#mk can TOTALLY be swayed to join the resistance

[newdleboy]

just a few lil notes abt shad.yclaw verse for mk !!

When MK moved to Paris, he didn't really make any friends, preferring to keep to himself.

He became more and more closed off since things at home weren't really great; his dads had separated and he was having trouble getting them to work out their differences.

Okay, he has one (1) whole friend, and that friend is Lila, unfortunately.

This made him an excellent target for The Supreme; MK was recruited by Lila. He was given the miraculous of the Monkey. ( i'll work on a name for him pls be patient w me, i am slow !! )

He now works for The Supreme, though it doesn't always feel right. Still, he doesn't really have a choice now that he's involved.

Has definitely had to fight against the resistance.

I know this isn't super detailed, but i will come back to it !!

[lxveille]

another love song

mk x reader

word count: ~ 2080 warnings: references to alcohol a/n: university!au; another ‘trying to get back into the feel of writing’ fic so... idk ?? tbh it’s more of a fic treatment but here’s what i’m posting anyway

Minkyun has gotten inspiration for his songs from you before. This one is different.

You’re nearly always the first person to place money into Minkyun’s open guitar case when he’s busking. 

More often than not, he tries to return your money once he’s packed up for the afternoon - but you refuse, and tell him he earned it. Then he usually spends more on you than you gave by buying you bubble tea or coffee before the two of you trek back to campus.

You’re not sure what you’d do with your Saturday afternoons if not for him.

You’d met Minkyun in a literature class your first year of university. At first it had been easy to write him off as a high school class clown having some difficulty adjusting to university expectations. Except that sometimes, when your professor would really dig into the themes of a text, he’d have something to share that would stick with you. A thought - sometimes chaotically explained - that would rumble around in your brain for a week, even. Eventually, you decided a proper introduction was in order. A fatal mistake, if you’d hoped to keep up some aloof, studious front. He had a way of warming others up, it turned out. You discovered he was friends with a number of people with unfriendly faces who somehow transformed into lighthearted, open books in Minkyun’s presence.  

You feel a little lighter around him, too. 

And on the days you don’t, he invites you to unburden. 

It became a common tableau: you sprawled out, exasperated, on the beanbag chair in his dorm room, ranting about anything that bothered you while he lay on his bed, half-propped up against the wall and strumming occasional notes on his guitar. A last complaint and a final chord, and then Minkyun would be on his feet with an idea of what the two of you should do to shake it out of your system for once and for all. Those plans only sometimes included just enough beer that the both of you were giddy and ready to laugh at anything. 

If Minkyun had to name one good reason to get drunk with you, it was this: it was the only time you’d sing. The very first time you let yourself break into song in front of him had been at a bar. It had been difficult to make out your voice over the speakers, but Minkyun heard. Maybe more important, though, was the way you swayed your shoulders and rocked into each syllable. 

He would tease sometimes that you ought to join him when he busked. He might make more with you joining in. 

“Ah, but then you’d have to split it with me, too,” you’d reply. You assumed, at least, that he must be kidding. 

It was spring the first time Minkyun asked you to listen to something original he’d composed. There was something personal about it that had never occurred to you when listening to a song before. For all the times you had watched him play, it was like looking at him from a new angle. Just as his commentary used to linger on your mind, his songs began to do the same.

 And in the winter of your second year, he asked if it’d be okay to use some of your own rants as inspiration in songs. 

“What?” you asked. 

“Just - the way you talk about the guys you’re getting over, and stuff like that. It could make for good lyrics.” 

“You’re going to quote me?”

“Well,” he lingered on the syllable, then broke into a dimpled smile. “No. But I don’t wanna take inspiration without telling you!”

So it happened that when he performed songs of his own, you sometimes began to recognize bits of your own infatuations and fallings outs weaved into his lyrics. The way he framed it, it usually made it easier to get over whoever had been behind the heartbreak. 

Minkyun isn’t busking today. The drizzle is enough that it wouldn’t be worth it. All the same, he spent the better part of the morning sending you messages asking you to come over. 

When you finally cave, you put on a front of unhappiness at the door, shaking out your umbrella before passing it over to his extended hand.

“I brought some stuff for my class so I can try to get work done like I’d planned,” you told him. 

He pouted for dramatic flair. “So you’re really just gonna act like you’re at your room at mine?”

“That’s what we agreed to! I told you I wanna get this reading done so I can just be hungover tomorrow without having to worry about Monday’s lecture.” 

“Damn, and people try to frame university drinkers as irresponsible.” 

“What can I say? I’m flawless,” you comment dryly as you pass into his room. 

“So you’re still going out even if the rain keeps up?” Minkyun asks. He settles into his usual spot near the foot of his mattress. You rummage through your bag for a textbook and your printed copy of the syllabus before finding a spot somewhere closer to the pillow. 

“Mm,” you affirm, “I think I’m officially entirely over Seungcheol, so it’ll be good for me to go out.” 

“Ahhh.” There’s something guttural and mischievous in the way he makes the sound. It’d be fair to expect some ribbing comment on how transparent you could be with these things. No such remark comes. 

It’s some time later, when you’re nearly done with your assigned reading, that Minkyun announces that he finished a new song recently. 

“Like one of your own?” you ask. 

He nods, and adds how he’d been thinking of playing it out this weekend if it hadn’t been for the poor turn in weather. 

You exaggerate a gasp. “You were going to share a song with a crowd before sharing it just with me?” There’s no real offence. It’s only a pattern that you’d noticed. Sometimes he’d say it felt needed, if only because he based part of the lyrics’ premise on your own experiences instead of his own. 

“I know!” Minkyun laughs airly. “Mother nature said not to, I guess!” 

“Well, are you going to play it now then?” You should tell him to wait until you’ve finished this chapter. That way you won’t entirely lose track of things. But you’re not infallible; and if there’s one thing you’re horrible at resisting it’s the chance to hear Minkyun play. 

He hops up from the bed to fetch his guitar. And he plays. 

It’s a love song, which doesn’t come as a surprise. Minkyun told you from the beginning - or at least when he first asked if he could take inspiration from your own heart’s tribulations - that he liked to write about that feeling. The good, the bad, or at the very least what he imagined of it. 

This song doesn’t feel familiar. Usually you can tell when he’s written indirectly about your own affairs. So these endearing words, these syrupy lines of dedication, of patiently waiting for the other one to notice… They must be from his own experience. 

A corner of your heart goes sour at that thought, and retorts that it might be one of his other friends. Devoted and hoping it won’t go unnoticed would be right up Yuto’s alley, you tell yourself as your search for a likely suspect. You don’t let yourself think too much on why you don’t want it to be Minkyun’s own feelings. 

Except there’s something else that bothers you. The way he keeps his eyes on his strumming fingers, or closes them altogether. 

Normally Minkyun looks at you now and then, and smiles at your reactions to his music. Even with the unhappy songs. 

You squeeze the textbook in your lap. A corner digs into your palm. He’s somewhere in the second chorus and your mind is fogging over with an irritation. It’s not his fault. You’re not mad at him. 

You just wish you had realized you want to fall in love with Minkyun sooner.

The last chord hangs in the air before you can fully process this thought. He looks at you expectantly. 

“What do you think?” Minkyun asks. 

You force a smile. “It’s sweet.” 

He leaves space for you to elaborate. When you don’t, the corners of his lips drag down a bit. “Just sweet?” He repeats. “Is it lame?” 

“No! It’s just - it’s different from some of your other stuff. But it’s sweet. I like it. I think, um… I just was expecting it to be something based on my whole recent back and forth thing. Since you wanted to play it for me,” you try to cover for your lackluster response. 

Minkyun looks you over for a moment, then chuckles. “Not every song can be about your love life.” 

“I know! Of course! Geez, that’s not what I meant,” you rush to say, loudly, as if you needed to cover the sound of some kind of fracture in your heart. 

He leans forward to set his guitar carefully on the tiles, its neck leaning against the bed frame. “I guess that’s not totally accurate to say here though.” He shakes his head to get his hair out of his eyes as he looks your way again. 

“...What?”  

“Ah… You’re pretty clueless, huh?” Minkyun sounds content with himself, and he’s barely holding back a grin. 

“I’ve never gone on like that about someone.” 

“Yeah, I know.”  

You eye him over a few times quickly, trying to reach a conclusion that feels safe. All you can theorize for sure is that he’s practiced this all, and somehow it’s going to plan. Maybe. “What are you on about?” you ask, tone turning suspicious. 

He laughs more fully now, then shifts his position to face you directly from the other end of his duvet. “You.” 

You glance around him like this could be some hidden camera prank. “What?”

“You,” Minkyun repeats, “It’s about you.” 

In the most foolish move of the day, you suddenly felt your throat dry out the same way it does before you cry. It must have been too much at once: to realize a desire and think it ripped away only to have it suddenly offered up so easily, so soon. 

“You’re not serious.” 

“Is it bad if I am?” he asks, leaning to the right a bit as he watches your reaction. You press your palm to your clavicle, trying to get your heart and your mind in sync. “Am serious, I mean.”  

All you can manage is a shake of your head. 

Minkyun grins bright and leans forward to put a hand over the one still at your side. “You really didn’t notice?” He pulls off incredulous and teasing in one go. If you weren’t so off kilter, you might want to scold him for it somehow. 

“What was I supposed to know?” You ask instead.

He shakes his head. For a fleeting instant, you worry he’s about to brush the whole thing aside. That worry is killed pretty quickly when he leans closer instead and delicately presses an experimental kiss against your lips. 

Minkyun is back to his side of the bed in the next moment, nearly like it hadn’t happened at all.  

Your hand lifts from your clavicle to allow your fingers to brush over your own lips, still tingly with the affection. Or maybe just from his lip balm rubbing off on you. 

He gives you a second more before asking, “Still okay?” 

“Um, yeah.” 

His smile returns. “Still going out to find someone new tonight?” 

“Oh my god.” You cover your face with your hands and accuse, “You’re the worst.”

“So… is that a yes, you are?” 

He knows it isn’t. 

He’s spent all this time getting to know you. Now he gets to be the one on the receiving end of that look in your eyes. 

“Would you stop that?” You muster up as much of a snip in your voice as you can. Your gaze gives away that you’re not really annoyed. It would be difficult to be, given the way your head is still spinning from his confession.    

“Stop what?” 

The smile on his face suggests he already knows. Nevertheless, you don’t give Minkyun the satisfaction of admitting he’s teasing you. “Just kiss me again,” you swerve to a demand. Frankly, it’s the main thing you’d been thinking since the first. You’ll figure out the rest of your feelings later. 

For now, Minkyun is hardly going to deny you that.