#i will be deleting the link tonight before i go to sleep!

[ressjeon]

endearing | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: you're just worried when your loud housemate suddenly goes quiet after serenading you for hours

rating: pg13 | word count: 1.3k

genre/au: housemates!au, romance?, fluff (lmao who's this), they're just fRiEnDs 🤭

warnings/content: just alcohol consumption, they're sweet ig 🥰

a/n: yk i’m supposed to be on break (literally on midterm season) but here we are. also i haven’t written a purely SFW drabble for a very long time so please bear with me i just love him sm. huge thank you to my phone's voice feature lol, i'd never finished this in a few hours with how slow i usually am.

companion song: more than friends by becky g 💖

You’re scrolling through your phone when you notice that the whole house has suddenly turned quiet.

You couldn’t be that you’re fixated on your phone that you didn’t notice your housemate has ended his karaoke session because you swear the living room was still loud just a few minutes ago. Jungkook, one of your housemates, has been singing his heart out since past 1 AM today. Not that you mind it really, because you’re a night owl, just like him. You love it when he does his live streams because he usually does karaoke sessions in each of them no matter what he was doing at first.

Jungkook’s one of the popular students on your campus and has a huge following on his IG account, which he uses mainly for everything, no matter how random they are. He deletes his pictures often though when he feels like changing his feed. You’re hoping that he just archived them because he’s quite talented at photography. However, he does frequent lives on IG in return since people tune in when he goes live anyway, filled with comments from either his group of friends or his admirers.

It’s been a while since you heard Jungkook singing. He has a very beautiful voice that even though he doesn’t remember the lyrics for most of the songs that he sang, he still sounded so good to anyone who’s listening. Your other housemates are still not back from their reading week vacation, giving Jungkook the only time when he could be as loud as he can in the house without disturbing anybody. He’s aware that you stay up like him and listen to him when he’s singing, relieved that out of your housemates, it’s you who remained with him. Both of you are the only ones who didn’t go anywhere because of your packed schedules.

Tonight, as diverse as his playlist is, you still feel like he’s serenading you with most of his song choices. Those songs are on your playlist too, which he knew since you’ve shared each other’s links before. So now you’re going to let yourself be deluded, humming along to the songs while you’re getting your tasks done. When the music stopped, you thought he was just taking breaks, so you didn’t think much of it. Jungkook usually creates small noises after he’s done, cleaning up the living room and kitchen before going back to his room.

But it’s suddenly quiet. Did he fall asleep already? Should you check, but then why would you? Jungkook sleeps anywhere at any time unlike you, but you’ve always been paranoid. The lazy part of you wants to close your eyes and fall asleep already, but the other part wants to go down and check. It’s just normal right just in case? Besides, it’s also part of your responsibility as a housemate.

It’s the least you could do for Jungkook because he took care of you many times when you come home drunk from house parties at 5 AM. He even took as much as helping you by being there while you let everything out, offering you a glass of water and making sure you remove your makeup before tucking you into your bed after. He cooks you noodle soup in the morning too in case you get hangovers, which you thankfully don't but your heart somersaults every time with how thoughtful he is.

So despite how comfy your bed is right now, you forced yourself to get up and pushed away your comforter before going down to the living room to check.

And your guts were right because you see Jungkook sleeping soundly on his stomach by the couch with a lighted-scented candle on the table in front of him. The light from the candle allows you to see his handsome face clearly, with flushed cheeks and slightly puckered lips as he sleeps in his arms. He looks adorable, wearing a black crewneck in sweater paws, obscuring his colourful sleeve from your eyes. His cute snores crack a small smile on your face as you approach his sleeping figure, carefully taking the remote from his hands. Sure, he’s a deep sleeper, but you didn’t want to wake him up because it’s already 4 AM and you’re a bit sleepy too.

You then turn off the TV and unplugged the mood lamp that he designed for one of his classes. It’s so pretty, and he brings it out in the living room once in a while, especially when he’s doing his live streams. You also just noticed the half-filled beer mug on the table, taking it with you to the kitchen where you’ve put it back on the ref before deciding to look for spare blankets for him. You couldn’t find any though, so you just opted for his room, which is surprisingly wide open.

Jungkook stays in the room on the first floor, so he frequents the living room when he’s not gaming or doing schoolwork. Entering his room, you grabbed his blanket at once, fighting the urge to nuzzle it, given how good Jungkook usually smells when you hug him. You went back to the living room and put the blanket over him, pushing away a strand of his hair from his closed eyes before tucking it behind his ears. His hair had gotten longer and curly, so fluffy too that you’d been expressing how you love this look on him. Jungkook smiles when you do, letting you ruffle his hair more.

He stirs a bit, causing you to go rigid and worried that you woke him up. You don’t move until you were sure that he’s fully sleeping. And though he might not hear it, you still wish him a quiet good night before eyeing the candle. You love the smell of it but for safety reasons, you blow out and retreat upstairs to your room.

.

The footsteps padding in the hallway woke you up from your deep slumber, being the sensitive sleeper you are. You’re wondering how Jungkook’s awake at this hour and why he’s up here, reluctantly rising from your bed before opening the door. There you watch him scurrying back to the stairs wrapped in his blankets looking like a deer caught in the headlights when he hears you.

“Jungkook? why are you awake? do you need something? it’s still early” you asked him sleepily while rubbing your eyes.

“um, i woke up and i-uh” he couldn’t look you in the eye, the nervousness evident in his voice. “you can’t sleep?” you yawn, yearning to go back to your comfy bed but you just wanna talk to him more. 

Jungkook shakes his head. “i just wanna say thank you for earlier and uh-sorry for waking you up” he grins apologetically, rubbing the back of his neck.

“oh Kook, that’s nothing compared to what you’ve done more for me” you smile at him, truly grateful for his existence in your life. Hold, you’re sleep deprived to be having these thoughts right now but Jungkook just looks so endearing in your eyes despite how sleepy you still are. 

Damn, you really should sleep more.

He’s oddly looking at you fondly so you mimic him, both of you waiting who will back down first. Jungkook looks like he wants to say something more, tongue poking around his lip ring with that doe eyes of his. You smile at him, urging him to continue. He’s back to being shy around you these days for some reason but you don’t wanna pry, just want him to be comfortable as much as possible. 

“i’m still sleepy so i’m going back to my room” you can see him retracting so you approach him, a knowing smile already plastered on your face. “do you wanna cuddle? i think we’ll fit in my bed” his nervous eyes were replaced with excitement, following you to your room.

You didn’t even get to lie down on your bed properly when he tackles you, spurring a hearty giggle out of you with him matching you. “what?” he hugs you right away, mumbling something against your skin as he snuggles his head on the crook of your neck. Your hands automatically card through his luscious hair until you hear his breathing slow down, and his cute snores occurring once again. 

Guess you’ll never know what all these are for until he wakes.

e/n: i'm testing many things from this so hope it's wholesome enough lmao (i tried). have a lovely week everyone!

#jungkook x reader #bts x reader #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #bts fanfic #jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #bts #bts imagines #bangtan #bts fanfiction #bts au #bts x you #jeongguk #bts imagine #bts drabble #btshoneyhive

[emberenchanted]

For Keeps (2/3)

Pairing: Dark!Carol Danvers x Female Reader

Summary: Carol sees you. Carol wants you. Carol gets what she wants. 

Series Warnings: extremely dubious consent, strap ons (r receiving), sex (oral, vaginal), fingering, anal fingering, Dom!Carol, orgasm denial, spanking, violence (not really towards reader), manipulation, forced relationship, rough sex

18+ ONLY

Link to Chapter 1

Chapter 2

As you drag yourself up the stairs to your studio above the bar you reflect on whether living at home with your parents had really been that bad. This kind of thing didn’t happen where you were from and it had you thinking that perhaps it was time to revisit your long term plans. Coming back home after three months was kind of pitiful, but even that might be better than getting pulled into a world you have no business in. One filled with casual violence that made your stomach turn. 

Especially since you were now dreading the inevitable phone call from Carol. You knew she would call and you knew you wouldn’t be able to say no to her. That was a dangerous road to start down. Better to nip it in the bud ASAP. 

Calling an ambulance for Mel and closing down the bar mostly by yourself made for an extra late night and all you could think about was taking a hot shower (your meager attempt to wash the violence off of you and out of your mind) and climbing into bed. You wish you’d given yourself a glass of wine “on the house,” but after Carol’s display, it seemed like Mel really couldn’t spare the extra cash. 

When you awake late the next morning it’s with a pounding headache and two missed calls from an unknown number. You also see a voicemail notification. Your mind quickly flashes over the events of the preceding night and you immediately wish you were still sleeping. For some reason you feel like you should be sitting up while you listen to Carol’s message, so you throw your legs over the edge of your sofa bed and drag yourself into an upright position. 

As you suspected, the message was from Carol and she sounded like sin. 

Beep. “Hey, baby. It’s me, Carol. I had such a good time with you last night, and I can’t wait to see you again. How about I pick you up tonight at 7pm for dinner and a show? Call me back with your address as soon as you get this. Ok, bye baby. Talk to you soon.”  

You squeeze your eyes shut and press 7 to delete the message. You never should have given her your number. And you definitely couldn’t go out with her. She’d hurt Mel! In the three months since you’d moved to the city, Mel had been--well, not a friend exactly--but a stable acquaintance. He’d given you a job and a place to live, and only price gouged you a little. But the commute to work was unbeatable. You generally liked Mel and wanted him to be ok. Carol, or whoever she was representing, could have offered him some kind of payment plan. From what you could tell from his tearful blabbering while you waited for the ambulance, he’d made an honest mistake. 

You also knew that while you might be telling yourself you were refusing to call Carol back out of some source of solidarity, the simple truth was that Carol scared you shitless. She also didn’t seem like someone who handled rejection well. And you aren’t interested in standing up to her and risking her undeniably brutal wrath. You don’t think that she would hurt you like she’d hurt Mel, but you also don’t think she’ll simply accept your answer and leave you be. So, to your bleary brain, ignoring the problem is the next best thing. You busy yourself with laundry and tidying your small apartment; your distractions work well until Carol’s next two calls at 5 and 6pm. She doesn’t leave any more voice messages and you hope that she got the message that you weren’t interested and that she would lose interest in you. You spend the evening with a bottle of cheap red wine and Netflix. You tumble into bed around 2 am and fall into a fitful sleep. When you wake up in the early afternoon the next day, 6 hours before your 7:30 pm shift at Mel’s, you nervously check your phone for more messages. To your relief, there are none. 

Carol’s good mood fizzles in the 24 hours after meeting you. The morning after Mel’s Tavern she’d woken up in high spirits. After a quick 6 mile run, she’d showered, eaten a hearty breakfast, and started planning her date. She’d settled on a location for dinner, made reservations, and bought tickets to a popular live show. She’d called Y/N to tell her all about their night, then called again to leave a message. By 5pm, Carol was irritated, and by 6pm she was worried. She’d even driven by Mel’s around 6:30pm to see if you were working. If Carol had known your address, she wouldn’t have hesitated to drop by. By 7:30pm Carol was back in the gym, sparring just a bit too viciously with Natasha. 

“Damn!,” Nat huffs out as Carol puts her on her ass for the fifth time that evening. She sits up while rubbing her side and looks at Carol through the red sheet of hair that has fallen over her face. “Did I happen to do something to you? Because, if so, you should know I’m very sorry. Can you please stop beating me up? ”

Carol sticks out her hand to help Natasha off the mat. “Sorry. I’m a little distracted today so I wasn’t really paying attention.”

Natasha, now standing, looks quizzically at Carol and then laughs, “I feel like I should be insulted.”

Carol smiles. “Never, Nat. You always give me a good fight." The next moment her smile turned sour. “I’m just frustrated and a bit pissed. I met this woman last night and she gave me her number, but then started avoiding me. She won’t answer her phone and stood me up for a date. That’s actually where I’m supposed to be now. But I know she likes me. I saw the way she looked at me and reacted when I touched her. But, she’s just too nervous to admit it.” 

Carol rolls her eyes and throws her head back as she releases a frustrated grunt.

“Ok, woman troubles. Now that I can help with,” Nat chuckles. “If she’s too shy, then you need to be bold enough for the both of you. Don’t let her say no.”

“You know what Nat?,” Carol grins, “it’s like you read my mind.”

Carol strides into Mel’s Tavern at 9 pm the following night. She walks directly to the bar, ignoring everyone around her and heading straight to you.

As she approaches, your heart starts racing and the room feels much hotter than it had moments ago. She was just as breathtakingly beautiful as you remembered and your mind empties for just a moment. She didn’t look happy, but she also didn’t look like she was about to fling a knife into your heart or drive a fist into your face. That had to be a good sign, right? 

“Hey, Carol,” you choke out quietly. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No, Y/N. But I would very much like to speak with you.” Carol states calmly, hands braced against the edge of the bar and body leaning over the counter towards you. “Why don’t you take your break now?”

You gesture aimlessly to the few scattered patrons in the bar. For the second time in as many shifts nobody would look at you. They were all suspiciously interested in the glasses in front of them, even if those glasses were empty. You grit your teeth and say, “Someone might need me.”

Carol frowns, looks around and asks the room loudly, “Anybody here need anything?”

A chorus of “nos” come back to her.

Carol raises one of her perfectly arched eyebrows and beckons you over to her with a softly crooked finger. 

You scoot to the section of the bar directly in front of Carol, cross your arms and look down. Carol reaches across the bar with her right hand and, taking your chin between her thumb and forefinger, pushes your head up until you meet her eyes directly. 

Your brain races through excuses frantically. You knew it was a possibility she’d show up and you should have prepared better. Maybe you could say that things have been a little crazy in your life and you don’t have time to pursue anything... with anyone? Not just her? It was a pitiful excuse, but the best you could come up with.

Carol looks at you, head tilted slightly, brows furrowed, and eyes narrowed as her thumb gently strokes your face. Her expression could only be described as frustrated yet determined. “Baby,” Carol began slowly, “I’m confused. When I came in two nights ago, we had an instant connection. That doesn’t happen often, does it?”

Your head jerks quickly back and forth, signaling no.

“Ok, that's what I thought,” Carol continues. Her voice hardens slightly, as does the hand holding your face. You wince at the sudden pressure. “So why didn’t you call me back? Why did you make me call you four times with no response?”

Your head feels dizzy and your lips stay glued together. You're on the verge of a panic attack and all you could think of is getting her to let you go. 

“Answer me, baby. Now,” Carol commands, as her grip on your chin tightens further. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. Your eyes squeeze shut and your upper body is leaned back as far as you can while your face is still being held by Carol. 

Carol abruptly releases your face and you have to take a quick step and set your hand on the bar to rebalance your body. 

Carol’s hand snakes out and grabs yours, holding it firmly so you can’t walk away. Her voice softens some, but still sounds slightly harsh .“Ok, I’ll forgive you this time. But don’t let it happen again.” From her back pocket she whips out a piece of paper and a pen. “Write down your address so I know where to pick you up tomorrow.”

Once Carol pockets your address, she reaches for your hand once more. “How much longer do you have on your break, baby? Let’s go outside.” 

After walking you outside, Carol immediately presses you against the brick wall and pushes her lips against yours in a forceful kiss. Her tongue slips across the seam of your lips until you open to allow her entry into your mouth. She sets to exploring every bit of you, sucking your tongue into her mouth and nibbling on your lips until they are tender and you are breathless and dizzy. Then she’d promptly untucked your shirt, unbuttoned your jeans, and slid her hand down to your slippery folds. When you try to move away, her free hand tightens on your waist and shoves you back, making your back scrape against the wall. 

“Mmmm, is all this for me?,” she murmurs, nuzzling your ear, as her fingers part you and begin gently rubbing from your clit to your slick opening. You squirm on Carol's fingers, and Carol slides her thumbnail over your sensitive clit harshly, making you yelp. “Did I tell you to move?”

“No,” you whisper.

“When we're together like this you call me Ma’am,” Carol growls. “No, who?”

”No, ma’am” you gasp out while trying desperately to stay still. She slides two fingers into you and your walls flutter furiously around Carol's fingers, searching for relief. “Sorry, ma’am.” It comes out as a whimper. 

Carol pushes her fingers deeper up inside of you and you choke. Her free hand slides under your shirt, over your waist and ribs, before spreading and tightening under your breast, fingernails digging into the hollows between your ribs, scratching your soft flesh. Carol thumbs your taut nipple, and a moan bubbles up in your throat as you fight your every instinct in your attempt not to move. Her warm breath fans over your neck as she shifts your body flat against the wall, caging you in. 

Carol pinches your nipple sharply as her fingers begin to push into you harder and faster. She  focuses her thrusts, curling her fingers inside you to rub your spongy flesh until she hits that exquisite spot that makes you moan and shiver. The slick sound of her fingers pumping in and out of your pussy fills your ears. That and Carol’s murmuring are all you can hear. Her voice pitches you higher as she calls you her good girl, her sweet girl, her hot sticky tight little girl. 

Your heart pounds in your chest as you feel the relentless rising in your core. You approach the edge of a wicked orgasm, and just as you feel yourself begin to teter over, Carol slides her fingers out of you and starts slipping them, in a whisper soft motion, over your clit, just barely brushing you. The abrupt emptiness has you whining sharply. 

“No, no, no,” Carol whispers in your ear. She presses her body firmly against yours,  “No coming for you. You were a bad girl. Do bad girls get orgasms?”

“No,” you gasp.

Carol pinches your clit sharply once before going back to her soothing motion, “No, who?”

“No, ma’am,” you whimper. 

“Good girl. We’re going to do that a few more times while you apologize to me, ok? Hold on, baby.”

Feeling lost, you loop your arms around her neck and drop your head into the crook of her neck. Carol’s long slender fingers push roughly back inside of you, furiously rubbing you as you whine and squirm against the wall. Before long you hear yourself apologizing for not answering her calls, for worrying her, for standing her up. 

She tortures you throughout your broken apologies, bringing you to the edge over and over only to force you back down. 

Finally, finally, she must decide you’ve apologized enough, and she whispers in your ear as her fingers pick up again, “Shhh, now, I’m going to let you come baby. You’re being such a good girl and you apologized so nice. But don’t you ever ignore my calls again. No matter what.” Her voice hardens and her slippery fingers pinch at your clit gently--making you jump and yelp--before pushing them back inside you, “You understand me?”

Your brain is fuzzy and can’t seem to string together enough words to form a sentence. When you first saw Carol enter the bar you definitely didn’t intend for this to happen. You’d hope that you could somehow weasel out of a date with her without her getting mad. Things had obviously not gone according to plan. You must take too long to respond, because Carol’s free hand reaches to twist your clit harshly, making you howl. 

“Answer me. Now.” The fingers inside you don’t stop. 

The sharp pain from her twist radiates up your body, and temporarily mutes your rising orgasm. “Yes,” you sob pathetically. “Yes, I understand, ma’am.”

Carol uses the entirety of her body weight to push you up against the wall. Your back scrapes the wall as her fingers pick up speed and she coos softly in your ear. Her fingers push you violently over the edge, and you buck harshly between the wall and Carol's solid form. Carol’s fingers fuck you through your orgasm as she nuzzles your neck, licking and nipping at the tender skin there as you come down.  

Carol watches as you readjust your clothes and wipe at the mist in your eyes before she walks you back into the bar. She drops a possessive kiss on your mouth before heading toward the door. At the last minute, she turns and looks you dead in the eye. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Right, baby?” 

You look back at her and nod. “Yes, ma’am,” you whisper under your breath. 

After dropping you back at work, Carol walks to her car with her lips curled into a smile. She is sure that she’s on the right track with her sweet, shy little baby. She's even hopeful that she might be able to trade in her unused tickets for show credit that she could use for her date tomorrow night with you.

Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks for reading and for any feedback you give. Please do let me know what you think so far. It's much appreciated. Also, I know need to work on my dividers.. haven't quite figured those out yet. Thanks for bearing with me.

#dark carol danvers x female reader #dark carol danvers x reader #dark!carol danvers #dark!carol #avengers smut #marvel reader insert #dark marvel au #marvel fic #dark! carol danvers #tw dark fic #carol danvers x female reader #carol danvers x reader #smut #tw dubious consent #tw dubcon #for keeps series

[writercole]

Bound: A Sounds of Someday story

Summary: Jensen and Y/N have a strained month after their engagement. Words: 1848 Warnings: Childbirth (non graphic), anxiety. Credits: I'm pretty sure @flamencodiva beta'd this ages ago when it was supposed to be more than this. A/N: This is part of the world of Sounds of Someday. I haven't written RPF in over a year now so this is definitely an ancient wip that I'm bringing back for my dear friend @jensengirl83's birthday. I tried to find the master list for the series buuuut it's legit gone and I'm pretty sure that I deleted it. But I've linked the prologue (haha fooled you guys. The series is still there, just the ML is gone) and everything should be crosslinked. ANYWAY - this was born out of a challenge that Brandy set forth quite some time ago. My song was 'Turn the Page' by Bob Seger. I'm pretty sure I captured it well. Love you B! A/N 2: There is an entire story to follow behind this but I'm elbow deep in the rewrite and I'm also sure that the story that follows will be a separate book. But to all the fans of this series, I love you and cannot thank you enough. You can read the original again and the rewrite will be done hopefully in the next 6ish months. 😘

Jensen laid in the bunk on the tour bus and stared at the wall. The only thing he could hear was the sound of the engine roaring and the tires on the road. Everyone else was asleep except for the driver, Cliff. He’d tried to fall asleep but the only thing he saw when he closed his eyes was his fiancee’s face the moment she realized what he was doing on that stage two months ago.

Jensen dropped down to one knee in front of Y/N and her hands flew to her mouth as she gasped in surprise. “What better place to continue our adventure than on the stage where it began. Y/N, will you make me the luckiest man on earth and be my wife?”

He smiled at the memory as it played in his head again, comforting him while he rode several hundred miles east from Omaha to their next show. With a sigh, he turned over again, facing the curtain that was drawn across his bunk. The soft glow of the ambient nightlights filtered through a crack in the curtain, illuminating the beige walls and light blue of the curtain and bed linens. 

Jensen huffed as he swung his legs out of his bunk and padded to the common area. He sat in the corner of the black leather sofa and spread out from end to end, his feet resting against one end while his back was against the other. He leaned his head against the back of the sofa and pulled his phone out, opening the youtube app and hitting his favorites.

The video they recorded for Eric Church started playing softly, the strains of ‘Like a Wrecking Ball’ surrounding him as he watched their smiling faces filling his screen. A tear slipped down his cheek when the video switched to the one Gen had posted of the proposal. He fell asleep watching the two videos on repeat, like he had every night since he’d left her side.

Y/N sipped from the glass of wine that was perched on the edge of the bathtub. The bubbles had nearly gone and the water was barely warm but her eyelids were still refusing to get heavy. It wasn’t the same sitting in the house in Austin alone, it wasn’t the same sleeping alone. Jensen’s pillow smelled like him, but it was cold, too soft. 

Sighing dejectedly, she drained her glass and then the tub, stepping out onto the plush rug and wrapping herself up in Jensen’s soft robe. She inhaled deeply, comforting herself with his scent.

She crawled into bed again and pulled up youtube on the smart tv. She navigated to her favorites playlist and hit play. The sound of Jensen’s voice filled the room, a video from one of his first concerts with Corey. She watched several videos before drifting off into an uneasy sleep.

“Jensen, man, what’s going on? You were a million miles away tonight,” Corey asked, his brows furrowed and his voice soft. They had just finished a show and Jensen had been sullen and quiet, his usual playful banter missing from their set.

"I have never been more ready for a tour to end. I like what we do, love what we do, but I don't know if I want to keep doing this." Jensen put his head in his hands and sighed deeply, willing the tears away. 

Corey sat next to his friend and put his hand on his shoulder. “I get it, man. I do. With Alicia due any day now, I’m questioning this life, too. It’s hard enough being away from my wife but being away from my kid? That’s going to be a whole other ballgame.”

“We haven’t even set a date or really had time to just absorb being engaged, you know? She was with us that night and the next, then she went back home to Austin and I haven’t seen her in a month and we can barely video call and -” Jensen felt his breathing getting shallow and his chest tightening, signaling the start of an anxiety attack. It had been a few years since his last one and was shaping up to be a major one.

“Steve, bag!” Corey yelled across the room. Steve took one look at Jensen and ran across the room with one of the paper bags that were kept on hand for the number of people dealing with anxiety on the tour. 

Corey handed Jensen the opened bag and walked him through breathing and grounding exercises, calming him down and getting him to refocus on the room around him. He handed Jensen a bottle of water and made sure he was okay before continuing their conversation.

“Look, Jay, it’s not gonna be easy, man. But we’ve only got a few more dates on this tour and then we’re off for months. You’ll be able to hang with us and your godchild, whatever that may be. You’ll plan the wedding, hell maybe even have the wedding. And it’ll all feel like a bad memory,” Corey offered half-heartedly. 

“Yeah,” Jensen nodded, swallowing hard. “Distant memory.”

The days passed in a hurry. The countdown progressed down to hours, just over 48 now. Two more days and Y/N would be back at this airport picking up her fiance’. But now, she had business to tend to.

It was nearly midnight when Y/N made it to the door of the apartment her best friends owned. She was staying with Alicia until either the baby was born or Corey got back from tour. Alicia insisted that she was fine but Y/N wouldn’t take no for an answer; it was her way of paying them back for everything they’d done for her since they’d met. 

“Alicia!” Y/N called as she walked inside, taking her keys out of the door and slipping them in her pocket. Alicia didn’t answer, but Y/N heard her cry out in pain. She rushed towards the bedroom, the direction the sound came from, and found Alicia doubled over, holding onto the door frame of the en suite and clutching her stomach. “Lee?!”

“Y/N. Thank god you’re here. I think I’m going into labor.” A splashing sound drew their attention towards the ground, a stream of clear liquid puddling on the floor at Alicia’s feet. 

“Pretty sure your water just broke, hon. Get your shoes, I’ll grab your bag and we’ll call the hospital on the way down to the street,” Y/N instructed, already heading to the closet for the prepared bags. As soon as she grabbed them, she was phoning the hospital and getting the information on the fastest way there and what she needed to do for Alicia in the meantime.

“Y/N, Corey,” Alicia panted as she waddled to the elevator. 

“Don’t worry, hon. I’ll handle everything else. You just focus on keeping that baby where it is until we get to the hospital.” Y/N said a silent prayer to whomever was listening that they’d make it in time and that she wouldn’t have to deliver a baby in the backseat of a cab.

Cliff had stopped at an all-night diner for everyone to get off the bus, stretch their legs, and have dinner before continuing on the next leg of the journey. There was still time before the next show, the last show of the tour, so he figured a break from the road was needed.

The group was situated at a long table, Corey at one end and Cliff at the other, quietly talking and enjoying their break. Corey’s phone rang and he looked at Jensen after checking the id. “It’s after midnight and it’s Y/N.”

“Her flight landed like two hours ago,” Jensen added, worry building in his gut.

“Y/N, what’s going -” Corey was cut off by Y/N talking very, very quickly and then handing off the phone. “Alicia, baby, are you okay? How far apart are they? How long until you get there? Okay baby, one of you call me when you can. I love you.” Corey hung up the phone and looked at the table. “Alicia is in labor. Y/N is with her. They’re almost to the hospital.”

The table was stunned into silence before a cacophony of reassurances spewed forth from everyone, turning the heads of the other diners, though no one seemed to care. They finished their meal quickly and headed to the bus, ready to get this final show on the road so Corey could get home to meet his kid.

Seven hours later, Alicia was holding a beautiful baby boy. She was exhausted but she was overjoyed, basking in the bliss of new motherhood. Y/N watched everything with a soft smile and tears in her eyes, happy for her best friends and already deeply in love with her godson.

Corey was video chatting with Alicia and the baby, assuring them that he’d be here tomorrow. That meant that Jensen would be here tomorrow as well. Y/N sighed in relief and shut her eyes, knowing that it would feel faster if she got some rest.

The performers on stage for their final date of the tour were nearly vibrating with anticipation, counting the seconds until they could run back to the tour bus and hop on their flight to New York. The crowd was enjoying every second and the energy in the arena was palpable.

Corey thanked everyone and bid them a good night, restraining himself from running off the stage. Post show drinks were skipped as everyone packed up as fast as they could, the amplifiers still ringing in their ears, and headed to the airport. 

The plane took off from South Carolina and landed in New York a few hours later. Corey and Jensen were scanning the crowd as soon as it came into view, chuckling when they spotted Y/N holding a sign that said ‘aging, washed up rock stars’ in bold black letters. 

She dropped the sign as soon as she saw Jensen rounding the corner of the walkway and ran to him, jumping in his arms with a smile that stretched from ear to ear.

“I missed you so much, sweetheart,” Jensen whispered as he twirled her around. 

“Missed you more,” she replied as she buried her face into his neck. 

“What’s this about you picking up aging, washed up rock stars?” Corey jested from behind them.

She lifted her head enough to send him a glare. He tossed his head back laughing loudly, amused by the antics of his best friends.

“Can we wrap this up, please? I got a kid to meet,” he quipped, smirking at the couple. 

Jensen shifted Y/N onto his shoulder in a fireman’s carry as she shrieked and the three of them headed to the baggage claim. 

Jensen took the wheel and drove straight to the hospital, dropping Corey off to go be with his son and wife. “Where to, sweetheart?” he asked when they pulled away. 

“Anywhere, baby. As long as I’m with you.”

#writercole #old wip #sounds of someday #jensen ackles rpf #corey taylor rpf #happy birthday brandy #turn the page by bob seger

[captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship]

Men pay a lot of money to get their name into Gwyn's exclusive black book - enough that, with careful planning, she's putting herself through law school debt-free. Once she's graduated, she can retire the high heels and little black dresses and get to work in the pursuit of justice that she and her sister never received.

Azriel Singer's profile intrigues her, with a smile that never shines in his eyes and a delectable body. But will his attitude get in the way of any future potential?

I am so fortunate to be chosen to write Ch.2 of this fic for the ACOTAR Writing Circle 3 that has been coordinated by the amazing @azrielshadowssing

Part 1 was written by the incredible @hlizr50 and I hope I did this work justice!

Here is the link to Part 2, or read below!

TW: mentions of SA

ONE MONTH LATER

This had been a month from Hell. Gwyn was all but dying as she turned in her final assignment of the semester, thankful that she had somehow found the time to study and work a few extra nights of the week. 

Gwyn had met with Tarquin the day after the disastrous meeting with Azriel. He was sweet and her saving grace over the last month. He didn’t want anything more than what she was used to offering - just a few weekends of fun. She made her rent with some cash to spare just from him alone.

 It was all fine, but Gwyn couldn’t stop herself from venturing to Azriel’s profile, perplexed at what kind of bullshit someone had to go through in order to be such a massive asshole. He was hot, sure, and the kind of rich that would make paying off her college tuition look like a drop in the bucket. Had he been even a little less of dick, she might have milked him for all he was worth. 

So fuck him. 

But still… she couldn’t delete his profile off of her contact list. Couldn’t break that single connection to the man who equally perplexed and infuriated her. 

Gwyn’s phone pinged, bringing her out of her stupor and back to reality. Her group chat with Nesta and Emerie consisted of funny memes, gossip, and the only source of true fun Gwyn had had in ages.

Nesta:

Let's go out tonight to celebrate! 

Gwyn:

I am exhausted, Nesta. Maybe next time?

Gwyn entered her apartment and collapsed on the couch, ready to pass out and allow herself the bliss of sleep. Her phone went off again, and she silently cursed as she read the next message.

Emerie:

Take a nap and then join us! It isn’t everyday that you finish your second year of Law School, let alone in the top five of your class. You are a shoe in for any internship in the country. Take the evening off and just live a little! 

Gwyn thought about it. When was the last time she really spent time with her best friends? Her weekends were filled with being whisked away on private jets to sunny beaches with Tarquin and her week days were jammed with studying and writing paper after paper. She had some money left over, and with this break coming up she could take on more clients than usual to get ahead of her bills. 

Gwyn:

Fine, you win. Now you guys leave me be for the next 6 hours and then we can meet at Rita’s at 9pm? 

Nesta:

YES! Finally!!!! First shot’s on me ;)

Emerie:

WOOOOOOO! 

Emerie:

Ok, love. Get some sleep, because tonight we PARTY!

Gwyn chuckled at their enthusiasm, and it wasn’t long before she set her alarm and passed out- content and excited for the night to come. 

----

Gwyn, Nesta and Emerie strode into the club and headed straight for the bar opposite the dancefloor. 

“Three tequila shots and lime, thanks.” Nesta said, gesturing to the male bartender, Balthazar. She had taken a martial arts class with him when they all attended Velaris University and he always hooked the girls up when they came in. He just smiled and brought them right over, ignoring the guys who seemed to be attempting to flag him down to bring them some beers. Nesta just gave them one of her cold smiles and they shut right up.

“Here you go ladies.” Balthazar crooned as he dropped 4 shots of tequila and a small bowl of limes down in front of them. He smiled at Gwyn kindly and she was alway happy to see a friendly, male face whenever she was here. “I haven’t seen you in a while, Gwyn. Finally crawling out of your den to join us in the land of the drunk and living?”

“If only you knew the half of it. I’m literally bending over backwards to finish this degree. You try finding the time to make the dean’s honors list in Law School, work your ass off, and still look this good in heels after a final’s week from hell.” Gwyn retorted back. 

His gaze dropped to said heels appreciatively. Perhaps it took a moment longer than necessary for his eyes to crawl back up her legs to her smirking features, but Gwyn wasn’t complaining. He just put his hands up in silent surrender and passed out the shots to all of us. 

Nesta held her glass out in a toast. “To the shit we have seen, and the shit to come. At least the booze and company are worth it all.” They all grabbed a lime slice, clinked their shots together, and knocked them back. Gwyn savored the heat of the tequila running down her throat. 

As she slammed her glass down on the bar victoriously, Gwyn could feel someone watching her. Her neck tingled as a gaze- hard and determined- bore into her back. Turning towards the dancefloor, she scanned the room until her eyes landed on a pair of familiar hazel ones. Ones that she had ogled in fascination all month behind the comfort of her phone screen.

Azriel was standing there and staring directly at her. No trepidation. No hint of shyness about him all. 

She couldn’t read his expression from so far away, but she could feel his eyes raking down her body - noticing her tight cobalt outfit. The skirt barely covered her most intimate areas and her crop top wrapped around the curve of her body as though it were tailored just for her. The fabric shimmered under the club lights, giving the illusion of moonlight on an ocean wave.  

His gaze sent electricity sparking up Gwyn’s spine. For the first time in a long time, she felt exposed under his attention. Once Azriel’s eyes met hers again, she remembered the reason they were in this predicament and turned her back to him - deciding to ignore the source of her current vexation for the rest of the night. 

Despite her best efforts to ignore him, Gwyn couldn’t help but feel Azriel’s piercing gaze on her back the entire time. 

She just ordered another round of shots from Balthazar, whose doting attention was not unnoticed. When the shot glasses of vodka arrived, she turned around to see Azriel sitting in a booth on the other side of the club with two people she hadn’t taken notice of before. The man was as large as a tank. His long hair was tied up in a messy bun and Gwyn could spot some black swirling tattoos peeking out from the open buttons of his black dress shirt. 

The woman, sitting on the other side of the long-haired man, was one of the most stunning women Gwyn had ever seen. Surely a model, her golden blonde hair fell in waves around her face and down her back. She was wearing a deep gold top that just barely covered her chest, with chains at the neck and back leaving her tanned skin utterly exposed. Her matching skirt had her shining like a gilded sunset.

“Looks like you have a secret admirer, Gwyn.” Nesta teased from beside her. 

Gwyn scowled in reply, content to follow out her plans to have fun and not think about work for a night. Or for that matter, a pair of hazel eyes that saw entirely too much and a broad muscular form that appeared as though it were carved by a Renaissance artist. Why did he have to be such an asshole? Gwyn hated him for it.

“His friends aren’t so bad to look at, either,” Emerie said. I turned to look at her and found her eying Azriel’s blonde friend with predatory intent. She smiled a little to herself. Although Gwyn was determined not to get any tonight, she wouldn’t stop her friends if they wished to partake in a one-night stand. 

Perhaps it was reckless, but Gwyn couldn’t help but stare Azriel in the eye as she took her shot, not bothering with a chaser. He leaned forward in his seat - his eyes tracking the small drop that seemed to escape Gwyn’s lips and ran down the side of her mouth. She wiped it with her thumb and sucked it off- refusing to let her gaze fall from his. Gwyn just winked at him and turned back to her friends. 

She hoped he felt the same lick of fire creep up her depths and ricochet through her spine. She wondered if the air had gone thick with heat and tension for him as well. But Gwyn didn’t chance another glance over to him. 

This was war, and she was determined to win. 

“Let's go dance.” Was all she said, and her friends followed in tow.

----- 

The dance floor was packed tonight. Rita’s was only a few blocks away from the university, so everyone was trying to make the most of their end of semester celebrations. The girls found their way to the middle of the dance floor and started jumping and swaying with the music. For a while, Gwyn forgot about the pair of hazel eyes that had been watching her all night. 

At some point, Nesta had spotted the man who had come with Azriel, and she left without a further glance at them. 

He was exactly her type: bold, dominant, and from the way he laughed, he was definitely a teddy bear at heart. Gwyn and Emerie started laughing to themselves at how the man’s jaw seemed to drop when he saw Nesta approaching him. When they approached each other, drifting as though attached to some magnetic force, the gaze they shared was so intimate, Gwyn almost looked away - but the liquor in her system had robbed her of that courtesy. 

“How much do you want to bet that Nesta will be waking up in his bed in the morning?” Emerie joked, yelling slightly over the loud music. 

“They are either going to hate each other or be inseparable. Time to start writing the wedding invitations now.” Gwyn yelled back. Both girls fell into a fit of giggles as they casually watched Nesta and man start dancing with each other at the edge of the dancefloor.

A few more songs passed by, and Gwyn was fully entranced by the music and tequila. She hadn’t had enough to be drunk, but she did have just enough to loosen her inhibitions. Maybe that was why she had teased Azriel relentlessly at the bar. Gwyn looked over to Emerie who seemed to be distracted, continuously staring at the blonde woman who had come with Azriel. It seemed the woman was staring at her right back. 

“Go shoot your shot, Em. I will be fine. I was hoping to leave in a few songs anyways.” Gwyn said with teasing encouragement. 

Emerie looked nervous, chewing on her lip as her eyes scanned Gwyn. “Are you sure? What if she isn’t into girls?”

Gwyn just squeezed her arm in gentle encouragement, “You will never know unless you go up to her and ask.” 

Emerie stayed until the end of the song, trying to dance away her nerves. When one song flowed into another, she said, “Ok. I’m going. Are you sure you are gonna get home safe?” Gwyn knew Emerie was just trying to stall the inevitable, so she just laughed in return. “I’ll be fine, Em. Go. I will text you and Nesta when I get home.” It was always their unspoken rule. Every time they went out, they would text the group where they were headed after the club. It also helped that the girls shared their phone locations with each other - just in case. 

Emerie took a deep breath and turned towards the booth where the blonde was sitting, only to find it empty now. Looking around confused, Gwyn couldn’t help but feel bad for Emerie when all of a sudden her friend turned behind her to find the blonde tapping her shoulder. 

“Want to dance?” The blonde said, a warm smile washing over her face as she held out her hand. 

Emerie took it without hesitation, “I would like that.” 

Gwyn waved them off as she continued to dance by herself, just enjoying the flow of the music through her veins. 

She told herself she would stay for two more songs, make sure her friends were ok, and then head home to change into sweats, eat ice cream, and stream Grey’s on Netflix thanks to Nesta sharing her account with Gwyn. 

Midway through the penultimate song, a pair of hands gripped onto Gwyn’s waist. They were rough and felt wrong. The man pulled himself close, trying to dance with Gwyn but she was not in the mood to be manhandled today. 

She tried to turn out of the man’s grip, to shuffle away with a swift turn to the beat, but the guy just squeezed her waist tighter and tighter until she was being pulled against her will. 

Memories flashed through Gwyn’s mind. 

Dancing at a freshman year frat party. Another man’s hands on her waist. Her saying no as he brought her into a spare bedroom and took what he wanted from her. 

Gwyn stood frozen in fear, unable to say anything. She knew self-defense, of course. She had met Nesta and Emerie at a self defense course for women who had been through trauma. But there were too many people around her and she didn’t want to risk hurting anyone else. 

She tried to pry the dude’s fingers off of her waist, but he just leaned in and whispered in her ear, “Want to go home with me tonight, princess? That pretty outfit would look even better on the floor of my bedroom.” 

Gwyn shuddered in absolute disgust. What kind of douche just asks if you want to sleep with him without even introducing himself?

“I’m good, thanks. I was actually just heading out. Have a good night.” Gwyn tried to escape his grasp again, but he just held tighter and started roaming his hands down her sides. 

“Come on, Princess. It will be fun. What do you say?” he said in her other ear. His beer breath bombarded her nose and all but made her gag. Gwyn just about had it with him and was about to damn the consequences, but suddenly those hands were jerked off of her. 

In a startled haze, Gwyn turned only to find Azriel pulling the man off of her by the collar of his shirt. “The lady said she isn’t interested.” Azriel all but growled at the guy. 

The guy stared up at Azriel and balked. Azriel stood a whole head taller than him, and the look on his face would send most people running in the opposite direction. 

Gwyn couldn’t help but think that that look was kinda hot. Couldn’t help but bite her lip as heat swam through her depths, replacing the icy nausea that had made a home there just moments ago. 

The guy just stared between Azriel and Gwyn in shock. He didn’t wait around, sparing her a scoff and leaving. Azriel turned to Gwyn, his dark gaze roaming over her. Looking to see if she was hurt, she realized. 

“Are you ok?” He asked, taking a step towards her. 

That set Gwyn into motion. She took a step back, flicked her hair over her shoulder in fake bravado, and said cooly, “I’m fine. Thanks for the help.” 

She turned over her shoulder and walked right out of the club and into the cool summer breeze. 

----

She was in the middle of texting the girls and calling an uber when the club doors swung open beside her. Azriel walked out the doors in a frantic huff. He turned frantically in place until he noticed her leaning against the brick storefront, then all but ran towards her in a frenzy. 

“What the hell!?” He said in a panicked voice. “Why did you leave? I was looking everywhere for you.” 

Something tickled Gwyn’s nerves. On the one hand, it was sweet that he was looking for her. So at odds with the asshole she had interviewed with last month. On the other hand… “Why? Just cause I am an escort doesn’t mean that you are entitled to my time.”

“I know, but-”

She cut him off before he could give some bullshit excuse. “You made it perfectly clear the last time we met that you wanted nothing to do with me. So what the fuck was all that inside?” She crossed her arms over her chest in frustration. 

Azriel cringed at her comment. He loosed a sigh and looked down. Closing his eyes for a moment, he took in a shaky breath before he opened them to meet hers. “I’m sorry for how I treated you that day. I’ve been going through a rough time. My friends set me up and although their intentions are good, I wasn’t in the right headspace. Would you let me take you somewhere so I can explain?” His eyes were pleading. He actually looked sincere. 

This emotional rollercoaster was taking Gwyn for a loop. She shook her head and scoffed. “I was just groped by a random dude in the club. What makes you think I want to go anywhere with you right now?” 

Azriel’s eyes darkened with rage. He kept it bottled in as he said, “At least let me take you home. Maybe grab some food on the way? I just want to explain. Start over.” 

Gwyn didn’t want to deal with this right now. She was at her wits end and just wanted to go home. “Why do you even care, Azriel? We met once, you were an ass, and life moved on. Just leave me be.”

Gwyn was done. 

She was done with men who thought they were entitled to her because she sold her time and body. But there were still hers. 

Hers to choose who to spend her time with.

Hers to choose when to give it. 

But always her choice. 

Gwyn started to turn to walk down the street and put some distance between her and Azriel, but he grabbed her wrist to stop her. His grip was light and she could easily shake him off if she wanted to but something inside her was telling her to stay. To listen. 

“Please, Gwyn. Just give me a chance to explain. If I can’t convince you to give me a second chance by the time I drop you off at home, you will never hear from me again. You can have anything you want, just- please.” 

Gwyn stared at his eyes, and whatever she saw there made her sigh in resignation. She could ask for anything. A lot of her problems could be fixed with that kind of offer. She pulled out her phone and texted Nesta and Emerie.

Gwyn:

Taking a detour on my way home. Be safe!

She clicked off her phone and looked Azriel in the eyes, “Lead the way then, Singer.”

#gwynriel #acotar #gwynriel supremacy #azriel shadowsinger #gwyneth berdara #azriel x gwyn #azriel #nessian #emorie #gwyn is making azriel crawl for her #he will eat out of the palm of her hand #Gwyn is so hot and azriel is so hot #acotar writing circle 3 #acotar writing circle #this was so fun to write

[amatchinwater]

Pairing: Steo

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Theo Raeken

Warnings: explicit sexual content, rough blow job, deep throat, cum eating, anal fingering, anal sex, cum as lube, possessive behavior

Words: 2562

Kinktober: Cum Play

Ao3 link Masterlist

---

Stiles isn’t really sure how he ended up here, to be perfectly honest. When the Alpha chimera texted him to come over, he was dead set on leaving him on read. But his body, betraying him since puberty, got out of bed and into his jeep. Now he’s sitting in Theo’s driveway at midnight, wondering what the fuck is wrong with him. 

It’s not like they’re mortal enemies or anything like that. But the chimera pack and the McCall pack are the flimsiest of allies. The only thing keeping them together was the prospect of defeating the Beast. Well, the Dread Doctors bit the big one before they could perfect their monster. So, there’s really no viable excuse left for the packs to like each other. Because it doesn’t erase Theo killing Scott, no matter how temporary. It doesn’t delete the memory of the now Alpha killing Josh right in front of Stiles. 

Every fact remains. Yet Stiles still showed up. Because he’s a masochist at heart. He loves pain and knows for damn sure that Theo will provide it. He’s never taken explicit care of Stiles, but he’s never been baselessly harmful either. Scraped knees when he shoved Stiles into the dirt because the human pushed him too far. A sore back from Theo slamming him into a wall because Stiles had the nerve to call the chimera’s bluff while flirting with him. Swollen lips and a bruised neck when he couldn’t fight himself anymore and let Theo make out with him in an empty hallway. 

But no matter what Theo did to him, Stiles enjoyed it. Though the chimera took his pain, other than the hickies, Stiles wore his marks with pride. Because all it took was an extensive shower and no one in his pack knew anything had happened. The scratches and bruises could easily be explained away from working on his jeep or his general clumsy nature. Because that’s the basis of the pain Stiles means. Theo isn’t something that he can just have. No matter how badly he may want the chimera. 

Well, have, yes. 

Keep? No. 

That doesn’t stop him from getting out of his jeep, walking up the driveway, and knocking on the Alpha’s front door. Stiles has no way of knowing if Theo actually cares about him or not. What his endgame is by sleeping with him. Heavily flirting with someone doesn’t mean that you want to be with them. Neither does wanting to fuck them. All Stiles does know is that at least for tonight, he wants the chimera. However much he can get.

When Theo opens the door, he looks relaxed as ever while the human is trying to calm down his speed racing heart. Moments away from having a panic attack from showing up here. Too many unanswered questions bouncing around his skull.

“I wasn’t sure you were actually going to get out of the car,” Theo smirks, opening the door further for the human to step inside. 

It’s a valid point. When Stiles pulled up, it wasn’t midnight. It was only eleven-thirty. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to talk himself into or out of being here. “I can still go back home,” Stiles retorts halfway through the threshold, opting for sarcasm to attempt to keep himself guarded. Aloof. Feigning nonchalance to not show just how badly he wants Theo.

The chimera’s hand wraps around his wrist, pulling him the rest of the way into the house. “I don’t think so,” Theo chuckles, closing the door only to push Stiles against it, pinning him with his body. “I’d hate for you to have wasted the drive,” is all the chimera says before his lips claim the human’s. He pushes his knee between Stiles’ legs, grinding into the space until the human moans through their kiss. Theo’s hands curl into his waist, “you certainly smell like you want to be here, sweetheart,” he says, nipping down Stiles’ jaw to lick at his pulse. 

“Don’t have to be so smug about it,” the human huffs, digging into the Alpha’s shoulders, kicking his shoes off. 

“Yeah, but you like when I’m smug,” Theo effortlessly lifts the human by his thighs, wrapping his legs around him. “Don’t you?” The Alpha nudges their noses together to make Stiles look at him, “you can lie if you want to, babe. I’ll still know the truth.”

Babe.

Stiles’ face twists at the way the name makes his heart skip a beat. “Shut the fuck up,” he whispers, slamming his lips against the Alpha’s. He knows the chimera loves to tease, but he can't handle pet names being thrown around without any backbone to them. 

Theo chuckles against him, but doesn’t bite back. Only slips his tongue into the human’s mouth, guiding them up the stairs. Stiles scratches at Theo’s back when the chimera sucks his bottom lip and bites it. Before he knows it, Stiles’ back hits the bed, the Alpha easily claiming his spot between the human’s legs. His hands fumble with the hem of Theo’s shirt, groaning in annoyance at his lack of coordination from his haste to remove the offensive garment. 

Snickering, the chimera breaks the kiss to help him take it off, removing Stiles’ as well. The human is in a haze when Theo’s lips find his again, kissing his brain cells away. Stiles barely even notices that the Alpha’s managed to get both of their pants off too. Left in only the thin layer of their boxers, the human whines at their erections rubbing together. The friction muddling his already fuzzy mind. It just feels too fucking good and Stiles doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

Good thing Theo’s more than comprehensive at the moment. Leaning back, the Alpha removes the boxers just this side of shredding them off. Utterly naked in front of the chimera, Stiles’ cheeks burn in embarrassment. Until Theo gently smacks his hands away from covering himself up. Growling, “so fucking pretty,” as his eyes flicker red. “Bet you’d look even prettier with your lips wrapped around my cock. That sound good, sweetheart?” Theo asks, lazily strokes his dick.

Stiles’ mouth fills with drool at the bud of precum from the action. “Fuck,” he chokes on the word, “yeah, yeah it does.” Watching Theo crawl over him with a smirk plastered to his face is a fucking sight to be treasured. The moment the chimera’s thighs are encasing his head, Stiles can’t help himself but to bite at the flesh. Theo’s thighs are a gift to humanity and should be treated as such if you ask him. 

“Open,” the Alpha’s mouth curls ever so slightly at the edges, pressing the head of his leaking cock against Stiles’ lips. Smearing the precum around, he growls softly, eyes searing red. “That’s it,” Theo purrs when the human opens his mouth, tongue flattened in waiting. Toying with him for a moment, the chimera taps his dick on Stiles’ tongue. "Pinch my leg if it's too much." His only warning before thrusting all the way to the back of the human’s throat. 

Tears prickle his eyes while Stiles fights the gag. It happens anyway and Theo pulls back enough for him to catch his breath before he does it again. And again. Fucking his throat with a fierceness that Stiles didn’t really know he’d like. But he is absolutely on board with it. Maybe a sore throat in the morning will be something he can have to remind him that this isn’t a dream. Though temporary, he can remember his time with Theo for a bit before tucking the feeling back into the shadows. 

Especially because the sound of Theo’s growled moans aren’t something Stiles is going to be capable of forgetting anytime soon. The Alpha thrusts get faster, haphazard. Filling the human with an intense need to have Theo cum in his mouth. Like yesterday. Stiles needs the taste to singe his tongue. He needs to know what Theo tastes like more than he needs air. So he tucks his teeth behind his lips and does his best to meet the chimera’s thrusts. 

“Fuck, Stiles,” Theo moans, fisting into the top of his hair. Stiles moans at the treatment, working overtime. “So, fucking, good,” he accentuates the words with harsh, pointed movements. But all too quickly, Theo pulls out of his mouth. Stiles gasps for air, watching with hooded eyes as Theo strokes himself until he’s covering Stiles’ chest and stomach with his cum. 

He said he wanted to taste it, dammit. It didn't even reach his chin. 

Stiles doesn’t even bother stifling his indignant whine. 

Theo lets out a breathless chuckle, “don’t worry, babe. There’s plenty,” he says. Hovering over him, the Alpha reaches his cum covered fingers towards Stiles’ mouth, “clean them up.” The human moans around the taste in his mouth, sucking the Alpha’s fingers gratefully. Theo’s free hand gathers more of his cum, reaching underneath Stiles to tease at the tight ring of muscle. Slick with his release, the finger slides inside with next to no resistance. 

It doesn’t even burn enough for Stiles to wince. Maybe it does, a little, but he’s too focused on cleaning off the chimera’s fingers to actually care. To be frank, the sinful squelch of Theo adding another finger echoes in his ears so loudly that he doesn’t hear whatever praise or light tease the Alpha had said. He merely bites down on the hand trying to leave his mouth. 

A harsh jab to his prostate makes the human cry out, releasing his hold on the Alpha who tuts, “don’t be greedy.” Theo grins, rubies burning brightly, “I told you, I have plenty. You’ll get all of it, promise.” The chimera rumbles in his chest, pulling his fingers out to lick them clean. 

Three to be exact. 

Stiles had been so distracted by the taste of Theo’s cum on his tongue that he didn’t notice the third being added. Or the feeling of the Alpha stretching him open. How the fuck did he not notice that? Is this just an addition to the pain he’s asking for? That the chimera is like a drug to him and he’s only going to crave him once he’s gone? Well, at least he’s going to enjoy the hell out of it while he has it. 

“Theo,” Stiles mutters for the sake of having something to say. Reaching out to grab for the Alpha. To his surprise, with the hand not aiming his cock at Stiles’ ass, he takes hold of the human’s hand, tangling their fingers together. “Dont,” he clenches the hand in his, the chimera teasing his dick at Stiles’ entrance. Poking the head in just to bring it back out. “Please, I can’t take it. Just- fuck,” he draws out the word on a lengthy moan, Theo pushing deep inside of him. 

“Fuck me, you feel good,” the chimera growls mostly to himself. Still holding his hand, Theo slams it on the pillow, using it as leverage to pull out to the tip and slam back in. A loud moan punches its way out of Stiles when the Alpha keeps doing it. Harsh thrusts that make starts burst behind his pinched eyes. “So perfect, Stiles. Warm. Tight,” the Alpha aims straight for the bundle of nerves, ramming into it with a purpose. 

With his brain so fuzzy with thoughts of only the Alpha, Stiles almost misses the chimera reach between them to rub his previous release into his skin. “What- fuck,” he groans, the lewd gesture shooting straight to his own neglected dick. Leaking and throbbing painfully against his stomach. “What are you doing?” 

“Marking you with my scent,” the chimera states simply, as if he’d told the human what the weather was like outside. But the possessiveness in his red eyes shines through, even to Stiles’ glassy, unfocused whiskey ones. “Rub my cum into your skin and then fill you up with it. That way everyone will know it was me you gave yourself to.” 

Stiles makes a strangled whine in the back of his throat, caught between loving the idea and being absolutely terrified of it. Not twenty minutes ago was he thinking about how he’d like to keep Theo, but doesn’t think he could given the situation of their packs. “What?” Is all he manages to breathe out, the chimera’s skillful thrusts to the bundle of nerves deep inside him killing all thought processing. 

“No going back now, sweetheart,” Theo grunts through his efforts. “You’re mine,” he snarls, thrusting faster than ever. Pounding into Stiles’ prostate and before he knows it, the human’s own cum splatters his chest and stomach, covering what Theo had just rubbed in. He screams his moan. “Look at you, cuming untouched. Yeah,” the Alpha scoffs his laugh, pulling back to the tip to slam back inside. “You’re mine,” Theo growls through his moan, filling Stiles with his thick, hot cum. “Can’t cover that scent, babe,” the chimera whispers against the human’s mouth. Kissing the final remnants of breath Stiles had. 

Sated and fuller than ever before, Stiles groans softly when Theo pulls out. Eyes too lazy to open, he assumes the chimera moving back is to get something to clean him off with. It isn’t until something brushes against his ass that Stiles realizes that’s far from the truth. Whipping his head up, the human watches the Alpha finger his cum back in his ass, not letting a single drop spill out. “You-” Stiles cuts himself off with a gasp, Theo leaning down to lick the human’s cum off his chest. 

Rumbling in his chest as he does, “gotta make sure it’s in there deep,” Theo brushes his fingers against his prostate. Stiles’ lungs betray him with another moan. His own dick twitching, trying desperately to be ready for more. He whines, pushing closer and closer to overstimulation the more the chimera lazily pumps his fingers. 

“Okay, sweetheart,” Theo kisses him softly, taking his fingers out and coming up beside him. “I’m done,” he growls, curling Stiles to his chest. “You smell more like me than I do,” the Alpha teases, tracing lines along the human’s spine. 

Stiles freezes, bliss melting away being replaced with anxiety, “but my pack-”

“Probably won’t take you back,” Theo shrugs like it’s nothing. “Not that it matters,” he holds Stiles tighter, the human jolting at his previous words. “Your place is here, Stiles. I’ve been telling you that since the beginning. If I were you, I’d get some rest,” the Alpha kisses his hair. “I didn’t leave a single mark on your neck and I plan to fix that,” Theo rumbles in his chest, “sleep while you can. Our pack will be here in the morning with much needed breakfast.”

“Our pack?” Stiles asks, mind reeling with every bit of information just given to him. 

None of it a question either. Not that it needed to be. Theo knows how to read him better than anyone. Like always. The Alpha merely told him the answer to every question he’d refused to voice for who knows how long. Probably since the chimera came back to town if Stiles allows himself a shred of honesty. Theo only hums in agreement. The reassurance has him curling closer to the Alpha’s chest, smiling at the approved growl it earns him.

#steo #stiles stilinski #theo raeken #theo x stiles #stiles x theo #teen wolf #kinktober vol. 2 #Match Writes

[tripleaxelrose]

One-Shot #1: Blackmail

Here's the original prompt; thank you to whoever sent it!

Nathan and Mariah reveal their relationship to the world (officially) via an Instagram post. A little trepidation goes into this post, but they're pretty confident and happy with the announcement once they officially post it. A few "congrats" and "I knew it" comments from other skaters litter the comments section.

He sees it pop up in his messages just as they are going to bed, him hunched over his phone, elbows on his knees -- a bad nighttime habit. Her bare-faced, makeup off, hands in her hair yanking it up into a ponytail as she paces between the bathroom and the bed in a pair of his boxers and a USA Olympics t-shirt, chattering about six different things at once, the burst of energy she always gets late at night. He's the opposite. The tug of sleep, his body unknotting and winding down while she's revving up, asking him rapid-fire questions that he can only ever manage to answer in monosyllables.

Their internal clocks are always slightly misaligned, but he likes it. He knows that he benefits in very specific ways from her pre-bedtime inspirations, the rushes of energy that, as long as she actually makes it under the covers at some point, she's all too happy to expend on his tired body. He doesn't have to work very hard. She doesn't seem to mind. It's nice.

But tonight, he can't even manage the monosyllables. Not after he sees it. A user name he doesn't recognize. A subject line that, on most nights, he would have just deleted or ignored. But something about it moves him to click.

"Yuzu says hey."

He clicks the link and a video flickers into motion. He feels a dull lurch of recognition, then, in the next instant, an unexpected bolt of arousal. 

He knows exactly what video it is, of course, because he's the one who shot it. This one and others like it. On this very phone. He sees their too-familiar bodies, grainy in low light -- her pale breasts, the angle of his knee, his fingertips pressing into the flesh of her back.

He assumes, at first, that something in the phone has gone haywire. Or he hit a wrong button, opened a screen that he needs to hide better in the future -- keep it farther from the reach of his fumbling fingers. Something. He pauses the video, closes the screen, gives the phone a half-hearted shake. And then he knows. He knows so quickly that it steals the breath from his chest.

He opens the  app again, the same one as before, his hands shaking now. The message is still there. Only this time, he notices the note underneath the video link. The short, neat lines.

"$3 million. You have 24 hours."

They want it in bitcoin. Two separate drops in irregular amounts, 35 minutes apart.

He lets the phone slip through his fingers. It falls to the carpet at his feet, not making a sound.

She's still talking, running down a list of things she needs to pick up at the grocery store because they're hosting on Friday night and they're out of basically everything.

"Mariah."

She keeps going, a tooth brush in her hand now.

"Mariah."

She is still holding the toothbrush when he tells her, when she sinks onto the edge of the bed, too shaky to stand, her eyes wide with fear.

They do not sleep. They lie on the bed, awake, all the lights on.

*

The office is just opening when they reach downtown Los Angeles, the day already too warm, the heat rising in waves from the sidewalks and glinting off the glass skyscrapers. It takes too long to park.

Hours earlier at home, they dress, both of them silent. They don't have to speak to understand that they need to look like adults. No sweats. No warmups. She picks out a flowered dress that he's only seen her wear at her parents' house, twists her hair into a bun. He opts for a pair of dark jeans and a pullover.

When the secretary sees their faces, looks at the time, she sends them directly in.

*

If Clara is surprised, she does not let it show. It is early and the lines of her suit are pressed into daggers. She has not even had her coffee.

But then, he thinks, she does not ever let very much show. She has seen a lot, with him and with her other, higher-profile clients. The stalkers. The haters who wish him all kinds of illness and injury and keep none of it to themselves. A few weird gifts left at his parents' house. But this? This is different.

She sits with her arms folded, her dark eyebrows knit into a straight line as he tells the story. She betrays neither shock nor judgement as she nudges her tortoise shell glasses up her nose.

Mariah sits behind him, her face pale pale, more serious and silent than he has ever seen her, her back straight in her chair. When his explanation starts to ramble into a panicked loop of worry, she cuts him off.

"So what do we do? Tell us the options."

Clara takes a breath. "Well, you call the police. And you sue."

"Good," he says, a wave of relief washing over him. The solution is simple. Straightforward. It would be in the hands of the law.

"Yeah, but how long will that take? These freaks are going to put this thing on the internet tonight, and we don't even know who they are," says Mariah. He realizes then, watching the resolute tilt of her chin, that she's right. Another wave, this time of terror.

He watches as Clara shifts in her seat, eyes the immaculate surface of her desk. Behind her, the city skyline winks behind a layer of haze. "You always have two other options available to you. You pay the money.  Or you don't."

"What happens if we don't?" says Mariah, before Clara can even complete the sentence.

"I imagine that there will be a sex tape of you on every corner of the internet by morning."

He feels her grip on his hand tighten.

"We'll find the money," he says. "We'll figure it out." In this moment, he has no idea how they will do either of those things.

"No," says Mariah with a terse shake of her head. "We shouldn't have to figure it out. We didn't do anything wrong."

This is when Clara takes a deep breath. "There is possibly another option. But it's up to you."

*

They write it themselves, they insist, hunched over a borrowed laptop in an empty office down the hall from Clara's. It is short, just a few lines. Impossibly sweet. The word love is mentioned in passing. It takes longer to choose the photo -- one they took on vacation in Cancun. They look happy, smiling, arms around each other in front of a leafy palm.

Clara vets all of it, checking their grammar and debating word choice. They hit the share button at the same time on their respective phones, both of them shaking, but especially him. Mariah seems steadier, ready. When it's done, she laughs for a solid minute, maniacal and a little unhinged, drops her phone in her purse, then doubles over in her chair, head in her hands, sobbing.

He hands over his phone to Clara, wishing he could hurl it into the Pacific instead.

Neither of them has the stomach, or the expertise, to do the other upload themselves. They leave it to a tech guy on Clara's staff who has signed an NDA. They don't even ask where he's posting it. It doesn't matter where. It just matters that it's done. The tech guy clicks once and it's over. They beat the deadline by six hours.

He never sees the response that comes from his account, that is signed in his name. The tech guy is too smart for that, deleting the footprints as he makes them.

"Why would I pay you $3 million for something that's already online for free?"

A link. A long string of characters pointing to a porn site -- not an obvious one. Just anonymous enough. It buys them some time. The tech guy especially likes the salutation he chooses, right before he clears the history, makes it invisible to everyone but the recipient. It's a nice touch. A little ironic.

"Fuck off. -Nathan."

*

They hear from their friends first. First in the comments, then on their phones. (His has been wiped and restored to factory settings courtesy of the tech guy, new passwords installed everywhere. All the videos gone, he is maybe a little sad, at first, to discover. Then he is relieved.)

We knew it!

Congrats!

I mean, you two are obviously the cutest.

Worst-kept secret ever.

Then they hear from everyone else, or rather, everyone else tries to make themselves heard. There are reactions. There are reactions to the reactions. They don't look at any of it. People Magazine calls. Clara sends a photo but declines the interview.

Their parents, all four, are mostly confused. Why did they make an announcement? Everyone knows, don't they? What is there to announce? They shake their heads, not understanding the new rules.

They hold hands at the grocery store for the first time, her carefully selecting cheeses for Friday. They don't care who sees them.

They go home. They pour wine. Their guests arrive. And they wait.

#nathan chen #mariah bell #nathan x mariah #my fic #oneshot #chenbell #chenbell but dark

[olympiansally]

Ok so uuhhh... remember how i linked my insta here?

Well ksiwjaisiaidia i think i might have a praise thing i need to look into LMAO

Which like, when will i finally be allowed to have a personality that is not just Light Yagami without the murder???

#yes it’s a joke but also... maybe not #jsjejajwjaisjswiakis HELP #but really will i ever be more than just murder boy minus murder? #like if you’re gonna be Light at least kill some fools yk? #lmao #but yeah anyway #i will be deleting the link tonight before i go to sleep! #so this is your last chance to turn me into a blushing incoherent mess ksiwiwjdiwkaisi #that’s all thanks for the attention 😳😅 #anyway if i can’t be insane and embarrassing here... where?

[messofhell]

HANMA SHŪJI - ARE WE DATING?

note: so, this is mainly a draft of something i wrote for hanma that was meant to be fluff. like, from childhood/best-friends to lovers, but my brain is kind of drawing a blank on how to finish it, so yeah😩 it really pisses me off because i was really inspired at the beginning😤 it was also supposed to be a fluff version of borrowing their clothes, which is why it's kinda similar to the suggestive one here but, ughh

edit: after a lot of thinking about whether i should delete the suggestive one or not, i've decided to make it private instead. if i understood well how it works, you should still be able to check it with the link in note above. but, i really don't like what i wrote and there's a possibility it will just vanish at some point. so, sorry and thank you to all of those that liked it even though i don't😖

chara(s): hanma

wn: none? besides the fact it's mostly a draft

His steps were heavy as they led him to your house, sight slightly blurry as he wondered if he would make it there. The thugs he fought earlier were not that strong, but they did get a few good hits in, ones that were making his head swirl as he arrived in front of your door, right hand leaning against the wall to support himself while he used the other to knock.

"Haaa... s'been a while since I felt like this..."

All the adrenaline from the fight had left his body and now he was just plain tired, on top of his head pounding like crazy. At first, he'd planned to go to his girlfriend's house, to fuck it out like he had so many times before that, but right now, all he wanted was to lay the fuck down and sleep. He didn't want to deal with all the screeching she would put him through for coming to her place with all the bruises. As easy as it was to shut her up, he just didn't feel like it tonight. That's why he was here... in front of your door.

"Hanma? That you?" your voice was muffled and he assumed you were peeking through the peephole, noting his battered state. "Wait a sec."

Once the door opened, instead of a frown or an offended look, he was met with a familiar amused smile. Now that you got a better look at him your eyes sized him up from head to toe, stopping at his face to scoff. But, just as you were about to speak up, he dropped all his weight on you, causing you to almost fall back as he laid his chin on your shoulder, grinning lazily.

"Let me in?" he drawled, grin widening when your hands found their way on his shoulders so he wouldn't crush you completely and he whispered into your ear. "I'll be good~"

He didn't miss the shivers that ran down your spine, neither did he miss the way your grip tightened, but as much as he wanted to keep messing with you, he found it hard to focus.

Not gonna last much longer...

You probably thought he dropped himself on you on purpose, but really, he was feeling so light-headed that his legs just gave up on him, causing him to stumble forward. He was thankful you were right there because the last thing he wanted was to crash on the ground and give you a reason to nag him for years. Your hand moved down to his chest and pushed him off enough so you could see his face, but still let him lean on you. You made a show of rolling your eyes and flicked his forehead lightly, your touch more of a tap to not hurt him too much and he snorted at your next words.

"It's be easier to do that if you weren't all over me, beanpole."

You maneuvered to have his arm draped over your own shoulder as you pulled him inside, not forgetting to kick the door shut behind you with your foot, but as you were about to lay him down on the couch, he pressed more of his weight on you and, before you knew it, you were laying on the couch with Hanma on top of you, his nose against your neck.

"Jus' lemme stay like this, (F/n)..." he nuzzled your neck, exhaling in content, your first name easily rolling off his tongue in his daze.

He could feel your pulse accelerating to the way he called you, this being the first time he used your first name to address you. And, if it weren't for the fact he couldn't see your face, he'd even notice the smile that settled on your lips as you tangled your fingers in his hair, your soft touch soothing his headache some. Soothing to the point he finally gave in to his intentions by coming here and fell asleep. That and his eyes just wouldn't stay open any longer. When you were sure he couldn't hear you, you sighed and mumbled.

"Dumbass, messing with my feelings like that..."

You pressed a kiss on his head, rolling your eyes for being so soft with him, then leaned your head back on the armrest. Hanma was always so hard to read. It was hard to tell the truth from lies with him and, honestly, you'd given up on trying, knowing that if he really wanted you to know something, he'd tell you eventually. Yet, the way he felt about you, he was always so damn vague about it. Even though he was dating someone else, he acted as if you two were the actual couple, which was one of the many reasons his past and probably current girlfriend broke and will break up with him for. 'Stupid' you mumbled again as sleep slowly caught up to you as well.

#hanma shuji #shuji hanma #hanma shuji x reader #shuji hanma x reader #hanma shuji x y/n #shuji hanma x y/n #hanma shuji x you #shuji hanma x you #tokyo revengers #tkrv #tokyo revengers x reader #tkrv x reader #mostly a draft

[sillyrabbit81]

Milestone Celebration Part Three: Attached

Deleted scenes from Attached

Summary of Original Fic: You get paired with Sy in a drinking game, your mutual attraction is immediate, so what happens by the end of the night?

Pairing of Original Fic: Captain Syverson x Female Reader

Word Count: Approx. 950

Warnings: smut, fluff, angst

Authors Note: These snippets will be presented pretty much as I left them, incomplete and unedited. I’m bloody nervous about posting these, I guess because they are so unpolished, so please be gentle with me!

Another fic with only a few rewrites, but I thought you all might find them interesting. Thanks to @amberangel112 the original beta on this fic. It turned out so much better than I thought it would because of her input.

Masterlist

Milestone Celebration Masterlist

Original fic link: Attached

Snippet One

You noticed him the moment you walked into the bar, how could you not? He stood out being taller than average, larger than most men, but it was his aura that set him apart from most, that quiet air of calm, self-assuredness that most men lacked. But what made him unforgettable was that just as your eyes locked onto him as soon as you walked in the room, his locked onto you. And it seemed like they never left. It was pure lust at first sight.

Tearing your eyes away from his, you shrugged off your jacket as you sat at the table with your three friends. You sat with your back to him trying to put him out of your mind. You weren’t looking for a hook up tonight, you were here to celebrate your friend Aida’s divorce. If anyone was getting lucky tonight, it was going to be her.

Snippet Two

You stared at the dog tags in your hand. You resented them; it was a stupid game. It reminded you of those gross stories you heard about swinger’s parties where the men would drop their keys into a bowl and the women would sleep with whoever’s keys they drew out. What was this guy going to think of you that you would even play this game? What would he expect from you? You hoped for his sake he expected nothing because you were about two seconds from walking out the door.

You hadn’t even needed to draw them; he was the only one out of the five whose tag hadn’t been drawn yet. You already knew you were stuck with him for the rest of the night, so it had seemed pointless, but the rest of the table had insisted. You felt embarrassed, angry at your so-called friends for suggesting this game. It wasn’t that you were against hooking up, it was the way you felt like a plate of steaks and sausages at a meat raffle that had you all riled up.

Congratulations, you won a “Noah H. Syverson.”

“Just call me Sy,” he said. “Everyone does.”

Giving him a wane smile, you handed him back his tags. You barely looked at him, instead stared into your drink. You felt like you didn’t need to look at him, all the guys looked the same; tall, muscular, broad shouldered, and arrogant in a way that made you feel insignificant.

He tried small talk, asked your name, what you did for work, where you were from. You answered shortly, not obviously rude but not too politely either. You glanced at your friends, they seemed to be getting along well with their… whatever they were. Partners? Some were dancing, some were sitting on the guys' laps. They all seemed to be having a great time and you felt like you were bringing the whole place down. The bar was pumping, music flowing, everyone having a blast and then there was you and the poor guy you were stuck with.

You drank the last of your drink and finally looked your soldier in the eyes to apologise for being boring and telling him you were going to head home. Your words failed you as you got caught in his gaze. His eyes were so blue, and one of them had a brown spot that only caused you to stare longer. His eyes were kind, intelligent, mischievous and you had to clear your throat before you could speak.

“I’m going to go home,” you said. Your words sounded weak though. You couldn’t look away from him as you took in his other features, his short, very short dark hair, his beard which looked like it could use a trim, his strong jaw and cheekbones, and his lips looked soft and inviting as he sucked them into his mouth briefly before he spoke.

“How about you stay, for at least one more drink and give me a chance to show ya why I should go home with you.”

Snippet Three

You were last to pick, so it didn’t make sense to pick the dog tags out of the hat, you already knew who you were paired with. The group insisted you do it anyway. Your fingers wrapped around the small, stamped, black rubber ringed metal plates, and read the small letters.

The tags were snatched out of your hands. “Hey!” you cried, turning to Sy and pouting. He grinned at you as he put the tags back round his neck and tucked them into his shirt.

“You ain’t findin’ out my first name that easy, Sugar.”

“You’re no fun,” you said petulantly, folding your arms across your chest and pretending to be upset. The image was ruined by the huge smile you just couldn’t hide.

You liked Sy almost immediately, feeling drawn to him more than the other soldiers. Although at first sight you found him attractive, he was also very intimidating, his size alone was enough to make most people wince. But within a few minutes, you got past his intimidating appearance. He had a mischief about him, a flirtatiousness that was bold but not creepy.

“I’m a lotta fun, Darlin’,” Sy says. He winks at you, and you giggle. It was more of an uncoordinated blink than a wink, and somehow his clumsiness was even sexier than it would have been if he’d winked properly. “Play your cards right and you just might find out.”

Outwardly you scoff, pretending you’re not interested. But inside you were on fire and very interested. Sy knew you were too, he saw through your game, but he played along, seeming to find the whole thing amusing.

#captain sy #captain syverson #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill #syverson fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #captain syverson x reader #sillyrabbit81 milestone celebration

[after-witch]

Baby Mine [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Title: Baby Mine [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Synopsis:  The first time you laid eyes on your child, you knew: You had to get out. Set in the ‘White Picket Fence’-verse. 

For request: Something with Overhaul + the reader’s children and manipulation (I’m sorry I accidentally deleted the original message so I don’t remember the exacting wording!)

Word Count: 3328

notes: yandere, stockholm syndrome, abuse

From the instant you laid eyes on your daughter, the moment your gaze took in her fresh, wet skin and her small, blinking, uncomprehending eyes, you knew: you had to get the fuck away from Chisaki Kai.

The realization was instant, like a flash, peeling away years of manipulation and training and forced self-acceptance of your situation. Years of justifications and excuses that had wormed their way under your skin, forcing you to see the bright side, to see his side, and let yourself get wrapped up in its candy-coated, fluffy cotton bullshit--gone, ripped away with brutal, exacting force. All that was left was the stark realization, a single driving force shoving you forward: you and your daughter were going to get out.

That was four years ago.

Four years of agonizing pretending. Of forcing yourself to put back on the coat you'd worn before, the false version of yourself that loved him and accepted him and excused everything he ever did to you. It was hard. It was harder to pretend that you accepted this than to actually accept it, to indulge in his control. But every time your resolve weakened, it only took a glance at your child to remind you of why you couldn't just give in.

You had to get out, not for yourself, but for her. To give her a normal life. A life where she could be free, where she could have friends, where she could run outside and not be limited to the house or, if the weather was nice, the secure, high-fenced backyard that Kai had only built within the last year.

Four years of pretending. Four years of planning. And, most difficult of all, four years of waiting. Trust was not easily given by Chisaki Kai, even to the mother of his child.

So you waited.

You waited for Kai to move you two--no, three now--into a house, a real house; not in a populated suburb (another broken promise that you swallowed deep, deep down) but an offshoot of some protected compound in a remote area, where it could be secure and guarded. But what mattered is that its doors connected to the outside, not to some unknown underground bunker.  You could manage, if you were connected to the outside.

You waited for Kai to ease up on the restrictions that built up around you during your pregnancy, rules to keep you under a far more watchful eye, rules that made it harder to find a way out. Inches of trust, gradually earned, which made it possible for you to think concretely about escape.

You waited for your daughter to get old enough to run, old enough to survive without needing to be fed every few hours, old enough to know how to stay quiet when told. Watching her grow up only made you want to leave, more. She had a personality now. Stubborn but accepting when she knew she wouldn’t win; sweet in her own way, an unusual way, likely one that came from a lack of interaction with anyone but her parents and a handful of trusted Shie Hassaikai members.

It was one of those trusted members--you never have learned their name, a secret Kai (nor they) were willing to give--that would be your key to escape.

 They loved your daughter, too, in time. They were drawn in by her precociousness, her insistence on formalities and pleases and thank-yous. But it was her bubbliness and inherent interest in the world and people around her that made them decide to love her, too.Her big eyes and bubbling laugh when you two were allowed in the yard, sometimes under this member’s supervision. 

To your daughter’s delight, they didn’t simply watch you like the handful of others did; they joined in the fun. Just a few weeks ago, she’d convinced him to push her so high on the swing set that she’d gone all the way around--even your heart briefly froze until she’d emerged on the other side, cackling with delight, safe and sound.

They were loyal to Overhaul. Of that there was no doubt. Had they killed for him? Maimed? Tortured? You tried not to think about the things that were done in Overhaul’s name.

Yet they’d betrayed him, all for the sake of your daughter. Part of you feels bitter that they wouldn’t betray him for the sake of you--but then, what was that saying? Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

It was with their help that you were finally able to secure that last necessary piece of the puzzle for your escape: getting out of the secured, monitored gate surrounding the house unnoticed. He told you in hushed, intense tones that he would be on watch duty the night of your escape, that he would take care of the other member assigned that night, and that all you had to do was get out the door at the agreed time with your bag, your daughter, and a good pair of walking shoes. He would drive you as far as he could, and then you two would run, run, run after that.

It was going to work. Your daughter was going to live her life, a real life, not one carefully constructed in captivity. What would you do first, once you were free? The thoughts sometimes made you so giddy that you pinched yourself to calm down. So close, so close to the finish line, and you must be vigilant.

Tonight. You and your daughter are going to leave tonight.

Your daughter is in her bed, tucked in safe and secure. Her eyes are already closed, and Kai is sitting at the edge of the mattress, as always, smoothing down her hair and pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead. You watch from the doorway with your arms casually crossed, a small, tired, end-of-the-night smile on your lips. It's all so normal, so domestic, isn't it.

"Good night," he says, so soft and sweet that, if you hadn't been pulled out of your deluded coping mechanism, you might find it endearing. Instead, your thoughts scream: This will be the last time you ever see her, you fucked up piece of shit bastard. Oh, do you have a potty mouth when your 'husband' can't hear you...

He leaves your daughter to her dreams and clicks off the little lamp on her nightstand. When he crosses the doorway, you make room and he lets you slide your arm around his, linking yourselves together for the walk to your shared bedroom.

"Tired?" He asks, and you nod. You are tired. Not for the reasons he thinks, and not for the reasons you'll give, but the telltale darkness under your eyes belies the stress of planning your escape from a years-long ordeal.

You sigh, as soft and sweet as his voice was earlier. "Mmhmm. She didn't want to focus on her lessons today. I got a bit frustrated. Sometimes I don't think I'm cut out to be a teacher." By now you're in your bedroom and you casually take off your day clothes, dropping them in the labeled hamper in front of the closet. Your stomach twinges with the memory of how he used to look away when you took off your clothes.

But that was long ago, and now he continues the conversation casually as the pair of you strip and change into your respective pajamas. You slip a pink nightie with ruffled bottom over your head as he

"You just need more practice. Are you reading the lesson books before you start class?"

I wouldn't have to read any lesson books if you let her out of this house, if you let her out of school, if you weren't--you stop your thoughts, afraid that they might show on your face. Afraid that you might lose everything at this last, crucial moment.

But you know you look frustrated, so you roll with it. "Yes," you say, voice just the right amount of annoyed in retort. "But if she doesn't want to sit down and focus, me reading the lesson beforehand isn't really going to help, is it?"

He stares at you, and you wonder in a flash if you went too far. But in the next moment, he's simply continuing to button up his shirt. "Is it going to help our daughter learn if you take out your bad day on your husband?" His voice is dripping with the natural condescension that once had you questioning whether or not it was okay to be upset that he'd kidnapped you, and you hate it. But at least it's a sign that he bought your excuses.

You feel a warm flush of shame at the way his condescension still makes you feel less-than. You slide yourself into bed, under the covers, instinctively grabbing the book on your end table and staring down into it like you could simply disappear inside the pages. You can't mess up anything right now. The weight of what you need to do tonight feels so heavy and you can't stop your hands from trembling slightly.

"Sorry," you whisper, voice thick with emotion. "It's just hard sometimes. I feel in over my head."

It's Kai's turn to slide under the covers, though he doesn't bother grabbing his own book. Instead he gently pushes on your hands until you set the book on the covers. You know he wants you to look at him, so you do. He looks so gentle, so calm. Did he kill anyone today? Did he insult some hapless victim who crossed his organization, spewing venom with his words, before kissing your daughter goodnight hours later?

His gloved hands tip your chin up and it's a familiar feeling, an intimate feeling, when he pulls you in for a kiss. When he pulls away, he's smiling softly, indulgently. You aren't in trouble. You're good.

"I'll come home for lessons tomorrow and see what I can do. Would you like that?"

I'd like you to drop dead and make this easier on us, you think.

"Yes, Kai."

You smile. You nod. You let out a shaky sigh and lean your shoulders against his, picking up your book and signaling an end to the crisis. He lets you read quietly for a while before turning off the lamp on his side of the bed; it's a wordless signal that you already know: time to sleep. You're a dutiful wife and you put your book away and turn off your lamp and then turn back to your husband and whisper,

"Good night, Kai."

**

You wait until he's deep asleep to ease your way out of the bed. Every step you take in your padded socks makes you cringe. Will the floor creak? Will you make too much noise? Will you have to come up with a half-assed excuse as he comes to, groggily asking what you're doing? You feel like you can't breathe, but you do breathe, soft and shallow as you make your way to the bedroom door.

 You didn't dare keep anything related to your escape in your shared bedroom. The door feels like it weighs a thousand pounds as you ever-so-slowly open it, keeping your head turned towards the man sleeping on the bed all the while. He doesn't stir. He simply continues to snore, even as the door opens enough for you to slip out.

Your heart is pounding in your chest as you cross the hallway and into the spare room that you used as a playroom and, lately, a makeshift school. The bag you packed is in the closet, tucked behind bags of school supplies that you'd asked Kai to pick up in order to make sure that your escape bag didn't stand out. You grab it swiftly, along with your daughter's outdoor shoes, and make your way to the most dangerous element of your escape: your daughter's room.

She did so well. You remind yourself to praise her once you're away from the house, once you're in a car and making noise isn't a life or death dilemma. You built up the idea of your escape bit by bit over the past few weeks. You couldn't tell her that her father was a monster who kidnapped you, but you could prey on her desire to see more, to go beyond the rules established in her father's domain.

Don't you want to meet other kids? Go to the beach, feel the sand underneath your feet? Meet... your grandma? We'll just take a secret trip, you and me, and then come back to Papa when we're done. Then he'll see that it's safe to leave and come with us next time. But you have to keep it a secret. You can't tell him a thing, or we won't be able to go. You can keep a secret, can't you?

You kneel next to your daughter's bed and gently wake her up, whispering her name and stroking her hair, so she slowly opens her eyes in confusion before her gaze lands on your face and ah, a smile--it's just mom.

"Mama?" She asks, a bit too loudly for your liking.

"Shh baby," you say. "Yes, it's mama. Are you ready to go?" You see the tentativeness, the childish confusion in the way she nods. She doesn't know what real life is yet, she doesn't have an inkling of the freedom that she's lost, but she will.

You don't bother changing. You have a pair of clothes in the bag and you'll change when you're in a safer space. For now, you take her hand and lead her down the staircase, your chest tightening with every step. You can't help but glance back at the still-open doorway leading to your bedroom. You pray to whatever is listening that he won't wake up. Each step is a step closer to freedom. Each step is a terrifying risk that you or she might slip, might make noise, might wake him up.

Your spirits lift when you reach the bottom of the stairs. All you have to do is get out the door and he'll be waiting there with the key and a getaway car and freedom.

You clutch your daughter's hand, your own palm now sweaty; you nearly trip on a toy you forgot to pick up earlier, but thankfully the light in the entryway was turned on (you must have forgotten to turn it off) and you see it just in time to avoid disaster. You squeeze your daughter hand and turn the corner that leads to the entryway of your home--

Where Chisaki Kai is standing, waiting for you, his eyes practically illuminated by the glowing lamp light.

You drop the bag.

"No," you say. "No." Your mind suddenly feels fuzzy, like its buzzing, drowning out all of your thoughts with a pure denial of what you see in front of you.

"How--how did you--" you sputter, unable to continue voicing your question. It was all planned. It was all practiced. You pretended, you waited, you planned--for four years. How? How did he know?

He doesn't have to answer. You know the moment that your daughter's grip slips out of your hand and she runs up to her father, feet thumping on the floor. She clings to his side and doesn't look at you, and he runs a hand through her hair without taking his eyes away from your shaking form.

Of course she told him. Of course she told her papa that you wanted to leave. She loved him. Why wouldn't she? It was all she'd ever known. You were breaking the rules, breaking the structure that dominated her life since she could remember. 

"Please don't be mad at me, mama." Your daughter whimpers against Kai, and you can hear the tears in her little voice, and your heart aches for her in so many ways.

"I'm not," you whisper. "I'm not mad at you, baby." You're just sad, so sad. It hurts. All of it.

"Sweetheart," Kai says, voice surprisingly calm despite the events, "go back to bed while I help your mother unpack your things, all right?"

Your daughter nods and suddenly she's against you, hugging you in a tight, childish way; you only have enough energy to pull your arm around her, limp and heavy, patting her back without really feeling it before she scampers up the stairs.

You're left alone. With him.

He approaches you slowly and you feel like an animal. There's wildness hammering in your heart and the thought comes up, unwillingly: could you still run? Escape on your own? And hope that some day, your daughter escapes and finds you? But the thought of leaving her behind is impossible to indulge in for more than a second, and you know that without her, your life isn't worth living. The thought of abandoning her to Kai Chisaki brings up an immediate sense of revulsion and guilt and shame.

"What were you thinking?"

You aren't looking at him, but you don't have to be looking at him to know that he's glaring at you. Looking down on you with his gaze filled with righteous justifications. You glance and--yes, he is, but there's something darker, something you’d forgotten, underneath. Your stomach suddenly feels loaded with weights and your legs move backwards, pulling you away from him, away from the anger that feels like it's radiating off him in waves.

He suddenly grips your chin with brutal force and yanks your jaw forward, forcing you to look at him.

"I had to kill one of my most trusted men today because of your..." His eyes dart back and forth for a moment, before he spits out the apparently perfect description of your escape attempt. "Hysteria. An absolute waste of potential, all because of your ridiculousness."

Your mouth is dry. Your voice is hoarse. But you speak up, anyway. You've already lost everything.

"It's not ridiculous to want to get out of here." 

The weight of the years seems to press down on your shoulders, pounding into your bones, screaming in your ears. 

"It's not ridiculous to--to want to take my daughter away from the man who kidnapped me and forced me to pretend like I was happy here, like I was happy living in some--" you cough, needing moisture, but not daring to stop to swallow lest you lose your courage. "--glorified dollhouse while you tell me what to do and what to wear and how to act and when to fuck you and when to have a baby and fuck you, fuck you, just fuck you Kai. I hate you. Oh I fucking hate you."

You don't notice as your voice gets louder, emboldened by the adrenaline that's been crashing through you since you opened the bedroom door, until his hand is gripping your upper arm in a show of brute, vise-length strength.

"Lower. your. voice." 

His grip strengthens until you cry out, and then it gradually loosens without letting you go completely.

For the next few moments, you do nothing but stare at one another. Your mind feels hazy, darting from thought to thought. It was all for nothing. The last four years, all for nothing. But you think about your daughter, about what she may have been able to accomplish outside of these walls, and even the fantasy of a free life for her made it worth something--didn't it?

It's his voice that lowered, now, as he lets you go completely and straightens himself up. All business now. But what business will he engage in, this time?

"Perhaps you do need a vacation," he says, finally. Firmly. He's made a decision.

You wonder if he's lost his mind and you're about to ask as much before he continues.

"Did you know this house has a secret room? It's nice and quiet. The perfect place for you to recuperate until you've regained your senses."

The room, the room, the room.

Your hand instinctively claps against your mouth as you cry out.

After all, you don't want to wake your daughter up with your screams.

#yandere overhaul #yandere chisaki kai #yandere x reader #overhaul x reader #afterwitch writes

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

More than just a game

Warnings: dark elements including noncon and rape, oral, fingering, doxxing, stalking, and other explicit content. 

This is dark!Jake Jensen and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You find a new gaming buddy but he sees you as more than that.

Note: So this is my first Jake Jensen fic and it was lots of fun so let me know what you think and hope you enjoy. :D

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Special shout-out to @navybrat817​ for helping me with this idea

After too many nights scrolling through subreddits and searching for something to keep you distracted, you decided to bite the hook. Several other redditors agreed to hop on Minecraft and it had been a while since you logged in. You missed the almost relaxing ritual of mining and building.

You joined the chat, quick to hit the little microphone emblem as you listened to the voices in your headset. You learned long ago to keep your mic muted on the servers, especially with strangers. The last time you dared to speak up as a woman in a game chat, your DMs had become so overwhelmed you deleted and started a new account on Discord and changed your ID on Steam.

You were all given your tasks as players called out coordinates and you kept to chopping up the side of a mountain. You mostly worked alone, chatting through text instead of voice chat. As you placed a crafting table in your little mine, another player, JJ-Smooth, popped up and dropped some iron for you. 

He stayed close but you didn’t mind. A lot of players tried to work together the deeper they got and you were used to it. As you uncovered some lava, he dumped water before you could get burned and helped you hack up the obsidian. 

He thanked you on the voice chat but you knew any courtesy in return would earn you the attention of the entire server. So you dropped some gold for him and went on your way.

“I hear a zombie,” he warned.

You turned to hack up the undead before it could get you, only to be shot by a skeleton hidden on the next level. Another appeared and you died before you could hide, the bony villain killed by your ally as you watched your possession scatter over the death screen.

“Hey, I got your stuff,” he said as you loaded back up, “I’ll find you.”

You typed quickly in the chat, ‘sorry, mic busted, give me your coordinates and I’ll come to you.’

You waited as ‘JJ-Smooth is typing…’ appeared at the bottom and finally he sent the numbers. You hopped over the blocky hills and through the forests until you found the mine again. He was just outside and handed over all your tools and ration. He headed back into the mine and you followed him. This time, you began your own path in the opposite direction.

Before you knew it, you’d lost track of time. You sat back as you realised it was only you and JJ on the server. The silence should have tipped you off earlier. He was the host and you felt super awkward for staying so long. You typed that you were logging off for the night and thanked him. 

You hit the keyboard with your knuckle and yawned as you opened the screen, 

“God, it’s late,” you muttered.

“Hello?” he said.

Your eyes rounded as you looked at the mic symbol and the lack of red line made you cringe. You’d hit an extra button without noticing.

“Um, hi, sorry, I just--”

“Mic busted, huh?” he asked.

“No, I--” you didn’t know what to say, “anyways, I should--”

“So, you’re a chick? Is that why you mute?”

“Uh, well, it’s just… easier, sorry, I--” even if you weren’t trying to hide from gamer dudes, you weren’t the best at conversation.

“A gamer girl, nice,” he said and you sighed, “sorry, that sounded weird, didn’t it?”

“Mhmm,” you touched your bottom lip as you cupped your chin, “it’s late, I have to work tomorrow.”

“You comin’ back?” he asked, almost hopeful.

“I don’t know--”

“I won’t tell anyone,” he said abruptly, “promise, lips sealed.”

“I really don’t know if I can do this too much, I usually work early mornings so… yeah,” you said.

“I get it but you know you’re always welcome, hope you don’t mind if I send you an invite now and then. No pressure,” he offered.

“Uh, sure,” you shrugged, “okay, yeah, good night.”

You left the chat quickly and pulled off your headset. Shit.

‘I’m Jake by the way,’ a pm popped up, ‘gg.’

You typed back, ‘gg, it was fun’ and quickly logged out. You sat back and rubbed your eyes. Well, he didn’t seem like a total creep, maybe just a bit awkward but so were you. You shut down for the night and stretched out as you switched off the lamp. You were going to pay for your session in the morning.

🎮

A few nights later you got an invite to the server. You debated it but as it was Friday, you decided to make good use of the PC you’d saved up forever to build. You spawned in the middle of nowhere and built a bed before you found the half-finished settlement. You joined the chat but you must have been early as you were the only one there.

You headed back to the same mine, some work done since the first night, and laid your torches as you ventured into the depths. You jumped in your seat as a voice broke your peace.

“I don’t think anyone else is gonna join,” JJ-Smooth, or Jensen said, “you think maybe you’ll unmute?”

You stopped your mining and stared at the screen. You hovered over the mic button and re-read his name, he was the only other one there. You clicked and gave a strained smile to the screen.

“So, um, what’s the goal tonight?” you asked.

“Get some materials and go back to the settlement, keep building, oh, maybe we could try a portal, you ever gone to the nether?” he said but before you could reply he kept on, “shit, I shouldn’t assume, you seem like an experienced player.”

“Yeah, a few times, but I’m more a casual miner,” you went back to harvesting stone and ore.

“Ah,” he said, and it was silent for a moment, “so, you work again in the morning?”

“Not tomorrow,” you said as you focused on the game, “daycare isn’t open on the weekends.”

“A daycare, huh? That sounds fun, I love kids… not in a weird way but you know, I… urgh, I have a niece,” he said with a nervous chuckle, “nah, that’s cool though, sounds more fun than my gig.”

“Oh?” you turned and kept your axe moving.

“IT. You know, some people would be like ‘hey Jensen, why do you spend all your free time staring at a screen when that’s what you do at work?’” he scoffed, “well, who says I’m not mining there too.”

You wrinkled your forehead and gave a small laugh. He was rambling and it was kinda odd. You were happy for once not to be the strange one.

“But anyway,” he said, “I found lots of diamond over here. If we get some lapis lazuli we can build an enchanting table and get some sick armour.”

“Awesome,” you pressed your fingertips to your lip as you leaned on your elbow, “should try to head back before dark…”

“Hard to tell down here. How about you mine and I’ll keep an eye out for monsters?” he offered.

“Sure,” you agreed as he came onto your screen, “that works.”

🎮

Another week went by and you ventured back into the server a few times but not for very long as late nights did not mix with young children. The next weekend, you joined again on Saturday night and like the last few times it was just you and Jensen. You wondered why no one else was joining when the subreddit was so popular but you didn’t worry about it for long.

You mostly played in silence, Jensen did most of the talking and it was never about anything more than the game or his niece’s last soccer game. That night when you left the game, he kept typing on Discord.

‘I like playing with you,’ his message blipped up.

‘Same, thx.’

‘Really, you’re awesome.’

‘Thx :) Tired, gotta sleep.’

‘Sweet dreams.’

‘Night.’

You changed your status to offline and dragged yourself to bed. You opened your phone as you laid in the dark and went to the subreddit, you scrolled through the builds and screenshots of other people’s catastrophes. 

You came to Jensen’s last invite post from that night but all the comments complained that the world code was incorrect. Hmm, you should tell him next time.

You blackened your cell and plopped it on your night table. You rolled over and buried your face in the pillow, the light still etched into your vision. You fell asleep quickly and woke the next day to another invite from Jensen.

‘How about some Fortnite? If you’re into it?’

‘Srry, can’t, my mom’s expecting me for lunch.’

‘2 bad, maybe later.’

‘Maybe’.

You got ready to go see your mother for your usual Sunday afternoon visit and it went by like any other. When she asked you what you’d been up to, you didn’t mention the gaming, she was never a fan of it. When you got back home, Jensen was messaging you again. You didn’t open the notification and settled in to catch up on some streaming before another week of work.

Monday hit you like a train and you were glad you hadn’t spent the night mining again. If you had, you doubted you’d even be able to open your eyes. You got to the daycare centre and welcomed in the kids. You got them set up for the morning snack then cleaned up as Sandy took them over to the reading circle.

You wiped the tables and then did some painting before you went out for some play time in the yard. As you watched several of the children on the swings, you glanced around. There was a man across the street. You squinted through the chain link as he seemed to be watching but assured yourself it was nothing as he quickly headed for the corner and disappeared.

Inside, the kids were due for quiet time, some napped and those who didn’t, stared at the ceiling and yawned. You could have joined them but knew that wouldn’t be acceptable. The end of the day came and you helped the kids pack up their paintings and their sweaters. You waited in the yard with them as the parents showed up and handed them off one by one.

You waved to Danika as she clung to her mother and your eye was once more drawn beyond the chain link. The same faded grey jacket, the same glasses, and the hat with the frayed brim. It was a better look at the man. Was he looking at you? Why on earth was he hanging around outside a daycare?

“Sandy,” you turned and lowered your voice as she neared, “see that man?”

She peeked over and shrugged, “which one? The guy crossing the street?”

You looked up again and like before, he was walking away casually as if he hadn’t just been staring through the fence. You shook your head and huffed. “Sorry, never mind.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” she waved her fingers, “come on, let’s clean up.”

With the kids all sorted out, you went back in and tidied up the last of their mess. You and Sandy were friendly but like with any, you weren’t very talkative. You never really knew what to say but you were never unkind.

You pulled on your jacket and checked your purse for your phone and wallet. You checked the time and turned off the lights. You bid Sandy goodbye as she headed for her SUV and you took your usual route down the sidewalk towards your bus stop. 

You stopped short as the man was there. You were paranoid, he must just be waiting for the same route. You approached and he turned to watch you as you sat on the bench. He smiled and the dread sank deep in your chest. 

His rectangular glasses gave light to his blue eyes and a goatee trimmed his jaw. He was tall and well-built, you could tell even under his comic book tee. He was going to talk to you, another weirdo in the city.

“Hey,” his voice was chillingly familiar, “how was your day?”

You stared at him and blinked cluelessly. You looked around, it was only the two of you. You opened your mouth but you had to be wrong. He said your name and you winced.

“Jensen?” you breathed as you stood and squeezed the strap of your bag, “why? How--?”

“You weren’t answering me, I was worried,” he said, “just making sure you’re okay.”

“What the-- I don’t understand how--” He stepped closer and you backed up against the bench. “Don’t, I’ll scream.”

“Scream? Why? I’m just-- You know me, it’s me, Jensen.”

“You doxxed me?” you snapped, “what the hell?”

“No, I didn’t-- I’m just checking on you--”

“I don’t know you,” you said as your heart began to race, “so please, leave me alone,” you edged away from him, “and don’t message me again.”

You sprinted across the street and as you came up on the curb, you looked back at him. He watched you but didn’t follow. You could tell from there he wasn’t happy but the brim of his cap shadowed most of his face so you couldn’t guess if it was hurt or anger. You quickly spun away and continued down the next street to the nearest stop.

You couldn’t believe he’d just shown up like that. You couldn’t believe he would think that was okay. You couldn’t believe he’d think that much about you.

🎮

You blocked Jensen on Discord and left his world on Minecraft. That night you were shaky and nervous, afraid that he would show up at your apartment. Did he know where you lived? He must if he could figure out where you worked.

You didn’t open Steam that night. You paced your small apartment, jumping at every noise. Sleep didn’t come easily but in shallow spurts that left you even more tired. You watched over your shoulder as you walked to your stop and boarded with one eye on the door.

Work was little better as you found yourself distracted in the room full of toddlers. Sandy asked if you were okay as you kneaded play-do violently. You shook yourself out of your paranoia and assured her you were only short on sleep, not a complete lie.

You took out your phone when you stepped out for a small break. Your mom had called but you would have to get back to her when you had two hours to waste. There was another notification, that one from Discord, a friend request from JJ-NoRematch. It wasn’t hard to guess who it was and you declined it right away.

There were several others from Jensen, too. He followed your Insta, blocked; he followed your mostly empty twitter, blocked; and he even commented on your LinkedIn like a weird. You closed your phone and took a breath before you headed back into the kids, their voices rising in their excitement to go outside.

In the yard, you had another look around, expecting to see him there on the other side of the fence. You were slightly relieved when he wasn’t but still on edge. You joined a game of tag then watched several of the kids line up for the slide. You lost yourself in your job as you told yourself he must have gotten the hint, at least not to bother you irl.

Just like the day before, and every day, you left work and headed for your stop. He wasn’t there either and you sat down and phoned your mom, hanging up as the bus pulled up with a promise to call her again when you were home. At home, you felt almost normal again and checked your notifications; no more follows, no more requests, nothing.

Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday passed in a similar fashion. Each saw your anxieties less than the day before. You even resolved to open Steam and start a new world for yourself. You spent hours mining and almost fell asleep in your chair. When you nearly tipped over, you decided it was time for bed.

You slept better than you had all week and woke up before noon. You wanted to log right back on but you had life to deal with; groceries, cleaning, and of course, making that call to your mother you’d delayed the night before. After all that, you felt accomplished and you decided to treat yourself to take out, a rare divulgence.

You called the local Chinese eatery and waited eagerly for your feast as you turned on a new episode of your current binge. You played on your phone until the battery was low and had enough juice to buzz up the delivery man. You dug for your wallet as you went to the door and unlocked it without looking up.

“How much--” you asked as you opened the door.

Your eyes met a familiar pair, two blue gems behind a pair of narrow glasses. Jensen wore the same cap and held the paper bag of take-out with a smile. You grabbed the door and tried to swing it shut but he was too quick as he slapped a large hand against the peeling paint.

“It’s on me,” he said, “I love spare ribs.”

“What the--” you gasped as you pushed on the door helplessly, “please go away.”

“You’re not answering me,” he said as he stepped closer and forced you back as his body brushed against yours, “you blocked me and I can’t even get a hey, Jensen, how are you?”

“I don’t want you here,” you tried to shove him and he shouldered you away easily, “get out!”

He slammed the door and you flinched. He put the bag down on the corner table and reached back to twist the lock without a look. His eyes roved around your entryway and further into your apartment. He smiled as they stilled and focused on you.

“This place is cute… like you,” he said and you heard a slight hesitation in his voice.

You swallowed and backed away from him. You spun on your heel and ran for your couch. You reached over the back to your phone and unlocked it as the battery icon flashed. You had just enough juice to make the call. You dialed as you turned back to him.

“I’m calling the police so you b-better l-leave,” you warned as your voice and hands shook, “I me--”

He was quick and before you could pull away, he swiped your cell out of your hand. He scoffed and tossed it across the room. It hit the wall and landed screen down on the hardwood. You bit down and pressed yourself to the couch. You stared at him and kicked yourself forward as you tried to slip past him. He caught you and wrestled you back into the front room.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked calmly as you struggled in his grasp, “I’ve been nothing but nice to you.”

“N-no, you’re-- you-- let me go,” you stammered as he angled you around the couch. He pushed you down so you bounced on the cushion. You tried to push yourself up and he pointed his finger in your face and wagged it. 

“No, you stay,” he growled and wiped his other hand on his jeans. He was nervous, even if he was angry.

“Please, why-- what do you want?” you grasped the cushion and hovered at the edge of the couch.

He sighed and sat in the chair. He took his hat off and set it on the table as he ran his fingers through his short hair. 

“Good question,” he said as his jaw squared and his eyes turned to pinpoints, “better one, why did you block me?”

“Are you serious? You-- you--” you struggled to get your words out, your voice even more splintered by your fear, “you doxxed me, you came to-- to my work-- and…”

“I thought we were getting along. I thought you liked me,” he said with a frown, “I really did, you sure acted like it and-- I only wanted to make sure you were safe.”

“But why wouldn’t I be? I--” you shivered and crossed your arms as you withered beneath his gaze, “Jensen, this was only supposed to be online.”

He scoffed and stomped his boot on the floor. He shook his head as he looked to the ceiling and his anger bulged along his temple. He tilted his head and looked at you again.

“You know, for years, I have been a nice guy, I am a nice guy,” he pushed his shoulders to his ears as he threw his hand out, “I’m so patient and caring and you girls, you don’t even give me a second look.”

“Jensen--”

“No, really, I mean look at you, you’re no supermodel and yet it’s the same thing, ‘let’s just be friends’,” he spat, “but I watch guys all the time treat women like shit and they don’t have any trouble at all, they got them hanging off of them and I’m a creep for giving them a compliment or opening the door--”

“I don’t… know you,” you eked out, “you have to understand--”

“I don’t understand,” he stood abruptly, “I’m done trying to understand.”

He pulled his jacket open and slid it down his arms. You watched him sling it over the chair and as he turned back to you, you stood. He caught your shoulders and held you in place. His strength was plain in his grip as he squeezed then slowly moved his hands to cradle your face.

“I just wanna be nice,” he said as he leaned in. You tried to pull away but he moved a hand around the back of your head and forced your lips against his. He poked his tongue inside your mouth roughly as you tried to shove him away. Finally, he parted, his hands still firmly around your head, “wasn’t that nice?”

“Please,” you begged as he ran his thumb over your bottom lip.

His eyes searched your face as you stared back at him in terror. He sighed and dropped his hands back to your shoulders. He pushed you down to the sofa harshly and backed away.

“Fine, I won’t be nice,” he snarled as he took his glasses off and folded them carefully. He put them on the table beside his cap and twined his fingers together, loudly cracking his knuckles.

You blinked at him as your eyes grew glossy. You brought your legs up under you and pressed yourself to the back of the couch. You grasped the upholstery and turned as you launched yourself over to the other side. You stumbled as you landed on your feet and ran for the door.

You were yanked back as he snaked his arms around you and took you off your feet. You kicked out and screamed but it was cut off by his palm as he kept one arm around your middle. You scratched at his hand as he dragged you back to the couch. He pushed you face down onto the cushions and planted his knee in the middle of your back, slipping his hand away as he put enough weight on you to keep your voice suffocated.

“Listen, I know I look like some IT nerd but I’m a lot more than that, now don’t make me hurt you,” he played with your hair as he smiled down at you, “you try that again and I will shut you up and if someone hears you, I can take care of them too.”

You sniffed as tears pricked in your eyes and nodded frantically as it felt as if he would snap your spine. He pushed off of you and you stayed as you were, paralysed with fear. He sat and unlaced his boots one at a time. He looked up as he set them neatly beside the foot of the chair and he bent to catch your eye.

“Well?” he pointed at you and traced the line of your body in the air, “let’s go.”

You stared at him dumbly and he stood to pull his tee over his head. His torso was sculpted perfectly and his chest trimmed with hair that trailed all the way down to his pants. He stepped forward and tugged at the back of your shirt.

“You want me to do it for you, baby?” he purred, “I can help you.”

You swatted him away and sat up. You bent your legs to your chest and hugged them. “Please, I’m scared, just leave me alone--”

His hand rested on his belt and exhaled again. His fingers moved swiftly to unloop the striped belt and unbutton his jeans. He pushed them down, nearly tripping as he stepped out of them. He stood in his boxers, tented with his impatient excitement, and gripped his hips.

“It’s okay, baby, I know you’re shy, I am too,” he neared and you winced as he grabbed your wrist. He tugged on your arm and you resisted until he bent your hand back painfully and you cried out. He tickled your jaw as he looked you in the eye and tutted, “it doesn’t have to be like this, alright?”

You went limp and let him pull your arms apart. Your legs slipped down and your feet dangled above the floor. He got to his knees and pushed between yours. He slowly rolled up the hem of your shirt and bent to kiss your stomach as he bared the flesh. You trembled as he forced your arms up and swooped the fabric over your head. It fluttered through the air and to the floor as he cupped your tits through your bright pink bra.

“Is this so bad?” he asked as he nuzzled your chest and pushed your tits up. 

He glided the straps down your arm and slid your bra lower so that you popped out. He nibbled at your flesh and traced your nipples with his tongue. You sat rigid and let him explore your body, too terrified to move a muscle. He reached around you and struggled with the hooks, frustrated he snapped the clasps and the band came free.

He continued to play with your chest, his fingers crawling up and down your stomach and sides. There was a genuine curiosity to his touch and it sent a chill through you. His fingertips pressed to the top of your pants and he pulled at them as his lips travelled down to your hip.

He tugged on your pants and jerked your entire body. He tore them lower as he pushed you up and you lifted yourself to let him peel away the layer. He added them to the floor and toyed with the elastic of your panties. The little bow in the front drew his attention as he pushed your legs wider and ran his nose along the cotton.

He hummed and rubbed his fingers down your crotch, pushing the fabric to your folds as he teased you through them. You inhaled sharply at the tingle it inspired and he pressed firmer against you, flicking his fingers along your bud as he noticed how it made you squirm.

He gently pulled aside the cotton and you felt his hot breath against you. You pushed on his head before he could delve into you. “Please, don’t--”

“Shhhh,” he threw your hand away from his head and bent over you, “just relax.”

He dragged his tongue along your cunt and lingered around your clit. You clenched as it sent a thrill through you and he moved his lips against you, suckling at you bud as your breaths grew raspy. You pushed yourself against the back of the couch and dug your nails into the cushion.

He slid a finger along your cunt and circled your entrance. He rubbed up and down as he kept his tongue swirling over your clit and you swallowed back as gasp as he poked inside. He felt around and added another finger, stretching you as he carefully pushed them in and out of you in time with his mouth.

He lapped you up and you closed your eyes, desperate to resist the coil winding within you. Your legs tensed against the couch and you tilted your pelvis without thinking. He sped up, the noise of his mouth and your slickness filled the silence. You let out a puff and moaned as you slapped the couch. The waves rolled over your flesh and you came into his mouth with a pathetic mewl.

He stilled his fingers as he lazily teased you with his tongue. He pulled his fingers out and sat back, the heat between your legs cooling in his absence as he licked up your juices. He watched you as he sucked his fingers and stood. Your head lolled and you edged forward on the couch. You tried to stand but he caught you and flung you back.

“We’re not done, baby,” he winked at you as he grasped the top of his boxers, “go on, lay down.”

You murmured your refusal and once more tried to get up. You slipped onto the floor and shakily crawled away as he dropped his boxers to his ankle. He grabbed you before you could get around the side and lifted you easily. He turned you and shoved you down onto your back as he lifted a leg over you.

He straddled you and again his hands roved over your body. You smacked at his fingers weakly but he easily ignored you. He kept one hand moving along your curves as he stroked himself with the other. He groaned and shook as he stroked his dick. Your eyes followed his hand and you gulped, he was thick.

He moved his knees back and pushed them up beneath your thighs as he kept a hand planted on your chest. He ripped your panties down your legs and untangled them from your feet. 

He held you down as he ran his tip along your cunt, wetting himself with your coerced arousal. You groaned and grabbed the arm of the couch above you. You tried to pull away from him.

He pushed against your entrance and you looked at him in shock. You couldn’t stop him. His eyes were set between your legs as he inhaled and slowly eased into you. He gasped as he got his tip inside you and his muscles tensed. He bit his lip as he dove further in and you gasped as he filled you inch by inch.

“Shitttt,” he moaned as he reached his limit and you whined at how full you were, “oh, baby.”

His hand slid from your chest and he gripped your hips as he pulled back and thrust. You exclaimed and he did it again, slowly as he watched himself impale you over and over. You curled your fingers against the couch arm and your feet arch as you pressed your thighs around him. He lifted your pelvis high as he angled his dick even deeper.

“You feel so good,” he rasped, “oh, baby, you’re so good. Ahh-hh-hh,” his voice fizzled as your walls clenched him and you closed your eyes as you felt the heat building. 

He moved his hand along your thigh and stretched it over your pelvis, pushing his thumb to your clit as he kept his pace. He purred as you writhed helplessly against him and you panted through the rising ecstasy.

“Please, please, please…” you chanted, unsure if you were begging him to stop or for more.

He moaned as he sped up and you sucked your lip under your teeth as you neared your peak. You quivered as your orgasm crashed into you and you let out a strangled cry. He snarled and planted his hands beside your head as he leaned over you, his hot breath tickled your face as he pounded into you.

Your legs bent around him as his pelvis rubbed against you and the friction drove you to another climax. You held onto the arm of the couch as he fucked your harder and harder. He kissed you and nibbled at your lip as he groaned and hooked an arm under to hold you close.

“You’re gonna make me cum, baby,” he said against your cheek and you turned your head away from, “ah, here I--”

He spasmed and slammed into you. He took several long thrusts and stilled. He grunted and drew heavy breaths as he rested his weight over you. He grabbed your head and turned your head up as he pressed his forehead to yours. You kept your eyes closed as the flames slowly dwindled.

“Was that so bad?” he stroked your cheek and trailed his finger down to poke between your lips, “No, it’s what you wanted, isn’t it, baby?” he wiggled his hips and you hissed, “yeah, you want me.”

#jake jensen #dark jake jensen #dark!jake jensen #jake jensen x reader #the losers #fic #dark!fic #dark fic #one shot

[dropsofletters]

though you weren’t mine [kmg]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck my life, she thinks.

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

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

Earlier, she had asked:

To: Miyoung.

How’s your foot doing?

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

From: Miyoung.

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

But…haven’t you seen the news?

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

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

To: Miyoung.

I was supposed to know any news?

From: Miyoung.

OMG.

Enter my account. Check your ex’s Instagram.

And tell me where we’re hiding the body.

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

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

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

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

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

To: Miyoung.

Ew.

From: Miyoung.

You don’t care?

To: Miyoung.

Of course, I care.

I kissed that.

I made out with that.

I let that fuck me.

From: Miyoung.

Sid-looking ass.

Fuck him.

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

To: Miyoung.

We don’t judge people by their appearance here.

But he’s trash.

From: Miyoung.

Two weeks, girl.

It took him two effing weeks to get over you.

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

The second bitch.

The ‘no-one-cares’ bitch.

Fuck.

To: Miyoung.

I’ll get over him too, just watch.

From: Miyoung.

Oh, babe, I know.

And you’re on your way to it.

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

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

###

Everything is not fine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re Jaehyo, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For every scene?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

###

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ouch, but also, huh?

Is this the old owner’s porn stack?

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

Ooh, bed sounds kinky…

Is it an amateur sex tape?

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

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

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

###

01: NEW YORK.

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

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

Definitely her boyfriend.

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

God has favorites.

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

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

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

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

“And why are we recording us?”

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

“…They divorced, Mingyu.”

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

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

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

“Or not so far.”

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

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

###

02: BED.

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

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

“I’ll go back to sleep.”

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

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

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

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

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

###

07: DRUNK.

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

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

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

“I wanna throw up.”

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

###

10: ANNIVERSARY.

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

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

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

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

“Okay, go on Kim Mingyu.”

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

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

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

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

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

“And how did you know it was me?”

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

###

13: RING.

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

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

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

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

“What do you know, Mingyu?”

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

Love has a meaning then.

###

14: I SAID YES.

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

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

“It’s finally happening!”

###

31: DELETE.

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

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

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

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

“It isn’t even noticeable, come on.”

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

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

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

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

“You said you wanted children, Mingyu.”

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

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

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

“Did I ask for your opinion, Mingyu?”

“I—”

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

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

###

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nodding, she agrees. “Exactly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who’s the bitch now?”

“I’m going to fucking kill you—”

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

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

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

###

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

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

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

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

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

Do you know what he does? No idea.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s a pretty one, isn’t he?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

###

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

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

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

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

“I will.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Drinks tonight, babe?”

“For sure!”

###

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah…alcohol is not her thing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kang Dasom.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

###

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t do such thing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Huh?

Drunk?!

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

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

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

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

“Oh no.”

“Oh, yes.”

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

Or, rather, he was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nice to meet you, Mingyu.”

Nice to meet you, again, maybe.

“Likewise.”

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

###

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck. Someone’s here.

Someone is here and she had not even noticed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure?”

“I have to practice.”

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

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

“I think so, too.”

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

“I hope to see you again.”

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

###

Success tastes like honey.

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

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

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

Mingyu’s camera does her justice, after all.

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

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

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

“You know it!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her eyes go up.

“Want to look at your pictures?”

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you want?”

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

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

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

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

Mingyu shrugs. “Only if you have some.”

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

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

“Did modelling work for him?”

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

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

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

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

“You were in TV?”

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

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

“Want me to give you an autograph?”

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

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

“A good set of what?”

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

“Look at me ruining my own joke.”

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

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

“…Huh?”

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

“Very.”

“Why’s that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

###

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that why you moved here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So can you!”

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

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

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

“Maybe, we could exchange.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You want more?”

“…It’s enough.”

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

God. This man will be the death of her.

###

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

“Mingyu, hurry up!”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll catch you if that happens—”

“You don’t know that!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t do that!”

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

“You think it’s funny, don’t you?”

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

“You just wanted me to take it off.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Miyoung.

Something happened to Miyoung.

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

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

“How is your foot?”

“Healed, thankfully. You already know that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it that bad?”

“Horrible.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was even worse than she had imagined.

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

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

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

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

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

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

What was she thinking when she got with him?

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

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

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

“Give it to me.”

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

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

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

Eo Hanseul (Do Not Respond).

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

###

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hyun—”

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

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

No one does. Hyun didn’t either.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I like you too, Mingyu.

###

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoona.

The woman who almost married him.

The one person he had never talked about.

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

“You live here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s my privacy!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He had seemed so in love.

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

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

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

###

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

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

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

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

“Bullshit.”

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

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

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

“They’re all blurry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You have something to say? Speak.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah…I’m so sorry.”

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

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

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

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

“…Of course, Mingyu.”

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

###

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But you won the audition—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How did it go?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come on, let me live the dream.”

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

###

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

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

But Mingyu has.

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

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

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

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

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

“Hyun died.”

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

She was so talented.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Wanna Watch?

YangyangxReader

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary/Warning: Smut. Yangyang swears that tentacles are hot, just watch one video with him and you’ll see. He promises.… this was supposed to be a blurb but then I got very carried away. and because of that it might be a little rambley at some parts im so sorry

Requested

You’d be the first to admit that you and Yangyang had a weird friendship. Your other friends had clocked it, saying that even for best friends, you were way too open with each other.

And they weren’t technically wrong. Something about being around Yangyang deleted your filter, made you say shit that you never thought you’d say to another human being, but in your defense, he was exactly the same way.

It started with a few dirty jokes. It wasn’t anything serious or any different than ones you’d say with or without each other, but you two did encourage each other. It was as if anything one of you said, the other had something to add. It didn’t take long for things to begin to spiral and for your friends to decide that you two together were lethal.

After that day it was like you were attached at the hip. Something about your shared vulgarness made you click and it wasn’t very long after until it went a little far.

It was the first time you stayed over at his place, a bottle of liquor tucked in your bag. Tipsy off a half a bottle each, you both let it slip what turned you on the most. It wasn’t weird at the time, but the next morning there was a tension there.

That tension eventually faded, leading to another sleep over. And another. And another. Each of them somehow leading to some form of sexual conversation.

But the one that happened tonight was different.

Some joke about porn was made. You two sat side by side in your own chairs as you watched him play some game you quickly forgot the name of, and he had deemed it appropriate to mention that it would be kinda hot if the woman he played as were to get fucked by the tentacle monster that she fought.

You started by jokingly scolding him about how, though you weren’t sure exactly in what way, what he said was chauvinistic. But then you followed it with teasing about how he was a weirdo for being into tentacles.

“Oh come on,” he goes on, much louder than he needed to be, “you cannot tell me you’ve never looked at tentacle porn. Not even just because you were curious?”

“What porn I watch is none of your business Yang,” you retort as you push your finger in his face, a bratty giggle bursting from you when he smacks your hand away in irritation.

“So you’re not denying that you’ve seen tentacle porn,” he hums, nodding to himself, “if that’s the case I’m just gonna assume you have.”

You move to retort again, but he quickly interrupts, “actually I’m going to assume that you only watch tentacle porn and it’s something you get off to very often.”

“You think about me getting off a lot Yangyang?” you ask, but you quickly realize maybe the question was a step too far once the words are in the air.

Thankfully, he seems to ignore your question as he suddenly closed his game, the incognito tab he opens immediately after making your mouth run dry.

“How about this,” he starts, his fingers running across the keyboard as he types in the the link to a porn site. You divert your eyes quickly when you see the bars auto fill pop up, the idea of seeing whatever he looked at when he forgot to go incognito making your stomach flip, “let’s just take a little peek and we’ll see who’s right.”

“See who’s right about what?” your voice pitches and your back straightens as you ask.

“About whether or not tentacles are hot,” he turns to you briefly as if he’s explaining a math equation to you, “come on dude keep up.”

“Man I don’t know,” you hesitate, but you quickly notice he already has a video picked out and queued.

“I’m not gonna force you to watch it if you don’t want,” he reassures as he hovers his cursor over the play button, “but I also won’t judge you if you’re curious.”

You gnaw on your bottom lip for a moment as you think, your heart beating faster as the seconds pass, “okay fine just play it before I change my mind.”

And that’s how you got where you are now. You and Yangyang curled into your chairs, eyes wide and curious as a slender woman, with a disproportionately large chest, screams and whines while she’s brutally fucked by a weird tentacle monster.

You feel your face twist in fascination, first at the amount of detail and time that must have went into animating each frame, but then slowly but surely, just how weirdly hot you found yourself finding the video.

Something about the way the multiple tentacles cover her body as they suspend her in the air. One is shoved deep in her mouth, gross gagging noises added as a result, two attached to both of her nipples and another set fucking her open from both holes. It was easily one of the weirdest things you’ve ever seen, but you couldn’t ignore the growing wetness it caused in your underwear.

You try to not let it show in your body language, the idea of Yangyang noticing your arousal and then most likely making fun of you for it making you want to crawl in a hole.

You eyes dart over to him for a moment to try and gauge how he’s feeling. The first thing you notice immediately is the way he curls to block your view of his crotch, the second being the fact that he looks at you as well.

“So… what are you thinking?” he asks slowly.

“I don’t know what are you thinking?” you throw back almost too quickly.

“I… I think you know what I’m thinking,” his words continue to spill out like molasses, his head quickly nodding to the space between his legs with a embarrassed flush to his skin, “I’m asking how you’re feeling.”

“I don’t know,” you double down, your head shaking with a jerk, “I- I don’t know how I’m feeling.”

“It’s okay if you like it-“

“I don’t know if I like it,” you lie, your tone defensive and sharp.

“You do know that you’re not a bad person for liking it right?” He continues to reassure as he tries to keep his patience with you.

You only huff in response, the video still loudly playing as you talk. You try to shift in your seat to create distance between you, but it only makes you aware of how your arousal grows.

“Okay im not gonna lie,” he starts, a joking tone to his voice in the way that tells you he’s trying to ease the tension, “I think it’s hot, but you probably guessed that. I’m just saying I could totallly jack it to this.”

You know it’s a joke, but that doesn’t stop the words from making your face warm and your thighs flex. And even though you try and advert your eyes, you know he is analyzing every move you make.

“Do you maybe…” he trails off as he considers what to say next, “ack, no no it’s weird never mind.”

“What?” you dart up in panic, “is something im doing weird?”

“No no no,” he panics as well, “you’re fine… I was just gonna ask if you... if you maybe wanted to see how much you like it. Like see if you can get off to it?”

It was in this you found out that maybe your friends were right. Maybe you were lethal together, too comfortable and relaxed and willing to do and say the worst in front of each other. If that wasn’t the case there was no way in hell you’d end up where you were now.

If someone had told you that when you first met Yangyang that one night you two would be masturbating to tentacle porn together, you would have told them they lived in a fantasy, that they were just delusional perverts that don’t like people being just friends, but they would have been right.

You felt weirdly eager as you pushed your pajama shorts and underwear to his floor, the air of the room hitting your skin and making you come to the terms of how wet the video had gotten you.

And the fact that Yangyang seemed equally as eager as he pulled himself from the restrains of his sweatpants both put you at ease while putting you incredibly in edge.

You tried to ignore him as he sat next to you. Your eyes taking an iron lock onto his screen as a new video played. It was the same idea, pretty girl with literally any possible hole stuffed with a slimy tentacle getting pleasured in any way possible, the only difference was a slight change in art style.

It took you a moment to get into it, your fingers gently tapping against your clit as you tried to build the courage to touch yourself the same way you do in the safety of your own room, but after one particularly hard thrust from the monster and a desperate cry from the girl, you couldn’t hold back.

Your fingers dipped into your entrance gently as you coated the tips in your arousal, your hips jumping slightly at the friction.

Yangyang tried to ignore you as well, his fist moving slowly as he tried to focus on the scene in front of him, but the way you jerked next to him and the bubbles of noise that slipped unintentionally from your lips, he felt like a starving tiger being tempted with a steak.

You tried to bite your tongue to hold in any moans as your fingers started to roll circles gently on your clit, but with the way you grew wetter and wetter and the rising sensitivity in the bundle of nerves, you couldn’t help the quiet whimpering that rose from you chest.

It wasn’t that you could get off to it, it was actually much easier than you had anticipated. Something about the way the girls in the videos were being stimulated in every way possible had you hot and dripping in your arousal, and maybe your best friend pleasuring himself next to you was making it a million times sexier.

You weren’t alone though. It didn’t take long for Yangyang to lose his internal battle, his eyes straining to his side and his gaming chair rolling back slightly to allow him to watch you from the side. He knew he could crank one out easily to the videos in front of him, he had done it plenty of times before, but if he let the opportunity of watching your chest rise and fall with labored breaths while your fingers moved quickly over your dampened skin pass him by, he’d be kicking himself forever.

He was moving before he could even think, the finger of his free hand working with a mind of his own as they tap gently on the side of your chair. His heart beat sky rockets when you jump, but he only feels himself get harder when he sees it doesn’t stop your rapidly moving hand.

“Say no,” he whispers regardless of his growing need to touch you, “say no cause I cannot ruin this friendship.”

“No offense Yang,” he almost collapses at how winded you sound, but also at the promise that you’re still comfortable enough to shorten his name, “but if what we’re doing now didn’t ruin it, I don’t think anything will.”

“Thank fuck,” he speaks too loudly again as he moves his chair next to yours, his hand brushing against the side of your bare leg as it leans against the arm of your chair, “cause I wanna touch you so bad dude.”

“Hmmmm,” you hum out as his words swirl your brain like a blender, your heart rapidly pumping against your chest. You’d be a liar if you tried to act like the idea didn’t cause a new wave of arousal run over your body. Your answer comes before you can even think of the consequences.

“Please,” the word being your only verbal response before you rip your hand away from your body, your legs falling wider apart as an invitation. Your body jumps in protest as you deny yourself the orgasm that was slowly building, and Yangyang immediately jumps into action to compensate.

The first touch of his fingers is unsure, a hesitation in his muscles as he tries to convince himself that what’s happening is real. He isn’t sure what’s hotter to him in that moment, the way you whimper with a slight pout to your lips when he finally presses his digits to your swollen clit, or the way your eyes remain locked on the animated porn.

He’s battling between the two, when you show him something better. Your hand moves wildly in the air for only a moment, before you're pushing it under his arm. It doesn’t take you much exploring before you find where his hand slowly moves against his length. Your hand swats gently at his in a way that weirdly reminds him of the way you swat at him when he does something he’s not supposed to, and after his brain catches up with your motions, he lets go.

He thinks his heart probably stops when your hand wraps around him, your wrist immediately moving at the same pace as his fingers. His eyes slam shut for a second, a desperate attempt to hold off his orgasm, before they open slightly again.

He tries to do the same as you and keep his eyes trained on the video, and it works a few times, but as you gush and twitch against his unrelentingly moving fingers. He feels like one of his biggest fantasies has come to life in front of him, the whining sound of his name from your lips music to his ears.

You babble and squirm, your orgasm approaching you much faster than it has ever before. There’s something so jarring and new about the video that flashes in front of your eyes, and combining that with your best friend playing you not much differently than he’d played his game not long before made you feel like you were losing your grip on reality.

You’re vaguely aware that your hand flexes around his length, and fear that maybe your hold may be too rough immediately leaving your mind when you hear him let out a pleased groan. The sound also momentarily replaces the fear that filled you from actually looking at the boy that sits next to you, and you feel your head jerking to look at his face scrunched in pleasure.

The wind is knocked from your lungs when your eyes meet his again, neither of your stares faltering like you assumed they would. Instead the eye contact encourages you both, and you feel your hands pick up their pace.

You thank the universe for Yangyang’s reflexes as he finds no trouble in following your antsy jerking hips, his fingers never shifting away from your buzzing clit. He’s also completely unfazed as your thighs clamp around his wrist, and instead his now free hand moves to grab at your knee that’s closest to him, and pull harshly to hold your legs spread.

The angle his body is now turned leaves him leaning on his side, and he shows no hesitation to using the new position to his advantage as he begins thrusting his hips to fuck your fist.

You feel as if there’s another force around you that forces you to stare at one another, your hands and hips becoming frantic as you both inch closer and closer to your finish.

The video had ended moments before, but neither of you move to choose another. Too distracted by the other bodies, both of your breaths pick up right before the point of hyperventilating.

You feel yourself right on the edge, the beginning of your orgasm making your toes curl and your back arch off the back of the chair. Just from the stimulation on your clit, you can feel yourself falling, but when he notices that you’re starting to crumble, his fingers slip down until they push into you making you gasp loudly.

With his middle and ring finger pistoning in you at the same pace as his hips and the heel of his hand digging and rubbing into your clit, you finally start to come. If it wasn’t for his determined pace, your fluttering walls would push him out, but he fights against your body with a deep grunt as he curls the digits to pull against the nerve inside you that makes your eyes roll back into your skull.

With your mouth hanging open, silent moans and squeaking whimpers popping from your throat, he’s sure he stares at a defiled angel. He knew he always found you attractive, even more attractive when you first took his raunchy jokes in stride, but as you come so beautifully around his fingers, he decides you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

Just watching your come is enough to push him over the edge, but as it makes your muscles tense, your hand flexes and shakes as you hold him. With a few more pulses of his hips, he’s coming with his lip tucked between his teeth and his eyes trained on where you wrap around his fingers, your noise of surprise at the feeling of his come shooting across your hand only making his orgasm stronger.

With shaking legs, he falls back into his chair, his hand pulling from your sensitive skin, and his softening length slipping from your fingers.

Silence falls over the room, the only sound being the angry sound of his computer's fan and your evening breaths. You pull your limbs into your body as you try to get more comfortable in the seat, and as you try to wrap your arms around yourself, you notice the evidence of his orgasm that sticks to the side of your hand.

You’re moving before you can even think about your actions or how weird they could be to the boy next to you, your hand lifting up to your face and you tongue peaking out to lick at the sticky substance. You jerk slightly at the taste, but in a thought of self challenge and a simple ‘fuck it,’ you slide the flat of your tongue up the side of your hand, collecting everything he left behind, before swallowing deeply.

You hear a muffled sound of surprise to your side, the sound making your head whip to the side as you remembered your possible audience. Your heart beats fast as you panic at the idea of him finding your action gross, but as you look you see him in a very similar position.

Yangyang grins around his fingers that were once drenched in your orgasm, but now sit licked clean in his teasing mouth. There’s a slight popping noise as he pulls them hesitantly from his lips, and his devious smile only grows before he speaks.

“Oh so we’re both like gross, gross huh?”

#nct smut #wayv smut #yangyang smut #nct imagine #wayv imagine

[ratmonky]

Out of Body Experience

Word Count: 4.9K

Warnings: semi-public

AO3 Link

[You matched with Maru!]

[Send Maru a message!]

Maru: Hey.

(username): hiii!!

Maru: You look cute in your pictures on your profile.

(username): omg you think so?? i’m really happy!! i thought you had a rlly cool bio,,, i guess i did the right choice to like your bio

Maru: Thanks. I was surprised to get a notification that we matched. You’re way out of my league.

(username): don’t say that maruuu~ i bet you look handsome irl

Maru: I don’t.

(username): hmm, wanna prove it?? >.<

Maru: I don’t know.

(username): don’t be shy!! ur bio said you lived in kyoto, wanna meet up this saturday?

Maru: You’ll be disappointed.

(username): i promise i won’t!!! i like meeting new ppl!!! besides if we didn’t click we can still be friends?? i feel like you and i will be close no matter what!!

Maru: Are you sure? We just met.

(username): yep!!! come ooooonnnnn it’ll be fun to hang out!!

Maru: Fine.

(username): yay!!! let’s meet in front of the train station!! ahh i’m so excitedddd i can’t waittt TwT

Maru: Me too.

(username): <3

[Maru: <3………….. (send)]

Kokichi paused and deleted the message.

Maru: See you.

~~~

Kokichi’s first impression of you was that you were naive and careless. You wanted to meet up with him without any hesitation, what if he was someone who could harm you?

He stared at his screen and at your pictures.

You were gorgeous, he had never seen someone as pretty as you. On top of all that you wanted to meet him.

It made him feel special, wanted even.

~~~

When a notification sound filled his ears, Kokichi immediately checked if it was from you.

(username): maruuuuu!!!! i missed u  ))):

He stared at the message and read it three times but didn’t quite understand why you would miss him.

Maru: What?

(username): i thought you’d text me but u didn’t,,, i couldn’t sleep cuz i was thinking about u

Maru: I didn’t think you wanted me to text you.

(username): )):

Maru: ?

(username): )))):

Maru: (:

(username): (((((:

Maru: You’re childish aren’t you?

(username): what about it q;

Maru: Nothing. How old are you anyway?

(username): old enough to drinkkkk!!!

Maru: Me too. Which Jujutsu college are you going to?

(username): ohh, hehe… i dropped out cuz it wasn’t my thing

Maru: That’s irresponsible. Did you drop because you couldn’t keep up with your curse classes or was it for some other reason?

(username): maruuuu stop talking about jujutsu with meee!!!

Maru: Then what should we talk about?

(username): about our date >.<

Maru: Date?

(username): did u forget already )):

Maru: Forget what?

(username): our date on saturday )):

Maru: That’s a date?

(username): TwT ur making me sad maru

Maru: I don’t understand it, we just said we’d meet up.

(username): this is a dating website for ppl like us ///:

Maru: You want to date me?

(username): idk anymore,,, seems like ur a heartbreaker and i feel like u don’t feel a connection between us as i do

Maru: Wait! Don’t jump to conclusions all by yourself! You don’t even know what I look like, how can you be so sure that you want to date me?

(username): i mean,,, we matched for a reason,,, i liked ur bio and wanted to get to know u better is that bad??

Maru: No. No, it isn’t. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. I'm new to this sort of stuff.

(username): apology accepted!!!! ahhhh ur so cute,,, i can’t wait to meet u

Maru: Same here.

~~~

His classmates knew something was up. Robotic demeanor was gone and instead, it was actually a part of himself as Kokichi that was showing through.

“Mechamaru looks happy nowadays,” Kamo noted.

“It’s relieving that he shows us a softer side of himself,” Miwa added. “Makes me feel happy for him.”

“I wonder what caused him to become this way.” Kamo was talking to himself but Todo took it upon himself to answer.

“He has finally found himself a Takada-chan.” Todo grinned. “Reminds me, I never asked him what his type of woman is.”

There was a moment of silence before Todo walked out into the campus garden to make his way towards Mechamaru.

Mechamaru didn’t notice his presence as he was watering the flowers.

“Yo.”

“Todo. Did you need something?”

“What’s your type of woman?”

Caught off guard, Mechamaru dropped the watering can. “I… I think someone who’s kind and cheerful.” Someone who’s submissive.

“Like I guessed.” Todo held his chin between the knuckle of his forefinger and thumb as he hummed thoughtfully. “You’re as lifeless as your puppet.”

~~~

What did that suppose to mean?

Kokichi was just telling the truth.

Right?

~~~

Days passed until Friday came.

Kokichi talked to you almost every day and whenever he could. He seemed to enjoy your company more than he thought he would when the two of you first matched.

He woke up to your messages and went to sleep only after he texted you goodnight.

Today, he felt like his heart was going to jump out of his ribcage, he could hear his own pulse when it got too quiet and it was dead silent in his hideout… as always.

All he could think about was your date tomorrow. He had made sure to dress up Mechamaru nicely for the occasion and checked the weather report thrice so the date wouldn’t be ruined because of anything out of his control.

There was still something that made him extremely anxious. What if you didn’t like him? What if everything went terribly and you blocked his number?

He needed something to distract him from these negative thoughts.

Maru: Hey.

(username): maruuuu!!!! what r u doin??

Maru: Going to sleep soon, I think.

(username): without me (;

Maru: Never.

(username): i’m blushing

Maru: How are you?

(username): fine, i'm doing skincare tonight to get ready for our date!!

Maru: About that...

(username): ....

(username): are you going to cancel our date?

Maru: No! I’m just anxious about it.

(username): good cuz i’d block u

Maru: I don’t think you would.

(username): you don’t know me

Maru: Because you never told me about yourself.

(username): ^-^; haha yeah,,, so,,, what would you like to know?

Maru: Everything.

Without even noticing the passing time, Kokichi chatted with you until he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore.

He learned everything about you. From the earliest memory, you could recall about your first interaction with a cursed spirit to your latest obsession with an online game about cute animals.

His eyelids were getting heavier, he texted you goodnight and how he was excited to meet you tomorrow.

When he closed his eyes, this time he managed to fall asleep.

~~~

You pressed your phone to your chest and kicked at your sheets. The excitement was eating you up, the butterflies in your stomach wouldn’t calm down either. All because of someone you met online a couple of days ago.

It wasn’t something new to you to meet up with people you met online but this felt a lot different.

Previous times, you had used different dating apps or social media websites to make friends but this was the first time you had used a dating website specifically for people who knew the existence of curses.

Jujutsu sorcerers often found it hard to find someone they could click with because of their field of work but this website had risen up to popularity from day one. Your old classmates from your jujutsu college wouldn’t shut up about it so you gave it a go after their insisting.

Maru was one of the first people you matched with on the website. In his profile, he had written about how he wanted to find someone he could be himself with and date them.

That’s why tomorrow, you had to be on your best behavior so he could be himself around you.

~~~

You were twenty minutes early.

It wasn’t your intention to arrive this early but whether it be the excitement to meet up with Maru or not wanting to make him wait if your train was late-

Wait, those were all connected.

Letting out a sigh, you checked your phone. Yep, still twenty minutes. Once you put it back in your purse, your eyes scouted around the station. There weren’t any empty spaces for you to sit so you were standing by a meeting point next to the maps, hoping Maru would see you.

Although you didn’t know what he looked like, you had put effort into how you looked today so you could impress him. Deep inside, you hoped he would take notice of your appearance and compliment you but some men were just too dense.

From the way he had started texting you, he gave you the impression that he was one of those stoic and dense men but as you started to get to know him better, he turned out to be quite a friendly person. Very talkative and caring.

You pressed a hand on your cheek, you were burning up. Geez, were you really blushing this much because of him?

When you told your friends about this date, they had told you not to have too many expectations about Maru. They believed you were being catfished but it wasn’t possible, you didn’t want to meet him because of his appearance after all.

“Um, excuse me-”

Startled, you lifted your head to stare at a… robot?

You stepped away from its way, thinking that you were standing in front of its charging station or something. How long had it been since you had gone out? Had robots already taken over? Or was this one of those public pranks?

The robot was staring at you even after you moved away.

“(username)?”

You lifted your gaze and looked at the robot with wide eyes. “M-M-Maru?”

It nodded, “Mechamaru.”

No, it wasn’t a robot. You could sense cursed energy oozing from it. More like a cursed doll. Nevertheless, you were speechless.

There was a long pause before you spoke. “Ah, I...” You looked around as if you were searching for an exit and anxiously clutching on your purse.

Great, you were going to make up an excuse and go away. Just like he thought you would.

“I thought I was going to meet you, not a puppet.”

“I’m here,” he said, static sizzling noise coming from him was like nails on a chalkboard. “I just can’t be physically here because of my condition.”

“You could’ve told me about it first… ahh, sorry.” You sounded more annoyed than you would have liked but quickly covered it up by bowing your head to greet him. “Nevermind, I’m (name).”

“Are we going to use real names?”

“Well, I’m not gonna call you Megaman.” There was a smile.

“Mechamaru,” he corrected. After a short silence, he added, “Kokichi.”

“Nice to meet you Kokichi, I hope we can get along well.” You bowed yet again.

“Why are you being so formal?”

“It’s cuz…” You pointed at him.

“What?”

“Well…” You used both hands to gesture his whole body.

“If you say it’s because I’m a robot or anything similar to that, I’ll go home.” He sounded serious, or maybe it was because of the static.

You pouted and leaned forward on your tiptoes, “If I can’t even joke around then I’ll go home.”

“I thought you were looking forward to our date.” When you blushed at his words he spoke again. “You look cuter than your pictures.”

“Ahh, you really think so?” You started walking and he followed after you.

“I do.” He was keeping a large space between the two of you, whenever you tried to walk closer to him, he would move away but now when you were caught in the station with the crowd who were going home after work hours, you had to stay close to him.

You were being pushed against Kokichi thanks to the crowd trying to walk out of the station and he didn’t complain about it. Kokichi didn’t look at you, he thought about the things he read on the internet instead.

‘If you want your date to consider you as manly, you have to invest yourself to talk to her.’

“Your dress looks cute.” Kokichi came up with ‘the compliment her outfit’ route, he had seen men flirt before, he could do it too.

He stared down for a moment to see your reaction.

Bingo!

You smiled brighter than the sun, you played with your hair to give him a playful answer. “Thank you, I wore this just for our date.” Your eyes shined with small sparkles in them. “I really like your collar.” You pointed at his face, not too close, hesitant to invade his personal space. I’m here with his puppet not him, you reminded yourself.

“Thanks.”

When the two of you finally exited the station, you walked alongside him.

“Where to?” He nonchalantly asked while you were looking around the streets.

“What about karaoke?” You gave him an inviting smile, “It’d be fun.”

“Whatever you say.” He wasn’t sure which way you were taking. There was the main street and Kyoto's red-light district, of course, he knew you wouldn’t be going there. “Which street are we going for?”

You pointed to your right, “The main street, there is a karaoke place I know.” Your smile altered when you noticed how this time when you walked together to cross the street, it was close, your shoulder touched his fake biceps.

“I’m not good at singing for obvious reasons.” Back in his bathtub, Kokichi said it in a joking manner but thanks to the cursed puppet, it sounded a lot as if he was annoyed about the idea of going into karaoke. He bit his tongue and cringed, waiting for your reaction.

“You can still try, can’t you?” You gave him the best puppy eyes you could. “For me?”

Kokichi blushed but you weren’t able to see it through Mechamaru. “Y-yeah.”

“Oh, I didn’t know robots could stutter.”

“I didn’t stutter and I’m not a robot. This is a cursed puppet and sometimes the commands I give are interrupted, that’s why I-”

“You’re so easy to tease just as I guessed!”

Kokichi covered his mouth with his hand, watching you giggle at him through his screen.

“Here it is.” Pointing at a sign, you grabbed his arm and dragged him with you.

While you were showing him the prices, he was busy staring down at your shirt. He could… he could see your cleavage.

“The menu says they serve alcohol at this hour! Ahh, the prices are cheaper than the last time too! We can share the tab-” You stopped yourself from talking. Silence brought him out of his trance. “Oops, sorry. You can’t eat or drink through Megaman, right?”

“Mechamaru,” he corrected. “No, I can’t… But it’s on me anyway.”

“You’ll pay?” Your eyes sparkled brighter than the stars. Your pouting lips and hand on his chest didn’t help.

Kokichi looked away, blushing. “Y-yeah.”

“Y-you’re the best!” Mocking his stuttering, you offered him a cute smile. Then you went on to drag him inside while telling him about how this place was the best karaoke place in Kyoto because they served desserts and your favorite cocktail. All the while renting a room for the two of you.

“Would you like to share with others?” The employee asked.

“No.” Your answer was instantaneous.

Behind the register, the employee stared at Kokichi and down at you. It was easy to tell he thought the two of you were a mismatch. “Your room is to the left, you can order through the smart tablet. Have fun.”

“Thanks,” you said before walking past the register. When Kokichi caught up with you, you turned around. “Did you see the way he stared? So lame!”

“Well, anyone would have stared if they saw a pretty girl next to a robot.”

“So, you’re accepting you’re a robot?” You grinned, opening the door to the private room.

“That’s not what I meant!” He didn’t know what he was expecting. From the way you texted, he should have known you were this childish and unable to have a serious conversation.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing.” He closed the door behind him as you were ordering as many drinks as you could. Once he noticed you were about to order the entire menu, he barely managed to stop you by taking the smart tablet away from your hands. “Hey, I’m not rich!”

“It’s cheap, trust me!” You pouted your lips again, reaching for the smart tablet he was holding above your head.

His stare found the menu and froze. It was cheaper than he had thought like you said. He had never been somewhere like this, nobody could blame him for it.

“Sorry, I didn’t notice,” he said as he handed the device back to you.

“I was showing you the menu earlier, you weren’t listening, were you?” Your smile widened, eyes squinting knowingly.

“I was listening! You’re talking way too much, I can’t keep up!”

You crossed your legs, continuing to add stuff to your order.

It got quiet.

Realizing what he had said was rude, he apologized.

“It doesn’t sound genuine.”

“It’s because I’m talking through a puppet.”

“Exactly.”

You weren’t looking at him. Putting the tablet aside, you leaned back on the soft cushions. The mood had changed. When you weren’t talking, it was too quiet.

Decidedly, he walked over to the karaoke machine and grabbed two microphones. He sat next to you, placing one of the microphones next to you as he reached for the tablet.

There were way too many songs in the system and he knew none of them.

Scrolling further, he found Takada-chan’s songs.

“You like Takada-chan?” you asked, noticing how he had stopped scrolling.

“No,” he replied. “My friend-” Was he really his friend? “My friend likes her, he won’t stop talking about her and all.”

“I like her,” you said. “I’ve been to her meet and greets many times but they’re always ruined by some buff dude who has the most tickets. He’s always at the events, kinda creepy but seems like he supports her. He once beat up some guy who insulted her.”

Kokichi didn’t say anything. He didn’t want that guy to be the icebreaker on his date.

“Creepy,” he uttered before putting the tablet on your lap. “You should sing, I don’t know any of these songs.”

“None of them?” You raised a brow.

“None.”

“You’re so boring,” you murmured, clicking on the first song you saw.

The loud music filled the room and his hideout. You tapped on the microphone, “Check, one, two. Kokichi is sooooo boring!”

Your laughter was the next thing that filled his hideout. He chuckled but it came out as a static noise through Mechamaru.

While you were singing, the same employee came with two trays full of drinks and snacks, he left them on the table before leaving immediately. None of you paid any mind as you were changing the lyrics to tease Kokichi.

“Are those really the lyrics?” he asked.

“Yep!”

Another giggle.

Too cute.

Very cute.

He watched you stop singing for a brief moment to chug down your third drink. Your cheeks were flushed red from the booze and your neck was sweaty, you kept fanning your hand towards your face.

His gaze focused on a particular sweat droplet on your neck and idly watched as it drizzled down to your cleavage before disappearing under the fabric of your dress.

Kokichi tried focusing on something else but he found himself unable to tear his eyes away from you. Every single thing you did was seductive. When you bit onto a small rice cake or the way your lips closed around the straw of your drink and how your cheeks hollowed when you tried sucking the last bits of your cocktail in your mouth.

The last drop had to be when you grabbed an ice cube from your drink and held it over the skin of your chest.

His hand pressed on his lower half. He was thankful he wasn’t physically there or he would have been labeled as a pervert. Under the soothing medical liquid, he had a problem you didn’t need to see.

You weren’t singing anymore but the music was playing nonetheless to suppress the silence as Kokichi was practically undressing you with his eyes.

“Heyyy, Kokichi~” you slurred, sitting closer to him. “You’re being too quiet!”

Taken aback, he spoke. “I’m not sure what to say?”

“Just talk…” you whined, putting a hand on his knee.

Oh, how he wished he could feel the warmth of your hand.

“Or better… Sing!” You held a microphone up to his face.

“I can’t sing,” he reminded.

“You said, you’d sing for meee~”

He blushed, taking the microphone from your hand. “I don’t know the lyrics.”

“It’s on the screen.”

Yes, the lyrics were on the screen.

He felt embarrassed, this was stupid. He wasn’t even actually in the room with you but he felt so nervous. His actual hands were shaking as he gulped.

When he started singing, you started laughing.

The static made it sound like he was an actual robot. Yet, Kokichi didn’t stop despite how tone-deaf his voice was coming through Mechamaru. He wanted to make sure you were having fun but the music stopped.

Both of you stared at the notification on the tablet, asking if you wanted to add another hour to your stay.

Had it already been an hour? Time was going fast when you two were having fun.

You looked at Kokichi.

He pressed to accept.

The music continued playing.

This time, Kokichi didn’t sing. The two of you started chatting about everything and anything until there was a lull in the conversation.

“Lemme see your hand,” you said, reaching your own towards him. He slowly placed his hand on your open one and you compared the size. “Wow, your hand is hugee, is your real hand this big?”

Funny, if not absurd. You were on a date with a puppet but you were getting turned on.

“It's the same size as my own hand.” His gaze dropped to his actual body. “At least one of them.”

“Can you feel that?” You intertwined your fingers with his.

“No.” He wasn’t looking and he didn’t need to look. The depressing realization that he was always going to watch people behind a screen and in this damn bathtub was starting to sink in once again.

“Can you feel this?” You were giggling.

“I told you, I can’t feel-” His breathing stopped at the sight of you pressing his hand on your breast.

“I wanna meet you, Kokichi~” Smiling enticingly, you sat closer to him. “It’s no fun when I can’t see if you’re blushing right now.” Your hand over his hand moved on your breast, the supple flesh jiggled under the front of your dress. “Are you blushing right now?”

“I am.” His answer was instant.

“You know,” you started, putting your free hand on his thigh and lifting your leg up on the cushion to face him. “I got all dressed up ‘cause I wanted you to lose your composure. You sounded so uptight and stoic. I wanted to see you lose it.” Tilting your head, you puckered your lips. “But you didn’t even come to our date.”

“I did.”

“Megaman did.”

“Mechamaru.”

“I wanted Kokichi to come.” You pulled his hand away from your breast and led it down to your stomach and even lower. “I wish you were here so you could feel how wet I am.”

“(name),” he said. “I can’t feel my fingers through Mechamaru.”

“Mm?” You placed his hand under the skirt of your dress. “But I can feel them.”

Kokichi’s actual hand started shaking in excitement as Mechamaru’s fingers brushed against your panties.

“Can’t I meet you?” Your voice was faint compared to the music but he heard it. “I wanna meet you.”

“You’ll be disappointed, I don’t look… normal.”

“You don’t look normal right now either.” Biting your lip, you moved against his hand. A soft gasp left your lips. “Yet, I’m so turned on right now.”

There were a thousand different thoughts invading his mind but Kokichi felt like he was hypnotized by your hips.

“Kokichiii, move your fingers,” you whined softly, your eyes hazy with lust.

“I need to see them,” he said. Back in his room, his own hand was pressing down on his growing erection. “Or I may move them wrong.”

“Pervert~” you teased, lifting the skirt of your dress up.

He didn’t say anything, instead focused his attention on your soaked panties. How long had you been this wet? From the moment you two rented the room or-

“Kokichi.” Your needy voice brought him out of his dirty thoughts. “You don’t have a cock under your pants, do you?” Your hand pressed against Mechamaru’s groin.

For the first time in his life, Kokichi felt his entire body jolt. Your vulgar way of asking was enough to get him rock hard. “No-”

“What a waste.” Sulking, you retrieved your hand. “But are you hard right now?”

“I… I am.”

A dangerous glint sparkled through your eyes. “If only you were here… I’d make you feel sooo good.”

Mechamaru’s fingers pressed against your clothed folds before moving along them. A soft moan left your lips and you balanced yourself on your hands.

“I look like a freak-”

“You keep saying that.” Your hips moved against his hand. “As if that matters to me.”

Mechamaru slid your panties to the side and spread your folds with two of his fingers, he carefully watched as wet strands connecting them together broke apart. Kokichi’s own hand was pumping his cock.

“What are you doing right now, Kokichi?”

“I’m putting a finger inside.” He inserted one of his fingers inside you.

“No, what are you really doing?” You bit your lip.

“I’m… I’m jerking off.”

Satisfied with his answer, you crossed a leg over his to settle on his lap with your back against his chest. Spreading your legs wider, you allowed him a better view of your wet pussy. Mechamaru’s digits slid inside as Kokichi moved his hand along the length of his cock.

Mechamaru’s other hand went to cup your breast over your shirt, making a moan escape your lips.

His fingers were reaching deeper than your own fingers ever could. The digits moved in a scissoring motion and curled against your gummy walls, pressing against the spot that made your vision blurry.

“Kokichi,” gasping, you squirmed on his lap, your back arched when his thumb grazed over your clit. “I wanna kiss you so bad.”

Kokichi’s hand tightened around the tip of his cock, he pulled the sensitive skin down to expose the pink tip and massaged it using his thumb. When his hand started moving along his cock again, the device helping him talk through Mechamaru picked up the clicking sound rather than the medical fluid splashing.

You moaned at the realization of what you were hearing.

The feeling of the metallic firm fingers stroking your clit made your hips buck against his hand. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, panting, you pressed your thighs together.

Mechamaru’s hand on your chest moved down on your thigh to hold you in place as his fingers inside your pussy started to vibrate. The sudden pleasure made you scream but the loud music concealed it.

Kokichi couldn’t breathe normally, his pulse had gone haywire as his hand was moving hastily around his cock while Mechamaru’s digits were messing you up.

“S-s-s-stop!” Your voice broke into a moan.

“Do you really want me to stop?” He barely managed to ask, his hand wouldn’t stop.

You shook your head rapidly, biting your lip.

Your walls clenched around the digits, sucking them in deeper. Kokichi’s own hand was moving faster than his heartbeat. His tongue lolled out of his mouth and his shoulders tensed.

He was close.

From the way you were shaking, he could say the same thing for you.

So, when Mechamaru pushed his digits further inside, the vibration got stronger and stronger until your legs shook. The pleasure that was building in your gut suddenly got released, shaking you to your core.

Kokichi followed suit, his cock spurted thick clumps of cum and they landed on his stomach, his bandages absorbed his seed.

By the time he caught his breath, he realized you were still on his lap.

Mechamaru had gone limp as he had gotten distracted because of his orgasm. He revived the cursed doll while you were trying to fix your dress.

You wanted to say something but you couldn’t find something to say.

To your rescue, the music stopped.

The tablet had the same notification from before. Informing you that the second hour had ended and if you wanted to rent the room for one more hour.

Kokichi leaned forward and pressed on the tablet to end the session.

“We’re leaving already?” you pouted your lips.

“You said you wanted to meet me.”

Kokichi watched as the brightest smile he had ever seen formed on your face.

After he paid the tab the two of you exited the building as he held you up with one hand because your legs weren’t functioning properly.

“The employee behind the register noticed your wobbly legs,” Kokichi said.

“You think so?” you whispered, cheeks and ears colored in bright red.

“He was looking, so, yes.”

“You kinda went overboard by using Megaman’s vibrator hands.” Your giggle filled his ears and he smiled to himself.

“It’s Mechamaru.”

#this was gonna be a dark one but my friend told me to rewrite it lmao #anywayyyy kokichi supremacy #mechamaru x reader #kokichi muta x reader

[unholyplumpprincess]

Take Care of You

Fic for @fyeahnix ! Thank you so much for your patience during this!!! This also is a sequel for her other fic, ‘Don’t wanna forget a thing’, but can be read as a stand alone!

Ao3 link here

Summary: Wraith and her no good, awful, terrible day. Nothing is going right, stress is piling up, plans aren't going right, and to top it all off she can't sleep. She's gonna have to finally suck up her pride and ask her girlfriend to come over and help her sleep. But, Anita has better plans than just sleeping to help ease her girlfriend.Or! In which Anita takes care of Wraith in more ways than just helping her de-stress.

!!!Minors and ageless blogs dni or you will be blocked!!!

Reblogs > Likes - If you hit Like on this, please Reblog to support more future content like this :D

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Bangalore/Wraith

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, fluffy moments, mentions of Wraith’s depression, Anita tops with a dragon dildo and it’s gr8, rimming + anal play

Words: 9.5k

_____________

Life could be cruel. 

A statement that Wraith had made herself familiar with for quite some time. Though, she supposes, that this could not be the cruelest it could be. No, this was nothing like when she found out of her past- or... one of her pasts. It could get confused on who and which ‘she’ she was thinking of. Or even if they were a ‘she’ at all. Or what path, which life, which people, which-- 

Sigh. 

Exhausting. It's all too exhausting to consider. Every path, every outcome, every recent nightmare plaguing her mind and making her even more irritable. Nightmares that she didn’t know if they were of watching a life of hers get hurt, another path. Or if it was simple fears that every person had. 

Everything just seemed to be going wrong for her. It started off small enough, her nightmares had been triggered back into place. Insomnia making her dark under eyes look more like bruises nowadays and not helped by the way she rubs her eyes in exhaustion.  

Natalie, bless whatever planet she came from, would always chide her and gently move her hands from her face once she noted Wraith’s nails starting to sink into flesh. Wraith was forever grateful to her, but she wasn’t about to let Natalie believe she had to take care of her in any form of the manner. 

Natalie wasn’t her keeper, not her mother. But whenever Wraith would gently try to tell Natalie that she had this, she’d get a look from her best friend. One that was so gentle with a soft reminder from her glossy pink lips. 

“You do not have to do everything alone either.”

!Rest under the cut here!

A statement Wraith was familiar with. She’d been doing things on her own since she could remember. It just seemed hard to break that habit. To feel like she needed to do it on her own, to try and succeed when she knew it would be better to have even one shoulder to lean on.  

Relationships and friendships required balance, equality. She had to allow herself to get just as much as she gave. 

Harder than it sounded. 

On day three of her awful week, she looks at her phone for a moment in the night. Her thumb resting over the call button of the name ‘Handsome’ with a heart and ring emoji beside it. Cheesy, she’s aware. But for a moment, she thinks of calling Anita or even texting her. 

Just asking for her to be there. 

She would be. Wraith knew she would drop whatever she was doing to come take care of her, make sure she was okay. Wraith could practically taste Anita’s grape lip balm on her lips, the taste of mint on her tongue. The hint of gun smoke that always clung to Anita’s frame. The deepness of her cologne. 

Anita’s presence was like the first drink of water in the morning. The first warm bliss of sunshine after being in the biting cold. The first taste of warm food when you’d had a shitty day. Her presence was like that of comfort. 

Her home. 

In the end, she puts her phone face down. Welcoming another sleepless night with too many people talking. Too much tossing and turning. Too much yearning in her heart, but too much of a stubborn fool to do anything about it. 

-- 

The season is about midway through. Wraith had a strong start, topping the charts with her ferocity. Spurred on by Anita on an opposite squad and making her feel a bit more hectic in her need to hunt her girlfriend down. To pin her by her neck, dig her knees into Anita’s hand and murmur, “Surprise.” in her ear to watch those pretty freckled cheeks flush and a snarl uplifting one side of Anita’s lips before she stabbed her kunai into her throat. 

Flirting with your girlfriend just got more vicious when you were a part of a blood sport. 

Halfway through the season, they paired her with new people who were hoping to get in to call themselves Legends. Most wanted the glory all to themselves, going off as a solo only to get foolishly killed. Of course they did. This was a team sport, after all. But that left Wraith open and on her own. Just another body bag to take off the battlefield. 

Day five, she looks at her phone again. Thumb hovering over the text box that led to her and Anita’s conversation.  

It would be so easy.  

She would come if we just asked.  

Don’t you miss her?  

We miss her.  

Text her-  

Call her-  

Just press the button, you dumb girl-  

The girls, as Wraith has been recently referring to the voices after Anita lovingly calling them ‘Her Ladies’- as they are just people as well. They always have an opinion when it involves Anita. Wraith has always wondered if in all her other lives if they were with her as well, or if all of them had the same attraction. If they even all knew her from various lives. 

That sometimes made her smile. A childish desire to believe soulmates were real. 

Whatever the answer, they all had an opinion about the sunshine in Wraith’s life. Normally trying to get her to do like she’s considering now: Getting Anita into her quarters. 

Wraith huffs. Placing the phone face down on the nightstand and resting in bed with an arm over her eyes as an uproar of voices start trying to convince her to change her mind or to do something saucy to get Anita’s attention. 

-- 

Plans with Natalie fall through at the end of the week. She’s had a breakthrough on a project, meaning she needed to focus all her attention there to possibly prevent a meltdown. She apologizes profusely, but Wraith is quick to tell her she understands and to not worry, they can try for another day. Wraith promises to check in on her in a few hours to make sure she’s not forgetting to eat either, as she knows how Natalie can be when on the brink of something this big. 

So that falls to plan B of Elliott having told Wraith that he and Pathfinder were going to be having a night at the bar and she was free to join. But when Wraith calls him for that, he explains apologetically that Ramya wasn’t feeling too hot today so he was staying in to make sure she was doing okay. Siting something about not leaving family behind. 

It’s sweet, and understandable. Wraith once again explains that she understands, but when the call ends, she feels so horribly exhausted and at her wits end. A sigh on her lips, rubbing at her face and feeling on the very last leg of her thread. 

When she lies on her bed for the seventh day of the week, she stares at the ceiling with a blank expression. In desperate need of something. Anything.  

A sigh escapes her, her brows furrowing and coming to the realization all at once. 

She has to swallow her pride and call her girlfriend. 

It’s not that she doesn’t want to- oh she’s wanted to all week. But it’s...hard to admit to someone that you aren’t okay. That you just need someone there. Not to mention she feels a tinge of guilt. Whenever she had a bad time, her comfort was her girlfriend. To be wrapped in her arms and hear her soothing voice calming her. To smell her cologne and know her worries were put at ease with an easy kiss to the forehead and a tuck of her hair behind her pierced ear. 

Not like Anita hadn’t noticed Wraith doing well- attentive as she was. Wraith just kept saying she had it, that she was fine. Her poor defense mechanism kicking in and pushing away even the woman she loved. 

It’s hard enough for her to even sit up and grab the phone, once again hesitating before forcing herself to just send a simple ‘Hey’ text to her. Telling herself that if Anita said she was busy or even if she wasn’t going to respond because she was already asleep- that Wraith would drop it immediately. That she’d find something else- 

Ting, ting!  

Her phone lights up, casting a blue glow in the dim room and making Wraith’s heart pound at the quick reply. She feels like a teenager as her fingers wrap around her phone and flipping it to look at the text. Her heart does a flutter, feeling relief already in her body and tears pricking her eyes when she sees the text given back to her. 

‘hey boo whats goin on?’ 

A small, tired but fond laugh crosses Wraith’s lips. Rubbing at her eyes to steady herself and feeling a bit ridiculous for having worked herself up to the brink. But exhaustion still wears out her bones. Wraith sinks down onto the ground, pressing her back to her bed and sitting cross legged as she begins typing. 

She erases what she’s writing a few times, starting to become frustrated. Nothing sounds right- or it sounds too needy. Too whiny. Too wanting. But she finally settles on one. 

Honesty. 

‘I just miss you.’ 

That’s what she types at first, letting it sink in before swallowing her pride once more and beginning to type again. 

‘And I...’ 

A moment of hesitation to continue when she hits enter the first time. 

‘I feel like shit. Been having a rough week. Was wondering if you could come over tonight so I could get a few hours of sleep?’ 

When she hits send again, she debates deleting it. But when the read icon pops up in two seconds flat, she knows she’s got Anita’s full attention. 

Something about that makes her feel terribly wanted . 

‘of course pumpkin’ 

Wraith hates that it makes her smile, tired and soft. Pressing her hand to her cheek and feeling a bit ridiculous just how a confirmation and a nickname could make her heart flutter. 

‘be over in twenty’ 

Wraith clicks her phone screen closed. Moving to stand to go take a shower so she at the very least looked half presentable for Anita. Even if her body screams at her to just lie down already. 

Ting ting!  

Another text? Wraith would have assumed Anita was going to finish her nightly work out and then head over. She flips the device in her palm, opening up their conversation. 

‘and don’t even think about showering yet. I’ll take care of you tonight.’ 

‘bath? I’ll bring the snacks’ 

Wraith’s eyes linger on those words with an air of feeling like she was going to melt into a puddle. ‘I’ll take care of you tonight’ Anita said. And she could hear it in her voice too. Low in Wraith’s ear, her full lips caressing the shell of her ear and her voice dropping to a husk with a squeeze to her waist. Where Anita’s hands liked to linger, moving towards her softer abdomen that she oh so loved on her. 

‘I’d love that. Sorry if my hair is a mess :/' 

Wraith finds herself texting back in a more playful manner. Emoticons weren’t normally her thing. But, after texting between Elliott and Natalie who were both plentiful in emojis, Wraith finds herself trying to express her words better by adding some sort of emotion to them. Not so clinical. 

‘you look sexy when your hairs a mess’ 

And once again Wraith hates that it’s the small things that make her pale cheeks flush red. Huffing an amused noise under her breath and knowing Anita is probably laughing in return as Wraith shuts off her phone. 

Her room is a bit of a mess. She hadn’t had the energy to really take care of it much. So, she works on picking up dirty clothing and putting it into the hamper. Finding water bottles to toss out and taking glasses left around her quarters to go wash later. 

It wasn’t horrible, no, just some things where she just felt like she couldn’t do it. Where if she touched one more thing, she would have exploded. 

It looks presentable in a few minutes. Tasks put off that could have been easily done in two minutes that instead took a week to complete. It would have frustrated Wraith on any other day, but today she feels accomplished for even getting that much done. The small wins, as Anita would have put it. 

It makes Wraith feel proud for even rolling out of bed today. 

She also changes into some clean clothes. Nothing fancy, just simple. A spaghetti strap black camisole that her chest near spilled out of- a favorite sleeping shirt and a favorite of Anita’s to see. And some gray sweatpants that were most definitely stolen from Anita with how Wraith has to roll up the bottoms of them to not trip over them. Her hair is tied into a messy ponytail, some black waves curling around her cheeks and making her blow them out of the way with a gust of air. 

She figured she looked presentable enough. Anita tended to like when Wraith was dressed casually, even when Wraith knew how her eyes wandered whenever she dressed up. 

A reminder of their trip just a few months ago for their anniversary crosses through her mind. A small smile playing on her lips when she remembers how Anita couldn’t take her eyes off her in her tight dress. 

The time they spent in Psamathe would always be treasured. Every moment. And every photo tucked away for safe keeping for Wraith’s eyes only. The ones that were more...appropriate had another spot. Namely in her bedroom, on her desk with a photo of the both of them. With Anita’s arm around Wraith’s waist and leaning her cheek atop her head while Wraith smiled with her eyes closed. 

It was one of her favorites. 

She’s outside.  

Wraith makes her way to the living room just as she hears the telltale ‘beep beep’ of the door being unlocked. Able to see the sliding door open to show Anita. Dressed in her casual clothes with her workout bag and a plastic bag slung over her shoulder. Her curls are a bit wet looking, clearly fresh from a shower. A tight white crew neck t-shirt clings to her frame, tucked into camouflage cargo pants and a black leather jacket with silver studs on the shoulders. 

Wraith feels her clit throb. Feeling a bit too wound up already. 

Before Anita can even get a word out, Wraith pounces her. The door sliding shut behind her and bracing Anita’s back to prevent her from falling. Wraith hears a vague ‘woah’ from her and the thump of the two bags over her shoulder hitting the ground. 

Wraith can’t help herself as her strong legs slide around Anita’s hips to secure herself. Feeling calloused palms grab her ass to hold her up and in place just as Wraith’s hands move. One grabbing the nape of Anita’s neck, the other cupping her cheek and dragging her into a hot and heavy kiss. 

Wraith feels all her worries melt away the second their lips make contact. Tasting Anita’s grape lip balm, the taste of mint on her tongue, inhaling the smoky scent off her clothes and the deep scent of leather. The subtleness of the musk and citrus of her cologne. 

She moans freely into her mouth, delighted when Anita hums back, her hands gripping Wraith’s plump ass tight and appreciative. 

Anita is the first to break the kiss, but that doesn’t even make Wraith pause. Kissing down her jawline, down her neck where her teeth start to nip the sensitive flesh right above the silver chains on her dog tags. 

“Fuck-” Anita hisses through her teeth, only spurring Wraith on to seal her lips on a spot on her neck and beginning to suck. Stopping herself from smiling when she hears Anita's breath hitch. 

There's a tighter grip on her ass as Anita walks them back into Wraith’s bedroom. Wraith’s back turned towards her bed and- 

Move. 

When Anita goes to throw her onto the bed, Wraith moves fast to let herself hit the bed. Rolling out from under her just as Anita goes to pounce and promptly hooking her legs around Anita’s waist. Rolling them over so Wraith comes out on top on her lap, delighting in how Anita blinks a few times to get her bearings before her eyes settle on Wraith victoriously atop her. 

“You little -” Anita starts, but is promptly cut off by how hungry Wraith’s lips press to hers. 

Wraith can taste the frustration melting from Anita, feeling how her hands go from pressing at Wraith’s sides to shove her off potentially. To now moving slowly down the curves of her sides, sliding over her plump ass and encouraging Wraith’s little humping movements against her. 

Their lips part occasionally to mingle their breath. Both their half lidded gazes meeting and Anita’s full lips tugging into a small smile when Wraith sighs at the sight of her. But that’s cut off when Wraith leans in again, meeting her tongue first in a kiss that draws a low, deep moan from Anita’s lips. 

Anita’s hands are all over her as Wraith’s hips slowly grind into her. Anita’s hands slide up along her sides, up into her hair to tug it free from its ponytail. Silky black locks fall free, and Anita parts from the kiss just as Wraith sits up a little. Her calloused fingers sliding up and over Wraith’s collarbones, up her neck and just holding loosely for a brief moment around her throat. 

Wraith’s heart flutters, her lashes fluttering just the same and arching her back. A low moan leaving her lips when Anita croons low and raspy in her throat, “Love when you look a mess for me.” 

Wraith shudders under the attention, worries already starting to get put on the back shelf for Future Wraith to deal with. Content to lean back in for another kiss, taking her time licking into Anita’s mouth. Her hands starting to slide under Anita’s shirt, nails scratching along the way across taut muscle- 

Watch it.  

Wraith doesn’t have time to question it. Not when she’s so intoxicated by Anita’s taste and scent. Fingers wrap in her hair at the root, pulling and forcing Wraith’s back to arch and forcing her to sit up. She moans for the pain of it, her hips rolling helplessly into Anita’s lap with a hiss and a flutter of her lashes. 

A low, breathless chuckle falls from Anita’s lips, and Wraith knows the sight of her is making her just as much of a mess as Wraith is. “Woah, Kitty. Relax. I missed you too, but let's focus on you for now, yeah?” 

“I like my way better.” Wraith speaks, a smirk in her voice that is quickly extinguished when her hair is held tighter and forcing her to bare her throat. Keeping her in place like a scruffed kitten as Anita sits up to kiss the expanse of her neck down to the strap of her tanktop on her shoulder. 

“Betcha do. Always been good at distracting yourself from your feelings, hm? Let’s get you cleaned up, princess.” 

Pent up but willing to follow, Wraith only groans low in her throat. Letting Anita slip out from under her and peeking up at her when Anita looks down at her. Wordlessly, Wraith lifts her arms up like a pouting child, enjoying the way Anita’s eyes roll despite her soft smile and she lifts her up. Allowing Wraith to hook her legs around her and arms around her neck to be carried into her bathroom without much of a fight. 

The bathrooms for their quarters were nice. Some had walk in showers, some had clawfoot tubs. In Wraith’s case, she’d gotten a tub. At first that had been a struggle, but if she wanted a shower she could just go to Anita’s or the gym’s locker rooms. Especially on nights where no one else was awake. 

Small risks were had on those nights. With a hand over Anita’s mouth and the other sinking fingers into her and making the soldier beg. 

Anita sets Wraith atop the sink so she can begin drawing the bath. Going under her sink and finding the self-care items that Anita and Natalie had equally purchased for her. 

Bottles full of expensive hair care items that Anita had gotten for her, siting her expertise on hair care. Things like bubbles and soaps purchased by Natalie, who for some reason knew what scents were too much for Wraith and managed to avoid them miraculously. 

“Let’s get you undressed, baby.” Anita’s voice gets Wraith out of her trance. Feeling the weight settling back on her of the last two weeks. Suddenly tired, worn out. Too tired to take off her own clothes and grateful when she feels Anita gently working her out of them. Her warm touch sliding over her bare flesh and it makes Wraith sigh softly, her shoulders slumping. 

When she finally can refocus on the world, it’s when Anita is gently leading her to the tub. Letting Wraith sink into the warm water, the scent of lavender and vanilla quiet in the room. Anita only leaves briefly to return with a few candles, setting them around and turning off the lights to leave a quiet, low glow. 

Wraith watches her quietly. Watching as Anita begins to strip and sighing to herself at the sight of her working out of her clothes. Her eyes sliding over the muscle freshly wound up from Anita’s work out, the scars on her body telling stories not even Wraith knew all the answers to. 

She was picture perfect- even if Anita didn’t think so some days. No one would think the headstrong soldier could have her shy moments, but Wraith knew the truth. When the clothes came off and her dark eyes looked at Wraith as if waiting for her to comment something other than how handsome she thought she was. 

When Anita comes close, Wraith makes room for Anita to slide in behind her. Sliding her legs on either side of Wraith and sloshing the water a bit. Wraith leans back into her when Anita’s arms slide around her slowly, encouraging her to lean back until Anita can rest her chin atop her head. 

They sit in silence, and Wraith knows that Anita is waiting on her to open up. To work through her feelings and talk about it. 

It’d always been...difficult. Where the words wanted to come out, but Wraith’s throat closed. Where her frustrations became something more than just something as simple as a shitty week of back-to-back frustrations. 

Where her memories cannot separate past from present. 

“I don’t know where to start.” Wraith murmurs finally, feeling Anita’s fingers tracing circles into the softness of her abdomen and soothing her immediately. She tips her head back against Anita, closing her eyes when lips press to her forehead gently. 

“Don’t have to say a word ’till you’re ready, Shorty.” Anita murmurs in return, making Wraith at least crack a small smile at the familiar pet name.  

“And if I’m never ready?” 

Wraith can physically feel the smile Anita pulls on her forehead, another press of a kiss there before she grabs Wraith’s chin. She tips it all the way back, straining Wraith’s neck so she has to look up at her. “I have a good way of making stubborn kittens like you talk.” 

Wraith’s face flushes, her heart pounding in her ears and pulling herself from Anita’s hold of her chin to face forward. Anita’s body rumbles behind her with laughter, her nose nuzzling at the top of Wraith’s head and her arms squeezing her back to her strong chest. 

It’s...easy. The thoughts come easy when it’s Anita. Where the words once clog her throat and anxiety eats at her lungs- she can finally find the words. 

And Wraith spills. Talking of her hard week, feeling a weight lifted the second she mentions just how tired and exhausted she is. That she’s tired of being leader, that she just wants to get taken care of and for things to go right. How all her plans have been falling through. 

All while Anita is attentive to her. Humming and going ‘Mhm’ or nodding her head in understanding. Starting to work on washing Wraith’s hair for her, massaging into her scalp and briefly making Wraith’s woes disintegrate with each loving swirl of her fingers and scratch of her nails. The soft scent of lavender and figs filling the room as Anita tips Wraith’s head back to pour water through her hair and pecking a kiss on her forehead. 

Familiar movements come with the conditioner. Where Anita twirls her hair through each strand as if to encourage her natural wavy pattern. Anita was the type to be very particular about her hair, teaching Wraith the care behind it when she expressed interest in doing her hair for her.  

As Wraith’s words start to dwindle down and tears stop pricking her eyes, Anita starts to wash her body so lovingly. A washcloth with vanilla scented soap working all across her body. Her head being practically cradled back into Anita and Wraith’s back arching so she can let her wash her thoroughly. Arching back into her and sighing when Anita moves the washcloth down her body, down over her abdomen. As if pushing all worries down, down, down, into the water below to be later swirled down the drain. 

Wraith can’t really help herself when her breath hitches as bare fingers skim down over her happy trail, down over her mound and then back up. It’s a purposeful tease, one that makes her sigh shakily when she hears Anita’s fond hum behind her in her ear. A small nip to her pierced ear and Anita’s deep tone crooning, “Be patient. Thought you said bath time was a sacred place?” 

“Starting to regret past me.” Wraith huffs, her head straining back in an arch against Anita’s shoulder when her hand starts to come up. Squeezing one of Wraith’s full breasts and skimming over a pierced nipple in a way that catches her breath. It only quickens when Anita’s hand comes up, loosely wrapping around her exposed throat and a low moan leaving Anita’s lips in a way that makes Wraith’s clit throb . 

“Don’t look so temptin'. Might eat you alive.” 

She could make us forget.  

She better watch her mouth before we shut it for h-  

Imagine her tongue-  

Her hands-  

What she could do to us-  

Watch it.  

Wraith’s eyes open just in time to see a bubbly hand come up and a finger to gently tap to her nose. Bubbles linger, popping and tickling and making her nose scrunch.  

Laughter falls from Anita, only to spike up when Wraith squirms from her, grabbing a handful of bubbles to shove into her face. The water sloshes with Anita’s jerk and the sharp gasp from her that’s intended to sound more dramatic and offended than she is. But when she wipes the bubbles aside to look at Wraith’s smug expression, she narrows her own dark eyes. “Oh, it is war.” 

Laughter ensues when Anita lunges forward with a new handful of bubbles. The water sloshing around them and onto the ground as they both try to smash bubbles into each other. 

There's giggling, yells of ‘no fair’ and ‘brat’ being exchanged until finally Wraith goes to splash her and ends up with both her wrists being snatched and held to Anita’s chest to keep her still. 

They’re both panting. Anita’s curls have bubbles popping in them, her skin wet and glistening with the soapy water. Bubbly water swirls down the drain beneath the tub built into the tiles, the floor wet and an even more dangerous battlefield.  

“Truce?” Wraith speaks, looking at how Anita’s eyes narrow with her smile. It’s one that tells her she’s debating throwing another metaphorical punch in. 

“Truce.” Anita finally decides, jerking Wraith’s trapped wrists forward so she can press a kiss to her nose. 

They finally make it out of the bath, but when Wraith goes for her clothes- she's quickly shooed away from them and told to just go lie on the bed after she dries off. 

“Whatever you say, Boss.” Wraith teasingly quips back, quickly getting her ass pinched and making her yelp with laughter as she heads for the bed. Feeling a bit less exhausted then when they had started. 

Lying on the bed dutifully in the dark, Wraith lies on her stomach with her arms crossed under her head and a pillow tucked under her chest and stomach for comfort. It feels a bit exposing to be lying there naked, the sheets feeling cool against her warm flesh. But, Wraith finds comfort in closing her eyes and easing her body’s tension. Knowing Anita wouldn’t do anything to harm her or surprise her. 

When Anita does enter the bedroom again, Wraith can hear the soft swish of clothing on her body. Only mildly disappointing, Wraith’s almost tempted to crack an eye open and grumble for her to get undressed again. 

But words die in her throat when the bed shifts with Anita’s weight, her strong legs straddling Wraith’s thighs and the pop of a cap heard. 

The scent of some sort of oil fills Wraith’s senses first, hearing Anita rubbing her hands together before they start sliding the oil across Wraith’s shoulders and back. Working the taut muscles there first and making a sigh leave her lips as talented fingers slide up the back of her neck and then back down along her spine. 

Anita is god sent with her motions. Even more so when she leans down towards Wraith’s ear, murmuring with her chest pressed to her back and making Wraith feel each rumble of her low voice. “There you go, kitten. Nice and easy, yeah? Relax for me.” 

Wraith hums low in her throat in reply, a sigh following when Anita sits back up and her fingers work down her back and over her sides. Feeling her shift down her body to work more across Wraith’s body and all her taut muscles. Kisses press down her spine, down towards her lower back and kissing each dimple there before the weight shifts again. 

Hands slide over her ass and Wraith tenses up but soon eases. A low moan leaving her when the massaging touches get rougher. Soon pressing to her thighs and pressing them apart until Anita can move her body between them this time.  

If it were anyone else, Wraith would feel exposed. Too exposed for comfort. But...with Anita? She’s never been more willing to rip herself apart, expose all her bad- all her good that came with it. To bust her ribcage open and hold her beating pulse if it meant seeing Anita’s soft, sweet smile that was always crooked and how her dark brown eyes looked at Wraith like she was the most beautiful thing on this planet. 

Wraith’s breath catches, her fingers curling into the sheets when teeth nip at her hip. Soft, pale skin easy to bruise there and making her sigh again when a tongue dips out to taste the bite. 

“Bleh -” Anita huffs, clearly getting a mouthful of oil as she sits up and the moment breaks momentarily. It makes Wraith laugh, shifting to peek over her shoulder to see the way her girlfriend’s nose scrunches and she’s wiping her mouth off on the bottom of her tanktop. Lifting the fabric towards her mouth and showing off her abs in a way that Wraith can’t help but admire. 

“Not your smartest move, baby.” Wraith quips, seeing how Anita’s eyes shift up to her face and narrow in reply. 

“Hey, don’t condescend me.” Anita huffs back at her, reaching and smacking Wraith’s ass just hard enough to make Wraith jump with a flutter of her lashes. “I’m trynna make you feel good. I don’t need you acting like a brat.” 

“Mhh. My apologies, Ma’am. Won’t happen again. I’ll be good.” Wraith smiles through her words, knowing they sound a bit too sarcastic for Anita’s liking with the look she gets. 

Her laughter is smothered in her arms when Anita swats her ass again in a quiet way of telling her to shut up. 

When the tension dies down again, Anita gets back to work of her massage. Working on Wraith’s lower back and easing her once more, working back down to her ass where her hands slide over the plump frame of it. Nails catch Wraith, scratching down the backs of her thighs and making a whine catch in her throat. Another kiss is pressed on her lower back, and that’s all the warning she gets when hands grab her ass and spread her apart. 

Wraith’s face flushes bright red, burying herself deeper into her arms at how exposed she feels. She knows she’s wet too, feeling the warmth seeping there and shuddering when Anita adjusts her grip to make sure she can spread her pussy apart too with the action. 

Wraith can’t help but tip her hips upwards, arching her back and shuddering when Anita moans low in her throat with a, “Good girl.” It sends Wraith into a spiral as her hips jerk into the air without even being touched. 

It was rare Wraith wasn’t in control. She liked having it over Anita- who she believed needed a break from being in control all the time. And just...Wraith struggled with feeling submissive. But in times like this, it didn’t feel so much as submission as it felt like they were equals. Where Anita’s touches were experimental and quiet, always room for Wraith to disagree or politely tell her otherwise. 

It also helps that Anita’s talented hands just made her into putty. Relaxed for the first time in weeks. Her mind thankfully empty except for the thoughts running rampant about being touched. 

Still exposed, Wraith can feel how her cunt drools with slick. She can hear how Anita moans low, her breath close to her skin before her tongue slides up. Licking Wraith from her clit, all the way up her cunt, up further to lick across her ass and along her hole. 

Wraith feels dizzy from how turned on she is. Whimpers falling from her throat unwillingly when Anita’s tongue focuses on her ass. Swiping over her hole, licking and pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses. The pleasure isn’t new, Wraith has been touched like this before, but it doesn’t change how electrifying it feels. 

“God, ‘Nita-” Wraith breathes out, her lashes fluttering when she lifts her head to breathe. Tipping her head back and moaning outwardly when she hears Anita hum against her, her tongue pressing into her experimentally. 

Anita’s rough fingers slide up Wraith’s thigh, slipping briefly along her pussy and collecting the wetness seeping there before her mouth leaves her. Fingers toying now with her ass, brushing wet knuckles across until Wraith feels like she’s going to snap from how tight she’s wound. 

“’Nita- ” Wraith whines this time, her name like a prayer on her tongue as one finger sinks into her ass. Anita’s mouth doesn’t stop though, moving to kiss across her ass instead and sinking her teeth into a soft cheek. Undoubtedly getting more oil in her mouth, but being more subtle about the mistake by dragging her tongue across Wraith’s hip. 

Wraith is practically humping the bed to brush her clit across the sheets. A second finger is introduced to her hole, and her entire body trembles. 

“That’s a good girl. Gotcha purrin’ like a little kitty, hm?” Anita’s voice is rough, sending tremors through Wraith’s body and a mewl following to make her point even more clear. Anita’s fingers pump inside of her, fucking her at a nice pace and sending another jolt through Wraith’s body with a cry. “What a good kitten you are.” 

It’s an experimental phrase. Not that Anita hasn’t teasingly referred to her as a cat before. But in bed? This was new. A new word that only proves to make Wraith clutch at the sheets, mewling and twisting her body as her lower half fills with fire of desire. 

“A-Anita-” Wraith gets out, her breath stuttering and ragged. A third finger is introduced, and she buries her face into the pillow beneath her to muffle her raw cry. Tears fill her eyes at the pleasure, caught between trying to fuck herself back onto Anita’s skilled fingers, or hump downwards against the bed. 

“Use your words, baby.” Anita’s voice is like silk, her fingers rocking slow and hard into Wraith. Dragging them slowly back and pressing back inside, curling downwards into her and making Wraith feel oh so full. 

“Hhh-” Is all Wraith can get out at first, definitely drooling on herself by now as her eyes go unfocused. But she manages at the very least. “Fuck me- just fuck me already, ‘Nita, G-God you’re so good- ah!” 

Hard to talk when your girlfriend can’t get enough of you, it seems. Because Anita only hums at first, still fucking her fingers into Wraith without a sign of stopping. Her tongue returning to lick around her fingers. 

But finally, blissfully, she departs. A small pat to Wraith’s ass and a murmur to wait there and get on all fours being said. 

Sluggishly, Wraith picks herself back up on shaky arms. Moving so she can sit herself up on all fours, hugging a pillow to her chest and arching her back to put her ass nice and high in the air with spread legs. Even going so far as to slowly sway her hips, living up to that cat persona Anita is so fond of calling her. 

She’s watching.  

Wraith can hear fabrics shifting and the loud zzpppt sound of a harness being tugged tight around Anita’s body. She only knows she’s looking because she can hear the mutter of a swear under her breath. It makes Wraith smile to herself, knowing she had such an effect on her. 

The bed creaks and shifts with Anita's weight. She settles behind Wraith, a hand coming underneath her to brush her whole palm against her cunt until Wraith presses down into it in a hump. 

A chuckle is heard behind her before two fingers brush past her enlarged clit, sneaking down until they can slip into her cunt and curling forward. Wraith doesn’t hide her cry, or her eagerness when she shoves her hips back into Anita’s fingers with a moan. 

Wraith knows Anita won’t finger her long- not out of not caring, no. But because Wraith liked the pain of the stretch. It was something Anita had worried about at first the first few times she was allowed to top. Always asking if Wraith was okay, if she was hurt. But nowadays, Anita knew that the rougher she was, the wetter Wraith got. 

“Mmh, hey, Rey?” Anita’s voice is gentle despite her fingers curling into Wraith. It’s hard to hear her at first, but Wraith catches it, humming in her throat quizzically. “Remember when we had our anniversary?” 

It’s not a question. It’s a set up to something bigger. But it’s hard to really be suspicious when your girlfriend is curling her fingers inside of you juuuuust right and her dumb, stupid, gorgeous smoky voice is doing a number on you already. 

So, you can’t really blame Wraith when she practically whimpers out a, “Y-yeah-” without any hint she’s actually listening or curious to what else Anita has to say. 

Thankfully, Anita doesn’t seem to press. Just humming in reply. “Yeah. Was nice.” In a manner that would normally make Wraith suspicious at first, if she wasn’t feeling Anita’s fingers leaving and hearing the shuffle behind her as she comes closer. 

Questions for later. 

Now Wraith can feel the dildo behind her. Anita’s chosen cock of the night was one she was familiar with by now. She can see it in her mind clear as day. A dark, obsidian base to a dragon-like imagery. Thick and girthy, with ribs and bubbles that stimulated harshly. It wasn’t very long, just about maybe six inches, but it was incredibly thick. Fading to a deep shade of red at the tapered head with gold flecks hinting into the silicone. 

Wraith sighs, practically melting so her front rests on the bed and her ass sticks high in the air, thighs splayed wide and ready. She can’t help but move her hips back across Anita’s cock, slipping her cunt across it and letting her breath catch. 

Anita’s laugh behind her is soft and low, her hands grabbing Wraith’s plump ass and holding her nice and steady. “Nice an’ easy, kitty cat. Look like you’re about to purr. That happy to get fucked?” 

Wraith won’t entertain her with a retort. But she does entertain her with a huff, tipping her head so she can look behind her shoulder out of the corner of her eye. Catching Anita’s look, how her head tilts and her curls remain immaculate, her lopsided smile and the glow of the lamp behind her makes her look heavenly. 

Sunshine incarnate. 

And Wraith, the moon, helplessly attracted to her and aching to be within her orbit. 

She’s beautiful.  

She wants us.  

Look at how hungry she is.  

We could have her-  

If she just let us-  

-uld take her, wipe that grin right off her mouth.  

For a brief moment, Anita’s face crosses with worry. Undoubtedly from the milky white of Wraith’s eyes. But with a small smile sent her way to quietly tell her it’s alright, her worry vanishes back to that cocky look and a squeeze of Wraith’s ass. 

“My Ladies distracting you?” Anita says with that same cocky look, that same lopsided grin and gentleness in her dark eyes that makes Wraith’s heart race from more than just arousal now. 

Yes.  

“No.” 

Wraith’s quick reply is met with a laugh. And Wraith hides her smile and playful lie by turning her head back into her arms. 

It doesn’t take long to get back into it. Where Anita lines herself up and gently presses the head in. She’s always so careful at first, always so gentle with her grip on Wraith’s hips. It could be sickening sometimes how gentle this soldier could treat her sometimes. Like glass. 

Like Wraith was something precious to her. 

Wraith groans, shoving her hips back and moaning when she feels the sharp bite of pain from taking the entire cock in at once. She’s greeted with the hiss from Anita, a sharp slap to her ass and a harsh grip that only serves to make Wraith groan. 

“Hey- you’re not in charge here.” Anita grunts, her voice low and blunt nails digging into the soft flesh of Wraith’s ass. Wraith can’t even pretend she’s sorry, not with her moan and how she rolls her hips back into Anita’s for her to just get on with it. “Keep acting bratty and maybe I’ll just have to tie you up.” 

Now THAT gets Wraith’s attention. A weak mewl leaving her at the idea of Anita having to hold her down by the back of her throat, another on the rope binding her wrists behind her back, just using her however she pleased. Taking what she wanted. 

Now that was a thought. 

“Promises, promises.” Wraith manages to choke out through another moan when Anita pulls her hips back nice and slow. Feeling each bump, each rib stimulating inside of her. Apparently, her retort isn’t desired when she feels a slap hit her ass, making Wraith’s body jerk, only to be yanked back roughly by her hips onto Anita’s cock. 

It’s a repetitive motion, one that Wraith tries to keep up with. Trying to fuck herself back onto Anita’s cock or trying to even push herself up onto her forearms to get a better angle. But Anita lets her have none of that, a hand twisting in Wraith’s hair and pressing her cheek back down to the bed, her other hand gripping her hip and holding her still to fuck into her. 

Wraith is a mess under her, clawing at the sheets and trembling under her. Anita’s voice caresses her ear, thick and low and murmuring, “Yeah? You like being treated like this, baby? Like being mine?” And Wraith is so helpless, unable to argue or come up with snarky in time. Only able to whimper in turn. 

When Anita sits up behind her, Wraith can hear the wet sound of maybe fingers in her own mouth before two fingers brush by her ass again. It’s all the warning she gets before they plunge into her, curling and pressing downwards to make Wraith feel fuller and fuller from both holes. 

It’s so overstimulating. It’s so much- she's so close- 

And then Anita stops. 

And Wraith practically screams in frustration, trying to twist herself but still held down by the hand in her hair and only able to exhale sharply in irritation. Trying to fuck herself back onto Anita’s hips and fingers, but unable to with how she’s scooted forward to press flush into Wraith. 

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” Anita’s voice is teasing, dripping with faux sympathy. Her fingers aren’t stilling either, pumping into Wraith and making her feel her own slick drool down to the bed undoubtedly in strings. “Ya wanna cum?” 

“Yes- ” Wraith practically hisses, her nails digging into the sheets and feeling just a second closer to ripping open a rift just so she could get the upper hand.  

“Then be a good kitty for me and make some noise. Meow for me.” 

Wraith’s face turns three shades of red, her heart still pounding in her chest from being on the precipice of cumming. There's a feeling almost like humiliation in her and yet she... 

She kind of liked it. 

“Make me.” Wraith finds herself saying, almost immediately regretting it from the way Anita’s fingers still and pull out of her. The feeling of her strong hands holding her hips and sliding them up and over her waist. 

“Suit yourself.” 

It’s with that that Anita pulls out, and at first Wraith goes to maybe turn herself over, but a hand on her lower back keeps her in place now. Feeling how the head of Anita’s cock slips further up, brushing across her ass and making Wraith’s breath catch. There’s no warning when Anita grabs her hips, sinking her blunt nails in and the head popping into Wraith. 

It almost hurts. Almost. But there’s something about that bite that makes Wraith’s eyes roll into the back of her head with each inch fed into her until Anita’s hips press flush to her ass. 

Oh, what Wraith wouldn’t give just to see what Anita looked like right now. 

Wraith is a mess, squirming and on the same hand trying so hard to hold still. Especially when one of Anita’s hands slides off her hip, reaching under her to capture her clit between her index finger and middle finger’s knuckles to jerk her engorged clit casually. 

Anita knew just how to work her. Just how to drive Wraith to the brink and bring her back down. Until Wraith was squirming back on her cock, choking on a sob over how full she feels and how Anita’s hand slaps lightly across her cunt and makes Wraith’s body jump. Pushing her back further onto Anita’s cock and making a moan choke from her again. 

Anita was going to kill her. And what a beautiful death it would be. 

“You know what I want.” Anita gruffly murmurs by Wraith’s ear. “Gonna make me force it out of you? I can do this all day, baby.” 

That finally seems to do it. A mewl parting from Wraith’s lips, followed by Anita’s murmur of ‘Good girl’ that only makes Wraith do it again for good measure. A shatter of Wraith’s need for control. 

Anita’s fingers hook around her hips again, pounding her hips into Wraith’s ass and fucking her harder now. Each loud slap of skin on skin bringing Wraith closer until she’s stuttering on her next pronounced mewl as she’s cumming. Cumming harder than she think she’s ever done in her life with harsh tremors of her body and sobs of Anita’s name. 

That doesn’t even stop Anita, only making her a bit rougher as she reaches under Wraith to grab at her breasts, thumbing at her pierced nipples. Sob after sob leaves Wraith, squirming as her clit throbs and squirt dribbles down her inner thighs from the intensity of her orgasm. Her eyes roll into the back of her head, helpless but to take whatever Anita gives her. 

And take she does. 

It’s when Anita slows her hips down does Wraith finally begin to catch her breath. She’s drooling for sure on her arms, blinking blearily and making a soft noise in her throat of curiosity at why the pace has slowed. 

“Said you remembered our anniversary, right?” Anita asks in that way that really means it’s not a question, so Wraith doesn’t respond. Not until her hair is pulled and forces her head up with a cry, bowing her back beautifully for Anita. It’s then that she gets why Anita is asking. 

In front of her, on the pillow, is a laptop. One that Wraith didn’t even realize was put there. And on the screen is that video she’d taken. Seeing herself crawl up onto the bed to work Anita into a strap on, her own voice in the video ringing out, “Wasn’t really asking you, Princess.” 

Wraith’s breath catches in real time, the fingers twisted in her hair keeping her nice and still as Anita’s hips start to pound into her. “Keep watching.” Anita murmurs, lips brushing by her ear and sending a shiver through Wraith’s frame. 

She’s made to watch as she guides Anita’s head in the video to her cunt, how she’s covered in Wraith’s lipstick from the night, how she slips her panties past her lips, how Anita looks so adoringly at her. 

Like she is now.  

Lips press to the side of Wraith’s neck, just under her ear and kissing down her neck, down her shoulder. Each thrust sends her body bouncing, jerked right back onto Anita’s cock and hearing just how Anita moans nice and low. The harness must be pressing right against her clit, sending dull vibrations through. 

Wraith’s mouth waters at the idea of being able to lick her raw. 

Anita’s low groan and her hips stuttering capture Wraith’s attention. Feeling her hair released so her hips can be grabbed, her wide hips being held still so Anita can fuck herself into her, humping her ass and once more making Wraith’s eyes roll back. The sounds of her girlfriend cumming making her match as she begins to cum with a cry, equally matched by how Anita slaps her ass and grips the plump cheek with a groan. 

As they both come down from their highs, Wraith can’t support her own weight anymore. Not when Anita slips from her and releases her, making Wraith practically melt onto the bed in a splat. Legs apart, one lightly pulled up, her body shaking and trembling and lying in her own little wet spot with lubricant leaking out of her ass. 

Surprise.  

Click!  

“Anita!” 

The click of a camera following flash and one of the Ladies speaking makes Wraith groan in embarrassment. Hearing Anita chuckle and lightly patting her ass lovingly. “What? Thought you’d like a reminder for later, baby.” 

“Mnnnhph-” Wraith groans in turn, reaching back to swat blindly at Anita who laughs as she slips off the bed. 

From there, Wraith is gently pulled into Anita’s lap- who has set her harness to the side and slid her shorts back on. Gently, Wraith is cradled in her lap, a hand on the back of her head and pressing her face into Anita’s neck where she inhales her scent and the hint of sweat. Anita’s other hand rubs Wraith’s thigh softly, soothingly, giving her a fond and comforting squeeze to her frame. 

A kiss presses to Wraith’s ear, and just the gentle move makes her blush, squeezing her arms around Anita tighter and making a positive noise. 

“How do you feel?” Anita murmurs, pressing a firm kiss to Wraith’s shoulder adoringly. 

“Better.” Wraith confirms in a small voice, her throat aching and her mouth dry. “Little thirsty.” 

“Mmh, I’ll bet.” 

“Anita.” 

Anita laughs at the stern, scolding tone. She murmurs an ‘Alright, alright’ as she gently shifts Wraith off her lap and onto the bed- out of the wet spot on the bed. She’s only gone for a moment before a cold water bottle is given to her, following a sugary pack of gummy prowlers that makes Wraith break out into a beam. 

Easy to please, she’s well aware. But she’s also aware of the way Anita looks at her oh so fondly with a little half smile as Wraith snatches the candy delightedly. 

Once more Anita leaves after double checking Wraith didn’t need anything more physically. When she returns, it’s with an armful of fresh sheets, but at first Wraith doesn’t pay any mind to her being there. 

She’s watching us.  

Peeking up and through her lashes, Wraith tries to hold back a blush at seeing Anita with an armful of new sheets and blankets. The little smile back on her face and the lightest flex of her biceps in her tanktop making Wraith feel how she did the first time she’d ever seen Anita look at her like that. 

Thankfully the silent staring is broken when Anita walks in and shoos Wraith from the bed to take the soiled sheets and change them. From there, she goes and gets a wet washcloth to help clean off Wraith without the need for another bath, also getting her a new pair of panties and one of her big hoodies she took comfort in. 

Anita gestures for Wraith’s arms to go up as she holds the hoodie and Wraith obeys. Only for Anita to pull it down over her head, stopping when she’s at her shoulders while Wraith is blind so she can push her back onto the clean bed. Sending Wraith gasping, only to fall into a giggling fit when Anita’s hands grab her hips to hold her in place. Anita presses kisses up her tummy, pressing a raspberry there while Wraith is helpless and squirming, still caught in the hoodie. 

The torture ends soon when Anita tugs the bottom of the hoodie down to rescue Wraith. Wraith can feel her cheeks flushing as she looks up at Anita, seeing her half-lidded eyes and her fond half smirk down at her. She’s straddling Wraith now, arms on either side of her head and looking all the more charming per minute. 

Wraith can’t stop her racing heartbeat when Anita leans in, fondly pressing their foreheads together. 

“Hey.” Anita softly murmurs. 

“Hey.” Wraith murmurs back just as soft, closing her eyes and turning her head to rub their noses softly together. 

They move back into the bed together. With Wraith tucked into Anita’s arms, her ass pressing back against her and her cold fingers holding onto Anita’s arms around her body. Anita’s chin tucks against the top of Wraith’s head, occasionally moving to press a kiss. 

“How are you feeling, by the way?” Anita starts, resting her cheek against the top of Wraith’s head. When Wraith hums back quizzically, Anita clarifies. “You were upset earlier. Ya know just makin’ sure my baby’s okay. I mean, I know you’re satisfied physically-” 

That earns her a laugh from Wraith and an elbow in the ribs, sending Anita laughing in turn. It’s good she’s got her back to Anita, or she’d see just how much her absentminded ‘my baby’ affected Wraith. 

“I’m better,” Wraith murmurs, pulling Anita’s hand up to her face to kiss her palm tenderly. “Thanks...for coming over, I mean. And just...being with me. I should have told you earlier but I-I was...” 

Wraith trails off, pulling Anita’s hand to cup her cheek and sighing when Anita’s thumb caresses her cheekbone. A quiet and patient understanding as she waits for Wraith to continue. 

“I don’t know- I was stubborn, I guess.” Wraith finishes after a moment. Rolling over to look at Anita and letting her arms drape over her waist. At first not meeting Anita’s gaze, not until fingers gingerly grab her chin, guiding her gaze up to Anita. 

“Hey, I get it. It’s hard asking for help. But you know I’m here for you, okay?” Anita’s voice is gentle, a low rumble and making Wraith’s heart burst into a frenzy again. Especially when Anita leans in, pressing a warm, soft kiss to her forehead. “I love you. For better or for worse.” 

“Your ‘hopeless romantic’ is showing again.” Wraith playfully mumbles, smiling when she feels Anita smile against her forehead in turn. 

Soon they settle back down. Only the soft glow of the fairy lights Wraith has overhead making the room glow. Anita cradles Wraith to her chest, stroking through her hair and down her neck, occasionally drawing or writing mindless things with her fingers. 

One day, Wraith’s mind reminds her. 

One day they could forget the games. Start a life on their own together. 

For better or for worse.  

#Bangawraith #Voidstrike #bangalore x wraith #apex legends #apex lemons #apex legends nsft #nsft #lemon #commissions #princess writing

[rosiehunterwolf]

Face the Music

Prompts: Karaoke

Word Count: 5,572

Characters: Cole, Kai, and Jay

Timeline: Between seasons 9 and 10

Trigger Warnings: Brief Mentions of Toxic Parent and Eating Disorder

Summary: If you ask Cole, there are some things in life better left forgotten. Especially embarrassing experiences that you would prefer not to talk about. They certainly shouldn’t be used as blackmail or as entertainment for others, and everyone should just learn to move on. Although maybe his friends aren’t the only ones that need to move on. 

Link to read on Fanfiction.Net:

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13904278/1/Face-the-Music

Cole burst onto the deck of the Bounty, swinging the door shut behind him. Zane looked up from the control panel, looking startled. “Cole?”

“Zane!” Cole ran over to him, gasping for breath. “Quick, what’s Kai’s cell phone password?”

Zane pulled back, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

“Don’t play coy with me, I know you have the passwords for everything programmed into your database! Now hurry, what is it!”

“I never denied that I did, but why would I tell you? That’s confidential information.” Glancing down at the cell phone, he asked, “Does Kai know you have his phone, Cole?”

“Uh… yeah, if it helps you sleep at night.”

Zane crossed his arms. “Cole…”

“Come on, Zane, help a friend out! It’s important!” “Cole, that is not my secret to tell. Unless it is an emergency, you don’t need to know.”

“But it is an emergency!”

“Oh really? Who’s in danger?”

“My pride,” he snapped. “C’mon, Zane, please, what do you want? I’ll do your dishes for a month! Or- or, uh, take patrol duties for the next three weeks. Hey, hey, what about cooking, you like that, right? I’ll buy you some new appliances!”

“Cole, you cannot bribe me-”

“Hey guuuuys,” Kai larked, popping his head through the door and sliding over to Cole. Before he could even react, the master of fire was plucking the phone out of his hands. “I’ll take that, thanks.”

“Give it back!”

“It’s my phone!”

“I didn’t give you permission to take that video!”

Kai batted his eyes innocently. “What video?”

Cole lunged for him. “I will kill you, spike head-”

“Gotta catch me first,” Kai shrilled, neatly ducking his arm and dashing back belowdeck, laughing maniacally.

“Thanks a lot, Zane. Who knows what he’ll do with that now?”

“I don’t understand. What is going on?”

Cole sighed slowly. “He’s got… a video. I need it to be deleted.”

“What kind of video?”

“Seriously Zane? Can’t you take a hint? I obviously don’t want to tell you.”

Zane just stared at him expectantly.

Cole rubbed his face in his hands. I can’t believe I’m doing this. “He still has the video from… from Laughy’s. With the Sons of Garmadon.”

Zane is smiling now, crossing his arms. “I don’t know why you are embarrassed to tell me, Cole. I was there, remember? I saw you sing-”

“Okay, okay, Zane, I get it! Just stop talking about it!”

“I don’t see why talking about it would be an issue-”

Cole lunged forward, pressing a hand over his mouth. “You don’t understand,” he hissed under his breath. “They’re everywhere. They’re obsessed with that video, and they’ve been dangling it over my head ever since we returned from the First Realm. They’re trying to blackmail me!”

“They?”

“Oh yeah, it’s not just Kai- Jay’s in on it too, the jerk. You think you know who your best friend is.”

“Cole, I think you’re overreacting, what could they possibly do with it? Everyone here already saw you sing, it’s fine.”

“You really think Lloyd, Nya and Pix have spared a second thought to think about me after everything they had going on here? I was hoping they had forgotten about it by now, but if Jay and Kai have their way-”

“I’m not going to help you steal Kai’s phone, Cole. If you need me for anything actually important, let me know.”

“This is important,” Cole yelled after him, but Zane was already gone.

Fine, he huffed. If no one is going to help me, I’ll do it myself.

---

“Hey Cole? Kai and Lloyd want me to play Fist-to-Face 3 with them, will you take patrol duty for me tonight?”

“Yeah?” Cole reclined in the kitchen chair, stretching his arms behind his head. “And why would I do that?”

“Oh, I dunno… perhaps because you wouldn’t want a certain… video to accidentally leak…” Jay waggled his phone teasingly in the air.

Cole stood up sharply. “You wouldn’t.”

“I dunno… would I? I guess we’ll find out.”

“Fine, fine, I’m going, I’m going,” Cole grumbled. “Want anything while I’m out?” “We’re almost out of Doritos. And can you get the strawberry Fanta?”

“Are you a heathen? Who drinks the strawberry?”

“It’s not for you,” Jay snapped. “And for your information, it tastes very nice.”

“Whatever. You at least gonna pay me for this, bozo?”

Jay slapped a twenty into his hand. “This is all I got on me. Buy yourself a little somethin’ with the change.”

Cole mock bowed. “Whatever you say, master.”

“Ah, come on, I’m not cruel, come join us when you get back.” As Cole walked out the door, he called after him, “I’ll save you some Bagel Bites!”

Cole rolled his eyes. He didn’t know how he got into situations like this.

He was really starting to hate that stupid video.

---

By the end of the week, which had been filled with similar scenarios, Cole had had it. I’m not going to take this slander anymore! They can’t just push me around like this, I’m the master of earth!

The monastery was buzzing with the chatter of his friends on the hot afternoon. They were all wearing swimsuits, and Lloyd opened the door, leaning out lazily as a wave of hot air wafted into the cool monastery.

“Stop standing there with the door open, nitwit, you’re letting all the hot air in,” Kai snapped, shoving him out the door, nearly sending him to the floor, before Zane caught him by the wrist with his usual lightning reflexes.

“Kai, there is no need to get physical.”

“Can it, Zane, I’m just playing around, right bud?” Kai slung his arm around Lloyd’s shoulder, ruffling his hair.

Lloyd shot him a glare. “Get off of me, you lump, I’m melting here. Are we going swimming or not?”

“Ouch, looks like someone skipped his coffee today. What’s wrong, baby boy, did I hurt your feewings?”

“You wanna get punched? ‘Cause I will not hesitate to punch you.”

“You wanna throw hands with me, bro? I’d prefer not to have a squished pancake as a brother, but if you say so.”

“As soon as I cool down a bit, you are toast.”

“You cool it, mister. Are you forgetting everything amazing I’ve ever done for you?”

“Don’t mind him,” Nya called to Kai, coming over to elbow Lloyd from the other side. “He gets grumpy when he’s hot.”

“I hate you both.”

Zane sighed. “I swear, it’s like the heat is melting their brains.”

Nya shrugged. “They must have like, low heat tolerance or something. Don’t ask me why they always get so loopy like this.”

“Hey, it’s like 100 degrees, don’t blame me if I’m a little uncomfortable!” Lloyd snapped, his words slurring slightly.

“Yeah, bud, even I think you’re starting to get to be a little much now. Come on, let’s get you in the water.”

As the team shuffled out the door, Jay turned back to face him. “Hey, Cole, aren’t you coming swimming with us?”

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute, just give me a sec.”

Jay shrugged, and Cole waited for a moment, until he heard the door click.

Finally! I thought they’d never leave.

Hurrying down the hallway, he popped his head into the bathroom, where Kai and Jay had just thrown their clothes into a pile on the floor when they had changed. Getting on his knees, he dug through it and pulled out Jay’s shorts, extracting his cell from it. Pulling a slip of paper out from his pocket, he quickly typed the numbers in, and…

The phone unlocked.

Cole broke into a grin, praising Jay’s inability to remember passwords and always writing them down somewhere where a very desperate earth ninja could find them.

He opened the camera app and deleted the video.

There. Halfway done.

Kai’s phone wasn’t in his pocket, so he snuck over to his room and found it charging on the nightstand. Biting his lip, he pulled out his phone and glanced at the camera footage he had captured the previous night.

It showed a bird’s eye view of the living room, and Kai was sitting on the couch, watching TV. As he reached for his phone, Cole zoomed in on the device and watched carefully as he typed in the code.

Okay. Cole repeated the same code on Kai’s phone.

Incorrect Passcode.

Cole felt panic flare inside him. What were the chances that Kai had changed his password in the one night since he’d filmed this?

“It didn’t work because I have one of those fingerprint ones, too.”

Cole whips around to see Kai standing in the doorway, Jay hovering behind him. “Jay told me you were lingering, and I just got a feeling, y’know? That you were up to something.”

Cole huffed, tossing him the phone. “Why won’t you just delete it, Kai? This has gone on for long enough.”

“I like the video, Cole. It puts a smile on my face on the… hard days.”

“Oh, spare me the pity card. I know plenty well that you have more than enough other ways to keep yourself entertained.”

“What about Jay?” Kai grabbed the lightning ninja by the shoulders, shaking him gently. “Think of your friend, Cole. He has no sense of entertainment, he needs something to keep him going.”

“Excuse me-”

“Oh please,” Cole snorted. “Stick Jay on Youtube and he’ll be entertained for hours. He gets distracted way too easily.”

“Oh come on, Cole, this is way better than Jay’s stupid cat videos-”

“I do not watch cat videos!”

“Don’t lie to me, zaptrap, you’re lame.”

“Dude, who’s side are you on?”

“Look guys, I don’t have time for this. Just delete the video, and we can be done with this whole thing.”

“No, that’s not how this is going to work. You’re going to go outside with the others, and forget this whole thing ever happened. Otherwise, this little video might end up on the internet.”

“What?” Cole shrieked. “You can’t do that, dude, it’s an invasion of my privacy!”

“Last time I checked, this was a video of Rocky Dangerbuff, not you. Is it you in this video, Cole?”

Cole felt his face heat as he scowled at them, and Kai and Jay burst into laughter.

Kai slapped a hand on his back. “If it makes you feel any better, it wouldn’t have worked anyway. You really think we’re dumb enough to keep the only copies of the video on our phones? You’d be searching for hours to delete all traces of it.”

Cole balked at him. “Seriously? How many copies did you make?”

Jay grinned. “You forgot this wasn’t a solo operation, dirtclod. I’m the tech guy around here. There’s no way you’ll be able to override my programming.”

Cole groaned, putting his face in his hands. “I hate you guys.”

“Hey, that’s what friends are for, right?” Kai laughed. “C’mon, dude, it’s hot, let’s go swim.” Cole reluctantly followed them out the door, grumbling.

“This won’t go on forever, you guys. Sooner or later, I’m gonna find a way to stop you.”

Kai laughed. “We’ll see about that, Cole, we’ll see.”

---

“Are you sure this is really something I wanna be getting involved in?” The nindroid asked, her glowing green eyes scanning the monitor screen.

“It’ll be fine, Pix, I promise. They might be a little annoyed at first, but within a couple days, they’ll have completely moved on to something else to make fun of. All you have to do is get rid of one measly video for me.”

“Well, I wouldn’t call it that, exactly. Jay went pretty deep with this program. But I think I’ve located the source material.”

“And?” Cole asked, placing his hands on the table and leaning forward. “Does that mean you can delete all the data?”

“Yes. Every known record of it developed into the Bounty’s database will be erased.”

“Do it, quick!”

Pixal turned to the computer again, and Cole held his breath as her fingers flew over the keys for a moment. Then, she pulled back.

“Is it done? Did you do it?”

“Yes. It’s gone.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Cole sighed, slouching against the wall. “I’m so glad that’s finally over. Pix, you’re a lifesaver.”

A small smile played on her lips. “I do what I can.”

“Well, you’ve just saved me a lot of trouble. I owe ya one.”

“We’ll see. Anyways, if we’re done here, I’m going to go help Zane work on those hull repairs to the Bounty.”

“Thanks, Pix.”

When he walked down to the kitchen for dinner that night, for the first time in weeks he didn’t feel a constant dread hanging over his head.

---

The relief didn’t last long.

It was only the evening of the next day when Kai came marching into his room, Jay on his heels. Cole glanced over at them nonchalantly from where he was laying across his bed, reading a Starfarer comic. “Can I help you?”

“You know what you did, stop acting so innocent.”

Cole grinned, stretching. “What can I say, bro, I outplayed you.”

“You could never,” Jay snorted. “You had help!”

“Hey, two against one was never a fair game. Let’s just say I was evening the odds a little bit.”

“Who helped you?” Kai hissed, pointing at him. “Spill, now!” “Sorry fellas, but I’ve sworn to secrecy. You’ll have to find your information elsewhere.”

“It has to be either Nya, Pixal, or Zane,” Jay insisted. “Nya’s the only one with the advanced enough technical skills to be able to override me, and Zane and Pixal are attached to the system, so they can get pretty much anything they want with enough computer skills.”

Kai rolled his eyes. “Great job, sparky, now we've eliminated it down to three out of the four possible suspects. What amazing deduction skills.”

“Hey, I don’t see you doing any better! And it’s actually three out of five. We know it’s not Master Wu, either.”

Both Kai and Cole raised an eyebrow at that.

“Jay, you’re joking. Master Wu. Helped Cole. Delete a blackmail video?”

Cole snorted. “Zaptrap, if Wu ever found out about what was going on, he’d give us a stern lecture, make us meditate for a few hours, then, probably like, stick us on patrol duty for the rest of the night or something.”

“Shut up! Look, it doesn’t matter, alright? If you just tell us who it is, we’ll leave you alone.”

“Fat chance.” Cole got up out of bed and strolled past them, towards the door. “You don’t have anything against me anymore. That blackmail’s not gonna work anymore.”

“Who told you that?”

Cole stopped, turning towards Kai slowly. “What?”

“Who told you we didn’t have access to the video anymore?”

Cole gaped, glancing back and forth between Kai and Jay. “What!? That’s impossible, she-” he bit his lip sharply, cursing himself. “I mean… we deleted all copies of the video. How could you still have it?”

“Aha!” Jay gasped, pointing at him. “Did you hear that? He said she! Which means we’ve narrowed it down to Pixal or Nya!”

Cole ignored him, narrowing his eyes at Kai. “You’re bluffing. You don’t have the video.”

“Oh yeah? Jay, you still have it?”

The blue ninja stuck a hand into his pocket, and, pulling it out, flashed a small blue object between his fingers. Cole looked closer, and felt his stomach drop as he recognized what it was- a flash drive.

“Yep, it’s all in here! Even the most advanced computer codes will do nothing to reach our backup. Looks like you’ve run out of luck again, Cole.”

“Are you kidding me? This is impossible!”

“Come on, Cole- all we want to do is have a little fun with it. Let us keep the video, and we’ll leave you alone.”

“And if I try to get rid of it again?”

“Oh, I dunno, maybe it could find its way… onto social media.”

Cole nearly choked. “Kai! You wouldn’t!”

“Keep your nose out of it, and I won’t! C’mon, Jay, we’re done here.”

Cole flopped back down onto his bed. Social media. Kai couldn’t put the video on the internet. It would be all over the city by morning.

He had said he wouldn’t do it if Cole stopped trying to get rid of the video, but Cole didn’t trust that one bit. Now that the idea was planted in his head, Cole was afraid he could do it at any time.

There was no question about it. He had to destroy that flash drive.

---

Kai and Jay were out on the last evening patrol.

This was the time.

Glancing down the hallway to make sure no one was there, he eased open the door to Kai’s room and slipped inside.

He was fairly certain they would’ve kept the flash drive in Kai’s room, specifically to throw him off after he had seen Jay holding it earlier. Also, Kai’s room, while still a mess, wasn’t as bad as Jay’s, so Cole much preferred to search his, anyways.

But it was still going to be more difficult than he had hoped, he realized with a groan as he glanced around the room.

Kai’s bed had a small stack of comic books and magazines strewn across it, with more on the nightstand and even a few on the floor. His laundry had been mostly shoved into a corner, but a few lone shirts and socks had been left randomly. Most of his stuff appeared to be in bins that had been stuffed under the bed and in the corners, but there appeared to be no order to what was in them, just a hag-tag of random junk, save for one crate in the corner which was full to the brim with various weapons, leaving several of them spilling out just asking for a sliced toe in the morning.

The worst was the dresser, though- there were several hair products lined up, even though Cole knew he already had more than enough in the bathroom, a handful of letters, only a couple of them opened, some more comics, a couple empty cups, and enough earrings and other jewelry to last him a lifetime. Cole never understood why he needed so many. Sure, Kai had a ton of piercings, more than the rest of them combined, but Cole swore he had never seen him even wear half of these. Kai had almost as much jewelry, (or, as he liked to call it, “bling”) as he did hair products, which was really saying something.

Sighing, Cole walked over to search through one of the bins that looked like it may have had the techy stuff in it- or at least, the somewhat mechanical stuff- maybe- or, actually, not really, he had absolutely no idea what kind of system Kai had going on here.

Reaching in, he pulled out a tablet, a flashlight, a spare video game controller, a baseball cap, a worn stuffed dragon, a barrette that he was pretty sure belonged to Skylor- Cole blushed at that one, shoving the box away. These things were Kai’s. There could likely be things in here he didn’t want Cole to see.

He wasn’t trying to snoop, though- all he wanted to do was find the flash drive, and leave.

Turning away, Cole began to sift through another bin. A sword- small and uneven, but fairly solid- this one wrapped away with much more care than the others- had a label scribbled on that read “Kai’s first sword.” A photograph, ripped down the middle, the remaining side with a very young Kai hugging an even younger Nya, and a ripped shawl stained with blood that had never come out-

Cole jumped back. Okay, so maybe there was some sort of order to these boxes. And that one was none of his business. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to look any further, anyway. He didn’t doubt that Kai and Nya had been reserved about their lives before meeting them for a reason.

Cole was beginning to feel guilt weight down on his chest already, cold and heavy. He shouldn’t have seen that. He shouldn’t have seen any of this. He was blatantly disrespecting one of his closest friend’s privacy just to delete some stupid video he was embarrassed about.

I should go.

As he sped towards the door, he tripped over something and fell to the ground with a thump. Turning back, he saw it was a book that he had set aside while pulling things out of the bin, having spilled open after he tripped on it, allowing him to see that it wasn’t a book at all, but a photo album.

It was open to a page where Cole had his arm slung around a very grumpy-looking Kai, ruffling his hair, with Jay and Lloyd bent over laughing in the background. It was followed by a bunch of pictures of Kai with the worst bed hair Cole had ever seen- desperately reaching towards the camera, presumably to strangle whoever was snapping photos. Occasionally, one of the other ninja would pop in, holding him back for the photographer, or posing goofily next to the groggy fire ninja.

Cole felt a grin spread over his face. He remembered that day, when Kai had stayed up so late playing video games that he had forgotten about his hair in the morning- and the whole team had been more than eager to take advantage of the one time the fire ninja wasn’t looking so attractive. Kai had threatened to murder them in their sleep, but he had been laughing through it all, too.

That’s the same thing happening here, Cole realized. I’m being a baby about this. They’re just playing around with me. Like I haven’t done the same to them a thousand times.

Cole neatly closed the book and slid it back into a bin, leaving the room with his heart feeling significantly lighter.

It hadn’t been a moment too soon, either, as when he was walking down the hallway, he passed Kai and Jay returning from patrol.

“Everything okay, Cole?” “I’m fine,” he said quickly, too quickly. Luckily, Jay didn’t seem to notice. Kai raised his eyebrow slightly but didn’t press the issue. “Whatcha’ up to?”

“Just heading to bed.”

“Sweet dreams, little glow worm.”

Jay burst into snickers, and Kai grinned wickedly. Cole put his face in his hands, and brushed past them. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t quite as over this as he thought.

---

The next morning, he was awoken by a knock on his bedroom door. Pulling on a tank top, he opened the door to find Zane standing there.

“What’s up?”

The nindroid had an apologetic look on his face, holding up his cell phone. “Have you checked social media yet?”

“No, why?”

“Kai posted your karaoke video.”

“He what?!” Cole shrieked, ripping the phone out of his hand. There, right under Kai’s grinning profile picture, was the video of him singing at Laughy’s.

“That dumbass,” Cole cried, flopping back onto his bed. “Do you know how bad this is? And it’s not just any old social media account, it’s Kai’s. The guy has like, seven million followers on Ninjagram, and almost as many on Chirp and ChatSnap. This will ruin me.”

“I’m sorry, Cole. I didn’t think he would do this.”

“I didn’t either. He promised he wouldn’t, as long as I didn’t try to delete the data!”

“...Didn’t you, though?”

Cole glowered at him. “Well, maybe, technically, I did, but he didn’t catch me! How would he know?”

“Cole, what kind of ninja headquarters would this be if we didn’t have security cameras?”

“Shit! Why would he be checking that? Oh, I’m never going to forgive him for this.”

“Cole, forgive me, but I think you’re overreacting a little. Sure, it’ll probably get a few laughs, but in a couple hours, everyone will have moved onto the next thing. You’ll be fine.”

“You don’t know that! I’m not just like some random cat video, I’m a famous ninja! Pretty much everyone knows about me, they’re going to linger on this for a while, trust me.”

“Cole,” Zane said patiently, amusement sparkling in his voice. “I think you’ll survive. Come have some breakfast, that always makes you feel a little better.”

Cole opened his mouth to argue, but Zane was already walking out of the room, so Cole reluctantly followed.

Cole sat down at the table, glaring down into his lap, as Zane slipped him a plate of waffles. He couldn’t even make it all the way through his meal before Kai and Jay inevitably showed up.

“Hey Cole,” Kai smiled, “wonderful morning, isn’t it?”

“You shut your dumb mouth,” Cole snapped. “I don’t even want to look at you.”

“Woah, someone’s feisty.”

“I saw what you did! I can’t believe you did that.”

“I can’t believe you went through my stuff,” Kai barked back, and, despite himself, Cole felt himself flinch. “I was just upholding my side of the agreement.”

“Hey, Cole,” Jay interjected. “Look on the bright side. You’re practically famous! The video already has five million views!”

“I’m already famous, you moron, which, in this situation, makes it even worse.”

Jay blinked, obviously not expecting the hostility of his response. “Cole, chill, it’s just a-”

“Hey guys!” Cole looked up to see Lloyd, Nya, and Pixal walking in. Lloyd grinned as he caught sight of Cole’s plate. “Aww, Zane, you made waffles? Did you buy-”

“Yes, Lloyd, there is plenty of whip cream.”

“I’m just checking! It wouldn’t be the first time I was a few minutes late and some hogs ate all the whip cream.” He shot a glare at Jay, who shrugged nonchalantly.

“Ya snooze, ya lose, green machine. It’s not my fault you have no sense of timing.”

“I have plenty of sense of timing! I’m just…”

“Easily distracted,” Nya chimed in.

“Am not! You were just as distracted as I was!” “You’re the one who showed it to me just as we were trying to go to breakfast!” “Well, you didn’t have to watch it, you could’ve just walked away!”

“How could I not? That one’s a keeper-”

“What are you two on about?” Kai laughed.

“There’s this video blowing up on the internet-” Pixal began.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Cole groaned. He glared at Kai. “Now look what you’ve done. You’ve gotten them-” he pointed an accusatory finger at Lloyd and Nya- “laughing at it too.”

“More like them and the rest of Ninjago-”

“Seriously? I can’t with you,” Cole fumed, then promptly spun around and stormed off to his bedroom, locking the door. He flopped onto his bed face first and yelled into his pillow.

He had wanted to laugh this whole thing off. He really had. But how was he expected to be chill when it was all over the internet?

Part of him was just angry with himself, though. Why did he let this rile him up so much? Why was he so upset? Zane was right, it was just another random video, wasn’t it?

Why was it the end of the world if people saw him sing?

---

“Back straighter, Cole.”

Cole flinched at the hit before it came, and the man rolled his eyes. “How do you expect to ever perform well if you can’t even have good posture?”

“I’m trying dad, but I’m tired. We’ve been doing this for hours. Can I go have lunch now?”

“It’s not time for that yet, Cole. First, we need to work on this piece more. Now, start again, from measure twenty-one.

He shuffled through the pages of music, and as he began to sing, all he could imagine was that stern face peering down at him, and all of a sudden his voice was coming out wobbly.

“Tone shape, Cole! You need to keep a consistent tone. Don’t let it sound wavery and messy.”

Cole’s stomach growled loudly, and he flinched at the look on his father’s face. “Please, dad, I’ll be able to concentrate more if I’ve eaten.”

“Fifteen minutes,” his father snapped. “Then right back to work.”

Cole remembered running to the kitchen, worried there wouldn’t be enough time, and eating as much food as he could manage. But it had been too much, his father would be angry with him, what was he going to do-

He had thrown most of it up in the bathroom later that night.

“Cole, you need to try harder. Singing and dancing of just “average” quality aren’t going to cut it when you become part of the next generation of the Royal Blacksmiths.”

“But dad, I don’t want to be a Royal Blacksmith. I don’t even like to sing.”

“Nonsense! This is a family legacy, boy! Do you wish to break such noble tradition just because you weren’t willing to work hard enough?”

“...No, dad.”

“That’s what I thought. Now, back to work.”

---

A knock. “Hey, Cole, can I come in?”

Cole pulled his face out of the pillow, frantic to find it wet. He quickly wiped at his eyes before getting to his feet and trodding to the door, unlocking it and opening it slowly. Kai stood there.

Great.

“What do you want?”

To his surprise, the red ninja flinched. “Can we talk?”

Cole turned and laid across his bed. “What’s there to talk about?”

Kai took a seat on the edge of the bed, keeping his distance from Cole. “Are you… are you actually angry about this? Like, for real? I thought we were joking around.”

Cole didn’t answer, merely grunting into his pillow.

Kai hesitantly scooted a little closer. “I’m sorry. I would’ve stopped if I knew it was making you so uncomfortable. I really wish you had said something about it.”

Cole shrugged. “Well, I didn’t.”

“I’ll take it down, if you want.”

“What?”

“Like, I know it’s too late now,” he said hurriedly, “and that a bunch of people have already seen it, that I’m not fixing my mistake by doing this, but- I can take the video offline now, so at least no one else sees it.”

Cole was about to thank him, when a sudden urge flowed over him. “Y’know what,” he said, sitting up, “No.”

“Huh?” “Don’t bother,” Cole told him. “It’s no big deal. It’s just some stupid video.”

“I thought you were upset.”

“I was. And still am, a little, if I’m being honest. But I’m tired of spending so much time worrying about what others think of me. It’s exhausting, and no fun. It’s time I started thinking about how I view myself.”

“Are you sure? Because I know you hate singing-”

“I don’t, though. I used to like it.”

“What happened?”

Cole shrugged halfheartedly. “Let’s just say… my dad didn’t make the right decisions. Pushed me too hard to be something I wasn’t. Kind of hard to enjoy singing with him barking over my shoulder about it every spare second. Basically sucked all the joy out of it.”

Kai swung his feet back and forth. “That sounds rough. I wonder if my dad would’ve been anything like that, if he… if he’d stayed.”

“You were forced, in a way, too. Forced to grow up too quickly, to raise your sister on your own.”

“Yeah, I guess I was.” He shot him a small grin, although Cole could tell it was forced. “We’re alike in that way.”

“I wish we weren't,” Cole sighed. “No one deserves to go through that.”

Kai laughed dryly. “I learned a long time ago that life’s never been fair.”

“Have you talked to your dad at all, recently?”

“...Not really. I mean, apart from letting him know we were alive and stuff… after the First Realm.”

“Maybe you should reach out to him. Before it’s too late.”

“I know, I know… but I’m not really sure if I want to. I don’t know if that makes me sound like an awful person, but… he was never there for me. They were never there. I know it wasn’t their fault, but… it still stings. Those years, before I came here, were some of the hardest of my life. And I was just a kid! How was I… how was I supposed to…”

“It’s okay,” Cole put an arm around his shoulder and pulled him close. “I’m not sure if I want to forgive my father, either.”

“I wouldn’t blame you. What kind of person treats their kid like that? Judges them so harshly? Oh gosh, why didn’t you say something, Cole, I’m really sorry about that video.”

“I told you, it’s fine. You guys aren’t my father. I know you won’t judge me for my quirks. And, if you want to laugh at me, if the people of Ninjago want to laugh at me, that’s fine. So I’m weird. So I sing stupid songs about glow worms and sing out of key and put on really, really bad disguises. You can tease me all you want, but really, you love me for it, and I’m done doubting that. That’s what true family does.”

Kai smiled sadly at him. “I’m sorry that you didn’t find that out sooner, Cole. You’re an amazing person, and you deserve a family who will treat you like one.”

Cole smiled, slinging an arm around his shoulder. “I already have one.”

#ninjago #ninbingo #my fic #ninjago cole #ninjago kai #not 100% sure how I feel about this one... #it didn't turn out exactly how I planned but that's writing for ya #but while working on another project I accidentally discovered how much I like writing Cole and Kai interactions #so i had to do it at least once for the bingo #hope you enjoyed! #rosie writes