#a dude followed me for art turns out hes
Text
6th century bce archaic greece dashboard simulator
📜 oracles-onomakritos Follow
guys you have GOT to stop sticking in extra aristeias for your faves, the iliad is getting TOO LONG
⚔️ argivehero1184 Follow
nope lmao check out my guy diomedes he stabbed aphrodite!!!
📜 oracles-onomakritos Follow
look do you want anyone to even be able to perform this whole thing bc i know rhapsodes are impressive but their memories can only go so far
#parahomerica #i spend so much time on this and is anyone remotely grateful?
76 notes
🌠 thalesmilesios Follow
it’s going to be so crazy next month when it gets dark in the middle of the day, the medes are going to have no idea what hit them
🏛️ anaxagoraintheagora Follow
lol like that would ever happen! you’d have to piss off apollo even more than agamemnon did
🏛️ anaxagoraintheagora Follow
i stand corrected.
#ok headed down to didyma to make some offerings now #ngl this has me pretty freaked out
7,264 notes
🌸 iokolpos Follow
poem for atthis 💔
like a hyacinth on the mountains
the shepherds tread upon her underfoot
and on the ground a purple flower
Keep reading
💐 poikilothronanaktoria Follow
sappho dm me please i won't leave you like she did
247,383 notes
💩 iambicpharmakos Follow
wealth is such a dick, he never comes to my place to go hey hipponax here’s thirty minas of silver, and some extra too! what, is he scared?
11 notes
🏺 exekias-epoiese Follow
sneak peek of my new work! process video will be up soon, and remember I am currently open for commissions!
#ajax 😭😭😭#wanted to challenge myself with the hands and i think they turned out ok #the armor was much more fun though #art tag
693,554 notes
👹 assemblerofchoruses Follow
when you think about it... maybe helen's right when she blames herself for the trojan war? she chose to run away with paris and then so many people died because of it, she even says herself that she was a shameless dog
👹 assemblerofchoruses Follow
helen if your reading this i didmt meanit im so sorry
#i cant see anythignwhat is going on
187 notes
🍃 nikostratethepythagorean Follow
that hippokleides guy is such an icon. siege of tyre? hippokleides don't care! persian invasion? hippokleides don't care! fall of babylon? hippokleides don't care! peisistratus back in athens? hippokleides don't care!
#trying to bring this energy to the new olympiad #niko speaks
326 notes
🫒 notthatmegacles Follow
and don't just automatically vote for your tribe!
💐 poikilothronanaktoria Follow
um who even are any of these guys
🫒 notthatmegacles Follow
dude they're the patron heroes for the ten new tribes, have you been living under a rock????
💐 poikilothronanaktoria Follow
believe it or not i’m one of the dozens of people worldwide that live in a polis that’s not athens
#smh #lesbian problems
28,724 notes
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
ೃ⁀➷ spoil you, plug!eren
eren hated when you spent your own money, but you don’t listen.
thinking about the way plug!eren would take you on his drops with him. you were so quiet and in your own world, he never minded the fact that you had your freshly white painted toes resting against the dash of his mercedes AMG coupe. the entire car was blacked out with expensive ceramic tints, protecting you both from your usual…late night activities.
your glasses rested on the cute bridge of your nose as your left leg was sat in eren’s lap while your right rested against the dashboard. eren was lucky that he fucked with most of his customers heavy…you two had been waiting for the dude to meet y’all for nearly thirty minutes now, and had it been someone else, eren would have sped away long time ago.
eren comfortingly rubbed your baby soft feet in the grasp of his tattooed hand, one with beautiful realism art of your own eye. with a turn of his head, he could see you practically nose deep in the bright screen of your phone illuminating through the car. “you growing bored mama?” his voice is concerned. “ian think we was gonna be waiting this long on dude…my bad baby.”
you hadn’t said much since you’d gotten in the car, just wanting to hurry and add all of your things to your shopping cart on the skims website. “nah, ‘m just…trying…to do somethin’ real quick,” you bite your lip as you tap away on your phone. you were trying to add as many things to your cart before it was gone. “before this shit sell out.”
eren being the nosy boy he is leans against your shoulder to see what you were doing. but the moment he’d seen you type in numbers that belonged to what he knew as your own debit card, he kissed his teeth in annoyance. “man how many times i gotta tell you to stop using your card to go shopping bae?” you roll your eyes at his words. “i’m serious, you got all three of my cards on ya phone for a reason. fuck is you typing in your info for?”
don’t get him wrong, eren loved the fact that you were independent and knew how to handle money almost perfectly now that you were in your twenties. but being together with you for so long, he continued to step up with his provider capabilities by always taking care of you. whether it was paying your bills, rent—everything in between.
but of course it was a struggle when ms. i can do it all by myself meets mr. i know you can but let me do it for you
“because i’m spending like 600 dollars,” you point out to his previous question with an obvious scoff. “i’m not asking you for that.” eren mirrors your actions and rolls his eyes again.
eren looks at you as if you’re insane and suffered memory loss for the past four years you’ve been together. “babe…i make that shit in one night. actually—fuck a night—i make that shit in two hours!”
it wasn’t like he was lying either, with the way that eren was one of the only trusted plugs in town, it was very easy that he’d bring at least a band a night on a consistent basis. selling for almost six years was finally paying off.
you two hardly ever fought, but if you did, it was always about money. eren knew how long you’ve had to do things on your own physically and financially. you couldn’t go to your mom for help, you didn’t have a dad to beg, so it was all on you since you’d been 16. but now that he had eren, he’d just wish you’d let him take the burden of money of your shoulders and take care of you the way you take care of him.
after a few minutes, your boyfriend holds his hand out. you give him crazy eyes, but eventually follow orders by putting your phone in his hand. “don’t know how many times i gotta tell yo stubborn ass, forreal,” he grunted. “‘s never a problem spoiling my baby. you don’t ever ask me for nothing. let me feel useful and get you stuff, mama.”
with a sigh, you nod your head, like you always did. there was no way eren was gonna take no for an answer when it came to spoiling his wife.
in response, eren uses his free hand to delete your information and instead place the correct numbers—the information to his amex black card. all the money he has, he sits and does nothing with it, so why not buy you all the things you’ve never had before?
when you hear the chime of your phone confirming your order, eren hands you the phone back and goes to look out his dark window.
with your acrylics, you grab eren by the neck and slowly turn him back to face you. “thanks papa,” you gave him genuine eyes.
eren leans forward and pecks your lips. with a serious face, he pecks you one more time before wrapping his tatted fingers around your neck erotically. with a look in your eyes he tells you, “always tell me what you want, no matter how much, mama. you know daddy gonna get that shit for you one way or another, regardless.”
#lora’s fics! ೄྀ࿐#plug!eren x reader#plug!eren#plug!eren x black reader#plug eren x black reader#plug eren x reader#plug eren#plug eren smut#eren jaeger x black reader#eren jaeger x reader#eren jaeger smut#plug!eren smut#aot x black reader#eren jaeger x chubby reader#eren x black reader#eren x chubby reader#aot x chubby reader
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
let the mourners come
Title: let the mourners come
Ao3 Link: Only available to Ao3 users
Word Count: 3045
Summary:
It started, as most things do with Danny Fenton, as a joke.
It ended, as most things do with Jazz Fenton, with things better than they were before.
xxXxx
When Danny finally gets a Twitter, it’s during Elon Musk’s shit show takeover. He’s able to secure a good Twitter handle thanks to people leaving en masse and fleeing to Tumblr. He knows about things that happen outside of Amity Park (he is terminally online rather than chronically, after all), but he still doesn’t think anything of using @TheJoker as his handle, even knowing about Gotham City’s clown troubles. It’s just going to be a shitpost account, anyway, one that dances in the chaos of Elon’s electronic graveyard. Nothing will come about him using @TheJoker when he’s merely posting things like, “Just grew a new row of teeth!!! very pointy but can’t go to the dentist anymore bc they might turn me in to the giw.”
So Danny honestly never foresaw The Actual Real Joker breaking out of Arkham Asylum all the way in Gotham City, New Jersey, and deciding to get a Twitter account to terrorize people online as well as offline. And he definitely never foresaw The Joker @’ing him on Twitter, demanding that Danny change his Twitter handle. But, well. Here he was.
[Image Description: A screenshot of a Twitter reply chain, starting with the real Joker @'ing Danny's Twitter account, which uses TheJoker as his Twitter handle. The Joker, who has a verified account, demands that Danny "change your handle", and Danny replies with a simple "no" followed by red heart emoji. The Joker Tweets, "Kid you don't know who you're fucking with," to which Danny replies, "Ye I do ur some dude w/ poor fashion sense and lame jokes. Maybe try badjokesbyjeff bc originality is ugly on u" followed by a shrugging emoticon. The Joker responds, "Check your DMs." Danny then responds, "Perf [happy emoji surrounded by hearts] I've sent you a time and place. Can't wait to beat the shit out of another disgrace of a clown." Someone with the username "Gregg rulz ok" responds to Danny's last Tweet, "Bro is absolutely RATIOING the joker but the clown keeps responding [three skull emojis] embarrassing frfr too bad he's gonna die for realsies".
End ID]
Danny is quick to respond and then makes even quicker work of roasting The Joker. This soon results in The Joker DMing him his IP Address and a creative threat. Still, Danny isn’t about to cow to a clown with no respect for the art of clowning. He replies to the DM:
Cool, meet me at the Nasty Burger parking lot in Amity Park IL on tuesday at 2am
The response from The Joker is quick:
Fourteen year olds are too confident these days
Danny rolls his eyes and ignores the influx of notifications from Twitter, and instead makes another Tweet.
Imagine beefing with someone over a Twitter handle lol acc so embarrassing for him
He blackens his screen and stretches in bed, letting his spine pop more than what is humanly possible. He runs his tongue over that second row of teeth, his lips curling into a grin.
xxXxx
Gothamite Twitter is blowing up over The Joker’s social media beef with a faceless shitposting account. Jason, upon finding out about it, has a series of reactions: first, he looks up the shitposter and follows them. Then, he finds the actual chain between the poster and The Joker, and his vision goes vibrant green when he sees that The Joker’s profile picture is of the second Robin, beaten and swollen in an abandoned building in Ethiopia.
When his vision clears and he can breathe without wanting to kill, he likes the shitposter’s replies, and he calls the Replacement to see if the other Bats know already.
“We know,” Tim says in lieu of a hello when the ringing cuts out. “We’re working on it.”
“What, you think anything’s gonna come of it?” But even as Jason asks, he already knows the answer. The Joker is unhinged and once he’s threatened something, he’ll follow up unless he comes up with a “funnier” option.
Tim’s breath hitches, and he says, “I’ve hacked their DMs. Joker knows the kid’s IP address and sent it to him. He knows everything from that address alone.”
He pauses in the middle of suiting up, “Kid?”
He hears Tim swallow, “Yes, kid. He’s fifteen. And he gave The Joker a specific time and place to meet up to fight. In his own hometown.”
“Are— are you fucking kidding me?”
“No. B is already calling Nightwing. We’re taking the Batwing to Illinois.”
“Jesus fuck. I’ll be there in twenty.”
“Hood, I—”
“Shut up, I’m already in my gear.” He hangs up without waiting for a response.
He refreshes the Twitter feed and barks a laugh at the newest Tweet:
Jason Todd votes, and the Red Hood leaves his safe house.
xxXxx
A commercial flight to Illinois takes around two and a half hours. In the Batwing, they get there in an hour, and don’t even have to worry about the drive from Chicago to a small speck of a town like Amity Park. They spend the quick flight learning everything they can about Daniel James Fenton, the owner of the Twitter account, and they can all sense the growing tension from (and between) Bruce and Jason.
But, well. Jason doesn’t care. Let them be uncomfortable. It doesn’t compare to being ripped back into life and finding out his dad didn’t even get justice for his death.
When they reach town, it doesn’t take long to find the Fentons’ home. This is in part because Amity Park is a very navigable town, and because of the giant neon sign proclaiming FentonWorks on the side of the building.
“Is that a blimp?” Dick asks. “Why don’t we have a blimp?”
“Where would we keep it?” the Demon Brat counters practically. “Goliath takes up all of the Cave’s extra space.”
Jason rolls his eyes and knows veins would be popping out of Bruce’s forehead if it weren’t for the cowl.
“Let’s go,” Bruce says instead, and they all make their way to the house.
Nightwing, predictably, goes for the front door approach. Jason rolls his eyes as he takes one of the second-story windows and finds his way downstairs.
He gets down at the same time that a redheaded girl answers the door and nearly slams it in Dick’s face. Jason has to suppress snickers at the sight.
“Wait, wait, wait, are you Jazz Fenton? We need to talk to your brother!”
“...We?” she asks, then tenses and turns around to see the rest of the Bats in the hall behind her. Dick takes the opportunity to step in completely, closing the door behind him. “Wha— what’s going on?”
“Where are your parents, Jazz?” Bruce makes every question sound like a demand. Jason rolls his eyes from behind his mask—way to put the teenager at ease, B.
“Why do you need to know?” Her voice has a defensive edge to it. “What do you want with Danny?”
“Hey, it’s okay,” Nightwing comforts. “He didn’t do anything too bad, just said some dumb things online. It’s not his fault.”
This relaxes her, and her shoulders begin un-hunching. “Oh, s-so what’d he do?”
“He foolishly challenged The Joker to a battle in a ‘Nasty Burger’ parking lot tonight.”
“You could’ve had some more tact, Robin,” Nightwing scolds. But the Demon Spawn just crosses his arms.
“He did what?” Jazz shrieks. “Like, The Joker from Gotham? That Joker?”
“Are there others?” Red Hood comments dryly.
Her face goes through several different emotions—disbelief, rage, fear, and then rage again, “DANIEL JAMES FENTON! GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!”
There’s a thumping noise, and then frantic footsteps down the stairs.
“Wha? Who died?” asks the figure of a tiny fifteen-year-old, smaller than even Jason had been when he was alone with The Joker. He’s tiny and lanky. Zero muscle definition. Eye bags to rival the Replacement’s. Something ripples in the Pit, deep and distinct, but he can’t name what causes it.
Oh, this kid is so dead.
“Danny,” says Jazz calmly while Danny blinks uncomprehendingly at the heroes in their hallway. She is solemn when she says, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to kill you now.”
“What did I do?”
She stares at him, “Why have you scheduled a fight with The Joker?”
“Oh, that.” He rubs the back of his neck, “Is he taking that seriously?”
“Of course he is, Danny! It’s The Joker! That’s what he does! He can’t differentiate between a joke and reality! He would tear off his own face for the bit!”
“Oof,” is all Danny can muster. He digs his phone out and starts typing before Jazz yanks it out his hand.
“You’re fucking TWEETING about this?” Jazz asks incredulously, and Hood’s hackles rise. She even reads the Tweet aloud, “‘Just found out @TheJ0ker is being fr about fighting me. Sad but i can take a clown.’”
“I was gonna add ‘i’ve done it b4,’ but like the letter and the number four. But yeah.”
“You’re grounded forever.” Danny opens his mouth to protest, but the look Jazz cuts at him is so scathing that he shuts his mouth. Hood is reluctantly impressed—she had what could be cultivated into a fantastic Batglare. She pockets the phone, “You’re never getting this phone back. Taunting The Joker to Amity? Have you any brain cells? What if he brings Joker gas with him, huh? Or any of his goons? What if he starts hurting other people? Have you thought any of this through?”
Danny’s face goes from tired to chastised, his lips drawing into a frown, especially at the mention of other people.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t think that he’d take it so seriously.”
“He sent you your IP Address.”
“I thought that was just a random string of numbers?”
“Oh my god,” Jazz despairs. “Oh my god. Grounded forever. See, I know you're lying to me. I know you're lying because Tucker, the nerdiest tech nerd to have ever been born, is your best friend.”
He rubs the back of his neck, “I tune him out?”
“You’re still lying to me?” Jazz scoffs and turns to Batman, “Do whatever you want with him. I’m not going to defend him from this.”
“Hey!” complained her brother, but Batman just continued on, “Where are your parents?”
“They’re in Sweden for a science convention,” Jazz answers. “They left this morning.”
Damn, Jason curses to himself.
“Jazz, seriously. You’re not gonna let Batman kill me, right?”
“Do you want to be cremated or buried, Danny?” Jazz asks blasély, and Danny gulps, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.
“It’s my Twitter handle,” he mutters petulantly, and Jason can’t believe the gall of this kid. Or maybe stupidity. Audacity’s a good one, too. “If he wanted it, he should’ve gotten it first. And he gives clowns a bad name.”
“Not the clown thing again.” Jazz digs her palms into her eyes, sighs, then turns to the heroes. “He has a whole clown thing ever since Circus Gothica came to town and robbed a bunch of jewelry stores.”
Danny gestures wildly with his hands, as if demonizing clowns was the real problem and not the egomaniacal mass murderer who wanted to murder him for his Twitter handle, “Clowning is an art form, Jazz, and people like Freakshow and The Joker make a mockery of the very serious societal statements that clowns make!”
All of the Bats very carefully Did Not look at Nightwing, who has made very similar rants on quiet patrols.
“You are never leaving this house again,” she says serenely. “And I’m unplugging the wifi router.”
“You would punish even yourself?”
“Oh, little brother. I would watch the world burn if it meant knocking sense into your thick skull.”
“Okay, Christ,” Red Hood finally interrupted the siblings’ melodrama. An unyielding redheaded girl and a mouthy black-haired, blue-eyed boy? They’d fit in a little too well back at the Manor, so Jason needs to cut this shit out before Bruce’s bat-doption instincts start tingling. “Stop. Just… Christ. Stop. Is this how you always interact with each other?”
“Sometimes there’s explosions,” Danny pipes up, a cheeky grin on his face.
Jazz doesn’t dispute it.
Fucking hell. God damn it. I can’t. I just can’t.
Batman doesn’t give anything away, “Robin and Red Robin will be staying here with you until Nightwing, Hood, and I apprehend The Joker. First, we’re going to check the perimeter.”
“Oooh, I get to give the lab tour!”
Lab?
“No lab. You’re grounded. You’ll only be in there for cleaning duty now.”
“Wh– hey! No fair!”
“What’s this lab you two are talking about?” Red Robin asks before Jazz can rip into her brother again.
She sighs, “Our parents’ lab. I’ll show you, but someone needs to stay with Danny.”
“You act like I’m gonna run off and start World War III….”
“I wonder why,” she says sarcastically.
Batman nods to Robin, who nods back, and the rest of them follow Jazz out of the living room to a metal reinforced door. She types in a code—Jason catches the numbers 03-14-99. There’s an assenting beep, and she opens the door, flicking on the lights and leading them down into what is apparently a basement lab.
A stone settles in Red Hood’s stomach, cold and heavy.
The basement is large, likely the floor size of the entire building. There are several work tables, filled with miscellaneous blueprints and spare parts and weapons and tools. Against the farthest wall is another armored door, but what draws Hood’s—and the entire Batclan’s—attention is the south wall, where a circular hole in the wall was glowing a toxic Pit green.
The stone shattered in his stomach, splintering into his body. Is it harder or easier to breathe? Jason can’t tell.
“Wow,” says Nightwing. His voice is cheerful, but Jason can feel the stress beneath it. “Do I even want to know?”
Wasn’t this supposed to just be typical Joker bullshit?
“Our parents are ectobiologists,” Jazz explains nonchalantly, walking further into the lab. “As in, ghost biologists.” She pauses at one of the work tables, picking up a green and white thermos. Pretty boring, considering the rest of their surroundings.
“Ghosts.” Red Robin’s voice is carefully neutral.
“Ghosts,” Jazz reaffirms. “I know. I thought they were crazy at first, too. But I can prove it, if you like.” Then, without waiting for a yes or no, she untwists the thermos, and there’s a bright flash of white, and a whole entire body sprouting out of it.
“WHOO! I’M FREE!” cries the…being, pale and floating and lanky and entirely too big to have fit into a fucking thermos, of all the fucking things. “....And not in the Realms? Wait.” He stops stretching, descending to rest closer to the ground, but still hovering a few inches from the floor. He’s got green eyes and lifeless (ha) blond hair. He’s wearing a trenchcoat and a green skull necklace. Overall, he looks like the type of thug he’d arrest in the Bowery.
“Hello, Johnny.” The man’s—ghost’s?—eyes flicker around each person in the room, his gaze becoming more and more confused and panicked as he takes in each Bat, before settling on Jazz Fenton.
“Why are the fucking Bats here?”
“The Joker’s coming to Amity,” she says. The ghost’s eyes widen. Jazz tilts her head, “How many ghosts would you say passed away in Gotham, Johnny?”
As Jason and the Bats tense, this Johnny guy lets out a wicked laugh, “Oh, Doll, you have the best surprises. Why did we break up?”
“You did try to have my body possessed. That ruins any good relationship.”
“Man, but Kitty’ll love this. Thanks for letting me out of Soup Time, Doll.” He floats higher, “Any advice?”
She throws him the phone she’d confiscated from Danny and he catches it easily, “Everything’s on here. Have fun.”
“What exactly are you planning?” Batman scowls.
Johnny laughs, “Aww, don’t worry, Bats. Peace and love on Planet Earth, or whatever. We’ll make it quick.” Then, as the Bats leap into action as one, Johnny turns invisible, the Batarangs passing harmlessly through where he’d once been floating.
“Where did he go?” Batman turns his scowl, angrier than ever, to Jazmin Fenton, who stares back unflinchingly. “He’s going to solve the problem.”
“You mean he’s going to kill The Joker.”
She shakes her head, “Oh, no. That’d just be asking for him to come back as a ghost. Could you imagine a Joker with powers like invisibility, intangibility, flight, and more? Johnny can be impulsive, but he’s smart. None of them will kill The Joker.”
“Then what are they going to do?” Red Robin asks.
“My parents are ectobiologists,” Jazz repeats from earlier. “But I am more of an anthro-ectopologist. I am concerned with the study of ectoplasmic beings’ societies and cultures. And while it is very ancient, there is protocol in the Infinite Realms—that is, where you go when you die, should you remain after death—to prosecute living criminals who have killed a certain number of Realms citizens. So you don’t have to worry about your moral code, Batman. The Joker will be tried by a much fairer court than Gotham can ever hope to have. No offense.”
Jason stares at Jazz Fenton, who he’d pegged as the sane sibling. He’s not so sure now, but he can’t say he hates it.
“And how do we know it’s a fair trial?” Nightwing asks.
She waves her hand, “Oh, as Gotham’s Knights, you’re key witnesses. I’m sure you’ll be summoned to testify. You will see then. And don’t worry about your secret identities—the dead don’t care much for that sort of thing.”
“So if this is a ‘fair’ trial or whatever, The Joker’s going to be locked up forever?” Jason asks. “I mean, that’s the only option for shit like him.”
Batman sends him a look, but he ignores it.
“Well, there are several different punishments that could be deemed appropriate, but he’ll never be able to set foot in the mortal world again, yes.”
Jason Todd grins, “Oh, I’m glad your brother’s stupid, kid.”
She sighs, long-suffering, “Well, that makes one of us. Still, there’s more important things we should discuss now that you’re here.”
“More important than The Joker trying to kill your brother over a Twitter handle?” Red Robin asks doubtfully.
Jazz smiles, sharp and dangerous, and asks, ”Have you ever heard of the Anti-Ecto Acts?”
xxXxx
Several months later when Danny is finally un-grounded, he Tweets his last three Tweets before Twitter can become the foolishly named X:
Imagine bullying the Joker so hard that it not only lands the Joker in ghost prison BUT it also leads to major law reform in the US lmao someone make the domino effect meme about this pls
Y’allre replying to me with thanks like i did anything other than be an internet troll. My sister literally manipulated local, federal, and interdimensional law so you should be thanking her.
i just a babie 🥺🥺🥺
xxXxx
Thanks for reading! This is the whole fic, so pls do not ask for tags! Thank you :)
#dc x dp#dp x dc#dcxdp#dpxdc#danny phantom#danny fenton#jazz fenton#jason todd#batman#fanfiction#fanfic#ao3#the joker#johnny 13#severely ooc
3K notes
·
View notes
Note
hi can i request for mark smut where he's just obsessed with your boobs and nipples. like he doesn't even care if you're at public place he just needs to touch them. he also likes to play with your nipples at home hehehe
Do Not Touch Mark.L
GENRE: fluff, smut, fwb
WARNINGS: kissing, flirting, banter, FWB, fingering, breast play, nipple play, riding, slight anal play, unprotected sex, spanking, standing doggy, mirror sex, public sex-ish, getting caught in the act, consented recording, possessiveness, and slight food sex play!
AN| i tried being cheesy by using MISAMO as my title.. get it.. hehe.. anyway, the first scene was inspired by a twitter NSFW artist!! this is their account and the art that really was stuck on my mind for a week! i’m gonna make a jaemin ver but i’ll keep itfor valentines… happy readings! ;)
“mark, give up! just face the fact that you’ve used up all the syrup!” you say with your lips pressed together and curved down into a frown.
your brown syrup covered breasts pressed together as mark shakes the bottle and presses it firmly together to squeeze more syrup.
“there’s still a little more, baby. i promise, just be patient and wait with me.” the bottle of chocolate syrup farts and bubbles up as mark uses all his strength as an attempt to squeeze the rest of the syrup out from the bottle.
you sigh as your arms begin to cramp. “dude, my arms are starting to hurt.” you whine and drop your arms, your breasts falling with your arms.
“i know, baby. i know but just.. just a few more minutes, it’s almost all out!” his desperate bug eyes focused on the last tiny drop that teased him by taking its sweet time to drip from the bottle.
“mark, i’m just—“ as you go to sit up, mark pushes you back down and squeezes your breasts together, licking the last bit of the syrup from the tube and mouthing one of your nipple.
you moan and grab a fistful of his short locks. “you’re such a greedy jerk.” you mumble and lock your legs around his waist.
mark throws the bottle and it hits the closet door with a loud thud.
mark moans and moves to your other nipple. you squeeze your arms around his head and kiss his head. “are we done yet?” you ask, playing with his hair.
you give him a smack on the head when he doesn’t answer. “i’m hungry,” you whine. “i want to eat something.”
mark pulls away, his face absolutely covered in chocolate syrup. “eat this dick.” you shove his face and roll the two of you over. “you’re disgusting.” you slide off the bed and grab your clothes off the ground before leaving the room.
“i was just kidding, babe.” mark says while following you to the bathroom. “shut up and go cook me something.” you use a rag and you wet the material, squeezing out the extra water and wiping away the sticky syrup from your breasts.
mark watches with admiration and with a cute grin from the doorway.
“god, how did i let you get away with this idea. ‘such a stupid idea.” you sigh and wash the rag after cleaning your breasts with it.
you hang the rag and slip on your bra, taking little glances at mark who watches you through the mirror. “mind helping?” you struggle with your clips.
“mm,” mark pouts with a smirk. “after you calling me stupid, disgusting and a greedy jerk.. i think you can do it yourself.” his eyes squinting in a taunting way.
you turn to him while holding your straps. “okay, first; i didn’t call you stupid, i just said your idea was stupid. second; i’m hangry and i’m gonna get more angry if you don’t help me. third—“
mark yanks you by the waist and kisses you. “shut up.” he whispers when pulling away. “or i’m gonna shove my dick down your throat.”
before you can protest your angry thoughts, mark spins you and grabs your bra clippings, clipping them together and spinning you back around. “c’mon, i’ll go cook us some ramen.”
mark takes your hand and drags you to his kitchen. “yeah, because that’s the only thing you can cook.” you mumble.
“you should be thankful you’re getting ramen instead of raw, burnt eggs.” you glare at him from behind and you can visualize his smirk.
mark walks into the practice room with two bags of candy and drinks. “oh, finally.” he huffs when seeing the peacefully sleeping haechan on the couch.
“how’d you tire him?” mark asks, removing his black mask and black beanie. “y’know, did what i always do to tire you out.. a little bit of cowgirl.. missionary.. and a blowjob.. whatnot.” you shrug while scrolling on your insta feed.
“hey!” you whine when your phone is snatched from you. “don’t say those type of shit, y/n.” you glare up at him and giggle. “gotcha there, didn’t i?” you stand up with your hands on your hips. “don’t be jealous, remember you’re the one who said no strings attached.”
mark chews the inside of his cheek and watches as you walk past him.
“so, what kind of snacks did you get?” you dig through the bags and pull out a few snacks and drinks. “mm, chocolate covered mushrooms, yum.” you tear the bag open and plop one of the treat into your mouth.
you moan and grab another one. “thanks, markie.” you smacks your lips together and toss a handful into your mouth.
you drop the bag of chocolate when being spun around. “hey!” you’re met eye to eye with an angry looking mark. “if you wanted some, you could’ve just asked.” you go to turn and grab the bag but mark drags you by your ankles so that you’re now underneath him.
“you like donghyuck?” your eyebrows pinch together. “are you actually jealous? really, mark? wow, who knew a little joke would make the mark lee jealous.” you scoff and marks jaw ticks.
mark looks down at your legs and then back up at you. “no, mark. haechan is sleeping right over there— he’s literally six feet away from us!” you didn’t actually know, you just didn’t want to be caught.
“pretty girl doesn’t want to be caught in the act, huh? that’s never stopped you, has it?” you press your lips together and glare up at mark who stands over you with a smirk.
“what, you don’t remember the time you snuck me in your room while your best friend was asleep on the floor next to us?”
you bite your lip. “ugh, you’ve made your point! stop being a jerk and hurry up.” mark watches as you undo your sweats but he stops you.
with frustration burning in your eyes, you glare up at him. “i thought this is what you wanted, no?!” mark shakes his head and quickly glances at haechan who stirs with a moan.
“c’mere,” mark pushes himself off his knees and walks over to the dim corner, he sits himself by the mirror and spreads his legs. “c’mon, brat.”
with a huff, you crawl over to mark, sitting in between his legs with your back against his chest and your knees barely pressed against your chest.
“stay quiet for me, yeah?” mark whispers and gives you a kiss on the shell of your ear.
with your shirt pushed up and exposing your breasts and your sweats pushed down by your knees, mark fingers you with one hand and uses the other hand to tweak your nipples.
his fingers moving fast and curling every time they enter you. his lips softly cursing into your ears while you quietly moan.
his hand curling up and his palm rubbing against your clit. you roll your hips as an attempt to get more pleasure from his palm.
“i’m gonna cum— fuck!” you whimper and gasp when seeing haechans body toss and turn on the tiny couch.
“i said to be quiet, didn’t i?” mark whispers.
you squeal as mark picks up his pace and fucks your pussy with his fingers. the thought of just his fingers getting you off blew your mind, he was talented in so many ways.
“mark,” you pant. “mark,” you roll your hips and grab the back of his neck, bringing his face closer to yours. “i’m cumming.” you whisper before clamping your legs shut and shivering with your orgasm.
you gasp and turn, burying your face into the broad chest of mark. “ooh, fuck!” you cry out into marks chest and dig your nails into the back of his neck.
“ah, fuck. that’s it, baby.” your hand squeezes marks wrist as he tries to keep fucking you with his fingers. “stop, stop..” you pant and push yourself from mark.
mark stares at you, his chest rising slowly and shrinking in the same pace. a worn out grin on his face as he watches your legs twitch and you sitting so breathlessly.
“you’re mean, mark.” you pull your bra and shirt into place and move onto your pantie and sweats. “you know you love it, brat.” you stand and tie your messed up hair into a high ponytail.
“what do you say,” mark stands and grabs you by the waist. “head back to my place?” he bites your shoulder as he stares you down through the mirror.
“we can’t just leave haechan here by himself.” you drop your hands after tightening your pony. “he’s a big boy, he can handle being alone.”
“yeah, i’ll be fine.” haechan says nonchalantly.
you gasp and turn to haechan who lays on the couch with an arm over his forehead. “no fucking way.” you mutter and walk towards the pile of stuff, grabbing your bag and leaving the practice room.
“nice tits and moans, y/n.” haechan says with a small giggle.
mark sighs and chases after you.
“hey, hey, you’re my favorite kind of night.” the song sings while you circle mark with a hungry look in your eyes.
mark grabs your waist and dips you in a circle, gradually grinding his hips into yours. “so, i love when you call unexpected.”
he brings you back up and your noses are barely inches apart. “‘cause i hate when the moment’s expected.” you look at his lips then back at his eyes before smiling cheekily.
you step back from him, slowly and matching the beat. mark follows, curling his lips as he pops his body to the beat.
“so, i’ma care for you,” you stop and look to the side. “you,” mark snakes his hands up your waist and under your breasts. “you.” he smirks and gropes your breasts.
you shove him off you and walk away from him, shutting off the music and turning back to the mark and the crowd.
“damn, you guys choreographed this?” taeyong asks while slipping on his beanie.
“yeah,” mark smoothly fixes his hard-on while staring you down.
“the tension is there, it’s sexy.. hot.. hungry.. just a sexy type of tension is what i’m getting from this routine and i love it.” johnny says.
you snatch your water bottle and unscrew the top. “that’s what we were going for, weren’t we, y/n?” you nod while chugging down a few gulps.
“we’re still working on a few things. i’m a bit rusty and mark has to.. loosen me up a bit.” you screw your lid back on and wipe your sweat away with your backhand.
“although,” you set your water bottle and catch everyone’s attention. “the boob grabbing wasn’t apart of the routine, now was it, mark?”
everyone turns their attention to mark who turns into a tomato. “uhh.. it wasn’t.”
“i think it looks amazing right now.” jungwoo comments. “thanks, pup.” you wink and jungwoo who giggles right after.
“i think you guys should keep that part in, it makes the tension and chreo look more better and attractive.” one of the dance instructor comments.
you look at mark while biting your thumb. “i guess we could make it work, can’t we, markie?” mark lifts his eyes to you and slowly his lips turn into a smirk. “yeah, i guess we can.”
you sigh and clear your throat. “well, i have to go. need to go feed my friends cats and turtles since he’s on vacation in italy.” you grab your things and leave while bidding everyone, excluding mark, a goodbye.
excluding mark; you were going to see him later anyway.
“yeah, yeah. see you guys later!” you could hear marks faint voice while you turned a corner.
feet hitting the floor and loud pants have your head turning. it was mark obviously.
“mark, go back to practice. you’ll see me later.” mark grabs your hand and turns you. “he?” your eyebrows pinch confusingly. “what are you talking about?”
“you said he earlier in the practice room. who is this he dude?” you roll your eyes and fix the strap on your shoulder. “it’s just an old friend from my high school.”
when you try to walk past mark, he pushes you against the wall. “old friend, huh?”
you could hear faint voices from the next hall and it triggered your brain. “mark! get off me, do you want people seeing us like this?!” you whisper and push mark.
mark looks toward the direction where the voices could be heard and sighs, taking your hand and dragging you to an empty dance studio.
“i don’t care, y/n.” mark says after shutting the door, he hits the lights and lights the room in a dim way.
“what do you mean you don’t care, mark. what’s been up your ass this past week? being possessive, obsessive, clingy, bold and letting us get caught by haechan? you’re the one who started this, mark. sure, we fuck but you said no strings attached. stop tugging me in different directions and give me a full on answer!”
after your little rampage, mark grabs you by the jaw and slams his lips against yours. you kiss back and moan, ignoring the taste of blood mixing with his sweet watermelon chapstick.
marks hands move down to your breasts and he tugs down the stretch fabric. exposing your breasts and letting your nipples grow hard.
“fuck,” you mumble in between the kiss and drop your bag, it hits the floor with a thud.
mark grabs your leg and pins your thigh against his waist. you moan when feeling his hard bulge pressed against your thigh.
mark pulls away, biting his lip. “you taste so sweet.” he lifts you off the ground and brings you over to the couch.
“can you be a good girl and ride me?” you bite your lip and slide off marks lap. you kick off your shoes and undress yourself all while mark pushes down his sweats and frees his hard-on.
with excitement bursting through every part of your body, you climb back on marks lap and sink yourself down his cock.
with moans coming from both you and mark, you bounce your hips slowly. taking in the thickness and length of mark.
“you feel so good, markie.” you moan and hide your face in the crook of his neck.
you squeal when mark lands a spank on your ass. “you’re doing so well for me, baby.” mark groans, cupping your ass with his hands and giving your ass more spanks.
you roll your hips side to side and in circles. every now and then, clenching around mark who’d groan every time you did that.
mark reaches in his pocket and pulls out his phone. “wh— what’re you doing?” you ask while panting and slowing your hips down.
“can i record this?” you look behind you to see your ass pushed out with mark inside you, the view in the mirror was amazing.
“yes,” you turn back to mark.
mark hits the record button and spanks you, you let out a moan and jerk forward. the head of marks cock stays out inside you before mark pushes down your hips.
“oohh, fuck.” you sigh, the thickness of mark filling you up oh, so perfectly.
you bounce your hips and hug mark to your chest, his mouth collecting your nipple. you moan and arch your back, pushing your breast more into his face.
mark brings his hand up to his mouth and sucks on his finger. you gasp and slow down your hips when feeling mark push a finger into your ass. “mark,” you whisper. “i’m sorry,” he pulls his finger away from you. “i should’ve asked first.”
you look down at him. “no.. it’s fine, i.. liked it.” mark smiles a little and circles your rim before pushing in gently.
you pick up your pace and bounce your hips in the same pace as before.
“fuck,” mark growls and stops recording. he tosses his phone aside and picks you up, gently setting you aside and then pulling you off the couch with him.
mark kicks off his shoes and steps out of his sweats.
“i want you to watch me fuck you.” mark pulls you in front of him with his hands on your naked hips.
mark knocks your legs apart and bends you forward. he grabs his cock and looks at you through the mirror. “watch, alright?” you nod and stumble forward when feeling mark push into you.
“oh, fuck.” you moan, hands on your knees while you watch as mark lifts his shirt, tucking it under his chin and showing off his shaded abs.
mark holds your hips with both his hands and fucks into you. his hips already roughly pounding into you. your loose hair bouncing with every thrust.
“you feel so good, y/n. so fuckin’ good.” mark moans and tilts his hips to the side, giving himself a good view of his cock slipping in and out of you.
mark hisses and pinches your hips while thrusting his hips. his hands coming up and grabbing your shoulders, pulling them back and tucking his arms under yours.
your back to his chest, your breasts bouncing freely, you on your tiptoes and your hands grabbing marks nape.
“fuck, baby.” mark hugs your waist with one arm and uses the other hand to rub your clit.
your knees buckle and your moans fill up the room. you free mark and you fall forward, knees bent and hands on them while mark still fucks you.
“you’re so perfect.” you clench around him and squeeze your knees together. “i—i’m cumming.. god, i’m gonna fucking cum.” you mumble, eyebrows pinching together as you frown.
“yeah, baby. cum on my cock. show me how good i fuckin’ make you feel.” without being told another time, you cum.
creaming all over marks cock before he shoots into you without warning. “fuck— mark!” he pulls out and jerks himself on your back.
mark pulls you up and turns you to him. “so,” he sighs and holds your waist. “how’s that for an answer?” you bite your lip and look down, trying to hide your flushed face.
mark grabs your jaw and makes you look him in the eyes, his eyebrows flicking up once, asking you to answer.
“it’s a.. good way to answer.” mark kisses you with a giggle. “exactly, now let me clean you up then we can go get dinner and talk about this whole situation.”
“so, you like me.” you say, chewing down your chicken drumstick.
mark snorts, “and, you like me.”
you look to the side and grab your cola can, chugging a bit down and sighing at the fizzy after taste in your throat.
mark sets down his chicken breast and grabs a small onion ring. “miss y/n,” you look down at his hand and snort. “will you do the honors and be my one and only girlfriend.”
mark holds the onion ring with two hands and touches his chin to his chest. “i, (last name) y/n, will do the honors and be your one and only girlfriend.” you hold out your hand and mark slides the onion ring on your middle finger.
“cute.” you examine the onion ring.
“look at me, baby.” you look up to see mark holding his phone up in a position that said he was ready to take a photo.
you hold your hand with the onion ring next to your face and you smile big.
“say, cheeseee!” mark says.
“cheeseee!” you repeat after him with a giggle.
when seeing mark lower his phone, you lower your hand. “you’re so beautiful.” mark giggles and shows you the photo. “you’re good at taking pictures.”
“i’m even better at taking videos. you should see the one i took earlier.” you gasp.
the video he took earlier in the practice room!
“you better delete that, mark lee!” you whisper in a hushed tone. “but, send it to me before you do.”
mark reaches over the table and rubs your cheek, you lean into his touch before he hands disappears. “wha— mark!” you tsk and smack his hand away when feeling his hand cup your breast.
“we’re in public, you perv!” you repeated push his hand away when mark comes back for more. “that’s never stopped us before, has it?”
“oh, shut up! do not touch, mister mark lee.” you back up with your hands crossed in front of your chest.
“i’ll always have access later.” mark says with a shrug.
AN| pt.2 | just like my PUNCH post, it literally has ALMOST nothing to do with the title. i tried to including it but i only tried to include it after i wrote everything and it just didn’t work out for me. but, omg i’ve been so obsessed with ‘Do Not Touch’ by MISAMO. it’s me and sneakylinks current new song beside ‘New Jeans’ by NewJeans. anyway, i hope you enjoyed reading this even though it got very sloppy in the end (i really wasn’t feeling the ending). love you all and thank you to the anon who sent this in a while ago.. i only just answered this now.. sorry, love you! <3
#ash talks#nct smut#nctsplug02#nct scenarios#kpop imagines#kpop smut#anon#nct 127#kpop fluff#nct imagines#nct mark#superm mark#mark smut#mark fluff#mark lee smut#nerdy mark#mark lee#nct fwb
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
museum crush
author's note. wish i could say it was based on a real story but it was definitely inspired by one lol!! when i was in a museum in rome there were two guys and they entered briefly after me ,, we just kept awkwardly looking at each other lol it was so goofy because we passed each other all the time and i could hear their comments on the art … it was so cute lol but they left before me so … anyways . . . . . .
summary. in which a visit to a museum results in a sudden surprise
peaceful silence filled with the air conditioning pleasantly humming in the room surrounded you. your eyes were scanning the beautiful painting in front of you. all the details, the way the oil paint slightly shine due to the lamps and – something you adored – the gentle cracks in the canvas. they only added originality to the paining and showed the age of the–
“this one looks like mark when he wakes up early…”
giggles reached your ears and you turned around with a small smile.
two guys entered the museum after you. you were walking quite slowly, appreciating the art around you and all the small descriptions. sometimes you passed them and the other time, they passed you. exchanging looks while you walked by, you couldn’t help but smile at their little comments or poses they stroke while trying to recreate the characters on paintings or sculptures.
“shut up”
you scoffed and moved on to another room slowly, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the spacious room.
you heard some whispers and then silence.
watching and adoring the art, you moved to the stairs to go to another floor. that’s when you heard their voices again.
“dude… stop”
“this is so awkward”
“you’re the one making it awkward–“
you shook your head and finally arrived to another room: the one you were most excited about.
after walking into the room and going to the left, they moved to right. while you were still feasting your eyes with one of the stunning paintings you’ve ever seen, they were done and moved to you.
“just, um… we’re not following you, if you’re wondering” a voice rung behind you.
you turned around, shocked, only to meet the cute guy. his wide smile was quite contagious, mischief sparkling in his eyes. his friend, however, hid his face behind his hands and pretended to look the other way.
“you’re pretty cute, so i don’t mind” you hummed and instantly regretted your sudden confidence. the guy, though, seemed to like your response.
“pretty cute? but more pretty or more cute? ah, why not handsome?” he cocked and eyebrow and you just chuckled
“more cute” you smiled and pointed at his friend “he looks like he just waits for the ground to swallow him”
“he’s just… no fun. but uh, we’ll keep going. i just wanted to let you know. see ya in another room, maybe…?” the guy sent you a boyish look and almost immediately got dragged away by his friend. all you could hear was the whisper-shouting conversation they had:
“she called me cute, renjun!”
“yeah but… w h y…”
“because she is cute too!”
“well, okay but– oh woah! this is the sculpture i told you about!”
you let out a shaky breath, not truly believing what happened.
you passed each other two more times, each time exchanging looks with the guy who talked to you. his eyes lingered on you instead of the art, his friend’s words of praise about certain art pieces felt deaf on his ears. the stranger was mesmerised by you.
stepping into the souvenir shop, you were kind of disappointed that your ways will part. scanning through some overpriced magnets, you felt a tap on your arm.
there he was again, with his boyish grin.
the man handed you a postcard and winked, catching up with his friend.
the postcard was showing the art piece you were looking at when the guy approached you. cute.
then you turned it around and gasped, heart thumping in your chest.
in a room full of art, i’d still look at you. if you ever want to go together (without my nerdy friend), let me know ;)
xxx-xxx-xxx na jaemin :D
masterlist <3
taglist. @l3visbby ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @w3bqrl
#nct drabbles#nct dream fluff#nct dream#nct dream drabbles#nct dream imagines#nct dream scenarios#nct dream x reader#nct dream x you#nct dream soft hours#jaemin#jaemin x reader#jaemin x you#jaemin x y/n#jaemin fluff#jaemin fanfic#jaemin drabbles#jaemin scenarios#jaemin imagines#nct fluff#nct imagines#nct
541 notes
·
View notes
Text
EXAMINING EVERY ACE ATTORNEY CASE ON THE LIKENESS OF US BEING PAID
The topic that must be finally put to rest considering how every AA protag and money issues go hand in hand, how many cases did we actually get paid for?
PHOENIX WRIGHT: BROKE ATTORNEY
1 - literally spelled out by the game that larry left us with fuckall, a bad omen of the life to come.
2 - nothing could scare the law offices' balance sheet more than the entrance of maya, but in the frenzy of fighting for the life of our workspace we didnt even notice the whiff of the long-lasting implications.
3 - okay this is the first $u$pect that can pay our bills, no way will powers left us without a relatively phat check so GIRL WE MAKING MONEY!
4 - genuinely if edgelord somehow figured that money dont matter in a friendship, either it was my wallet that bullied him into killing himself between these games or he at least had the decency to utilise von karma's leaked pin code situation and allowed us to drain his bank account posthumously. either way my belief that edgeworth got the bill paid here is naively high.
5 - i dont care if lana was going to pay or not bc i billed her for every fucking turn she did at the detention center. either way whether her estate got arrested in the investigation or not it seems like she'd be forced to pay so im staying positive.
ACE ATTORNEY: RAMEN FOR ALL
1 - maggie. what exactly can maggie even pay me. i feel like the case was more of a friend request anyway so we're eating roaches for dinner again, but i also feel that maggie would be inclined to offer at least something. im not sure if putting down a "presumable twenty" counts as success. i'm going to go with no.
2 - maya is starting to get slightly comfortable being a liability to my expenses, this is my first warning girl.
3 - MAXIMUM GALACTIC PROFIT??? OH HE PAYIN. OH HE PAYIN EVERYTHING OUT OF HIS CLOWN ASS. CONFIRMED. FORCED.
4 - this HAS to be a case of the arrested estate being distributed towards paying the fee because i absolutely refuse to live in a world where maya's existence just keeps costing me money. engarde better have paid for it all. the gallows dont drop until he signs my check.
ACE ATTORNEY: TROUBLES AND REMUNERATION
1 - a very big question mark about what can peenie the fail art student pay and whether grossberg is someone who entertains himself a free case. the existence of case 4 may actually suggest something interesting so let's come back to this one later.
2 - i dont care what kind of crippling debt ma$k has because if his wife can allow a bike she CAN, and WILL, pay my fucking fee i dont care. she looks like the type to pay anyway.
3 - maggie. maggie, maggie, maggie. what does it matter musing on how things would've turned out differently if they had actually remembered my face in time. in either universe, this is another expense, in a crisis where my laundry bill is financially ruining me as coffee cups keep flying in my face.
4 - this is a convict already. what can a convict pay to grossberg law offices? suddenly it looks like his gig takes up on free cases bc usually this dude would get a state attorney, right? is grossberg providing such services? if we are getting paid here, it is only the bare minimum it seems, so in retrospect it IS possible for case 1 to have been completely unpaid. as for this one, marking it as unpaid bc Doubt what we'd get could even pay for a single-ply toilet paper + they'd find a way to pay out even less considering the trial technically didn't go through smh.
5 - bitchass fucking fey family, call it THE FEE FAMILY for the way NONE OF THEM ARE PAYING IT!!!! THEY PUT ME IN THE HOSPITAL!!!!!!!!!!!! FUCK FRIENDSHIP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Chronologically we have edgelord's two investigation games next so:
THESE TWO GAMES FOLLOW SEVERAL CASES CONDUCTED FOR A MILLIONAIRE'S OWN ENTERTAINMENT. WE DO NOT CONDONE MONEY PRIVILEDGE BEHAVIOUR AND WE BOYCOTT THE ANALYSIS OF THESE GAMES.
MONETARY JUSTICE: ACE ATTORNEY
1 - well money was probably one thing in the whole mess there, sure. Dick Wright jailed this barbie girl motherfucker just so he wouldn't pay the bill. girl we making no money era is back.
2 - weirdly enough but god might exist after all because no way the kitakis are not paying me. we are saved!!!!!
3 - in a grand twist, there is also no way that these moneyfucks are not signing me a phat one so big bet a hot meal was had that day! i think after lamiroir regained her memories she just decided that this fee was her paying off child support for both kids and fucked off forever.
4 - boy I lost my god damn job.
5 - an interesting situation here because this case was most likely sponsored by the state since it's testing out the jury system and all so. we got paid? almost three cases in a row? WOE MAMA!
ACE ATTORNEY: DOUGH'S DESTINY
1 - not this shit again. another freeloader caught up in the scheme of my monetary ruin. at the time when a teenager is feeding a company of four. peenie's new drip alone cost us six months worth of rent. girl we eating discarded prison gruel at the dumpster in this dark age of the law.
2 - oh a wrestler AND a mayor? oho. ohohohoho. ohohohohohoho.
3 - the humble beginnings of my empty wallet, innit. sure, let her get away this time. not my first rodeo.
4 - starbuck for the love of god i know they said their budget went down but he is PAYING that bill or im cutting wires on his rocket and doing phantom a favor here. he can afford to pay me.
5 - maya sure evaded leaving her footprint on my taxes but there's such a sweet difference between an employee and an independent contractor and athena saw why. sure, free case! its cost is taken out of your salary, baby. you're not eating for four months. at least.
6 - hey the aquarium folks Surely have the dough, right? they found us themselves too so that's a definite bill here.
BROKE ATTORNEY: NO SPIRIT OF JUSTICE
every case in the russian republic of village kurainovo was free which is a devastating stain on my financial report this year, remember how durke said we probably cant afford three meals per day? hello????
1 - motherfucker. this case actually cost us about 20 brazilian roubles because albi charged us for the magatama edible. the first case that lands us in the negative twenty. incredible.
2 - i fucking. if trucy thinks her main breadwinner status excuses her from freeloading a case that almost landed us in 3m debt then im selling rights to the gramarye IP to bozo the clown. family is Nothing to me. i havent eaten properly since 2016.
3 - stop fucking reminding me. not only that but fucking MAYA. THE BIGGEST EXPENSE IN MY LIFE IS BACK WITH NO JUSTICE DONE TO MY FINANCIAL WELLBEING. i havent showered in months. remember how nick told edgeworth that he "heard" that washing in the sink is good enough in the temple? so he didnt even do that himself. the lowest point of my life.
4 - with the urgency of it all and everything i have a strong suspicion the payment of this case was soba. max of what we're getting is food from that place. im shaking does this count as fair barter economy in their eyes? we're not in ancient fucking egypt.
5 - penniless, fatherless, across two countries too. whats not to like in this world. we havent seen a cent in this entire game.
6 - THE $PROKET$???? HELL YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
Let's count the results:
31 cases across 6 games
13/31 cases most likely than not were paid for in acceptable capacity, which is less than a half. if we exclude cases where the situation isn't entirely clear (eg. engarde, lana), that is even less and we are looking at a third of all cases being remunerated for.
despite quite a few of the presumably paid cases involving rich clients, our gig most likely charges standardised fees, which makes the wealth of our clients irrelevant and simply further questions how much we actually made at the end of the day.
they are not lying, we really are making no money. this is concerning. ga'ran was right, fuck the attorneys just go and pick a state-backed position with the forces.
525 notes
·
View notes
Text
Billy asks you out but you have no idea its because Jason paid him to and it's for revenge against Hellfire.
Eddie, is pissed about your date but his protective side comes out when he finds out what happened.
Reader is Hoppers niece in this story. She can be adopted or through family, it's up to you. 💕
Jealousy, protective Eddie, fluff. Minors dni, 18+ don't copy, translate or repost my work.
Season four Au, Billy is alive.
❤️
Tonight should have been a good night. It was your first date in a while and you were hoping it went well. You should have realised it was doomed from the start, especially as it had caused you and Eddie to have a really bad fight.
He wasn't happy about your date with Billy and an argument between the two of you erupted during lunch two days ago, you hadn't spoke to each other since then.
It made sitting at the Hellfire table very awkward and poor Dustin had given up trying to get the two of you to talk to each other.
According to Eddie there was no way that Billy had changed, he'd only hurt you, etc. You were a believer in second chances, though maybe you should have been more wary just like Eddie said.
Billy had taken you to see some new horror movie and invited you to hang out with a friend of his after.
The minute that Jason showed up at the end of your date alarm bells rang in your head. He walked right up to Billy and handed him a hundred bucks, sneering at you and then turning back to Billy.
"Wow. Well done dude, this went better than I thought" Jason laughed and Billy had this stupid smirk on his face.
It was a bet Billy explained. A hundred bucks to date you, cause some friction with Eddie and then let you find out, humiliating you. It was Jason's idea for revenge on Hellfire, it left you feeling sick to your stomach and Jason's laughter followed you along the way, as you raced out of the movie theatre.
Now you were back at home. Tears running down your cheeks and your heart aching, you can't believe you were so stupid to give Billy a chance. Not only were you humiliated but Eddie wasn't speaking to you either.
The thought of facing Jason tomorrow at school made you toss and turn all night, however you were determined to get back at the asshole one way or another.
...
Jason's smug smirk at seeing you first thing soon disappeared when in art class your paint supplies accidentally went over his lucky letterman jacket.
You adopted your most innocent expression when the teacher asked you if it was an accident, acted flustered and said you were sorry to Jason.
When the teachers back was turned the apologetic expression vanished from your face and you smirked at an enraged Jason.
"Paybacks a bitch huh?"
That felt really good. However your good mood vanished as soon as it was lunchtime. Eddie was still grumpy and the tension between the two of you was awful.
Between this and the disappointment that your first date in ages was just a stupid bet, you were feeling close to tears. All it took was Gareth turning to you, giving a nervous glance to Eddie then asking how the date went for you to almost crumble.
"I don't want to talk about it" you mumble and Eddie looks at you for the first time in days, folds his arms across his chest and huffs annoyed.
"Jesus h christ, so you ignore my advice and it turns out exactly how I thought it would?" his tone chips away at your bruised heart and you meet Eddie's gaze.
You try to act nonchalant but the facade quickly fades and your lip wobbles, the ache in your chest hurting again. The anger leaves Eddie's eyes immediately.
"It was a bet okay! So you were right Eddie. Billy is still an asshole and he got paid by Jason to humiliate me" you snap and gather your stuff not wanting to hear Eddie say I told you so.
If you were being honest some part of you deep down only went on this date to see how Eddie would react. For a while you suspected he might have feelings for you.
Obviously you were wrong. He didn't want you that way. Maybe he was wondering why Billy even wanted to date you in the first place.
Whatever. You didn't need this shit from him and promptly walked away from the Hellfire table.
❤️
Eddie couldn't remember the last time he had been this mad. The very feeling coursing through his veins, had propelled him to seek out Jason and he found the asshole laughing with one of his douchebag friends.
"Hey Munson, you ask your friend how her date went last night? Jason throws the jibe at him, smirks and fist bumps his friend.
His amusement only lasts for a few seconds because he soon sees the look in Eddie's eyes, the one that sends him scampering back and turning paler by the minute.
"You stay away from me freak. I mean it" Eddie ignores him, moves closer to Jason and glares at him.
"Let's get one thing straight Carver. You wanna mess with me then fine, you don't use my friends to do it. Especially not her, understand?" Carver isn't so cocky now, merely nods as his friend hightails it in the other direction.
"Why do you think I went after her freak. She's like your weakness or something" Eddie stills as Jason's words hit him. The thing is the douchebag wasn't wrong.
"I mean it man. You hurt even the tiniest hair on her head I swear you'll regret it" he pushes him away and then stalks off making plans to deal with Billy next.
❤️
The opportunity presents itself the next day when Billy as per usual came to the trailer for his weeks supply of weed, "a little something to deal with living in this shithole town" Billy would say and in all honesty Eddie agreed with him.
Well until he decided to fuck with you. Now as far as Eddie was concerned, Billy Hargrove could go and fuck himself.
Just the sight of him coming into the trailer with his signature smirk and an expectant look, set Eddie's teeth on edge and then Billy makes it worse, subtly rubs in what he's done.
"Got a windfall this week Munson so hit me with the good stuff" Eddie has to dig his nails into his hands to stop himself from doing something stupid, like lunging at this smug asshole. He can't believe Billy would have the fucking audacity to be so boastful about what he done.
Not that he expected that Billy would give a fuck about hurting you but he figured there might be guilt or some shit. His jaw tightens and he shoots Billy a dark look.
"Yeah there's nothing here for you dude, you're cut off" he stares coldly at Billy, who looks offended that Eddie is refusing to give him anything.
"You can't do that Munson, I'm a paying customer so give me my fucking weed" the harshness in Billy's tone barely effects Eddie, he's too pissed at what Billy has done to give a fuck about how angry this douchebag is.
"I don't want it man. You think you can hurt my girl and I'd still sell you shit? You're lucky I don't beat your ass, might land me a broken arm or some shit but it would be worth it"
Billy snorts "All of this for her" he points to you and Eddie swears, he didn't realise you had arrived and had heard everything, standing at the trailer door looking stunned.
"All of it. Now fuck off dude" he gestures to the door and Billy scoffs and marches up to him.
"You know I could tell the chief all about your dealing and shit. He'd fast track you to jail and you'd be exactly like daddy" Eddie's fist tightens at Billy's threat but he ignores it, the asshole is talking shit.
"Go ahead. Sure Hop would love to know that you messed with his niece and humiliated her. Bet you'll be right at the top of his Christmas card list dude" Billy's eyes widen, then he swears and storms out of the trailer.
Heat gathers in Eddie's cheeks as you walk over to him. The look on your face has him feeling out of sorts, with a desperate need to take you in his arms and kiss you senseless.
But you only saw him as a friend didn't you? That's why he was such a douchebag this week, yeah because of Billy's reputation and he was scared you'd get hurt but also because he was so fucking jealous.
Not that he'd ever tell you how he felt. There was no way he was having that conversation with you. Fuck, now that would be mortifying.
So imagine his shock when you kiss his cheek, so very near his lips that it makes his brain short circuit for a few seconds and he's genuinely stunned.
"Maybe next time we could try a real kiss" you suggest and Eddie comes to with the biggest beaming smile on his face.
"I'd like that princess. That's why I was such a dick this week. I'm sorry, I was jealous that you went a date with Hargrove when I've been wanting to ask you out for months"
He feels like he might explode when you trail your hand up his chest, he's eager to kiss you, touch you and make you his.
"How about you take me on a date right now Eddie? See I figured out that there's no one I'd rather be with than you. Took me some time to realise that but I don't plan on wasting anymore time"
Your words are like music to his ears and the grin doesn't leave his face when you move closer to him and exchange your first kiss.
And just like that you and Eddie were exactly where you were supposed to be.
❤️
286 notes
·
View notes
Text
the way you do the things you do / angus tully x reader — part one
summary / chaos is only natural when barton's resident misfit strikes up a bond with the middle child of the school's most despised instructor.
warnings / none
word count / 1,300+
hii! this one goes out to the very wise anon who suggested a plot revolving around angus and mr. hunham's kid, which, i must say, is an utterly brilliant concept. however, it turned out to be a lot longer than just a mere one-shot like my first one had been, so it'll probably end up being two or three parts. i hope that's okay, lovely anon. thank you for sharing your brilliance with me!
Moreso than anything else, the relationship between the two of you started as an agreement. Well, an unspoken one, but an agreement nonetheless. Somebody had to look out for the two of you, on equal footing as outliers, as social rejects, as the odd men out. No one could be better for that role than you yourselves.
To your utter dismay, ever since your parents made the decision to ship you off to Barton Academy in order to get you “the best education available” for high school (which was made possible by your father’s half-off tuition staff discount), you found yourself under a level of scrutiny that you never once faced at your old public junior high. It was not your intention to be perceived as the offspring of the most hated man there, either, but word travels quicker than a deer crossing the road at Barton. A concept introduced to the dean on a Sunday morning ends up widely-understood knowledge by a Monday evening. You’d already been written off as the ‘spawn of Satan’ before you even started your first class. Tough fuckin’ luck.
On the other hand, Angus’s isolation was entirely self-imposed. Following several years of what his mother had promised would be a “short-lived maintenance phase,” he became fed up with the entire process — the constant shifting and forced socialization and paperwork and meetings with headmasters. Lather, rinse, repeat, over and over until he felt utterly insane. He grew to resist society’s forced conditioning of him, lashing out the only way he knew how, through acts of adolescent rebellion. Due to how much you contrast from your stickler father, you eventually saw eye to eye with Angus on this. Once you had finally worn him down to the point of dragging a tragic backstory out of him, you understood why, because, of course no teenager could possibly be interested in the art of befriending their peers and engrossing themselves in a community at their third consecutive school.
But it didn’t start off too swimmingly.
He entered your life on the strangest day of the week, during the least-interesting possible time of year — a Thursday in late February. You learned of his arrival through the grapevine, mere hours before you first saw him. Perched at a seat towards the very corner of the dining hall, you had become increasingly intrigued by the nearby nonstop chatter from a group populated by Georgie Jackson, Philip McNamara, Billy Wolfe, and Teddy Kountze, a rare sight in the seven o’clock breakfast setting, which was typically chock full of half-dead, completely exhausted teenagers.
“You wanna bet it’s gonna be another freak?” Teddy had grumbled, shaking his head dismissively at something optimistic Georgie must have said. “They’re half the school, at this point.”
He not-so-transparently nodded towards you, earning him in-sync laughs from the more agreeable Philip and Billy, and a halfhearted head shake from Georgie. “Christ, dude. And you wonder why we’re the only kids who tolerate you.”
Teddy threw his hands up defensively. “Hey, I’m just sayin’! We could benefit from someone actually cool and fun.”
“God, could you imagine how cool a girl would be?” Billy daydreamed, practically drooling.
The shaggy-haired blonde smirked. “You’re telling me. That’s all I wanted since I first enrolled here. Would be nice if old man Woodrup would do what the student body actually wants, for once.”
“Instead,” Philip piped up, wearing a dejected pouty frown. “I’m hearing this guy got kicked outta three different schools.”
Your curiosity piqued, you finally jumped in, against your better judgment. “What could possibly get a teenage boy tossed from not one, not two, but three schools? That sounds utterly ridiculous.”
The energy sufficiently changed as Teddy shot you a poisonous glare, you watched the trio of his small-time henchmen sink into their seats, seemingly anxious at how angry you were about to make him. His scrunched-up face twisted into a confident smirk, like he was one-thousand percent confident he could ensure you would never speak to him again. “What’s it to you, Walleye Jr.? You think I’d lie about some shit like that? Would you tell your daddy if I did?”
A scoff escaping your throat, you leaned back into your seat, slightly dejected. “Well, no, but-”
“That’s what I thought,” Teddy said, his lackeys chuckling in unison, practically on cue. “And you wonder why you don’t have any friends, loser.”
Just like that, enforced unnecessary social hierarchy had left you right back where you were before, with more questions than you could ever get proper answers for.
Once lunch period rolled around, you figured you may as well not try your luck again.
Wrapping a gentle fist against the surface of your father’s door, you barely had to stand by for more than a few moments before he greeted you, the smile that he saved for you and the rest of your family plastered across his cheeks as he slung an arm across your shoulder, pulling you into a casual hug. Due to the academy’s policy of teacher’s children not being allowed to take their parent’s classes to avoid favoritism, you no longer spent time with him every day as you typically did with your mother back home. The reunion was definitely something you had been yearning for since you last saw him, even though it must have been no less than a week ago last Sunday. For the first time in far too long, something at Barton brought joy back to you.
“How have you been, sweetheart?” your father asked, his reading glasses bouncing slightly on the bridge of his nose as he sat back down at his desk. He pointed to the chair on the other end of it, offering it to you. You gladly accepted, tugging the seat out and sliding into it.
You shrugged at the question, trying not to pay Kountze and his gang of blockheads too much mind. “Fine. Haven’t really done anything too notable or special.”
“Well, hey,” he offered, sliding a sheet labeled roll call across the desk to you. “Maybe this’ll brighten your spirits, despite how much the prospect of it annoys me.”
As soon as he finishes speaking, you instantly know what he was referring to, your eyes catching on the highlighted name sandwiched between Neil Sweeney and Todd Wedderling, bearing an emboldened word next to it — Angus Tully (NEW). And then, like it were on cue, the door behind the two of you swung open, revealing the sight of an instantly-enrapturing bearer of deeply brown eyes.
“Ah, Mr. Tully,” your father remarked, rising from the desk to greet him. “What a coincidence. I was just introducing them to you.”
Angus snorted. “All good things, I hope.”
“You’ve yet to prove us otherwise,” the older man quipped, before quickly turning toward you. “This is my middle child, the one Dr. Woodrup told you about. They’re a sophomore like you, so even though you won’t be in my class together, I’m sure you’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”
Picking up on the hint, you offer the other teenager a hand, which he casually shakes. “Pleasure to meet you, Angus.”
The brunette offered a crooked half-smile, enough to draw one out of you, too. “Nice to meet you as well.” Everything about him seemed natural — the way he didn’t force his grin, the warmth of his palm, the distinct waviness of his mud-shaded curls. This school left you perpetually surrounded by well-off jackasses, standing where they were currently placed via generational wealth, rather than strength and perseverance, working off of their own merits as your father had. Not to say that Tully was dissimilar in that manner, but he just felt so distinctly different, like he was not even trying to cultivate a phony persona in the effort of impressing others. If only everyone were like him. Maybe Barton would be bearable after all.
#angus tully x reader#angus tully#the holdovers 2023#ziggy writes shit#lyric from the AMAZING temptations song#go stream that if you haven't!#anon request
155 notes
·
View notes
Text
Matt’s Teammate 💙
You get selected by Laura to be Matt’s teammate at The Versus Tour. As you compete together, Matt seems a bit off his game, because he has instantly started crushing on you. Matt knows that there’s a chance he may never even see you again… but that changes after he talks with Nick and Chris backstage after the show.
matt sturniolo x fem! reader
warnings: slight cursing
themes: tons of fluff
author’s note: haven’t been to a show yet so idk what order the challenges are in so I might have gotten them mixed up but you get the idea :)
You stood watching the show live from the television backstage waiting for the triplets to introduce their teammates for the challenges. Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest— you couldn’t even believe this was genuinely happening to you.
“Okay Y/N, the boys should be ready for you three in about two minutes. I told the other girls to line up by the curtain if you could join them over there for me.” Laura, their manager, said to you gesturing to where the other teammates were standing.
“Sure!… I don’t know if I have ever been this nervous before, honestly.” You say letting out a deep sigh all while a big smile was plastered across your face.
“Awe don’t worry hun they are sweet kids and I’m sure Matt will make you feel comfortable once you’ve sat with him for a bit. Good luck, and remember to have fun!” Laura’s words of encouragement made you feel a bit better. The two of you walked over to the curtain just behind the stage. You could just barely see the stage through the opening of the curtain where you saw the canvases, aprons, and paints already set up for your first challenge.
“Alright you guys so as you already know we have a few challenges set up for us tonight that we will be doing with a fan from tonight’s show. Let’s welcome our teammates for the night!” Nick says through the microphone as the audience erupts in cheers. Oh man, here we go! You think to yourself as you follow the others out past the curtain into the bright stage lights.
Matt’s POV:
I watch as our teammates come on stage, and keep my eye out for a girl in blue. I see as she turns the corner, and I am stunned. She’s dressed in a cute sporty blue top and joggers, but it was her smile that immediately caught my attention. I’ve met tons of fans before, and many of them are very pretty, but she is beautiful. I felt like everything was in slow motion for a moment until she drew me out of my daydream.
“Hi Matt I’m Y/N, it’s so nice to meet you!” Ugh, even her voice was cute! She wraps her arms around my shoulders as mine wrap around her body as we hug. “I am such a big fan of yours!” She says as she gives me a soft squeeze before releasing the hug.
“Awesome!” I replied. Awesome? That was the best I could come up with?
***
We had already begun our “Work of Art” challenge, but I had to stand behind the canvas until the timer was finished. I watched Y/N’s face as she concentrated on painting all while laughing out of nervousness as she switched from color to color sporadically. Luckily, she was too concentrated on the challenge to notice me staring at her, admiring her beauty.
“Dude, Matt literally said the same thing.” Chris’s voice echoes through the microphone. “Right?” He says looking at me for approval. I was so zoned out looking an Y/N that I had no idea what he had even just said.
“Oh.. what? Ohh yeah yeah I did say that.” I stuttered, trying to bring myself back to reality and focus on the performance. Did I say what Chris said I said? No fucking clue. Nick turns and gives me a slightly confused look. “Matt, wake the fuck up we have a show to do bro!” Chris shouts and the audience erupts in laughter and cheers. I smile and let out a small laugh to hide my embarrassment. I turn back to Y/N to see she is already looking up at me with a small grin on her face. Great, now I’m really embarrassed. I’m hoping these colored stage lights can mask the fact that I feel my cheeks burning red at the moment.
Y/N POV:
The score was currently 5:7:8 with Chris in the lead, Nick in second, and Matt and I in last. We were off to a strong start from Matt winning popular vote, and us winning the painting challenge, then Matt scoring most of the baskets in the free throw challenge. We were down to the last challenge, the jenga showdown, which was by far the most tense. Though we were in last, I was still having such an amazing time.
I cheer Matt on as he gently pushes a block from out of the stack and places it on top the tower. He did it so easily and confidently that the audience roared in unison, screaming for Matt.
“Okay, maybe I can redeem myself in jenga, but Chris is still probably going to win… I’m sorry.” Matt turned and said as Nick took his turn. Matt looked at the ground, and had a defeated look on his face.
“Hey, don’t worry about it! We did are best, and we had fun which is far more important than winning in the end anyway.” I say, and he looks up and gives me a smile before putting his arm around me for a side hug. Our hug was interrupted by the audience screaming loudly, and we look to see the jenga blocks on the floor as Nick covers his face with his hands and stomps in anger at his team’s loss.
I cheer for Chris during his “crowning ceremony,” and he gave each of the teammates a hug as we congratulated them. I saw Nick, and gave him a big hug telling him I love him as I totally fangirl. Lastly, I turn to Matt who looks bummed from our loss.
“I had such an amazing time tonight! I hope you three have so much fun on the rest of the tour, and good luck! I’ll be rooting for you.” I say to Matt as I give him one last hug. I was surprised to find that he wasn’t pulling away from the hug right away as to finish the show, but he remained with his arms wrapped around me in a sentimental embrace. “It was great to meet you, Y/N. You’re an amazing teammate.” Matt says as he pulls away from the hug halfway, smiling down at me.
“K dude… let’s go.” Chris nudges Matt, and I realize I am the only teammate left on stage. I pull away fully and wave bye to the triplets as I exit the stage. What a night.
Matt’s POV:
My brothers and I were backstage packing the last of our things after finishing the post-show meet and greet and VIP backstage fan experience.
“Matt, are you okay? You seemed off tonight bro.” Chris says.
“Yeah I was gonna say the same thing but I haven’t had a chance to bring it up since the show ended. Is something going on?” Nick says concerned.
“Yeah… no. I don’t know. It’s stupid.” I said as I continued to pack and try to ignore the conversation.
“Come on Matt, you can tell us!” Says Nick.
“Was your teammate being freaking weird or something? Making you uncomfortable?” Chris exclaims as he comes to my side grabbing the things from my hands and putting them on the couch to stop me in my tracks.
“No she wasn’t weird at all. Her name is Y/N, and she was amazing. She is amazing. I wish you guys could’ve seen more of her because she was just so damn nice and sweet and—”
“Hot?” Chris cuts me off as he laughs.
“Well, yeah. I mean, she was beautiful. Not only that but in between challenges we were talking about how she appreciates my mental health content, and what videos of ours she likes. The whole show too she just had such a positive attitude and it made me feel really… happy. You know?” I said passionately, and I could feel the heat rising in my face once more.
“Aweeee Matty B you have a crush on a fan! That is too cute!” Nick says adoringly. “But seriously, she sounds wonderful. Did you get her social media or anything?” Nick asks, and by this point the three of us are all sitting together on the couch talking about it. I shook my head no.
“Okay, well, you got her name and she was on stage tonight so I’m sure something of her will pop up on social media somewhere.” Chris says.
“Why does it matter if she posts? Sure, I can follow her, but it’s not like I’m ever going to see her again or anything.” I snap at the two as I get off the couch and continue packing my bag.
“But why not though? Yeah she’s a fan, but she looked like she was around our age and she lives in the states as far as we know.” Chris says. “Mmm but she could have a boyfriend.” Chris says hesitantly.
“Or girlfriend!” Nick chimes in.
“Alright whatever, can we let this go and get to the bus?” I said, grabbing my bag and slinging it over my shoulder.
***
We walk out of the venue and hear the cheers of those fans who stayed behind after the show to watch us get back on the tour bus. I walked behind Chris and Nick, walking a bit slower, trying to scan the fans for Y/N, but no luck.
On the bus, I reposted the group instagram post of Chris’s win to my story. I took a picture from inside the bus, and captioned it “Even though I lost tonight I had fun, and that’s what matters 💙🩹”. I hit post, and immediately was getting tons of replies and tags. I was casually scrolling through my DM requests, when a username with “Y/N” catches my eye. I click on the request to view the message.
“You’re the best Matt! I hope to see you perform again in the future 🥰” the message read. I click on her profile. No way. It was Y/N! My heart started beating a little faster as I skimmed through her instagram feed. She was insanely attractive, and looked like a great person to be around, which I had gathered from our interaction tonight. I go back to the message and stare at it for a few minutes, my mind and heart racing. Do I reply to her message? Do I ask her out somehow? What if she does have a boyfriend, or girlfriend like Nick said? What if I make a complete ass of myself, or worse, she posts my reply all over the internet? I was playing a million different scenarios in my head. I’ve always been so shy, having trouble talking to girls I like, but my brothers and the fans have really boosted my confidence over this last year. I want to roll with that confidence…
“I had fun tonight, Y/N. You seem like a really great girl, and I would love to see you again if I can.” I typed out. I immediately hit send as to not give myself too much time to rethink my decision. Now, the waiting game. I throw my phone down on the table because staring at the screen waiting for her to reply made me too anxious. Chris and Nick came and sat down with me soon after, and I didn’t dare tell them what I just did in fear they’d yell at me, or tell me I made a huge mistake. Time goes by, and we watch tv as we travel to our next show. My phone dings, and I grab it as quick as I can to open the notification.
“Woah you’re smiling big, who’s that?” Nick asks.
I’m silent for a moment. In disbelief. Smiling from ear to ear.
“It’s Y/N!’
****************************
Thanks for reading my first Sturniolo short! Let me know if you’d want a part two! <3
UPDATE: Part 2 linked here !
#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo#sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo x reader#let’s trip tour#versus tour#youtube
334 notes
·
View notes
Text
Take my hand (we'll make it, I swear)
Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 3
Prompt: Mutual pining
Rated: G
CW: Steve getting vecna'd; Some violent imagery
Tags: Idiots in love; Fluff and angst
Notes: Based on this beautiful piece of art by @house-of-the-moving-image and that one "Steve gets vecna'd" brainworm I've had forever.
It's always different in the stories, Eddie thinks. When the heroes in the stories realize they're in love, it always comes as this big revelation. The sunlight will glisten off the fair lady's hair, or her eyes will sparkle like the stars in the sky and the hero will suddenly realize that he is in love.
It wasn't like that for him. No dramatic moment, no sudden epiphany. It just sort of … snuck up on him over the past year, and when he noticed, it was too late. He had fallen, completely and irredeemably.
Then again, he is no hero. And Steve is most certainly not a fair lady.
He is still beautiful, of course, lying here in the soft, green grass, hair tousled by the breeze, golden highlights brought out by the setting sun. Eddie's jacket draped over him to fight off the chill.
He's asleep, finally, after what seems like ages, pulled under by the exhaustion of the last few days and that fucking Bon Jovi song blaring from his headphones on an endless repeat loop.
Eddie huffs, twists the daisy he has plucked between his fingers. If he strains his ears, he can just make out the words.
Take my hand, we'll make it, I swear…
Steve's fingers twitch in the grass and Eddie's gaze flies to his face, half expecting to find his eyes wide open and sightless, half expecting him to start floating again and fuck, what will he do, he can't do shit, please, God, he can't-
But Steve’s eyes are closed, his face relaxed. Eddie sighs in relief. Then, following a sudden impulse, he reaches out and tucks the daisy into Steve's hair.
He's no hero and he can't do anything to protect him, but he can make sure he rests while he has the chance, can make sure he has music and beauty and sunlight surrounding him. It's what he deserves.
He deserves so much more.
The harsh snap of the tape ending almost makes him jump out of his skin. Steve flinches awake with an adorable little snort, hand flying up to pull the headphones off. His eyes dart around wildly for a second or two before they land on Eddie and he sags back to the ground.
"Hey," he smiles, voice still sleep-slurred and hoarse. "Sorry, did I doze off?"
The flower is still in his hair.
Eddie snorts, pillows his arms on his knees so that he can hide behind them.
"Are you kiddin' me, dude? You can sleep all you want."
Steve hums vaguely and props himself up on one elbow, busies himself with opening the walkman and turning the tape.
"Feels wrong though," he mutters. "Y’know… just chilling here while the kids-"
"Stevie," Eddie says. Maybe it comes out a bit too harsh, because those pretty eyes blink up at him, confused and a little hurt. He groans.
"The kids are old enough," he then continues, more softly. "They have Wheeler and Buckley with them. Not to mention Supergirl. You don't have to-"
"-babysit them anymore, I know." Steve flops back into the grass, worries his bottom lip between his teeth. "I still feel useless, though."
They stay silent for a while. The wind is getting chillier, now that the sun is dipping behind the trees, and Eddie is starting to shiver in his flannel.
"Thank you, though," Steve mumbles. "For staying around, I appreciate it."
He sounds so small and lost and scared. Eddie plucks another flower so he won't have to look at his face. Hopes that Supergirl will tear Vecna's shrivelled black heart out through his ass and squish it under her shoe like a bug.
"Anything for you, Stevie," he says. Means it.
Steve blinks at him and quickly turns his head, but Eddie imagines he sees the ghost of a smile twitching at his lips.
"Eddie?"
"Hm?"
"I …" Steve watches the blades of grass glide through his fingers. "There's, um … something I've been meaning to tell you, but … I think I'm scared of what you'll say."
Eddie chuckles. "Oh, I already know."
Steve's hand freezes. "You do?"
"Absolutely, man," Eddie nods. "You're not being exactly subtle. There's no way the snack mix comes with that few pretzels, of course you're stuffing them in your face in the kitchen. I mean, be hone- ow!"
Steve has just punched his arm.
"It's not about the pretzels, you asshole," he grins, but then his face goes serious again. "It's… shit, I didn't want to tell you like this, I-"
"Then don't."
Steve's brow crinkles. "But-"
Eddie talks right over him. "You wait until this is over and you tell me when you think the time is right. I'll be there and I'll be waiting. Just like you. We're both gonna be there, okay?"
Steve huffs an exasperated laugh and scrubs a hand down his face, pinches the bridge of his nose. Then he yawns.
"Promise?" His eyes are very bright.
Eddie nods, smiles so wide that his mouth hurts with it.
"Of course. Now go back to sleep, dumbass."
Steve doesn’t protest as he pushes the headphones back over his ears and presses play, just settles back under Eddie's jacket and lets his eyes slip shut. Eddie listens to the opening chords of the song for what must be the thousandth time and wonders if he should take Steve's hand and promise that they'll make it.
Instead, he tucks the second flower into Steve’s hair and prays that it'll be okay.
All of my holiday drabbles
Part 2
#steddie#steve harrington x eddie munson#steve x eddie#steddie brainrot#steddie fanfic#fanfiction writer#fanfiction#fanfic#my writing#steddie holiday drabbles#steddieholidaydrabbles#hype's holiday drabbles
299 notes
·
View notes
Text
Don’t write it it stinks of toxic love
synopsis: Nate never found someone to love, Rafe was never loved and Y/N was never taken serious Maybe their entry into college will change their lives.
Frat Rafe x Reader x Frat Nate.
[English is not my native language❗️❗️]
TW: toxic, smut, sex, penetration, fingering, non-con, manipulation , insult, fight, humiliation, misogynistic attitude.
[PART1]
______________________________________________
______________________________________________
NATE
The summer vacation had not been easy for Nathaniel Jacobs. Between the divorce of his parents, Cassie who was just stalking his and his going to college, nothing was right.
Two weeks before homecoming, he decided to go to Chris Mckay’s, he was happy that Mckay was still talking to him about what happened between him and Cassie.
They were in Mckay’s room playing a fighting game. They were focused in their game when Nate was talking. "Dude?". Mckay turned his head to look at him. "Yeah?" he said.
"How’s college, I mean is there a lot of hot chicks?" Mckay and Nate laugh, Nate laugh to hide his anxiety.
Nate wanted to leave, college was one of the best ways. What Nate was afraid of was not being number one. He was afraid that he would not be THE best football player. That he is not indispensable to his team.
"Nah, man, college is where you can fuck whoever you want, it’s not like high school, people don’t give a shit about who’s fucking who, as long as it’s not cheating." Mckay said.
"How do you get respect?" Nate asks. Mckay seems to think long." I had sex with the cheerleading captain and the opposing college captain. Nate opens his eyes wide. "Two cheerleaders but not the same team or the same college?"
"You’re gaining huge popularity and a huge repsect. You’re teammates will trust you after that." Mckay laughed." So if I understand correctly, a good fuck with a cheerleader captain is the deal?" asks Nate. "Got it all figured out, man. But one advice, close the door of your room when you’re inside."
Mckay’s expression changes, it becomes empty and hard. Filled with hate and sadness. Nate nods, and as he was about to speak the door opens. Drawing the attention of Nate and the latter.
"Chris, your aunt is here, comes to help her carry her boxes." said his mother. "Is she already there?" asked Chris sighing." Yes, she’s already here, with her daughter, so be nice and come now." Demands her mother.
Chris gets up and Nate follows him, they go outside where, his head car is parked. Chris hugs his aunt and takes boxes, Nate only says hello and helps her carry her boxes.
Nate poses where he needs to, he goes back out when he crosses a small head out of the bathroom.
Nate looks at the girl and he feels something, he doesn’t move me and she doesn’t either. He looks at the girl.
She is small, her hair is black braided, long eyelashes that put her brown hazelnut eyes in values , black skin but which shone thanks to the passage of the sunset in the long corridor. Nate begins to detail her body, she has beautiful boobs, a slim waist and beautiful hips that enhance her legs.
She’s wearing a Brazil jersey with black shorts, a cyclist? He doesn’t know, but anyway, this girl makes him feel what no other girl has ever made him feel not even Maddy.
"Y/N" says Chris enthusiastically. Y/N looks at Nate looking away at Chris. "Did you miss me?" she asks trotting towards him.
Chris laughs and hugs her. Nate remains in his thoughts for a short time.
______________________________________________
Nate learned a lot about Y/N. She’s her age, she likes to read, write and fine art, she doesn’t have a boyfriend and something that makes Nate want to have her, in two weeks, they’ll share the same campus.
They go to the same college, she looks so pure and kind, Nate intends to make sure that she lives only by him.
Nate falls in love every time she talks to him and that’s a big problem for our football star.
Especially when Y/N won’t just attract his attention.
______________________________________
[PART 2]
.
.
.
#rafe cameron#rafe obx#rafe outer banks#rafe x reader#rafe cameron x reader#dark rafe cameron#outer banks rafe#drew starkey x reader#dark!rafe#rafe imagine#football player!rafe#frat boy#frat!rafe#rafe smut#rafe cameron x you#rafe fanfiction#outer banks smut#outer banks fanfiction#outer banks x reader#obx fic#nate jacob’s smut#nate jacobs#toxic relationship#toxic!nate#euphoria x reader#euphoria#jacob elordi x reader#Spotify
139 notes
·
View notes
Text
WAITER SAT AT THE TABLE
-art by ringorenji88 on twitter.
OKKK YAKUZA PILLARS WE LOVE..
Kny boys Drabble NOT FINISHED..
---------------------------------------------
"oh shit for real? The pillars are here!? " the pianist asked in shock
"yeah u can see them in the vip seating on the other side of the casino"
"oh for fuck sakes, another fight is probably gonna happen some time soon. "
"you bet"
After hearing the two colleagues gossip Y/n placed her old hairbrush back into her bag.
“What the fuck are pillars?” Y/n thought.
The strip club was definitely something,a popular angle wing in the outskirts of the city of japan
But how could she describe this club?
Utter shit
Female hookers only had a little bit to get ready for their customers, and the bartenders had even less time to change into their uniforms and set the stools down before the casino gets ready
Too add on, the club didn't have a wonderful dressing room for performers to get "all dolled up," as many owners put it, so she dressed up in the ladies employees restroom as long with her female colleagues.
____________________________________________
"HELP Y/N I CANT ZIP MY DRESS UP AND I HAVE TO GO OUT ANY MINUTE!"
"ume calm down jesus fucking crist, Turn around ill do the zip."
Y/N zipped up the performers outfit, which was way more flashier then her skutty uniform.
"daki ur late ur supposed to be on stage letter A right now!"
Another performer exclaimed, rushing daki out of the females room.
"OKAY OKAY I'M COMING ALRIGHT" daki turned around to y/n who was also supposed to be out on her shift right now.
"LET'S MEET UP LATER MM K?"
Y/N sighed lightly while giving a suttle smile
"sure" y/n replied on her way to follow daki to the exit.
Y/n exited the bathroom, leaving her aftershow clothes in on the bathroom sink as long as her bag, and began shifting her fingerless gloves.
“I should’ve pretended to sick today smh” she thought.
"hey y/n! What's up w being late all the time. We could've had a smoke break together."
"i would of been here five minutes ago but I was helping your sister "
Y/ns workmate, also known to be gyutaro rolled his eyes as he gave y/n her note pad and biro pen.
"whatever dude, but come tell me when your on your next break so we can go smoke mm k?"gyutaro said
Y/N waved him goodbye as she slowly walked away.
"we could've talked longer if u came on the right fucking time."
"mm k!" y/n mimicked, taking notes how the siblings act like each other.
Y/N walked out of the bar counter and pushed a stool aside her to continue on to taking orders.
Yet while she looked around she noticed all her work mates avoided the back left,also known as the more "mightier side". Was there someone big there? But if it was someone famous there wouldn't everyone be offering to take their order?
It didn't make sense.
Y/N walked towards to back without a ponder. There wasn't anyone to take the people's orders since the waiters scurried to take their orders, as if they were avoiding a certain table.
'whatever this is; i need that bag, so I guess I'm just going to have to deal with whatever hits me.' y/n thought.
High heels clanked on the ground while y/n search for a table to assist, only for-
"y/n! Y/n!"
She turned around.
"sasumaru? What's up with you?"
Sasumaru was one of y/ns closet friends at the casino, besides the siblings. She wanted to be a volley ball player but failed at everything ever since she was put under house arrest.
"I'm begging you to do that vip table! All of us are to scared to do it!"
"Well why, its not like they are gonna try to kill u for getting their order wrong."
Sasumaru laughed sarcastically
"they tried to kill yahaba because he asked if they wanted ice in their drink!" sasumaru exclaimed, rocking y/n back and fourth by the collar.
"whatever, I'll do it" y/n dead panned
"Are u so sure after hearing what I just told u!" sasumaru panicked even more
"yes it's fine I'll just do what they say, no questions, no ice."
Sasumaru stopped and starred at y/n
"Now will you let me go?" y/n asked.
"AAAAA UR SO COOL Y/N!!! SO BRAVE TOO, JUST LIKE ME"
Y/N pulled sasumaru off her and continued to walk to the vip room
'if u were brave like me, u would be walking to the vip lounge' y/n giggled to her self.
"hey babe what's ur number?"
"look at the fat in her back!"
"I would smack that"
Y/N grumbled to her self about these comments, much to her dismay shes pretty much used to the cat calling here. The manager doesn't really give a shit about the treatment his female employees get here.
'tch, whatever. Fucking saddos'
Y/N walked to the vip table, no in closer inspection she saw a group of men.
Rich men.
Rich and powerful men.
How could y/n tell they were powerful? Doesn't the silent tables of men around them tell you enough? What about the employees refusing to serve any where over here? Is that enough?.
"what could I get for you guys" y/n asked carefully, remembering what happend to yahaba.
"finally someone flashy to help us order!" one of the men said. His hair silver white with magenta eyes that popped. Jewellery coated his body with a expensive tuxedo.
"can I please just have some water? I hope that's okay." the other man said, he was way more bigger then the others and had a red beaded necklace on, his eyes were-wait, is he blind?
"CAN I PLEASE HAVE SOME HOT WINGS" a booming voice asked, his eyes were orange and red, matching with his hair.
"shut the fuck up Kyojuro. I want a sex on the beach cocktail" another white haired male asked, his appearance way more scary then the others with his scars that show from his face to where the tuxedo is undone to show more scars.
"I want the same as sanemi!" the male from the start exclaimed again.
Y/N noted all of these
"anything else?"
"how about you darling?" the flashy man asked. y/n internally screamed inside.
"can uzui shut his mouth for ten seconds" the man known as uzui smacked the scar face beside him while the others laughed.
Y/N walked away when they finished their order.
Okay! Maybe they are a little bit imtimidating.
Yeah, especially when she realised she saw them on the news for murder half way through their order.
But it's fine. It won't bother her THAT badly. Would it?.
"what's up with you? You are all shaken up."
"I just realised I was taking the fucking pillars orders"
"Are you fucking stupid? Everyone knew that's why they stayed closer to the entrance."
Y/N clicked her tounge, she knew that she was stupid but she Just wanted some more money! Cut her some slack!
"I did hear the pianist talk about it outside of getting changed. I didn't really deep much into it though."
Gyutaro placed the drinks on a round black tray along with some hot wings.
"I mean it's your problem now, and to be honest if they didn't like you, you would have been dead by now."
Y/N awkwardly smiled, knowing shes fucked.
"yeah yeah whatever."
She grabbed the tray and started to walk back towards the mobsters
I mean are they really mobsters? even though how imtimidating they were, they somewhat respected you.
They respected you way more then other people you are close with.
"look at her body."
"she's hot."
"yo guys should I ask for her number?"
At this point y/n couldn't even hear the things that were said about her. She was too focused about the men on the Vip table. Is she scared? Incredibly. Is she going to act like nothings bothered her about them? Yes. She is.
The platform heels platters the floor, alarming the men on the table.
"I see your back so soon"
The bling guy said, clasping his hands together.
"took her time didn't she." the scarface complained, tapping his finger on the table.
"don't be so rude sanemi."
" and how the fuck am I being rude?!?"
Y/N placed their drinks down, ignoring how her body's shaking from the pillars infront of her.
"so lady! How long have you been working here?"
Y/N paused at what she was doing and looked up to the fire head who just asked her a question.
"just under a year."
Kyojuro nodded and smiled
"that's nice, you look so young though how old are you?"
Sanemi who sat on the edge of the table hanged his leg out
"I bet not a day over 19"
Y/N chuckled lowly, letting her guard down
"I'm 23"
Uzui spat his drink out
"HUH"
Gyomei smiled towards y/n, he felt comfortable around her arua.
He couldnt explain it, she just seems nice to hang around with.
Y/N chuckled again
"do I really look that young? -"
"NO WAY UR MY AGE"
Uzui shouted light heartily, maybe he could have a 4th wife.
"how about she sits down with us? Since u guys are obsessing over her like bitchy dogs."
Sanemi complained, true they were acting like dogs, but he would be lying if he didn't want to talk to y/n too.
"that's not a bad idea!" Rengoku exclaimed while tengen patterned on the the sofa like chair in between him and Kyojuro.
"how about you sit here precious?"
Y/Ns face paled, does she have a choice? I mean she doesn't mind sitting between them she's just worried her boss would think she's slacking off again.
"don't force her, remember she has a job to do." gyomei said to the two, for sanemi to agree
"I'll pay her to sit with me, her job is to get money from customers right? Come sit down with us darling."
Uzui said, while rengoku took a few papers out of his wallet.
"It's fine if you don't want to! We will still pay for our drinks." Rengoku re assured y/n.
Y/N smiled softly, forgetting her worries about any of them.
"cmon girl they will be asking all night if u don't say anything." sanemi grumbled, embarrassed of the two weirdos on the table with him.
"sure.but not for to long"
"BETTER THEN NOTHING!" Rengoku shouted, for uzui to nudge sanemi to move for y/n to get in.
Sanemi stood up and put his hand on her shoulder.
"come on uzui we don't have all day."
"Sorry my fatass Is making it harder to get out, I know you can't relate sanemi" uzui chuckled to make sanemi embarrassed. Y/n chuckled lowly, just to embarrass him more.
"whatever, in you get girl"
Y/N nudged over to Kyojuro, only to smile at each other while ignoring gyomei telling uzui to not body shame anyone.
"It's not my fault he fails at squats" uzui said nudging over to sit next to y/n
Which made her sandwiched between two physco extroverts who wears expensive tuxedos
Nothing else could get worse then it already is.
"so pretty face, what's your name?" sanemi asked, fed up of the name calling.
"I bet her name is really cool!"
"I bet its something snazzy"
Gyomei took a sip of his water and looked over to y/n
"whatever her name is, it would be beautiful."
Y/N was going to answer sanemis question once she had some of uzuis drink, that he offered her.
"my name is -"
"Y/N."
#demon slayer#yandere kimetsu no yaiba#anime#kny x reader#kny yakuza au#thank you dear anon#aesthetic#art#gaming#writing#rengoku x reader#sanemi x reader#uzui x reader#gyomei x y/n#kny x y/n#hashiras#upper moons#gyutaro and daki
881 notes
·
View notes
Text
Art Was Here
Art the Clown x Reader
Word Count: 3.6K
Summary: You and your two best friends, Tara and Dawn, are creeped out by a weird clown at the pizzeria. What you don’t realize is that you’ve been followed, and the clown has other plans for you.
Warnings: 18+,Smut, Porn with Plot, Violence, Murder, Reader has female anatomy but no pronouns mentioned
“I think we should get our food to go.”
Tara’s slow and unsteady words pulled your eyes up from Instagram to her scrunched face. She looked worried, but wasn’t looking at you or Dawn. You followed her gaze across the Pizzeria to the monochromatic clown that sat at the booth across from you. His hands were crossed politely, starkly contradicting the scowl he wore on his painted face.
“Is that the guy from earlier?” You asked softly, touching Tara’s arm to subtly get her attention.
She nodded, looking at you like a kicked puppy. She was scared, and you had to admit, this guy didn’t exactly make you feel comfortable, especially when you realize he followed you and your friends here.
Dawn turned her head, blonde hair hitting Tara in the face and sticking to her purple lipstick. “Him?” She pointed a thumb at him, rolling her eyes at you both before standing.
“Excuse me?” Dawn stood in front of the clown, arms crossed and phone in hand. “Uh…excuse me? Can I get a picture with you?”
You shifted uncomfortably. “Dawn, come on.”
Dawn twisted to you, “Shut up,” she scoffed. “Hello?” She lifted a manicured hand to the clown's face and snapped at him. You felt your soul leave your body, especially when he did absolutely nothing to react to Dawn’s antics, instead he stared directly at you, eyes holding yours, face still locked in an ugly glower.
“Okay, I’ll take that as a yes.” Dawn moved closer to him, and you watched in horror as she took a seat in his lap. Even as she forced him to pose for her perverted photoshoot, he did not take his eyes off yours.
After Dawn was satisfied with herself, she stood. “Thanks,” she smiled at him and made her way back to the table.
You and Tara stared in shock at Dawn, completely appalled with what she had just done.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Tara hissed, turning back to check on the clown.
Dawn rolled her eyes. “What, did you think he was going to hack me up into little pieces or something?”
You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, drunkenly trying to cope with being scared of and now a little sorry for the clown. He might be creepy, but it was wrong of Dawn to do that.
You all got your pizza, and despite keeping a close eye on him, you barely noticed as he snuck off to the bathroom. Minutes later, he was being yelled at and kicked out by the owner, who had just comforted you and your friends. The clown was ushered out of the Pizzeria, and had to hurriedly grab his garbage bag full of who-knows-what. The door was slammed in his face, and as he began to walk away, he locked eyes with you again, lifting his hand to wave at you. Your stomach twisted, but at least he was gone.
You and your friends, now full of pizza and a little less drunk, made your way back to the car. Dawn still stumbled a bit, but pointed her phone screen towards your face.
“Look, we have 18 likes already.” It was the photo of her kissing the creepy clown on the cheek. The picture alone gave you the heebeegeebees. Whoever that dude was, he was creepy.
“Dawn, that was really rude. He was probably uncomfortable.”
“If he was uncomfortable, he could’ve…what happened to the tires?”
You stared in horror as you discovered the holes in all four of Dawn’s tires. A sinking feeling in your stomach weighed you down when you turned to talk to Tara, who was already on the phone with her sister.
You leaned against the car, arms wrapping around yourself in an attempt to stave off the cold October chill. At this moment, you regret dressing the way you did, legs and arms almost completely exposed.
“Okay, Victoria is going to come get us…”
You sighed in relief. Now all you had to do was wait. All three of you leaned against the car in silence, arms wrapped around yourselves.
Tara turned to you and Dawn. “I really have to pee.”
“So go.” Dawn responded nonchalantly.
“Go? I’m not gonna pop a squat in the street like you do.”
Dawn turned to her, hands dropping to her sides. “Well tough shit because it’s gonna be a while until your sister gets here.”
“Fuck…” Tara grumbled, looking around. “Maybe that guy has a bathroom I can use.” She pointed to what looked like a janitor unlocking an abandoned building.
You shivered, watching as Tara walked towards the building. “I…I think I’ll stay here with Dawn…” you said quietly. The idea of going into an abandoned building with a man was not something that appealed to you. And, you figured, if something did happen to Tara, it’s better to have you safe out here to help.
She nodded and began to talk to the man, but she was too far away for you to hear now.
“C’mon, I’m freezing my tits off.” Dawn growled, opening the driver's side door. You walked around to the passengers side, sitting down in the seat. The inside of the car wasn’t too much warmer, but as Dawn turned the key, the heater started up. You sighed in relief and hunched over yourself. You were still on edge, craning your neck to look outside every once in a while. When three separate checks of the sidewalk outside resulted in absolutely nothing, you finally felt comfortable enough to put your head down against your arms and close your eyes.
You heard Dawn flip through radio stations, before stopping on one.
“This is a WNEW breaking news alert. We have a major development in Miles County this evening, where authorities are investigating a double homicide. Two employees at the Deer Hill's Pizzeria were found brutally murdered just moments ago. No suspects are in custody yet but police are on the lookout for a tall, thin man wearing a black and white clown costume and carrying a large garbage bag.”
You sat up quickly, eyes wide and heart pounding. You and Dawn made eye contact for a moment.
“No way…” she said softly.
You reached down to turn up the radio.
“An Eyewitness spotted the suspect after hearing multiple screams. No further details at this moment. Stay tuned, and we'll continue to bring you more breaking updates as they become available.”
The back door opened, but you could barely think, let alone speak.
“Tara, you won’t believe what we just heard on the radio…” you saw from your peripheral, Dawn turning towards Tara in the back, and then suddenly, she was hunched over the steering wheel, blood staining her blonde hair.
You whipped your body around to meet the eyes of the clown you had seen in the Pizzeria. A scream tore its way out of your throat and your entire body shook as you yanked on the door handle. The door was locked, it wouldn’t budge.
You felt hands wrap around your neck, making your hands abandon the door handle. You clawed at the clown's hands as he yanked you out of your seat. Choked cries escaped you but you used all of your power to kick as hard as you could against the dash, forcing your body against the clown’s chest. You heard a small “oof” sound as he exhaled air, and his grip loosened ever so slightly. You struggled against him to reach for the handle, but instead, he grabbed your arms and held them in against your chest.
Your throat was raw from screaming, you were out of breath, and with the heater blasting, sweat dripped down your brow. He had you restrained, and you finally sat still against his chest, the only sound you could hear was your fast breath and heart beating in your ears. You close your eyes tight, expecting him to stab you, break your neck, do anything to kill you. But… it never came.
Instead, he sat still, hand firm against your throat but not squeezing. You felt his long hooked nose against the crook of your neck and heard him inhale deeply. Your chest heaved with the heavy breaths you took and the feeling of him being so close to you made you nervous. You looked down to finally see how you were sitting in his lap.
Your short costume was hiked up around your upper thighs, which were spread from the struggle, one foot pushed against the center console and one firmly planted on the ground. His legs were beneath yours, long and pushing against the seats in front of you. The silky material of his jumpsuit felt nice against your skin and you began to feel a different kind of tension with the clown.
It was hard to keep reminding yourself that he had just killed two people, and attacked one of your best friends, who lay unconscious just a foot away from you. His hands let up on your throat and you relaxed a little bit, until you felt them again at your waist. His touch was rough and unpracticed, grabbing at your thin clothing and yanking at you feverishly.
You could feel your face turning red, the car was so hot and sweat glistened on your skin. You turned to look at him, his eyes were glazed and glued to your chest, mouth open slightly but still formed into a tiny but focused frown.
You had to decide now if you wanted to try to escape or stay and let him do what he wanted. Attempting to escape seemed like it could be dangerous, given the fact that he decided to spare you once already, but you might not be so lucky again. Instead you decided that appeasing the clown was the best way to survive, at least that’s what you told yourself in order to be less weirded out by your attraction towards him.
You decided to turn, which was difficult because of the cramped space you were working with. Your neck craned to avoid the ceiling and your hair fell in front of your eyes. You settled again on his lap and immediately felt his hands on you again, this time on the sides of your thighs. His fingers moved up and traced the edge of your skirt. Your breath hitched and you could feel the butterflies in your stomach as his touch.
The feeling of butterflies rose to your chest as you finally met his gaze, painted eyes staring into yours intensely. The way his eyes seemed so lifeless yet so expressive disturbed you, but you also felt like you couldn’t look away, eyes locked with his as you wrapped your arms slowly around his neck. The eyes you were watching watched your arms move as if he were nervous about you being able to wrap around him. Maybe he felt like you holding him would give you the upper hand somehow, even though he seemed inhumanly strong despite his scrawny frame.
Hands splayed out between his shoulder blades steadied you as you decided to lean into him further, bodies completely pressed together. It was now that you noticed the amount of blood he was soaked in, drops soaking into the white fabric of his clothes and beginning to dry and flake off his cheek. His hands moved further up, now completely under your skirt and toying with the edge of your lace underwear. You hadn’t gotten any action at the Halloween party like you’d hoped, so you guessed you’re glad someone got to see them?
He suddenly looked extremely displeased, and you thought you’d done something wrong. You backed up a little, but followed his eye line to your chest. His hands came up, and you just now noticed that they were covered in blood, and yanked your dress down, your bra joining it. You yelped in surprise at the suddenness of your exposure, tits now on full display for the bloodied clown.
This seemed to fix this issue and he now wore a huge smile flashing stained teeth. You leaned forward again, feeling the soft silk against your chest. You decided to be a little more brave, you leaned down and your lips connected with the side of his neck. He tensed up for a second, but you ran your tongue over the soft skin there before biting down gently with your front teeth. You forgot to account for the fact that he has paint on, which you could definitely taste, but it didn’t bug you enough to stop. His head fell back onto the headrest behind him but his hands never stopped moving. One trailed up your inner thigh and the other palmed your breast, fingers pinching at your already hard nipple.
You closed your eyes tight, focused on the sensation of what was happening as you felt his fingers move closer and closer to where you wanted them. They were bloody and grimy but at this moment you couldn’t care less. Your head was tucked in the crook of his neck and the smell of iron and musk filled your nose, as if he had been covered in the same blood and sweat for days, which you wouldn’t doubt.
His fingers wrapped around the side of your panties and he yanked them, ripping them off like they were made of tissue paper. Your hands wandered down his chest while you finally backed up enough to stare at him. Looking at him like this made you feel ashamed of how much you were enjoying his touch, the moments of you convincing yourself that having sex with the clown was only for survival were over. Despite the shameful feeling, you also didn’t want to stop, you figured that he wouldn’t tell anyone…right? And it’s not like Dawn was going to remember… You felt the zipper situated at the center of his back and slowly started to pull it down until the sides of his suit slid off of his shoulders.
His chest and stomach were exactly as you had expected, muscular but lean, extremely thin and trim. You shifted in order to get his suit down his thighs, and after you settled back in his lap, you felt his cock against your inner thigh, hidden by the tule of your skirt.
The material of your costume scratched your soft thighs as you lifted it with one hand, the other moving down to rub circles on your clit. You sighed, finally feeling some sort of the pleasure you so badly wanted. Your eyes slipped close as the feeling engulfed you completely, only brought out of your trance when you felt his length rub against your entrance. He stared intently at your exposed pussy in a way that assured you he doesn’t do this often.
With a trembling hand you reached down to guide him inside you. You moved slowly, thighs beginning to shake from easing yourself down onto him. With a whimper you sat fully onto him, your ass resting flush on his thighs, which he gripped hard enough to bruise. Blood stained your skin wherever he touched, and you stopped for a moment to wonder whose it was.
Your thoughts were interrupted by a jerky thrust from him. Clearly he wasn’t happy about the fact you hadn’t moved yet. Your walls stretched around him as you lifted yourself halfway off of him, and with a stinging pain you sat back down. All it took was a couple more thrusts for the stinging to turn into unexplainable pleasure. You couldn’t tell if it was the drinks or the danger, or maybe it’d just been far too long since you’d gotten laid, but he felt better than anyone had before.
You held into his shoulders as you feverishly began to move, bouncing against him while also moving your hips in a circular motion. His hands held the small of your back, helping you up and down with a tight grip. At first, his hips were glued to the car seat, letting you do all the work, but as you kept going, he started to meet you halfway, thrusting upwards into you and causing you to bump your head against the ceiling. You stared into his eyes with your own half-lidded ones, fingernails cutting into his bare shoulders. The urge to kiss him was strong, even though you were sure he hadn’t brushed his teeth in a while, so you trailed a hand from his shoulder, up his neck, and finally to his cheek, where you ran a thumb over his bottom lip.
He, as usual, didn’t react to this action, leaving you to guess whether or not he’d be okay with a kiss. You kept one hand on his cheek, the other reaching back and holding the one that was currently squeezing your thigh, and with a surge of confidence, you leaned forward, capturing his lips in a kiss. He didn’t shove you off or hit you over the head like you’d expected, but he didn’t exactly kiss you back. You tasted iron on his tongue and began to feel a heat pool in the bottom of your stomach. Surges of electricity ran through you with every thrust, you whined and whimpered at the feeling, and you knew you were close. The clown’s mouth formed an ‘O’ shape, and suddenly you wished that he’d make a noise. His face contorted into a look of pleasure, lips pulled back and eyebrows furrowed.
One hard thrust made you cum, it felt like lightning went through your entire body. You spasmed against him, thighs tightening against his legs, loud moans coming from your wide open mouth. He stayed still deep inside you, and as you slowly came down from your high you realized he came inside you. You were on birth control, but it hadn’t even occurred to you before that maybe a man covered in someone else’s blood wasn’t the most sanitary to be having unprotected sex with. You sat, panting and sweating on his lap, head leaning against his shoulder. You were a little worried now that he was done with you. That he’d had his fun and wanted to kill you.
You raised your head, he still looked dazed, but stared directly at you. His hands moved towards the inside of your thighs, pushing you off of him. This made your legs twitch but you quickly pushed your skirt back over yourself. He put his arms back through his suit, pointing both thumbs to his back with a goofy smile. He wanted you to zip his zipper. You moved towards him and reached back, arm over his head to grab the zipper at the center of his back. You slowly began to pull his back up and had it almost all the way there when a searing pain went from your rib cage to your chest. You let out a scream, hand flying to the place it hurt most, directly under your armpit of the arm you had raised. You felt wetness, and metal protruding from you. With panic you looked down at your torso and saw what looked like a scalpel stuck in your side. Blood soaked your costume and made its way down to the car seat, making the overwhelming heat of the car so much worse.
You grabbed the handle of the scalpel with your other hand and tried to yank it out, but tears cascaded down your face as you realized it hurt too bad to do it. You turned your head to the clown, who held out a finger and smiled at you. He grabbed the handle of the scalpel and began to count with his fingers, mocking you. 1…2…3. And when he held up three, he yanked the scalpel from you. The scream you let out was inhuman, shredding your vocal cords and hopefully alerting Tara.
You put your arms up in terror to defend yourself, but that didn’t stop him. He shoved your legs down, exposing your stomach completely, and with one swipe, he sliced you open. You felt the intense pain of the blade, then the warmth from the blood, and then you began to feel cold and tired. The coldness scared you, considering you felt like you were melting just seconds before. You were scared to look down and when you finally did, you saw your skin split inches apart, muscle and tissue exposed. You felt like throwing up, you felt numb and nauseous and sleepy and shaky. You stared up at the clown, who wore a terrible grin, as he began to lean forward, dipping his fingers into your gaping wound.
His hands were covered in fresh blood now, shiny and bright. He turned around, writing with your blood on the foggy car window. You watched as he wrote, letter by letter, taking breaks to get more blood from you,‘Art was here’, covering the whole window.
You could barely keep your eyes open when he decided he was done with his fun. He opened the car door, walking out merrily and after he got a breath of the cool October air, he leaned down, one hand on the roof of the car, and he waved at you before he slammed the car door shut, forcing you to look at the words he wrote in your blood.
You closed your eyes. You could hear him open the driver's side door, and heard a groan from Dawn as the car shook, but you couldn’t muster the energy to open your eyes long enough to see where he was taking her. You blinked once, then twice, body shaking again when the car door slammed shut. Your breath was shallow and your eyelids were heavy. You read those words over and over ‘Art was here…’ until you couldn’t anymore.
778 notes
·
View notes
Text
˚❀˚
the pogues take mario kart very seriously.
big john bought john b a wii when he was 10, and he and jj have been mastering the art of drifting and aiming shells since. spending at least part of the weekend stuck to the chateau’s small tv screen became mandatory. oftentimes, the crew would use a quick game to handle debates or disagreements.
“i’m tellin’ you. this plan is fool proof.” jj licks the inside of his lip, fixing his hat on his head for emphasis as he stares down a visibly unimpressed john b. “you don’t think goin’ in there—guns a-blazing—is gonna surprise ‘em?”
“i think they have plenty of guns to a-blaze at us, jj.” pope deadpans, pinching the bridge of his nose as he leans back on the porch bench. jj’s resolve doesn’t falter, he only shakes his head, looking between the other two boys.
“yeah—but that’s the thing—we’re faster, dude. i mean, you saw me at the beach, i was like—bow bow, bowbowbow..”
kiara bumps your arm, drawing you out of a daydream. you turn toward her, then follow her eyes to your blabbering boyfriend. “are you hearing this?”
you didn’t have to be listening to know his plan is absurd, but you shrug anyway. “i dunno, maybe he has a point.”
“sure..”
“y’know what, jj? i think we should settle this like men.” john b crosses his arms over his chest. “on the track.”
“guys—“ kiara starts, but jj cuts her off, pointing a confident finger at john b.
“you’re on.”
next thing you know, you’re sat on the couch inside, jj sitting beside you with a white knuckle grip on the wii controller steering wheel. he’s leaned forward, elbows on his knees in the most intense focus you’ve ever seen him in. they’re split screened, jj on the left and john b on the right, perfectly mirroring where they’re sitting on the couch. the ever so reliable john b chooses classic mario, and jj sticks to his routine choice, yoshi.
everyone’s eyes are glued to the tv screen, kiara leaning on the side of the couch, biting her nails anxiously, sarah sitting on the floor between john b’s legs, and pope sprawled across the leather armchair.
the boys are on their third lap, and it’s clear the competition is getting heated just looking at them. the first two laps were filled with shit talking and all around bad sportsmanship, but now they’re silent. neck and neck, they crash through the final round of item boxes, and the air stills as their respective power-ups shuffle.
“c’mon, c’mon.. big money..” jj mutters biting his lip. you’re enthralled, one hand resting supportively on his shoulder. with john b just a few paces in front of him, jj’s first power up loads as a red shell, and he immediately shoots it at john b. it hits him dead on, a cinematic slow-mo of mario’s go-kart sputtering to an explosive stop capturing the chaos of the room perfectly. jj springs to his feet, yoshi flying past john b’s defeated mario and through the finish line like a bullet.
“john b!” kiara shouts, hands flying to her forehead in utter shock as she watches jj cross the finish line in first. john b opens his arms in confusion, looking between everyone innocently. “what? he’s getting good! i mean—what d’you want me to do?”
“man, you threw that.” pope complains, hands wiping down his face as he grapples with the reality that is jj’s elaborate plan. john b can only brush them off, which is easy with jj shouting over all of them.
he’s already hooting and hollering. “yeah! yeaaah, that’s right, baby. don’t start sum you can’t finish.” he throws the controller down on the couch, coming back over to where you’re sitting and grabbing your hands, pulling you up to stand beside him. you can’t help but laugh, his elation infectious. he pulls you to his side like a trophy, pointing at john b in satisfaction. “s’why you don’t challenge papa j to a race, ‘les you wanna get owned.”
“i can count on one hand how many times you’ve won.”
“whatever, man, this time actually counts.” his hands roam down your side, gliding his fingers down the exposed skin below your crop top and he burrows his finger tips under the waistband of your shorts. “looks like today, papa’s in charge.”
“great.”
˚❀˚
#jj maybank drabble#jj maybank headcanon#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank#jj x reader#jj headcanon#jj#obx#jj drabble
108 notes
·
View notes
Text
Health and Hybrids (XVI)👽👻💚
[I can't remember the original prompt posters for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]
PART ONE is here PART TWOis here PART THREE is here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here PART SIX is here and PART SEVEN is here PART EIGHT is here PART NINE is here PART TEN is here PART ELEVEN is here PART TWELVE is here PART THIRTEEN is here PART FOURTEEN is here PART FIFTEEN is here and this is sixteen *SixTeen theme plays*
💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts
Where we last left off... Martian Manhunter finds out that,yeah, dude, when your brain is missing chunks, you can't write or access data without the hardware to store it. My dude remembers nothing.
Trigger warnings for this story: body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) | my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.
💚👻👽👻💚
Days pass. Nights pass.
(He thinks.)
He gets a new room. This one has a window. He can’t stare at it all the time, but when he does, he can feel himself growing stronger. Steadier. The change in his body is borderline tangible.
If only it was physical. He’s still too weak to lift anything but his arms, and not even all the way. Moving his head is tiring. Lifting his head is impossible.
But he tries.
A lot.
The doctors and the lady have to make upset noises with him when he does, but he wants to be able to see everything they’re doing to him. So far it’s a lot of tubes and needles, but what if they become scalpels and clamps?
…Danny tries to assure himself that they probably won’t be.
But they might. Things could change.
And that eats at him constantly.
Someone puts a big circle on the wall in his room. It’s large. It’s a little fuzzy at its distance on the far wall, but it’s got little arms on it, and little dots in equal degrees around the circumference. It takes him almost two napping periods to realize that it’s a clock.
Danny squints. He can...almost read analog. (Probably.) It sure doesn’t help that he has no idea when night is and when day is, though. He sleeps at one hour and wakes up at another, and the room will look entirely the same. Was it a few hours’ sleep, or a day’s? Was it longer? The world spins outside his window, big and blue, and he spins against it in a station on a lonely moon. There’s no way to tell.
Someone eventually notices that he’s bored, though, because he gets a television and a remote.
It’s a super thin television. At first, Danny spends time wondering why they put a screen with no system in his room, and then hour later the lady starts pressing buttons on the remote, and the screen lights up with a news program.
…The TV is too far away to see all that clearly. He can see some of it when he squints, but then all the colors turn lime green.
The banner on the bottom of the screen scrolls with headlines, and cool, it looks like they invented new letters while Danny was asleep. Fantastic. His head hurts from trying to squint to read, but it kind of looks like a kindergartener scribbled all over an otherwise serious news report.
Great. Now he’s getting a headache.
But the noise is…nice. It’s distracting. The news anchors chatter seriously as Danny gets yet another IV swapped out in his arm, and the heavily geared-up doctors have started telling Danny things he doesn’t like to listen to too much because if it is threats, great, he should ignore that; if it’s not threats, then, well, Danny’s bored of it all anyway.
“—Wel?”
Danny blinks. Well. That sounds like ‘Well’.
He shifts just enough to make eye contact. A doctor looks down at him from their place at his bedside. Their scrubs are kind of blue-green, with little flowers on the trim.
They have human eyes. The sight of soft, brown eyes probably ought to be reassuring, but they just make Danny more nervous.
“Eow eart wel?” They ask again, soft and slow. That middle bit sounds kind of like ‘art’. Ha. Old timey Shakespeare. ‘Art well,’ like ‘you art well—‘
Wait. Danny takes a deep breath. Blinks. His chest arcs up, just a little—just enough for the doctor to realize that Danny’s more than just looking, he’s paying attention. Are they asking him if he’s well?
Danny reflexively opens his mouth and flexes his throat, tries to answer—
Nope. Ow. The noise he makes sounds like the garbage disposal is backed up with angry blob ghosts. It hurts just to make. But the sound makes the doctor look at him; they see him.
“Inne cwic tima!” Danny hears, and then they’re jogging out of the room, and Danny is left alone. His throat hurts.
His head thumps back onto his pillow. The news program plays on. There’s a damaged city he’s never seen before on the news.
…And then the doctor comes back. Danny’s head is swimming, so he almost doesn’t notice their return, but they’re holding something, and that something has a sippy straw.
Danny is perfectly happy with a sippy straw.
The straw is put into his mouth. Danny goes sippy sippy.
…The water sloshes a little weirdly through his throat. Some of his tubes might not be where they ought to be, which is weird. Isn’t he supposed to be human right now? Or. Uh. Kind of human? Human equivalent? …Close enough…?
Danny drinks. When the pain in his throat goes to normal pain levels instead of new and angry pain levels, he lets go of the straw, and the doctor lets him.
Their fingers carefully brush Danny’s hair. Not very hard. A little too slowly. Just at the hairline. But it reminds Danny so much of sitting at home with Dad on the couch, home from school with a fever as Muppets tapes play in the background, that tears leak out of his busted eyes. The tears are probably just as green.
“Eow eart wel?” the doctor asks again. So gently. So careful.
“I’m tired,” Danny rasps.
The effort of speaking crashes into him in seconds. If things are happening around him, he doesn’t understand any of it. Nothing reaches him. He’s so tired.
He’s out before he knows it.
#Martian Manhunter: he's bored. Give the boy a television#Medical: :0 Sir yes sir!!#Medical when they hear Danny: HE SPEAKS!!! :D#Medical when they realize they can't understand him: OH NO!!! D: MM COME BACK PLEASE#health and hybrids#dp x dc#danny phantom#dpxdc#dcxdp#tw gore#tw medical#tw body horror#dcu crossover#Danny realizing he didn't know how to read analog even when he was well: shit. >:(
205 notes
·
View notes
Text
nonidol!lee hyunjae x fem!reader
your best friend hyunjae ain't no romeo, but you're still in love... so let's hope he doesn't find out you wrote a whole play about him!
▷ genre, warnings. bffs2l, fluff, angst, comedy/humor, swearing, college au, pining, hyunyn r kinda franchise movie buffs, shirtless hyunjae......, slow burn-ish lol, if ur a theater kid i am so sorry, stress and academic pressures, mentions of a bitter ex-friendship and ex-relationship, sabotaging and low-key terrorizing by an ex-friend, kissing, insecurity, lots of jargon i looked up and hope i'm using correctly, massive leaps in time and multiple chapters that span one day 💀, denial is a river in egypt so ig hyunjae's in egypt
▷ total wc. 30.9k (i actually overshot this one r we surprised 0_0)
this is the fourth installment of the love in unity series! this can be read as a standalone, but there will be references to other fics, and all prev and future yns will be referred to as __!yn !! i do recommend reading at least one of the prior storylines ;')
a/n: mmmmmmmmmm idk what to say but have fun bye!!! AND REBLOG FOR GOD'S SAKE REBLOG PLEASE—
EPISODE ONE (PILOT): ONE ON ONE
“HAVE you always wanted to be a playwright?”
The question caught you off guard as you glanced up from your tablet screen, the white blue-light contrasting sharply against the warm amber radiating from the small, battery-operated lamp seated on the plastic folding table. There were a couple of technical issues going on behind the curtain at the moment, so the transition to the next person auditioning would be delayed by a couple minutes. In retrospect, it was nothing, but when you were already a couple weeks late behind schedule, a couple of minutes was everything.
A young and bright second-year student sat to your right in the middle rows of the university performing arts center nosebleeds. She was peppy and eager and passionate—all the things that you sometimes saw yourself as when you were her age. Her name was Bae Sumin, and she wasn’t here to audition, nor was she here for you. She was actually here to interview a few of the dancers for the winter showcase in representation of the university’s premier newspaper called The Daily. She had asked if she could sit in for a few of the auditions and observe, maybe ask a few questions; who were you to refuse an eagle-eyed undergrad who reminded you so much of yourself?
“Oh, well,” you began, eyes flitting to the velvet curtain where you saw a man in a dark baseball cap—Lee Jihoon—give you a swift thumbs up, “kind of. Playwriting was my first love, but it eventually turned into screenwriting over time.”
“So why choose playwriting for your capstone instead of screenwriting?” Sumin followed up, as you and her attention turned to the spotlit stage where your next auditioner walked out onto.
You knew the answer to that; you really did. But the audition was beginning, and though he was introducing himself to you, you couldn’t quite get your head in the game. Why did you choose to write a play over directing a film? You quickly murmured an answer to the second-year beside you as the student onstage had gotten so nervous he dropped his copy of the script on the floor. “I guess, when it counts, you always go back to your first love.”
— ✶
It was times like these where you really valued a good, strong cup of coffee.
“—I’m gonna stop you right there.” The poor kid—you really did feel bad for cutting people off sometimes, but you swore it was wholly necessary—froze like a deer in headlights. You stood up from your chair and began making your way down the aisle and into one of the rows that were closer to the stage. “Michael, is it?”
Michael, the student on stage who had been auditioning to play the role of a Napa Valley wine salesman, bobbed his head in affirmation.
You dipped your head. “Okay, Michael. Let me ask you: what is your motivation for this scene as a wine salesman? Because, if I’m being honest, dude, I’ve counted like… four different ways you’re playing this character.” In this singular scene alone. Your head was spinning from stress, and his mannerisms felt right for the role, but his acting itself just wasn’t hitting the mark. (If that even made sense, but your initial thought when he first walked onto stage gave you the aura of a business major.)
“Um,” he stammered, scratching the back of his head, “my motivation is to… sell wine?”
“Sell wine, and? What else?” Please pick up on the lines. Please tell me you read the other lines of this character.
He rifled through his packet of stapled script papers, clammy fingers flipping through and his eyes racing over lines. He probably printed out multiple sheets to audition for multiple parts in case this one fell through. “Oh! I, uhm, I’m supposed to eventually lock Alex and Kai in the wine cellar.”
“Because…” You prompted.
“Because… my boss is the… second cousin of the bride’s uncle?” He quickly added on, and you could see the cogs in his brain turning like rent was due (your rent—your rent was due—oh shit), “Wait! Wait! And Uncle Lee overheard the ex-boyfriend plotting to get Alex alone, so he asked me to hide Alex, and I do it because I want to get promoted.”
You punched the admittedly sky-high ceiling of the performance art hall. “Bingo. Now give me desperate, ass-kissing wine salesman, Michael.”
Michael did indeed give you a desperate, ass-kissing wine salesman. He did so, very well, in fact, that you declared that you were done for the day. Because you definitely were. If you saw any more people and heard the same lines of script over and over for any longer, you were going to commit murder. At least, not without filling your stomach first. When Michael was done and scurrying off stage, you caught one of the sophomores working with Jihoon—you thought her name was SW!Yn—and asked if she could have the house lights turned on.
You trudged back up to your original seat up in the nosebleeds and found that Sumin had disappeared off somewhere. However, she left a baby pink-colored sticky note on the table for you to read: I realized that I have an actual job to do, but watching you work was so cool. Thank you for letting me sit in! x, Sumin. She’d scrawled her phone number below the message line in case you were up for a proper session to let her pick your brain, and you felt yourself smile as you tucked the note into the back of your phone case for later.
“Yn-ie!”
You settled into your seat, an eyebrow cocked in blatant amusement as you watched your best friend, Lee Hyunjae, leap down from the stage and bound up the aisle to where you were. “Where’ve you been for the past two hours?” You mused as you began packing your things away into your backpack at your feet. Hyunjae had come in with you early this morning at seven, and for the three out of five hours you’d been conducting callbacks and auditions, he had been seated beside you to keep you (relatively) sane and to give you his opinion.
He, of course, had not been allowed to sit in for Kim Younghoon’s audition, because that was favoritism. Hyunjae tried to convince you by saying he would be even more judgmental of Younghoon, but you had effectively booted him out of the auditorium. After that, he disappeared to god knew where, and Sumin replaced him.
“I’ve been around,” he said to you casually. Instead of coming into the aisle were you were, he went up one more row. “I’ll tell you about it at lunch. Hungry?”
You patted your stomach, leaning back in your chair and stretching your limbs over your head like a cat. “Yes, sir. I can go for a buffet and a half right about now.”
“Oh, a buffet and a half?” He chuckled. He came up behind you and wrapped his arms over your upper half and rested his chin on top of your head. Your heart skipped about a dozen beats then; his embrace was always very warm. “So that must mean you're resuming this train in the afternoon, too.”
“Glad to know you pay attention.”
“Hey!” He squawked indignantly, no doubt jutting his bottom lip out in a Younghoon-esque pout. “I do pay attention to you.”
You made a face that he couldn’t see, but he could feel you pat his hands. “Sure, buddy, sure.”
Cleaning up didn’t take too long, as you reassured (more so reminded) Jihoon that you would be back at around 3 o’clock sharp. If he or Chan weren’t in to turn on lights and the like, you were certain you could hold your own. You and Hyunjae agreed on heading over to one of the closer restaurants on the Ave, only a few minutes’ walk from the performing arts hall. It was a cozy sort of cafe that served really good wonton noodle soup for both winter and summer days (Hyunjae always teased you for drinking hot soup on hot days, but it was something you had done since you were a kid).
Once the two of you had settled in a booth tucked away into the corner of the establishment, you were both swift to relay your orders to the waiter. Saying you were starving would be an understatement.
“You know, there are just some people who I can’t understand how they’ve made it so far in the program,” Hyunjae said to you as you squeezed a wedge of lemon juice into his glass of water. “Thank you,” he beamed boyishly, accepting the lemony beverage to sip. “—I mean, I’m sure they got in somehow, and like—I have no right to judge, but at this point, shouldn’t you understand the basic principles of design?”
You gave a meager bob of your head, taking your own glass to repeat your actions with a new lemon wedge. “They should if they’re all graduating in one quarter, too.”
“They’re all doing capstones,” he confirmed.
You offered him an amused smile. “Well at least you know that you’re doing okay, then.”
Hyunjae sighed, leaning back against his booth seat. His gaze flickered out the window for a second, then his lip curled upward as he returned his attention to you. “I guess so. Oh!”
He straightened and leaned forward again, bracing his forearms onto the table so he inclined himself toward you. “I was gonna tell you all about my backstage adventure!”
You chuckled. “Do tell, Jae.”
“Well, we begin our adventure with collecting dance kids like Pokemon—”
You sputtered around your straw, nearly snorting water from your nose and you swiftly slapped a hand over your mouth. Hyunjae’s eyes lit up as he laughed, but he was reaching over to hand you a napkin from the dispenser on the table. “I did not expect you to say that,” you managed to croak through your miserable laughter.
Hyunjae wagged his eyebrows at you. “What can I say? I am hilarious.”
“One out of a dozen times.”
“One out of one.”
“One out of ten.”
Hyunjae simply smiled. He could do this all day. “One out of one.”
But so could you. “One out of ten.”
He leaned closer. “One out of one.”
Not one to be beaten out by your best friend, you inched closer with a slightly narrowed gaze. “One. Out. Of. Ten—”
“Order of wonton noodle soup and an order of dan dan mian?” Both you and Hyunjae shot apart, heat crawling up to your cheeks, and you wondered if it was obvious to the bored-looking waiter setting your food down on the table. You passed a glance across the table at Hyunjae, but as always, he seemed practically unfazed. In fact, he was grinning like a madman.
You sighed, rolling your eyes. When the waiter disappeared and left you and Hyunjae to your own, strange devices, Hyunjae took a pair of plastic chopsticks from the collection on the table, wiping the pair down, then handing them to you. You thanked him as you accepted the utensils from him and wiped down a soup spoon for yourself.
As the two of you began digging into your separate dishes—with Hyunjae dipping a spoon into your soup and with you reaching over to pluck a couple pieces of minced pork from his bowl—it seemed that a silent truce about the matter prior had come to settle.
Hyunjae suddenly cleared his throat, gesturing with the hand that wasn’t using his chopsticks. “So as I was saying earlier—I found Juyeonie somewhere—I can’t remember. And then we found Sunwoo. The poor kid was just wandering around like a lost sheep; he was looking for Changmin, so we all went searching for him. And then Younghoon caught up with us—how’d his callback go, by the way?”
You swallowed the bite you had in your mouth before answering. “He did great, as usual. But you’re not allowed to know more than that.”
He sent you a playfully unsatisfied deadpan. “Hmph.”
“Hmph, back at ya,” you teased. You arranged a perfect spoonful of noodles, soup and wonton, carefully blowing on the surface. “So where did you guys end up finding Changmin?”
"In a closet."
You lurched, furiously holding back your snort as you closed your mouth around your bite. Bad. Idea.
Hyunjae didn't bother hiding his giggles as he watched you struggle to chew and swallow your bite of food. "You okay over there?"
With a glare that needed no extended interpretation, you wrestled the food down your throat. "I hate you."
"Hehe, whatever you say," he sang. "He was technically in a dressing room, but same thing. He was miserable, dude. Looked so perturbed."
You scoffed. "Perturbed? What is this? The Fast and the Furious?"
"Hey! Leave my man Vin Diesel alone!"
You cocked a brow at him as you slurped noodles into your mouth. "No." And then you added, "There is literally no reason for there to be so many Fast and Furious movies."
He huffed at you. "You know, that's exactly what people say about all franchises. What would you say if somebody came after Star Wars or Marvel like that, hm?"
"I'd murder them, and you'd help me hide the bodies."
A beat passed. "Touché."
Your lip curled in mild satisfaction. "Okay, so why's the squirrel feeling so down in the dumps? Something about that ex of his?"
Hyunjae motioned vaguely with his free hand. "Ex dance partner. Apparently, it was this whole thing that happened in high school, but I didn't get all the details."
"Ah," you replied. "I'm sure a good cup of coffee can get him to perk up just fine."
"Agreed." Hyunjae's eyes went skyward as a thought occurred to him. You couldn't help but admire the definition in his jawline as he did so. "There was something weird that happened."
"Oh?"
He quirked his mouth to the side and a crease formed in his forehead. "Yeah… we were talking about your play, right? And I was agreeing with Changmin that the whole thing was my favorite because you wrote it—"
Oh. You nodded your head indulgently, expression set in a way that seemed like you were incredibly invested in what he was saying. In reality though, your insides were flaring and you could feel the sweat dripping down the back of your neck.
"—and they just looked at each other? Like that thing you and I do when we know exactly what the other person is thinking, but I didn't get it." Hyunjae wrinkled his nose, reaching for his water. "Wondered what that was about."
You averted your eyes to your bowl of soup, trying to get ahold of yourself. "Yeah," you laughed, and you hoped it didn't sound as nervous as you thought it did, "I have no idea what that's about."
He simply shrugged then. "It's probably just something stupid," Hyunjae mused, then chuckled. "Just my friends for you. Silly geese."
You cleared your throat. "Yeah…silly geese, for sure."
And you were going to have a talk with those silly geese.
EPISODE TWO: LET'S ROCK 'N' ROLL
THIS was not your first rodeo, and it certainly would not be your last. It was approximately two weeks later, the Saturday at the caboose of Spring Break, that you found yourself standing in one of the first few rows of nosebleeds with your hair pulled up and out of your face and a packet copy of your script in hand. The entire acting cast sat in a sort of half circle mass on the stage with their own copies of the script. Today was Script Read-Through Day—as well as an intermittent fitting day.
Thanks to the efforts of your fellow workaholic, drama nerd classmate Kim Hongjoong, a handful of costumes for the entire play had been completed over the length of Spring Break. You'd asked your cast to find time over finals week and Spring Break to get a quick fitting done by Hongjoong and his team, and luckily, all of that had gone smoothly.
Now, it was your turn to lean in.
"Let's get down to business, everyone!" You said with a clap of your hands to capture everyone's attention. Your eyes roamed over the faces of the people who were selected and your heart thundered in excitement. This—this was just one part of the rush you lived for. You didn't bother to suppress your grin. "Thanks for being on time and making it back here; I know I cut your break short, but we're on a very tight schedule. Can we start with going around and introducing ourselves with name, year, major, and role?"
The circlet of introductions began at Cha Eunwoo, the young man in your year who you selected for the role of Kai, the main male lead. Younghoon was cast as Ryan, Kai's best friend, and the guy who was marrying Choi Miyeon's character Lily. Minatozaki Sana was playing Alex, opposite Eunwoo. You had been surprised Younghoon hadn't auditioned specifically for the role of Kai, but you were content that he'd gone for Ryan instead—a simple chemistry reading with the four main leads the week prior had confirmed to you that you'd made all the right choices.
The main cast also included Jung Eunbi, Jung Yerin, Choi San, and Dong Sicheng, another close friend of yours. All in all, you had been incredibly lucky with the ending line up of cast members, and the supporting cast, too.
The read-through carried along smoothly—well, mostly.
“—why, of course, dear Prim! It mainly trickles down to a few… specific details—Yn,” said San as he abruptly broke out of character. Everyone’s heads shot up from their scripts, including yours, as you watched San’s hand air-gesture to an invisible beard on his face. “I’m getting one of those weird old man beards, right?”
There was a murmur of chuckles throughout the group, and you gave him a small smile. “Of course, you are. I asked Hongjoong for the perverted-looking ones, specifically.”
He grinned, nodding. “Nice!” He thought about it, “Wait…”
Younghoon coughed up a laugh. “Shall we continue?”
You inclined your head in affirmation. “Thanks, Hoon. Yes, let’s get back to it. We were at Uncle Lee’s line about ‘specific details’.”
San had been selected to play the character of Uncle Lee, the role quite literally taken from the original Shakespeare play yours was based upon: Much Ado About Nothing. Your thesis play, the biggest project you would ever conduct in your undergraduate years, was called Jasmine. The storyline centered around ex-somethings, Alex and Kai, who were Maid of Honor and Best Man to their best friends Lily and Ryan, respectively. Because of Alex and Kai’s troublesome past, they acted like they hated each other, and Lily schemed to make them finally see eye to eye—as a wedding gift to herself, of course. She also convinced a party of characters to get in on the plan with her. It had all been very fun for you to write, and you imagined that the actors up on this stage now would make it all the better when they brought it to life.
With the read-through completed, you began splitting up groups to begin chemistry exploration readings. While you ushered Sicheng, Eunwoo, Sana, and a couple of the key supporting cast members onto stage, everyone else hopped down and scattered into the nosebleeds so they could get to know their fellow cast members more intimately.
You stood in the second row of the audience in the smack middle, one arm crossed over your stomach and the other propping your script up for yourself. Younghoon settled on one of the seats next to you, a small smile appearing onto his face as he folded his leg over the other. "Why hello Miss Director."
You hummed good-naturedly. "Why hello Mister Groom. Not up to saying hello to your fellow cast members yet?" Usually he was good about introducing himself to everyone; he was quite the charmer.
"I told the lovebirds I would pay attention to their chemistry reading for pointers," he grinned, eyes sparkling beneath the dim lights. "Kai's nervous about it."
"Ah," you voiced, glancing back to the stage where Eunwoo and Sana began interacting with Sicheng and the others on stage. "Awful nice of you, Ryan. Where's your darling bride?"
He gave you a show of wistful glance as he turned his eyes toward the ceiling and propped his cheek against his fist. "My beloved? Well, she is working her magic for the wedding. I told her—" he leaned forward onto his knees then, gesturing with his hands, "—I told her, darling! This is your special day. Anything you want is what I want. You should have seen the smile on her face—a daisy in bloom, Miss Ln.”
An amused expression fixed upon your face, you tipped your imaginary hat to him. “I think you should go find your bride, sir, before her plans get out of hand.”
“Her plans could never get out of hand,” he dismissed with the flick of his wrist.
“So you’re a Yes Man now?” You replied, your brain racking for the one part in the script you had written with this exact dialogue.
You saw the recognition flicker in Younghoon’s eyes. “That’s what love does to you, my friend. It’s not the same as those tally marks you always draw in that notebook,” he replied swiftly, gesturing to your script like it was the notebook that Kai was supposed to keep. “Say, you’ve never told me what those were for.”
Pleased, you arched an eyebrow. “That’s not the line, Hoon.”
You saw the moment he snapped out of character. He smiled, the kind of Younghoon trademark everyone could recognize and become spellbound by. “I don’t have the entire script memorized yet, Yn-ie.”
“I bet you have at least half of it memorized.”
He opened his mouth to remark something when someone hollered, “Oy” from the stage. Both you and Younghoon turned your attention to Eunwoo, who had captured both of your attention. He threw his arms open wide with a teasing grin. “Ryan, you’re supposed to be watching my back, man!”
Sana shot him a scowl. “Hey, if you get a second in this duel, then I get one, too. Lily!”
“As much fun as dueling you and winning would be, Alex, I’m not stuck in ye old days—”
“Your savior has arrived!” Everyone’s heads whirled in the direction of the doors at the back of the auditorium. There was a good handful of people who began filing in through the doors, with a very familiar blond at the helm of all the madness. Reminiscent of that one fiery Elmo meme, your best friend had his arms raised with an ear-splitting grin on his face.
Kevin Moon, one of the people amongst the masses, rolled his eyes as he passed Hyunjae to enter the auditorium. “They’re rehearsing, man.”
Choi Chanhee was swift to follow his friend. “Yeah, Hyunjae,” he teased with a grin.
You fixed your friend with a confused look. “Uhm… Hyunjae, what’s happening?”
Hyunjae jogged down to where you were, leaving his army of… people? behind. “You said you needed volunteers to help you prepare set pieces, right? Well, I told you I’d recruit some people and—” He made a wide, sweeping gesture toward the large group of people now simply crowded at the back of the room, awaiting instructions. Kevin and Chanhee sent you boyish smiles as they waved in greeting. “—I did!”
The lightbulb went off in your head. You couldn’t believe you forgot. “Oh, my god. You actually listened.”
Hyunjae wrinkled his nose. “Hurtful.”
Younghoon laid his head against his arms over the back of his seat with a teasing gleam in his eyes. “Aw, how romantic.”
Hyunjae pointed to his lanky actor friend. “Is he in character?”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Your head shot over to Younghoon just as his eyes met yours. The man shrugged with feigned innocence, standing up to greet Chanhee and Kevin as the other two began slowly leading the army of volunteers down to where you all were setting up. You wondered how on Earth that man’s partner could stand his impish antics.
Hyunjae slipped into the row with you with a wince. “Aish, I can never figure out when he’s in proper character or not.”
“He is,” you blurted. You knew for a fact that Younghoon hadn’t been in character, but Hyunjae didn’t need to know that. Ignorance was bliss, after all. “But that’s besides the point—Jaehyun—”
He flashed you a smile, bringing his hands up to make a jazz hands gesture. “Uh oh, that’s my name-name. I either did really well or screwed up big time.”
You laughed, pressing your free hand to your forehead. “You did really well—”
“Yes!” He cheered while punching the sky. He laughed, bumbling over to you with arms open wide to embrace you. You simply could not escape him. “You’re welcome.”
You lightly punched his chest. “I never said thank you. But thank you. I appreciate it a lot.”
He let you go, lightly patting your head. A warm wave of energy made your nerves feel fuzzy at their synapses. “You don’t have to thank me for doing this for you. By the way, YH!Yn is on her way over; she’s just coming back from her internship.”
Younghoon suddenly, out of nowhere, appeared in the row again. “I heard YH!Yn’s name,” he chirped with a smile that looked like a heart. He waved his phone screen around, as if you could actually read what was on his screen, “Yeah, she said she’s on her way now.”
You nearly melted. “Oh, really? She doesn’t have to if she’s uncomfortable, Hoon. I know big crowds make her anxious—”
“Ah, it’s all good,” he said. “She’s happy to do it, really. It’s not that big of a crowd here, and you’re her friend, Yn. She wants to help out.”
“Speaking of more friends helping out—” cut in Kevin with Chanhee in tow (where did all of them pop up from, goodness), “—Cobie just texted that he, Sangyeon, Juyeon, and JC!Yn are all on their way, too. What’s the plan for all the set pieces then, Yn?”
All eyes went to you, and you felt your heart swell with love, pride—quite literally every happy emotion there was. This whole project had plagued your every waking and unconscious thought for months now. The pressure for this production to be good… there were too many people watching you now. But as you led your friends and your supposed army of volunteers to the backstage area, you felt like there was no way you could fail.
Right?
— ✶
You were cleaning up for the night. Your throat ached and exhaustion wore at your bones from the very extensive day you and everyone else had. Almost the entire cast and volunteer and tech crew members had cleared out by now—your friends had all decided to get dinner together, and you would all head over once you had finished with your business here.
You hiked the strap of your bag over your shoulder with a haggard sigh as you passed beneath the ghost light hanging backstage that signaled that Jihoon was practically done for the night. You caught a glimpse of the man hustling down the corridor and you called out to him.
“Hey, Jihoon-ah! I was hoping I could catch you on your way out.”
Jihoon glanced up from his phone, his slight smile illuminated in the pale blue-light of his phone screen. “Ah, hey, Yn-ie. Good first rehearsal today?”
You fell into step with him as you both maneuvered the dark backstage corridors together. “Yeah, actually. I’m very proud of everyone’s progress so far. I was so stressed about being a couple weeks behind, but… I’m lucky I have such a good group of people here.”
He hummed, nodding. “Definitely. That one—your Hyunjae—”
Your heart stumbled. “Hyunjae? What about him?”
“It’s nothing, but I thought I should mention that I heard a couple girls gossiping earlier—”
You nearly stopped in your tracks, and you felt something crawl beneath your skin. “What’d they say?”
Jihoon glanced over at you, maybe a bit surprised at how sharp your tone was, but he continued on smoothly, “You know that I don’t like involving myself in that petty drama, right? But they were volunteering with the set pieces and stuff, and they were talking shit about him. The usual, like, cocky, arrogant bullshit. Something about wondering how you put up with him all the time.”
You felt your heart drop into the pit of your stomach. “Jesus,” you swore. “Who were they? I’ll deal with them—”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said to you, firmly but not unkindly. The two of you had stopped in the middle of the corridor now, your voices hushed yet harsh still. “Hey, Yn—I took care of it. I don’t tolerate that shit in my theater, you hear? You have a lot on your plate, so I didn’t want you to worry, but I wanted to make sure you knew.”
Breathe, Yn. Your eyes shuddered for a moment. Hyunjae wasn’t always as well-mannered around other people as he was around you and his friends. He was like that for good reason—there were some things in one’s past that shaped who you would become, and unfortunately, that was one thing that you hadn’t been able to protect him from back then. So hearing something like this? You felt awful.
You finally gave Jihoon a nod. “Right, yeah… thanks Jihoon. Really.”
He nodded back. “Of course. Does that happen often?”
You rubbed the place between your eyes where an ache had formed. “No—I mean, he’s just got a front he puts on, but it’s not often. Maybe those girls just witnessed him on one of his bad days. He—” You shook your head.
“I get it; no need to explain it to me,” Jihoon murmured. He gently guided you toward the door out into the main auditorium where Hyunjae said he’d be waiting for you. “He’s a good kid.”
“I know. He’s great.” I love him.
When the two of you emerged into the darkened auditorium, the only light present was the one from Hyunjae’s phone. Your best friend glanced up from his screen, pocketing it away as he stood up to meet you. “Hey, everything okay?”
You and Jihoon exchanged glances. You met Hyunjae’s eyes, your smile small. “Yeah, everything’s fine.”
EPISODE THREE: WE’RE ALL JUST TRYING TO KEEP THE STAGE LIGHTS ON
IT was Monday evening when you determined that you had reached the point in time where everything would only escalate from here. There was something about seeing the backstage crowded with techies that made everything seem ten times more real. Your day had begun an hour or two earlier than the actors’ as you came in to meet Jihoon and Bang Chan about set pieces and creative direction. When your actors had come in, rehearsal commenced by working through the first act of the script and creating a deeper understanding of motivations and purpose.
On Saturday, along with the chemistry explorations, there was also a moment where you had to sit everyone down and give them a better understanding of what this project even came from. (There was a real inspiration to the story, but there was no way you could expose yourself like that, especially in front of Hyunjae.) There had been yet another run through of the script, with some of your actors switching up the way they played their parts just slightly. That same experimentation would continue today.
You were in the box with Chan and a couple of his underclassmen peers as the few of you were discussing the matter of spotlights and the like. It was early in the rehearsal process, but it definitely killed to be early.
You heard a slight commotion as the doors at the back of the auditorium opened.
“You got it covered in here?” You asked Chan, already one foot out of the tech box.
Chan flashed you a dimpled smile and a thumb’s up, and you were on your way out and toward the sounds of newcomers. You could already make out the figures of your friends Park Jihyo and Wen Junhui from where you were running up to them.
“YN!” Jihyo squealed as she rushed to come bury you in a hug.
“Oh my god, thanks for coming, you guys,” you gushed, crushing yourself to her.
Jun scurried over, wrapping his limbs around the two of you, as well. The two of them had quite literally insisted on coming to this rehearsal as your sanity check, which you deeply appreciated. Well that, and the fact that Jihyo was helping you manage the finances for this project, as well as any sponsors who came through to support the play. You had never been good with that stuff, but luckily, your econ-business-major friend was. (Jun was always there for moral support; him being versed in acting also helped, too, with directing when you couldn’t.)
The three of you immediately got to work, and you were finally able to return to your own actors as the lot of you worked through the first couple of scenes of act one.
“What do you suggest we talk about?” Eunwoo asked from stage left where he and Younghoon lingered with their scripts in hand. They were standing opposite the stage from Miyeon and Sana, who were supposed to walk onto the stage from the right like walking into a restaurant. The main focus of the scene was supposed to be Miyeon and Sana, but because Younghoon and Eunwoo were still onstage, they had to act like they were actually doing something even if their microphones wouldn’t be activated.
Younghoon gave a shrug and an easygoing smile. “What do you think Kai and Ryan talk about?”
“Kai feels like the kind of pompous jerk who speaks only in Ralph Waldo Emerson and Sylvia Plath.”
“That could be an interesting dynamic,” Jun chimed in.
You lifted a shoulder in agreement. “I say ‘yes’. Let’s just see what this looks like—Eunwoo, play that; Younghoon, play the exact opposite.”
Younghoon sputtered a laugh, but he saluted, understanding your directions (somehow… it was probably because you had worked with him for a long time over the course of both of your academic careers). “Aye-aye.”
You made a waving motion toward stage right where Miyeon and Sana were poking their heads out from behind the curtains. “Ready? Action.”
It turned out that the overly smart version of Kai was not what the scene needed. After a couple of new directions to Eunwoo about this little thing, you eventually settled on a nice in-between that reminded you awfully of a certain someone…
Lo and behold, you heard the doors at the back of the auditorium open up once more. You didn’t turn your attention away from the scene playing out before you, but you had an inkling of who had entered the sphere of the dramatic.
It wasn’t until the brunch scene had finished, you pursed your lips, nodding. “I like that.”
“I like it, too,” Jihyo said, paired with a nod from Jun.
You flipped through your script, asking for the actors taking part in the next scene—the bar scene—to come to the stage. “Uhm, let’s see… I need all of the main cast, barring Kai and Alex, to the stage. I also need Bartender 1 to come out, as well.” You waved your hand around toward the middle of the stage. “Make a little cult circle or something—yes, Younghoon, you have to stand next to Miyeon, silly goose.”
It was now that you finally turned around to confirm your prediction of who had joined the crowd. Just a few rows up from where you and your friends were sat three eager faces. Presently, it was Hyunjae, Eric, and his girlfriend, the former of which greeted you by raising up what looked like an iced caramel macchiato. God bless.
You hustled up to where they were, making grabby hands at the frost drink. “Thank you,” you sighed, accepting the drink and straw from him.
“Aye! Hyunjae!” Younghoon hollered from the stage. “Where’s my drink?”
Hyunjae cupped his hands around his mouth. “The kid has it!”
“I’m not a kid,” Eric sulked as he attempted to cross his arms over his chest while also not spilling the iced americano he was in possession of.
“That’s right!” EC!Yn mused, then added, “You’re my baby.”
Hyunjae wrinkled his nose at the lovey-dovey young lovers. “Oh, now that was awful, EC!Yn,” he groaned. He nudged your elbow from where you stood next to his seat. “Wasn’t that gross?”
Your brain was filled with caramel and caffeine. “Leave them be, Jae. At least they have someone to be gross with.”
Hyunjae mocked a face of offense, and Eric and his girlfriend slipped past you two in youthful giggles to go deliver Younghoon’s drink to him down at the bottom stage. When the two of you were left alone, Hyunjae pressed his cheek against his fist as he peered up at you. “How’s today been so far?”
You finished your sip, swallowing down the sugary, caffeinated goodness. “It’s been alright so far. I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Well,” he sighed, “I knew you were probably going hours without water, so I thought I’d at least bring you something pleasant.”
You sat down on the floor beside his aisle seat, silently offering him a sip of the drink he had treated you to. “You know me too well. And what do you mean? You did bring me something pleasant.”
Hyunjae took a ginger sip of the drink then pushed the cup back toward you. He grinned, flipping a lock of imaginary hair behind his shoulder. “Ah, you mean me—”
“I meant the kids,” you teased as you smiled around your straw with a look that was hardly innocent.
He deadpanned at you. “Never letting my head stay in the clouds ever, huh, Miss Ln?”
“Someone has to keep you humble.”
A soft laugh fell from his lips as he shook his head, then pressed his lips to his knuckles. “Well I guess if it's gotta be anybody, it should be you. Then again, that Chanhee keeps me on my toes, too."
"Weren't you the one who said he had no ass first?"
He let out a snort. "I only speak the truth."
"That you do," you agreed.
Hyunjae flicked his phone screen on for a second to catch the time and grunted. "Ugh, I have to go meet with my group members for a project in Public Infrastructure."
Your lips curled downward. "It's literally the first day of the quarter—you have a project already?"
He huffed sharply out of his mouth, sending one of his longer bits of bangs flying upward. "That's what I'm saying. Professor is insane this quarter, especially for putting me in this group. He said he picked our groups for us because we 'don't always get to choose in the real world'." He made a face. "Somebody has hurt that man, and we are paying for it. Pretty sure the people in my group don't even like me."
Your chest ached at that, and you leaned your chin onto his arm rest while he settled his head against the back of his chair. "I'm sorry, Jae. I know group projects are hard with strangers, but maybe they'll be cool with you? Are you just a little anxious maybe?"
"Dunno," he mumbled, picking at a stray thread on the red seat. He raked a hand through his hair, shifting. "I'm just dreading it, I guess. I just have that feeling y'know?"
"Yeah, I get that." You bumped your hand against his, mustering up an encouraging smile. "You're gonna be okay, Jae. I believe in you."
Hyunjae collected himself enough to smile back. "I can always count on you, Yn."
"Of course," you said, as easy as breathing air. You exhaled, "What are best friends for?"
— ✶
You found yourself seated in the darkness of the auditorium seats, the ghost light of the stage your only company. The ghost light was a single bulb that hung from mid stage in order to prevent any mishaps or accidents from happening when one had to stumble about in the darkness of the theater. It was a single part of theater superstition, as well as a sign that Jihoon and Chan had gone on their way for the night, leaving you to lock up. You'd been given charge of empty theaters before, and frankly, the peace and quiet was something you needed.
The time was nearing nine o'clock though, and your stomach growled at the thought of going back to your warm townhouse shelter for some pity ramen.
You finally shut the lid of your laptop, slipping it into your bag so you could stretch your aching limbs. You popped a couple joints as you did, then reached for your drained cup of iced caramel macchiato.
The rest of rehearsal had gone reasonably well. You were making progress, and that was the important part. Eric and his girlfriend had left a little before Hyunjae had in order to go get dinner together. Hyunjae had understandably been reluctant to leave, but he basically convinced you to let him call you while he made his way over to his project meet up location. You were directing as he did, but he didn't seem to mind and listened quietly with the occasional humorous comment.
You hoped he was doing okay.
Just as you slung your bag over your shoulder, typing out a fast text to Hyunjae to ask about how it went, your ears picked up the faint sound of creaking wood.
You froze, your head whipping around the very empty theater for the sound.
You heard it again—it was the slow, haunting creeeak, like someone was taking a deliberately drawn-out step. The hand around your phone tightened as you turned your gaze to the stage. The ghost light hung eerily in the now-quiet hall, its amber light creating a circle of light beneath it like a beacon for creatures of the night.
Creeeak… creeeak…
"Jihoon?" You called out. "Chan? Is that you?"
The creaking stopped; a shiver crawled down your spine.
"Is someone there?"
When you were met with silence, you pressed a hand to your forehead, speed-walking up the aisle of the theater and out into the lobby. Swiftly locking all the doors behind you as you made your exit, you figured you were probably just hearing things.
As you deposited your empty cup into the trash bin just outside the theater doors, you received a reply from Hyunjae. The performance hall door thunked closed after you twisted the lock mechanism into place.
With no more than a glance at the dark windows, you turned on your heel and made a beeline for the bus stop.
EPISODE FOUR: IT'S ALWAYS THE DARK AND STORMY NIGHTS
FRIDAY night brought an onslaught of the sky's wrath in the form of a storm. Rehearsal had progressed decently, and while you did appreciate how hard everyone was working, you had to remind yourself that you couldn’t rush the process if you wanted a phenomenal end product. You just needed to have faith in the people you were working with.
Nearly everyone had gone home by now, barring yourself, Jihoon, Chan, and a couple of undergrads they were keeping around to show them the ropes. You were in the backstage area packing up your things to head out for the night. You could hear the voices of your peers echoing slightly through the bowels of the theater, but none of them were too near to your location.
The hairs on the back of your neck suddenly stood up as you reached for a page of script cues that one of the techies had left behind on a stool.
You straightened, your eyes scanning the backstage area. All the lights were on tonight since Jihoon and Chan were still here. The ghost light was not your only companion tonight, and yet…
There had been a feeling creeping up on you this past week… something unsettling like you were being watched. Perhaps it wasn’t you specifically being watched—it was more so that you were never truly alone when you knew no one else was here with you. There was something bothering you about the shadows of the theater lately, and they had almost never been anything but comforting.
You had to visibly suppress your soul from jumping out of your skin when you heard that goddamn wooden creaking sound.
“Yn-ie?”
Your heart did about five cartwheels and a barrel leap as you whirled around to find Chan coming in from the other side of the curtain. He noticed your jumpiness and concern fell over his features. “Hey, you good?”
You usually weren’t so much of a scaredy cat, dear god. You let out a laugh, though it sounded more nervous than you liked. “Yeah—no, yeah, I’m fine. Just a little antsy, is all.” Yeah, that’s it. You slung the strap of your bag over your shoulder and walked over to Chan to bump fists with him in greeting. “You and the others wrapping up?”
Chan’s eyes swept over you and his mouth quirked into an expression that told you he didn’t believe your “I’m fine” bit at all. But he was never one to pry where he believed to be crossing a line. “Not really, actually,” he sighed, cupping the back of his neck above the headset hanging there, as the two of you moved back into the main auditorium together. “We just realized that some of the speakers have been left on for the past week. They seem to keep coming on even though we turn them off; just outdated tech, I guess. But we’re trying to see if we can fix them before considering getting new ones.”
The hammering in your heart subsided for a moment as your brows pinched together and your brain switched into work-mode. “Really? Okay, well, let me know if I can do anything to help—that is weird.”
You eventually said goodnight to everyone left in the performing arts hall as you let yourself out through the front doors. The rain seemed to have subsided from earlier, and the night was left with dark cumulus clouds looming above your head, and rain-soaked streets that smelled heavily of metal and petrichor. A cold, biting wind swept past your face and nipped at your extremities as you pulled your jacket around you tighter.
The walk to the bus stop wasn’t an awfully long one, but…
You stopped.
You swore you just heard a clattering sound from just behind you. Your attention went to a collection of trash cans sitting only a few meters behind you. When no animal revealed itself to be the source of the noise, you clutched your small canister of mace into your fist.
A tingling sensation crawled down your spine, and you turned on your heel to start walking faster toward the bus stop.
There weren’t many street lights posted in this area of campus, but if you could just get—
“YN!”
You nearly screamed when someone grabbed you by the shoulder, and you lifted the can of mace up in between you and the person.
“Shit, Yn. It’s just me!” Hyunjae slapped his palm over yours and shoved the nozzle of the mace can down and out of his vision. He wrestled your body to a stop, anchoring you to reality. “Holy shit, honey. Shhh, calm down. It’s just me.”
You furiously inhaled and exhaled, your chest rising and falling as you pressed a hand to your sternum. “Lee Hyunjae, what is wrong with you?” You growled. Had it been him this whole time?
Hyunjae dared a cheeky smile. “Well, I just saw you from down the street and I thought you saw me, but you kept walking. I guessed you were just in your head tonight, so I thought it’d be fun to surprise you.”
“You don’t grab a girl in the middle of a darkened, abandoned street and yell in her ear to surprise her.” Your eyes were hard as you reprimanded him; he was your best friend, yes, but you nearly had a heart attack right then. Your nerves were so on-edge that you just couldn’t joke with him at this moment.
He winced then. “Ah, when you put it like that…” He pressed his lips together, eyes taking in your tense form. There was something else in your face other than annoyance at his stupidity—something that troubled him. His voice grew soft, his touch even softer, as his hand cupped the back of your shoulder in a warm hold. “Hey, everything okay? I’m really sorry for doing that; it was stupid of me.”
You huffed a sigh and avoided his eyes. “This isn’t the first time I thought someone was watching me,” you confessed lowly, so not even the wind could hear you.
Hyunjae’s eyes widened when you said that, and he was swift to wrap an arm around your shoulders and gather you against him. His gaze surveyed your surroundings and the shadows seemed to dance in his view; his breath hitched. “Let’s get you home,” he murmured then, “I’m parked nearby.”
EPISODE FIVE: THE ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM
THE next day, Jihyo, Jun, Jacob, and Kevin were seated deep into the nosebleeds within the dim areas of the theater. Straight ahead, you and Hyunjae stood in the first few rows of seats as the actors were doing a run-through of the first act of the play. Hyunjae simply sat in the seat next to you, but you were doing your director thing. It wasn’t out of the ordinary at all to see you two so close, but something had shifted overnight from the last time all of them had seen you and he interact.
“Remind me again why you guys are here so early?” Jihyo’s question was directed toward Jacob and Kevin as she sipped on her morning cup of coffee. Everyone in the row was armed with their own cup of caffeinated brew, too; that was simply what being awake at nine on a Saturday morning called for.
Kevin peered at the other two from around Jacob. “His girlfriend and Chanhee are grocery shopping.”
Jun snorted. “Are they roommates? Why’s Chanhee grocery shopping with JC!Yn? Sounds a bit random.”
“They’re with her roommate and Changmin, too,” Jacob replied with a joking roll of his eyes. “Kevin’s just petty that they’ve never thought to extend the invitation to us.”
“Hey! You always hint at wanting to join them, too. It’s not just me, good sir.”
“I asked once, and when she said no, I never asked again—”
“—he’d only say that because he’s been scorned by love,” Younghoon lamented from the stage, his arm braced along the back of Miyeon’s folding chair. Props were still being finalized between a couple options, but Jun had found a bunch of folding chairs in a closet that you could use for the bar scene. Everyone’s attention moved away from invitation-less friends to friends playing pretend. He made a dramatic gesture, clutching his heart, then straightening with a laugh as he teased his friend who wasn’t in the scene. “I still think it’s stupid that he and Alex never worked out.”
Eunbi’s eyebrows flew up to her hairline as her hand, holding a water bottle that would later be replaced with a drink glass, froze in mid-air. “I’m sorry? This is news to me. Since when did Kai and Alex even have a chance at ‘working out’?”
Miyeon let out a delighted gasp. “Oh, where to begin?”
Yerin piped in with a lazier gesture with her water bottle. “They weren’t always sworn enemies, y'know. Once upon a time, the ‘lovebirds’ were actually lovebirds,” she chuckled at her own joke—or, her character’s joke.
Younghoon explained, "Their parents pretty much pitted them against each other since the end of middle school. They used to be friends, actually, and they were top of their class in practically everything. Except…"
"Academic League?" Eunbi guessed with her brows twisted. "I remember hearing about something like that."
"Yeah, I mean," Miyeon added, "something happened in junior year and it's been like that since."
"What happened in junior year?—"
Jihyo watched the performance with narrowed eyes, her body leaned forward onto her knees. "This sounds awfully familiar."
The three boys turned their heads her way. "What do you mean?"
She shook her head, eyes fluttering. She made a face and cocked her head to the side in thought. "Okay, maybe it's not exactly like what I'm… Jun, you remember when Yn told us about—you know?"
"That she almost confessed to Hyunjae? Ow! I'm sorry!" Jun yelped as Jihyo slapped his shoulder, hard.
Jacob and Kevin exchanged wide-eyed glances. "She almost confessed to Hyunjae? When?"
Jihyo sent Jun another hard glare, to which he sheepishly raised his hands in surrender, before replying, "Yn said offhandedly once that in junior year of high school, she was almost going to confess her feelings to Hyunjae, but then suddenly decided not to."
Kevin leaned his chin onto his fist. "Huh…"
"I don't know how I didn't even notice this before when I read through the script," Jihyo thought aloud. "Alex and Kai are Yn and Hyunjae—just…with a different ending."
All four heads turned to face forward once more, except, their attention zeroed in on you and Hyunjae. YH!Yn had appeared beside you, most likely updating you on the progress of the massive prop project she was working on for the play. You listened to her report intently as Hyunjae sat next to you, his head leaned onto your shoulder as he played some game on his phone. It was far too soft, far too—there was no way you based this all off of your own experience with Hyunjae, right?
In fact, it was possible.
As YH!Yn let you know that she would have to buy a few more PVC pipes from the hardware store, you assured her that she would be reimbursed for those expenses.
“—I know how busy you are—”
YH!Yn smiled sweetly as she cut you off, “Oh, no worries at all! I’m happy to help, as Hoon said before. Plus, this is a lot more fun than my internship; feels like a little creative project I get to nerd out on.”
You grinned at that sentiment. “Ah, I totally get that. Well, I won’t keep you from it any longer. Thanks again.”
YH!Yn gave a brief goodbye, then stood up to head back out to the backstage area where she was putting together the portable fountain she was building (you had given her a list of possible “show-stopping” prop ideas you had and she had picked the fountain). As she left, you watched as she passed by the bottom stage to catch Younghoon’s hand. Something like yearning ached in your chest. One day…
The mass weighing on your opposite shoulder stirred as he let out a noise of surprise. “Huh?”
You glanced over at him as best you could, then flashed Younghoon a thumb’s up to signal him that you were paying attention now. “Huh what?”
Hyunjae sat up straight, his nose scrunched, eyes pinned to his phone screen. “Didn’t you have a friend named Ellie in like, high school?”
Your lips curled into a slight frown at the name; it definitely rang a bell. “I did, what about her?” You asked. The sounds of the dialogue happening on stage faded to glorified background noise as you leaned over to peer at Hyunjae’s phone screen. There, he had a new text thread pulled up with an unknown number introducing herself as Ellie, a “classmate of his from high school”. Not only were you frowning, but your forehead creased, too. It had been ages since you had last been in contact with her. The two of you had been the best of friends before you drifted apart.
To be honest, you had no idea how the two of you drifted apart so easily when you’d been so close to her, but you ended up getting closer to Hyunjae anyway. You chalked it up to differences in interests, but maybe now you could get some answers. Well, that was depending on why she was texting Hyunjae.
“She texted me,” he said, holding the screen between you two. “Recognize the number?”
You could barely remember your own number. Shaking your head, you lifted your gaze back up to the stage where your actors had already moved through most of the scene. “Nope. Might be a new one since it’s been so long. Wonder how she got your phone number.”
Hyunjae blew out a puff of air as he laughed—you saw him begin to type out a response from the corner of your eye. “How do people not get my number at this point,” he grumbled under his breath.
— ✶
It wasn’t until you were seated in the booth of Junhui’s favorite Chinese restaurant on the Ave that he and Jihyo ambushed you with The Question™.
“So when were you going to tell us that the play was about you and Hyunjae?”
Your movements paused, then resumed so you could properly settle into your seat. "At least let me order first."
To their credit, your friends withheld from further questioning until the waiter had come by to take the table's order. When she had gone and was out of earshot, Jihyo pounced, whipping her head over to you and placing a hand on the table between you. You realized suddenly that you were trapped between her and the wall.
"Spill."
Your eyes widened a smidge, intimidated. "How did you guys figure it out? I mean, it's not that obvious, is it?"
Jun shook his head. "Nah, not really. Ji was just on five shots of espresso this morning apparently."
Jihyo sent him a pointed look. "I was not on five shots of espresso…" She murmured, "It was two."
"Okay, five shots, two shots—" Jihyo flapped her hands around as she angled her body toward you. "It was the bar scene and they were all talking about Alex and Kai. And I thought that the bit about junior year sounded really familiar."
"I can't believe you didn't confess to him back then," Jun feigned a disproving shake of his head while clicking his tongue.
You leaned your face against the palm of your hand with an unpretty fwump. "Guys, the play is basically centered around the idea: what if I had confessed to Hyunjae and it went wrong?"
"Just ten times more dramatic," Jun pointed out.
"And," Jihyo added, "their roles are switched. Kai's the one who confesses to Alex in the play, and it's Alex's ex who makes a grand showing at the wedding festivities to cause trouble. Yn doesn't have an ex."
"Uncalled for," you grunted.
Jihyo gave a charmingly beautiful smile that could make all the world fall at her feet. "You love me."
"You're lucky you're cute."
Jun sipped on his water. "I'm right here."
You and Jihyo bursted into giggles, the sound like twinkling bells. Jun sighed softly, but you saw the corners of his lips lift up into a small smile. For a moment, you had forgotten what the topic of this conversation was.
You sobered slightly, your hands reaching for your water glass to take a gulp, then nurse it between your palms. "Have you ever heard the saying that we always try to recreate our first heartbreak in order to rewrite how it ends?"
Jihyo and Jun quieted. They peered at you with eyes that could peer straight into your soul if you let them. That was why you couldn't exactly meet their eyes as you tried to articulate your thoughts behind writing this whole mess. "I mean," you pursed your lips, "it wasn't a heartbreak; it was never a heartbreak. My heart hadn't been broken because how could it be broken if I never even let it. You know?"
"That's not how a lot of hearts are broken, Yn," Jun murmured with a sincere depth to his dark brown eyes. There was something so soulful about them. "Most are broken in silence."
You huffed slightly. "That was a great line."
"I know—"
"Ahem," Jihyo said, reigning the both of you drama geeks back into the realm of real talk. She leaned over to wrap her arms around you, her head resting on top of your own. "So you wrote this… to conquer your fears? To comprehend your feelings?"
"To imagine, to wish, to dream," you added. It was quite sad, really. You couldn't quite think of writing anything else when the time had come to start drafting your thesis. "We write what we know best."
"I thought Hyunjae was basically there throughout this whole process," Jun said, his elbows resting on top of the table as he gestured vaguely. "How has he not figured out that Alex is him?"
You gave a shrug. You couldn't imagine how he hadn't yet figured it out, but it wasn't exactly the most obvious thing. You would soon rather go missing than Hyunjae ever figuring out the truth behind the play's inspiration. Whenever he asked you, it was always "I was so inspired by Kenneth Branuagh and Emma Thompson's rendition of the play" and "I wanted to spice up an old, timeless play and give it a kick of Today". He believed that you were writing a play based solely upon the themes of childhood manipulation, academic pressure, and miscommunication. And you were—just not only those things.
Your thesis would have never been accepted if you'd only presented a skeleton of a play about your nonexistent love life. All of the additions and embellishments to the story had come easy as you pieced together the plotline. But the two main characters had never changed.
With that now settled, the food arrived at your table. (What a brilliantly timed, cosmic coincidence!) You and your friends thought it best to move onto other topics of conversation. Somehow, you had reached the topic of your recent week of weird feelings. Not just about Hyunjae, but about the strange feeling of constantly not being alone. You'd even explained the entire debacle from last night, with Hyunjae scaring you then rushing you home.
Jihyo and Jun both replied appropriately: "Girl, what the fuck?"
You brushed it off with a nonchalance that was not convincing. (Then again, you were never an actress yourself.)
The rest of dinner progressed relatively smoothly, and when the check had come and gone, you wanted to offer a mint to your friends.
"—shit," you swore as you dug around in your bag. When your hand came up empty-handed, you brushed that same hand through your hair. "I left my Altoids in the theater."
Jihyo finished signing her bill, tucking her card away. "Oh? Well, let's go get them."
Jun bobbed his head as he shouldered his coat on. "Yeah, it's no problem, Yn-ie."
"Really? You guys don't have to; they're just min—"
"Nonsense!" Jihyo chirped. She stood up and out of the booth, giving you the space to slip out after her. She then linked your arm with hers, then hooked her other with Jun's. "Power in numbers, my love."
You could do nothing but agree—wholeheartedly. The way your heart rate slowed when she insisted that she and Jun would accompany you showed just how grateful you were. You probably wouldn't have even gone to retrieve them tonight, but waited until Monday instead. They were just mints, after all, but you were appreciative nonetheless. Even for a small item, they would be by your side.
The journey back to the theater was a brief one as Jun drove the three of you back to the performing arts center and pulled into the space right by the stairs up to the hall. You recalled leaving them on one of the dressing room tables in the back corridors, so you used your student ID to buzz into the back hallway of the performing arts building.
You and your friends' voices hushed as you all crept into the dark, abandoned building. When the door closed behind you all, you turned your phone flashlight on to guide your way toward the dressing rooms.
"It should be in one of these rooms," you told your friends as you entered the hallway of doors. You located a familiar number and pushed into the room, swiftly retrieving the teal-colored metal box of minty sweets on the vanity table.
The door closed softly when you slipped out.
"Hey, how's YH!Yn's fountain project coming along?" Jun asked as the three of you began to make your way back toward the back door.
"Oh yeah!" Jihyo perked up. "How's that going? She's so badass for that."
"Isn't she?" You gushed. "Do you guys wanna see her progress?"
There was an obvious answer to that, and the three of you made a hard one hundred eighty degree turn, swerving back down the corridor from which you had just come from. Your conspiratorial giggles echoed within the rafters and bowels of the theater, as if you were pixies from A Midsummer Night's Dream, frolicking through the forest in which they dwelled.
When you reached the vicinity of the backstage area, your footsteps faltered.
It was still dark.
You frowned, slowly stepping into the backstage area.
"Yn? What's wrong?"
Jun said it before you could, "Huh. The ghost light's not on."
Indeed, the bulb that was supposed to be on when no light was, was pitch black. A cool breeze drifted down your spine, making the hairs on the back of your neck and your arms stand up.
"Could Jihoon or Chan have forgotten on their way out?"
"You know Jihoon's not one to forget."
You drifted away from your friends as you slowly stepped into the backstage area. Your flashlight shone toward the walls first as you aimed to make your way toward the lights panel. It would be an easy fix—
Your heart dropped clean into the pit of your stomach.
The light of your flashlight illuminated the absolute chaos.
Setting and backdrop pieces that had been painted by volunteers, articles of clothing collected for people's costumes, scripts left behind torn out of their staples—all of it was flung about and scattered over the backstage floor. It was like a tornado had swept through the area, and you knew your friends were seeing what you were seeing now.
You held your breath for so long you were pretty sure you were imagining the hands shaking you.
Somebody had come in and took their rage out on your play. But who, and more importantly, why?
EPISODE SIX: PHANTOM OF THE PERFORMING ARTS HALL
"WHAT'S up with the ghost light anyway?"
There was a group of you gathered by the stage of the performing arts hall, the house lights having been turned on after you'd made a call to Jihoon and campus security. Along with Jihoon and campus security, however, Hyunjae, Juyeon, Eric, and Younghoon had also appeared. You had shot Hyunjae a text about what had happened and he'd rushed over with his friends—you felt awful about pulling them away from whatever they were doing, but Hyunjae didn't say anything about it.
You sat on the edge of the stage next to Jihyo with Jun and Hyunjae standing by you both on the floor of the auditorium. Well, Hyunjae stood in front of you and you leaned your chin on top of his beanie-covered head while the lot of you waited for whatever security pulled up from the limited amount of cameras. Jihoon had disappeared somewhere to make a call—you would hear from him, too, soon.
The question had been posed by Juyeon, who sat next to Eric and Younghoon in the first row of nosebleeds.
Jun dragged a hand down the side of his face, then rubbed his mouth. "Ah, it's uhm, old theater superstition," he replied. "Usually, backstage crew leaves the ghost light on so anybody coming in doesn't trip on anything or accidentally get hurt or, y'know—break anything."
"It couldn't have just gone out because of the power then?" Hyunjae asked.
Younghoon shook his head. "Usually it runs on the same electricity that every other light runs on. I've never been in a theater where the ghost light just randomly goes out, and there weren't any power outages today either."
"The problem isn't even about the ghost light," you said. Everyone's eyes flickered over to you and Hyunjae. Hyunjae patted one of the legs you had on either side of his upper body as a means of consolation or comfort. "It's about the props and costumes. We're just lucky that they were just scattered and not properly damaged. We would've been set back another week at least."
Eric perked up. "Maybe it's the ghost of Shakespeare haunting the hall!"
A snort fell from your lips as you mused, "Shakespeare in the park?"
Hyunjae cleared his throat as he prepared his best rendition of the Iron Man line: "Doth mother know you weareth her drapes?"
As the two of you shared a giggle and fistbump, the other remaining members of your party sent you strange, confused looks.
Younghoon gave an eye roll. "Oh dear god, you two really are meant for each other."
You caught Jun and Jihyo whip their heads toward you, but before anything else could be said, Jihoon was hustling back into the auditorium from the lobby doors in the back. He brushed the hair out of his eyes as he jogged over to where all of you were gathered, those signature bags under his eyes prominently featured. Oh, you definitely felt terrible.
"What'd they say, Jihoon?" Jihyo asked first.
Jihoon tucked his hands into his pockets as he joined the loose cult circle. "Security found that the locks on the front of the hall were picked open, so they wouldn't have gotten a record of somebody's card being used. Cams picked up someone dressed in black, but they knew where the camera would have gotten a clear shot of them. But because there wasn't anything officially damaged, there isn't much legal action we can take."
Juyeon offered quietly, "Breaking and entering."
Jihoon gestured to him. "Right. Breaking and entering, but that's about it." He pinched the bridge of his nose between his eyes. "It wasn't just a prank or whatever. At least, I don't think so. What do you think, Yn?"
You swallowed, straightening slightly. "I don't think so either. I mean, I don't think any drunk pranksters would go through the trouble of picking open a lock. Even a sober one."
"Maybe a spiteful classmate," Jun suggested with a meager shrug. "Some people are ruthless."
"If there isn't much we can do, or much security is willing to do," you muttered, "then we should call it a night. We just have to take pains to lock everything up every rehearsal now."
Jihoon nodded sharply. "Right. Pains, but necessary ones."
"I'm sorry this happened to you," Eric frowned. A murmur of agreement echoed from everyone else in the group.
You pursed your lips. "It's okay, I—it's not okay, obviously, but I'm glad no one's hard work was properly destroyed. That's all that matters." Even if your nerves were a little shaken. Who could have done this?
The remainder of your time spent in the theater was picking everything up and putting them in their rightful places. By the time the group of you had finished locking everything up, the night had slipped away into its proper depths. Everyone was ready to get the hell out of here and go home to their beds, and Jihoon was certain to show you the ghost light being turned and sustaining for at least a couple minutes before the two of you were the last out.
Juyeon, Eric, Younghoon, and Jihoon said their goodnights and goodbyes, already departing their separate ways to go home. You lifted your head up to find where Jihyo and Jun were waiting for you when you saw Hyunjae standing closer to the entryway of the hall. He gave you a sleepy smile, opening up his arms for you to walk right into.
"Tired?" He chuckled, the sound creating a soft vibration in his chest as you shoved your face into his pretty-smelling sweater.
"Mm," you grunted. "You didn't go home with Younghoon?"
"Nah. I wanna go home with you."
In any other context, in any other situation, that would have meant something completely different. You swallowed, wrapping your arms around his frame. With a nod, you screwed your eyes shut and swept away those wistful thoughts. "Okay, fine."
You didn't know why you kept doing this to yourself. But he was your best friend, and tonight was… a lot. A friendly sleepover was something you needed—at least, that was what you were telling yourself.
— ✶
Being the oh-so courteous guest he was (especially since he practically invited himself over), Hyunjae let you take the shower first. You shared a townhouse a bus ride away from the university campus with two others whom you knew from rooming with them your first year of college. You had lucked out with the random roommate assignments that year, and the three of you weren't the closest nor best of friends, but you found great housemates in each other, which was just as valuable.
You had your own room and ensuite up on the topmost floor, so you and Hyunjae had a bit of privacy and wouldn't bother your friends below. You had finished with your shower a bit ago, so you were settled on your bed, flipping through emails and ensuring no important ones had ended up in the spam folder.
When you heard the door open from the bathroom, you glanced up, but returned your gaze back to this one email about a sponsorship that needed to be added to the playbill later.
"I accidentally grabbed the wrong shirt."
You hummed in question as you quickly forwarded the email to Jihyo, then looked up. A laugh sputtered out of your mouth as you took in Hyunjae taking up the space of your doorway. He was in a pair of his own sweatpants that he often left here, but instead of one of his t-shirts, he must have accidentally grabbed one of your tops. It was a Hello Kitty one you'd found in the back of your closet awhile ago, and fit you pretty nicely, so it looked strained on Hyunjae.
You flopped onto the bed, rolling around in your own laughter. "Jae!—your tits don't fit in that, honey."
Hyunjae's mouth stretched into a grin, his tongue darting out for a second. His dirty blond hair, damp and curly, hung slightly in his eyes over his forehead. "Oh, shut up."
To your detriment (you deserved this, you really did), he then smiled (more like, smirked) as he casually lifted the top over his head.
Your eyes widened just as your entire body lit up on fire. "Hey, woah there! Dude!" You jokingly covered your eyes—your whole face—with your hands as he flicked the shirt off, straightened it out, then stalked over to your closet to swap tops.
Hyunjae rolled his eyes as he ripped another shirt from a hanger and came to take a seat on the edge of the bed. "You've seen me shirtless before, Yn. Calm down."
No. How could you just calm down—? It was nearly impossible when you saw the way the muscles in his back rippled as he yanked the new, white T-shirt over his head. With muted sadness, you watched as the toned muscle on his stomach disappeared beneath the fabric.
Damn.
"You're drooling."
Your eyes darted up to where he was grinning down at his phone screen now, only looking at you from his periphery where you were still lying on the bed.
You huffed, rising onto your knees and hoping your embarrassment wasn't plain as day. But you subtly swiped your thumb across your lower lip to make sure you weren't actually drooling. This is your best friend, Yn; control yourself. "Loser."
"Child."
"Chicken."
"Weirdo."
"Nerd!" You shot back, making him laugh as you draped yourself over his back and tucked his head under your chin. His wet, cold hair tickled your skin, but it was a welcome sensation.
You peered down at his phone with him from your perch. "Who's that?" You asked as he opened up a new text notification from a new number.
You were scanning the message the sender had texted while Hyunjae huffed. "Another of your suitors, milady," he drawled sarcastically.
The message said something like "would she be interested?", the "she" referring to you.
Hyunjae typed out: In you? Probably not.
You let out a gasp, hitting him playfully on the (muscle of his) shoulder. "Hyunjae!"
He snickered, exiting out of the text chain, then deleting the number. "What? I'm just being honest. I feel like every dude who's interested in you goes through me to ask and it's so lame."
You absentmindedly watched as he opened up Instagram and started brainlessly doom-scrolling. "Maybe it's 'cause you've so clearly friendzoned me," you muttered incoherently under your breath.
"Huh? What was that?"
"Maybe it's 'cause they see you as the gatekeeper," you amended, leaving him to climb off your bed and step into the bathroom to prepare your toothbrush for use.
You could hear the incredulity in his voice. "Gatekeeper? Pfft, no way. They're all just cowards; they don't deserve you if they can't ask you out to your face." After a second, he added, "Hey, I don't gatekeep you!"
You made a face at yourself in the mirror as you brushed your teeth. "Uh-huh."
"That's not reassuring, Yn-ie."
You poked your head out of the bathroom and made eye contact with where he had rearranged his position so he sat up against the headboard. "I was just agreeing with you," you teased, then retreated back into the bathroom to finish up your night routine.
"No, you weren't, you menace."
You flicked the lights in the bathroom and bedroom off and rolled onto the bed next to him. The two of you laid facing each other in the dark, your bodies kept to your own sides of the bed and blanket. You both were propped onto your sides, one arm tucked beneath your head.
"I don't gatekeep you," he said into the silence, his voice lowering to match the volume of darkness. He poked your cheek with a finger, as if he could stamp the declaration there.
You gave a small smile. "Okay, Jae." A thought suddenly occurred to you as you broke your stare-down to twist around and grab your phone from the nightstand to see if Jihyo and Jun had said something to the group chat. "Oh, by the way, did you ever figure out what Ellie wanted?"
Hyunjae shifted so he was on his back now, one hand still braced behind his head and the other resting on his stomach—but his eyes still watched you. "Something about a random high school project from senior year. She couldn't find the file for it and wanted to draw inspiration from it or something."
"I didn't know you had a project with her in senior year," you said offhandedly, shutting your phone off and replacing it onto the nightstand. You sighed, slipping further beneath the covers and closer to Hyunjae.
He drew you close, tucking you beneath his chin this time. "Yeah, it wasn't really important. Nothing to worry about."
"I wasn't worrying."
You could already feel yourself drifting off into dreamland, the exhaustion in your eyes making your eyelids close like valance curtains at the very front, lowering to mask the backstage magic from the audience. Except, the magic were your thoughts rocketing into the realm of the fictional. For a split second, you thought about somebody being in your position with your best friend one day. Would it hurt to think about then as much as it did now?
You couldn't exactly think about that future right now. Hyunjae, you liked to think, was far from letting anyone new into his carefully-maintained walls. He had been hurt by people before, and you'd be damned if you didn't protect him from that ever happening again.
You thought Hyunjae had fallen asleep until you felt his thumb brush against the back of your shoulder. "When have I ever friend-zoned you?"
Your heart stuttered in your chest for a moment, but it wasn't enough to wake you up completely. As you drifted off fully, you convinced yourself that you had imagined him saying that. You were both awfully tired, anyway.
EPISODE SEVEN: OH SHIT, WAS MY MIC ON?
TWO whirlwind weeks had flown by. You could hardly even soak in the moments of this last undergraduate project before it all began to blur together. The only ways you were able to properly tell time were crossing out calendar dates and—
“Oh my god, oh my god! Get it out, get it out!”
You, along with everyone present in the main auditorium of the performing arts hall, came to a screeching halt as a flurry of squeals erupted from somewhere deep backstage. You and the conductor of the pit orchestra exchanged concerned expressions before you were making a beeline for the fastest access point backstage. Younghoon and Eunwoo were swift to accompany you, and though you had a sinking feeling you knew what this was, you held your grimace for when you confirmed your suspicions.
Over the past couple of weeks, the feeling of being watched had not faded from the back of your mind. You tried to adjust rehearsal schedules so that they were a little earlier in the evening, but people had lives and you simply could not inconvenience them based on someone trying to scare you. Plus, with the spring season flying in swiftly, the sun retired a lot later, which gave you some peace of mind, at least.
But over that same time, the person meddling with your show had ceased to cease. One day it was sky blue fabric strewn all over the main stage; another day it was peacock feathers left in the projection box; there were cables missing from tech, headsets changed to radio channels. Somebody was clearly pulling out all the stops to ensure that this theater and production was full of old theater superstitions and bad luck, either to scare you or the people you were working with (or both), and frankly—it was working. To an extent.
You stormed into the back corridor of the performing arts hall, the supporting cast and tech crew all sprinkled about the hallway, anxiously watching you and your friends pass by them toward one of the larger dressing rooms.
“What is going on?” You demanded as you entered the dressing room. There was a small gathering of people gawking at something—the dressing room vanity mirror. The breath left your lungs at the sight.
The surface of the mirror was vandalized, the infamous word “Macbeth” scrawled all over its reflective plane in red lipstick. Some of the product had begun to melt from the heat of the lightbulbs around the mirror and dripped down the mirror like blood. It would have been a comical prank if this wasn’t a theater. You felt a stiff, cool breeze run across your skin.
Somebody was really trying to fuck you over, huh.
You shoved down a swallow. “Somebody get me some Windex,” you croaked. When nobody moved, you repeated yourself, forcing a bit more strength into your voice.
Chan appeared in the room, his own eyes pinned to the subject matter upon the mirror, as he handed you a bottle of Windex and an old rag.
You snatched it out of his hands with a “thank you”, then marched up to the mirror. With shaky hands, you began scrubbing away at the word written over and over on the mirror. You heard Chan corral everyone out of the dressing room and back to their original activities. All your senses had dulled by now, and you felt Younghoon gently pry the rag from your hands so he could reach the spaces that you couldn’t.
“Who is doing this?” You voiced to the now sparsely populated dressing room. You sat in one of the dressing room chairs with your hand pressed to your forehead with Younghoon, Chan, and Jihoon present. Eunwoo had gone out to calm people down, but you knew that this was going to draw a line for some people. It was a known superstition not to utter the name of the notorious Scottish Play in a theater, and it had just been named about a couple dozen times on the mirror behind you.
Your friends could offer no suggestions.
Your pride took an even bigger hit when you decided to cut the remainder of rehearsal for the day; you were certain there were at least a handful of people who were scandalized by what just happened.
“Are you okay, though?” Younghoon asked you for the third time as the two of you watched people leave the performing arts hall from the base of the nosebleeds. “I know that you’re not usually so… swayed by superstition.”
You could only give a stiff shrug. “I’m not,” you agreed, “but this is going to be the biggest project and production of my undergrad career. I don’t—I can’t take any chances.” You smoothed a hand over one half of your face. “God, I’m just tired, Hoon. I’m so stressed, and cutting rehearsal short today—we’re gonna be set back another day—”
“Hey,” he soothed, grasping you by the shoulders so you would look him in the eye. He offered a kind smile, “You’re doing great, Yn. I can’t imagine the pressure you’re under right now for this to go perfectly, but I think you have to have a little faith in all of us, including yourself. One rehearsal is not going to make a difference in the long run. We’ve got a lot of talented, hard-working people who will sleep this mishap off and come right back to make up for lost time.”
He squeezed your shoulder. “And whoever’s been doing this? They’ll get their due karma.”
You let his words soak into your brain. You needed this; you needed those words said to you. With a nod, you and Younghoon deigned to head out with everyone else. Jihoon and Chan were swift to shut the theater down for the evening, as well.
As you and Younghoon stepped out into the early evening, the sky still glowed a buttery yellow swirled in purpley-blue. There was another breeze wafting by, but instead of the chills you got before, it was slightly warmer and made you inhale deeply. The air out here made your lungs less constricted, you realized, and maybe you’d been stuck in that theater for too long lately. This would be good for you, as well as everyone else.
“I think me and some of the cast are gonna get together to go over some scenes at the grove,” said Younghoon as he peered down at his phone screen. “Wanna come with?”
You brushed a strand of hair from your face, a decision coming to surface. “Nah, I think I’m gonna take a walk. Get some fresh air.”
Younghoon passed you a brilliant-sort of smile that gleamed in the golden hour light. “Alrighty, director. Sounds good. Have a good night then, Yn-ie.”
“Yeah, you too. Thanks for today, Hoon.”
You and Younghoon parted ways there, and while he traveled down the stairs toward east campus, you traveled northward toward the quad. The quad, a place most known for the cherry blossom trees that bloomed in the early spring, was no doubt full of people taking late afternoon strolls in the temperate spring climate. It was the perfect environment for you to relax and let some of the stress and pressure fade from your pulsing temples.
There were no longer cherry blossom flowers blooming upon the dark branches, but healthy, dark green leaves. Even if they were shades of pink, they were still beautiful nonetheless.
After making a full loop around the quad lawn’s perimeter, you made a detour down one of the side pathways that were lined in trees that yawned toward its partner on the other side of the pathway. It was noticeably quieter and less populated here, and for once, you actually didn’t feel like you were being watched.
You were walking for only a few minutes in the serenity when you saw a pair of people standing in a clearing of trees just to your two o'clock. You stopped, a familiar blond haired best friend catching your eyes.
"What the fuck is your problem?" Was what you heard from Hyunjae, and you almost marched right up to them to defend him.
That was, until you saw the girl's face.
You hadn't recognized her at first because she had her back facing you and she had changed her hair. But it wasn't difficult to recognize your old friend, Ellie, the one who Hyunjae said had contacted her. Your eyebrows furrowed in utter confusion. Why were they together right now? You thought Hyunjae had said weeks ago that she was just trying to get ahold of an old project they'd done together in high school.
Ellie placed her hands on her hips, her facial expression stony and unreadable. "Can you think rationally for a second and listen to me all the way through? That's what you agreed to when you said you'd meet me."
Huh?
You pressed your side against the nearest tree trunk, your heart thundering your eardrums.
When Hyunjae said nothing, Ellie continued, exhaling sharply, "Okay. As I was saying earlier, do you even know what the play's about? …No. Look at you; can't you see? You don't even know what it's really about."
"Of course, I know what it's about," Hyunjae sneered. "It's about how academic pressure and miscommunication can ruin relationships—"
Ellie laughed, the sound mirthful, and yet carried an air of malice that made your skin crawl. This wasn't the Ellie you remembered… "That's funny, oh my god! You really don't know what it's about."
"What are you going on about?"
"I think you should ask her," she said with a smile. You peered around the tree, feeling utterly stupid like one of those characters from a teen drama eavesdropping on their lover and their nemesis. "Ask her, Hyunjae. I'm sure she'll tell you what it's really about when you mention that I told you she st—"
"Yn?"
Oh, for fuck's sake. You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of Jihyo's voice from behind you. You quickly grabbed her and dragged her down behind the tree trunk next to you. When she sent you a look that told you she thought you were completely deranged, you pressed a finger to your lips.
She indulged you, thank god, and followed your lead as you crept around the tree trunk again.
"It's cute that you have so much trust in her," was what you heard Ellie say next.
Jihyo squinted as she tried to identify the girl. "Who the fuck…?"
You kept your eyes glued to the pair before you, but muttered to Jihyo quickly, "That's Ellie. Old friend of mine from high school, but we drifted apart. Haven't talked to her since."
"She and Hyunjae are friends?"
"No, I have no clue what's going on." Yet, your stomach twisted and churned and you felt bile crawl up the length of your throat.
A muscle feathered in Hyunjae's jaw, but he couldn't seem to get himself to say something.
Ellie looked upon him pitifully. "One day, she'll drop you, too—when she finds someone better. That's what she did to me, y'know? I don't know why she went to you, though. You are awful. I've heard all the stories."
You saw red.
This time, Jihyo had to grab a fist full of your shirt and yank you down next to her to prevent you from clawing Ellie's vocal chords clean out of her throat. Because you would have.
Anything—you would've done anything to never see the flash of shame, hurt, and anger across Hyunjae's face when she said that. It was like she'd slapped him, clean and hard. Your chest ached as you watched his hand tighten into a fist at his side.
"You don't know anything about me," he said icily.
And it was over all too soon. Ellie said something to Hyunjae, but it was too quiet to hear. When Ellie left her own way, Hyunjae stalked off in a different direction, leaving you and Jihyo where the two of you remained hunched behind the tree.
You made to get up, but Jihyo pulled you back down again. "Ji, I have to go make sure he's okay—"
"I know you do," she told you firmly while keeping you seated down next to her. "But you're not in the right headspace, and neither is he. You need to breathe, especially after today and whatever the hell that was."
When you sent her a questionable look, she explained, "I bumped into Sana on my way to the performing arts center and she told me what happened. Then Younghoon told me you went on a walk and I just tracked your phone to here."
Your jaw dropped. "You tracked my—"
"Shhh," she shushed you, pressing a finger against your lips. "That's besides the point! Are you okay, Yn? For real."
You leaned back onto your palms, a frown coming up to your lips. "Everyone keeps asking me that lately."
"It's a valid question."
That was fair, you supposed. You released a sigh. "I mean… not really? I'm just stressed, and I don't even know what to think or how to comprehend what we just witnessed." Your brain was buzzing with every one of Ellie's biting words. What had she meant by all of that? She sounded so bitter, so malicious… What had happened?
Jihyo pressed her lips together, sitting down properly onto the grass. "What was that? Did you and Ellie end on bad terms?"
Your brows creased together and you absentmindedly scratched your jaw. "No," you murmured. "Not that I remember. It was just like we drifted apart over time. At least, that's how I remember it. I dunno."
You blew out another breath of air. Ellie and you had both been really good at what you did—theater, writing, all of the works. You two were a dynamic duo; if people now claimed you were a prodigy, then Ellie was your twin. In a way, you could probably say that your characters from the play you wrote almost mimicked yours and Ellie's creative abilities and technical prowess, but just in different spheres. While the love story was based upon you and Hyunjae, the foundation had been from you and Ellie.
But it eventually faded, that friendship. You figured that was just how things worked, as unfortunate as it was. You both moved on, and you found Hyunjae.
You relayed all of this to Jihyo, your friend listening to your words intently.
"—but I've never carried any ill will toward her," you reiterated at the end of your spiel. "I truly haven't heard from her since and she hasn't reached out either. I don't know what could have caused her to tell Hyunjae all of that."
Jihyo pressed her mouth to her knuckles as a thoughtful frown graced her porcelain features. "Hm, yeah. It's curious, for sure. What were they saying before I got here?"
You gnawed on your top lip. "She kept insisting that he didn't know what the play was really about and that he should ask me."
"Huh."
"I know right." You carded a hand through your hair. "I'm screwed."
"Only if he actually works up the guts to ask," she countered. "Though, I think you should beat him to it."
You cocked your head to the side in question. "What do you mean?"
She lifted her shoulders in a half-hearted shrug. "Y'know—like you have to confront him about meeting with Ellie. You can't keep this from him; I know you."
Yeah, she was right. It would eat at you if you let that guilt swirl in your stomach. Plus, all of those things Ellie had said to him… you hoped he was okay. Dear god, you hoped he was okay.
(But the question now, you supposed, was who would bring it up first?)
EPISODE EIGHT: EVERYBODY KNOWS THAT SHE'S THE BO-BO-BO-BOSS
FUNNY story: it took a week before you and Hyunjae could even have a proper conversation, in person.
With the quarter well underway, there was little to no time to stop and smell the flowers anymore. This had now become a race toward graduation, meaning that everyone was focused on their own problems. The “pranks” had dulled down, but they were, by no means, completely gone. There were always the occasional cord missing, or that dreaded creaking noise in the wings on late nights.
You’d grown used to it by this point, and so had your peers, luckily. The conversation between Ellie and Hyunjae sat in the back of your mind at all times. You always knew it was there, but you had so many things to worry about. Act two was just about wrapping up though, and so, play progress was chugging along well on schedule.
You really did have nothing to worry about—maybe it had all been jitters. Maybe it would all just finally go smoothly.
Friday night rehearsal was a little slower tonight since everyone had been here since noon. You’d all practically spent the entire day together, having lunch first, then diving into proper rehearsal. It had been a rehearsal full of laughs and a good time, and by the time Hyunjae stepped foot into the performing arts hall, you felt that you could take on anything. Even the conversation that needed to take place.
“Hey, you said you wanted to talk to me about something?” He said as the two of you stepped into the privacy of the sound booth, the tails of laughter still lingering in the air from the scene he had come into. You were currently rehearsing the directions of the first scene of act three, where Younghoon’s character was going through a full-on “groom-zilla” mode while Eunwoo’s character couldn’t stop talking about Sana’s character. It had been a full one-eighty character swap between the two friends.
You licked your lips, trying to press your smile down a little. “Oh, yeah. I was taking a walk, like, a week ago—and I saw you and Ellie talking.” You figured it would be better to just air it out right away; there was no need to beat around the bush. You lowered yourself onto the edge of one of the tables inside the booth, the air turning stuffy from the insulation inside the box. Crossing your arms loosely over your front, you watched as Hyunjae’s mood shifted, his body shuffling as he sought a comfortable position against the wall by the door.
Hyunjae cleared his throat, head ducking as his hand cupped the back of his neck. “Oh, really? You saw that?”
“I heard what she said to you—”
His head whipped up at that.
“—and I can’t believe she said that,” you said, those dagger-sharp words echoing in your mind from what Ellie had said to him about his own character. “Are you… are you okay?”
Hyunjae’s eyes widened a millimeter. “Am—am I okay?” He stammered.
“Yeah, I mean, she said that you were awful and it was…” You shook your head with a haggard sigh. “I’m sorry she said all that to you.”
“Thanks,” he exhaled, peering over at you through his eyelashes. He looked so small for once. “I—” He huffed air out from his nostrils, leaning his head back against the wall as he struggled to find the words he wanted to say. “Is that all you heard though?”
No, I also heard her insist you ask me what the play is about. You blinked, your own voice seemingly trapped in your throat. Why couldn’t you just own up to it?
But he must have taken your silence as you saying that you hadn’t heard anything else, so he gathered his wits to ask you, “Yn, what’s the play really about?”
The breath left your lungs. “You know what it’s about, Jae. You were there while I wrote it.” Please don’t make me say it. Please don’t make me say it. Because a part of you knew that if he pushed, you would give. You would tell him because… how could you not? If he wanted you to be honest with him, then… oh god, would you really? Would you risk this little secret of yours and ruin a friendship? Either way—it could go either way.
His tongue darted out for a moment as he carded a hand through his hair; he took a couple steps toward you. “I know, Yn. But—Ellie kept on insisting that I ask you what the real idea behind the play is. And she—and she,” he laughed, the sound disbelieving, “she said that you stole the idea from her, which is crazy! I know it’s crazy, because I watched you labor over this thing for months.”
She what? All thoughts except for one left your brain at that moment: why in the world would Ellie tell Hyunjae that you stole the idea for Jasmine from her? You didn’t remember ever seeing this kind of work from her before. “I didn’t steal anything from her.”
“I know,” he replied again, placating you. He now stood right in front of you, but your eyes raced back and forth about a mile a minute as you mentally went through the things you remember ever writing with her. You couldn’t remember; you couldn’t think. Why would she say that? “So I just wanted to ask,” he said slowly, his words drawn out as he leaned down slightly so you would look him in the eyes, “what is the play really about? The real meaning.”
There were pros and cons to telling him. On the one hand, you could spew the same surface-level bullshit that you usually did, but you had a feeling that one wouldn’t work this time. On the other hand, you could tell him—the truth. That was the worst pill to swallow. It could end in utter catastrophe or it could end in your wildest dreams. But what if, when he didn’t feel the same about you, had to let you down easy and your friendship would never be the same ever again? You couldn’t bear losing him, you just couldn’t. You loved Hyunjae…
“Yn, you’re scaring me,” he said with an anxious laugh.
You met his eyes then. “You don’t trust me?” You blurted before you could stop yourself. Those words, that tone… it sounded to you like he really was starting to believe what Ellie told him.
Something flashed across his face, and he was racing to defend himself. “What? No, of course I trust you. I just—I just want to know what the real meaning behind the play was about; that’s all!” And if you can’t tell me, then what else am I supposed to believe? “Yn, come on, honey—please—”
“It’s about you.”
All breath left him. You saw the way one hundred and one emotions flickered through his eyes; all of thoughts racing about at once as he tried to comprehend. “What? I don’t—I don’t understand.”
You balled your hands into fists in front of you as the frustration suddenly bubbled to the surface. “I wrote it about us, Hyunjae,” you told him. “Alex is based on you, Kai is based on me. I’ve been in love with you since junior year of high school, and that is what the true premise of the play is about.” Your hands were shaking now, gesturing between the two of you in stiff, constrained motions like the feeling of your chest’s range of movements at this time.
You watched it dawn on him, watched him swallow—hard. “Yn, I’m sorry—”
“Jaehyun.”
He shut up immediately.
You pressed your fingers to the space between your eyes. For a second, you swore you could feel tears tickle the insides of your eyes, and you blinked them away, inhaling deeply to get your body to calm the fuck down. Why were you crying? There was no reason to be crying right now. “Can you—” you stumbled over your words for once, “—can you give me some space. I can’t… I can’t think.”
He obliged you, backing up a few steps, and you said fuck it. “Hyunjae, I need space. Please.”
You thought you saw hurt flash across his face, but you just wanted to be out of his eyesight. You couldn’t bear to feel those soft, sympathetic eyes on you. You couldn’t bear the weight of his “I’m sorry I don’t feel the same” right now.
“Okay,” he said, though barely audible.
It took a minute, but he left and you were finally able to suck in a large gulp of air. You strode out of the sound box and realized that everyone on stage was either looking your way, or had quickly turned their heads to pretend they hadn’t just seen that silent argument take place through the sound box window.
Your face and neck were on fire, but you swallowed your pride and returned to your rightful place in the middle aisles of the floor seats. You picked up your script from where you’d abandoned it by your bag. “Right,” you said, your voice shaky until you cleared your throat. (Your hands were definitely still a bit wobbly, but that wasn’t your greatest concern right now.) “Where were we? Scene one, right?”
Everyone slowly began making their way back to their original positions, but Younghoon walked up to the bottom stage and lowered his voice to say, “Yn, we can take a break if you need one. Take five, then reconvene.”
He probably knew what just went down in the sound box. Yet, you found yourself shaking your head. “No, it’s fine,” you assured him, un-reassuringly. “I can do this, Hoon.”
He frowned at you then—those damn, soulful eyes—but nodded, respecting your decision. Like everyone else, he returned to the original position his character was in at the top of the scene.
I’m sorry, his voice seemed to echo in your ears. A part of you ached at the thought of that stark hurt on his face, but you were hurting, too. Why would you send him away like that?
You blinked, your head clearing. “Okay, everyone. Let’s see it.”
— ✶
A few hours later, you finally had everyone wrap up for the night.
“Thanks for all your hard work today!” You exclaimed as the actors and techies began swarming the stage to put props away. You climbed up to the stage, too, jumping onto one of the backdrops that Younghoon was wheeling backstage to help him direct it through the heavy folds of the backdrop curtain.
Younghoon shot you a smile from the other side of the prop. “Well, Miss Director, nice work today.”
You returned the expression wholeheartedly. “Thanks, man. The same goes to you; I appreciate all your hard work today. And that idea for the wedding sequence was absolutely brilliant.”
He chuckled at that, and the two of you worked together to slot the prop onto the cart with the rest of the ones that were just like it. A couple of stagehands then moved the assembly line along and rolled the cart down the hall to lock up in one of the dressing rooms. “I like to think I’ve been to enough weddings at this point to know how to spice them up.”
“Ah, that’s right,” you mused along with him as the two of you began walking down the backstage corridor to where you knew his partner was hard at work with that miraculous fountain. “I remember something about yours and YH!Yn’s first proper outing being to your cousin’s wedding?”
Younghoon threw his head back with a hearty chuckle at that. “Your memory serves you correctly then,” he confirmed. “Well, it wasn’t our first proper outing together. Technically, we met at an outing—”
“What do you think they were arguing about? It looked like they broke up or something.”
The line caught you off guard, and your footsteps faltered. Younghoon gave you a confused look, eyebrow arched. Your ears strained to eavesdrop on the conversation happening in one of the open dressing rooms you just passed by.
“No way that they were dating! … okay, I guess that would make sense why she put up with him all the time,” a second voice scoffed. “Maybe she finally got tired of his bullshit and cut him off.”
“That would make sense as to why he got out of the theater so fast. I went to their high school, and even after Hyunjae left, the year above me still talked about him—”
Your hand slammed against the doorframe of the dressing room, effectively making the two stagehands inside jump in surprise. They gaped at you with wide eyes, lips parted in shock as you addressed them with a carefully-made blank expression. “Let’s not go sticking our noses where they aren’t appreciated, yeah? Worry about yourselves, thanks.”
The two bowed their heads, apologies crawling from their mouths, and you turned back into the hallway where Younghoon was waiting for you.
You resumed your walk down the hall, and your friend casted you a side-long glance. “Thanks for standing up for him like you do,” he said to you. “I don’t know what happened today, but…”
“It doesn’t matter what happened today,” you said to Younghoon with a small exhale. You gave him a smile, even though you knew it wasn’t convincing. “I’ll always stand up for him.”
“Even when he doesn’t deserve it?” Younghoon joked with a laugh.
Your smile curled a little wider. “Even when he doesn’t deserve it.” In reality, you knew that he deserved to have someone stand up for him. Whether that be you, or Younghoon, or even Jihoon—you knew that everyone deserved to have someone watch their back when they weren’t around. You might have pushed him away earlier this evening, but that would never stop you from continuing to protect him. It was simple, really; you loved him.
EPISODE NINE: ARE DRAMA MAJORS ALWAYS SO DRAMATIC? WAIT, DON’T ANSWER THAT.
“I don’t understand why we couldn’t have done this in the grocery store like you guys always do,” Hyunjae grumbled as sounds of livelihood raged all around him: pots and pans clanged to the sizzle of food on the stove, the TV played some random American murder mystery show on low volume, and Hyunjae was sandwiched in between two others on his and Younghoon’s apartment couch.
Chanhee, who sat on the other side of Juyeon (who was on one side of Hyunjae), snorted. His nose was in his phone as he scrolled through Instagram, but didn’t look up as he replied, “As if we’d let you into Grocery Aisle Therapy. That’s exclusive admission.”
“That’s true,” Jacob chimed in from Hyunjae’s other side, as the man spooned a generous helping of Frosted Flakes into his mouth, “I tried.”
“And if even Jacob was denied entry,” Sangyeon mused from the kitchen as he turned off the stove and hood range, carrying over a bowl of the fried rice he had made for himself. Haknyeon skipped behind him with his own bowl and his cheeks were already full of the delicious food. Eric and Sunwoo were swift to follow their friend’s lead and raced into the kitchen to get a helping for themselves.
Changmin made a face from where he sat on the floor below Chanhee and Younghoon. “Not for lack of trying. You should’ve seen JC!Yn try to resist his goo-goo eyes. Bleh,” he gagged.
“I admire her tenacity then,” Hyunjae sniffed. “Not everyone can resist Jacob.”
Jacob beamed.
Kevin narrowed his eyes at Changmin. He sat just a few spaces away from the glasses-wearing menace, but carefully cross-legged and cradling a bowl of popcorn in his hands. “You say that when you literally pined after your girlfriend like an angsty teenager for three years.” He feigned a face of contemplation, then added, “Oh wait, you actually are an angsty teen—aye! Dad, Changmin hit me!”
“I am so sick of this family,” Sangyeon mumbled under his breath as he collapsed into the armchair adjacent to the sofa-sectional everyone else flocked upon. “Enough, both of you. Why were we all called here, again?”
Eric slid back into the living room on the polished wood floors in his socks, then perched atop the arm of Sangyeon’s armchair as he feasted upon his bowl of fried rice. He carefully lowered each spoonful of rice into his mouth so he wouldn’t dirty the fluffy cardigan he now wore. "Hyung's in trouble with his lady lover."
“Lady lover?” Sunwoo echoed with his face scrunched up like he just ate something sour. He had taken the spot between Kevin and Changmin to hopefully stop one from kicking the other again (hopefully).
"You're so judgmental."
"And you're—"
Sangyeon massaged the migraine pulsing in his temples away furiously with a clear grimace. "Shush, children. What did you do this time, Hyunjae?"
Hyunjae's jaw dropped, an image akin to one particular Pikachu meme. "Why am I immediately assumed to be the one at fault?"
"You summoned us all here," Haknyeon said with a shrug. "And Younghoon hyung said that it looked like you and Yn-ie suffered a break up in front of the entire main cast of Jasmine."
Hyunjae threw a displeased glance Younghoon's way; the tall man grinned sheepishly as if saying "what was I supposed to do—lie?" Hyunjae stared down at his lap, fidgeting with his fingers and the watch on his wrist. "It wasn't a break up…"
Kevin made a disapproving noise. "Oh, we know."
Hyunjae glared down at the top of Kevin's head. "Rude."
"Okay, so explain what happened," Juyeon prompted.
The man in question sucked in a breath. Where to begin? Someone muted the TV, so Hyunjae and Younghoon's apartment descended into a coat of silence. Everyone waited for Hyunjae's response.
Hyunjae decided that there was only one logical way to start. He began when he first received a text message from the elusive 'Ellie', your supposed best friend before him. He couldn't believe you had a soulmate other than him, but it only mattered that you two had found each other—not that that mattered—
He went through the entire spiel: Ellie had texted him about some project they worked on together in senior year of high school. He hadn't known why she would even care about something dumb they'd done in high school especially when she was a fourth year in college like the rest of you. But she had asked politely and he wasn't one to just dismiss someone when it was a simple, innocent request. However, when he had finished with this little task, he should have stopped there.
Their conversations eventually escalated from innocent "oh, you remember when…" to "if we meet, you have to agree to hear my side of the argument." He remembered her exact words: "You'll be very shocked to hear the truth" regarding your business with the play. He wanted to look out for you like you always did for him (and screw it, he was curious), so he obliged Ellie and met with her.
That had been one of many mistakes he made. The biggest mistake was what went down at the theater a couple of days ago. And now? He had just made you confess to him, he had broken your trust, and he didn't know how he was going to make it up to you.
(He had to admit though, that once he finally got space to think about what you said to him, there was something about the prospect of you being in love with him that gave his heart a lively kick-start—)
Chanhee reached over Juyeon's head and swatted Hyunjae's neck like there was a very large mosquito there. "You dumbass!"
Hyunjae yelped, his hand reaching up to rub the aching place furiously. "Ow!"
"Deserved," Kevin sang as he tossed a handful of popcorn into his mouth. "That was super not cool, man."
"You don't think I know that?" He rolled his eyes.
"Yes," everyone chorused together.
Cue his next set of eye rolls.
"Hyung," said Sunwoo as he shifted so he faced Hyunjae. His eyes squinted up at him, his curly bangs falling into his pupils as they usually did. "How could you not see that she was in love with you? You have to be blinder than a bat."
"You've been hanging out with SW!Yn too much," Changmin teased.
"Hey, don't bring her into this and taint her good name! Even she saw how perfectly enraptured Yn-ie is."
Changmin opened his mouth to make another unnecessary comment, but Sunwoo slapped a palm over his friend's mouth.
"I guess that leaves one question," said Juyeon, finally, after a long stretch of his silence.
"And what's that, Juyeonie?" Sangyeon asked.
Juyeon pursed his lips together in a slight pout. "What else? Are you in love with Yn, too, Hyunjae?"
Oh—
Hyunjae's thoughts careened to a stop when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He maneuvered around on the couch cushion to retrieve the device, his heart pounding in anticipation—but that emotion was immediately swapped out with utter disdain.
His friends observed this flip with great interest. "Who—"
An indignant spark lit Hyunjae's dark irises as he furiously typed something to the sender and promptly blocked the number.
Jacob and Juyeon, who were able to peer over at Hyunjae's phone screen, both widened their eyes in scandal. Jacob grinned, lifting his hand to delicately hide his snickers. "Well that answers our question."
Hyunjae sulked, swiping through his contacts, then blocking Ellie's number, too. He should have done that so damn long ago.
"It was some guy asking if he knew if Yn was free in two weeks—"
"And she's not," Hyunjae grunted, shoving his phone back into his pocket, then standing up to go get Sangyeon's fried rice in the kitchen. "These fucking guys, man. Like, what the fuck am I gonna do? Hype you up to her? No way in hell—" He scoffed, slapping a spatula of rice into his bowl with a strength that the bowl, rice, and utensil didn't deserve.
He couldn't believe that one stupid, little thing the two of you had done in freshman year of college had led to this spam of dudes flooding his inbox for you. If he had half a mind, he would declare that you weren't on the market anymore and that you weren't even interested in seeing any… body…
The thought marinated in his head for a moment as he slowly chewed the fried rice. Why did he want you "off the market"? You were his best friend, but you weren't his to covet or shield or speak for. You weren't his.
You weren't… his.
"Oh my god, you can actually see the neurons firing in his brain for once."
Hyunjae plopped himself back into his original place on the couch. "I hate you guys."
"So you've realized that you're in love with her?" Younghoon asked exasperatedly, his hands splayed out on his legs like he was begging to the cosmos.
Hyunjae made a face and pretended that his heart wasn't palpitating and that a drop of sweat wasn't dripping down the back of his neck right now. "What? Of course not," he said through a mouthful of fried rice.
One could hear the collective exhale of disappointment all the way to your townhouse.
— ✶
It was Thursday evening when you found yourself walking out of the performing arts hall after yet another rehearsal, and coming face to face with the person who had become one of your greatest problems over the past month.
Your hand stopped in midair from which you were brushing the hair out of your face when you and a young woman made eye contact. She was seated on one of the benches facing the entryway of the performing arts hall, her attention lifting away from her phone and to you. The sky remained alight and streaked in its dazzling sunset colors, and yet, the sight of her made everything feel grayed.
She smiled at you. "Ah, you're done."
Something crawled beneath the surface of your skin. For a second, you thought it was disgust, but upon further thought, it was really something bittersweet. You swallowed, adjusting your hold on your bag strap. "Can I help you?"
"Do you remember me, Yn?"
"Of course, I do, Ellie." How could I forget you?
Ellie's smile shuddered and you suddenly couldn't read her face. It was strange seeing her four years into the future. You remembered catching glimpses of her in the hallways, her sweet smile and button nose, the freckles sprinkled across her cheekbones like kisses from the sun. "I guess that's one thing out of the way."
Her biting words to Hyunjae appeared in the forefront of your mind. "What you said to Hyunjae—"
"Was true," she cut in. "And based on the fact that he blocked me a few days ago, I'm guessing that something happened between you two." Her lips curled upward, "How does it feel to know he actually doubted you? If I'm being honest, it makes me fucking sing, Yn!" There was a shiver-inducing giddiness to her voice and you wondered if this was all a joke. It would be a cruel joke, but anything would be better than this.
Could she see the horror on your face? "Ellie, we were friends," you managed to say.
She pressed her lips together. "We were friends until you decided that we weren't."
"What are you talking about?" You threw back at her. "We drifted apart—"
"You abandoned me," she quipped. The smile was gone now, her mouth set into a taut line. "You left me to rot."
Your heart dropped into your stomach. About a million things flashed through your mind, but most of all, you came to a very fast epiphany: you'd always thought she was happy. "Ellie," you said, slowly, softly, "I'm sorry that you felt that way. Really, I am so sorry."
"I've made sure you feel that way."
"But you should have left Hyunjae out of this."
Ellie laughed and the sound was harsh. "This isn't about your stupid best friend, or whatever. This is about you and me. I can't believe you thought—how could you prefer him over me? Why did you stop talking to me, Yn?"
You were so confused. All this time, you had thought that yours and Ellie's friendship ended on a mutually neutral ground. You thought that you had just drifted away from one another from the eventuality of time. Was that not how she saw it this entire time?
The end of Ellie's question took on a raspy undertone, the gleam in her eyes less so that of anger, but the melancholy underneath. You wanted to make things right, but you didn't know what that was.
When you had yet to say anything except for letting the breeze waft past your face, she let out a scoff. It was a somewhat embarrassed sound, her eyes skittish. "You know that my parents always compared me to you. Constantly. You remember what you said to me?"
You swallowed. "'They can compare all they want, but you'll always be enough for me.'"
"I didn't want to bother you when we 'drifted apart', as you say," she continued on with a huff. "And then I saw you and Hyunjae, and the way you looked at him—god, I knew right away, Yn. And I was so bitter. Just so, so bitter." She shook her head. "I've been thinking about this for a long time."
Dear god, you hadn't known this whole time. You'd wished you had known. You didn't know what you might have done differently—maybe not have been so blind—but… what if you couldn't have saved that friendship? Was this always meant to happen in the grand scheme of the universe's stage?
You made your way toward her and she simply watched as you stopped a handful of paces away from her. “I didn’t mean to drift away from you or to make you feel like I was replacing you in any way.” For a moment, you were quiet, and you inhaled a deep breath to query, "What made you suddenly want to confront me after so long then?"
She peered up at you, a mixture of sadness and something sharper in the reflection of her irises. "You didn't have to keep getting better and showing off. I just got sick of living in your shadow when you weren't even there."
You bristled at that. “What else could I have done? I’m sorry you felt that way, really, but I had a lot of pressure on my shoulders, too. I wanted them to stop expecting more from me, but each time I did something right, they kept pushing for more. And I—”
“I just wanted my friend back!” She exclaimed.
The words died on your tongue, dissipating in the tense air between you two. The fight left you then, seeing the hard break in her expression, a sliver of the girl you remembered from so long ago. What happened to her? She’d been poisoned by whatever feelings were locked inside her, and you supposed that it was only inevitable that those same feelings would one day be unleashed. You wished she didn’t have to confront you this way. "So you thought lying to Hyunjae would have done the trick?" You finally murmured.
"You didn't figure out who's been messing around with your production all quarter?"
The question caught you off guard, but you were quick to catch on nonetheless. Your breath hitched as you stood there, stunned. "That was you?"
A nod.
"All of it?" Disbelief struck you clean across the face and you felt like you'd just been slapped. A new level of anger boiled in your blood; all of those nights you spent creeped out of your mind, the extra stress from all the superstitious bullshit—
"This is our last act," she said, her tongue darting out for a moment. "I don't want anything else from you after this."
You couldn’t believe she would go through all of this trouble—all for what? All to prove what? It was utterly childish, preposterous, dramatic. “Good,” you asserted, as firmly as you could muster, “I don’t want anything from you either.”
And there was a split-second where you saw a crack in her expression, truly. Before, when you’d seen that bit of melancholy seep through, it must have been purposeful. Perhaps it was to draw some kind of sympathy or guilt from you, but after she admitted to doing all of that crap to you and your peers, you weren’t about to lean into that, old friend be damned. Of course you felt bad that she had felt like that for so long. You pitied her. But it didn’t mean you had to forgive her; not for this.
Maybe this was it though: all she wanted from you was for you to feel as helpless as she had, but you simply couldn’t feel that way. All that you could feel was cold fury.
“Fine,” she cleared her throat, straightening. “I hope you learned your lesson.”
You let out a scoff, the sound making her eyelids shudder. Your teeth grated against each other as you closed yours and her “final act”: “And I hope you’ve learned yours. I hope I never see you again.”
You turned brusquely on your heel to walk away before you did anything rash. But a sudden thought appeared on the tip of your tongue, and you found yourself stopping. When you glanced back at her, she was watching you leave with an emotion you couldn’t quite detect. The two of you had been such good friends, and… you really wished you could understand her position better. “I just don’t understand why you went through all this trouble. If you had just—texted me, called me—” You made a gesture with your hand then let the limb fall limply to your side, “You could’ve just said hi.”
You left her behind after that, purposefully this time. Did people like Ellie deserve their chance at redemption? Maybe when the dust had settled, but for now, you hoped she received her due karma.
EPISODE TEN: GOOGLE, DEFINE DRAMATIC IRONY.
THEY said that a terrible dress rehearsal marked a production for a brilliant opening night. As Michael, the wine salesman dude, forgot his fifth line of the rehearsal; as the tech staff in the box forgot their second lighting cue of the night; and as Hongjoong continued to have to fuss over San’s Uncle™ beard for the third time, you were trying very hard to keep that saying in mind.
Weeks had passed—you didn’t know how many, maybe five, maybe two, maybe an entire year—but that entire time, you didn’t feel Ellie’s presence haunting you anymore, nor had you heard from Hyunjae yet. He was busy with his architectural capstone project, anyway, and you felt that you both needed to take this time to yourselves to focus on more important things. (You thought this as if your friendship with him didn’t mean the absolute fucking world, but you were pretty sure you were seconds away from setting this building on fire so—)
The dreaded Tech Week had descended upon the cast and crew of Jasmine. Not only that, but it was also Finals Week, meaning everyone in this room was just as stressed out as they usually were, except, five times more. It made for a great rehearsal, clearly.
“—remember that as soon as she says ‘fine!’, you have to be out here to pull the rug out from beneath her feet,” you instructed the stagehand, who looked a millisecond away from passing out right there on the stage.
When they nodded their understanding, you turned away with a migraine pounding away at your temples. You just had to get through one more act, and you could call it a night. Opening night was literally in four days, and you were trying not to yearn after your best friend and feel guilty about pushing him away—and then there was the guilt that had slowly bubbled up over the past few weeks from what happened with Ellie. Maybe it had been all your fault—
“Yn, your eye is twitching.”
“Huh?” You perked up from where you were seemingly glaring a hole in the ground of the nosebleeds. Younghoon shot you an amused, yet mildly concerned look from within the winds of the stage. “Oh, sorry. Can we take it from the top of act three, please? One more act, people; let’s hang in there.”
That latter bit was more for you.
By the end of rehearsal, everyone was just as happy as you were to head home. Today was Monday, the beginning of the week, and yet you wished it was Saturday already—graduation. Now that was the light at the end of the tunnel.
Younghoon held the door open for you as the two of you exited out the front doors of the performing arts hall. When you murmured a thank you to him, he fell into step with you easily. The walk to the bus station seemed impossibly long with the ache in your legs.
Younghoon released a low-sounding whistle. “So…”
“Hm?”
“Are you coming to Cobie’s surprise birthday party tomorrow? I know it’s finals week and tech week, but it’d be nice to have that little break beforehand.”
Oh, right. Hyunjae’s friend Jacob was having his birthday party—well, it wasn’t him who was hosting, but his girlfriend. She had organized all of it, and had even had the good will to extend an invitation to you. At the time, you couldn’t find it in you to say no, despite the knowledge of your busy month at the forefront of your mind. But even now, you found it hard to really formulate a concrete response. The uneasiness was creeping up on you again.
“I dunno, Hoon…” you said lowly with a wince. “Maybe I should just catch up on sleep, y’know? And plus, I don’t want my feelings for Hyunjae to ruin the mood or anything. I’m kind of a Debby Downer right now,” you laughed pitifully.
Younghoon’s mouth curved into a frown. “Yn, you’re not a downer. You’re stressed and you have a lot of burden on your shoulders, but… I think something carefree will be good for you, no? Maybe you should at least stop by and say hello to people—take advantage of Hyunjae having to be in charge of providing free booze for everyone.”
You glanced up at him, meeting his kind eyes. “I’ll think about it,” you promised. You were probably too tired to think logically about going anywhere else but your bed at this moment.
Younghoon nodded. “Okay.”
As the two of you carried on down the stairs now, the bus stop in sight, you gathered your wits about you. “How is… how is he, by the way?” You asked.
Younghoon peered at you with something akin to gentleness and sympathy. “He’s… I think he’s okay.” He squinted one eye as he looked up toward the night sky, the thoughts meandering about his head. “You just have to give him some time. You know how stubborn he is,” he joked.
You could only give a shallow nod at that.
Not one to let a friend leave him so upset, he nudged you with the back of his hand. “Hey, don’t worry too much about him, okay? You have a lot on your plate right now, and you deserve to have your head in the game, okay? It’s all gonna be okay.”
“You always have such a way with words,” you laughed lightly as you wiped a tear from your eye—whether it was from emotions or just being plain exhausted, you couldn’t tell.
He smiled again then. “If I wrote down these words, I’d be stealing your job, Miss Director.”
Your laugh was a little brighter at that note. “Okay, Actor Extraordinaire. We’ll see about that.”
The two of you shared a laugh, and when you reached the bus stop, Younghoon waited until the bus came by to pick you up. It wasn’t yet deep night, but he was a gentleman all the same. You climbed up into the bus, scanning your transportation card as you went, then sat by a window to wave to Younghoon.
When the bus pulled away from the curb and away into the night, Younghoon pulled out his phone to the text chain with his partner. He’d come to a decision then, and as hungry as he was, he figured he could channel this annoyance into confronting one certain man by the name of Lee Jaehyun.
younghoon’s phone: love, i think i’m going to be late for dinner
beloved mastermind: i’ll save u a seat <;3
— ✶
The lights beneath the swimming pool glowed an ethereal shade of fluorescent blue. It reminded Younghoon of a mermaid's cove with the way the light waves reflected off the ceilings of the building to create scales on the rafters. The emptiness of the indoor swimming pool was offset by the thrashing of flesh against water as a lone swimmer stole lap after lap across the great blue.
Younghoon lowered himself onto a steel bleacher and watched Hyunjae bolt from one end of the pool to the next, hardly taking the time to breathe air, like he breathed chlorine and water instead. The familiarity of the smell—warm stone, pungent chemicals—sent flashes of Younghoon's own days on the high school swim team to his mind.
At last, Hyunjae took his final lap, his breathing coming out labored as he swept a hand up his face and through his hair. His locks slicked all the way back, and his chest rose and fell harshly as adrenaline pumped through his veins and his lungs fought to consume oxygen without asphyxiating on it.
Hyunjae clambered his elbows onto the deck. "How'd you—know I was here?" He managed to say, nodding his thanks as Younghoon handed him the water bottle at the other end of the bench from him where Hyunjae's duffle bag sat.
Younghoon gave a meager shoulder shrug. "I know you too well not to," he said. The two were both swimmers, and where else would swimmers go to put their head somewhere else and to escape the world?
Hyunjae couldn't argue with that.
The two friends were quiet for a minute as Younghoon let Hyunjae catch his breath. There was something troubling about seeing him so tense, even after pumping out so many laps. The exhaustion didn't seem to outweigh the conflict warring in his mind.
Finally— "Hyunjae-ah, what are you doing?"
Hyunjae blinked up at him, perplexed. "Huh?"
Younghoon leaned his cheek against his palm, elbow resting on top of his knee. He fixed him with a stare. "What are you doing?" He repeated.
This time, the message seemed to have been delivered successfully. Hyunjae licked his lips, his gaze averting away from Younghoon. "Did you come here just to scold me?"
"No, I came here to tell you you're being an angsty teen."
Hyunjae scowled, his lips pressed into a pout. "No, I'm not."
Younghoon rolled his eyes just as his stomach grumbled in protest at him not going straight to meet his partner for dinner. Instead, here he was, trying to talk sense to a wall. "You're so childish sometimes."
He quieted. Hyunjae leaned his head against the meat of his forearm, eyes fluttering closed against the warmth of the heated pool deck. "How is she?"
"She's not good, but she's also not bad," Younghoon replied. He sighed, leaning forward onto his forearms for a more comfortable confrontation position. His lips pulled into a line. "Stressed, of course, but I think that was a given."
Hyunjae rubbed his eyes. "I fucked up, Younghoon."
A solemn nod. "I'm glad you see it now."
"This isn't a joke."
"I'm not saying it's a joke."
Hyunjae squinted at him. "Sometimes I don't believe you."
Younghoon smiled cheekily. "Well, sometimes you have to pick who and what to believe."
That hit a nerve, even if Younghoon didn't mean it to. Hyunjae immediately thought of yours and his last conversation. He couldn't get the image out of his head of the look of betrayal on your face when you asked him if he didn't trust you. He'd been stupid to be so curious, but of course he trusted you. He'd always trusted you. Who else could he trust but the very person who always protected him and was by his side? So why did he have to go and be so stupid?
He backed away from the wall for a minute and simply stood in the middle of the shallow lane as if the water could give him wisdom. "I," he began, then sighed, "I miss her a lot. I've wanted to text her, to call her so many times." He smiled, but it wasn't a happy one. "I think I just don't know what I would say."
"An apology would be a good start," suggested Younghoon.
"Right…" That was obvious, and yet, it was always the most difficult step. Would you let him come back into your life after a reveal like that? Feelings were such fragile, fickle things.
His heart sank at the idea of losing you forever though.
One day, she'll drop you, too, those damned words replayed over and over in his head like a broken record. —When she finds someone better… I don't know why she went to you, though. You are awful. I've heard all the stories.
Once upon a time, Hyunjae hadn't always been "awful" or dogged down by other people's negative testimonials about his attitude. So what if he had been "scorned by love" as you so lovingly put it one time? That experience had been enough for him to shut down all access points, keeping you sheltered in with him. It was hard for him to think of wanting to be with anyone else… but you.
He didn't mean to latch onto you so tight, but perhaps he had grown so dependent on you all this time. You had never given him reason to doubt how much you cared—god, why had he been so stupid?
Younghoon watched Hyunjae's inner conflict through the windows to his soul, glowing with the cerulean blue of the chemically altered pool water. "Hyunjae, do you love her?"
Of course he loved you. That was out of the question. But this was a different type of love that Younghoon was referring to, and it called for something much larger in the grand scheme of things.
That kind of love—what a frightening prospect, he thought. But didn't you make everything so much less frightening?
EPISODE ELEVEN: PLACES, EVERYONE!
"YOU stole my boyfriend, by the way." Hyunjae huffed as he set down the last two grocery bags he had helped bring up to the apartment from Juyeon's car.
JC!Yn barely batted an eyelash at him as she swept past to organize the utensils and cups set out on the breakfast table. “You snooze, you lose, Lee,” she teased with a sing-song tone.
From the front door, Sangyeon bumbled in with a clean, crisp white box, as he whistled a happy tune under his breath. JC!Yn greeted him at the entryway, thanking him profusely for picking up the cake, then taking the box from him so she could transfer it to the fridge for safe keeping.
“Chanhee says that he’s bringing his best friend, so he wants everyone to—I quote—‘not be embarrassing’,” Changmin snorted and giggled loudly from the couch where he relayed the information from his texts with Chanhee.
“That’ll be difficult for you,” CM!Yn quipped back so fast that Hyunjae couldn’t even suppress the high-pitched laugh he let out. Not that he wanted to suppress it; he had to admit that Changmin’s girlfriend was just as much a menace as her boyfriend was.
As Changmin’s jaw dropped and he pounced on top of her to tickle her into submission, Hyunjae averted his gaze elsewhere. He pulled his phone out, leaning against the granite kitchen countertop while he read Younghoon’s latest text notifications.
bread face: we’ll be there soon
bread face: i think i saw kevin and jacob a few cars behind us at the intersection, so i’m making haknyeon step on it
hyunjae’s phone: lol i was gonna chastise u about texting and driving hoon
bread face: tch pls, i’m better than that 🙄
bread face: i would at least make yh!yn do my texts for me 🤪
Hyunjae glanced up just in time to see JC!Yn’s front door open to reveal Chanhee and Eric, along with their plus ones. He tongued the inside of his cheek, thinking offhandedly at the fact that so many of his friends had found people to be with. It felt like they were all growing up far too fast; even as a fourth-year in university, it was unimaginable. Where would they all be in ten years? Where would he be?
He hoped, at the very least, that he might see you in his future—one way or another. As long as he could pull his shit together and finally talk to you.
hyunjae’s phone: almost everyone’s here btw r u guys close??
bread face: yeah, pulling up one block over so they don’t see hak’s car
bread face: hey, do yk if yn’s coming today?
Hyunjae’s thumbs hovered over the keyboard, then he typed in the clear answer: no, not a clue. I have a feeling she won’t be here though.
He tucked his phone away, looking over to see that JC!Yn’s roommate, Kei, had just stepped out of her room with a finished “Happy Birthday, Jacob” banner. “Hey, you need help with that?”
— ✶
The party was well under way, and suffice to say, the surprise party had been an entire success. Because Jacob was definitely not a fan of being jumpscared, it was good foresight that everyone was just in sight when he and Kevin opened the door. He had no clue that his partner had organized this for everyone and that everyone else was in on it. (Even Eric was able to keep the secret in the wraps, no doubt with the help of his significant other.) Almost all of his friends had brought along a plus-one, minus the singletons (himself, Juyeon, Kevin, and Sangyeon—though, that was still debatable) and Haknyeon and Sunwoo who’s significant others weren’t too close with the group just yet. It was a marvel that Younghoon’s girlfriend decided to come, too, but she said she would probably leave early anyway.
“You’re so sad-looking,” said Juyeon as he hopped onto the island counter next to Hyunjae. The two of them could scope out the whole apartment from this vantage point; the mood seemed to be at an all-time high, despite it being an incredibly stressful week for everyone.
Hyunjae made an indignant noise and he lifted his plastic cup of soda to his lips. “Pfft. I’m not sad-looking.”
Juyeon gave a meager shrug. “Every time you see someone and their partner, you look like your puppy just got taken.”
“That’s—” he stammered in protest, “—that’s not true. I—I just keep thinking about my arch capstone, that’s all! School is ruining my life.” The lie was so stark that even Hyunje winced to himself.
“Ah, well, I can relate to that,” his friend sighed. The two gazed out at the party, their ears perking up when they heard Sangyeon say something about him and Jacob needing to step outside for Jacob’s birthday gift—whatever that meant. Hyunjae and Juyeon exchanged strange looks with one another, before bursting into laughter.
Not even a few minutes had passed before Jacob and Sangyeon walked back into the apartment with everyone’s curiosity piqued. Jacob had on the best poker face that he could muster, his lips pressed together but a muscle in the corner of his mouth twitching upward like he was either trying not to laugh or smile.
“Well?” Kevin was the first to voice. He, along with everyone else over at the couch, leaned over the back of the furniture, their eyes wide like dogs waiting for a treat. Hyunjae and Juyeon probably looked similar from their perches.
“He asked for proof of my girlfriend,” Sangyeon said as he closed the front door behind him.
Hyunjae snorted, catching a slight glare from the eldest in the room. For however long, their friend group had an ongoing inside joke that Sangyeon pretended to have a “secret girlfriend.” It was only because Sangyeon had never once provided concrete proof, and maybe it was because he purposefully withheld it, but Hyunjae simply couldn’t understand why. Thus, the hilarious teasing of their eldest friend. Nonetheless, Hyunjae and everyone else remained curious as to the truth.
“Well then?” Juyeon pressed, “What’s the verdict, Cobie?”
The smile on his face really couldn’t be suppressed anymore, and it looked so close to a smirk. Jacob grinned, strolling over to the couch to resume his place between his best friend and girlfriend. “No comment.”
The room erupted into a loud groan from seemingly everyone. “What kind of answer—”
Even Sangyeon looked frustrated and his eyebrows furrowed together, paired with a slight parting of his lips. “Birthday Boy has so much audacity today. Dude, I literally showed you—”
At the sound of the doorbell tone, everyone paused. Hyunjae hopped off the counter, chirping, “I’ll get it!”
No one was opposed to Hyunjae opening the door as everyone else engaged in a battle of wits commenting on Jacob's refusal to confirm nor deny the existence of a future Mrs. Lee Sangyeon. Hyunjae reached the front door and peered through the peephole curiously—then stiffened.
You stood on the other side, your hands fidgety as you played around with the little gift bag in your hands, no doubt for Jacob.
He could hardly believe his eyes—you actually came.
He opened the door without much else left to do. Your gazes clashed in the front threshold of JC!Yn's apartment, your breaths leaving your lungs at the sight of the other. Hyunjae swallowed; he hated this tension, hated the way he couldn't just wind his arms around you as easily as he had done before. The palpitations of his heart were teetering on dangerous territory, and he chalked it up to the fact that he was nervous he might be making you uncomfortable.
"Hey, come in," he murmured low but soft, stepping aside to give you space. He barely registered the background noise at this point.
"Thanks," you said back, your voice barely audible. You stepped out of your shoes and nudged them toward the massive pile by the shoe rack, like an ocean of footwear wherein one must play a matching game in order to leave. You coughed, "Uhm, is there a place where I can put this?" You lifted your gift bag half-heartedly.
"Oh, I can put it—" he automatically reached out for it, and when his fingers grazed against yours, the two of you jolted, "—away," he stammered. You let go of it so he could quickly grab hold and make his very awkward escape.
He dipped into JC!Yn's room where all the presents were being stashed, allowing himself to soak in a bit of quiet, even if he could still hear the muffled party just outside the room. That had to be the worst thing ever. Why was he so jumpy around you? It couldn't be that you professed your being in love with him, right? He wished it wasn't like this.
He needed to talk to you, damn it, he needed to fix this—
But when he emerged from the room and into the main living space, he saw you chatting with YH!Yn and Kevin and Changmin. He watched you smile at them and laugh and look way less awkward than you'd been with him just a minute ago. He remembered what this week was, what Friday was.
Opening night: the culmination of months' worth of blood, sweat, and tears.
He'd been there for you since the beginning of it. He couldn't see you fail, and this was the first time he'd seen you not stressed. He didn't have the heart to ruin that for you right now.
So instead of marching up to you and requesting an audience, he made his way over to a few of his other friends to join whatever conversation they were having. He would fix things when you didn't have five thousand other things to worry about. Today wasn't about him, after all.
EPISODE TWELVE: CALL TIME, BABY!
TONIGHT was the night. You thought you were going to throw up, to be honest, and you gently sipped on an iced caramel macchiato to keep your energy up. Perhaps the caffeine was making you just a little jittery, but it was probably the nerves—
"Yn!"
"Yeah, what's up?" You exclaimed, stopping in your tracks and just barely dodging the pair of stagehands hustling a backdrop past you.
Jihoon gestured wide with his arms. "Where are you going? Preshow's in seven minutes."
Oh, right. Your eyes widened in incredulity at your absentmindedness and practically jogged over to Jihoon and the other end of the corridor that led back toward backstage, instead of wherever the fuck you were off to… "Sorry," you muttered, waving vaguely to your head, "dunno what's up with me right now. Is everyone ready? Everything in place?"
He nodded, his eyes leaving you for a second while someone said something to him in his headset. "Ugh, shit. We can't find SW!Yn—ever since she got that boyfriend of hers—"
Your hands flapped between the two of you as you nodded your head vigorously—yeah, it was definitely the caffeine. "She's probably in the sound booth with Chan and the others. She's not that boy crazy."
Jihoon made an unconvinced expression, but bid you farewell nonetheless. He probably knew more than you did, but that was expected since you weren't exactly a long-term staff member working backstage. Jihoon ran a tight ship; there was no way anyone would risk a Jihoon stare by saying hi to their significant other.
You held your head in your hand and set your drink down on one of the stools by the edge of the room so it wouldn't get knocked over. Tonight was Opening Night—the night. Tonight, there was a full house, including your friends and family, everyone at school, and about a dozen or so industry experts. The latter weren't just here for you, but for your acting peers, as well. This was a critical night for everyone. It absolutely had to go right.
You shifted the headset on top of your head and made your way back down the corridor. You were far too antsy to just stay in one spot.
"—can one of you go check Jess's hair and makeup—no, don't just rip it, hon, that's not how it works!" You recognized that anguished cry anywhere, and you peered into the dressing room Hongjoong and a swarm of other busy people were.
"What's going on?" You asked.
Hongjoong's head whipped around so fast you were surprised he didn't get whiplash. "Yn, thank God! You know how to braid?"
"Jess still needs hair and makeup?"
"Yes, one of my people had to call out sick—thanks Yn-ie!" You were already on your way to find where Jess was before he had finished his sentence. You'd hardly even processed the fact that one of the costume staff had to call out sick—that wasn't your main concern right now—you literally had less than five minutes to locate Jess and yeet yourself backstage.
The sound in your headset sparked to life. "Sound to Yn, Yn to sound. Can you hear me?" Bang Chan's voice echoed into your ears.
You narrowly got beheaded by a portion of the wedding arch coming down the hallway. "Loud and clear; fuck, it's a mess back here, Chan." God, your head hurt and the play hadn't even begun yet.
"Hey, man. Take a little breath, okay? Yeah, there you go."
You sucked in a very large breath of air. The adrenaline was pumping through your veins and your hands suddenly felt very cold. "Hyunjae usually helped me through opening nights," you exhaled, your head swerving left and right as you checked each room for Jess's presence. "Where is she?"
"I know, Yn," he said gently. "You can do this though. I know you can. You've been waiting for this for four years—hell, even longer than that."
Your head bobbed up and down as if he could see you—oh shit, was that her you just saw?
"He's probably sitting in one of those velvet seats, absolutely pumped for you."
"Even though I completely fucked up our friendship?" You choked out, flagging Jess down. The poor girl looked frantic as she was trying to finish her stage makeup while also braiding her hair. There was no way she could do both, but you admired the attempt. You began to help her out with her hair as she used her phone as a mirror.
"I don't know what happened, Yn, but he loves you too much to not be here tonight."
It was suddenly very difficult to swallow.
"Preshow in two. Are you ready for this, Director Ln?"
You finished the braid, snapping the elastic with a crisp thwip. Tapping Jess to let her know she was good to go, you made an immediate reverse maneuver to backstage. You took a deep breath in once more—held it—
Get your head in the game. Chan was right—you'd been waiting for this for far too long, worked far too hard. You needed to put faith in your abilities and your peers. "Let's do this."
When you returned to the main backstage portion, you found techies ready to go, as well as your main cast. You caught Younghoon's eyes, silently asking for him to round up Eunwoo while you got Sana and Miyeon. Quickly, the five of you met in the middle.
"Everyone feeling okay?" You asked them, making eye contact with each and every one of them.
There was a buzz about the air, both nervous and excited. You could feel it in the way your hands shook, but you reminded yourself this was what you lived for. Someone, probably Chan, gave you the one minute warning.
"We're gonna do great out there," Younghoon affirmed.
"And when in doubt," Miyeon chimed in, "just improvise."
A small chuckle rang out, and you could hear the countdown in your ear. You had to go out on stage and greet everyone.
"Okay, I got my cue," you said to them. "Break a leg, everyone. Chins up, alright?"
"You too, Yn," Younghoon said to you with a pointed look.
A smile graced your face then, and something settled within your chest—finally—something like a calm. "I will."
— ✶
The only reason why Hyunjae knew how expensive flowers were was because he was well-versed in the nature of presenting you with them after each production you'd completed, whether that be through theater or film. It was all standard practice, and he couldn't believe Sunwoo had the audacity to argue with him and his girlfriend about when to send flowers backstage.
Flowers were to be withheld from reaching the actor, staff, or director until the end of the performance. It was just one of those other superstitious things.
So here he was, sitting shoulder to shoulder between Juyeon and a stranger, with a lap full of vibrant blooms in what he thought were the best seats in the house: the lower balcony seats. They were probably his favorite place to get a proper view of the stage while also not being as high as the top balcony and seeing the top of actors' heads. Maybe it was the child in him that liked anything concerning the balcony.
The play had been going strong for the entire run time. You had come out on stage at the very beginning to welcome everyone and thank them for coming tonight. All the relevant information about the play could be found in the playbills that were handed out at the door, and he had instinctively flipped through each page until he could confirm your name and Younghoon's were there. That had definitely brought a smile to his face.
But even now, as the play was coming to an end and the main characters ended up happy together, Hyunjae still couldn't get the smile off his face.
At curtain call, all the actors lined up on stage to take their bows. When you came out to gesture to your acting peers and take your own bow, everyone in Hyunjae's row, especially himself, stood to give you the standing ovation you deserved. Hyunjae's eyes watered as he whooped and cheered and whistled as loud as he could since the flowers made it difficult to clap.
As he and everyone else sat back into their seats, he had to sneak a hand up to delicately wipe his right eye.
"That's my best friend," he said to no one in particular, his laugh watery but proud.
The woman next to him heard him, though. "She's incredible."
Hyunjae smiled at her, then turned his head toward the stage again where you were corralling the main cast in a massive hug onstage. "I know; she's amazing." I love her.
— ✶
The entire performing arts hall was in a state of utter pandemonium. Both the auditorium and the backstage areas were swarmed with people trying to get out of the building, trying to find their friends, and a butt load of other things. You and all the cast members began helping backstage crew take everything down and lock them up; after all, they would need to be preserved for the next two performances of the show that would carry on through the first couple of weeks of summer. Opening Night was only the "presentation" of your thesis.
Tomorrow was Commencement Day—there were a great handful of you graduating literally tomorrow, including yourself, and so you'd all resolved to go home and save the celebration for another night.
As you wandered through the corridors and dressing rooms, you were sure to congratulate everyone for their hard work tonight. Your cheeks ached from smiling, pride singing through your blood, as well as the lingering adrenaline. But you couldn't deny that you were relieved that the night had gone, and gone well.
Friends and family members of the cast and crew began trickling into the backstage area, so the space to roam lessened considerably.
Unbeknownst to you, Hyunjae had rushed back here faster than his friends could stop him, antsy to finally congratulate you and let you know how proud he was and how great the play was. He craned his head over the sea of people, half his bouquet no doubt squished, but he was still determined.
There—he spotted the blazer you wore on stage—but you were all the way at the end of the corridor. There was no easy way through the people, and who knew if you would leave before he could get to you.
"Yn!" He hollered over all the noise.
Like clockwork, your head whipped around from the stagehand you were speaking animatedly with in search of who had called your name. You locked gazes with him, and there was a softening in your features.
(In a crowded room, all I'd see is y—)
His heart leapt and his legs jump-started into high gear, murmuring out sorries as he maneuvered his way toward you. There were tears pricking at his vision; he never cried for anything or anyone, but you'd been the only one to draw such emotion from him. You were the only one who deserved that emotion.
"Jae, you're here," you breathed out, but then somebody tapped your shoulder and nodded in the direction from which you came.
He saw the concern on your face, the sense of responsibility, and yet the reluctance, as well. "Call me when you're done," he said. He mustered a smile, pushing the flowers into your dumbfounded hands. "Promise to call me."
You managed to nod. "Yeah," you swallowed, "thanks for coming tonight."
"I wouldn't miss it for the world."
EPISODE THIRTEEN: ALL THE WORLD'S OUR STAGE
A couple of hours later, you'd managed to express your gratitude to nearly everyone and their mother for their work and help, as well as convince Jihyo to answer any calls that came in regarding the play tonight. It was a big ask and you had been reluctant to ask that of her, but you also knew you needed to talk to Hyunjae.
You made your way out the back door of the performing arts hall and into the warm, early Summer night. There weren’t too many people still around since the only handful of people left in the performing arts center were all older staff members and faculty. You spotted Hyunjae leaning against the wall by the staircase, his gaze lifting from his phone when he sensed you coming toward him. A small smile curled onto his lips, and you realized how much you missed the sight of it.
“Hey, sorry you had to wait for a while,” you said as you approached.
He tucked his hands into his pockets. “No, don’t worry about it. The play was—it was incredible, Yn. I’m really proud of you.”
Those words struck you even harder than you imagined him saying he loved you back would have. It meant a lot coming from other people, but it meant the most coming from him. “Thanks,” you rasped, the emotion shining through your voice, and you had to consciously reign yourself in. “I’m really sorry for what happened. I shouldn’t have pushed you away like that, and I know that my confession was kind of unexpected.”
“You shouldn’t have to apologize for that, Yn,” he said gently, his teeth biting down on his lower lip slightly. “I’m the sorry one. I mean, it was so stupid that I even entertained the idea of Ellie being remotely correct. It was a breach of trust and I crossed a boundary that I shouldn’t have. For that, I’m so sorry.”
You motioned to the path leading down the stairs and toward a path even you knew not where it would lead the two of you tonight. Hyunjae heard your silent suggestion, and the two of you began descending the stairs together, side by side. “Maybe I thought I wasn’t ready at that moment,” you confessed, “but maybe it was what needed to be said, you know?”
When you glanced over at him, you found that he was already looking back at you, clinging onto every word that came out of your mouth.
Your heart rate was still rocketing into the atmosphere right now, but you knew that it wasn’t from the play. “I think that I needed to say that—no matter if I was ‘ready’ or not. I don’t think I would have ever been ready, but…” Your foot hit the bottom step of the stairs, and you turned on the ball of your feet to face him, guiding the two of you down the path and away from your normal direction toward the bus station. “Before you say anything, just hear me out, okay?”
Hyunjae gave a nod, and your heart stuttered in your chest as you forged onward. “You don’t have to affirm my feelings if you don’t feel the same way,” you said, returning to your normal position at his side, “I think that was why I’ve been so afraid of telling you all this time—that you wouldn’t feel the same. That, and the fact that I was scared that telling you would absolutely wreck our friendship like it did these past few weeks.”
From beside you, Hyunjae managed to keep quiet, but his voice was also jammed inside his throat. It was filled up with all the things he’d wanted to say to you first, all the things that he wanted to say in response to what you were telling him now.
“Ellie confronted me the week after our fallout.” Hyunjae stiffened—had she done anything to you? “She told me that she was the one behind all the ‘pranks’ or whatever throughout the play rehearsals.”
“Yn, those weren’t pranks,” Hyunjae couldn’t help but cut in, “it was plain sabotage.”
Sabotage. You’d come to fear labeling her actions with that word, simply because you didn’t want to believe that that was her true intention. You struggled to swallow, stopping in the middle of the walkway. The two of you faced each other then, his eyebrows pressed together in shock and anger and every emotion in between. “She told me she did it to get back at me.”
“For what?”
“I abandoned her,” you told him. That emotion on his face shuddered like ripples in a pool of water. “It’s neither of your faults either, but I guess what I thought was drifting away from her and becoming closer to you, she saw in a more malicious light. And she said that she’d been sick of living in my shadow despite not even being in my life, and I’ve just been thinking about that for a while.” You said you’d be there for her, that she’d always be enough for you… how ironic that you’d been the one to drift away.
Hyunjae peered at you, a mess of things going through his head. You couldn’t imagine what he was thinking about right now, but you knew he was never the best at expressing his emotions and vulnerabilities.
It was okay, though. He didn’t have to say anything. “In that moment, I cut off all ties with her,” you clarified, “when she told me it was all her doing. Now, I just feel a little sad; I wished she would’ve just said hi to me.”
Hyunjae wet his lips, grasping your shoulders to get your attention. “You know you didn’t deserve any of that, right? All that shit she gave you? I mean, she pretty much terrorized you, Yn, and I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
You wondered—no, you knew—he was probably beating himself up inside for the argument the two of you had, too. The combined force of all of those tough conversations, as well as the pressure from the play… “I’m okay, Jae,” you reassured him. This time, you even believed what you said. “I’m shaken, no doubt, but it’s something that will pass with time.”
In this lighting, he was beautiful, ethereal. The amber streetlight casted a heavenly glow upon him, and made his eyes glimmer like the moon off a still body of water. You’d written something like that description somewhere in the original script, and you realized just how intimately you’d projected your reality into the lines of that production. Perhaps one day, you’d have the strength to point them all out to him.
A thought suddenly occurred to you in the silence, and your eyes widened to the size of saucers. “Oh my god.”
“What? What’s wrong—”
“I never got to see your finalized capstone project!” You gasped, your hands flying to your mouth in scandal. “Shit, the showcase for it was yesterday, wasn’t it? Oh shit, I’m awful—” For as supportive as Hyunjae had been with your final project, you had neglected to even think about his thesis these last weeks. Guilt coursed through your body in waves and you wanted to screech—
“Hey, honey,” he chuckled good-naturedly, “it’s okay. You were busy; don’t sweat it.” He bit his lip again, but it did nothing to suppress the shit-eating grin on his face. “Wanna go see it now? I’m sure they haven’t cleaned everything up yet.”
Your heart skipped for a new reason now. “You’re gonna break into the architecture building?” You laughed.
“It’s not breaking and entering if you have access,” he said in a “duh” tone, waving around his student ID.
As the two of you made a swift reverse back up the stairs from which you’d come from, you gaped at his ID card in disbelief. “I can’t believe they gave you clearance.”
He wrinkled his nose at you. “Why wouldn’t they grant their top student clearance on his last week?” He sniffed jokingly.
The pairing of dialogue and execution made a giggle sputter out of you, the sound making Hyunjae’s chest feel warm and fuzzy. He hated the tension that had wrapped itself around the bones of his ribcage, but those vines were slowly loosening and blooming into something familiar, and yet new.
The trek to the architecture building was well-worn by both you and him. You hadn’t been by the architecture building in awhile because of your busy schedule, but you used to always pop by to either walk him to lecture or to come visit him while he was working. The building was built in a Greco-Roman style with columns and arches, and beautifully carved marble murals and statues around the perimeter of the roof. You knew that the building style in particular was never Hyunjae’s taste, but you remembered when the two of you had toured the school in your senior year of high school, he had been awestruck nonetheless.
Just as he had said it would, his ID card slid against the panel outside the front doors to the architecture building and came up green.
The two of you, feeling just like you were kids again, giggled as you crept into the darkness of the foyer. Hyunjae grabbed your hand without thinking and dragged you down the right hallway toward one of the larger conference-style classrooms on the ground floor. He didn’t bother turning on any lights in case security came by and saw, but there was a conveniently-placed streetlight right outside the window anyway.
“There’s my masterpiece,” he said quietly, a sort of jitteriness coming through his voice.
You let go of his hand so you could inspect the model he constructed. The feature piece seemed to be the massive clear dome on the top, as well as the smaller, surrounding establishments. “It’s amazing, Jae. This is so cool.”
He almost looked shy as he leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest and watched you. “Ah, thanks. It’s, uh, a proposed model for a new performing arts department.”
Your head turned to him then. “No way.”
“Yes way,” he smiled. “I don’t know if it’ll get taken up by the board or not, but I gave them my whole spiel yesterday.”
“You’re gonna give me the spiel, too, right?”
Hyunjae made a face, feigning reluctance, but you were already dragging one of the chairs over so you could sit for his little presentation. “I mean, I guess I remember enough to do it again.” He took up his rightful place right next to his model, in front you, and cleared his throat to give you his speech.
The speech went wonderfully; you cheered as quietly loud as you possibly could. Your face was split by a bright smile that you were sure was enough to power the lights in this building if you really wanted to. If the board didn’t take up Hyunjae’s proposed new model after that, then you were about to send a strongly worded letter to the dean.
Hyunjae took on a boyish sort of smile after the moment had come and gone. “Hey, you wanna see something cool?”
“Cooler than this?”
“Pfft,” he dismissed nonchalantly, “you flatter me. But yeah, actually. Come on—it’s on the second floor.”
You quickly shoved your chair back into place and followed Hyunjae as he practically ran out of the room and up the stairs to the second floor. He had far too much energy for it being around ten o’clock at night, but when you saw the absolute glow on his face when he took you from project to project, gushing and nerding out about all the clever designs, you didn’t have the energy to even question his energy. There was something utterly contagious about hearing him talk about his major with such passion; you were so glad he had found a home in this field.
When the two of you finally let yourselves out of the architecture building, it was probably around an hour later. Your body ached with exhaustion, but your brain was abuzz with activity. You had missed this, missed him so much. For the first time in a very long time, you had never felt this carefree before.
“Can you believe we’re actually graduating tomorrow?” You asked him as the two of you walked toward the direction of the street your town house was on.
Hyunjae snorted. “No, not at all,” he said with a shake of his head. “Well, I’m actually so glad that I’m finally getting out of here, but it’s kind of scary, too.”
You gave a nod, then tilted your head back to breathe in the comfortable, night air. There were stars up in the sky tonight. “Yeah, I get that. Like, where will we all be, y’know?”
“Right.”
“But I think that the unknown in general will always be scary,” you added. “In the end, we’ll always know that everything will turn out okay.”
“And if it’s not okay, then it isn’t the end yet,” Hyunjae replied with a pointed look.
“Exactly.” You had a few options lined up for you after graduation, but you’d told yourself beforehand that you would deal with all of that after commencement day. After months and years of working nonstop, you deserved a little rest before fully stepping into the adult world. Wow, what a scary thought, indeed. "I'm proud of you, Hyunjae."
He had to stop himself from breaking down right there. "I'm proud of you, too, Yn."
The walk home was quiet, but it was as if a layer of film had been laid over just you and Hyunjae. The white noise of the night became somewhat calming for you, and you felt yourself sinking into a state of serenity. You had confessed your love for him already—he finally knew how you felt—but funny enough, that was freeing.
That had been your biggest secret, and finally being able to lift that burden from your chest was… it was good. Everything was good now.
Hyunjae softly said, "I know that you probably have so much to do after graduation tomorrow, but we've always wanted to go on a road trip cross-country."
When you looked up over at him, he could read the excitement glittering in your irises. "You're right! Man, that conversation was so long ago. I mean… I won't be so busy after graduation, not immediately. I want time to enjoy freedom with you," you laughed, lightly punching his shoulder.
He chuckled, your words soaking into his skin like sunlight on the first warm day after a harsh winter season. "I think it'd be nice, just the two of us." He couldn't wait.
There was an earnestness in the way you looked at him then. His thoughts had been all over the place before, but now, they were beginning to clear. "I think that'd be nice, too."
Your townhouse was now in sight, and a distinct feeling of anxiety rose in his throat. It was bitter-tasting, the way he dreaded leaving you for the night even if he would most definitely see you again tomorrow. He didn't know why inviting himself in like he usually did was so difficult now, but suddenly, you were both standing in the middle of the entryway and you were getting your keys from your bag.
It was late; he shouldn't keep you up. You'd had a long day.
"—you tomorrow then. Thanks for tonight, Jae."
He wrapped his arms around you just as you hugged him, his face pressed against the crown of your head and yours pressed into his shoulder. He didn't want to let go, but it was late—
"Good night," he said, nearly inaudibly.
"'Night," you said, going into the house and closing the door.
Maybe it was the physical, literal visual of you closing the door on him, but the epiphany hit him like a bus.
EPISODE FOURTEEN: AAAND THAT'S A WRAP!
YOU were about five steps from dropping to the floor and sleeping for about five years. Of course, you could not do that because you literally had to wake up to graduate tomorrow, but right this moment, you were so excited to just face plant into your pillow.
Tap!
The first time, you hadn't even heard the tiny noise as you shuffled into your attic bedroom and set your bag on the floor at the foot of your bed.
TAP!
Actually, you hadn't even heard it the second time—
BONK!
"What the…" Your head whirled around toward the window. You could have sworn you heard something hit the window pane. Cautiously, you walked up to the glass and peered out into the darkened street. It was a little difficult to see given the contrast between the light of your bedroom, the dark of night, and the fogging acrylic pane—
You nearly screeched as a small pebbled hit the window, right where your face would have been. What the fuck—?
Immediately, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. Could this have been Ellie trying to spook you again? No way, right? Plus, wasn't Hyunjae just walking by?...
Oh, wait.
With a huff of indignation, you wrestled with the latch on the window pane just as another tiny rock came flying at the glass. "Hold your horses," you muttered, finally managing to haul the dusty window up. You only ever really opened this window during the warmer months, and so you hadn't used it since probably late fall quarter.
You stuck your head out the window, and surprise surprise, Hyunjae was tossing another piece of ammo up and down in his palm, down at street level. "What is wrong with you?" You stage whispered.
His mouth curved into a frown, head tilting, eyebrows furrowing. "What?"
"What," you repeated firmer this time, "is wrong with you?"
"I needed to get your attention," he shrugged.
"You couldn't just text?"
"Isn't this what Romeo did?"
Clearly, someone hadn't been paying attention when you were studying for your classes on Shakespeare in both high school and second year of college. "No," you quipped, "and Romeo was stupid."
Hyunjae sighed, reaching up to cup the back of his neck, dropping the pebble in his hand to the ground. "Okay, so maybe I'm not some Romeo—" You weren't quite sure where he was going with this.
He started walking around, pacing the sidewalk in front of your townhouse since he couldn't stand directly below the window (your roommate would kill him if he killed her azaleas). For a moment, you were ready to go down there yourself and shake the words from him, but it seemed he was able to snap himself into focus.
"I just… it's taken me a long time—god, it always takes me a long time to come up with the words for this type of stuff," he stumbled over his words, and you felt yourself grow increasingly tender. He was never good at wearing his heart on his sleeve. "And my friends have been saying it this whole time—hell, I've probably been aware of it unconsciously this whole time, too! But you know how I am. I'm too damn stubborn to cave, even to myself."
You let him continue on without breaking his monologue. Though you couldn't be too sure what this was, your heart still galloped in hope.
"Yn, I'm—" he said, head tilting back to meet your eyes so you could see those beautiful irises of his, "—I'm in love with you, too."
This was really happening, huh? Your fingers curled around the window sill and you opened your mouth in an effort to say something, but then you closed it. The words and the thoughts were there, but it was so foggy in your mind that you couldn't even string the words together yourself either.
You watched the hope, the light, gradually fade from his expression, even if he wasn't actively trying to show it. "Please tell me to go home if you're not gonna say anything," he said to you next. "I know you're tired, but god, I just stood here and realized I wouldn't be able to sleep if I didn't tell you. I know it's selfish, but…" He lifted his hands in sort of a helpless gesture, his hands then falling limp at his sides.
Finally, you found your voice. You cleared your throat, then asked quietly, albeit a tad nervously, "This—this isn't just because you feel bad about what I said about not reciprocating, right? I mean, higher levels of excitement and arousal can be misattributed to feelings sometimes—"
Hyunjae shook his head. "Dear god, no. I've just been… I've just been really stupid, so, uhm, maybe I am like Romeo?"
You fought the smile on your face, but it seemed you lost the battle. "Silly goose," you teased, laughing as you shook your head. "You ain't no Romeo, Lee Jaehyun, but I've never wanted anyone but you anyway."
He broke into a laugh at that, the sound echoing in the streets, and it sounded like, if one could bottle up pure delight and release it to the world. "You're so much better at this than me."
"Clearly."
"Well," he bit his lip, his smile impish, "can I kiss you to make up for it?"
Oh, there went your heart—there it went, carrying you down the stairs and out the door—you would have leapt out the window if you were physically able (you weren't). Your heart carried you all the way outside again until you arrived in your best friend's arms, his face, his smile illuminated in the soft glow of the streetlight.
And he held you so tight, you couldn't tell if that beating at your chest was his heart or yours. The two of you wasted no time in pressing your mouths to the other, tasting the other's smile in one more way than you'd ever done before.
It felt, at that moment, that this might have marked act three of one part of your life—but act one of the next was just beginning.
Perhaps it was true then: when it counted, you always went back to your first love.
a/n: heyy thank you for reading thru!! i hope u enjoyed and if u did, pls do consider commenting, reblogging, or sending an ask :] we do love a bit of humility in the end ayo :3 the original plan is to go for sunwoo's next o7
permanent taglist: @tayunji @im-a-big-mess @honeyhuii @crazywittysassy @seomisaho @stopeatread @enhacolor @rnjfy @jaehunnyy @kpopjackie @spiderrenjunfics @soobin-chois @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l @mingiholic @ethereal-engene @ja4hyvn @vatterie @yogurteume @justalildumpling @hyunjaespresent-deobi @hongyangi @pxppxrminty @nerdypastacalzonespy @zhaixiaowen @wtfhyuck @jcmdoll @kflixnet
anr taglist: @oi-miya @loveliestfelix @sickvision @jaerisdiction @stealanity @magnificentjudementmoneyhands @inthesunnn @igotkpoopsss @letsnotdoanything @sodafy @dajanxekiwi @sseastar-main @moonyswolf @sleepymoon27 @floatingpluto @fictionlover100 @winterchimez @zlebooks @mcu-incorrect @moontyuns @blessedsunoo @elljj @softie00 @ohmykwonsoonyoung @makgeolli_jw @quill-ink
#the boyz x reader#lee hyunjae x reader#hyunjae x reader#the boyz drabble#the boyz drabbles#the boyz fanfic#the boyz imagines#the boyz scenarios#the boyz oneshots#hyunjae imagines#hyunjae scenarios#hyunjae drabbles#hyunjae oneshots
419 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
swagger-dara-blog
Treat with care
mallowmatsu
neet central!
nadiahajar
Sans titre
diarioescondido
Diario Escondido
ninth-on-eight
Getting over a boring day