, “Find out.”

You were caught of guard when instead of feeling Shareef’s lips against yours you felt yourself getting pulled back and stood up. You looked back as you were quickly being dragged away from the group and of course, Melo was the one pulling you away.

He was facing the house so you couldn’t see his face.

“Melo! Let me go!” You struggled out, trying to yank your arm out of his grip, which only made him hold on tighter.

“Aye!” You looked back at the group, seeing Shareef stand up while everyone else looked amongst themselves in confusion.

Shareef grabbed your free arm making Melo stop and look back at him.

“Whatchu doing bruh? Let her go.” Reef said as he tugged you towards him.

“Imma give you 2 seconds to let go of her before I punch you dead in your shit.”

“I don’t want to fight you. We in public bro, just chill out and let her go.”

“One.”

“I know you her friend and all but you’re overdoing this shit. I know you’re not about to hit me in front of all these-”

Before Shareef could finish his sentence, one of Melo’s fists went flying at his face. Luckily, he dodged it but that didn’t stop Melo from swinging again.

“Melo! Chill out!” You placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back.

“Yo, go talk to your boy. He wildin’.” Shareef had already let you go by now.

“I will. Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be back.” You told him as Melo had already started pulling you away again.

“You won’t.” You heard Melo grumble as he pulled out through the back door of the house.

“Slow down!” You said as he brought you upstairs before opening a door and pushing you inside the room. The door closed and you heard a click as the door locked. He flipped on the light and you could now see he brought you into a bathroom.

You looked back at him, an angry expression on your face. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He didn’t respond as he backed you up into the counter behind you. He reached behind you and picked up a small towel and then grabbed your face. “What are you-”

“Shut the fuck up. Damn! You talk to much.” He cut you off harshly before starting to roughly wipe the lipgloss off of your lips.

“You got me all the way fucked up right now.” He continued to grumble as he flipped on the tap behind you and wet the towel before bringing it back to your lips and wiping again, “Do it taste like strawberries too? Find out,” he mocked, “I can’t believe your ass.” He grumbled as he continued to wipe.

You pushed his hand away from your mouth, “What is your issue?!”

“Don’t ask me no stupid shit like that. You know exactly what my issue is.”

“No, I don’t. I don’t see why you had to come and embarrass me in front of everyone like that.” You hit his chest which made him take a step back.

“I embarrassed you?” He said shocked, as if he wasn’t the one in the wrong.

“YES!” You said louder than you had intended for it to come out. You almost felt like crying thinking back on what had just taken place. “What is your issue today?! First you basically call me an easy hoe in the car and now this?! Did you even for a second stop to think about my feelings?!”

“No.” He shrugged, “Cause you never thought about mine. And don’t act like you didn’t say some foul shit too. Our relationship ‘was never that serious’ you remember that?”

“You can’t use that against me, you’re the one that started everything. I don’t understand why you can’t just be happy for me.”

“Be happy for you?” He made a face, “How do you expect me to be happy seeing the woman I love move on and rub that shit in my face? You want me to be happy about that? I tried to tolerate it but you want me to keep a straight face and act like it doesn’t bother me when you give another nigga attention the way you use to give me?” He stepped closer to you, now only a few centimeters separated both of your bodies, “You expect me to sit up here with a straight face as you’re about to kiss someone else? I admit, I was wrong for doing that in front of all those people but can you blame me?… I thought I could keep my shit together and be just friends with you but to be honest,”

He he cut himself off and picked you up and placed you on the counter, standing in between your legs and placed both his hands on either side of you before saying, “I didn’t want to break up to begin with. I’m greedy baby. Ion wanna share you with nobody.” His soft lips brushed against yours before capturing them in a warm kiss. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as your arms snaked around his neck.

His lips moved down to your neck, you moaned as you felt his teeth gently bite down on your skin while he kissed and sucked around the area. You already knew he’d leave a hickey. One of his hands started to creep up your shirt, gently tracing your stomach before making its way to your back and unhooked your bra. He pulled away from your neck and pulled your shirt off of you from the bottom, up and discarded it behind him before sliding each of your bra straps off your shoulders and tossing the bra on the floor like he did your shirt.

He placed his lips back on yours as his both of his hands started to fondle your breasts. He lightly squeezed the left one and pinched your right nipple with his other hand which made you squeal. He chuckled into the kiss and did it again, this time pinching both nipples harder than he had before which evoked the same sound from you.

“Be gentle, they’re sensitive.” You mumbled.

“I know,” he mumbled back, repeating the same action again, smiling as he watched you pull away from the kiss, throwing your head back slightly with your eyes shut tightly, “That’s why I like doing it.”

He brought you back into the kiss, moving his hands from your breasts (to your relief) and placed them by your sides. A moment later his hands got busy again, with his right one unzipping your jeans while the left one spread your legs further. His right hand snaked into your pants. You were dripping in anticipation, waiting to feel his fingers stroke your sensitive skin but instead he touched you from outside your panties. You felt his index finger rub your clit through the thin fabric and whimpered out needily, “Melo please,” you said breathlessly, breaking the kiss.

“Please, what?”

“Touch me.” It was torture having his finger so close but feeling so far.

Instead of doing what you asked oh so kindly for he removed his hand and went back to undressing you. He stepped back and grabbed one of your feet, untying one of your sneakers and setting it down on the ground before moving to the other one, untying the laces painfully slow. Once your sneakers were off he grabbed the waistband of your jeans and started to pull the article of clothing off of your legs. Once half your thigh was exposed he bent down and pressed a kiss on one of your thighs. “This was always my favorite part of your body.” He said quietly as he continued to pull your jeans down your legs. He pulled them off the rest of the way and let them fall to the ground after he pulled them off your ankles.

He refocused his attention back on your thighs, pressing a few, scattered, soft kisses on them as he inched back up towards your pussy. He licked your inner thigh, making you shiver before saying, “This,” he took his index finger and pressed it directly against your clit, “Is my second favorite part of you.”

Your hands grabbed the hem of your panties and tried to pull them down but he stopped you, lightly smacking away your hands and stood up straight once more.

“Melo..” you whined as you watched his lips stray farther and farther away from your pussy.

“Uh uh, no whining, you fucked up yourself.” He leaned in close, “What’s my one rule when we making love?”

“Not to touch myself.” You replied quietly, “But you were teasing.”

“That don’t matter my love.” He pecked your lips, “A rule is a rule.”

He pulled away and took off his shirt. You watched as his tanned abs and then his number 1 tattoo on his chest were exposed. He dropped his shirt on the ground and you took in his appearance for a second. His gold chains were shining under the light. You watched as he slipped off his shoes and then took a step back before waving you over and then pointing a finger down on the ground. You slid off the counter and got your knees in front of him. No words needed to be said, you knew what he wanted. You slid his slim-fit sweatpants down his legs. He made it easier for you by kicking them off his ankles.

You reached up, your hands feeling the bulge in his underwear. You looked up into his eyes, putting on your most innocent look face as your lips pressed against his tip through the fabric before you lightly drug your tongue against it. You could feel his hard on strain against the fabric as you did so. You, wanting him in your mouth already and too eager to continue teasing, pulled his underwear down his legs. His dick sprung out, almost hitting his stomach.

Your mouth hung open slightly as your eyes focused on all maybe 8 or 9 inches of his length. It throbbed slightly, some precum leaking out of the tip and down the base. Melo grabbed the base of his dick and guided it towards your lips, only needing to say “Open,” before you parted your lips and let him push each inch into your mouth.

You bobbed your head, guiding your tongue all along his length, outlining each vein, before moving it back to the tip, swirling it around. “Fuck,” he rasped out as his hands tangled in your hair, giving him a good grip on your head. He tried to push more of himself into your mouth but you stopped him, pulling back. “It can’t fit all in my mouth,” you said, using the time his dick was out of your mouth to catch your breath. “We’ll make it fit down your throat then.” He said as he pushed his shaft back into your mouth. When you felt his tip hit the back of your throat you gagged loudly to which he instructed, “Relax. Relax your throat.”

You did as he said, relaxing the best you could as you felt the tip of his dick move past the back of your throat and downward. You watched as each inch disappeared and your nose pressed against his stomach. “Good girl,” you heard him remark in a breathy moan. He pulled back again to let you breath before pushing his entire length down your throat once more. He got into rhythm, fucking your throat and guiding your head. It got sloppy quick, saliva dripping off of his dick and onto the floor and onto the both of you in the process. He thrusted down your throat one last time before cumming with a loud moan. You nearly choked as he came ropes down your throat without warning but somehow survived it without one gag. He pulled his saliva coated dick out of your mouth with a satisfied sigh and you swallowed the left over cum and saliva in your mouth.

He scooped you up and you felt yourself being set back on the counter. To your surprise he kissed you, rolling his tongue against yours as he slipped off your panties. Your juices had leaked through them and were starting to come down your legs. Something about sucking dick made you so horny. Melo’s head dipped down but you grabbed it, saying, “Just fuck me.” You didn’t even want head anymore. He did as you wanted, pressing his tip against your entrance before pushing in each inch of his dick slowly. You let out a satisfied moan, enjoying the feeling of having him back inside you after so long. He placed his head in the crook of your neck as his dick bottomed out inside you and you gripped his shoulders. You felt his lips brush against your ear before hearing, “It feels so good to be in my pussy again,” before he pulled out and thrust back in roughly, “And no other nigga better have been in it.” You let out a moan in response while shaking your head.

He fucked you like a mad man, thrusting in out of you faster and harder than you could comprehend. Your eyes started to subconsciously roll to the back of your head and your mouth hung open as a trail of endless moans left your lips. “You feel so good,” he whispered in your ear which set you off. You cleaned around his shaft, your nails gripped his back tighter and you started to cum all over his dick to which he responded with a groan saying, “You don’t know how good that feels,”

He fucked you on the counter for a few more minutes before you felt yourself getting picked up. Without missing a beat, or pulling out of you he switched your position, having you now bent over the counter. He gave your head him towards the mirror, “I want you to watch while we make love.” He leaned in close, switching the pass or his thrusts. “How does it feel?” He asked as he placed a kiss on your neck.

“I-it feels..” you struggled to get out, trying to keep your head up like he wanted.

The kisses moved from your neck to your cheek, “How it feel baby, talk to me.”

“It feels good.” You moaned out, “It feels so good daddy.”

“There you go,” he said as his thrusts picked up again. You let out another embarrassingly loud moan when you felt his fingers rub your very sensitive clit and he asked, “You love me? Hm?” Before feeling a kiss on your shoulder blade.

“Yes baby, oh my god, I love you so muchhh.”

He chuckled before using his free hand to face your face towards him. He pressed his lips against yours, trying to give you a kiss but you were moaning too much to kiss him back. He faced your head back towards the mirror, “You not letting no nigga take my place again, right?”

“Noo, never again,” you replied breathlessly before letting out another loud moan as you came everywhere once again.

“Good.” He placed a small peck on your cheek and let go of your head and moved his other hand from your pussy. He then gripped both of your arms and held them behind your back as he stood up straight and fucked you mercilessly.

——————————

I didn’t think I’d finish this today, but here I am, hours later lmao. I hope you all enjoyed. People have been asking me to do an imagine where Melo likes his best friend and they have sex for so long lmao so I hope this satisfied those anons.

Side note: imagine Melo telling you he doesn’t want to share you with nobody else but himself 😩

Please excuse any errors. I’m tired lol.

#dipsangelss #meloimagine #everything #softmelo

[hermannsthumb]

Town council Hermann vs Alien Conspiracy Newt please!!!

THIS WAS FUN!!! inspired both by this tweet and conversations abt a newt/herm AU of that tweet with @k-sci-janitor (who also thought of the funniest sign newt made in this fic, aka the cheekbones one, and what his tats should look like). this is long sorry :/ gets a little spicy towards the end but nothing worse than a high pg13/light M

----------------------------------------

The evening of the weekly town council meeting, it pours like nothing else. Which Hermann figures is really quite appropriate. Loathe as he is to soak his trouser legs, trudge through the mud that used to be his front walk, and hold his umbrella for so long his arm aches (for the community center is a mere half-mile walk away that Hermann can't justify substituting with a bus), he can't imagine council meetings happening in any other sort of weather. In fact, they rarely tend to; their dreariness seems to be a necessity, part of the preparation, as if to put everyone in as miserable a mood as possible.

Hermann hates council meetings. He supposes he'd be more sympathetic towards the plights of his constituents—if one can call one's neighbors constituents—if he'd wanted the damned job in the first place. As it is, he feels a bit like he was conned into it. Hermann had been a lowly physics professor at the local community college, passionate about public education and funding for public education and all those proper sorts of things an educator ought to be concerned about, when he suddenly found himself seized with the idea of making a difference. So he ran for a head position on the council. And he won it. Only no one told him that the council deals a lot less with public education and a lot more with noise complaints, cul-de-sac bake sales, and raccoons in dustbins, which makes why he ran completely unopposed all the more obvious.

A fat raindrop explodes against the edge of Hermann's umbrella and splashes his glasses. Hermann grits his teeth and wipes them dry with the cuff of his sweater. Bloody meeting; bloody rain; Hermann just wants to go back home, and fix up a nice pot of herbal tea, and set a blanket in the dryer for ten minutes, and...

"Dr. Gottlieb! Hey, Dr. Gottlieb, wait—!"

A blur in an oversized yellow raincoat hurdles itself at Hermann from the stairs of the community center. Hermann considers pretending he is a different Dr. Gottlieb, one who certainly has no reason to know maniacs in raincoats, or maybe high-tailing it in the other direction. This is the other reason why Hermann loathes council meetings: Newton Geiszler.

The unfortunate thing is that Newton Geiszler was, at one point, a respectable academic type, and in fact one of Hermann's own colleagues at the community college. (Hermann only found this out after the fact—he does not make a habit of intermingling much with the biology department.) And Hermann does mean was. Around a year ago, Geiszler was asked to temporarily step down from his position after he suddenly and unexpectedly went off the deep end. He has not been asked to come back yet. And not without reason. "Dr. Geiszler," Hermann sighs. "I've asked you not to lurk about here like that. It's...unsettling."

"Sorry, man, sorry," Geiszler shouts. He stomps over and makes himself at home under Hermann's umbrella. Hermann's not sure how he's been managing to see anything, let alone Hermann approaching down the sidewalk: his glasses are completely fogged-up and rain-splattered. "Do you mind if—thanks, dude."

Geiszler flips his hood down. He’s short, only coming up to Hermann's nose, with stubble nearly overgrown to a full beard and a mess of wet brown hair. He shakes that hair now, like a dog, soaking Hermann in the process. Hermann growls. "I beg your pardon,” he says.

"Oops,” Geiszler says. “Sorry. Anyway, Dr. Gottlieb, I'm really glad I caught you, there are—there are some things I wanted to tell you about. Before the meeting. They're—hold on." He rummages around in the deep pockets of his raincoat and produces a damp notebook, which he begins to flip through frantically. "It's about—"

"I know what it's about," Hermann says. Geiszler fumbles to push his glasses back up his nose. "In fact, there are some things I need to speak with you about as well."

"You've seen them?" Geiszler says in a hushed tone.

Hermann scowls. "I certainly have.”

They first started cropping up in the forest around the little cabin Geiszler calls home. Then, like dandelions or bamboo, they spread fast and far—to the town commons, in the front lawn of the coffee shop Hermann frequents, in front of his house. Whenever Hermann dashes one down with his cane or hauls one off to a rubbish bin, two more only crop up in its place. It's annoying, frankly. As if Hermann doesn't have to deal with enough already.

3 ALIEN ABDUCTIONS IN ONE WEEK - WHEN IS THE COUNCIL GOING TO DO SOMETHING?, the new one sitting in front of the community center says.

It's better than last week's sign, Hermann supposes. THE TRUTH IS OUT THERE - AND HERMANN GOTTLIEB IS BLIND TO IT.

"You know you need a permit for those, Dr. Geiszler," Hermann says. "Or, at the very least, the council's permission. They're a public nuisance."

"My signs are a public nuisance?" Geiszler shouts. Hermann flinches back. Geiszler may be compact, but if he doesn't have the shrillest voice on the whole damned planet. "Open your eyes, dude! A dozen people went missing last month! The only public nuisance is whatever's coming from—" He bites his lip and jabs his finger at the sky, as if saying anything remotely akin to outer space would suddenly send fleets of UFOs pouring down from above. "And you're just letting them walk right fucking in."

“I thought they were flying in?" Hermann says. He raps Geiszler’s shin with the end of his cane. "Do get out of my way, Dr. Geiszler. The meeting starts in ten minutes, and you're welcome to air all of your grievances then."

Geiszler is silent as Hermann ducks around him and ascends the community center ramp. For a moment, Hermann thinks he may have won this small victory, and then he hears the wet slaps of Geiszler's rain boots against the pavement behind him. "Really funny," Newton says. "Real fucking funny, dude. I bet it'll be just as funny when they come for you next!"

Hermann unlocks the door. Geiszler waves a stack of black-and-white polaroids beneath his nose. "I took these last week," Geiszler says, and begins flipping through them as frantically as he had his notepad. Each one is blurry and indistinct, like Geiszler snapped them through a gauzy curtain with shaking hands. Hermann's not sure what he's meant to be looking at. "The day that waitress went missing from the bus stop. And two nights after that—your neighbor, the one who went outside to let his cat in and never came b—"

"Enough," Hermann says. He pushes the polaroids away, knocking two to the ground, and Geiszler scrambles to pick them up before they're ruined. "Dr. Geiszler, it is undoubtedly tragic that these people have—er—vanished, as they have, but continuously insisting extraterrestrials had something to do with it, and furthermore—" Geiszler opens his mouth as if to argue, but Hermann raises his voice and pushes on. "—furthermore, that I'm meant to do something about it, is completely—well, it's unhinged, frankly. I'm not law enforcement. Or the mayor. Or bloody—NASA. What do you want from me?"

Geiszler stares at him for a long time. He pockets his photographs. "They're gonna come for you," he says, ominously. "Just like they did for me."

The meeting goes off as expected, which is to say, badly. Hermann gets shouted at by nearly everyone in town, many of whom blame Hermann and his presumed negligence for the disappearances over the past year as well (blessedly, they don't also blame aliens), though many more of them blame him for more trivial things such as the broken water fountain in the commons or the library's slow wireless internet. Hermann can't decide which is worse.

As it is, when the clock strikes eight, he's more than ready to go home. "Right," he announces, standing up and making a show of tidying his meeting notes. They're already tidy: Hermann's notes are always meticulous. He continues—rather quickly, in case someone gets bold and attempts to interrupt him, "Thank you all very much for such a, er, productive meeting. I'll make sure to pass along everything you've said to the appropriate people. If there's nothing else..."

Geiszler jumps to his feet. A few people groan; Hermann has a feeling they're just about as sick of him as Hermann is. "Um, yeah, actually, I want to add something."

"No," Hermann says. “Dr. Geiszler, please, we can talk—”

"When we were outside," Geiszler continues anyway, raising his voice, "you asked me what I wanted you to do. Well, I just want you to listen to me! That's all! I have so much proof—so much I can show you—and you won't even—!"

"Proof?" Hermann says. "Your rubbish photographs?”

"It's not just the photographs! It's other stuff, too! Like—" Geiszler lets out a long, angry huff of air, and actually balls his fists up at his sides. Hermann has never seen him so incensed, not even when he accused Hermann of being an alien himself during a council meeting last summer. "Look, just come to my house and I'll fuckin' show you. Or are you that afraid of being—I don’t know, proven wrong?"

Part of Hermann is convinced that if he follows Geiszler out to his isolated cabin in the middle of the woods, it'll be the last thing he ever does. At the very least, he certainly has no desire to spend more time with Geiszler than he's already forced to. Yet—on the other hand—Hermann does not appreciate the challenge, nor does he appreciate being made to look like a fool by the man who chairs the local paranormal society. "Fine," he snaps, and Geiszler startles in obvious surprise. "Fine, you wretched little man. I’ll let you show me whatever proof you think you may have, so long as you take every single one of those signs down."

"Um," Geiszler squeaks. He clears his throat. "D—deal?"

Hermann seizes his cane and thrusts his chair back under his table roughly. "Well?" he says to the rest of the hall, none of whom have budged since Geiszler began shouting his head off. He scowls at the lot of them. "The meeting is over. You can leave."

It's Hermann's job to shut down the building each week, so he waits for the very last stragglers to toss out their paper water cups, shrug on their raincoats, and file outside before switching off the lights and locking up. He finds Geiszler lurking by a rather worse-for-wear green VW Beetle at the curb, the hood of his raincoat flipped back up over his hair. Hermann desperately hopes that the car isn't Geiszler’s. He is Hermann’s ride home tonight, after all. "I took the signs down," Geiszler says in a rush. "All of the ones around here, anyway. I'll have to do the rest tomorrow." He jerks his thumb at the backseat of the Beetle, where Hermann sees a haphazard pile of some of the 3 ALIEN ABDUCTIONS signs. His heart sinks. The X-Files bumper stickers should've been a dead giveaway, really.

"Thank you," Hermann sighs. "Well, let's get this over with."

"The heat is busted, so you might wanna leave your coat on," Geiszler says apologetically when Hermann manages to squish himself into the passenger's seat. The floor is a sea of empty Dunkin' Donuts cups, stacks of pulp science (or, if Hermann were to be less kind, pseudoscientific) magazines spanning back at least half a decade, and a pin-littered linen tote bag filled to the brim with boxed Annie's macaroni and cheese.

"Uh, sorry," Geiszler says. "I had to run some errands earlier. You can just—toss that in the back. Yeah."

The ride is short but bumpy, and though the removal of Geiszler's shopping bag offers Hermann more leg room, there is nothing that can make up for his tragically awful driving and his tragically awful CD collection. Hermann almost bolts from the car when they finally pull up at Geiszler's ivy-shrouded cabin, so relieved to have made it there in one piece that he's all but forgotten that he must now spend the rest of the evening with Geiszler, too. He remembers soon enough: another duo of aggressive signs have been pounded into Geiszler's mossy front path, TURN BACK NOW - ALIEN ABDUCTION ZONE, and a rather good sketch of Hermann beneath WHAT ARE THOSE CHEEKBONES HIDING? "That one's from the summer," Geiszler says sheepishly, kicking down the latter with the toe of his boot. "I keep forgetting to take it down. I don't still think you're an alien, by the way."

"Er, thank you," Hermann says. "I suppose?"

"They wouldn't be that obvious," Geiszler says, emphasizing the they with a meaningful glance up at the night sky.

"Of course not," Hermann says.

He's not quite sure what he expected Geiszler's house to look like. Some sort of—conspiracy nutter's den, perhaps, with aluminum foil hats and deconstructed radios and elaborate photoboards full of thumbtacks and red string. Or the interior of his car on a larger scale, with empty takeout containers and crumpled up papers on every surface. He's...sort of right. There's a noticeable lack of tinhats, but there are plenty of (modestly-sized) corkboards on the walls and multiple coffee cups peeking out of a recycling bin. The rest is merely precisely what Hermann would expect from an academic in his 30s: books, and mis-matching furniture, and a sink of dishes begging to be washed. It's...a bit disappointing, frankly. Though Hermann is rather impressed with the sleek telescope angled in front of the back slider door. Impressed, and envious. It's a very nice model.

"Make yourself at home," Geiszler says, unzipping his voluminous raincoat and tossing it, along with Hermann's, over the back of a worn armchair. He's wearing a pair of torn skinny jeans and a band t-shirt that reveals his heavily tattooed, and deceptively shapely, arms. Hermann tears his eyes away and forces himself to sit down at one end of Geiszler's couch. "I'm gonna make us some coffee. Do you want any sugar or non-dairy creamer?"

"No, thank you," Hermann says. "I don't drink coffee this late. It'll keep me up all night."

"Well, I hope so, that's kinda the plan,” Geiszler says. He rolls his eyes. “The aliens never come before at least midnight. Soy milk or almond milk?"

Hermann thinks, briefly and longingly, of his nice warm bed, the blanket he intended to toss in the dryer, and the herbal tea he won't be having after all. "Almond milk?" he hazards.

Geiszler stares at him in evident disgust. "Dude, I was kidding. You know how bad that shit is for the environment? It takes, like, a fuckin' thousand gallons of water or something like that for one carton of almond milk. It's insane. I mean, I guess it's still less water than what dairy needs, but there are plenty of better options."

"Oh," Hermann says. Hermann drinks skim milk. "I'm sorry. Er. Soy milk?"

As Geiszler fixes them mugs, Hermann begins to poke around some papers scattered across the coffee table. One is a list of names and dates, seemingly random, Hermann thinks, until he recognizes (scrawled in purple ink at the very bottom of the page) that of the gentleman who disappeared from his back porch just down Hermann's street. When he recognizes another—a teenager who worked as a barista at Hermann’s favorite coffee shop—he realizes it must be everyone who's vanished from town in the past year. Another paper has the same dates repeated, though not alongside any names—rather, bizarre little phrases like circling lights and that sound again. "You found my notes," Geiszler says cryptically, and then thrusts a mug out to Hermann.

Hermann takes the mug. A logo on the side tells Hermann it was from some academic conference in California ten years ago. "What are they supposed to mean?" he says.

Geiszler snorts. "Uh, I thought it was kind of obvious. Look—" He sits next to Hermann, far too close, and points at the column of numbers on the first page. "These are the dates when people have been reported missing," he says, and then scans his finger over to the second page, "and these are the dates when I've observed extraterrestrial—or at least, unexplainable—activity overhead. See how they match up almost perfectly?

"Mm," Hermann says. He does not. "So—if I am to understand you correctly—you believe that a, ah," he takes the page back from Geiszler, "a 'weird swoopy sound' from overhead had something to do with that poor young woman disappearing from a bus stop last week?”

"It wasn't just a weird noise!" Geiszler exclaims. "I showed you the pictures. I ran outside when I heard it, and thank fuck I had my camera, because I caught those lights just as they were leaving. And then what do I find out the next morning? There was another abduction, at almost the exact same time I saw the lights!"

"Ten miles from here," Hermann reminds him. "It would've had to have been a bloody fast ship."

"Yeah, no shit, Hermann," Geiszler says. "They're, like, fucking—mega-advanced lifeforms. They probably have the tech to vaporize the entire Earth if they wanted. Of course it was a fast ship.”

Geiszler is still sitting awfully close to Hermann. He runs very warm, unlike Hermann, warm enough to make Hermann warm too—like a scruffy, tattooed, freckled furnace. Yes, freckled, for Geiszler has the lightest dusting of freckles across his round chipmunk-like cheeks that Hermann finds inexplicably charming. He wonders if Geiszler would notice him loosen his collar a bit, perhaps take off his sweater. He really is getting quite warm. "So, I was saying," Geiszler continues, and though he speaks almost directly into Hermann's ear, he sounds as if he's a mile away from him. "Waitress at bus stop—weird lights over my cabin—waitress gone from bus stop. The proof is, like, undeniable!"

"Indeed," Hermann says.

He undoes the top button of his collar. He hasn't touched his coffee yet—he wonders if Geiszler even cares. The tattoo on Geiszler’s bicep, some sort of space tentacle monster, stares back at Hermann. "I'm telling you, man," Geiszler says, "this is no joke. They're taking people, maybe even for good."

They're gonna come for you, just like they did for me. When Geiszler began spouting nonsense about aliens last year, he was not booted from the biology department right away. Mostly everyone at the college, Hermann knows, tolerated his eccentricities on account of his admittedly brilliant mind and popularity among the students. The final straw came when Geiszler's extraterrestrial delusions (for what else could they be?) reached a new level: he showed up to campus in his pajamas one morning, raving that the aliens were not only zooming about over his house, but had actually abducted him the previous evening. "You seemed to fare alright, though, didn't you?" Hermann says. "When you were—ah—taken? They even dropped you back off in time for work. Quite courteous, I should think."

"That's—" Geiszler begins to shake his leg up and down, nervous energy radiating up his body and through Hermann's. He spills some of his coffee on the carpet. "That was—that was dumb. I got lucky. I think I was one of the first ones, you know? Because the disappearances didn't really get bad until, like, a month after that? I was in bed—and, and it wasn't like how it is in movies, I wasn't sucked up in a giant beam of light or anything like that, one minute I was there and then the next I wasn't, I was somewhere...else. And—uh. I don't really remember what they looked like. I tried to—sketch them out, but it was like trying to remember a dream, all the specific details about them just faded once it was over. But, um." He rubs the back of his neck, and Hermann is surprised to see him blushing. "Well, if I'm being honest, I think I kinda freaked them out."

Hermann can't help but snort. "You what?"

"I'm serious!" Geiszler shrieks. "I freaked them out. I was just really excited about it all. Like, dude, come on, I was abducted by aliens. How fucking cool is that? I just kept asking a bunch of questions, like, are you gonna probe me? are you gonna take me back to Mars or Jupiter or, like, I don't know, fucking Gallifrey? do you even understand what I'm saying, how do you communicate? and then the next thing I knew, I was landing on my ass in the school parking lot. They must've been observing me like I was observing them, like, they maybe knew I worked there? Anyway—" He shakes his head. "I tell you what, I'm real glad I decided to not just wear boxers like usual to bed that night. That would've been really embarrassing."

Bombarded with the sudden mental image of what Geiszler usually looks like in bed, Hermann (feeling rather warm again) tugs at his collar and clears his throat. He has certainly seen more than enough for the night, and if his mind is straying to something as prosaic as what does Dr. Geiszler look like half-naked?, it likely means it’s time for bed. "Er, right. Dr. Geiszler—"

"Just call me Newt, man," Geiszler says.

"Newton," Hermann concedes. It gives him a private little thrill. No one calls Newton Newton; it’s always either Newt or Dr. Geiszler. "Newton,” he says again, “this has been a very—illuminating—evening, but it's getting rather late, and I think you ought to drive me home before—"

And then Newton begins to take off his shirt.

Yes, a small part of Hermann's brain whispers traitorously, yes, yes, yes, even as Hermann recoils and stammers out, "Newton, what—?!"

"Oh, calm down, I'm not coming onto you," Newton says. He drops his t-shirt on the floor and jabs a thumb at his chest. His bare chest. "See, look. Proof."

Hermann's not sure what he's meant to be looking at. The giant Godzilla tattooed over Newton's pectorals? The flying saucer tattooed above Newton’s belly button? Newton’s nipple piercings? Hermann thinks he understands what an overheating computer feels like, an influx of too much information with processors unequipped to handle it. "I," he says. Newton’s belly button is not pierced. Hermann’s not sure why he thought it would be.

"Look at my chest, dude!" Newton says, tapping his skin insistently.

It takes Hermann a great deal of effort to pull his eyes away from the nipple piercings. In the dead center of Newton's chest, spaced perfectly between his pectorals and right over the nostrils of Godzilla, is a strange, almost luminescent glyph of a language Hermann can't begin to recognize. It's raised from Newton's skin, more like a brand than a tattoo. And...well, when Hermann says luminescent, he really means it. The squiggle seems to glow blue. "This was on me the next morning," Newton says. "I think they marked me. Like you'd tag a lab rat?”

Hermann can't help himself: he reaches out and touches the mark. "Strange," he murmurs. Compared to the heat of Newton’s body, the glyph is quite cool. Frigid, in fact, like metal, and yet as soft as the rest of his skin.

He's close enough to Newton to hear the hitch in his breath when they make contact, and as he traces his fingertips over the glyph, he can feel Newton's heart pounding beneath them. Strange, indeed; Newton has been such a thorn in his side for so many months, and yet all Hermann wants to do now is touch even more of him. He trails his hand lower, down to the flying saucer on Newton's soft abdomen. Newton inhales sharply. "Um," he says. "Should—should I put my shirt back on?"

"Do you want to?" Hermann says.

"Not really," Newton says.

He stares at Hermann, eyebrows knit together behind his glasses, like he can't seem to make sense of him. His confusion is very much warranted; Hermann can’t seem to make sense of himself right now, either. Then, to Hermann's supreme annoyance, the pieces seem to click into place in Newton's mind, and he grins. "Oh, duh," he says. "No wonder. You wanna fuck me, don't you? That’s why you’re so obsessed with me.”

That would certainly explain the strange warm feeling that comes over Hermann sometimes when he thinks about Newton in the dead of night that he has, up until this very moment, attributed to bouts of temporary insanity and/or a latent murderous desire. Nothing so dramatic as all that, then—just regular human biology. Urgh. How disgusting. And for Newton, of all people. “Obsessed with you?” Hermann sniffs, desperate to retain some element of propriety even while he begins to tug at Newton’s button fly. “Newton, you have spent thousands of dollars on yard signs just to invite me over for a coffee.”

“Uh, yeah, and it worked,” Newton says.

He curls his fingers in the front of Hermann's sweater, thumbing over one of the buttons.

“Even when I thought you were an alien,” Newton says, “I still kiiiiinda wanted to fuck you.”

Delusional or not, Newton looks terrifically good with a beard.

"Wait," Hermann gasps some time later. "Newton, stop a moment—"

Newton pulls away from him, frowning. He pushes his glasses back up on his nose. "What is it?" he says. "Did I hurt—?"

But Hermann pats at his shoulder frantically, pointing beyond him at the back slider and the dark of the forest beyond that. Newton cranes his neck around. "Only I'm sure I saw something. Lights, or…” Hermann feels a small twinge of embarrassment. The night is dead silent, and dead still. “Well, now I'm not sure."

“You probably imagined it," Newton says. He slips back down to press a kiss at Hermann's jaw. “It’s too early to be them.”

Not even ten yet. Newton kisses behind Hermann’s ear. It feels very nice. "Yes," Hermann agrees slowly, his eyelids flickering shut. He smooths his hand up and down Newton’s back. "Yes, I suppose you're right." Newton’s stories must have left him on edge. Which is of course ridiculous, because they’re all a load of rubbish—there may be extraterrestrials somewhere out there in the great wide universe, but they’re certainly not swooping down and plucking up hapless test subjects from Earth, let alone their small town, every other day. Hermann has much more important things to concern himself with right now, like how it feels when he threads his fingers in the soft strands of Newton’s hair, or the sound Newton makes when Hermann digs his nails into his skin, or how wonderful kissing Newton is...

And, unobserved by both of them, the three lights hovering above Newton's cabin blink away as quickly as they'd come.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag

[flipomatic]

Perfectly Ordinary

Summary: Oh, they were going to take a break. That was fitting, since Ayaka was doing the same. Maybe, and this was a stretch, maybe they could take their break together. Getting lunch in town was a normal thing to do, and doing it with a friend would be even more ordinary. Especially if that friend was Lumine.

“I, um.” Ayaka started to speak, then hesitated as Lumine’s eyes snapped to her. There was a weight to that stare, a question that Ayaka couldn’t fully understand. “Would you like to join me around the city? I do not need to be back at the complex for another hour.”

Author Note: I just finished Ayaka’s first character quest and I needed to write something for them.

Word Count: 2300

__________________________________________________________

As the sun filtered in through the window, shining high in the sky, Ayaka carefully signed another document. She’d been working since it first peeked over the horizon, preparing for a large upcoming festival. This was one she wouldn’t be able to attend, as she was responsible for supervising the event. That was unfortunate; ever since her first festival she’d longed to go to another.

The thought of inviting Lumine hovered in the back of her mind as well, of sharing the festival with her if she could. She’d seen the traveler a few times since then, bustling up and down the hills with Paimon in tow. Lumine was always helping someone, always smiling, selfless, and kind; that was what Ayaka liked about her. The way she stepped up for others was inspiring.

Ayaka hadn’t read a single word in the last few minutes, lost in her own thoughts, so she shook her head to snap herself out of it. Those were musings for another time, when she didn’t have work to do. She went back to the top of the form, re-reading it to make sure it was correct.

It would reflect poorly on the Kamisato name if the festival went badly. It was important to get this right. They would need to source lumber for building stalls, which this document would arrange. She just needed to check the numbers.

As Ayaka continued to read though, she was soon again distracted by a beam of light cast from the window. It moved slowly throughout the day, and now cast its light directly on her desk. Again, she found herself pausing in her work, this time to raise her hand into the beam.

Ayaka stopped herself; this wasn’t what she was supposed to be doing. The longer she worked, the more easily distracted she became.

Perhaps it was time to take a break.

She’d worked hard all morning, after all. It wouldn’t hurt to take time for lunch and besides, she’d be more focused later. That was what Ayaka told herself as she pushed her chair back and stood, stretching out her back in the process.

It would be nice to get out, to do more ordinary things. Ever since the festival she’d been trying to go more often, to walk around town and interact with others. Maybe she could even make new friends. Ayaka wanted to do more and more normal things, along with her duties to the clan and the people. It was a balance she was still trying to find.

With the sun out today, and work that would be best done later, it was a good time to try. Ayaka stepped out around the curtain that divided her space, to where Thoma was working. He had his head down, hand moving quickly as he composed a document. His eyes came up as Ayaka approached.

“What can I do for you?” Thoma asked, pausing writing and setting his quill down.

“I will be stepping out for the next hour.” Ayaka declared smoothly, leaving no room for objection. Not that she thought Thoma would, of course. “Please continue preparing for the festival.” That would alleviate some of her guilt for delaying her work.

Thoma merely smiled up at her. “Alright, have fun out there.” He added a wink on the end, though Ayaka didn’t understand why. There wasn’t anything particularly fun happening in town today, just the regular running of businesses and movement of people.

Ayaka nodded back at him, deciding not to ask for clarification. If there was something amiss, she would find out when she left. She turned away from Thoma and walked out of her quarters, then through the Kamisato complex.

Within a minute she was out of the building and strolling down the path towards the center of town. There were a few people out today, but no more than usual. They moved up and down the paths along with her, passing by without incident. She wondered what Thoma had been talking about; everything seemed normal so far.

It was warmer out in the sun, but just slightly. The weather was mild, an ideal temperature for walking around town. It had been cold this morning, so Ayaka was glad to feel the change.

As Ayaka reached the merchant stalls, the crowd thickened slightly. At least ten people were gathered in the center of the path, watching something that Ayaka couldn’t see. They all had their backs to her, blocking her view. This was concerning, especially if there was a problem. She might need to step in, but first she had to find out what was happening.

When Ayaka reached their backs she could hear the sound of clashing metal, along with a very familiar voice. Immediately Ayaka relaxed. If she was here then that meant…

“He’s going up!” The high pitch voice called. “Don’t let him get away!” That voice could only belong to one individual. To the left side, over the heads of the bystanders, a treasure hunter had appeared. He was climbing one of the stalls, trying to quickly scurry up the fabric side of it.

“On it.” The reply, from a much calmer voice, sent a trill down Ayaka’s spine. She was here. A gust of wind swept under the treasure hunter, who yelped as he was dislodged from the stall.

Ayaka stepped to the side, trying to move around the still growing crowd. One of the people near the back seemed to notice her, which caused him to quickly apologize and step away so she could pass through.

On the other side, the fight had already ended. Lumine stood over the fallen treasure hunter, sheathing her sword. Paimon flew over to her, chattering about how well the fight had gone. A guard stepped forward to take the treasure hunter into custody.

Every time she saw Lumine, Ayaka felt something strange in her chest. It was something like warmth, or perhaps burning; despite all the words in her vocabulary she wasn’t sure how to describe it.

She felt it now, searing through her as Lumine looked over with slightly widening eyes, and then a stunning smile. Ayaka couldn’t help but smile back.

The crowd around her had started to disperse, with a few people stepping forward to talk with Lumine. They pulled her attention away from Ayaka, who stepped aside to wait for a chance to speak with the traveler.

The citizens shook Lumine’s hand profusely, before loading her arms with a pile of flowers. After a minute they left as well, clearing the road for passage once again. Lumine carefully tucked the flowers into her bag, where they somehow fit easily.

Ayaka closed the distance between them, extending a polite greeting despite her excitement. “Good afternoon.”

“Hi Ayaka! It’s good to see you!” Paimon returned the greeting loudly, while Lumine nodded back. A small smile was present on her lips.

“You as well.” Ayaka looked between the pair as she stopped in front of them, eyes settling on Lumine. “What brings you to Inazuma city today?” It had been a while since she’d seen them.

“The usual, just out saving the world.” Paimon replied, drawing a chuckle from Lumine.

They certainly were, at least that’s how Ayaka viewed them. “You did a wonderful job with that treasure hunter.” Ayaka could’ve sworn that Lumine’s cheeks dusted pink at the compliment, but perhaps she imagined it.

“All in a day’s work.” Paimon spun in the air, flipping to Lumine’s other shoulder. “I think we’ve done enough for now, what do you think?”

“You’re right.” Lumine looked up at Paimon while she responded.

Oh, they were going to take a break. That was fitting, since Ayaka was doing the same. Maybe, and this was a stretch, maybe they could take their break together. Getting lunch in town was a normal thing to do, and doing it with a friend would be even more ordinary. Especially if that friend was Lumine.

“I, um.” Ayaka started to speak, then hesitated as Lumine’s eyes snapped to her. There was a weight to that stare, a question that Ayaka couldn’t fully understand. “Would you like to join me around the city? I do not need to be back at the complex for another hour.”

Lumine’s eyes softened, and Paimon answered for her as she often did. “That sounds great!” Lumine nodded, marking her agreement. “Where are you headed?” Paimon asked next.

There wasn’t really an answer to that. “Nowhere in particular.” Ayaka felt embarrassed for a moment, that she was out with no goal in mind, but reminded herself that this was Lumine. They had shared the journal and the festival together; she wouldn’t judge her for this. “Just getting some lunch and walking around.”

“How about dango, there’s a great stand down that way.” Lumine pointed down the hill, where the next area of stalls were set up.

“That sounds perfect.”

With that decided, the three turned to walk in that direction. Ayaka asked about the treasure hunter they apprehended earlier while they moved, and then listened as Paimon recounted the tale of how they caught him. Lumine cut in occasionally, providing corrections to Paimon’s exaggerations. They were a funny duo, playing off each other in this way.

It was a long story, that was just wrapping up as they reached the dango shop. “And then, he tried to run. That’s when you arrived!”

“He didn’t get far.” Lumine added dryly as they stopped in front of the dango shop. There were a few different choices today.

Each of the three ordered a different type of dango, which they received after a few minutes. They turned to walk back up the path while they ate, back up the hills towards the complex.

Paimon flew slightly ahead, quiet as she was engrossed in her meal. Ayaka and Lumine walked side by side behind her, each carrying their stick of dango.

“How’s it been going, doing ordinary things?” Lumine asked, the side of her right arm brushing Ayaka’s left one slightly. She carried her dango in her left hand.

“I am enjoying them, especially when you are here.” Ayaka responded honestly, before taking another bite of her dango. She had the stick in her right hand, where it was easier to eat from. She was distinctly aware of how their two empty hands nearly touched with each step.

Lumine only had a couple dango left. “Where should we go next?” They still had about half an hour until she needed to be back at the complex.

“Let’s just walk. That is a normal thing to do, right?”

“It is.” Lumine nodded, smiling over at Ayaka. Her eyes carried a welcoming warmth, the kindness Ayaka adored.

As they reached the stalls where Lumine had fought earlier, again there seemed to be a crowd gathered. This time they were watching some kind of a magic show, being performed in front of a stall. The crowd filled most of the path ahead.

When Ayaka felt a gentle touch on her left hand, she nearly froze everything three feet around her. Only the knowledge that Lumine was next to her prevented her from doing so. When she looked down, she saw that Lumine’s hand had carefully grasped hers, gently encompassing her fingers.

“It’ll be easier to stick together this way.” Lumine said, tugging softly to guide Ayaka around the crowd. She called once after Paimon, who was drifting towards the show.

Ayaka allowed herself to be pulled, still too surprised to so much as protest.

It was just hand holding, something friends did. Ayaka knew this, but it didn’t feel normal, the thundering of her heart so loud she was sure Lumine could hear it. The pulse of heat up her neck urging her to both pull away and hold on as tight as she could.

They quickly weaved around the crowd and back onto the path, but Lumine didn’t let go. Instead, she readjusted her hand so that their fingers were more closely intertwined. Lumine turned to her with a smile. “I’m glad I didn’t lose you.” Paimon, who had fallen behind, shouted at them to wait for her.

This was a perfectly ordinary behavior, and yet Ayaka’s heart was racing.

“That makes two of us.” She tightened her hand without thinking about it.

The two continued up the path, finishing their dango as they walked. It felt different than before, but Ayaka could get used to this. Her heart had largely settled, leaving a steady thrum of electricity under her skin. Lumine’s hand was pleasantly warm in hers.

When they reached the complex, it was time to part ways. About an hour had passed and Ayaka promised to be back by then. She reluctantly released Lumine’s hand so she could address the pair.

“We should be back by next week.” Paimon said, no longer angry about having been left behind.

“Please do come by when you are, we must do this again.” Ayaka’s eyes were locked onto Lumine’s as she spoke, hoping to convey her genuine feelings.

“We will, I promise.” Lumine asserted firmly, eyes steady and certain. She held eye contact for a moment, and Ayaka wondered if she had something else to say. Then, as if breaking a spell, Lumine turned away. “Let’s go, I think I heard a rumor at the dango shop.”

“Aye aye!”

For a few seconds, Ayaka watched them go. Her hand felt empty now, after all that time.

As she went back inside, she wondered if she should keep a journal. It wouldn't be like the one her mother wrote, but instead would capture the incredible things she experienced. These ordinary things she’d been doing were certainly turning out to be quite extraordinary.

Especially if she kept doing them with Lumine.

#ayaka x lumine #lumine #kamisato ayaka #lumine genshin impact #genshin fic #genshin fanfiction #idk how to tag this #fluff #hand holding #it's cute #i enjoyed the character quest #so freaking much #i just had to #flip writes

[archiepudding]

Confession | Dom!Dabi x Reader [Part 1]

Pairing: Dom!Dabi x Fem!Reader (Minors do not interact!)

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, smut, chocking, slapping, quirk play, sadism, panic attacks, assault, dubcon

Notes: Your quirk is telepathy. Anything written in ‘bold and italic’ is the character’s thoughts. [Not necessarily all from the quirk]

Smut section will be in the second part.

Summary: Following one of your shifts at the bar, you end up facing a little trouble. Who knew Dabi was the sentimental type.

Part. 2

11:23 PM                 27th April

You weaved in and out of the mindless bodies dancing, sweat lingering with the humidity of the club. Empty glasses and bottles were strung all over the tables, you collected as many as possible and balanced them on a tray. You emerged back behind the bar, the glasses being placed on the counter ready to be put through the wash. You look to your left to find Naomi, one of your collegues, flirting with one of the customers. She was always the center of attention, not that I could say I minded. 

“Another round of beer for booth 4" You hear from behind you. You look back at Naomi who was completely unfazed by what your boss had just called out to you. 

"I'll cover it!" You sighed, and wiped down the tray, setting down the drinks. You stopped at the booth and placed down the items carefully. Under the low light, you could make out the group of four men around their mid to late forties. However, the one that stood out to you the most was the bald man nearest to you. There wasn't anything special about him, it must have been the way the light bounce of his hairless head, you thought until you noticed the way he smirked made him seem like an asshole. Counting by the number of glasses they had on their table, you noticed they should have been cut off hours ago. You leant across the table to collect a few of the empty glasses, as the bald man's gaze followed you, locking onto you breasts.

"Have I got something on my chest... sir?" You clench your teeth in frustration on your final word.

"Yeah... my eyes" His comment was followed with a wink. You purse your lips and clench your jaw, in attempt to brush off his comment. 

‘The things I’d love to do to that sweet body of yours. God, I think I’m getting hard just thinking about it!’

You would have thought that these things wouldn't get to you by now, but they still make your skin crawl. You straighten yourself up and walk away with the tray half full. 

‘I do not get paid enough for this shit!’ you think to yourself.

You went back behind the bar, your tray thrown down, empty bottles scattered the side. "What did those glasses ever do to you, you OK?" Naomi walked over to you, a bottle top being played with in her hands.

"Yeah, just one of those nights I think. Nothing that I can't handle, though" You smiled bleakly at her, she didn’t buy it. 

“Look, Y/N - “

"Can I get a gin and tonic and a shot of vodka?" A voice echoed behind you. You muster up a bright smile, or what is known as your 'customer service face' and turn face them. Your face dropped as soon as you realised who it was. 

“What are you doing here, Dabi?”  Dabi was lent on the bar, sweat fell from his forehead. He rolled his eyes before taking out his wallet.

 "I’m here for a drink, what does it look like?" You bit the inside of your lip, holding your tongue. 

“There are thousands of bars, couldn’t you go to one of them?”

“And miss watching you follow my orders? Now why would I do that?” His lips pulled into a smirk. “Why you even working in this shit hole, anyway?” He shouts as you prepared his drinks. 

"I've got to pay the bills some how. Not like I can live the ‘criminal life’ with telepathy and my quirk certainly isn’t up to par with putting someone like you in jail. So both villain and hero are off the list" Your voice was spitting with pettiness as you exchanged his drinks for cash.

“I mean you could steal people’s pin codes...” You weren’t sure if he was trying to give you genuine advice or rub in your lack of ability. Your face contorted into an irritated expression, as you resume cleaning the bar. 

“Haha. Very funny, nice to see you still think you have that comedic charm!” Your sarcasm didn’t go unnoticed. He lets out a breath of a laugh, it would have been audiable hadn’t it been for the music. "You look like you could use a break" He turns and hints towards the crowd of people dancing.

"Depends what I'm taking a break from... society, work... you? Either one would be preferable right now." 

Dabi shakes his head in amusement. "And you’ve clearly still got your sense of humor."

You rolled your eyes. "I'm glad to be of service." You spit as your eyes narrowed. A smile beamed across Dabi’s face before he grabbed his drinks and started off into the crowd. Just as you thought you would finally get some peace, you hear a faint yell coming from the dance floor.

"Hey, Y/N! I’ll meet you after work!" Dabi’s turquoise eyes met yours, as you turned around, a feeble attempt to mask your smile. You didn't reply to his comment as you simply gave him the middle finger. You guys got on in small doses and he wasn't a bad guy, aside from the obvious reasons that he was a high level villain. He definitely knew which buttons to push, especially when it came to you. You went back to your normal routine for the rest of your shift. 

02:33 AM                       28th April

The night had a chill in the air which hit you as you began to lock the doors of the club. You threw your bag over your shoulder, the strap pulled down on you (h/c) hair. As you walked under the moonlight you rememberd how this was the only thing that made your job worth it. Finishing during the early hours of the morning the streets were always silent. Your thoughts could run wild without the imposing mutter of people on the street. You were a few blocks from your apartment when you heard the slight chatter of voices.

“She would be lucky to be with such a man, the whore!”

You noticed it was the same men who oogled at your tits earlier that night. Great, you thought. You averted your eyes to the floor, hoping that they would just let you walk past. The smell of putrid, day old sweat mixed with stale beer and a trail of burnt tabacco.

“Hey, sweetie. You got a light!” 

“No, sorry. Goodnight.” 

“Oh, shit. You’re that waitress from the bar.”

“Why don’t you join us for a good night, sweet heart!” His friend chirped in, his voice almost as sleazy as the first.

“Creepy old men aren’t my type...”

“No need to get nasty, doll. I can show you a real good time” The way his words slid off his tongue repulsed you.

‘I’d fuck the shit outta her!’

Your face creased in disgust at his thoughts “I seriously doubt that!” His eyebrow raised as he seemed to get turned on by your aggressive replies. You caught on “Ew, no! Screw you, old man!” The first slap shocked you as you held you cheek, a small trickle of blood ran down your face from where his ring caught you. You were led by your hair, almost thrown into the alleyway. Your chest moved up and down rapidly as you you realised the danger you were currently in. You shifted your weight as you dodged his attack, his punch nearly coming into contact with your jaw, but your victory was short lived as his other hand caught you square in the ribs. You dropped to the floor as the violence continued in your weak state. A swift kick came into contact with your abdomen as your breath hitched in your throat. You blocked the next one with your arms, as you attempted to get on your feet. Everything was a blur, you could barely see, let alone defend yourself. At this point adrelalin was the only thing keeping you conscious as each blow sent pain searing through your body. His hand grazed your scalp as he pulled your hair, directing your face to his.

“Such a pretty face, it would be a shame if something were to happen to it...” A blade was pressed against your skin, it reflected in the moonlight. Your hands trembled as you tried to push him away with the last bit of your strength. You couldn’t scream. You were fighting with every inch of your life, but you felt hopeless. You were too weak. Your arms felt as though there were cement blocks attatched to them, rendering you powerless as you tried to fight back. You were already on your knees. Despite the shit you had endured, you didn’t want to die. “Please...” His figure didn’t stand that much taller than you but you had never felt so small in comparison. Darkness consumed you, the coldness of the night clung to your skin as you could barly keep your eyes open.

“Get your hands off of her. NOW.” Your attention shifted, as you are dropped onto the dark pavement below. 

“Oh who’s this? Mr big shot I see. You think you’re going to get brownie points for being the knight in shining armor?” One of them yelled.

“Keep talking, you bastard. It’s going to make this a lot more fun!” The figure moved under the street light. He wasn’t sure what had taken over him, but in the moment he couldn’t bare seeing you like this.

A strange smell took over your notrils as blue light illuminated the darkness. It was nothing like you’d ever experience before. The smell of burning flesh almost made you sick. You watched as your fellow friend emitted blue flames throughout the alley way, his heat radiated higher and higher with each step. Hairs on your neck stood on end as the men’s screams filled the quiet streets. They flaied their arms around, as they moved them to their face as though they could shield themselves from the battle against the flames. As the flames englufed them, you could hear the sound of them sizzling as though they were meat on a barbeque. You laid there as you watched their clothes melt onto their skin, before their bodies dropped to the ground, their voices fell silent.

A strong arm wrapped around you, your head rested on his chest. “I told you to meet me after work. Why do you never listen.” his voice sounded distant as you chose not to argue.

“Dabi? Where are we... going?” 

“I’m taking you to my apartment.”

“No, just put me down... I’ll be... fine” He doesn’t even bother to give you a reply. He knows you are in no fit state to go home on your own. Your eyes begin to fog over before everything went dark.

03:58 AM                     28th April

You opened your eyes, your head pounded against your skull. Pain coursed through you as you rolled your shoulder forward.

“Ahh, she’s awake.” 

“What time is it?”

“I think 4 A.M, you haven’t been down long. What do you remember?”

“ I rememeber getting out from work, getting jumped by some assholes and then...” You buried your face into your palms, trying to hide from Dabi’s gaze.

“Then what?”

“You killed them...”

“Ahh that’s good. Here, why don’t we try again and see if you can put even more disgust in your voice!” His voice spared you no sympathy.

“What do you expect, Dabi. You didn’t just killed them. I heard their screams as you burnt them to death!” you screamed back, your arms flaied in the air.

“Well things never go acording to plan, huh?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What ever you make of it, princess”

“No. I want you to explain!” You demanded.

“You were supposed to meet me after work, Y/N. If you had just waited this would of never of happened!”

“Oh, so I’m to blame for this? Wow, way to make me feel even shitter tonight, Dabi!” Your eyes narrowed.

“You’re such an ungrateful bitch! I put my neck out to save you tonight! I should of just carried on walking!”

You wished in that moment you could just switch off your emotions. His body became distorted as your vision was being consumed by tears. No. You refused to let him get to you like this. You sat up from the sofa, your tone cold.

“Maybe you should of.” Even through your attempts of concealment, you both could tell that it sounded more pained than anything.

He paused before he chose to speak. A sigh breaking his lips. “I shouldn’t of said that. Look, I put a shirt on the bed for you in my room. You’ve got blood all over, why don’t you go get a shower and we can talk about this after?”

You removed your clothes before setting them on the radiator. The bathroom wasn’t very big. As you moved from the door, the toilet was on your right, a white sink and basen opposite. A cabinet was above the sink, mirrors attatched to the doors. The aroma of burnt wood combined with a fruity smell of body wash accosted your senses. As you climbed into the shower, your body immediatly felt soothed, your muscles reducing their need to spasm. You could already feel the tension lifting slightly as you closed your eyes, the water running over you. Tears rolled down your cheek, the water from the shower masking them as you rest your head on the wall next to you. The warmth carressed your skin as you felt safe enough to let your emotions escape. You huddled your knees to your chest as you momentarily flashed back to being in the cold, dark alley. You scrubbed your body as you rememeber where the man had touched you, you almost caused your skin to bleed as you tried to wash away the disgust you felt. Small experations of pain escaped your lips as you tried to supress them, but once you started you began to release an unbroken stream of tears. 

A small knock, hit the door.

“Y/N, are you ok?”

“I’ll be out in a minute!” You tried to keep the acid from your tone, but you weren’t sure you were able to censor yourself anymore that night. 

You opened the doorway to the main room, Dabi couldn’t help but stare. The way that his shirt fell over your curves, he loved it. His eyes trailed over your breasts, not long falling to your slender waist. He had noticed the way you damp skin glistened under the his apartment lights.

‘I’ve never seen that shirt look so good before. URG! Wait can you hear me? Blink 5 times if you can. Wait, why would you let me know you’re in my head. Shit. Erm, think of something funny..... DAMN! Where is Twice when you need him?’

 “Hey, Y/N, you want to watch a movie? I made you a hot chocolate as well.”

“Is that an apology?” 

“Don’t push it.”

You enjoy his discomfort as he shifted his weight between his feet. You had almost forgot that Dabi had a soft side. Not many people were shown it, and you felt blessed to be one of them. Underneath, he really did have a nice personality, sometimes it borderlined charming. You took the mug from his hand, your fingers brushed over one anothers during the exchange. Dabi felt his pupils dilate as a grin soon spread across his face.

“Shotgun!”

“What are we? Five?” Your thighs burnt as you charged to the sofa, claiming the middle seat as your own. 

You and Dabi were sat on his sofa, the space between you basically non-existant. You were trying your best to maintain your composure, but you kept shaking, it was part of the reason you actually hated visiting Dabi’s apartment. It was as though he had never heard of the word heating before, which is kind of ironic. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see you curled into a ball, your body twitching every so often.

“You cold? Or in pain?” He glanced over to you and then the blanket over in the corner.

“A little of both...” You replied sheepishly. You breathed a sigh of relief as Dabi got up and placed the blanket over you, his body closer now. You found yourself snuggled into his chest as his arm rested on your shoulder, pulling you into him. You suddenly couldn’t concentrate on anything but the sound of your heart jumping out of your chest, you were tempted to use your quirk, to see what he was thinking but you didn’t want to invade his privacy. You hadn’t noticed before but the way the TV light illuminated his face, he looked quite beautiful, his expression somber. It was quite different from how you saw him most days, even though you didn’t agree with what happened tonight, you started to feel guilty for the way you spoke to him earlier, however, before you realised that you were staring, Dabi’s eyes burned into yours, your eyes widening with embarrassment. 

“What?”

“Huh?”

“Why are you staring?”

“I wasn’t!”

“I literally just caught you, Y/N. Don’t try and bull shit me!” Your bodies moved slightly apart, you now faced one another. 

“Sorry, I...erm. I just wanted to apologise for what I said earlier. You were just trying to help and I acted like a bitch. What I should have said was ‘Thank you’.” After your apology, you both sat there, both averting eye contact. You couldn’t help but cringe at your own words, you can’t believed you just admitted you were wrong to Dabi - of all people. 

 “Took you long enough!” Dabi doesn’t miss a second before he replied. Your fist collided with his shoulder, pain reminded you off what you had experience earlier that morning.

“Ow. Shit. God, you’re such an ass. I can’t believe I just apologised to you! I take it back.” 

“Oh no, you can’t you’ve said it now. You can’t take it back. Tough luck, princess.” he taunted as he closed to small gap between you. His breath hit your face, as you glanced at his lips. You pulled him by the top of his shirt as he leant into you, your mouths begged to be with one another. The kiss was soft in the beggining, it quickly being changed to a deep one. Your moved your hands from his shirt to his neck, forcing him towards you. Dabi obliged, as his body pinned you against his sofa. Your hands crept along his waist as you pulled him onto you, your legs wrapping around him. You winced in pain as his arm brushed over your ribs. He pulled back from you, his hand removed from under your top.

“Are you ok? Do you want to stop?” 

Your cheeks glowed red as you slowly pushed yourself out from underneath him, your arms clicked under the pressure.

“I think that’s probably best...” Although he said nothing, you could tell he was disappointed. You were so embarrassed. 

“I think I should get going anyway. I’ll just go get my things.” Your voice chocked you in your throat, you felt like such an idiot.

“Don’t be awkward, Y/N. I’ll sleep on the couch. You can have my room. I’m not going to make you walk to your apartment after what happened tonight.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind, honestly.” 

“No, it’s fine. I’ve slept in worse places, trust me.”

You both sat there, the silence killing you both.  You decided to drop it and chose to accept his offer, not wanting to get into another disagreement. You were certainly more of a hot head and after tonight your fuse was even shorter. “Ok, well I should get some rest.”

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

You took a deep breath and smiled to his reply. You made your way into his room before you sinked into his sheets, tiredness taking over. 

03:15 PM                     28th April

Dabi woke up, the afternoon light filling his apartment. He groaned as he rolled off the sofa, cracking his back from his uncomfortable night sleep. Dabi entered his kitchen, and thought after the night you had he would at least try and make today go a little smoother for you. The door to his bedroom creaked open as he walked in with a plate full of pancakes, a few peices of bacon on the side. Not long after he entered, he slammed the plate on bedside counter. His bed looked almost untouched, hadn’t it been for the screwed up blanket thrown over the top, he wasn’t even sure you had stayed. The room felt uncomfortable all of a sudden, he had never noticed how empty it had felt until that moment, but he wasn’t sure why he felt this way. It’s not like he was used to you being there. He returned to the sofa, scanning every inch until he found his phone, your contact hovered under his thumb. He called you, it immediatly going to voicemail, his voice wavered as he left a message.

“Hey, Y/N.  Look, I’m sorry about what happened last night. I didn’t mean to make it awkward between us. If you can just give me a call back, when you can.”

As he remained in his apartment close to his phone, he waited for your reply, only to find it never came.

Part 2

#dabi smut #dabi x y/n #dabi x you #bnha x reader #reader x dabi #dom dabi #mha x reader #mha angst #mha x y/n #mha smut #bnha smut #bnha fanfiction #dabi fanfic #soft dabi #dabi #bhna dabi

[sevenkittensinatrenchcoat]

Cats Historical Hypothesis

So, who wants to hear about the potential history of a few seconds of the 1998 version?

Too bad. This is my channel and I can do what I want.

So, I’m gonna talk about a brief moment that occurs in the 1998 version, as well as a few others and guess about its origins. Why do some productions have it and some don’t? Where did it come from? This is speculation based on comparing 14 different versions (Broadway Revival, Buenos Aires, 1998, German Tent Tour, Hamburg, London circa 2002, Madrid, Mexico 1991, Moscow, Paris, UK Tour 2013, US Tour V, Vienna, and Zurich), and whatever historical trivia I can find on the wiki. This is called a hypothesis for a reason. It’s not proven fact. It’s an educated guess.

Anyway, here’s a screenshot of the thing this essay/tangent will be about:

I’m too lazy to get a version I didn’t type on.

I’m adding a cut for people who don’t care to more easily scroll by this thing.

So, some productions have a joke at the beginning of Gumbie Cat where Misto strikes a pose or otherwise attracts attention to himself, assuming that Munk will sing about him before anyone else, only to quickly realize that that isn’t the case and react accordingly. The exact way this plays out varies between production.

Out of the 14 productions I’ve compared, this gag appears in: Buenos Aires, 1998, Paris, US Tour V, Vienna, and Zurich (where it’s actually more sad than funny).

The fact that all three Vienna-based productions I have access to used it makes it highly likely that it originated there. If it came from Broadway, more of the other Broadway-based, but not Vienna-based productions would have it. But, Buenos Aires and US Tour V are Broadway-based. Where did they get it from? And what about 1998, which is primarily London-based?

So, if you’re looking for something, it helps to look at where it’s not. Buenos Aires was mainly based of the 1991 Mexican Tour, which didn’t include this gag. Hamburg is based on the 1985 Sydney production, which was Broadway-based, and also didn’t include this gag. The London version didn’t include the gag on its closing night (from what I can tell. The bootleg isn’t good quality.)

So, this gag probably originated into Vienna and was then inherited by Paris and Zurich. Zurich, Zurich’s Misto in particular, has a connection to Broadway. Most likely, the Broadway production didn’t include this gag at first, but when Lindsay Chambers, a Zurich Misto, moved on to play the role on Broadway, he brought the gag with him.

This would explain who Buenos Aires includes the gag when Mexico doesn’t. In 1991, Chambers hadn’t yet been cast as Mistoffelees anywhere. But, by 1993, when the Buenos Aires production started, Chambers was playing Misto on Broadway. Though Buenos Aires was mainly following Mexico, changing Broadway trends might’ve led to some changes being made to Misto’s character to match. Buenos Aires Misto does seem to be played a bit younger than his Mexican counterpart, which was another Zurich element Chambers probably brought to Broadway.

As for 1998, Jacob Brent, who played Misto there, was Chambers’ understudy and his version of the character is similar to Chambers’ because of that. Brent probably brought the gag to 1998, and since the gag works well on film, where Misto’s facial expressions can be in close-up, the team decided to add that in.

Then there’s the US Tour. US Tour V started after the Broadway version ended and mostly stuck to whatever the Broadway production was like when it closed. The Chambers/Brent version of Misto was probably kept to the end of that production, and the tour kept that characterization. It was basically the Official Broadway Misto Characterization by that point. And the gag in Gumbie Cat was part of that.

No purely London-based show used this gag. Brent played Misto in London after 1998, but there’s no surviving footage of this. If that gag ever was included in London, it most likely didn’t stick. Even if I’m wrong in my interpretation of the 2002 footage, later London-based productions (UK Tour, German Tent Tour, Moscow) don’t use this gag. Misto’s role in Gumbie Cat is a bit different in those productions and the gag doesn’t fit there.

So, how did all of this happen in the first place? Where did Vienna get this from?

Well, Vienna was in many ways a compromise between London and Broadway, which were both very early in their runs. Vienna’s Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer put the Broadway melody into London’s context, for example. In London, at first, Misto sang lead in Gumbie Cat. This wasn’t changed until over a decade later. On Broadway, that singing role was given to Munkustrap. Vienna went in this direction, but a gag about Misto being the center of attention at the beginning of the number might’ve been a nod to the London version. Vienna was the third replica production, which means that before they came in, the number of replicas where Misto sang Gumbie cat and replicas where Munk sang it was a 50/50 split. It took a minute for Munk and Misto to figure out which one of the them would be singing this time.

Another factor is that Vienna Misto is completely mute. Up until this point, both London and Broadway had large singing roles for Misto, so this was a major change. One of the things that changed was how Misto was introduced to the audience. Singing Mistos usually sing The Invitation to the Jellicle Ball. This calls attention to Misto. He’ll be important later, so we want the audience to pay attention to him. This also served as an Establishing Character Moment. In London, it showed that Misto and Munk were both the narrators. Each one took half of the number. On Broadway, this was Misto being theatrical and putting himself in the spotlight, because he’s Like That.

But, Mute Misto needs a different Establishing Character Moment. In Vienna, this gag showed that, though he didn’t sing, Misto lived for the spotlight just like earlier versions did. When Paris aged the character down, it became more about Misto wanting to prove himself or trying to help, though different versions imply different motivations.

Singing has something to do with this. When Misto is mute, he has fewer opportunities to blatantly attract the spotlight. This element of his character has to be downplayed. It often seems like the Mute Mistos of Paris and Zurich want to be Singing Mistos but can’t. They try to get into the spotlight, but have no idea what to do when they get there.

From the way Zurich Misto responds to realizing that Munk isn’t singing about him, he seems like he just got confused. Though he didn’t sing the Invitation, he still danced with Victoria and was part of this opening act. He helped Munkustrap and now he’s right by his side, looking for acknowledgement. It’s not his turn, so he doesn’t get that acknowledgement. He thought this would go differently and his response is confusion rather than embarrassment. Instead of living for the spotlight, Zurich Misto wants to help and he wants the important people in the tribe to acknowledge him.

1998 Misto sings the Invitation. He’s been established as enjoying the spotlight. So, at the beginning of Gumbie Cat, he tries to stay in the spotlight. While Zurich Misto assumed Munk would acknowledge him for being a helper, 1998 Misto, according to Jacob Brent, who has described this bit in detail, assumed that because he’s a magical prodigy, it was only natural that he’d become the center of attention immediately.

Basically:

Mute Misto + Gumbie Gag= “Didn’t I do a good job? Why are you ignoring me?”

Singing Misto + Gumbie Gag= “Bitch I’m fabulous! Now you’re gonna sing about how great I am, right?”

So, though the gag was made as an Establishing Character Moment for Mute Misto, a Singing Misto version was created. The implication is that Mute Misto has low self-esteem and seeks validation, while Singing Misto aware of how special he is, proud of it, and wants others to acknowledge it.

So, there’s a lot to be said about a few seconds of content.

#mr mistoffelees #special magic boy #cats buenos aires #cats 1998 #cats london #cats paris 1990 #cats us tour 5 #cats vienna #cats zurich #lindsay chambers #jacob brent

[pokemoncreepypasta]

HM Slave

[STORY SOURCE]

The Generation I games. Definitely not perfect games by any means, but they were fun to play.

It's a shame my old cartridge’s battery has been long since dead. Makes sense, it was a hand-me-down from an older sibling of mine. Between both of our times playing it, it was bound to die sometime.

I was feeling nostalgic and wanted to play it again after so many years...

The trouble was, I had no intention of learning how to replace the battery, or buying a new cartridge. None of that appealed to me.

So, I just took it upon myself to play it without saving. Any time I wanted to stop, I’d just plug it into my charger, and leave it be.

Everything about this run was just for nostalgia. It was nothing personal to me, so I didn't name Red after myself or something.

I wanted to play through this game without getting attached to anything.

The best way to go through without caring? A starter-only run. I chose Charmander, since it was the cover ‘mon, and also my favorite of the three. Not necessarily because it would make the game easier in the long run.

Of course, there’s no way I’d be able to get through with just Charmander.

My plan was to catch a Pokémon specifically to use as an HM slave, so my Charizard wouldn’t be clogged up by useless moves in the long run.

And what better HM slave than the one who can learn them all, right?

In Generation I, you can’t delete moves in any way, so an HM slave was absolutely necessary.

Not like I hated Mew or anything... I just never performed the Mew glitch as a kid and thought that this would be a fun opportunity to try it.

The darned thing did everything within its power to not get caught, blowing through every single one of my PokéBalls that I’d prepared to catch it with. Hey, it wasn’t like I was going to need them later, so I didn’t complain.

I decided to nickname the little thing. I’d heard the term “HM mule” thrown around in place of HM slave, so I thought it would be funny.

Of course, picking the Fire type had its rocky start, with its disadvantage against the first two gym leaders.

I managed to scrape by with scummy tactics, though.

I’d switched to my Abra that I’d caught to perform the Mew glitch, and let Misty knock it out.

After that, I switched to Mewl for the free turn, and then healed my Charmeleon. Then, after Mewl fainted, I got a free switch into Charmeleon.

When the battle was over, I could proudly claim the Cascade Badge.

This was Mewl’s secondary purpose, to be switch fodder for me to heal my starter.

Things were going fine until Mewl learned Cut.

The first instance where Mewl’s “skills” would come into play.

This was a game where you couldn’t use HMs from the overworld, so I went to the menu to manually select it.

“MEWL ignored orders...”

Now, imagine my surprise when my slave wouldn’t listen to orders. I tried a few more times, with the same result.

I attempted to rationalize it, picking my brain for a reason. I assumed that you could not use HM moves while a Pokémon was fainted, but something about that didn’t seem right.

I healed at the Pokémon Center to be safe though.

That seemed to work, so I assumed that I was right and continued to Surge.

Nothing really unusual happened during the fight, but Mewl was knocked out again for a free heal.

On my way out, I had to cut down the tree blocking Surge’s gym again. I was worried for a moment that I had gotten myself stuck, but Mewl cut it down just fine.

I figured the game would let me use HM moves if I would be trapped otherwise.

I went back to the center to heal up my starter, and my stubborn little mule.

(And Abra too, I guess.)

I caught and released a few throwaway Pokémon to obtain Flash, which I immediately taught to Mewl.

I made my way to Rock Tunnel.

”MEWL won’t obey!”

I was frustratingly met with this. It was fully healed, I couldn't understand why it was disobeying. I wondered if it was some sort of consequence from having an illegitimate Mew...

I kept trying and trying, but no matter what, it wouldn’t light the cave.

I was sure this little bugger didn’t want to wander around in the dark just as much as me, so I really couldn’t figure out what was wrong.

I tried checking its summary, to which its blank, neutral expression had changed to something more... defiant?

I didn't know what kind of sick joke Morimoto was pulling on me by programming Mew to be this way, but I wasn’t having any of it.

It dawned on me that Abra could also learn Flash, so I just let Mewl be prissy and lit up the cave with Abra.

I somewhat regretted my choice to teach Mewl Flash. If I had known it was going to act like this, I would have just taught it Fly instead…

I decided to go ahead and skip getting Fly, since Charizard couldn't learn it anyway.

Thankfully, I made it out of Rock Tunnel just fine.

Charizard made Erika’s gym a total joke, so I didn’t even need Mewl as fodder for this fight.

The whole game was going fine so far up to Fuchsia City, and I had completely forgotten about Mewl’s disobedience by now.

I had obtained its final two moves, so I booted the HMs up and slapped them onto it.

Of course, to use Surf and progress, I had to face off against Koga.

Things were going well up until Charizard couldn’t deal with Koga’s last Pokémon.

I sent in Mewl to heal my Charizard.

”Enemy WEEZING used SLUDGE!”

“MEWL ENDURED the hit!”

Strangely, when Weezing attacked Mewl, it didn’t get knocked out in one hit like it was meant to. Instead, it stayed in the field.

While I wanted to question it at the time, I just used a Hyper Potion on my Charizard to get it back to full.

”Enemy WEEZING used SMOG!” 

“MEWL ENDURED the hit!”

 Sure enough, I wasn’t dreaming. Mewl was somehow surviving all of Koga’s attacks. Normally that would be pretty cool, except for the fact that Mewl was level 7 and therefore effectively worthless in this fight.

I had to wait for it to faint to switch to Charizard, but Mewl kept surviving every hit that was thrown at it.

”Enemy WEEZING used TOXIC!”

“MEWL”s hurt by poison!”

“MEWL fainted!”

Thankfully, it eventually became poisoned and went down, so I could send in Charizard to finish the job.

I made quick work of Koga and his Weezing after that and made my way out of the Gym.

But weirdly, as I was leaving, I couldn’t help but notice the screen flashing as if a Pokémon in my party was still poisoned.

I checked my party again to see what was up.

It seemed like Mew had a custom sprite for being knocked out that I never noticed before. I didn't even know if that was a thing.

But it was definitely knocked out, for sure, so I brushed it off as some sort of bug.

I figured if anything would fix the poison glitch, it’d be healing at the Pokémon Center.

”If you drive your POKéMON too hard, they’ll dislike you.”  

”Please take better care of your POKéMON.” 

 I was confused at this text. Was this dialogue hidden for players like me who let their Pokémon faint over and over? Whatever it is, I have never seen it before.

”We hope to see you again!” 

The nurse went back to her chipper disposition afterwards though, so I figured I should just be on my merry way as well.

I checked up on Mewl to see how it was doing now.

It seemed like the nurse just haphazardly patched it up. Mewl’s expression still looked tense, but I hoped that didn’t mean it wouldn’t use its new HM moves.

I made a quick note to take down Giovanni at Silph Co. and Sabrina. My Charizard was actually getting a bit over-leveled, so I swept through without needing to use Mewl to heal during battles at all.

I decided that on my way to Blaine, I would fall back on my training a bit.

I back-tracked over to Fuchsia City since it was faster than going all the way back to Pallet Town.

I made my way down by the Fuchsia coast and hoped quietly that Mewl would let me Surf to Cinnabar.

Thankfully it seemed like the 1’4 cat was perfectly fine with me riding on its back, with no defiance at all. I felt confident, like I was finally getting enough gym badges to make it obey.

I'd even gotten it to listen when I needed it to use Strength in the Seafoam Islands. Things were really looking up.

I’d finally hit land and was ready to storm the Cinnabar Mansion and claim Blaine’s badge.

I was feeling pretty confident with my Charizard’s HP and level that I wanted to take on the Gym without healing at the Pokémon Center.

I had plenty of Potions and Revives in case of emergency, anyway.

All of the quiz questions were normal, except... This bizarre one. 

“You treat all your POKéMON fairly?”

Though it had been several years since I played this game, something felt off about it, like it wasn’t supposed to be there.

I half-heartedly answered yes, despite knowing it was untrue. My logic was, at the very least, that even though I as a player didn’t care about these Pokémon, maybe Red did.

”Sorry! Bad call!”

The buzzer went off and I was harassed by a trainer. I was appalled... Was the game really criticizing me as a player?

Had I hit some sort of secret flag after making Mewl faint so much? I couldn't understand what was happening.

I didn’t give myself much time to think about it though, so I healed up my Charizard with some Potions and took on Blaine.

Charizard had fainted again, so I left it up to Mewl.

I healed up my Charizard and expected Mewl to hang on like before, but it just went down with no resistance.

With my seventh gym badge in hand, I was pretty happy with my run so far. A couple more hours in and I’d be done, I thought.

I was ready to Surf north towards Pallet Town and claim my eighth and final badge.

“MEWL ignored orders!”

But I received a friendly reminder.

I had forgotten that Mewl didn’t like using HMs without being healed. I really didn’t feel like taking it to the Pokémon Center though, so I just carelessly threw a Revive at it.

Hoping that the Revive would be good enough to satisfy it and let me ride on it again, I mashed through text a few times to see if I could brute-force it to listen.

”MEWL won’t obey!”

”MEWL turned away!”

It kept bombarding me with the same defiant messages over and over, until...

“MEWL hates you.”

I was caught off-guard. This text didn’t have the same energy as the others, lacking an exclamation point. It sounded like flat, cold, genuine hatred.

I pressed A again, and attempted to order another Surf. Not necessarily because I wanted it to Surf now, but more out of a morbid fascination with such intense text.

“MEWL used instead, FLASH!”

Suddenly, like in a battle, the screen lit up totally white.

I was booted out of the party screen afterwards, and immediately noticed a distinct lack of an items menu. Had Mewl taken it from me?

Closing out of the menu, I spoke to the Pokémon now standing next to me, knowing exactly who it was supposed to be.

”Mew!”

Mew’s cry played. I already knew it.

“MEWL hacked away with CUT!”

I flinched, horrified at the thought of Mewl directly attacking my trainer.

”HM01 was destroyed!”

But then I realized, it wasn't that...

”HM03 was destroyed!” 

 Instead, Mewl had stolen my items...

”HM04 was destroyed!” 

 … And was proceeding to destroy each of my HMs, one by one.

”HM05 was destroyed!” 

 After destroying HM05, Mewl’s sprite disappeared; presumably back into its PokéBall.

I was exasperated, but quick on my wits.

I still had Fuchsia City's Pokémon Center as my last saved location, meaning I could use Abra to Teleport back to the mainland.

I was smug, thinking I'd found a loophole around Mewl's attempts to sabotage me.

”ABRA used TELEPORT!”

“ABRA ran away!”

I panicked, to say the least. I frantically scrolled around my party page. How could Abra have disappeared like that? I wasn't going to accept Mewl being my only ride back to Pallet, it was impossible.

I desperately went to the PC inside the Pokémon Center, in some vain hope that maybe Abra had just been sent there somehow.

”MEWL used STRENGTH.”

“The PC was destroyed!”

I couldn't believe it.

Mewl had gone full rogue.

I suddenly had to come to grips with the horrifying realization...

I was trapped in Cinnabar with no way off.

I went through what I can only describe as the five stages of grief.

Stage 1 - Denial

I scoured the internet for any other Pokémon in Cinnabar Mansion that I could use to escape the island.

I quickly remembered that Mewl had already destroyed my HMs and stolen my items, and realized I couldn’t catch anything.

But I did have one more plan.

If I could knock out Charizard and Mewl, I could be sent back to Fuchsia. It would take a bit of work for Charizard to eventually faint, but I was prepared to try anything.

”CHARIZARD ran away!”

But I couldn’t be prepared for my Charizard running away.

I was so shocked that I didn’t even want to send in Mewl, I just said no and fled the battle.

I fell into absolute despair. Mewl had not only ruined my chance of getting off the island, but now, even if I did, what would I do without the only Pokémon I’d been raising?

Stage 2 - Anger

I’d never thought malicious thoughts about this Mew before, just casual indifference and sometimes mild frustration. But I can’t say that I didn’t want some payback towards this Mew for wasting several perfectly good hours of my life.

I sadistically thought about how I would make it faint, and then how I would torture it over, and over, making it repeatedly faint until maybe it would measure up to Charizard’s strength.

“MEWL ENDURED the hit!” 

I couldn't stop myself from shouting "NO."

Despite Mewl’s apparent injuries, it hung on with one HP.

Again, and again, no matter what I did. No matter what Pokémon I faced.

It seemed like nothing could poison it, burn it, kill it.

Then, it dawned on me…

Maybe this was what Mewl wanted all along?

Stage 3 - Bargaining

Mewl’s stubbornness and special ability that made it unable to faint...

It took Mewl a long time to faint its first real opponent, due to its low level, but in the end, it grew.

I checked Mewl’s summary for some sort of sign, anything at all, that this was what I was supposed to be doing. It stared at me with its vacant, unreadable expression...

Perhaps it was shocked I had battled with it? Whatever the case, it wasn’t staring at me with hostility anymore...

So it was silently agreed between us, then. Mewl and I, we did our first ever grinding session.

It took a few hours, but Mewl’s level was growing steadily. Things seemed to be going well, until...

We ran into our first wild Ditto.

I thought it was strange, having not found a Ditto for all this time I'd spent in Cinnabar Mansion, but I didn’t see any trouble with fighting it, so I just let the battle progress.

Stage 4 - Depression

The Ditto transformed into Mewl, who appeared to have a sad expression on its face.

I quickly pulled out of the battle screen and into my party to see if something had changed with Mewl.

I checked to see Mewl, who had that same sad expression as the Ditto. Its status had changed from "OK" to a worrying "...".

I knew something was wrong, so I fled from that battle and every battle afterwards.

Though I had avoided it before on hopes of somehow escaping to Fuchsia City, I gave it all up to heal Mewl, who had risked life and limb to impress me.

After it was healed, I checked its summary again.

Though it had fully healed, it still had that depressed look in its eyes. I couldn’t understand want it wanted. I didn’t know what it needed.

But I realized that it was getting pretty late, and I wanted to get to sleep soon. I would have to leave the game on, and leave Mewl behind.

That was when it hit me.

Could it be possible that Mewl knew I hadn’t saved? Did Mewl somehow understand that no matter if I saved or didn’t save, it would disappear when I turned the game off?

I hadn’t really thought about it until now, but Mewl was more special than any other Pokémon I’d ever played with.

And if I turned the game off, it would disappear forever.

I didn’t know how to feel about that.

I went out of the Pokémon Center to reflect about this with Mewl.

I still wanted to finish the adventure with it, if it would let me.

Stage 5 - Acceptance

“MEWL doesn’t want to go.”

That was okay, I thought.

I realized that even if I went with Mewl to the Pokémon League, and won, then the game would return to the title screen and not save my progress.

Maybe Mewl understood that, too.

So then we were at an impasse, together on Cinnabar Island.

I didn’t know what to do. Even if this Mew was special, even if I genuinely believed it was real, I couldn’t just keep my GameBoy on forever. What would anyone else think?

I decided that for the first time in this entire run, I wanted to save my game. I didn't want to turn it off just yet, but at least save, as some sort of precautionary measure.

I hoped, that in the event the GameBoy turned off for whatever reason, a miracle would occur.

”Would you like to SAVE your MEW?”

It seemed that the game knew exactly what my heart wanted, and I selected yes.

Then, all of a sudden, my game turned off. Not due to low battery or anything, but it just turned off.

I panicked for a moment, and quickly switched the game back on.

It was gone. The save file was gone.

Or, rather, it was never there to begin with.

#Pokemon Creepypasta #Pokepasta #Mew #HM Slave