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bathic · 13 days ago

Text

3. Sunday Newspaper Spectacle: Fin.

Word Count: 9k.

Chapter Warnings: Sexual Content, Destruction of government property and… goat theft?

Diary Entry: 005-1

I don’t mind him so much. Although sometimes it feels like I’m the only one carrying our companionship. Is it wrong to wish he’d put in more effort? Perhaps reciprocate my hugs without screaming bloody murder in my ears and thrashing around erratically like a wet cat after a bath. Kang Yeosang, why must you wound me? I beg of you, accept my affections kindly or I might just chew on Seonghwa’s hair and you know how much he hates having it messed with after taking an hour to fuss it over. Hair does not taste good. Seonghwa’s hair does not taste good. Smells good, not taste good. There’s a difference.

San.

~~~~~~~~

Wooyoung could hardly get ahold of himself. His foot mindlessly tapped, arms uncrossed then recrossed only to uncross again, another sigh for the nth time and the venture of his tongue from one corner of his bottom lip to the other. Yes, he was restless. Practically vibrating in his platform sneakers. He doesn’t really recall the last time he was this excited (that’s a lie, he was excited last night when Faust took him to bed— her bed) especially over something as petty as what he had brewing in his mind’s caldron.

It was grand, it was absolutely crazy, diabolical even. You could even say it was… explosive. Wooyoung turned to fluff his hair in the mirror by the grand entrance, ignoring the probing eyes of Yeosang standing just an arms length behind him.

“I know you are up to something, Wooyoung. I just can’t exactly pinpoint what it is.”

“Oh, I definitely am.” Wooyoung puckers his lips, a fresh coating of chapstick making the skin pinker and slightly glossed. It was his favorite, a gift from Hongjoong when he wasn’t suffering from the perpetual curse of having a ‘rod up his ass’.

“Will you tell me?”

“I haven’t decided yet. Might be better to solo this one, buddy.”

Yeosang rolls his eyes at the nickname, “You always solo your outlandish endeavors, and if anyone happens to be there on the sidelines with you that’s because they were either bribed or forced against their will or threatened with one of your stinky socks.”

Wooyoung looks at the other man through the mirrors reflection with a less than humored expression. “One, my socks do not smell that bad. Two, anyone who is easily persuaded by me clearly has some personal problems to work out within themselves. You know the saying, ‘it’s you not me’.”

“That is so far from correct that I want to be surprised but since it’s coming from you, I’m just mildly disappointed.”

“Don’t care.”

The space shared between them eclipses into silence. Yeosang hates knowing that his fellow maid is scheming up something foul while they are going into town for the day. He also hates that he doesn’t know exactly what his little conniving brain is planning. It’s like watching doom draw over the horizon and yet not caring enough to warn anyone, instead just standing there idly as it approaches. Yeosang could technically still tell everyone else, especially their wife that Wooyoung was going to do something that’ll most likely cause bigger problems between the house of mastodon and the county but what if they don’t believe him? What evidence does he really have to make an accusation like that? Sure, Wooyoung confirmed it himself but he never implicitly admitted what he was going to do. And the man hardly found it worth snitching if the ‘up to something’ was just Wooyoung lighting dog crap on fire on the doorsteps of townspeople.

“If I said please will you reconsider whatever it is you are planning on doing?” Yeosang said this with a bit of hope of roping his companion into place, to avoid the trouble the other is keen on stirring up.

Wooyoung turns, smacks his lips together and points a singular finger towards the ceiling. “Nope.”

~~~~~~~~

Hongjoong’s frown is definitely on the cobblestone drive once he sees who is behind the wheel of the Windsor. “Nuh-uh— No— get out.”

Seonghwa pouts, “Come on! Just this once, please? It’s a special occasion, Joong.”

“Need I remind you that you voted against this special occasion. Now, get out.” Hongjoong’s arms cross over his chest as the driver side door flies open and a sulking Seonghwa steps out with the keys in hand. A black fuzzy rabbit hangs from the ring, sporting a pair of sunglasses and several gold embellishments on its two long ears.

“Keys.”

“I can drive, you know. Very well, actually.”

“No you can’t. Keys.” Hongjoong’s fingers stretch flat and then curl, awaiting the familiar weight of the keys in the center of his palm.

Seonghwa huffs, dropping the object where it clinks and chimes within the other man’s hand.

“I would be an amazing driver if you’d let me learn instead of waxing doom and gloom about the incoming end of your short-lived life every time you sat in the passenger seat.”

Hongjoong chooses to pat his shoulder instead of replying. “Jongho.”

The youngest perks up at his name, his spot beside Mingi taken by Seonghwa once he steps a forward. The group of nine stood out on the drive awaiting their designated ride to make an appearance. The black Chrysler Windsor freshly washed and waxed beaming like the freshest cut onyx in a jeweler's shop. Faust had chosen the car at an auction, a bit scuffed up at the time but a little bit of TLC in the form of San, Yunho and Jongho made the darling car shine like new.

The keys in Hongjoong’s hand are quickly passed over to Jongho without another word. It was no secret that the younger could drive the best out of everyone— second being Yunho and tied at third, Hongjoong and San. Wooyoung could also drive sufficiently enough if he didn’t feel the need to crank the radio up to the ten’s and act like he was trying to win first place at a driving derby every time he was allowed behind the wheel.

“I call shotgun!” Wooyoung practically leaps towards the passenger side door, hand grappling at the handle until someone plucks him away by the lace collar on his uniform.

Hongjoong looks at the younger man disapprovingly, “Shotgun is for the missus. The second row backseats is the only place you will be calling.”

Faust waves a flippant hand, long nails the color of tar catching the sunlight the same way the Windsor does. “Nonsense, darling. I have no qualms on seating arrangements.”

But despite her reassurance that no matter her place in the front or back, Hongjoong wouldn’t let Wooyoung take the passenger seat. No, that means the brat would get his way and if the older had anything to say about it (and he does— always), Wooyoung would be stuffed into the trunk instead.

San swoops in to swiftly open the door for Faust, smiling like the cat that ate the canary when she gently places a chaste peck on his cheek followed by an adoring pat to his shoulder before dipping down (mindful of her horns) and settling next to Jongho in the drivers side. The door closes and the two back ones open in perfect synchronization. Hongjoong lets go of Wooyoung’s collar to shove him in, grumbling under his breath a lengthy monologue lost on all ears except his own. Mingi follows close behind with Yunho in tow. Seonghwa, Yeosang and San round the Windsor to the other side where they slip in one by one until the car is packed like a tin of finely dressed sardines. Honestly speaking, it was more akin to a clown car on the day of a funeral.

“Well, my darlings, are we all set and ready for a glorious day on the town? Oh— hold those pretty little thoughts, I almost forgot.” Faust runs a hand from one horn to the next and the growths disappear in a twinkle of dark glitter. Next is her blood red skin, human pigmentation overtaking her natural color until she looked like nothing more than an average woman somewhere between her late twenties to early thirties. Beneath her wide-leg trousers, the spade-tipped tail she wags and flicks about curls into itself until nothing is there but a flat surface at the base of her tailbone.

Jongho is swift to pull a scarf from one of the hidden pockets in his uniform’s skirt, handing it to her with a shy smile. The demon plucks it from his fingers with an approving nod, tying it around her head.

“I think we should stay out no later than—“

“Booooring. Don’t stamp a curfew on our outing, Hwa.” Wooyoung says from the second row backseat, arms crossed over his chest and posture slumped against the right side window.

Seonghwa turns to look over his shoulder with a displeased expression, eyes narrowing at the interruptive source.

“I am not soliciting a curfew,” He faces forward again with a sigh, “Just suggesting that we set a time to leave just in case the locals get a little antsy by our lingering. Nothing more than a precaution.”

“I agree—“

“You always agree, San.” Yunho teased, poking a long finger into the dimple on San’s cheek provided by his forced smile. It was true though, no matter what the eldest said Sannie would always be the first to backpack off of his suggestions without hesitation.

Faust hums from the front seat, “I think that’s fair. As much as I like seeing the townspeople squirm, nothing humane comes from a bunch of idiots with twitchy fingers.”

“It’s settled then. I suggest we pack up our rendezvous at three o’clock sharp.” Seonghwa gave a nod of finality, basking in his proffered advice’s win. Because if his wife agrees then it is final.

~~~~~~~~

Wooyoung had the calculations added up to the very T. Leaving the manor half past ten and arriving just five minutes before eleven meant he had about five hours to execute his plan and get out without the county noticing. Of course that last bit was wishful thinking. The county will have them sniffed out within seconds. And while that thought should worry him, he knew his beloved wife would have the entire town shredded into chum for the fish at the bottom of the sea cliffs before they even dared to lay a finger on any of them.

Jongho parked near the road in the grassy field just outside of the innocuous welcome sign into town. It’s canary yellow and coral and lilac coloring clashing against the black stylized writing, an established year of 1836 leaving behind trails of green algae near the bottom. It was both befitting of a seaside sleepy town and absolutely ugly. Faust’s nose wrinkles a bit at the sight of it.

“You would think a nautical palette would be better suited for a town neighboring the ocean. These pastels are horrid and frankly, an eyesore.” The demon snaps her fingers and a pair of large framed sunglasses appear on the bridge of her nose. “Much better.”

“You shouldn’t do such things when so close to the town, my love.” Seonghwa looked from side to side once he stepped out of the Windsor, his long black hair lightly shifting with the ocean’s breeze. “Anyone could be watching.”

“Rest your worries, darling. You know I wouldn’t be so frivolous in my actions.”

Wooyoung is quick to shove past Mingi who stood blocking the way to the right-side exit, the taller yelping at the sudden force. Hongjoong and Yunho tailing after him while San and Yeosang slips out from the same side Seonghwa did. Jongho exits last after he’s turned the motor off, pocketing the keys into his skirt.

“Well… where to first?” Yunho looks around as far as he can, the equally pastel buildings lined in two neat rows with bright white roofs and little picket fences.

“I think we should split up.” Wooyoung draws the attention of everyone like a fresh carcass in the sights of several buzzards. His hands immediately raise up in defense.

“That’s an awful idea, Wooyoung.”

“Why would you even suggest that?”

“Are you dumb or stupid or both?”

“Hear me out,” Wooyoung knows if he can’t separate himself from everyone than he won’t be able to pull off his plan and all the daydreaming and late night scheming was all for naught.

And of course his biggest haters— obstacles just had to be Seonghwa, Hongjoong and San.

Yeosang remained silent at the side and while he could have voiced his own opposition against Wooyoung’s suggestion, even adding that his companion was in fact planning something nefarious, instead he kept his mouth shut. Honestly, he didn’t know if he was doing that to protect his longtime friend or because a part of him was just the smallest bit curious about what he was going to do. He knew it wasn’t going to be dog crap on fire, no, Wooyoung wouldn’t be as persistent over something like that despite having suggested it in their conversation beforehand. That meant whatever was actually going to happen would be bigger and likely more destructive.

“I don’t see an issue with separating,” Mingi pauses, shifting a bit under Hongjoong’s sudden glare on him, “‘S long as we have a buddy with us or something, you know?”

“Honestly, it’s not that bad of an idea.” Yunho gave a supportive pat to Mingi’s shoulder, the latter slumping a bit in relief.

“You all seem to missing the fact that we are beyond hated by the townspeople. If they see any form of us, be it in a group of nine, or several groups of two to three, they will begin spreading word of omens and be on our heels every step we make. We will be safer in a larger group, bigger numbers are always greater.” The longer Seonghwa tried to stress his fear, the more his words came out rushed and slurred and his home-rooted accent began to slip through the cracks. It was endearing to hear, at least Faust thought so as she listened on.

“I’m so tired of being held back from doing something just because it’ll hurt the townies feelings. Fuck those judgmental assholes. They don’t control me or any of us.” Wooyoung feigns his anger into a bratty stomp and two balled fists at his sides before striding off down the road towards the town. He ignored the calling of his name, fighting the wicked smile threatening to split his lips apart.

The others seem to rally forward after him except for Faust, who watches on with a knowing squint behind the lenses of her shades.

~~~~~~~~

The buddy system separated into four groups. Faust had taken her picks first without a single beat, Hongjoong and Yunho now hanging off both of her arms. Seonghwa and San decided to stick together since they had a like-minded agreement on the entire situation. Mingi and Jongho attached at each other’s hips almost instantly and quickly set off down the sidewalk while babbling back and forth on what store to go in first. That left Yeosang, and while Wooyoung wanted to enact his plan alone, having the extra help might have been beneficial. Even if Yeosang didn’t want to be an accomplice to anything the younger was cooking up.

“That settles it then. We meet back at the eyesore at three, no later unless mischief comes calling.” Faust doesn’t elaborate but there’s a barely concealed twinkle in her eye when she lingers on Wooyoung.

He knows. She knows. They both know because Wooyoung had asked her last night for a helping hand— and not just between the sheets. Yeosang knows something but also doesn’t know very much. And the rest are as clueless as a newborn baby fresh out of the womb.

Everyone disperses in different directions, some chatting low and discreetly while others laugh and yap away their excitement. It wasn’t every day that they get to be normal. Somewhat normal.

~~~~~~~~

Seonghwa and San treaded to the left, heeled boots crunching against loose sediment blown from the sea breeze across the sidewalk. Only a few people were out, an old sleepy woman dressed in blush staring wistfully at an antique record player displayed in a storefront window. San could see the smallest of movements in her feet, a tiny shuffle and toe tap with the tips of her strappy ballet flats. It almost made him smile— almost. Once she turned and spotted them behind thin wire frames, her already age-worn face seemed to pull downward even more and whatever mirth previously homed in her eyes had turned sour. She eyed them with a disapproving frown, thin lips smacking together. It was all in preparation, a wad of spit hurled at their feet upon passing.

San’s jaw clenches and Seonghwa, more than inclined to ignore the nasty behaviors of a less than innocent old hag, brushed a comforting hand across his nape. A reminder, unspoken but felt. She’s not worth a million and one words, she’s not worth a dime in a dozen, she’s not worth more than the dirt she’ll be buried with.

When they finally clear her path, San speaks, “I hate it, Hwa. I really do.”

“I know,” And after a moment, “I do too.”

“They treat us like fruit gone bad. Fly infested, dirty— filth.” San kicks a stray rock out of frustration but misses instead scuffing the toe of his boot. That makes him more upset. Enough to croon loudly like an old alley cat.

Seonghwa is quick to clamp a hand over his mouth, eyes casting around frantically to any of the townspeople out and about. Of course, nothing goes unnoticed and those meandering around are already mean-mugging the two, some even whispering openly. Seonghwa bows his head and uses his body to shove San into a random shop to their left. The inside is bright and disarming. Small trinkets, stationary, stuffed toys, and collectibles line shelves upon shelves from wall to wall. Above their heads plays a catchy little tune.

A young girl stands behind the counter towards the back, flipping through a magazine and barely looking up at the two standing frozen near the door. “Welcome. If you need any assistance let me know.”

She doesn’t even bat an eye at them. No scowl, no harsh words, no wads of spit or threats of bullets or fire. San looks at Seonghwa, the other man’s hand still firm over his mouth. Seonghwa blinks a few times before clearing his throat, his head bowing a bit.

“Oh… uh, thank you.”

“No problem.”

San nudges him with his elbow and Seonghwa removes his hand. “Does she not know who we are?”

“I don’t know, but if she doesn’t,” He observes her long enough to see her nose wrinkle at something she reads, mumbling low under her breath before flipping the page away, “Then we better make nice and enjoy the peace while we have it.”

Seonghwa browses along the wall closest to the entrance, every so often glancing over to see if the young clerk finally recognized them and would, inevitably, hurl unsavory words in their direction but her nose remained in the magazine. It was a bit unsettling. San had strayed to one of the short aisles, bending a bit to look at the selection of keychain’s hanging on display. He cooed at the sight of the cute little animals— two cats, two dogs, a pink bunny, the cutest bear, a pouty chick and a rather unhinged looking squirrel. The itch in his hand gravitated towards one of the cats, its purple fur soft to the touch and curled smile making his own lips lift at the corners. Oh— and what a delightful surprise awaiting him when he turns the feline over in his hand, one pink heart embroidered on each butt-cheek.

“Just so you know, those are buy one get one half off or buy two and get one for free. Outfits aren’t included.”

San startles slightly at the girl’s voice and turns to look at her at the counter. She’s already looking at him and with his attention now on her, she points a bright orange nail at the keychains in front of him. He expects her to react negatively now that he’s somewhat closer to her but she remains as passive as she did when they stumbled in. He blinks rapidly and then stutters out, “Ah— thank you.”

She nods and once again returns to her magazine.

San settles his gaze back on the cat in his hand before looking at the other keychains. He’d hate to leave the remaining ones behind after selecting his three picks. He casts a look over to Seonghwa, the latter seemingly preoccupied with browsing over several boxes with different themes sprawled across the fronts— flowers, houses, spacecrafts and other objects. Perhaps he could get him to buy the remaining five keychains so that none are left behind. San plucks one of the dogs off the metal hanger, its fur is white and ears long. His final choice is the other cat, black with a little bell attached to a red collar.

Seonghwa is… overwhelmed. His eyes bounce from one object to the next, something cute and soft catches his attention one second and then something else that’s more displayable and stiff and less for touching and more for decoration draws him in. There’s so much to look at, so much to overlook, too much to not see. He wished he was some kind of eldritch creature with thousands of eyes just so he could absorb everything all at once without the possibility of missing something. But he does finally settle on a large sized box, an overly big and complicated looking spacecraft that draws him in like a bird to a window.

He blinks and suddenly he’s standing shoulder to shoulder with San with the box under one arm, his hand struggling to grip the bottom of it while his other arm is curled around the other five keychains that San had convinced him they needed to get (“It’s unfair to see your friends getting chosen while you are left behind. They should all stay together.”) and a much larger version of the pink rabbit. San had his three chosen keychains and what looked like a fawn and white colored dog under his arm. Its little black eyes looked to be squinting, as if fighting off the impending approach of the sandman.

They stand nervously at the counter, waiting for the girl to take notice of them. The unease has yet to wear off despite her hospitality being nothing but welcoming since they stepped foot in the shop.

She glances up and immediately shifts the magazine away to make space for their haul. “Find everything you wanted? I would say need but nobody ever comes in here for needs just wants.” She gives a humored wink before gesturing to the box under Seonghwa’s arm. He’s quick to place it on the counter, an awkward smile providing far too much teeth in return.

“Is— Is this place new?” What he really wants to ask is if she’s new.

She hums, yanking a handheld scanner over from beside the register. “Been here for about two and a half months. Originally was located in the north but business had gone stale and needed some place fresh to keep things… fresh. At least that’s what my mom says. She grew up here but left, like, a long time ago.” She’s meticulous with scanning and quick to bag everything up for the both of them. Seonghwa decides to pay for everything using the fat-bellied envelope that Faust had distributed to each group before everyone dispersed, inside held large amounts of cash with every desired want and need written along each piece of paper.

“So, you don’t know who we are?” San lets the question slip without a second thought.

Seonghwa is torn between grabbing all the bags and running as quick as he can in his heeled boots or throttling San until he is nothing but a meaty heap.

The girl looks between the two, “Yeah, I’ve heard about the two of you. Well, technically I’ve heard about ‘eight weirdos in maid uniforms and their equally off-putting mistress’. I assume that’s what you mean. The talk of the town or whatever.” She waves a flippant hand.

Both men look at each other, unsure how to respond.

“Don’t worry or anything. I don’t care what a bunch of old assholes say. If anything, I think it’s pretty cool that you’re comfortable being yourselves despite the judgement. Can’t say I don’t admire the confidence.”

If they didn’t know what to say before than they definitely didn’t now, every single word took an early vacation to somewhere far away and left both of them standing there like two brainless deers in the path of two bright headlights.

~~~~~~~~

Jongho could acknowledge the daggers hurled at his back but he finds the assortment of paintbrush sets and little bottles of every imaginable color of paint to be far more worthy of his attention. His stash from over the years has significantly decreased and the quality of his brushes rivaled the hair on ears of corn. Truly, it was a pitiful sight and every time he dared to glance at his unfinished work on the canvas banished to the corner of his room, it served as a reminder of what he didn’t have anymore. Which was good art supplies.

Mingi was somewhere else in the shop, the cozy bookstore and hobbyist retreat blended together to make a creatives ideal sanctuary for crafting and collecting.

The older was browsing the large selection of books from one end of one dark-wood shelf to another— fiction, non-fiction, fantasy, horror, historical, young adult; the list of genres offered went on and on and on. Mingi had only seen one library that was as extensive as what the shop had and that was the one he used to frequent when he was just a teenager back in his home town. The smell, the assortment, the feel of the spines against his fingertips brought back the memories of weekends spent browsing for his next adventure between paperbacks or hardcovers and late evenings taking study breaks to escape into the contents offered by printed pages.

Faust, during the early days of her courtship with Mingi, had inquired about a singular desire of his. He assumed she expected something as mundane as bottomless riches or immortality to fall past his lips but before he could even surprise her with what he truly wanted— she had already manifested it in the form of a floor to ceiling library capped off with more books than he’d seen since his adolescent days. Admittedly, and to his immediate embarrassment, the three forbidden words may or may not have slipped past his lips in that moment despite the two just starting to see each other romantically. She still teases him every so often about the slip up when he’s caught staring wistfully at the books.

Mingi feels the back of his neck grow warm at the memory, enough for him to rub at the skin a bit.

“Look, over there. It’s one of them.”

“Well I’ll be damned, you’re right.”

“Why the hell is one of those freaks here?”

And suddenly the heat from the memory wasn’t so much from his remembrance but from the burning hatred aimed right at the back of his person. It made him squirm in place, going from foot to foot with unease. The bubble of comfort he had surrounded himself in was popped with the sharp edges of unsavory remarks and hurtful comments.

Jongho sidles over without a word, a shopping basket hanging from one of his forearms. Mingi casts his eyes downward, roving over the various paint bottles, brushes, a wooden palette and a few medium sized canvases piled into the basket.

“That’s a lot.”

“Go big or go home.”

“I’m beginning to feel like we should…” Mingi’s voice drops into a low murmur, almost whispered into his chest.

But Jongho hears it perfectly clear, as one would if each word was screamed directly into one’s ear. It makes him frown; big and pouty.

“Why? Because some lowlife half-wits can’t put the breaks on their motormouths?”

Mingi startles at the younger’s sudden rise in tone, not at all keeping the exchange private. That draws more attention than previously. Suddenly the two are under a spotlight, one that burns with the intent to hurt.

“Jongho—“

“Tch— don’t, Jongho, me. We have every right as the spiders in the corners of this place to be here.” Jongho turns, immediately narrowing his eyes at the group standing near the checkout counter, the ones responsible for badmouthing Mingi. “We have the means to pay. Which means our business should be no different than anyone else’s.”

One man, sun-worn and homely looking steps forward with a scowl. “Don’t rope us together. You ain’t one of us and we as hell are nothing like you freaks.”

Jongho let’s out an over-exaggerated sigh of relief, swiping a hand across his fringe. “That’s such a relief to hear you say that. I mean, honestly. I don’t know what would be worse— any of you standing on the same ground as us freaks or us having even the smallest of relation to any of you.”

“What the fuck did you say, boy?”

There’s an uncomfortable tension blanketing the shop, one that has everyone on edge. Mingi knows that if he doesn’t step between Jongho and the man then the younger will abandon his words for swipes of his fists. But as he opens his own mouth to say something, there’s a loud sound outside and then suddenly the floor underneath them shakes enough to knock things off shelves and rattle everyone where they stood.

Within a second of the tremor settling, blares a grating alarm. The shop erupts into a fit of chaos, panicked screams and hurried bodies rushing from every corner and crevice towards the doors has the visceral energy of cockroaches when they are suddenly cast into light. Jongho looks to Mingi and Mingi looks to Jongho. There’s something unspoken exchanged between them, agreed upon, and sealed tight under a silent pact. The taller of the two rushes towards a shelf, yanking books off and throwing them down into what little space the basket hanging from Jongho’s arm has to offer. He was eyeing this series for a while now (or rather since he saw it in the junk mail tab on the old outdated computer in the library back at the manor) and luckily the shop had the entire collection in stock.

Mingi goes for another few books, ones that he skimmed over while walking aimlessly through the aisles until the basket is weight down enough for the handles to dig uncomfortably into Jongho’s forearms.

“Anything else?”

“Don’t you think that’s enough?”

Jongho smiles, cheekily. “No such thing as enough when you’re getting it for free.”

~~~~~~~~

Hongjoong should have known by the wicked gleam in Faust’s eyes that she wasn’t stepping foot in this store with the intentions to buy anything— or rather, not initially. Of course, now she has to. She may be a demon and doesn’t necessarily have to abide by the laws of humans but that doesn’t mean she will be anything but honest and respectful. She’ll buy the pretty sheer lilac and powder green lingerie set when she’s finished giving it a thorough run-through.

There’s a muffled whine hidden between the layers of thin fabric stuffed into Hongjoong’s mouth, his hands pressed flat against the mirror on the farthest wall from the dressing room door. Faust is stretched over his back, still fully clothed for the most part minus her trousers holding snug around her knees. She’s got a not-so little secret buried into her beloved husband, a conjured cock manifested just above her stuffed pussy. Yunho stands behind her, pressed firmly forward, his breathing harsh. She hadn’t bothered willing the crimson skin to match the rest of her disguise, finding it erotic to see how her mound fades from the human complexion she’d chose to her natural red flesh which disappears and reappears from Hongjoong’s slightly tanned complexion.

In the mirror, she watches. Eyes alight when gazing over at her husband just over her shoulder, his wide eyes drawn partially closed, face flushed so prettily across the apples of his cheeks to the knob of his nose. Yunho had the enthusiasm of an overzealous puppy, taking all that he could and giving back half as much and in a fashion that was uncoordinated and self-centered. His hips could hardly part very far, the enveloping heat around his cock too much to stray from. Fast ruts is all he can manage, soft yet sharp plap plap plap’s sounding too loud in the small space. Faust has a knowing smile on her lips, one that she keeps buried into the back of Hongjoong’s head.

“Feel’s good, hm?” She purrs to nobody in particular.

Yet both men answer simultaneously— Hongjoong’s head bobbing up and down while Yunho parts his lips with a pitiful whine. Faust sinks her cock into Hongjoong relentlessly, prying one of his supple cheeks apart while her other hand follows a sneaky trail over his hip and down to his flopping cock. His head drops downward, forehead lightly smacking against the mirrors surface. Hongjoong was intending on willing his eyes shut, to drown and succumb to the pleasure rocking through his body but instead he kept them open to witness the private show just below him. Fausts hand had his leaking dick in quite a firm hold, pumping his shaft quickly to match not only her own thrusts but Yunho’s. Everything had a pattern, a certain synchronization. While Yunho pounded forward, Faust used the momentum to bury herself further into Hongjoong which made his cock drag past her ring of fingers.

“‘M going to come—“ Yunho removed his hands from the demon’s hips, instead shifting them past Faust and Hongjoong to splay against the mirror.

This causes Faust to be forced tighter against Hongjoong and the shorter man to be pressed firmly into the glass.

It’s nothing short of his undoing, the head of his cock hitting the mirrors cool surface and rubbing against it just enough to snip the thread holding his entire person together. Hongjoong shoots his load in wild ropes, flinging cum from the sides and across the mirror. And he watches it all, like it’s his own personal viewing of an erotic film. Faust enjoys the way his body shudders, convulsing around her own cock until she’s stilling inside to bask in her own euphoric spiral. It isn’t necessary for her to spew cum like her husbands do but she finds the act so utterly tantalizing that she wills it without a second thought. Her orgasm splits and rampages down two different paths. One to her cock buried in Hongjoong and the other to her cunt holding Yunho’s dick captive.

Such a visceral feeling, like being torn apart from the line of her scalp down the center of her body. It’s enough to draw a round of laughter deep within the pit of her stomach, loud and layered as if she was only one of many enjoying an inside joke.

Yunho doesn’t even last a second longer, pressing his pelvis tight against Faust’s backside as his cock empties every bit of what his balls had to offer inside of her.

Faust is still laughing despite the raucous knocks against the changing room door and the voice of the woman running the place questioning the happenings occurring out of her line of sight. But that’s hardly the most concerning thing. What is, is the sudden commotion shaking the walls and making the floor nearly convulse beneath their feet. Yunho pulls back in alarm, eyes wide and looking from one wall to the other.

“What was that?”

Faust draws away, cock slipping out of Hongjoong and fizzling into nothingness. She’s adorning that ever-knowing grin, one that holds the answers yet gives absolutely nothing away.

“That, my darling, is our cue to make like a banana and split.”

Hongjoong lifts his head, turning it only slightly to look over his shoulder. The fabric in his mouth is spat out, the panties belonging to the sheer set the demon had snatched off a rack in passing now lying in a damp heap on the bench the man was kneeling on. “What do you mean by ‘cue’? Cue for what?” Despite the dry scratch of his throat, his questions are laced with an insistence that’s fairly understandable.

“Last night I was asked for a little… favor. I expected the results to be something along these lines but as far as the timing, I’m a bit disappointed he decided to do it so early into our rendezvous.” Faust tugs her trousers up and snaps them closed by the buttons, caring little about the cum sticking against her and inadvertently soaking into the crotch of her pants. She’d forgone any underwear specifically for this occasion, the plan to get naughty somewhere with one or two of her husbands at the top of her to-do list of the day.

“Favor?” Yunho hurries to right the skirt of his uniform, mouth slightly parted.

Hongjoong places his feet onto the ground, his knees popping in protest and sporting abnormal shaped splotches. He shoves and tugs his own dress into order, or as good as he can. “He?”

Faust scoops up the soiled panties from the bench and snatches the bralette from the hanger abandoned on the ground. She shoves both items into her purse with a wiggle of her brows.

~~~~~~~~

Yeosang figured out just where Wooyoung was going rather quickly once they cleared the shops, his steps hasty leaving behind clouds of dust that the other man had the unfortunate circumstance of running right through. It was a building that was far more ornate than any of the others in town, sporting gold domes above cleanly sculpted coquina exterior walls and columns. A large staircase that fanned out wider at the bottom lead up to two large mahogany doors with golden accents to match the gold scripture right above the wood— Town Hall.

Wooyoung could practically feel his blood rushing in his veins. With his target in sight and right at his fingertips was the revenge he’s been spending night and day dreaming about. From where he had stopped in his pursuit, he could see the outcome playing out and it was far more satisfying than he could have ever imagined.

“Wooyoung, will you tell me your plan now?” Yeosang stood beside him, a bit winded.

“I’m going to blow the town hall up.”

Silence eclipses the two, only the soft whistle of the ocean’s breeze and the very faint murmur coming from the shops fills the open air. Yeosang slowly turns his head to the right; if he were made of metal and gears and had decades of rust built up on his joints there would have been a very audible creak much like an old door in a long forgotten house.

“You… what?!”

Wooyoung smacks a hand over Yeosang’s mouth, not caring in the slightest that it has a bit of perspiration gathered on it. Yeosang does, however, nose immediately wrinkling at the moisture now transferred to his lips. He yanks away quickly, lifting the back of his own hand to wipe away the mild saltiness.

“You can’t be serious, Wooyoung? This isn’t lighting bags of dog crap on peoples doorsteps, this is a destruction of government property.” Yeosang looks from shoulder to shoulder before crowding closer to the other, voice dropping lower just in case the breeze decided to carry their secrets to any of the townspeople out and about. “You will go to prison. We will go to prison— oh my god, I’ll be charged with accessory just for fucking being here with you!” Wooyoung hastily places his hand once again over Yeosang’s mouth when the whispering turned not-so quiet.

“We are not going to prison. ‘S long as we don’t get caught. Simple as that— now shut up and let me explain the plan before you rat us out to the entire town.”

Wooyoung removes his hand with a huff, pouting slightly when Yeosang wipes away at his mouth for the second time with a frown.

“Stop that, I wasn’t sweating that bad.”

“Feels like I got splashed by the ocean.”

Yeosang yelps suddenly, the skin of his bicep wedged between Wooyoung’s teeth in a swift bite. It leaves a mark behind when the younger unlatches himself from the bulging muscle. Yeosang inspects it with a grumble. He would have preferred the hand over his mouth for the third time.

“The plan is simple. You will stay out here and keep anyone from going in the building, lie if you have to or start coughing everywhere. You know these assholes will run for the cliff sides if they think you’ve got something contagious. I will go inside, find the mayors office and implant the bomb—“

“Bomb? How the hell did you get a bomb?”

Wooyoung’s lips part into a toothy grin, hand disappearing beneath the layers of his skirt before yanking out the contraption that looked, well, nothing like the usual explosive. In fact, it’s in the shape of a small book or journal. Totally unassuming.

“That’s… the bomb?”

“Neat, right? Had our lady whip it up last night. Think she did a pretty good job.”

Yeosang blinks incredulously, “Wait, wait, wait. Faust made you a bomb? Does she know about your plan?”

“Well, yes and no. I asked her for a favor after we were done making hot and steamy—“

“Save the details, I would rather eat nails than listen to what you and our wife does in private.” Yeosang had raised his hand, his line was drawn and he wasn’t going to have it defiled by Wooyoung’s need to yap.

Wooyoung rolls his eyes, “So dramatic. Anyways, I asked if she could make me an explosive that could obliterate an entire building but not, like, wipe out a piece of the planet from existence. It needed to be innocuous, something that would fly under anyone’s radar. And this baby, is what she produced.” He gives it a shake and something akin to knuckles on a hollow box reverberates back.

“Okay, that only partially answers my questions. Did she know you were planning on blowing up town hall?”

“Yeah— no. Obviously she knew I was blowing something up but as far as what…” He trails off with a shrug.

“Great, just great.”

“Zip it. You should be grateful that you are in charge of the easier part of this plan. Not that you were even supposed to be here in the first place.” The last half is mumbled, lost within his dramatic turn and ascent up the stairs. “Now be a good little lookout and let daddy Wooyoung take care of the main event.”

Yeosang audibly gags to which Wooyoung answers with a singular middle finger before slipping beyond the mahogany doors of the town hall. That leaves the older outside alone and suddenly he feels very much out in the open. As if the sight of him wasn’t worthy of suspicion and here he stands like a drop of black paint against a completely white wall.

“Should’ve went with Jongho and Mingi instead.”

“Bahhh.”

Yeosang freezes, looking from left to right.

“Bahhhhh.”

The sound is redundant, sourcing just around the corner of the town hall. Yeosang follows it hesitantly, not at all attuned with barnyard animals. What greets him is a goat, a bit plump and brown in color tied to one of the magnolia trees framing the building. He blinks and the goat blinks and then another ‘bahhhh’ or maybe it’s ‘wahhhh’ comes out of its mouth. Yeosang isn’t so sure.

“Look, it wasn’t my idea. I just wanted to do a little shopping and then go home but now I’m here playing lookout with two empty hands.”

The goat repeats it’s elongated noise and Yeosang answers it with an agreeing nod.

“Trust me, I know. I live with the guy— even share a wife with him. Isn’t that crazy?”

“Bahh.”

“Mhm.”

“Bahh-bahh.”

“Yeah, totally.”

Yeosang goes to say something more but he’s suddenly thrown to the ground as the front entrance of the town hall blasts right off followed by the roof and the sides. Everything happens so quickly— from the explosion to the smoke and fire and the debris raining down. Between the ringing in both of his ears, Yeosang can hear varying degrees of screaming, some closer and others much farther away. And the goat, he can hear the goat. Bahhhhh!

~~~~~~~~

Wooyoung slips in and dips behind a fake fern stuck in one of the corners by the front doors. He separates a couple of the leaves with his fingers to peek around. So far nobody is in sight. Which could be good or bad depending on the situation. Either no one is here and he’s free to plant the bomb and then roll out without issue or there are actually many people around but he just can’t see them and that will definitely make everything far more challenging than he would like.

Slowly, he creeps along the closest wall. Every so often pausing to hear if someone is moving around.

The mayor’s office isn’t hard to find considering it’s right across from the entrance beyond an extravagant archway with a large golden plaque nailed right at the top. Wooyoung couldn’t help but scoff at the sight of it. Of course the bastard needed a big fancy sign to broadcast his rather overly large ego.

Surprisingly, the grand room is empty. Bone-dry of life yet perfect for Wooyoung to scurry in. Except, in his haste the man trips over the oval area rug and slams down onto the floor. The book-bomb flies out of his hand on impact and slides under the mayor’s desk. Wooyoung groans, rolling over onto his back with a flurry of curses. Then he freezes, hearing a couple of unmistakable beeps. His head flops back and the sight that greets him is enough for him to stumble to his feet. The hardcover of the book opens and the bomb inside is revealed— nothing exceptionally special about it but the trigger mechanism for it to go off is attached to the cover and Wooyoung somewhat remembers Faust telling him to keep the book closed until absolutely necessary.

Now it was wide open and a red light was blinking rapidly to match the beeping.

Wooyoung is rushing out of the room, running (unfortunately) into the mayor and his right-hand seemingly coming back from lunch if by the smell of barbecue clinging to their tightly fitted suits.

“You— what are you doing in here?”

“Just leaving!”

The two men are yelling after Wooyoung but the man continues onward, reaching the entrance just as the bomb detonates and tosses him through the doors and onto the front lawn.

~~~~~~~~

Yeosang isn’t sure what compelled him to do it but the rope that was holding the goat to the tree is now hanging loose over his shoulder while the goat itself is nestled between his arms. It didn’t even protest at being lifted, as if accepting a fate far more better than whatever it has been living up until this point. Despite the slight hearing loss and the fact that his body was definitely shaking uncontrollably— Yeosang was capable enough to somewhat move in a straight line if not leaning a bit to the side.

When rounding the side, he immediately sees Wooyoung laying flat on his front like a starfish. He would’ve found the sight amusing any other day but they had to get out before they were apprehended by the police.

“Wooyoung, get the hell up! Unless you’re dead, then stay down.”

Wooyoung groans, shuffling onto his knees and then staggering to his feet. “Sorry to disappoint you but… fuck— I’m still living to see another day.”

“The only person who will be happy to hear that is our wife and now let’s go!”

“Wait— why the fuck do you have a goat?!”

Both men take off on unsteady feet, bumping into each other and the crowd of townspeople rushing towards the scene. Yeosang barely hears the question over the ringing in his ears. “Finders keepers!”

The shops coming into view is like seeing water in the desert— actual water and not a mirage. Both men hurry down the sidewalk on the left and just in time to see both Seonghwa and San emerge from one shop with matching expressions of bewilderment. Seonghwa is the first to notice their hurried approach, zeroing in on the dust coating their uniforms and the dirt smeared across their faces. He’s quick to gather that the loud noise had been their doing and felt quite a mouthful about to spill past his lips. However, before he could lay in on either one, Wooyoung had latched onto San’s arm and nearly yanked him out of his shoes.

“You can lecture us later, we’ve got to go!”

Seonghwa snaps his lips shut and follows behind Yeosang, eyes widening at the sight of the goat in his arms suddenly peering over his shoulder.

The next to appear is Mingi and Jongho, the younger now sporting two baskets full of art supplies and books and random items used as decor that he thought would look rather nice in the Mastodon. Mingi had an armful of more or less the same things along with pillows he snatched from the reading armchairs and a lamp with a frog on the bottom lounging with a book in its hand.

They don’t even say anything, just merging into the group as everyone runs.

The last to appear is Hongjoong, Yunho and Faust.

“What the hell is happening?!” Hongjoong is nearly trampled over if not for Yunho yanking him out of the way.

“Wooyoung blew up the town hall!” Yeosang didn’t even care if he had just ousted the younger, wanting nothing more than to reach the Windsor and ride off to the safety of their home.

“You did what?!”

Now everyone was booking it, blazing past the ugly welcoming sign and towards the Windsor. Jongho fumbled with the keys a bit but managed to quickly unlock the doors just in time for Wooyoung to nearly slam into them. He yanks one side open and throws himself into the second row of seats. Yeosang follows him closely, a bit more mindful of the goat still in his arms with San and Seonghwa joining them. Hongjoong, Yunho and Mingi scurry into the first row and Jongho and Faust settle into the driver’s and passenger seats respectively.

The key is shoved in the ignition and the motor roars to life. Jongho stomps his foot onto the gas pedal and jerks the wheel to the side, the Windsor sharply turns and peels out in a rush.

“Tell me,” Hongjoong turns to look at Wooyoung and Yeosang, “Why is it when shit hits the fan it is always you two at the scene of the crime?!”

“I don’t know, might be a medical problem or something.”

“And the goat?” San looks over at the animal with an eyebrow raised.

“Her name is Goatrude.” Yeosang pets the coarse hair on her side gently.

“Welcome to the family, Goatrude. I believe you will find this new life of yours quite exciting.” Faust adorns a wide grin, watching the aftermath of Wooyoung’s little escapade in the side view mirror, the smoke from the explosion reaching far up into the sky.

#ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez x female character #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #jeong yunho #kang yeosang #choi san #song mingi #jung wooyoung #choi jongho #bathic’s:maidsofmastodon

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