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leafs-lover · 3 years

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If he's lucky I'll let him join

Part 8: Everything's changed

Series Masterlist

A/N: The ending is finally here, don’t hate me too much!

Warnings: Swearing, angst (I think that’s it)

Word Count: 2000

“I uh-“ you bring a hand up to wipe away a stray tear. “I gotta go,” you whisper. Pulling away you practically run to the door.

“He doesn’t want you,” he calls out as you reach the door. Letting go of the handle you turn around, Auston still in the middle of the living room, the exact spot you left him. “You’re going to see him? Fred?” he queries, sensing your next move. Your face contorts and you take a deep breath preparing for his next words.

“I know him, he’s not interested like that, not anymore,” Auston says lightly.

Anymore.

That word stings. When did Fred stop losing interest? Was it when you had the first threesome, or the second? When did he stop wanting you, and how didn’t you notice?

“You’re wrong,” you say yanking the door open and heading down the hall. He is wrong, it has to be. Needs to be.

“Hey,” Fred says opening the door. The smile on his face falls when he sees the devastation written all over yours. “What’s wrong?” he asks, knowing you are more upset than a few hours ago.

He attempts to pull you into his chest but you throw his arms down, stepping around him into his apartment. “Y/N, what happened?” he asks concerned. The large metal door slams shut, the sound echoes through you, the hairs on the nap of your neck standing upright.

“Do you like me?” you ask bluntly.

“Of course I do y/n,” he laughs in disbelief. “I wouldn’t hang out with you if I didn’t.”

“No, but do you like me?” you repeat. “Do you see a future for us? Or am I just an easy lay?”

“You’re not just an easy lay,” he says somewhat disheartened. “You’re a great girl, I love spending time with you.”

That’s not the answer you wanted to hear. That is the answer you have given men before, men have given to you. Normally it’s followed up by some cliché bullshit, “it’s not you it’s me,” or, “I think we’re better off as friends.” It’s the kind of statement used to soften the blow, though it never does.

Sensing there is more you probe him, “but?”

“I just don’t see this being more than what it is,” he shifts awkwardly on his feet, running his hand through his long red hair. With hairdressers and barbershops closed and playoffs approaching, Fred along with a few other players have been growing their hair out. It’s now about an inch and half longer than you have ever seen it before. “I don’t see it…not anymore.”

There it is, that word again. The word that implies you had a future, a potential, but it has been ripped from you. Worse part is you didn’t even know it happened.

“When?” you demand, fighting back your tears. You hear his door gently open, Fred’s eyes snapping up to meet the sound before falling back to you.

“Let’s sit y/n,” he offers. Reaching out for your hand you shake him off.

“No, just answer my question," you plead.

"Y/N," he sighs, eyes flickering over your face.

"When?" You're tone is getting louder, your frustration with the situation, and his inability to explain his feelings, bubbling up. "When did you stop seeing something with me?”

“When you two fucked,” he blurts out, his eyes shifting between you and Auston. “Finding out you two were spending time together, together, just the two of you. I just…I can’t get past it.”

“But it –“

“No, you can’t say it was just sex, or nothing serious y/n, you can’t,” he sighs. Taking a few seconds to compose himself, he continues, “I saw how you both looked at each other at parties last year. I noticed how his breath would catch in his throat when you’d walk in, or how your eyes lingered a little too long on him. It sucked,” he says. His eyes drop to the floor momentarily as if looking at you suddenly hurts, but he finally musters up the courage to meet your gaze once more. Straight faced, Fred’s eyes bore into you with a fear— a vulnerability you’ve never seen before.

“But coming back this season I didn’t really have expectations on us. We hadn’t seen each other much since last March really, we talked a bit but that was it. I didn’t know if we’d kind of pick up where we left off or if it would just be sex. And in the beginning it was just sex, that’s why it didn’t matter when he’d be there too,” he eyes to Auston who is leaning against the door, silently watching the exchange.

“At some point it changed for me and I started to get the idea it did for you too,” his eyes are full of sorrow as they stare at you. “So I ignored the lingering glances when we’d watch movies, or how when we’d make dinner he’d pull you aside for a kiss. I thought it was just a part of the threesomes, and that when he left it was us. Just you and me,” his voice breaks while he fights through the pain.

“I thought you’re mind was solely with me and none of that mattered. Maybe I was in denial, or too blind to see it…But once I found out you two were fucking, that’s when I knew it wasn’t in my head. Some part of you was with him, even if you couldn’t admit it. And honestly if it was anyone else I probably wouldn’t care, but knowing it’s someone you look at that way, I just….no y/n I don’t see a relationship with you, not anymore.”

“I…I’m sorry,” you whine. Frustrated tears trickle down your cheeks as you pull the edge of your hood over your head, wanting to hide your weakness from the room as if somehow it’s judging you.

You have spent the past couple weeks trying to process your feelings for both men, trying to separate them. It’s not an easy task given how you spend so much time with both of them. Internally you have gone back and forth between the two, and you thought it would become glaringly obvious which way you were leaning. Which man your heart was leaning towards.

Hearing Fred, hearing how he doesn’t want you, you realize just how much you want him. How much it is him you want to be with. You realized you never wanted someone as much as you ache for Fred, and it tears you open from the inside out knowing he doesn’t feel the same in return.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he steps forward wrapping his arms around you. “You were allowed to sleep with anybody you wanted, we never talked about it, and we probably should have. Or once I started to feel differently I definitely should have, but you don’t have to apologize, you did nothing wrong.”

That burns. How could you have done nothing wrong, yet you are losing him? If you did nothing wrong he should be yours. Things don’t end if everything goes well.

“Okay,” you croak out, barely managing to find your voice.

He holds you, and for a minute you feel safe. Almost as if the thing you’ve wanted for a year and a half isn’t shattering into a million pieces around you. It almost feels right, you almost feel safe. Your tears scorch your cheeks but pale in comparison to the hollowness in your heart.

He doesn’t let you go, not until you are ready. His heart against your ear calms you down. Each time it thuds, you cry a little less, until finally you have no more tears to shed. Sensing your easing grip on his shirt, he pulls back and places a soft kiss on your forehead. “You two should talk,” he breathes lightly.

Releasing you, he walks away leaving you with Auston. Turning slightly you see him leaning against the wall, having watched the entire exchange. Your eyes sting from the tears but you can still see the despair written on his face.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t give you what you deserve.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

How can he ask you that? Right here and now? He can tell you are crushed by losing Fred, how can he expect you to be so willing to carry on with him as if nothing happened? You’re furious— the pulsating devastation inside your chest borderline unbearable. How you’re still standing is a mystery.

Your voice is barely a whisper as you admit, “I don’t know how to give you what you need.”

“I’m not asking for you to, not today,” he steps forward causing you shoulders to stiffen. “I get your in pain right now, but I’m still here. I want to be here. Whether it’s a week, a month, 3 months. I want to be here, with you,” he smiles at you. “I want you.”

“I…I can’t,” you barely manage a whisper. Gulping you feel tears building behind your eyes. “I can’t do this, I’m sorry.”

You catch a nerve. His eyes turn dark as the muscles begin clenching in his jaw, and he suddenly starts rubbing his hands across his stubble. A nervous tick. He always does that when he’s uncomfortable. Pushing past him you reach for the handle when one of his hands grasps your arm. His grip is tight, likely going to leave marks but he doesn’t care. Leaning down his voice is hollow, “you leave y/n and that’s it. The minute you walk out that door, that’s it.”

His eyes narrow at you, waiting for your response, when you don’t, he suddenly lets go of your bicep. “Auston, I-“

“Are you saying no to now, or no to forever?” he asks. Staring up at him you know he knows the answer, the pain in his eyes tugging on your compassion. You’re relationship with Auston was mostly based on sex, but when you actually sat down and talked to him, confided in him your worries and fears, he listened. He consoled you, comforted you, made you laugh to keep you distracted, but it just isn’t enough.

Fred has always had a piece of your heart, a big piece. It wasn’t until you heard Auston admit his feelings, making summer plans, that you realized he wasn’t the person you wants those plans with. But Fred doesn’t want you, you can’t just forget about the mark he left and move on with Auston. Your heart doesn’t belong to Auston, it belongs to the person who doesn’t want it. You just wish it didn’t take you so long to notice.

“You’ll make some girl really happy one day,” you sniffle wiping away the tears from your eyes.

It’s true, Auston is a great guy, an amazing guy. The blow of losing Fred would only be masked if you had Auston to curl up with at night. He could bandage you up, pick up the pieces. Only problem is he won’t find all the pieces. Or maybe he would one day, but it’s not fair to him to stand by waiting to see what person comes out the other side. And once you do come out, would you still want Auston? Or would his purpose be served now that you were whole?

It’s not fair to string him along, especially if you don’t know if your heart will be his in the end. Everything is going to hurt like hell tomorrow, that much you were sure of, but in the long run, this is for the best. Turning away you grab the handle. This time he doesn’t stop you, this time you walk out the door, and out of both their lives for good.

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phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess · 3 years

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31 Days of Apex Legends

Little bit behind, but I combined Days 1 & 2 (Pride & Friendship)

Chapter 1 of an upcoming fic I am still writing.

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Title: Pride & Assumed Prejudice

Chapter 1: Masks

Something sour lingered on the tip of his tongue, on the razor’s edge of every thought; like a granule of poison sinking slowly into a beverage, unseen as the hapless victim takes a sip. Unnecessary, unnerving, and oddly enough, inducing a curiously debilitating sensation of anxiety for the first time in well over a decade. An emotion long-ago thought cordoned off, and utterly aggravating in its resurgence.

One could theoretically shut it out with enough mental fortitude and regimented distraction, but this tended to only provide short-term relief, for it always returned; faster, stronger, more pervasive than the last time. A creeping sense of wrongness that seemed to seep through every vein, clutching tightly to each breath as it worked to enter his lungs, twisting his stomach at random intervals, and reigniting old memories best left buried in unmarked graves. Unmourned and unwelcome.

At least, that is what Caustic tells himself.

There seems to be some level of psychological impairment at work, he rationalises in the depths of the night when he can barely think for the voiceless fears that make his heart race and air withdraw from ravaged lungs before it can fully impart its gift. The only hypothesis that makes even the vaguest sense is that there is likely a chemical agent of some kind, a poison, being introduced into some facet of his daily routine that is affecting his mental faculties?

Caustic is perplexed to find that his bloodwork runs clean each time, as do random samples of his food stores, lab equipment, clothing, cleaning products, furniture, air filtration units, plants and even toothpaste. Though he runs them often, at random, in hopes of locating the culprit for these uncomfortable sensations, these distractions from his research. Randomising events on his mental schedule each day in order to avoid any other human or non-organic being from identifying his routine again; if they ever even had. And yet, it persists.

Denial is perhaps the only shield that he will not admit to using, in this instance. Though for all his great logic, his knowledge and emphatic belief in the fundamental laws of science… there is still a strange feeling that persists in coursing through his veins. If he would allow himself but a moment to acknowledge it, to let it in and experience the sensation then it may lead to a breakthrough… but at what cost? If the facade falls, then who would he be?

Yet still his whole body feels electrified from within; as if sensing a change coming, like the increased atmospheric pressure before a thunderstorm. Everything that had been built was starting to decay, and it was not clear why now, why this year… why this ridiculous event was the catalyst. Even though such an obvious connection between this heightened emotional state and the particular time of year never actually occurred to the unnaturally overwrought man.

As the days between the present and the event grew shorter, and the other Legends began to ramp up their ridiculous displays of personal expression, the odd physiological effects increased exponentially, until simply existing in the same dwelling had become almost unbearable. It was merely because the others were younger, more prone to ludicrous displays of ebullience, constantly impeding his research with their tomfoolery… yes, that must be it. The reassurances ring hollow, even to his own mind.

Yet still the simple fact remained… that the year previous, as a new Legend, this whole event had been laughably easy to ignore. So why did it bring such distress, such melancholy? What variable had changed between these two points in time that was bringing this insidious juggernaut of disruption to his mind, body and experiment schedule?

Despite what he, at the time, perceived as his best efforts to provide a front of general indifference and borderline contempt for the ‘nonsensical festivities’ of the majority of the other Legends; it became apparent that these actions were not nearly enough to stave off the eyes of the irritating coworkers. Without even realising, Caustic was shrinking away, becoming distant once more and this, in turn, naturally raised a few eyebrows.

Certainly, he was not the most extroverted or beloved amongst their ranks, but at the insistence of Miss Pacquette, that damnable Gibraltar, and the unerringly difficult to evade Salvonian he had been making small forays into socialising in the name of increasing battle compatibility with the others. In the name of increasing battle efficiency, of course.

Caustic’s sudden detraction from even the few low-key communal activities he had begrudgingly begun to attend on a generally regular basis in their shared lodgings, such as the occasional movie night or weekly shared meal, was a blatant signal to the more empathetic and suspicious of the Legends that something was not right here. Some moved immediately to paranoid delusions, others queried if the scientist was unwell or had been caught up in work and forgot; Caustic could always feel Miss Pacquette’s eyes on him these days. Waiting for him to do something she could no longer forgive.

The sting of her derision only made matters worse, silencing all explanations he might give to the others when they arrived at his assigned room; so that all any who arrived saw was a brief silhouette before the door slammed shut in their faces. Assuming hostility, when the words were simply trapped inside; not wanting to admit this disgusting weakness that clawed, bit and screamed every moment of every day.

However, it was the unintended actions that gave rise to what came next; and he could blame none other than himself. For, as the foolish often do, a handful of those in the complex began to conjecture… rumour, if you will, and they spread like an unchecked wildfire. Caustic was not able to tell if they had been an errant thought turned unintentionally malicious or the deliberate attempt of one of his detractors like Loba or Crypto; and as much as he wished to close off the side of himself that felt anguish at these new beliefs swirling between his coworkers… he could not.

To say the rumours were incorrect would be an understatement, but even he could see how the gossip-mongers amongst their ranks had extrapolated a tenuous but alluring hypothesis that slandered his character, from such limited data points as were available. Especially after their foray to… the planet of his youth, most recently.

It seemed wherever he went, that blasted Crypto seemed to be hovering nearby with a smug look on his face; as if waiting for the opportune moment to mention a few inconvenient truths. Did the younger man realise what was happening to him? Could he use that drone of his to deliver a toxic compound into Caustic’s chambers when the scientist was absent? No, no of course not. Mystik would never forgive him… unless he could provide a plausible alibi. Even that particular train of thought was beginning to wear on him, feeling more tangible each time his brain brought the concept up. Actual poison was not the hacker’s style; but social poison, the slow and cruel kind that seeped from mouth to mouth, assassinating without a blade… that might be plausible.

These days, Caustic found his pulse always quickened when he caught sight of the hacker in the living complex, the anxiety making his mind rush through the worst possible scenarios of his secret being openly divulged to the masses without warning; even though some seemed utterly ridiculous. What would happen, after all? The worst case scenario? Repulsion from the others would be one thing, a natural consequence of their newfound awareness of his misdeeds and discovering the depths of his past, somewhat less than legal, activities. A strong possibility that perhaps the Legends would take the rash step of immediately contacting authorities to attend the Legend dwellings; something even Caustic would understand as rational.

Yet still, with his normally formidable intellect being absolutely and utterly subsumed under false assumptions and fallacies; the kind only a mind shuddering on the verge of collapse could generate… far worse fates arose like apparitions behind his eyelids. Such as the bizarre and somewhat infuriating insistence of his anxiety-ridden mind that the other Legends could hear of his past and simply decide to take matters into their own hands; pretending all is well until an opportunity arose to publicly execute Caustic themselves, mid-match with his beacon deactivated, for all the world to see. To denounce him in such a way that none could ever assume they had kept his secret; the disgust on their faces as they would wipe his blood from their skin would be proof enough.

Often in the depths of night Caustic muses on this highly improbable outcome. Yet, he finds that the variable of the scenario that keeps him awake is simply that, in this outcome there was the uncomfortably very real possibility of his Mother inadvertently bearing witness to the second death of her son; a thought that makes his chest constrict with a nameless horror. She loved to watch the games, according to that brat she favoured so much… and he could not put her through that grief again.

No matter how nonsensical, the idea and an uncountable number of similarly impossible scenarios would repeat over and over again every waking moment of the day. And again throughout every second of sleep he managed to wrest from this endless void of uncertainty, until it felt like the only true outcome. Caustic was aware he was not thinking logically, or even assessing all the variables… but his mind clouded it all out with whispered worries to distract, to isolate and distress.

These imagined ends and their outcomes added an almost unfathomable heaviness to his existence; adding unearned gravitas to the myriad of little concerns, worries and secret guilts until they felt like a thick fog that obscured all rational thought. Every little concern, so often hidden from his own conscious mind by a never-ending series of experiments and day-to-day tasks he employed to quiet the thoughts he did not wish to entertain, was now screaming inside. Some days he felt not unlike a speaker, reverberating from the harsh beating of his heart, and almost surprised none other than himself could hear.

No, this was ridiculous. He could not allow this to continue, not if he wished to remain Caustic. As a Legend, as a researcher with endless funding as long as he gave the right results in battle, as a scientist seeking additional data, and… as reluctant as Caustic was to admit it, as a member of the rag-tag team that shared the Apex-funded lodgings. A collective, almost like a-...

The thought always shut off there, twisting to a rapid mental analysis of the other Legends for the sake of anything else to focus on. Certainly some of the other ‘champions’ were irritating and he found it difficult to deal with them for long; but others he had to concede were fascinating, and startlingly brilliant in their fields, many of whom were willing to engage in discussions about their expertise and experiences. Even with mild distrust guarding their words to begin with, until passion for the subject overtook their misgivings.

But, as loathe as he was to admit this to even himself; to Caustic... the legends themselves were something he was starting to feel part of. Somewhat like they were a-... the word lodged in his chest like a blunt knife, something that could cause harm if he ever admitted how far he had fallen into the illogical void of social intelligence. He railed against the term, but logically it was the only apt one available to describe this group of strange people; and that was… family.

Bile scorched the back of his throat as he allowed the thought to flow through him like a soundwave, the sentiment of it far more distressing than the physical sensations; as Caustic been under the strong impression of having successfully managed to cut off all sense of sentimentality, along with his fingers, on Gaea. This feeling, this potential vulnerability, was therefore repulsive.

However… it could not be denied that recently the increased socialisation had brought out some surprising connections and insights with the others. Even simple interactions such as providing a gruff thank you to a teammate for pinging a weapon component whilst looting was noted by the others; and the way that Caustic made certain to inoculate his squadmates before a match. Inconsequential activities, but seen… apparently. He had never noticed their eyes on him during these moments before… and now he felt as if they never ceased their burning gazes on his every breath, every twitch and thought.

As it stood, he was closer to some Legends than others; and had forged several, somewhat tenuous but holding, connections he was not wholly ashamed to admit.

For example, Caustic found Horizon’s expertise on astrological matters an excellent way to pass sleepless nights, when both found themselves in the kitchen for coffee at 2am. Minds full of half formed ideas, or regrets, and unable to speak them aloud to anyone; there was an odd companionship between the Legends, so close in age and so vastly apart in lived experiences. Or, at the least, the experiences of their alibis.

Even through the distress he felt, Caustic could not help but smile as he recalled that their first two meetings at such a location and hour had not gone quite so well as in recent times. For the good Dr Somers had been blissfully unaware that a rather prominent side effect of Caustic’s initial and continued toxin exposure often expressed itself as a bright green glow about his irises; therefore the first time they had met in the pitch-black kitchen at an ungodly hour, the astrophysicist had said some truly profane things and thrown a mug of hot coffee in his direction. Lifeline had not been pleased to deal with burns at that time, no matter how Horizon had insisted they needed a proper assessment of the damage, but the young woman seemed to have found the whole situation quite humorous in hindsight. Often making smart ‘Be careful, Doctor, that’s hot!’ quips when she caught either of them holding coffee.

Ah, but their second meeting of this nature had been different. Caustic had merely been resting his eyes at the kitchen island when Horizon had carefully crept inside the darkened room, footsteps barely audible, and proceeded to make herself coffee on the quietest setting possible. It was, in fact, the sound of her sipping the beverage that had roused Caustic, and Horizon had promptly performed an almost perfect spit take in shock at his ‘sudden appearance’. The stain in the wall had never quite come out and neither of the older Legends had bothered to inform the younger Legends how it had manifested. Though some had their suspicions...

There was a calming energy to Dr Somers, and she seemed to have a distance in her eyes that he could relate to without ever broaching the subject. When they spoke of stars, of technology to traverse the time and space between the worlds, there was a communion of unspoken camaraderie there that soothed in an inexplicable manner.

Of the others, Caustic had occasionally found himself ensconced in fascinating discussions and discourse with Mirage when the pair had found themselves trapped in a social setting, such as lunch in the common area, fumbling for topics. Or more accurately, Mirage visibly sifting for a safe topic to be polite, and Caustic pointing at whatever the man was tinkering with at that moment, in silent question. It was rather intriguing how the younger man’s stutter settled when he was intensely focused on a subject he enjoyed. Although it must be said that now the scientist knew entirely far too much about holographic projection technology, and he was hard pressed to find an application for just such knowledge in his research.

On a more irritating note, was Gibraltar’s continued attempts to convince Caustic that attending events such as karaoke night or some roleplaying adventure evening with the rest of the Legends would be fun, positive, and a good bonding experience; and not at all humiliating, bizarre or definitely subjecting himself to the mortifying ordeal of being known by the other champions. Disgustingly, Makoa Gibraltar was a weapons-grade optimist with a sharp mind behind that disarming smile of his.

Recognising that the current stratagem was not working as it allowed the subject too much free will, Gibraltar had added additional variables to his socialisation experiments with Caustic. Even since, Gibraltar had been occasionally dropping by with a small portion of some homemade meal or other; often with one of the other Legends as an unspoken form of backup. More often than not, in recent times, Fuse would be the person of choice.

The rescue specialist was a very large, very polite man who had gracefully accepted the times Caustic would shut the door in his face to avoid allowing anyone to breach his inner sanctum of isolation and research. Walter Fitzroy was decidedly not.

Fuse was a very charming man, but he genuinely believed that any closed door was an invitation to trial his knuckle clusters on it, ‘in the name of friendship’. The pair would then invite themselves inside, and somehow a conversation would occur about the most randomised of topics, amidst the hidden garden-like interior of Caustic’s quarters. After weathering the scientist’s myriad of multisyllabic protestations about property damage and right to privacy, with mildly amused expressions on their faces, of course. Now that he thought about the subject in detail, the visits had been increasing in duration rapidly in the past two months or so; detracting from his research, yes, but at the same time… Caustic had begun to find himself not wanting to reduce this contact in the slightest.

Rampart had recently asked Caustic, in a quiet moment, if he wanted something strong enough to withstand a knuckle cluster barrage whipped up, because he was more often without a door than with one these days. Caustic had found himself smiling under the mask as he declined; not catching her sly grin of understanding in response. “It’s your funeral mate…” she teased as she left. He still had not had a chance to analyse her meaning or motives in relation to that interaction.

Still skeptical of his motives, but warming, was Lifeline. On the odd occasion, the healer would simply come into the common area to ‘hang out’ with whomsoever was present, and initially this had been a frustrating strain on his limited social endurance. Especially if the runner joined in, or she decided that the volume was far too low for her chosen programs at the time. They had engaged in arguments, which tended to resolve when he left, seeking solitude and silence in his own quarters.

Although, to review the past month or so in subjective data; Caustic was intrigued to find himself less irritated by Lifeline’s choice of audible and visual entertainment than previously.

However, the woman’s unerringly pleasant but smug grin as she would turn and catch Caustic’s fingers tapping the datafile laden table in subconscious adherence to the rhythm of the background music, was still a nuisance. At present, if he attempted to tell her so, Lifeline would laugh or roll her eyes and throw a quick, ‘Whatever yuh say, Doctor…’ in his direction.

Caustic believed that the newfound camaraderie between Lifline and himself was either in relation to a number of recent matches wherein he had had to shield her bodily from a hail of incoming fire while she revived a teammate; or pertaining to his begrudging assistance in formulating an altered version of stim for Octane, with lower health impacts. While it seemed counterintuitive to his stated goal of wiping out humanity; the challenge of forcing a volatile substance into a different composition to improve health on use rather than detract from it, had been exhilarating. While the current formula, Stim 2.3, was by no means perfect, it could always be improved in future testing. In fact, Caustic had been surprised to find himself looking forwards to improving upon the newly created formula with Miss Che in future. Her mind was agile, quick and experienced around medical, political and Octane-related matters. Verbal sparring with Miss Che was akin to mainlining caffeine, and possibly her persuasive arguments may have something to do with how thin his facade was feeling at present. How he was starting to regret his actions, when previously they were buried deep, untouchable, as Lifeline skillfully pointed out fallacies in his logic and ideologies.

Of all the Legends, the hunter Bloodhound, he hunter, was a mystery that continued to intrigue and distract from his research. Caustic had honestly been certain that there it would be highly improbable for the pair to have anything in common; given they were from a world that despised the very technology that his homeworld had embraced with open arms.

He had also felt that perhaps the hunter would avoid him, given Gaea’s reputation around such things as diversity in attraction and gender identification; he knew what was said and not all of it undeserved.

Somewhat surprisingly, it was a shared interest in plants that began their interactions; as the hunter had peered from their room at the right moment to catch Caustic returning home with a new specimen of unknown origin. The GAVN 1.2 bot stationed at the nearby Solace City plant nursery had no knowledge of what species it may be of, but the important matter was that the machine had recalled Caustic’s request to contact him if anything ‘interesting’ came through. Bloodhound had stopped him to ask how a Crentular Vynth bush had made its way to this planet; and Caustic had been so distracted by the conversation that followed that he did not realise they had moved to Bloodhound’s room until his second cup of herbal tea.

That had been the oddly auspicious beginning of… whatever this was. Whether they were now coworkers, or something slightly below comrades in arms, their companionship had been cemented nearly a full three months later on Olympus, when a bullet shattered Caustic’s mask mid-match.

Things had not been going optimally at the time. Their third squadmate was dead; some nameless human who had dreamt of glory and fame, and was now likely in a respawn pod beyond the arena commiserating their loss with the other failures.

Bloodhound was in the process of scouting for activity within and without the building they were currently camping inside; at the far end, if the faintest of footsteps could be believed. Skirting carefully about Caustic’s traps despite the pre-match inoculation provided that assured temporary immunity for the other two.

He had been calculating the potential ring trajectory of the next round, and automatically reloading the mozambique in his hands mechanically, when a careless step had placed him directly before one of the many damnable slatted windows of the building. The first he became aware was a crack, and a split-second realisation that made him jerk back just in time for the kraber shot to hurl his mask clean off and away.

Ducking automatically, not risking a second looking for the person who was definitely chambering a new round in anticipation of taking him out, Caustic had snatched the shattered mask up and slid through the rails to the floor below. Landing with a jarring impact that raised dust, forced air from his lungs, and inspired a violent coughing fit. Panic began to stir, as the reality of his vulnerability became apparent.

To counter this, Caustic set off a nearby gastrap deliberately, obscuring himself amidst the swirling green smog; allowing a moment to focus purely on the issue at hand, and forestall the intense anxiety that the cameras could be observing his features or condition too closely. He could already see the mask was beyond repair, the hoses hissing upon his shoulders as his filtered supply fed into nothing; despair was starting to claw at his chest, tightening it until it burned...

And then Bloodhound was there. Without a word, those impassive goggles took in the scene in its entirety as they crouched down by his side; pulling a small spare mask from one of the many pouches on their belt, without the slightest hesitation, and pressing it to Caustic’s face. “Here, breathe easy felagi fighter.” they said, nothing more, nothing less.

The filtration hoses hissed a moment more before the hunter had them shut off at the valve, so as not to waste more of the carefully balanced components. The mask adhering quickly and filtering the more violent components out of the air automatically; as Bloodhound needed, given their own damaged airways. Caustic may not believe in their All-Father, but he could almost admit to himself that it was very fortuitous they had been there that day.

When the smog cleared, vanishing as it dispersed to a minimal level, the crisis was over and his panic subsumed. Bloodhound clapped a hand to his shoulder and rose, making a statement of thanks in relation to receiving ammunition. A weak cover, but one they hoped viewers would be satisfied with; feel no great desire to dig for more information on this brief ‘green-out’.

“Come, there are three squads remaining, we have foes to slatra.” they offer, and he rises quickly to follow. Win or Lose, Caustic had felt confusingly like he had already received some small victory that day; though to put it in words was beyond even his skill.

Unfortunately, the downside of increased awareness of other human beings was that they tended to request opportunities to strengthen the bond. Of all things, the Hunter and the Salvonian now wished Caustic to go camping with them; in Kings Canyon or some equally feral locale, where they may all die of undercooked food or rabid wildlife. As disagreeable as he found the idea, Caustic found himself rapidly running out of excuses as to barriers that would forestall his presence on such an experience. And just the other day, before this intense sensation of dread descended, he found himself considering purchasing a prowler-proof sleeping bag… which had been a definite call for self-reflection at the time.

Indeed, when he thought back over the past few months… Caustic found that he had had at least one small interaction of moderate-to-positive success with all of the other Legends. Even with that know-it-all Crypto. Though Caustic strictly maintained that the whole scenario had been pure happenstance; and not any display of coworkerly or implied sibling affection.

If the young brat had just so happened to be tinkering with his little drone at the kitchen island and required a tool that Caustic, also present and working on his own project, had just so happened to have on him at the time… so be it. Truly, Caustic was not even certain if Park had realised who had supplied the multitool that had readily slipped into his grip on request; although, the fact that it had been returned nonetheless to his quarters, possibly by drone through a window he had forgotten to close overnight, gave a different impression.

Ironically, whenever Caustic finds himself thinking about the other Legends recently, shades of distress, distrust and uncertainty began to fill his limbs with lead and his mind with a million illogical questions. Did Loba’s smile at breakfast mean she was intending to out him to the others? Was it normal for Revenant to ask to view his research on gases with compounds that could corrode organic metals? Was the laughter between Wattson and Wraith about him? What made Bangalore watch him instead of the screen during the movie night two weeks before? Why did so many whispers stop when he moved closer? When was the last time Gibraltar had used the phrase ‘hey buddy, you doin’ okay?’ with any other Legend?

Who. When. Why. How. What. An endless merry-go-round in a carnival of horrors, all of his own devising… and there was no way to signal to the ride operator that he wished to exit. What was wrong with him?

Or, was there something wrong with him, at all?

Perhaps this was normal, for someone whose life was close to its ending. Didn’t people feel distress over regrets and mistakes in their life?

Desperate for a concrete reason, Caustic ran diagnostics on his blood and biometrics at least twice a day, and yet felt disappointed to find no significant progression in the disease. For if not the disease… then what was this?

Days wore on as he remained confined to his quarters for all but the most necessary outings. He did not see or hear how the household was becoming more and more colourful and the Legends pre-celebrating. Glancing out his window at the billboards in the city beyond, his lip curled derisively; ah, the corporations became more sycophantic as time wore on, disgusting. But all he could focus on was the manner in which this swelling sensation of anxiety was drowning him; Caustic was awash in a sea of tumultuous negative emotions with no sign of rescue. Quietly hoping that none would come.

It felt, constantly, as if he had an anchor bound to his ankles; the chain a cruel twisting thing, cold and rattling in the currents, always just long enough so he could bob above the despair for short periods of time before another wave crashed down. Caustic was beginning to wonder if it was worth trying not to drown at all...

Unbeknownst to the scientist, his absence was noted, and some were more concerned than others. The sudden withdrawal from household life drew attention from concerned parties with irritating accuracy; and he found himself subject to gentle half-questions that sent his blood pressure skyrocketing, his hands balling into fists to hide their shaking, and his mind racing to decode the hidden trap within the questions. Overwhelmed, Caustic responded by pulling back from the internal life of the Legends with greater fervour, trying to handle this situation himself; hating that it had come to such a ludicrous turn of events as this.

It was only when he was in the depths of despair and fighting to hide this from himself, that Caustic himself began to hear the rumours swirling about. Abhorrent, pervasive, and inaccurate… but easily believable if you lacked critical thinking skills. They made him feel more vile and misrepresented than the original advertisement campaigns for his arrival as a legend ever had. All that fabricated nonsense about being a verified and diagnosed sociopath; when it was only partially true, mixed with showman’s flare for the sake of selling him as the villain to the public. But these rumours… gossip rag conjecture, utter debasement and filth. Easy to believe… and in the mouths, hearts and minds of the people he had somewhat began to trust.

~)0(~

“It ain’t his fault, he’s from Gaea, yuh know?” whispers one legend to another, in a tone so casual that the sentence was doubly alarming to have come from seemingly out of nowhere. Caustic nearly drops the mug he is holding, mind shocked into momentary pause, at the statement. At the implication behind it.

The other sighs, “I know they’re, uh, different about things… but I thought that being in Solace City this whole time might have…” There’s a pause. “Well, you know, shown him a different reality… he’s already made progress in being an okay human, or something like it. Thought things were going okay, caught him smiling at one of Rampart’s jokes the other day… ”

“Yuh best keep it quiet though, don’t want the media gettin’ wind of this or it’ll be a problem.” hisses the first, acutely aware of how the media at large takes any vague hint of something, right or wrong, and runs with it. For the last six months magazines had been declaring that she was ‘going to propose to Wraith anyday now’ because they’d been snapped shared a sandwich at a Legend event a while back. The online forums were a constant minefield, even if some of the fanart was well-done.

“Oh yeah, I’m not going to put anyone through that deliberately, my dearest fiance-to-be…” the other laughed back. “You think surprise-portalling him into the middle of the parade would help? Or do Gaeans drop dead if confronted with new ideas without any warning?”

Just as despair was filling his heart like a lead weight, the rumours like tiny knives in his heart, filleting the memories he held about someone now lost… another combatant enters the ring. So to speak.

“Enough!” snaps a third, highly unexpected but nonetheless welcome, voice. The word hissing between what can only be clenched teeth, in a normally serene face.

Caustic finds himself holding his breath as he presses close to the kitchen wall nearest the common room entrance; desperate to hear more, despite his stomach churning, wanting him to flee this whole situation. It boggled the mind, after all he had done… Miss Pacquette, coming to his defence? How could she find it in herself to speak on the behalf of such as him?

“Listen to me, and hear me when I say that not all of Gaea’s citizens think in such a backwards manner… you cannot assume because people are poor, from a small place on their world, or work on farms that they all perceive things so narrow-mindedly. There is acceptance on Gaea, in much the same way that there are pockets of intolerant people on Psamanthe and Salvo who believe that robots are not sentient, or people of different races cannot be allowed to love one another. There are good people there too...” Wattson says, voice rising with the internal fervour of righteous anger. She was so very like her father, unable to allow someone she cared about to go undefended when people brought slander to their doorsteps. If someone raised a knife to his back, she would put up a fence to bar their way, and then continue to tell him off for his inappropriate actions from the months before.

In the brief silence following her statement, shuffling is heard, and it is clear something is happening though he dare not attempt to see in. He would be sighted for certain.

In a calmer tone, almost too soft, Wattson continues. “I once knew a man from Gaea when I was very small. He was… very important to my Papa, and to me. They worked together for many years, and I believe that they loved each other just as deeply as Papa and Mama did. He was always very kind to me, like a father you could say, even on his darkest days he was always ready to make me feel happy.” She took in a shaky breath. “Many of my youngest memories involve him, from my first baking soda volcano, to my recovery from the ‘ghost’ incident; not to mention the first attempt to create my sparks… and then the hour or so we spent resetting the powergrid for the whole map due to the short we made. He was a good man, if very obsessed with his work; as Papa was. Driven, you could say.” She sighed sadly, in a way that made even Caustic’s shaking arms want to wrap around the younger woman in comfort. “But he was forced to go home many years ago because he was having a disagreement with the company overseers about a new project they assigned to his research team. He was so angry when he left, and I wish I could have had a happier memory to keep of him. I only discovered later why he was so… you see, Papa mentioned that his team was assigned the goal of manufacturing a way of purging unwanted biological urges through aerosolised disbursement in the general population, and, well… he did not agree.”

There’s a sharp inhalation of breath from a few too many voices for simply two other people to be present in the common room. Given what the ruling bodies of Gaea were known to stand against, it did not take much guesswork around the applications of such a project.

Caustic had always liked to break accepted ethical conduct on the odd occasion to get breakthroughs that pushed science to the edge of a new frontier, but even he had been abhorred by the very concept. Caustic closed his eyes, recalling the very arguments he had had with his then-superiors about the situation; and how he had even held out the ‘impeding human rights’ card as a final way to thwart the project. The cold smirk on thin lipped faces as he was informed that none who would be affected could be counted as a true human until they were cured of their odd notions… it was a miracle he had restrained from using his fists there and then.

His ‘compliance’ was bought with a simple reminder of how very important the company’s healthcare policy was to Caustic’s mother, at the time, and how it would be a shame to have it terminated alongside his employment. Feigning defeat, and hating himself, he had made a show of deferring to their wishes. Those pompous, self-inflated fools had taken him at his word. That was their first mistake.

Caustic jerks slightly, as if he has fallen out of his own memories and back to the present, bodily. Finding Miss Pacquette still speaking, her voice growing ragged with emotion.

“He… he died shortly after leaving us. I was devastated that he was gone, but even more so for the way it had happened. I could not imagine the fear and sadness he must have felt as the lab burned around him, with his entire research team. All they ever found was a charred corpse and two fingers that had enough DNA remaining to confirm his identity.” A soft sob shocked out, before she masterfully pushed it back. “U-Unfortunately for the company it seemed that all of his research and specimens on the topic burned with him; and some kind of alternate chemical residue coating the lab after the fire made the building unusable. Sometimes… I wonder if it was deliberate, for him to have taken it all with him. To be honest it would not surprise me in the least, he was as stubborn as Papa…” Natalie trailed off, clearly upset by the recollections. “Oh mon dieu, I do not mean to be so silly… I just miss him and Papa so much! And now you are all being so awful about the only person who… who reminds me of them, and I know he is difficult but there is good there, somewhere.”

Caustic’s teeth grind until it is agony. He longs to comfort her, even now as a full fledged adult and not the doe-eyed little girl who always wanted his attention... but how would that look to their comrades? Would she accept it after what he had tried to do? The anxiety wrings his stomach out like a wet rag, and locks both legs firmly in place. The scientist is disgusted with his weakness, debasing himself internally even as he countered with the simple truth of not being able to fight your own brain when it had decided on a Freeze response to distress.

He can clearly hear Lifeline and Wraith providing quiet soothing statements to Miss Pacquette, and it lessens his own distress over hers. Until he hears the one voice he would prefer never have been party to the conversation, speak up. “What was his name?” A general query, curiosity and a hint of foreboding there, as if the puzzle pieces were sliding together in the younger man’s mind.

Caustic’s heart freezes in his chest. Of all the Legends, why must Park be the one to overhear this tale? He who knows too much already...

There’s a soft muffled sniffle, muted most likely by Wraith’s shoulder, before Wattson replies; utterly unaware of how she was putting the final nail in his aliases’ coffin. “Oh, did I not say? His name was Alex… or I suppose Alexander. Dr Alexander Nox…”

The sound of Crypto’s drone clattering to the floor almost swallows the high pitched shattering of the ceramic mug meeting the kitchen floor. Almost, being the operative word.

By the time anyone has a chance to check the kitchen, Caustic has long since made a tactical retreat to his room. The racing thoughts feel like they are wrapped about his throat, constricting his chest until he can barely breathe. Hoping that none saw his frantic flight back to the safety of familiar walls.

~)0(~

#apex legends #caustic #please tell me if its too ooc #i have been agonising over chapter 2 #it was meant to be a short little fic and now chapter 2 feels very ooc #31 days of apex

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unimpressedperson · 5 years

Text

Jackpot | pt. 3 [FINAL]

(Found this picture in @youthstuffs , thank you for posting it)

Genre: Fluff and Crack, I guess…

Warnings: None

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x @taesbetch , Kim Namjoon x Reader

Word Counting: 8.5k

Synopsis: Nya spent her whole life in Las Vegas, she would never imagine that local knowledge would ever be useful. However, her vision changed when Kim Seokjin appeared and introduced her to a few friends, film producers, whose needed guidance through Las Vegas underrated places for a movie. She agreed in working for them, and in that moment none of their lives would ever be the same. What happens in Vegas, not always has to be kept in Vegas.

A/N: Heeeeeeeey Nya!! Finally the last chapter! The oneshot has originally 20.958 words, so I decided to split it in three chapters. It’s the final one. The closure of this rhapsody (am I cocky, lol?), yeah. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing, ‘cuz it was fun talking about RPDR, movies, Vhope, Jeon Seagull, Namjoon, you, Dragon! Yoongi au spitting fiiire oooh, Star Trek references, etc :) Forgive any grammar mistakes.

- x - x - x - x -

Yoongi knew it. He fucking knew it in the moment Namjoon began contending about some girl willing to guide them through Las Vegas. He saw back in then that something would rotten up during the process. Nothing could ever go soft and swift, every damn time, Kim Namjoon would come up with some drama, or Hoseok and Taehyung would fight, or the pipes from their filming location would BUST IN GEYSERS FROM EVERY WALL AND FLOOR.

He could gain money by showing off his auguring powers. At least from some dumb folk like Namjoon.

They worked together for 10 years. A decade living through ups and downs, but what kept their Cinematography Company moving and succeeding was the timing. Namjoon directs a successful movie, then gets involved with someone, breaks up and directs a shitty movie. It was a cycle in which Yoongi never complained and watched happening time after time. In 10 years, Kim Namjoon proved to be a genius and that he acknowledge the romantic vicious cycle, never defying it by getting involved with someone after almost breaking their business.

In situations of risk like these, Yoongi takes over his Spock role and always gives good advices to Captain Namjoon. It was his Vulcan power, after all. The Enterprise never bankrupted precisely because everytime one of the bosses made a bold move or a bad decision, someone would soothe it with a better idea or stopping before happening.

This time, though, Namjoon was being a stubborn bitch. Yoongi considered the idea of poisoning him and keeping the whole company under his name and charge.

Oh, he really pondered and even searched for undetectable poisons, but their 10 years story spoke louder than the homicidal side of Min Yoongi.

Kim Namjoon and Min Yoongi met whilst working. They were producing the songs from a soundtrack, after so many nights of writing and playing instruments, sometimes all by themselves, their similarities brought them closer. A beautiful and honest friendship blossomed, nurtured with honest, curses, talent, humor, sarcasm and a lot of partnership.

Eventually, their dreams became way too big and only working for a company wasn't satisfying them. With their savings combined, Namjoon and Yoongi registered a firm called “Enterprise Inc.”. They had the name and ideas, but only when Taehyung and Hoseok appeared that their machine began working.

Independent movies were becoming a trend, so their company grew and more people got hired to different task. Jimin, Jungkook, Emerson, Jade, Taylor, Shmaillah, Zariah and Robin were now part of their big family. They treated each other like relatives.

However, since not everything happened smoothly, Namjoon also had his flaws. Unfortunately, his passion and volatility affected financially their business and finances. Kim Namjoon loved loving, but his kind of love changes fast and finishing a relationship always turned him into a grumpy man.

His longest relationship lasted 1 year and a half, with an author and professor of Creative Writing at London Institute of Art, Barbara. Unfortunately, their break up made Namjoon extra unbearable, to a point where the actors hired would quit and the filming had to be stopped. His mood swings almost led Enterprise to declare bankrupt.

Of course Yoongi dated, actually he's been officially living with Emerson for over five months, but his personal life never affected the professional. Home feuds stayed at home, even because his girlfriend worked as head from the Enterprise's Marketing and Advertising department.

After discussing, they slept for four hours. Yoongi always valued his sleep and would rest whenever (and wherever) possible, but their argue made the atmosphere inside the room unbearable. Namjoon couldn't sleep as well, he knew Min was right, but and if he allowed himself getting closer to Nya, then doubtlessly at some point would end up falling for her. Namjoon was an assumed romantic mushy, but with a volatile heart.

They went to the buffet, dragging a sleepy Jungkook and an awaken Hoseok jogging, dancing, humming and texting his boyfriend, also animated and sending copious audios thrilled with the last night events. Even though it was already noon, people having breakfast could be seen all around.

— I can see a whole bunch of people with last night’s makeup smudged. Walk of shame, guys. - Jungkook murmured after drinking a whole mug of coffee.

— You walked in the hotel with someone else’s skirt, smudged makeup and cummed pants in a brown paper bag. Walk of shame, bro. - Yoongi grinned and stared at Jungkook.

— Last night was nuts, wasn’t it? - The younger one asked, sipping from his second mug. - We started in a bar and end up in a Ball. What the fuck, I love my life.

— Yeah. Crazy night. - Namjoon disassembled himself from the conversation with a sweep of hand.

Jungkook could feel the tension around. Namjoon and Yoongi were clearly pissed at each other, and it was palpable around. The air was borderline toxic with so much electricity. However, Jeon could rightfully guess why. In his time working for Enterprise Inc., that same negative energy surrounded them plenty of times before. Currently, everyone knew their financial situation, since two actors decided to leave the project in order to get away from Namjoon and his bad temper, and one actress who broke contract after being casted to a bigger production.

Min Yoongi and Kim Namjoon were great egos and minds. Working together represented war and success. They bickered, yet found ways to reconcile and respect each other’s differences, at least during toil days of finishing every detail, since both were also meticulous with lighting, angles, planning thoroughly even colours and shades. In fact, Jungkook graduated in cinema, but most of his practical knowledge was obtained by watching his bosses.

For a matter of fact, Jungkook could have chosen to remain in Korea and work with K-Dramas, movies or even MVs. Their cinematography industry was in constant growth, Jeon would never actually be unemployed, mainly with his fame as an idol. Even though his payment wasn’t the highest one, residing in London wasn’t impossible or uncomfortable, he could be classified as a wealthy lad, since the fame acquired during his boygroup years still paid him for image copyright licensing.

Jungkook was so famous in Korea, that every film produced by Enterprise Inc. sold like water on desert. Their film grossing came 6% from Seoul only. His stardom reached such a level that Jeon Seagull was mentioned beside great names like BIGBANG and Super Junior.

When Jungkook became 25 years old, his biggest fan club in England during a whole month sent 25 roses to the Enterprise Inc. building daily.

Although, even with fame and constant proofs of how influential he still was, Jungkook felt good by being treated like a younger brother. No one gave him a special treatment or rolled out a red carpet whenever he walked around. Once, after having a small party at Yoongi’s place, he vented with his hyungs about fame and all, Min Yoongi stared at him blankly and said placid:

— I couldn’t care less about your idol life and shit. For me, you are Jeon Jungkook and works with film editing, you can even sing whilst doing your job, but it will never earn you a golden star.

It worried him watching his hyungs and main inspirations brawling, probably over Namjoon’s love interest in Nya and how it would affect his work. Also, Jungkook knew about money problems and thought about offering some cash to help and stabilize their finances, however everyone knew Yoongi would rather sell a kidney before accepting any loan.

— NOO!! - Hoseok yelled and punched the table, cell phone still on his other hand and eyes furiously staring at the screen. That unexpected behavior startled everyone.

— What happened? Did someone die? - Namjoon questioned, genuinely worried.

— No! But someone is about to! Taehyung finished watching The Umbrella Academy without me! I'm going to kill my boyfriend! - Hoseok declared and began typing furiously.

- x - x - x - x -

Nya felt an apprehension in the air, like something was off. Namjoon and Yoongi barely looked at each other, definitely not a subtle change from their past behavior. It could be only a hangover, or not. Well, she wasn’t in such position to question them.

Whilst Namjoon and Yoongi were silent, Hoseok and Jungkook were jamming to whatever played on the radio, creating choreographies out of blue and pulling the grumpy men. Maybe in a common day things were like that, very balanced: two neutrons and two protons.

Their last demand was going to thrift shops, and places selling wigs. Their desire was an order, so Nya chose “Opportunity Village Thrift Store” and Honey’s favourite place to buy wigs.

The ride to Opportunity Village seemed to last forever. Namjoon wanted to talk and have fun along with Nya, Hoseok and Jungkook, but Yoongi could consider it flirting and throw a homeric tantrum. Oh, he would die out of embarrassment.

Arriving was a relief. Yoongi stretched his legs and stared at Jeon. Before leaving the hotel, they decided that having Yoongi always sitting on Hoseok’s lap wasn’t fair, so using their best tool of democracy (a.k.a rock, scissor, paper) the last ones would play to decide who would flump and who would be flumped. In conclusion, maintaining a Jungkook steady during a car ride isn’t comfortable.

Opportunity Village Thrift Store looked huge. Garment tracks, clothing rails, huge baskets and hampers with colourful fabrics and shoes. It felt like a paradise and a warzone. Namjoon seriously considered the idea of diving in one of them, only to test how it feels like, but kept a composed behavior.

Nya got in and pulled a huge pink coat from one of the baskets, throwing it in Yoongi’s direction, whose first reflex was to deviate, watching the fabric becoming a puddle on his feet. He picked it up and dressed. Understanding it as an ice-breaker, everyone else decided to have their fun exploring what the store had to offer.

— I’m gonna pop some tags. Only got 20 dollars in my pocket. - Hoseok began singing happily, getting out from the fitting room with a huge ass fur coat covering down his knees, pink glasses and platform shoes.

Jungkook was with his body halfway in one of the baskets, but after listening the fitting room’s door opening, he stood up using a baseball cap, a t-shirt made of black tulle with Xs covering the nipples. Hoseok never behaved discreetly, but seeing him all dressed up and singing Macklemore, it made Jeon cackle and sit on the ground.

— You look like an asian version of Elton John on a budget! - Jungkook managed to utter between guffaws.

Before Jungkook died out of laughter, Namjoon showed up with a brown ushanka covering his lilac hair, white jacket with voluptuous shoulder pads and a brown clutch. Jung was about to pronounce something, when Kim opened a huge and glittery fan that was hidden inside the jacket’s pocket.

— You look like a cheap version of Adam Lambert, Jeon. - Namjoon sounded serious, but a quirk dimpley smile took over his features.

Everyone laughed and looked around for Nya, since Yoongi was anything but undercover with his bright pink coat, sitting on one wooden bench close to the fitting rooms, he typed something on the cellphone, a deadly serious face, not even paying attention to all foolery.

The woman emerged from the third and last fitting room. She was using a dress made of golden sequins, her cleavage in evidence and left leg standing out of a opening. Namjoon, Jungkook and Hoseok shut up and stared at her in awe.

— Can someone please make a joke so I will feel less embarrassed? - She muttered, cheeks getting warmer and redder with their eyes laying on her stunning figure.

— Nya, Big Bird from Sesame Street called. - Yoongi pronounced without looking at her, still typing and unfazed. - He wants his drag queen dress back.

They got back to laugh until tears were streaming down their faces, even Yoongi giggled a little. Everyone went back inside a fitting room, dressing back their own clothes and going out, looking for more funny outfits.

…

Namjoon and Nya would never understand or feel able to explain how, but somewhere between laughing at a pair of ugly ass shoes and grabbing more stuff to try on, they found themselves making out inside one fitting room. Sitting on the ground, her legs straddling him and his hands cupping her ass, their mouths connected and only separated looking for air (or taking turns in kissing necks), lips moving in sync and desperately grinding against each other.

After a few minutes swirling tongues and trading saliva, they stopped gasping for air, foreheads touching and now fingers intertwined, laying on Namjoon’s lap. Nya smiled and gave him a quick peck, without saying a word. They agreed in making out without pronouncing syllables, got there and began smooching, not a single sound needed.

Namjoon moved his hands and posed them on her waist, smiling whilst staring and decorating every feature from Nya’s attractive face. The dimples, oh those dimples, she held his face and began kissing those goddamn cute details. Namjoon moved his face a bit, getting back to peck her lips passionately.

— I don’t want to leave this fitting room ever again. - Namjoon whispered watching Nya hop off his lap and sit beside him, laying her head on his shoulder, a long arm enveloping around hers.

— If we are going to do something else, then we gotta leave. - Nya murmured and caressed his clothed knee, making small heart shapes there.

— I like the way you think. - His free hand lifted her chin leaning a little to kiss there again.

Before they could even think about continuing the make out session, a loud knock on the door was heard, startling them. Namjoon froze on his spot when a deep voice was heard, most specifically Yoongi’s voice.

— Kim Namjoon, why is Nya inside a fucking stall with you? - He sounded pissed off and it scared even the woman.

— W-who told something about Nya being here? - Namjoon questioned, trying to keep his cool.

— Who told me? A blue bird appeared to tell me. - His sarcasm sharp and killer like a knife, as always. - I COULD HEAR SOMEONE WHIMPERING FROM THE FRONT DOOR! AND IT WAS YOUR WHIMPERINGS!

Looking around, Namjoon tried to find another exit other than the door, in vain of course. Nya noticed Yoongi’s frown when he saw they kissing the day before, but would never imagine how against making out with her. By the way, why did Min even cared about it? Well, she didn’t understand, but Kim’s reaction surprised her: Glancing around desperately, fidgeting and anxious.

Did Yoongi carry a gun with him after all?

— Namjoon, you know I wouldn’t care about your romantic life, if you were capable of dicking down someone without falling in love and ruining our business! - Yoongi scolded profusely, words spitted like fire. The small man had flames inside his belly, always keen to burn whoever dared to cross his path and stumble. When their partnership became real and moneymaking, Namjoon’s creativity and intellect lost ground to Yoongi’s audacity, geniality and incredible honesty. Everyone in a meeting could witness how Min grows talking about money, market and tactics on getting attention, the same way Kim shrinks. 148 IQ points, tall and intimidating, but the business head looked like a human Hamtaro.

Indeed, Namjoon felt rickety closer to Yoongi. Who wouldn’t? Although their partnership equally shared in 50% of profit between them, who always controlled their accounts and hired people was Yoongi. Kim Namjoon was creative and smart, but Min Yoongi was ferocious, visionary, not afraid of facing bigger companies and calling attention to their work. Success depends on many more aspects than a well produced movie, knowing how to speak with business man, sell their product and spread their name. The universe knows Enterprise Inc., Mr. Spock always the mind, Captain Kirk their face and voice.

Namjoon wholeheartedly respected Yoongi, which was a mutual feeling.

It’s not like Yoongi was perfect and never made mistakes during their ten years career, running a filming company and producing polemical content.

Seven years ago, Min Yoongi dived from head to toe in a project about korean idols selling girls around the world, promoting prostitution and drug dealing. The movie was a mixture of documentary and fiction. Purposely or not, apparently the villain portrayed resembled a lot a certain manager from some big entertainment company and they were sued. Back in then, drowning in debts, Namjoon sat down and studied similar cases, learning with someone else’s past equivocation, he based their marketing on that judicial situation.

In the same way his sharp tongue and bold behavior made them big, Yoongi also caused a lot of trouble by saying something offensive. Once, Min Yoongi argued with a group of australian entrepreneurs, owners from a huge farm with mines around, a collaboration organised with Seokjin’s help was being discussed. Maybe joking about their political bias wasn’t the best choice of icebreaker, ‘cuz when they found themselves, Mr.Smith was red in anger and punching the table stopping himself from whacking Yoongi’s face.

However, Yoongi was right, Namjoon falls in love way too easily. Perhaps it was loneliness, or his massive levels of empathy. Fearing the loss of his company, Min Yoongi felt the grip and patience held along their trip fly away in the moment Jungkook and Hoseok appeared, but Kim and Nya were nowhere to be seen. Whimperings inside one stall, it was the last straw.

Nya and Namjoon got out the fitting room, red as beets. Yoongi had a hand covering his face, pissed off and trying to control his voice volume, not wanting to cause a stir.

— Why do you care? What happened of so serious? - Nya raised one eyebrow, still confused about Yoongi’s reaction about them making out. He would be sane to complain about public display of affection, but not the whole idea of someone kissing another human being.

— Namjoon is a workaholic, but also has a huge problem with loneliness. - Yoongi slid the hand down his face and stared at her, dead opaque eyes. - Every single time he gets attached to someone and breaks up, who deals with his tantrums and childish behavior, grumpy face and irascible humour, believe me, wouldn’t be you, it would be me, our hired actors, and of course our ring of friends. He gets unbearable.

— But we are not dating or in love, if anything ever happened, it wouldn’t leave Vegas. You are overreacting. - She was clearly embarrassed with the whole situation, when did she expressed any feeling of passion? Nya flirted with Namjoon and mentioned sex, but never said anything about dating, falling in love, or whatever.

— Yoongi, you are being irrational. I’m not in love, we are just young, horny and getting along. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. - Namjoon backed up Nya, pissing the hell off of Min, who took a long and deep breathe.

— Exactly! What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, but you know who else will be staying in Vegas? Us. We’re coming back in a month and if you dick her down now, you will probably want to get another dose after. I want you fully focused on working in ‘Fierce’, not splitting your thoughts between tortuous falling in love and doing your job properly. - The shorter man spat, again fire coming off his mouth.

— I’m focused! I’m having fun, but also analyzing every place we’ve been to!

— Oh, you are focused, right? Focused like a fucking cannon under a drunk man’s watch! - Min Yoongi snapped, if he ever worried about not causing a stir, then it disappeared like Namjoon’s rationality. - Do you know what I was doing whilst everyone tried on clothes? I was trying to resolve some of our location renting problems and checking how the filming for our other projects are going. - He got closer to Kim, poking one of his long fingers against the taller one chest. - By the way, did you make any contact with Enterprise every since we landed in Vegas? Did you check your phone? Did you worry about anything other than inserting your dick in somewhere or someone?

— No, but… - Namjoon suddenly felt small and shrinking more and more.

— That’s what I thought! Your whole focused ass is whipped and willing to lose everything we fought for, all for one night stand with some random one!

— Shut up! - Nya yelled, flustered and vexed, stepping closer to Yoongi. - Don’t you dare referring to me as if I’m not here. Don’t you ever treat me like someone random, trivial. I’m not a random someone, I’m the one guiding you around Las Vegas for free. It may not be something as big as filming a movie, but it’s also helpful. - She poked Yoongi’s chest, he gave one step back, their discussion drawing attention from people looking around, Hoseok and Jungkook showed up. - Your posh ass can be rich, or the owner from a company, but don’t you dare talking about me like a brainless person, someone incapable of fucking with someone without growing fond of that person! Your friend can be sappy and weak minded, but I am not. You don’t know me, Min Yoongi.

— We better leave before anything else is said, right Joon? - Jungkook asked, pulling Yoongi by one arm in the door’s direction.

— Yes, please, I don’t think I can keep on guiding you guys, I would say I’m sorry, but it is not true at all. - Nya seemed gloomy, but also frustrated. They were discussing sexism and pre-concepts in a movie, but Yoongi’s opinion about her seemed far from awaken. Maybe it was more about Namjoon and his past relationships, but why couldn’t Min consider her vision? A relationship necessarily has to have two sides, and both agreeing with their terms. Even if Kim fell in love, nothing would ever happen again if Nya did not fancy it.

Women do have voices and their standpoint should be taken seriously.

Maybe Yoongi wanted to protect both parts from heartbreak or unhealthy obsession, but what a problematic way of showing his worries. Why couldn’t he just ask for Nya’s opinion? It’s not fair or right.

Nya watched them leaving, Yoongi frowning and Namjoon in shock, both being dragged down by Hoseok and Jungkook. Everyone inside the thrift shop staring at them, dividing their glances between Nya and the group.

- x - x - x - x -

Whilst packing their bags again, Yoongi checked his pocket list of goals for the travel. He concluded that everything needed was basically sorted, places chosen and their owners actually liked them, which would make it easier to bargain better renting prices. Their casting situation and debt with Nya could be solved within days and a few phone calls, since while Namjoon was flirting, Jungkook and Hoseok were doing some bullshitery, Min gave his cellphone number to a no number of people.

Staring at Namjoon and his gloomy eyes felt heartbreaking, but Yoongi knew that it was the right thing to be done. Kim needed to keep his head on the game. They only had one chance, and oh boy, Min Yoongi would hold it with claws and teeth.

Nya was a bewildering creature and, after filming everything, Yoongi would totally invite her to their premiere, however in order to actually having a Premiere, they first had to rent places, cast people, transport their shit, direct, film, edit, and first of all, not declare bankruptcy. Namjoon should’ve know better, acting like a horny teenager would be the death of them.

The lilac-haired man wished things could be different, but Yoongi was correct and sane: Kim Namjoon would never know how to balance a relationship with work, at least not without slipping at some point and getting hurt.

Namjoon was aware of his workaholic condition. All of his relationships got to dramatic endings after spending hours in a row inside his office, studio or even at home, but with a notebook almost morphing into his lap. Every single one of his past girlfriends were very understanding, and accepted that working represented over 80% of his life, routine and thoughts, but being pushed into the background felt tiring. Namjoon hurted himself so many times with that and promised to change, which never happened.

Let’s face it, his fate had nothing to do with a successful love life.

Truth be told, but never convinced. Namjoon thanked mentally Yoongi, he saved Nya from a very frustrating life beside him.

Hoseok and Jungkook didn’t dare to say a word from hotel to airport. No one felt the need. Silence seemed adequate and anything else would only trigger into bickerings. There was no energy or disposition to raise voices and argue.

Silence and rain, those words defined their travel back to England.

- x - x - x - x -

— Zariah finished the filming of “Beast”. She sent the files to Jimin and Jungkook, but I think they will need my help, since Jeon is stuck with all those sequential cuts Yoongi made during “Je M’appelle Carinè”, and Park is simultaneously working on the sound effects for our first animated short-film “Poundcake”, and in… Oh Jimin is recording the soundtrack to “Fierce”? I’m proud of him. - Taylor, a short, chubby young lady, with short brown hair and sparkling eyes, was standing in front of Namjoon’s office table, staring at her iPad and checking every information, whilst he stared blankly outside the window. - Should I keep on working as your secretary? Or can I help Kook and Chim Chim on editing “Beast”?

— What? What did you just say? - Namjoon looked at her, blinking fast and slowly getting back to reality. - Sorry, Tay. I lost myself in my mind again. It’s been happening more often than I would like to assume.

— That’s alright. - She pulled a chair and sat in front of him, placing the iPad on her lap. - What’s bugging you, Joon?

Namjoon gazed again outside, eyes oscillating between shining and getting opaque again. Where should he even begin with? His mind was hopping from thought to thought, concern to concern, and somehow, even filled with preoccupations, Nya always danced between daydreams and awaken nightmares. Despite trying his best to forget and move on, the lady with a contagious smile, beautiful eyes and the smoothest skin ever seen found her way back to divagations.

Enterprise Inc. wasn’t placed in a huge building, actually, they placed had to place a billboard outside to indicate where the firm resided. An ancient building about to be demolished, that’s why Namjoon and Yoongi could bid a whole four floor building for such a bargain. With its structure, the duo fixed some details and reformed every flat, turning into different studios. Every deck had a specific department: first video editing and animation (recently inaugurated by Taehyung and Hoseok after finishing their online animating course), second reserved to audio (both recording and editing, Yoongi built his office there) and characterization accessories, third filming studios, last everything related to managing (marketing, advertisement, Human Resources, Management, and of course, Namjoon’s office). No one would ever imagine how proud Kim and Min were of their achievements, every award and nomination resulted in motivation. They were succeeding, from the bottom and going higher.

Imagining himself waking up and heading to somewhere else, other than the building made of red bricks and black doors, that thought scared the shit out of Namjoon. He would never cooperate or live happily after declaring bankrupt and having to shut down his business, at least not after conquering so many prizes, awards, incredible movies under his name. No, closing doors would never be an option.

— Taylor, I know everyone is aware of how ramshackle is our financial situation. Those projects, “Beast”, “Je M’Appelle Carinè”, “Poundcake” and “Fierce”, are our last string of hope. That’s why we are rushing to finish and release them. - Taylor nodded, in fact, everytime Namjoon and Yoongi argued behind closed doors, rumours around the office were spread. - Specially “Fierce”, we are investing every dime left in that. It’s probably our most expensive and laborious movie, but we count on it to keep us working for a few more months. Two weeks ago me, Yoongi, Hoseok and Jungkook went to Las Vegas and rented places to film, but something happened there.”

“See, our guide, Nya, is the most dazzling creature alive. Not a single soul ever made me feel so impressed in my whole life, yet I can’t get attached to her. Not before finishing the filmings for “Fierce”, it would make me lose focus and possibly fuck everything up. It’s not my intention, but I can’t get her out of my head. Whenever I stop and think, she is there, dancing through my worries and thoughts.”

— Joon, why can’t you talk to her? - Taylor pushed her glasses down the nose bridge and raised one eyebrow. - It seems like by avoiding Nya, you are focusing in nothing else but her. Maybe this time your romantic curse was casted differently. You are not dating her, perhaps the vicious cycle is broken. Also, being unable to think about anything else won’t help you directing.

— I don’t know… - Namjoon pouted and laid his head against the wooden table, leaning the forehead there.

— When the filming to “Fierce” will begin?

— In two weeks. - Namjoon mumbled without raising his head, but now facing his brown walls. - We casted some american actors and actresses, our luggage is being packed, Yoongi made deals with every place to film, rented a house for the crew and us.

— You have two weeks to decide whether you want to invest in something with Nya, or not. It’s up to you. - Taylor made a flourishing movement with one of her hands, whilst standing up and staring again at the iPad. - Now about the “Beast” video editing...

— Go help Jimin and Jungkook. - Namjoon dismissed her and got back to his thoughts.

- x - x - x - x -

— Namjoon, you know I hate to accept when I’m wrong, huh? - Yoongi had an U shaped pillow around his neck, resting peacefully on a comfortable seat, whilst Kim typed on the notebook, adding some reminders on the script to himself. - But I think you should call Nya and ask her out.

— What? Why? - Namjoon turned his head and stared at Yoongi's unfazed face.

— You never had to take notes on scripts in order to work right. You are way a fucking genius, with 148 IQ points, had written masterpieces and composed glorious songs. - Min said without looking at his friend, but placing a hand on his knee. - In the past month you barely talked during reunions, you've been unfocused and divagating, also I spoke to Emerson, and she mentioned a certain talk you had with Taylor. Man, you need Nya and it's insane. You spent less than 24 hours by her side and now living without talking to her seems like a punishment. I don't understand how and why, but if contacting her during our permanence in Vegas will cheer you up, then I'm 100% supporting you. We need our leader, our main director.

Namjoon got back to typing without delivering a single sentence, Min’s hand still on his knee. Suddenly the space between their seats felt tinier, they were way too close and He needed to absorb Yoongi’s new position on Nya’s awe. Indeed, having his approval on looking for her was amazing, but how? During their trip to Las Vegas Min Yoongi said harsh things, leaving right after. Upon weeks of silence, even having Nya’s phone number saved, Namjoon never made effort to apologize, keep in touch or whatever. He respected Yoongi’s opinion, but his spitted phrases and dark tone made both parts highly uncomfortable.

He wanted and decided that looking for Nya was part of his plans whilst filming in Las Vegas, but embarrassment spoke louder and clearer. Namjoon wanted, but had no balls to accomplish it. At least not after remaining mute whilst Yoongi spat mean words at her, he could’ve defended their situation, stand up and put Min on his place. Well, what happened was far from ideal.

All Namjoon could think about, even before hearing Yoongi’s concerned and caring words about his mental state, was Nya, and what were the chances of her accepting to go on a date with him. Namjoon despised the idea of Nya evicting him.

Unlike Yoongi thought, Namjoon wasn’t in love before. It took him an array of nights stalking Nya’s Facebook page, checking her Instagram and reading how passionate her friends seemed to feel. Now, he felt obsessed and slightly uncomfortable with the idea of being dumped.

Nonetheless, Namjoon decided to pull himself together, grow a pair of balls and try. ‘No’ is a possibility, risking won’t harm.

Trying to gather some courage, the lilac haired man opened a new Word file and named “Captain’s Log”, getting in full Star Trek mode, he was Captain Kirk afterall.

“Captain’s log. Stardate -303753.640. We are arriving in the dusty and hot atmosphere of Las Vegas, a city located in the middle of Nevada, a state from United States of America, North America, one of the seven continents from planet Earth. My Vulcan friend, Mr.Yoongi, possessor of a great logical intellect is encouraging me to look for a human partner in our new location, specifically someone already acknowledged by Enterprise as homo sapien sapien, formed by carbon and XX chromosomes, turning it into a fascinating woman named Nya by her genitors. After our last expedition through Las Vegas, the relationship development between Enterprise’s Captain, yours truly, and terrestrial local resident Nya were harmed by Mr.Yoongi’s behavior towards her. Nevertheless, I’m willing to change our perspectives and get another chance.”

- x - x - x - x -

Saturday. A boring afternoon ghosting over Nya’s body, sitting on her couch along with Alexa. They were watching something about wildlife in Taiwan forests on National Geographics, a bowl with caramel popcorn between them and cups of mint tea. The curly-haired woman stared around her living room, noticing how the yellowish painting was peeling and slowly showing stripes of the white paint under it. Basically, her walls looked like an albino zebra. The purple sofa comfortable and everything else seemed pretty fitting, not needing to be replaced or moved. Oh, she was proud about her good taste in decoration.

Boredom hit Alexa like a truck and a deep grunt left her throat, almost scratching its way out. She grabbed the remote control and began zapping through channels, looking for something more interesting than animals mating or bullying each other.

— We should go out. You look like a mushy potato in that set of sweats. Is it yellow because you’ve been copiously using that for the past four weekends, or is it the original colour? - Alexa snorted, trying to combat boredom with jokes. - Honestly Nya, what the fuck happened? You explained something about Korean entrepreneurs, but as far as I know you’re not eager in investing on stock market, so I don’t know why their business would affect you. Did you get involved with one of them?

— No shit, Sherlock. - Nya mumbled and took a sip from her tea, trying to gather some words without sounding grumpy. - I have nothing to do with their business, but see, they hired me to guide them through Las Vegas. I’ve done that once before for one of their friends, the Seokjin guy I told you. Remember?

— Seokjin? The cocky and rich film producer? I remember him, he was funny and immensely confident, literally, I’ve never seen someone so sure about his looks. - Alexa kept her glance on the television. - Big dick energy at its finest.

— Yeah, him. - Nya avoided talking about Namjoon and cia, but now, completely alone with her best friend, it seemed like a good moment to vent. - One of the film producers I accepted to guide, he was funny, interesting, smart and a very good kisser, although, apparently someone deeply confusing. Like, I felt interest on him, but never said shit about being in love, unlikely what Yoongi understood and took as the gospel truth, his friend could cherish me with a thousand roses, but I would never date him and then break up, even because it takes more than 24 hours wandering around sin city and a good fuck for me to enamor someone.

“I don’t know how are the girls they know and usually go out with, but I’m not innocent. We don’t live in a book from Jane Austen. They claim to be so woke and liberal, discussing pre-concepts, sexism and homophobia on their scripts, but behaving and thinking like Mr.Darcy. Did they ever consider a scenario where women have voices and opinions? A scenario where I can easily say no and continue my life? See, I’m not hurt because I’m fancying Namjoon, but because from the moment they introduced themselves and their ideas, they seemed like progressivists, looking for equality, open-minded guys, willing to fight our biased society with their movies. However, Yoongi insinuating that Namjoon and I would ever date or engage in a long-lasting romantic relationship, without even considering my perception on it all, the possibility of the woman only looking for a good fuck. He literally throw a tantrum in a thrift shop about it, calling me some random one. The delusion hurt me.”

— Uh girl, I’m sorry about it. That Yoongi guy really assumed some fucked up things about you. - Alexa turned to stare at her friend, who didn’t spare a look from the television, even though she wasn’t actually watching it, only avoiding eye contact. - But you went through several deceptions along life, why is that different? What happened lately that you remain thinking about them? Or him?

Nya got tired of staring at nothing and met Alexa’s brown eyes, thick and beautiful eyebrows. She took her cell phone and found the long text Namjoon sent a few hours before, throwing it to the friend, keen to understand everything surrounding her grumpy aspect.

“Kim Namjoon [03/31/2019, 8h34min]: Hey Nya.

Sorry taking so long to contact you. I couldn’t find words apologizing my behavior four weeks ago. Unfortunately, there is nothing I can say now. I could’ve defended you, Yoongi acted like a jerk and said some hurtful things, which I don’t agree 100% with. I wasn’t in love back in then, but I understand his side from this story. Yoongi is worried about our finances, which I was the responsible for fucking up. Let me explain it all, expose the situation we unintentionally inserted you in.

A few months ago I broke up with an incredible woman who taught me a lot, but also couldn’t bear my working schedule and how I always set her aside. The career I built along with Yoongi always goes first, it’s my main priority, and I never learned how to balance ‘working Namjoon’ with ‘dating Namjoon’. The result of that break up was a moody me, who brought hell to surface and made two of our casted actors quit, they couldn’t deal with my humour (beside one who quit after receiving a better role somewhere else). It really cost us way too much, since they received for working day and we couldn’t ask their payment back. Also, when the infamous movie was released, the numbers were low and barely covered our bills and paychecks, media and critics criticized it harshly.

However, what happened is a vicious cycle which I’m stuck in. It’s one of the certainties from life: death, the ones most adaptable to change will survive and that I’m fucking up a relationship and then ruining a movie. Yoongi always found a way to contort it and put us back, saving our finances, but this time the loss was gigantic. Our company is solely relying on the success of ‘Fierce’, and a few other projects we will be releasing.

I’m not trying to find excuses for everything Yoongi spat to your face, he was rude and unnecessarily loud, but I’m begging you to consider his side as well. We are not up to losing our company, it’s our deepest fear. Min Yoongi and his stone cold heart is trying his hardest to get our butt off bankruptcy. I guess inside his head, he is willing to drag me away from anything considered as a distraction.

Now, enough of Yoongi and our financial trouble. Let's talk about feelings.

Yeah, I'm a lonely man and tend to get attached pretty easily. However, I wasn't in love with you. Nya, you seemed like someone really interesting and attractive, I'd rather chew my feet off than leave Las Vegas without kissing you. You are smart, independent, proactive, empathetic and friendly. Within hours being guided by you through Vegas, we saw how passionate you are about people you grew surrounded by, how you care deeply about them all and are willing to give up on money in order to help them.

By the way, our deal is still up and we casted your friends (Carol even gained a solo scene where she dances and Sasha got lines). Hopefully they already told you, but if they didn't and you are suspicious of my word, get in touch with everyone you introduced to us.

Continuing…

I wasn't in love with your back in then, but after two weeks thinking about it all and checking your social media (sorry about it :S), I grew fond of you. Everyone seems to love you so much and your heart is so big, couldn't help and now I, Kim Namjoon, am fancying you as well.

I'm not hoping to gain your mercy, but am willing to try and get your sympathy back. Would you go out with me sometime? Not in a romantic way, if you don't feel comfortable.

Again, I'm sorry about how it all began and hope we can fix it.

I'll be staying in Vegas for a while.

Thank you. Bye :) “

— First of all. Did he deadass structured the text like an e-mail? - Alexa looked up from the cellphone in time to see Nya grinning. - You are considering the idea of accepting his invitation? Girl, I ain't gonna tell you what to do, but that Namjoon doesn't seen to be a jerk, he could've just gave up, but he insisted and apologized. Did he actually casted everyone you asked to?

— Yes. Two weeks ago I received a text from Carol and Sasha, they thanked me and all. Tio Diego is also renting his bar for their movie. They also chose Paris as the main filming place, casting Honey too. - Nya felt divided, hoping on Alexa's opinion to define what should be done. - I'm still a bit hurt for what happened, but they proved their integrity by casting and renting everything and everyone I suggested. Namjoon apologized, gave me Yoongi's point of view and invited me to a date, giving me the option of saying no or defining if it's romantic or not.

— Nya, I don't see a plausible reason why you would say no. - Alexa’s hand snaked between them and landed on the other woman thigh. - You are only trying to find excuses because you are stubborn. If you want to, then go, get dicked down and you don't necessarily have to head back to him ever again. Even though he assuredly grew fond of you, it doesn't mean you obligatory have to engage in an actual relationship.

Nya huffed and slapped Alexa’s hand off her thigh. She hated when the girl with wavy black hair was right, and unfortunately Alexa seemed to never be wrong.

- x - x - x - x -

The night sky was clear and the air cool, wind making leaves from trees huff against each other and a chill run through everyone's spine. However, Namjoon felt sweat bidding down his forehead, anxiously shifting from one foot to another and resisting the urge to bite his nails.

The lilac-haired man was standing alone in front of Devito’s, same dining Nya took them the first night. His white t-shirt covered by a thin plaid shirt, jeans and white Converse, outfit plained specifically to seen laidback, since Nya chose the place and said it wasn't a fancy date. She was a ten minutes late and Kim had this crazy thought culminating in his mind, where she probably gave up and would call at any moment to dump him.

With 15 minutes of delay, Nya showed up dressed casually with a black Iron Maiden t-shirt, brown corduroy coat, skinny jeans and Vans. Her curly hair free and adorning the whole picture, no makeup, except for a cherry coloured lipstick. Flawless, Namjoon felt like his legs were made out of jelly and would collapse. His guts contracted in the same moment butterflies attacked his stomach. His mind hazing and suddenly his vocabulary vanished, being resumed by the extensive plethora of words pronounced by someone 2 years old, basically “bluh”.

The first half hour from their date felt weird. No one knew what to say, so small talk almost defeated them, but Namjoon decided to insist. Between eating burgers for dinner and dying out of embarrassment from going out in such situation, Kim decided to thank Nya.

His grateful words somehow touched Nya's heart. He sounded so sincere and whipped by her presence, that keeping the attitude of someone offended seemed pointless. Alexa was right, Namjoon liked Nya.

Goddamnit, Alexa.

Like a chain of gratitude, Nya thanked Namjoon for remaining faithful to his promise of casting her friends. He blushed and sipped on his fizzy cherry drink, grinning slightly, dimples marking their presence and reminding the woman why she thought Kim Namjoon was such a heartthrob beforehand.

Those dimples. Goddamnit, dimples. How can you be mad at someone desperately fluff with such a cute face? Nya wanted to stay loyal to her belief and hard feelings, but Namjoon's polite behavior, lovely face and insistence made it specially complicate.

Goddamnit, Namjoon.

Their body language clearly showed how the unsolved business led to a huge amount of sexual tension, Nya could bear it masterly though. Talking about everything and nothing at all, that's how Namjoon decided to speak his mind. What's the point of sitting and awkwardly pretend there is not an elephant in the room? Well, let's excuse it and set the pachyderm free then.

— Nya, I don't know if you are ever going to forgive me for not standing up for you, or whatever… - Namjoon's hand slipped swiftly closer to Nya's, touching her pinky but not holding it, avoiding more of an intimate contact.

— It's not that you didn't stood up or defended me, see there is so much more. Did you guys ever consider the idea that, I don't know, I could easily not want something serious with you? - She allowed his pinky to snake from her side and lightly take a hold of it. - I'm not mainly mad at you, disappointed with both Yoongi and you, though. For guys claiming to be so open-minded, then why is it so hard to assume I don't want a relationship? That I'm glad having something unofficial and leaving? Fuck, you make it so hard to believe you are an hypocrite.

— I'm not an hypocrite. I do believe in women's sexual freedom and ability to choose partners without necessity of commitment. I'm shitty at not getting attached, it doesn't mean that everyone else is also suckers for love. - His gaze was no longer on her eyes, but staring down to his own lap. - Indeed, we discussed my side, claiming I’d fall for you and ruin our project, but never considered your opinion, the possibility of you wanting nothing related to me. We behaved in such a sexist way, I’m profoundly sorry.

Their order arrived, someone almost spinning on her calves. Burgers and fries, so much cheese melting down the seeded bread. What a vision. If the conversation wasn’t in such an uncomfortable place, Namjoon would probably declare his passion for the juicy and greasy food in front of them.

The chit-chatting kept its slow pace. If National Geographics decided to make a parallel between their behavior and animals socializing, then they were trying to mingle, like Taiwan birds, Nya and Namjoon were singing in order to attract each other, hoping to link and connect. They got along once, why was it so hard to do it again? What wasn’t being said? Who was holding the cat inside the bag?

— I think I’m fancying you. - Namjoon finally took the cat out of the bag, or it could be a mice, ‘cause within seconds the elephant sitting on their conversation got up and left. Gone late, pachyderm.

— What? - Nya lifted an eyebrow. - I don’t know why I’m surprised, you said it in the message. Sorry, keep talking.

— When I closed all deals and rented everything we needed for the filming here in Vegas, my friends and my crew was all like ‘Heck yes, Vegas! Strippers, gambling, money, casinos, yaay!’, and even trying my best, the hardest, to focus on working and directing a masterpiece this script deserves to originate, all I could think about was you. - Namjoon decided it would be appropriate to look at Nya, she seemed unfazed, which made him nervous. - Travelling hours in a flying sardine can to see Nya! No one, except for the boys and Jin knew who you are, and kept on questioning me why so much anxiety and excitement over seeing you. And not even I understood. Working and wondering about what you could be doing really messed with my head. Nya, you messed with my head!

— Ok, Namjoon, it’s a lot of information. - She didn’t spare a look, he felt intimidated, but Nya’s behavior never showed any insecurity. - I don’t fancy you, but it doesn’t mean I cannot grow fond of you at any moment. However, in order to see it happening, you’ve got to insist. If you really want to be with me, then you’ll need to stick along, we’ve got to go out more, in different places. We can totally link up and have great sex today, but it won’t guarantee another row. Got it?

Well, Namjoon felt relieved. Nya was far from being mad at him. Oh, he remained willing to go out, as long as she was there.

In the end, if Nya and Namjoon’s story was something elaborated by Jane Austen, then it would be Sense & Sensibility. Nya and her sense changed how Namjoon dealt with his sensibility, breaking a vicious cycle, where engaging in a romantic relationship without previous thinking ruined all logical thoughts and mature behavior.

The end.

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artificialskyway-archives · 6 years

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december warmth

members: Jae (Day6) x Reader genre: fluff, maybe, hopefully summary: you and Jae take a break from college to find yourselves on a road trip. this is just a simply, soft story. hopefully you find it sweet and endearing. critiques + thoughts are always welcomed. count: 2,283

The cool December air nips at your nose, a dark red beanie hugs your head in warmth as you hide the rest of your face behind the over-sized scarf wrapped around you. The winter always leaves you shivering in its bitter and frozen air, but despite that, you had the greatest love and admiration for this season.

A light blanket of snow sticks to the ground in front of you, painting your college campus a beautifully soft winter wonderland. Standing outside your college’s fine arts building, you take in the beauty of the snow-covered courtyard, getting lost in the the scenery.

“Y/N!” A voice calls out, breaking you away from your admiration.

You see your boyfriend standing across the courtyard, calling out to you, with a smile spread across his face. You wave out to him, face still hiding behind your scarf as you watch him make carefully reckless strides in the snow.

His right hand holds his camera while he films his footsteps, the snowy courtyard, then panning the lens over to you, zooming in and focusing on you.

You giggle to yourself as you watch your boyfriend, Jae-hyung, make his way towards you. He likes to do the utmost at times. While some may figure it extra and unnecessary, you give credit to his moxy. As he comes closer, you notice the smile on his face widening.

“You know that’s what these shoveled sidewalks are here for, right?” You tease him as he comes to stand before you, shivering and making some joke about his battle with the snow.

He leans down to kiss your frozen nose while you wrap your arms around his waist, pulling him in close to you for a moment.

Jae was your outspoken, kind-hearted boyfriend of two years. He was an aspiring film major, always having a camera in his hands, filming and photographing many places and people.

Your favorite part about him, thought, was his hugs.

His hugs always engulfed you into a sea of warmth, eliciting a soft side about him that he rarely lets show.

Still in his warm embrace you hear him tell you something.

“Let’s drive.” He whispers to you under the whistles of the harsh wind.

Excitement fills your bones, and you eagerly jump up and down in his embrace.

Spontaneous road trips were not uncommon in your day to day lives together. Jae often loved to drive around and find new places to film or photograph. He loved to take you along with him.

It has been a while since both your last adventure together that your excitement fills you to the brim. And as the final week of classes come to an end and the gruesome stress of finals nears, now is a perfect time as any for a road trip with Jae.

You both pack up Jae’s car with a bag of clothes, snacks, and essentials. In the passenger side, you smile ear to ear at your boyfriend as he starts up the car, kissing your cheek before driving off.

The radio plays a series of top 40 songs to which you and Jae sing along to, all completely off key. It’s your typical road trip scene, windows down, loud singing, and the cold, winter air soaring through your hair.

It’s perfect.

The scenery is blanketed in white snow, and the crisp air tingles your nose, it’s borderline unbearable but you don’t want it to end.

Two hours and many road signs later, you and Jae are on a highway, outside of the city limits. The warmth from the car heater keeps you content as you admire your boyfriend and his focus on the road.

As you watch him from the passenger side, your mind travels back to the first time you ever met Jae.

You were in the student lounge area of the fine arts building, waiting for your art history class to start. Being the only one in the lounge you took pleasure in its peacefulness.

As you sat on one of the couches, with your earbuds in, you let the notes from your previous art history lecture cram inside your head as much as possible. This is what happens when you put things off for the last minute.

It was all peaceful, until you looked up to notice a boy focusing his camera on you. His eyes, decorated with his gold, circle glasses and light brown fringe, focused on your image through his lens. He had a soft smile on his face as his eyes flickered with admiration.

Quickly, you returned your focus to your notes, maybe if i ignore him, he’ll get the hint, you thought. Unfortunately, he apparently didn’t take hints very well.

You focused your gaze, looking past his camera and straight at him. “Hey. Can I help you with something?” You asked, slightly annoyed.

“Yeah. I’m trying to focus on you but your constant shifting is just not doing the shot justice. So if you don’t mind, just, stay still, yeah?” He says through a cheeky smirk.

You rolled your eyes, finding no harm in playing along, “how’s this?” You ask, as you place your notes in front of your face and begin to slowly slouch deep into the couch, eventually disappearing from his shot.

“Ha- Ha,” he responds. “Very original, you know,” he says in a monotonous tone, dropping his camera to look at you.

“As original as trying to sneakily film some girl without her knowing. Which, by the way, you failed at the ‘sneaky’ part.”

“Hm, or maybe I just wanted you to finally notice me. And seeing as we are both here it was a perfect time.” He bluntly responds.

“Do we have a class together, or something?” You asked, feeling bad for probably ignoring him and not even noticing him beforehand in one of your classes.

“No class. I’ve just seen you around campus a few times but never knew your name. I had never seen someone as captivating as you around here.”

You blush at the compliment, and from there you two go on to get to know one another. Sarcasm, wit, jokes, and blushing cheeks were all a part of this getting to know you fest between you and Jae. Something had just clicked between you two and you loved how genuine and passionate Jae is about life. He made you feel invincible, and comfortable.

You snap out of your memory and back to the present, in Jae’s car when he steers the car into a last minute turn down a single road off the highway.

“How do you feel about christmas villages, Y/N?” Jae asks.

“Christmas villages?” You ask, turning your head towards the window as Jae drives through the beginnings of a small town.

The two of you end up finding yourself in a small town, decorated in snow, Christmas lights, Christmas trees and pretty much all things Christmas.

The town was coated in colorful decorations, flowing to Christmas music played throughout the streets and filled with the kindest of people. You and Jae were in awe, feeling like you two just stepped into a Christmas movie.

The two of you spent the evening exploring the town, meeting new people, and Jae managed to fulfill his task with a Christmas plethora of footage and photographs.

It was an actual wonderland for the two of you and you couldn’t be happier.

It’s 11pm when you and Jae finally find a sweet little hotel in town to stay the night.

Jae’s excited to look at the shots he’s taken of the day as he goes through his camera. You come up next to him on the bed, snuggling tightly, wrapping the two of you in your blanket, resting your right arm around his shoulder.

“These look so beautiful, babe.” You tell him, nuzzling your head in his neck.

“You want to see my favorite shot of today?”

“Duh!” You exclaim.

Jae pulls up the photo on the camera, and it is a shot of you looking off into the distance at something out of frame. Your eyes are beaming, paired with the softest smile. Jae captured the lighting so perfectly as it lays naturally on your face, illuminating your features.

“You just look so breathtaking,” he tells you, “just like the first day I saw you and everyday since then.” Your eyes fall on Jae as he is admiring the photo of you.

You feel your slow heart beats, pumping ecstasy in your veins. Jae looks so taken aback by you, lost in your beauty and you just can’t believe a boy like him looks at you like you’re a painting that belongs in The Louvre.

But that’s exactly how Jae feels.

According to him, you are a masterpiece, a magnificent work of art and if he could, he would plaster numerous photographs of you in The Louvre and every museum for that matter.

Jae is snapped out of it when he feels your lips on his neck. He leans his head on yours, “Y/N,” he whispers, voice shuttering with chills.

You wrap your hand around his face as you place your lips on his, giving him a kiss so sensual it makes both your heads spin in shared ecstasy.

Jae sets the camera to the side and moves to place you on your back as he hovers over you, lips still attached to yours.

The warmth of your bodies heat up the room, moans and gasps fill the room as the two of you shed each other of your clothes, tossing them to clothed the floor. You and Jae leave each other in heated bliss as your bodies mesh together, flowing and moving to the beat of your hearts.

His hands roam your body, his fingers feel every twitch and pleasure from you as you return the feeling to him. His lips painted parts of your skin in hues of blue and purple. Jae’s hair intertwined with your fingers, as his fingers lost themselves in your hair.

The night was as sensual as it was blissful.

The next morning, you awoke to the sound of kids’ cheerful screams and laughs outside your hotel window.

The bliss of last night still not wearing off just yet. Looking over to the side you look at your sweet boyfriend sleeping naturally. This was the most captivating person in your life.

Feeling like it was his turn to see his beauty you head over to grab Jae’s camera, turning it on and pressing record.

Camera rolling, you look at your boyfriend through the lens. Vulnerable in all his beauty, you let scan his soft body, half-covered and dimly lit by the winter sun. He looks peaceful, his body swaying with rhythms of his breath.

Jae is never in the shots, always behind the camera, but you think he is worth the same attention he gives in his pieces. “Y/N?” you hear his groggy voice call out to you.

“Hmm?”

“I really love you.” He says with soft eyes as they flutter open.

You let the camera continue to roll as Jae turns to you. Your focus has left the camera and is now on your boyfriend as your stomach spins in sweet bliss at his words.

He really makes you feel invincible.

“Okay. Yeah, see now you’re not even focusing this thing right anymore, babe.” He chuckles, breaking the silence as he gets up from bed, taking the camera from your hands.

He kisses your forehead and you wrap your arms around his waist, pulling him in tighter.

The morning continues on, as you and Jae pack up his car, preparing to leave the small town and venture back home.

You take Jae’s camera once again to snap a photo of the two of you. He wraps his arms around you, burying his face in your hair, kissing your head after you snap the shot.

You both head to his car after Jae has his final shots of the little town. Racing back to the car to beat the dreadful wind, you two stumble in with laughs and random dialogue about the town.

Once settled, Jae starts the car and you two are off. You let the minutes pass while the radio fills the comforting silence between you two.

Moments of the trip replay in your head, and images of Jae begin fill your mind. You always noticed the little things he did, smiling at strangers, picking up random trash off the ground, the way his eyes lit up at any sort of inspiration.

Jae was filled with such a warm heart that could make strangers feel like long time friends, and make a whole room of silent individuals burst into fits of genuine laughter. Then your mind remembers last night and the way he makes you feel like you are the most perfect person for him.

“Hey, Jae,” you call to him. He only hums in response as his focus is on his driving. You pick up his hand that is intertwined with yours, placing a soft kiss on his, “I really love you, too.”

His eyes stayed focused on the road, but all of his concentration is on you and how much happiness you give him. He smiles widely, letting out a soft chuckle before he begins to sing off key with the radio, raising the volume.

You smile, rolling down your window and turning your head towards the open, cool December air.

It’s bitterly cold, but still you let the frosty wind kiss your nose. As unbearable as it may be, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Besides, nothing is better than the warmth that Jae gives you.

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