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rpf-bat · 4 years ago

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To Join The Black Parade

Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Written for Gothtober 2020, Day 11. Prompt: “Death Parade”.

You receive an unexpected phone call, from your old friend Gerard. He asks you if you’d like to play a role, in the upcoming music video, for ‘Welcome To The Black Parade’. But, when he sees you on set, something comes over him, that neither of you ever expected.

You sat in the studio, in front of a blank canvas. You glanced up at the diploma, hanging in on the wall, in the corner. It was proof that you had graduated from SVA, with a Bachelor of Fine Arts. But, despite being certifiably good at art (on paper), you still felt like an impostor, on days like this, when you had no inspiration at all.

Your brush hovered over the empty white space, when, suddenly, you were interrupted, by the sound of the phone ringing. As soon as you saw who was calling, your expression brightened.

“Hi, Y/N,” greeted the familiar voice of Gerard Way. Simply hearing your old friend speak, was enough to make your spirits, instantly lift.

“Hi, Gee,” you smiled, moving the phone closer to your ear. “How have you been?”

Even though you talked on the phone all the time, you hadn’t seen him in person, since last summer. He had briefly returned to New Jersey, to play a Warped Tour gig. You’d hung out with him afterwards, backstage. It had been so fun - and yet, so fleeting.

“I’ve been good,” Gerard replied jovially. “I’m sorry for calling you so early, though.”

“It’s not early,” you chuckled. “It’s like, eleven o’clock.”

“Well, here, it’s only eight,” Gerard reminded you.

The East Coast was no longer his home base. He had moved to Los Angeles, a few years ago, when his band started to take off. This put him in the Pacific time zone, three hours behind you.

“How’s California treating you?” you asked. “Still staying in that weird haunted house?”

“Nah, we’re done recording the album now,” Gerard updated you. “We’re actually getting ready to film the music video, that’s gonna go with the lead single.”

“Oh, cool!” you said, interested. “What’s the single’s title?”

“It’s called ‘Welcome To The Black Parade’,” Gerard revealed cryptically.

“What’s the Black Parade?” you asked curiously.

“I have this concept for the video - well, for the whole album, really,” Gerard explained. “This guy is like, dying of cancer, and Death comes for him, in the form of his favorite childhood memory.”

“The memory is….a parade?” you guessed.

“That’s right!”, Gerard confirmed. “I kind of based it off, like, when my dad would take me and Mikey into the city, at Thanksgiving time, to see the Macy’s parade.”

“Oh, of course,” you nodded. As a fellow New Jersey native, only a ferry-ride away from the Big Apple, you had grown up going to the parade every autumn, too.

“So, this whole, like, procession of marchers, is gonna welcome The Patient into the afterlife,” Gerard went on.

“That sounds amazing,” you said honestly. “I can’t wait to see the video, when it’s finished.”

“That’s actually what I was calling you about,” Gerard confessed slyly. “We’re gonna have a lot of extras in this video shoot. Like I said, a whole parade of people. I was wondering, if you might want to be in it?”

“You want me to be in the music video?”, you repeated, eyes wide.

“Yeah,” Gerard grinned. “I just thought, it would be really nice, to see you again, and have you be a part of this whole art project with me.”

Art project. That was one way to describe it. Gerard was a big Hollywood star now, with fans all over the globe. But, he still talked about the album his band was working on, in the same way, that he used to talk to you about the comics he wanted to write. Deep down, he was still the same storyteller that you used to see in class every day.

“Gerard, I would love to,” you accepted the offer, immediately. “I’ve missed you. It’s going to be so great, to hang out again.”

“I can’t wait,” Gerard said happily. “Don’t even worry about the airfare, I can get the label to fly you out.”

“Thank you,” you said giddily. You couldn’t wait to see your old friend again.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

The flight to Los Angeles was long, but uneventful, and the day of the video shoot, arrived before you knew it. You gasped, when you walked in, and saw the set. There was a huge parade float, surrounded by a desolate, gray landscape. You wondered how long it had taken the set designers to put it together. You felt nervous, as you watched the other extras milling about, most of them already in costume.

They’re real actors, you thought anxiously. I’m just some random person.

Your nerves eased, as soon as you heard a voice behind you.

“Y/N, you made it!” Gerard said delightedly. You turned to face him.

“Whoa!” you gasped. “Your hair!”

“I know, it’s a big change,” Gerard laughed, running his hand through his short-cropped, bleach-blonde locks. Last time you had seen him, his hair had been dark, and down to his shoulders.

“What do you think?” he asked, seemingly a little self-conscious.

“It’s very different,” you said honestly, “But, I like it. A new look, to signify a new era!”

“Exactly,” Gerard nodded. “See, I knew you would get it….I gotta tell the guys you’re here. They’re gonna be psyched, to see you again.”

“I’m psyched to see Mikey, and Frankie, and Toro again, too,” you grinned. They were all old friends of yours.

“Oh, but first, I gotta introduce you to the director,” Gerard remembered. “His name’s Samuel Bayer. He’s amazing - he’s the same guy that directed the music video for ‘Bullet With Butterfly Wings’, back in the day.”

“No way!” you gasped. ‘Bullet’ was your favorite Smashing Pumpkins song.

“I know, right?” Gerard grinned. “And just last year, he did some really cool videos with Green Day, like ‘American Idiot’. I’m so happy that we were able to get him to work with us, on this video. I think it’s going to be amazing.”

“You’re such a flatterer, Gerard,” said a dark-haired man, walking over to you. “Hi, I’m Samuel.”

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you introduced yourself, shaking the director’s hand.

“I heard you’re an SVA grad, too, right?” Samuel smiled.

“Yeah, Gerard and I both graduated in ‘99,” you nodded. “You went, there, too?”

“Yeah, I was in the class of ‘87,” Samuel explained.

“Wow...small world.”

“For sure,” Samuel laughed. “Anyway, Y/N, are you ready to get changed into your costume?”

“What am I going to wear?” you wondered.

“Oh, you’re going to love it,” Gerard gushed. “We had Colleen Atwood design all the costumes for us. She’s incredible.”

“She’s the same lady, who designed the costumes for Edward Scissorhands,” Samuel added informatively.

“Whoa,” you gaped. This really was an all-star film crew. Did you really belong here?

“Here’s your outfit,” Samuel smiled, handing you in the garment bag. “Go ahead and get changed, we’ll meet you back here in five.”

“O-okay,” you gulped, suddenly unsure, if you could pull the role off - no matter how small it was.

“Don’t worry,” Gerard assured you. “I know you better than anyone, Y/N. I’m sure you’ll do great.”

“Thanks,” you said softly, calmed by his words.

“I have to go fake-sing for the camera,” Gerard chuckled. “I’ll see you soon.”

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

You took the garment bag into the bathroom, unzipping it, to reveal the costume inside.

The jacket, you noticed, was black, with a marching band style collar - pretty similar to what Gerard was wearing, when you walked in. The only difference was that yours was sleeveless. Instead of pants, your jacket was paired with a black skirt.

You hesitantly changed into the outfit. You flushed, when you looked at yourself in the mirror. The skirt was short - almost too short.

You didn’t wear things like this very often. You constantly got paint on your clothes, so you never wanted to wear anything too fancy. It would just get ruined. Most of the time, you could be found in oversized sweaters, and ratty jeans.

I can’t refuse to wear it, though, you told yourself. Even if it feels kind of uncomfortable….Gerard spent a lot of time and money to bring me out here. The least I can do, is play my role, without complaining.

You walked back onto the set, your legs feeling cold and exposed. Gerard and the band had just wrapped a scene on the float, miming playing their instruments.

“Cut!” Samuel called. “Okay, I think that was a good take!”

Done with his part, Gerard strolled back over to you.

“.....Wow,” he gaped when he laid eyes on you, his eyes widening.

“Wow, what?” you blinked, feeling self-conscious.

“Wow, you look amazing,” Gerard said, blushing. “I...I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear something like this before.”

“Oh, you think it suits me?” you asked hesitantly. You hadn’t expected this reaction.

“Absolutely,” Gerard complimented. “Have you been...working out?”

“Oh, you mean, my legs?” you realized, blushing. “Yeah, I’ve been jogging a lot…”

He stared at your uncovered thighs, making your cheeks turn hot.

“Ah, there’s my Fear!” Samuel smiled, walking over to you.

“Fear?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, you’ll be playing the role of Fear,” Samuel explained, “and this young lady here, will be playing Regret.”

He indicated a petite actress, whose costume was identical to yours. “Regret” gave you a friendly wave.

“As soon as you’re done in the makeup chair, you ladies can do your scene with Lukas,” Samuel directed.

“Who’s Lukas?” you asked.

“Lukas Haas is playing The Patient,” Gerard explained. “He’s a great actor.”

“Oh, our main character,” you nodded. “Ok, I guess I better head over there!”

You were surprised, how Gerard’s eyes seemed to follow you, as you walked away. It was almost as if he didn’t want you to leave his side.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

“Ok, we’re going to start moving the parade float forward!” Samuel announced. “Processioners, I need you to start walking forward, beside it, okay?”

You stood in line, and at his signal, you and the rest of the ‘parade’ began to march forward, towards the camera. You tried not to glance up too obviously at Gerard, who was standing on top of the float, beside you. The guys were up there with him, in matching marching band jackets. You had to admit, it was a striking look.

Lukas stumbled towards the front of the parade, wearing his hospital gown and slippers. He looked confused, and sad - a befitting expression, for a character, who was supposed to be newly deceased.

“Ok, cut!” Samuel called out. “Gerard, you’re going to lean over the side of the float, and put the medal on Lukas, okay?”

“Ok,” Gerard nodded, dangling a military-ish cross on a chain. “Like this?”

“Perfect,” Samuel praised. “Now, I need my Fear and Regret, to come stand on either side of Lukas, okay?”

“R-Right,” you stammered, moving to the spot on Lukas’ right that Samuel was pointing at.

“Now, Fear and Regret are going to kiss The Patient on the cheek,” Samuel explained.

“They’re what?” Gerard frowned, his expression turning suddenly sour.

“It’s in the script,” Samuel reminded him.

“Just on the cheek?” you clarified.

“Yeah,” Regret confirmed. “You do one, and I’ll lean in, and do the other, at the same time.”

“Oh, okay,” you shrugged. “I can do that.”

Sure, it felt a little awkward, since you’d just met Lukas twenty minutes ago. But, at least it wasn’t on the mouth, or anything.

Samuel signaled for the camera man to start filming again, and you leaned over, in sync with Regret, and planted a peck on the actor’s face.

“Cut!” Samuel shouted. “Ladies, I’m sorry, I need you to do that again.”

“Why?!” Gerard demanded. “I thought that take was fine.”

“Because you were making a face in the background,” Samuel groaned.

“N-No I wasn’t!” Gerard denied, blushing.

“You were,” Samuel insisted. “You’re supposed to have a neutral expression, and be looking at the camera. But, you were looking down at them instead.”

“You were pouting, dude,” Frank teased. “Come on, let’s try it again.”

You repeated the take, leaning over, and kissing Lukas’ cheek again.

“Cut!” Samuel called again, looking frustrated. “Gerard, the rest of the band was looking at the camera just fine. You’re still staring downwards, with that surly expression.”

“I’m not surly,” Geraed argued. “I was making a totally normal face.”

“No, he’s right,” Mikey shook his head. “You weren’t looking, where you were supposed to look at all.”

“Let’s give it one more try,” Gerard sighed. “I promise, I’ll get it right this time.”

I hope so, you thought with a frown. How many times, am I going to have to put my lips on this guy’s face today?

“You know what,” Samuel shrugged, “why don’t we just take a break for lunch, and try again in thirty?”

This was fine with you - you were already bored, with the repetition. You wished you knew what was throwing Gerard off.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

You found Gerard by the craft services table, listlessly eating a handful of Cheetos.

“Are you okay?” you asked him softly, as you filled your own plate with snacks.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Gerard insisted. “Don’t worry about me.”

“What is it that you’re having trouble with?” you wondered. “I mean, all you’re doing in that scene, is standing still up there, right?”

“Yeah, it shouldn’t be this hard,” Gerard frowned. “I don’t know….something about watching you plant one on Lukas, is just getting on my nerves.”

“Why’s that?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I….I don’t know,” Gerard blushed. “I just don’t want you touching him, for some reason.”

“You’re the one, who called me, and asked me to play this specific role,” you reminded him.

“I know I did,” Gerard acknowledged. “I just….I didn’t think it would bother me this much.”

“Why does it bother you?” you asked. “Like, what is it that goes through your head, when you see me do that?”

“I guess I feel…..jealous,” Gerard admitted shyly, dropping his voice, so only you would hear.

“.....Jealous?” you repeated, heart pounding. What was he saying?

Gerard’s whole face turned red, and he stared downwards, suddenly very interested in his shoes.

“....Gee,” you whispered, touching his arm. “Look at me...are you telling me, that you wish, I was kissing your cheek, instead?”

You two had been friends for almost a decade now, but he had never made a move on you, or given you any indication that he desired anything more, than a platonic relationship. But….the truth was, you’d always found him incredibly handsome.

Gerard’s hazel eyes glanced up, hesitantly meeting yours.

“As soon as I saw you walk out here, in that skirt,” Gerard confessed, his voice soft and husky, “I wanted to kiss you, on far more, than just your cheeks.”

“....You want to kiss me on the mouth?” you realized, your face and body going suddenly so hot.

“God help me, I do,” Gerard breathed.

“.....Do it,” you said breathlessly. Secretly, you’d wanted this, for years.

“But, there’s people all around us!” Gerard said shyly.

You looked up, and saw that he was right. Actors and actresses were starting to form a line around the table, eager to grab food to snack on.

“.....Come with me,” you said impulsively, and dragged him by the arm, into the powder room, where you’d gotten changed earlier.

“Y-Y/N, what are you doing?” Gerard stammered. “This is the girls’ room…..I’m not supposed to be in here….I don’t want to get caught….”

“Then be real quiet, then,” you shushed him, and pulled him in for a searing kiss.

His shyness seemed to melt away, as his lips crashed into yours. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tighter, as the kiss deepened.

“....Gee!” you gasped, coming up for air. You never saw this coming from him.

“Y/N, I want to make you mine,” Gerard panted, eager to taste your lips again. “Mine, and mine alone.”

You kissed him again. Your hands twisted into his newly short hair. You’d wanted this forever, but you never expected it to actually happen. He tasted so sweet, and his touch was so startlingly possessive.

“Honey,” you purred, grabbing him by his jacket collar, “I’m already yours.”

#gerard way x reader #gerard way imagine #gothtober

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oneletteredwondered · 4 years ago

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Odd

Logan's first day of public school.

Minor warning for some brief bullying.

Addams family au, based off this picture and au by @misplaced-my-notes hey ily.

The long black car pulls up to the blue gates of the public school. Children are running about all directions inside the property, yelling and screaming. Some are sitting on the dirty ground smacking their hands together in some strange ritualistic pattern. There are adults standing on the outskirts keeping careful watch in case someone gets hurt.

Logan stares out the window with his messenger bag over one shoulder. There's a notebook on his lap for the express purpose of taking notes on the other children. He twists his suit jacket in his hands.

Logan is not intimidated.

"Thank you for the ride, Thing," Logan says. The disembodied hand on the steering wheel scutters and turns to face him. It bounces once and raises a finger. Logan huffs.

"I am not nervous." He says, purposefully unclenching the hem of his jacket. Thing bounces twice. Logan deigns not to answer it.

He exits the car, taking a second to make sure his outfit is wrinkle free and shuts the door. He thanks Thing one more time through the open window and begins to make his way up to the blue gates. He has a pen in his notebook at the ready.

He's scribbling notes as he walks, peering over the top of his notebook at the other students. They are so different from him. It's to be expected when under the assumption they have been in public school for their whole lives while Logan has been home schooled for his.

His first observation is that the other students have more finite social skills, moving from person to person with a simple question but not taking the time to really get to know them. Base level acquaintances by definition but he hears the word friend be tossed around. None of them exhibit the requirements for 'friends' in his opinion.

"Question if I may," he approaches a group of girls in the sand. They look to each other then back at him. He marks down silent communication on his pad of paper to explore later.

"I observed you putting your hands together. What is the benefit to that?" He asks. The girls once again give each other looks that Logan can't decipher.

"You mean patty-cake?" One finally says. Logan writes that down.

"It's a game." Another says but this time the tone isn't nice or questioning, but bordering on rude. Logan finds them staring at him with creases near their eyes.

"What benefit does it serve?" He asks anyway.

"Do you not play games?" And then they are laughing and he doesn't know why. Logan is confused. He does not like being confused. Further more, he does play games. Just last week he and his Uncle Remus played how many light bulbs does it take to to short circuit his nervous system. 37. His brother Remy filmed the whole thing for their next family reunion.

It doesn't matter because the girls get up and walk away from him, one of them smacking his notebook to the dirt and laughing again. It's rude. Logan picks it up and shakes the dirt off. He feels a burning on his face.

A new feeling he is not a fan of.

A bell rings and Logan plainly follows the teachers rules to find his designated classroom.

He spends the next hour ignoring the teacher and detailing the interaction, trying to figure out the nuances of what he did to get the girls to act unkindly. He comes up with nothing, which is more frustrating than he cares to admit.

He spends the next hour after that arguing with the teacher about Christopher Columbus because they have wildly different accounts of what he did to the world. In the end, Logan has something called a detention and one of his classmates is crying because he talked about murder. He was simply trying to inform them of the truth.

Logan does not pout.

During the scheduled lunch period Logan spends the time alone at a table, writing notes about the hidden groups within groups at each table. It's not until the hour is almost up that he realizes the other children are whispering and looking at him, and it doesn't look nice either.

This is proven as when the period ends, someone snags his notebook, holding it over their head where Logan can't reach without looking undignified jumping for it.

"What are you writing about you weirdo?" They taunt. Logan just stands and stares at them. Without his notebook he begins to details his observations out loud.

"Taller male uses his height against others. Perhaps a tactic learned at home. Possibly used to try and seem more likable by his peers. Uses physical attributes as they are certainly lacking in the intellectual department." Logan places a hand to his chin in thought, circling the student who took his book. A small crowd of students forms around them.

"What did you just say to me?" They ask dumbly. Logan sighs.

"My apologies, I didn't realizes your critical thinking skills were so severely missing. I said you are not smart so you try to be liked by being stronger than others." The bully stares at Logan angrily. Logan stares back. Suddenly the bully shoves the notebook back into his hands.

"Mr Saga! He called me stupid!" The bully points a finger at him accusatory. Logan gapes.

"I did not! I called you severely lacking in intelligence. There’s a difference!"

"Mr Addams." An authoritative voice comes from behind him. Logan turns to see a teacher looking disapproving back at him.

"Come with me Mr Addams." They say. Logan follows plainly, turning to glare at the bully as they look smugly back at him. It's then that Logan realizes they planned their words and got Logan in trouble on purpose. How rude.

Logan writes that down.

He gets a small lecture from the teacher about how it's impolite to call someone stupid, which Logan clarifies, again, he did not, in fact, call any one stupid. The teacher just sighs.

"Since this is your first day and you're coming from being home schooled, I'll let you off with a warning, try to not let it happen again." Mr Saga says. Logan narrows his eyes but agrees for the time being.

He exits the classroom to find another student leaning against the walls beside the door. They perk up seeing him, waiting for him. They wear a flowy blue skirt and there's a white bow in their unruly curly hair. They give Logan a bright smile.

"Hi." They say first.

"Salutations." Logan says back. The other giggles and Logan isn't sure what they found funny.

"I just wanted to say I thought it was cool the way you stood up to Nate like that. He holds things over people's heads a lot." They inform him. Logan makes a note in his book as he walks, the other student falling in line with him.

"What are you writing down?" They ask. Logan studies them for a second, trying to figure out their motive. They just smile softly at him behind their round glasses.

"I am detailing the differences from being home schooled to those who have been in public schools." The other makes an 'oh' noise.

"Actually if I may, might I inquire some insight from you?" Logan stops in the middle of the hallway, his walking partner stops as well. They nod their head happily, swaying back and forth.

Logan details the conversation he had earlier with the girls in the sand, confusion apparent as he is unsure what he did to make them treat him like that. His new friend giggles again. It doesn't sound mean at all and a part of Logan wishes to detail the noise in his book.

"It's not uh, common, to ask questions like that, so they uh, probably, just acted mean cause they didn't know what else to do." Well. Even if they didn't sound sure, it's a better explanation than Logan could come up with. He details the theory in his book.

"My name's Patton by the way!" The student says. Logan holds out his hand. Patton blinks at it.

"Logan Addams," Logan introduces himself. Patton still hasn't shook his hand. Logan shifts awkwardly.

"It's polite to take my hand," he tries to explain. At that Patton grins wide and takes his hand. But he doesn't shake his hand proper, instead he squeezes it and doesn't let go.

Logan sputters and suddenly Patton is dragging him through the hall, telling Logan all about the strange slapping hand ritual from earlier. It's a game of some kind apparently, made for the pure fact to be fun and sometimes challenging with no purpose otherwise. Logan does his best to remember these details but Patton's hand is warm in his and it's very distracting.

Warm. Not like the burning of earlier where he felt sad and angry. This is soft warmth that makes him flustered and.. happy? Patton guides them to class, making some excuse about getting lost. The class laughs at their misfortune but Patton shrugs it off, so Logan figures it's best to do so as well.

He decides not to speak during class, writing and writing all the information Patton provided to him down. It's important for research, nothing else.

At the end of the day Patton is by his side again, walking him out the front gates and chatting aimlessly about seemingly nothing. They wait together for a while, cars moving in a line to pick up the kids. A long sleek black car is last in line.

"I'll see you tomorrow!" Patton calls, beginning to step away.

"Do you have a guardian coming to collect you?" Logan asks curiously not really wanting their conversation to end. Patton is.. willing to talk to him.. and provide valuable commentary. That's all. Patton shakes his head to the question.

"I live with my grandma just a few minutes from here, so I just walk home," he explains. Logan swallows a lump in his throat.

"Would you care for a ride home then? As thank you for being helpful to me today." He adds quickly. It doesn't stop Patton from beaming at him and that causes something downright strange to happen to Logan's stomach.

"Thanks Lolo," He says and Logan is so caught up in that something he's barely coherent when he opens the door to the car for Patton like a gentleman, and Patton screams.

"THERE'S A HAND!" He yelps, skittering to hide behind Logan and pointing over his shoulder into the car. Thing taps the wheel hard.

"Yes of course there's a hand." Logan says plainly.

"Its name is Thing, its my family's house keeper." Logan goes on, sliding into the car. Patton looks between Logan and Thing with very clear fear in his eyes. He slowly slides in beside Logan and closes the door.

"Can it.. uh, actually drive?" Patton's voice squeaks.

"He is the safest driver in our family." The car moves and Patton is frozen still and not talking as they pull out of the the school lot. He barely manages to give directions to his home. Logan isn't sure what happened. Patton was so.. cheerful a moment ago. Logan fiddles with the hem of his suit then reaches over to give Patton's hand a squeeze like Patton did for him earlier in the day.

Whatever it does, it works, as Patton begins to smile at him again and Logan finds himself smiling back, but just a little. Patton is relaxed by the time they pull up to a small cottage styled house.

"Thanks for the ride Logan, uh.. Thing?" Thing lifts a finger in a wave and Patton waves a finger back at it, a giggle slipping out. Logan ends up staring unable to look away. There's that noise again, the one that he wants to document and hold onto and hear again and again. What is wrong with him?

"See you tomorrow Logan," Patton says impossibly soft and he's looking at Logan so nicely and Logan manages a quick 'bye' and the door closes. Logan scoots to the window and watches as Patton enters his home.

Thing begins the drive back home. It taps the steering wheel.

"It was fine," Logan says curtly, hands crinkling his notebook on his lap. He thinks back over the day and he ends up warm again thinking about Patton and that strange thing happens to his stomach again.

Once home Logan wastes no time in heading to the moonroom in the back of the house. The sides of the room are all glass, but thick black curtains cover them while the sun is up, only opening when the moon is high in the sky. It's filled with plots of rose thorns, the petals and bulbs scattered all over the floor so when his parents waltz they swirl around them.

His father is there, wearing something long and black, a swirling shadow around his neck as he reads from a large tome with witch words written on the inside. There’s a pendant in his hand that sways as he walks the room. His skin is deathly pale and cold, but still manages to give comforting hugs when called for.

"Father," Logan says when he enters. The shadow thing around his father's shoulder puffs into nothingness and takes its rightful resting place under his father's eyes.

"Logan dear, how was your first day at the public school?" Virgil asks, taking a seat at one of the long tattered benches in the room. He pats the seat beside him and Logan goes to sit by him.

"I believe myself to be ill." Logan tells him plainly. Virgil gasps and goes to touch his forehead.

"Did one of the other school children give you a pox? Your Uncle Remus would love to experience it with you." Virgil says. Logan pushes his hand off. Holding his father's hand doesn't feel the same as holding Patton's he notices bitterly.

"I do not think any of them were sick to my knowledge but I am feeling.. Odd." He settles on. Virgil tsks sadly. When Logan had announced he wanted to attend the public school to study the other kids, Virgil had encouraged his brilliant mind.

His son confided that it's not that he didn't love his father's lessons on the occult or his padre's lessons with the sword, but this is an experiment all on it's own, one he got to do all on his own. Seeing his child so distraught about something they were so excited about is distressing.

Virgil looks up as his husband enters the room, giving him a pointed look towards their son. Roman flicks the ashes of his cigar into one of the potted plants and takes a seat on the other side of Logan.

"What ever is the matter son?" Roman asks. He takes one more puff of his cigar and tosses it. One of the plants jerk up to eat it. Virgil glares at him because they have discussed it's not healthy for the plants to be smoking yet.

Logan recounts his day for his parents, flipping through his notebook as he does. Virgil and Roman are attentive, nodding approvingly to Logan's banter with the teacher about the misinterpretation about Chris Columbus, and Roman laughs heartily when Logan explains how he never actually called someone stupid. He has way better insults that stupid anyway.

"And then Patton, he-" Logan cuts off his words with a pout, feeling that strange feeling again. Virgil plays with his hair comfortingly.

"Is Patton a good one or a bad one?" He asks.

"He's good." Logan says quickly. Roman raises his eyebrows at that. He and Virgil share a questioning look over Logan's head.

"He's good, but he- he makes me feel weird. He makes me feel sickly." Logan explains.

"Even though he's good?" Virgil asks. Logan nods but he doesn't look happy about it.

"He's sweet and kind and explained some of the social instances for me." Logan swallows hard.

"He makes my chest feel like it's constricting. Shortness of breath isn't healthy and while talking to him I almost stuttered which is concerning for my brain scan last week did not have any abnormalities." Logan had been upset about the lack of abnormalities, but now he's more upset cause if there were, then at least he'd have a working theory of the cause of this sudden feeling.

He's hugged on both sides by his parents and even though he's still confused it does make him feel slightly better.

"Maybe we should meet your new friend?" Roman asks. Logan stiffens, then nods. The word friend echoes in his head. Are he and Patton friends? It is something he is going to have to inquire about. He hops off the bench and heads to his room, finishing what little homework he has, then proceeding to electrocute his brother until his eyes are glowing blue.

And he takes time to think about Patton. He used a full page in his book to try and document his laugh. He feels odd for sure but not bad. He will have to conduct more experiments he decides, almost smiling at the idea of spending more time with his.. new friend, and the experiments of course.

"Ah, young love," Roman laments back in the moonroom. He takes Virgil's hand and kisses up his arm to his lips. Virgil allows the affection.

"He doesn't realize it yet though," Virgil chides. Roman just smirks at him.

"He will figure it out eventually. He takes after you in that regard." It's teasing and Virgil pushes him away and stands. Roman is quick on the upkeep, chasing to catch Virgil by the waist and pull him into a dip.

"You mustn't tell him," Virgil says hanging from Roman's arms. "You know how he gets when the answer is spoiled for him." Roman pulls Virgil back to standing, twirling him around the room, rose petals dancing at their feet.

"I have full confidence in our little mad scientist," Roman says with a dashing smile. Virgil returns it with a smirk.

"Just like you have full confidence with me?" He's teasing. Roman lights up.

"Is that a dare my darling?" He leans in. Virgil laughs dark and low, gripping Roman by the lapels of his white suit.

"It's a threat," he whispers against Roman's lips. A pleasant shiver runs through Roman as he kisses his husband quiet, knowing the feelings tormenting Logan will come to light all on their own.

And when Logan finally invites Patton over, and the soft boy screams at Virgil's pet spider, giving Athena the fear she deserves and hasn't had in such a long time, and Logan spends an hour comforting him, both Virgil and Roman decide Patton is good, and that Logan has made an excellent choice for a friend.

AN: So I wrote this and then after saw OP artist put Emile as Uncle Fester... so I'm claiming creative liberties with making Remus Uncle Fester because a) he and Roman are actual brothers and b) I love him.

#addams family au #logan sanders #patton sanders #logicality #prinxiety #roman sanders #virgil sanders #fic #my post

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keelywolfe · 4 years ago

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FIC: The Rose and the Thorn: Chapter 16 (Mafia AU)

Tags: Spicyhoney, Cherryberry, Mafia AU, Flower Shop AU, Violence, First Meetings

Warning: Lemon goodness!

~~*~~

Read Chapter 16 on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

As heated as Edge’s kisses were, the warmth dissipated quickly when Edge led him out of the green room. Standing outside the door was one of the Dog guards, his expression the same blandly impassive as they usually were and that was enough to set Rus firmly back into reality.

Rus stole a single glance at that furry, emotionless face before he looked away, a stupid blush rising in his cheekbones. He couldn’t help wondering if this Dog were part of the security team that had seen him dancing on the cameras, but there was no way in hell he was going to ask. Better to banish that idea from the ol’ memory place and move right on.

Maybe Edge felt sort of the same or maybe he was still feeling a little handsy after everything. Instead of leading the way, he slid an arm around Rus and guided him to walk beside him, settling a large, warm hand at the base of his spine like a sort of backwards leash. Edge was wearing gloves, but they weren’t much of a barrier and the light touch against his exposed vertebrae made Rus shiver.

This was…this was fine, and he trotted along beside him as quick as he could without outright running, partly to keep up with Edge’s long strides and partly because the floor was damn cold on his bare feet.

If there was one thing he’d learned from all this it was that sexy didn’t have much in common with comfort, and that was the truth.

The path they took was different from the one this morning and led to an elevator instead of stairs. Crowded into the lift, Rus didn’t think he’d ever felt more awkward in his life as he stood there between Edge and the Dog, tarted up in the clothes Mona chose for him like the shiny jam-filling between two claustrophobically oversized slices of bread. He practically darted out when the doors opened, waited only long enough for Edge to gather him up again, herding his lost sheep through the hallways.

Edge didn’t seem to feel the need for all the tricksy backwalking that the Dogs usually did and led a straightforward path around the corner to a door in the middle of the hall.

Rus blinked, confused. “this isn’t my room.”

He was pretty sure about that, anyway. All the doors were exactly the same and Red’s tricksy tricks made it hard to keep tabs on anything, but as confusing as the corridors were, Rus knew for sure that there was a wall sconce across from his room, not a painting. Probably both were rigged with spy cameras or microphones, angel knew what.

“It isn’t,” Edge agreed. A press of his hand against a panel opened up a familiar keypad and Edge tapped in a code, the numbers obscured from Rus’s view. “It’s mine. Your brother can wait a little longer to see you.” He slanted Rus a knowing look. “I’m gathering he didn’t take your chat about us very well.”

“not really.” Rus blinked hard against the sudden stinging in his sockets, trying not to think about the accusations Blue flung at him.

He followed Edge into the room, the same room as earlier, had it only been a few hours since he’d been sitting on that wide sofa, healing Edge from the burns whose marks were still faintly visible on his bones? This entire week was rushing by at lightspeed, so many things coming at him at once.

Earlier, he hadn’t gotten a very good impression of the room past ‘posh’, more than a little distracted by Edge being, you know, burnt up. Now as he was looking at it, the expensive vibe was still winning the race but there was a close second coming up from behind of…unimpressive.

Yeah, the sofas were huge and plushy, the bed frame and side tables ornate wood carved in curlicue designs. Oriental rugs lined the floor, decadent cushions and pillows carefully placed. What it really screamed was a lack of any personality whatsoever. Like it hadn’t been five minutes since a designer came in and did their thing, leaving it coldly uncluttered and stark.

There was no personality, no shoes half-kicked under the sofa, no books piling up on the nightstand with a glass of water for the midnight thirsties. The sofa was nice, but there wasn’t a single anomaly in the cushions, a slight indent that revealed which one was the favorite. Back home, their walls were covered with pictures, Blue loved photographs, and there were so many of them; from when they first came to the surface and those first six months that all Monsters spent in quarantine, pictures of them working in the garden, from the grand opening of the shop.

There was plenty of art here, all of it probably expensive, not that Rus knew the difference between museum quality and dentist waiting room, but not a single photograph, not even a family shot on the nightstand. Which, okay, a candid shot of Red staring at him all night wouldn’t give him sweet dreams, but that was Edge’s brother, not some psycho stranger who’d abducted him right off the street.

Even their current borrowed room had a touch of clutter after only two days. This one was so impersonal, utilitarian despite the implied comfort. There was nothing of Edge here, nothing whatsoever, as blank as an expensive hotel room. This was nothing more than the place Edge slept and dressed, it wasn’t a home, and that seemed so wrong.

His impromptu assessment short-circuited when Rus realized that Edge hadn’t paused to sit at the sofas. He walked past those cushy seats to the bed, toeing off his shoes and lining them up precisely next to it, then impatiently shoving the curtains back as he settled to lay on top of the plush comforter with a loud groan, clothes and all.

Rus hung back, unsure. If Edge was planning on going to sleep, did he expect Rus to lounge around his room and…what? There wasn’t a television that Rus could see, not so much as a paperback lying around, and Rus didn’t even have his phone to play a couple rounds of Candy Crush.

Before Rus could plop down on either of the sofas to spend some quality time twiddling his thumbs, one of Edge’s sockets cracked open to show a gleam of crimson, his unscarred brow bone rising pointedly as he held open an arm in invitation. “Come here.”

It wasn’t a question and not precisely a demand. More like an expectation and when Rus didn’t move, only shuffled his bare feet against the carpet undecidedly, that brow bone rose higher still. “I only want to hold you,” Edge said, “it’s been a very long day. Can’t you give me that much, flower shop?” One corner of his mouth lifted in that half-smile of his, settling at a near smirk, “Considering that I was getting ready for bed when I heard about your latest disappearance, I think you owe me that much.”

The last thing Rus wanted to get into was a conversation about debts, seriously. He had no idea which side was in the red anymore, but he knew which side Red was on and Rus wasn’t liking his odds. He still waffled, lingering back. “like i haven’t been losing sleep over you, asshole?” Rus muttered.

That half-smirk only widened, unoffended. “Well? Make a choice.”

Somehow, Rus didn’t think he only meant this bizarre version of snuggle time. He shuffled closer, slowly climbing onto the wide bed, crossing the plains of it like a damn wagon train heading to California. But his reluctance vanished by the time he settled cautiously against Edge’s side. He was big and warm, the spice of his cologne sharp in Rus’s nasal passage, and one arm looped around his back, a large hand settling to rest almost chastely on the upper curve of Rus’s hip.

Both of them were still fully clothed even if Rus was a little more exposed in his dance outfit, intimate without being intimidating. As much as he hated to admit it, it felt…nice. Safe.

Rus gave in and snuggled closer, settling his skull cautiously on Edge’s chest. Felt the rise and fall as he took a deep breath and let it out in a contented sigh. Edge’s arm tightening around him, his hand rubbing a gentle, soothing circle against Rus’s hip. There was a soft touch against the top of his skull, a kiss, coupled with a gust of warm breath.

As tired as he was, Rus found that he wasn’t anywhere close to drowsing off. His thoughts were still agitated, questions bouncing around on the inside of his skull. Without letting himself think too hard about it, Rus blurted the safest one. “how did you get involved in all this? the club, i mean. you know what i mean.”

Edge’s gloved fingers dragged an absent path up Rus’s spine, leaving a tingling trail behind them. “Hm? That’s a long story.”

Of course it was. “give me the reader’s digest version.”

He felt Edge smile against his temple. “All right.” For a long moment, he said nothing, only gently pet the many bones that Rus’s clothes left exposed, but if he was hoping to lull Rus to sleep without answering, that was off the table. Rus shifted restlessly and he finally spoke, slowly, as if selecting each word with care.

“There were four of us when we first came to the surface,” Edge said. With his head resting on Edge’s rib cage, Rus could hear the vibration of his deep voice from within his chest, the words coming in strange stereo. “My brother and myself, Blaze, and Gaster. I’ve known Blaze since I was a child and Gaster was…I suppose our godfather, that’s as good a word as any. He raised us and he was the one who set up this little empire, he started nearly the moment we stepped out into the sunshine. He gave the orders and we followed them, without question.”

Referring to someone as ‘was’, yeah, that was kind of a big hint, but Rus asked anyway, haltingly, “so...um. what happened to him?”

“He disappeared one night.”

“he left?”

“I don’t know,” Edge said, and something in his tone warned about asking any more questions about that, “He was simply gone. Red took over after that and we finished building up this place as a home base.”

Their godfather up and vanished one night and no one looked any deeper into that.

Yeah…

Rus was no Sherlock Holmes or even a Watson, but that seemed, oh, what was the word, really fucking suspicious?

Then again, like he had room to talk, their pop had done something pretty similar before they ever came to the surface. Went off to get drunk, same as always, and never came back. In his case, the whole town went looking and never found so much as a speck of dust; for all Rus knew, his pop was out there somewhere alive, maybe starring in an Underground music review with this Gaster guy.

He wondered if Edge had been scared when Gaster disappeared, like Rus had. Or if he’d been guiltily relieved that it was over, and he wouldn’t have to deal with all that shit again…like Rus had. But in their case, with one man down, that left three.

“and blaze?” Rus asked, cautiously.

“That’s an entirely different discussion.”

Hmph. “that wasn’t the reader’s digest version, that was barely a tik tok video,” Rus complained. “when do i get the long version?”

“You don’t,” Edge said, and the coolness of his voice belied the heat of his fingertips fondling their way back down Rus’s spine. They teased at the waistband of his pants, barely skirting beneath the fabric. “I told you once, I am a very bad person. I wouldn’t taint you by telling you all that I’ve done. All I can say is that for every deal with the devil we make, some good comes of it, and if the price of helping our people is my soul, I’ll gladly pay it.”

Difficult as it was, Rus shook off Edge’s hand, sitting up enough to scowl back down at him. “nice speech, but if you don’t want me knowing anything about you, where does that leave me?” Ignoring his inner voice shrieking that it was better to stay in the dark, safer, ignorance was the only path back home.

“Right here.” Edge rose up on one elbow, his other hand gentle on Rus’s chin as he leaned up for a kiss and, damn it, someday Rus wasn’t going to fall for this. Someday he wasn’t going to melt like a pat of butter on fresh toast at the heat of Edge’s mouth, the curl of a tongue against his own, gently coaxing. For a moment or so there was only that, a cautious meeting of mouths that slowly turned more insistent, parting for gasps of breath before hungrily meeting again.

The world seemed to spin suddenly, revolving, and then the mattress was soft beneath him. Rus dazedly realized Edge was above him now, knees nudging his legs apart as his heavy weight settled between his femurs.

Wait, Rus tried to say, the word catching in his throat as Edge abandoned his mouth to bite a delicate line along his jaw

“oh,” he whimpered aloud. He fumbled for words that skittered out of his reach, unsure if he even wanted to speak them. He couldn’t focus, his attention torn in a dozen directions; the pressure of Edge’s weight pushing him harder into the mattress, the tease of his mouth sucking at his mandible joint, and his hands never stopping, roaming over him from his skull to his hip, touching, coaxing, soaking him in pleasure so quickly. Too quickly, days’ worth of pent up desire shaking loose of their bonds to follow that touch.

Edge shifted against him and knee slid higher to press firmly at the join of Rus’s legs, rubbing at his pubic arch through the too-tight trousers. He cried out, a half-voiced whimper of protest twisted up with an almost alarming need. “wait…i…i don’t…”

“Shhhhhh,” Edge breathed. His mouth was searing hot against the side of Rus’s skull, crooning into his auditory canal. “Let me, pretty. My pretty little flower shop.” His hand slipped down into the cradle of Rus’s pelvis, not into the agitated swirl of magic gathering there, but tracing his ilium in an agonizing tease. He could hear the smile in Edge’s voice as he murmured, “You’re trembling.”

If he’d had a single wit still in his possession, Rus would have snapped out, ‘no shit!’. He could hear that he was trembling, the muted rattle of his bones as shivers wracked him. But mere thinking was far past his skills right now as that teasing touch suddenly became so much more pertinent, fingers gliding down to rub circles against his sacrum, a matching rhythm to the rocking pressure of his knee.

Rus nearly sobbed as he tried to arch up, struggling against Edge’s weight holding him down. He couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything, his breath panting harsh and the pulse of his soul so loud inside his skull he barely heard Edge whisper, crooning to him, a request and a demand as one, “Come for me.”

His knee pushed hard against his crotch at the same moment his fingers dipped down, fitting against the groove of his pubic symphysis, the rising wave of his pleasuring cresting with a garbled cry, “oh, oh, OH!”

His whole body quivered, carried along by sudden ecstasy and Rus could only whimper and let it take him. Shivering and choking out little cries even as he sagged weakly into the mattress, wrung out and undone.

Damp breath gusted against his temple in a fervent groan, “There. So beautiful, my beautiful flower.”

Rus only lay there gasping, limbs gone weak and limp. He squinched his sockets tightly closed and waited for Edge to strip away his pants, waited for a hand to take his own and guide it down to the hard shaft he’d felt pressed against him. Long moments passed and eventually, anticipation melted into confusion. Rus opened his sockets to see Edge still hunched over him, taking long, slow breaths to settle his aroused magic.

With a grimace, Edge rolled off him and the loss of his weight left Rus strangely bereft. He reached out unthinkingly.

“Don’t,” Edge gritted out. He caught hold of Rus’s hand before he could snatch it away, softened his words with a light kiss against his palm. “Not right now, not tonight.”

“oh, but,” Rus could only blink in dumb confusion, “why?”

“Because when I make love to you, you’ll spent the entire night in my bed.” Edge’s voice went lower, deep and dark, and a renewed flush of heat lit inside Rus, a kindling spark. “I want to be sure I can see your face when I make you come.”

A blush flamed across his face, burning hot, and Rus was almost ready to beg for that, even with little twinges of pleasure still lingering, but Edge’s smirk soured. “I don’t believe your brother would accept that tonight, I’ve been advised he’s anxious for your return.”

Been advised? How and by who? Reluctantly, Rus sat up, wondering if his trembling knees were even going to hold him. At least he could be grateful that his pants were black, it would hide the dampness he could feel between his legs. He really hoped they’d give the clothes a wash before taking them back to Mona.

Edge slid off the bed, frowning down at his wrinkled suit. He shed his jacket, tossing it on the bed and hey, his first piece of clutter, Rus could be a good influence yet. With a practiced yank, Edge untucked his shirt, pulling off the tie and loosening the top few buttons. It lent a casual appeal even as it exposed the lines of his collarbone, the slender bones oddly delicate on his large frame.

Great, he looked cool and casual, and Rus looked exactly like he’d just been rolling around in someone’s bed. That was a little more honest than Rus felt like being with his brother right now and maybe Edge agreed, because he disappeared behind a nearby door and when he came back out, he was carrying a shirt, a close match to the one he was already wearing.

He helped Rus slip it on and Rus couldn’t help a laugh at the way the sleeves fell far past his fingers. Between the two of them, they rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, Edge’s side neat and precise, and Rus’s a lopsided attempt. He stood like a child while Edge buttoned it and now shyness was creeping in, leaving him a little uncomfortable. He was grateful to be covered, his spine and ilia hidden behind the oversized shirt.

Rus bit back a yelp as Edge suddenly dropped down to crouch at his feet. He took hold of Rus’s bare foot with both hands, urging it to rest on his knee as Edge plucked loose the glittery ribbon still wound through his tibia and fibula.

Yeah, that was probably a good idea. The once-crisp bow was drooping sadly by now and it would surely bring up questions that Rus didn’t really want to answer. He honestly wasn’t sure if he wanted to speak to Blue at all and the urge to ask Edge to let him stay the night after all was strong. But this was his problem to deal with, not Edge’s and it wasn’t fair to ask him to step into the middle of it. Edge was already cobwebbed into the center of enough webs.

The rough feel of the ribbon gliding against his bones as it was pulled loose distracted him, making him shiver, his toes curling. He braced his hands against Edge’s shoulders, leaning against his solid support and it was a good thing he did because as soon as the ribbon fell away, Edge ducked his head to press a kiss against the newly sensitive bones.

“There.” Edge let go of his ankle and Rus set his foot back to the floor, trying to ignore the renewed wobbliness of his knees. “Let’s get you back to your brother.”

His sudden trepidation was harder to ignore but Rus managed, nodding and he said as firmly as he could. “Let’s go.”

The walk was a short one without the pretense, his room was only two turns down the corridors away. Rus hesitated in front of the closed door and turned back to Edge, looking up into his bright, crimson eye lights.

So much had happened that a simple good night seemed kinda pathetic. They were way past the conventions of a first date, hell, they’d skipped that part of the manual entirely. But there was a Dog standing on one side of their door as a guard and his brother was just inside, and Rus’s mind was a blank page.

Edge saved him with a brief, soft kiss, huh, saving seemed to be his personal kink and holy shit Rus did not just think that. He banished the thought, rising up on his toes to return that light kiss and sighing unhappily as Edge broke it and stepped back.

“It’ll be all right, flower shop,” Edge told him softly. Rus nodded stiffly and turned away. He took a steadying breath, squared his shoulders, and opened the door.

“blue?” Rus barely had time to close the door before a blur flew across the room and attached itself to his legs. He flailed back a step, only saved from falling to the floor by the door behind him.

“I’m sorry!” Blue blurted, “I’m so sorry, brother, I didn’t mean it.”

Rus blinked hard against the sudden well of hot tears, dropping down to his knees to pull his brother into a fierce hug. “it’s okay, bro.”

“It’s not,” Nearly a sob and already the front of Rus’s shirt was growing damp. “It’s not at all!”

That was probably truer than Rus wanted to admit. A hasty apology wasn’t going to heal his aching hurt at the memory of his brother’s accusations. But it was a start and he couldn’t bear to listen to his brother crying, not now.

“look, let’s just get some sleep, tomorrow we can have a long talk and i’ll tell you everything.” Rus hesitated, took a deep breath, and forced out, “I promise.”

He meant it. He was going to tell the entire story from the beginning and if it made his brother hate him, then so be it. Whatever else happened, the lies and hidden truths between them were going to end.

Blue nodded, his chin digging into Rus’s sternum, “All right. But it doesn’t matter, Papy, none of it matters except that you’re back.”

They sat there together, caught in a tight embrace, until the cold of the floor started to seep its way in. “bro, i love you,” Rus said ruefully, “but my ass could use a new seating arrangement.

“Language,” Blue said with a watery laugh. He let go then, turning away so briskly that Rus frowned, watching his brother bustle away. “Why don’t you go get changed into your pajamas, everything will seem better after some sleep.”

He kept his face turned away, not looking at Rus and that was more than a little strange. He was used to Blue looking him over like he was studying for a test. “bro?” Rus asked, hesitantly, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” That single word bordered on maniacally cheery and he kept turned away, angling his head oddly, and yeah, okay, they weren’t going to get out of one set of lies by diving into a new one. Exhausted as he was, it didn’t take much to sidestep into a shortcut and come out in front of his brother, catching sight of him before he could spin away.

“what the fuck!” Rus gasped. He grabbed Blue by the shoulders, ignoring his feeble resistance as he forced him to turn around. There was a darkened bruise running down the side of his brother’s face like the shadow of a bluejay’s wing, from his eye socket nearly to his chin.

“what happened?” Rus demanded. The unpleasant thought came that while he was fooling around in Edge’s bed, his brother was out here alone, no, not alone, someone hurt him, and the list of suspects was vanishingly short. “it was him wasn’t it, he-“ Rus broke off, too furious to speak. He was going to kill Red, he didn’t know how, but somehow he was going to dust that low-rent Scarface bastard for daring to hurt his brother.

“No!” Blue shook his head frantically. “It wasn’t him, I swear, I promise, it was…” Blue sighed, tiredly. “I did something stupid. It seems to be an ongoing trend these past few days. Please, little brother, I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

Dirty pool, that, tacking the ‘little’ onto brother.

“okay,” Rus agreed, slowly. “but we’re talking about everything tomorrow.”

“Deal,” Blue hurried over to gather up Rus’s pajamas, practically thrusting them into his arms. “Now let’s get some sleep.”

Blue was trying to sound reasonable and it mostly worked. The endless flood of exhaustion was rising up over the sandbags and Rus was ready to get some sleep.

He went to the bathroom to wash up, trying to ignore the way his pants still felt uncomfortably damp at the crotch, a match to the tearstained front of his shirt. But it was an absent glance in the bathroom mirror that had him blushing up to his browbone.

Unbeknownst to him, he had a new bruise of his own, vivid against the pale bone of his jaw. It couldn’t be called anything but a hickey and there wasn’t a single chance Blue missed seeing it.

He’d seen it and hadn’t asked, not a single question about that or Rus’s sudden change of clothes and his obviously borrowed shirt.

Looked like neither of them were talking about their fresh bruises, not that that was anything new. Not talking about things seemed to be their current state of being; shouting, yes, avoiding, got it, but no talking, not really. Tomorrow was going to change that, Rus decided firmly, for better or worse.

Rus sighed and stepped into the shower, washing away the long day with hot water and heavenly scented soap. This place might smell like a choir of angels, he thought sourly, but the sulfur was sure starting to creep in.

~~*~~

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #mafia AU

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twiceblackvelvet · 4 years ago

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Walk It Out

A/N; i have no idea what inspired this but it made me very sad then happy and then sad again. apparently the way i cope in life is to write about jeti. anyway, enjoy.

New York Fashion Week. The epitome of hell if you ask Tiffany. People rushing around everywhere, bloggers furiously typing up reviews on their phone and all for some clothing that is not practical for everyday living whatsoever. If she could skip out on attending, she definitely would. However, it’s become the norm for her to be invited to such events and they always get approved without her being offered a choice in the matter.

Weaving through traffic with only a few minutes left until she’s due to walk into the venue, her manager tries his best to reassure her that they’ll make it there on time. It may be a pain to sit through these shows, but showing up late is simply unacceptable. The majority of the best seats are usually reserved for celebrities with reporters and the like sprinkled in among them, however, if she doesn’t get there soon it’s likely her place will have been taken by one of the many hungry photographers desperate to get closer to the runway to make sure their shots are perfect. Not that she’d mind being stuck toward the back, but, things can be spun so negatively nowadays on the internet that it’ll be seen as her no-showing rather than just not being in her assigned seat.

Between the hours on end it took to get ready because of course, appearance is everything and the thousands of cabs that have decided to suddenly line the streets when Tiffany desperately needs them to be clear, she ends up being the last to walk into the venue where infamous fashion label Yves Saint Laurent is showcasing their latest collection. There are still photographers eagerly snapping pictures outside and even a few fans call out to her as she darts inside, apologizing with every single step that she can’t stop and greet them all. She promises to do so after the show.

There are arrows and people ready to guide any late stragglers inside luckily. She’s pushed before a large backdrop with the brand’s logo for a few quick pictures before being hurried along inside the darkened room with an enormous runway positioned in the center. To say the place is filled would be an understatement. People are crammed together, photographers huddled over each other, yet, the celebrity tables remain untouched and away from the people actually working and not just here to sit and look pretty.

A small woman with blonde hair begins to lead her to her assigned seat, though, Tiffany already knows it’s likely taken. As they get closer, she can see that someone with long brown hair is already seated at the table, though her back is the only thing in sight, she can tell that whoever it is, looks expensive based on the way they are perched on their seat and the clothing they’ve decided upon.

“Here you go.” The guide speaks, her voice barely audible over the people bustling around the room.

However, it seems that the person she’ll spending her afternoon seated beside managed to hear it also as they turn to face the direction of the voice. In one swift movement, Tiffany is met with a sight she never dreamt of seeing in a thousand years and definitely not in a situation like this.

“There must be a mistake.” Tiffany tries to inform the blonde woman, however, she’s already turned and waltzed off to likely guide another late attendant.

“No mistake. Your name is on the card. Don’t worry, I’m just as surprised as you are.”

Truthfully, Tiffany knew that Jessica would be attending this particular show. She had read the various articles that fans had flooded her Twitter mentions with and proclaiming that they hope for the two of them to interact. But, she didn’t think it would actually happen and would not vote to be seated beside her if she had the choice. Whoever decided the seating plan must hate both of them to pull a stunt like this.

For a second too long, Tiffany takes in Jessica’s appearance. Half out of curiosity the other half out of self-consciously comparing herself to her. Fans had done it for so long after Jessica left the group and she took over the majority of her lines in their songs that it’s become an unfortunate habit she’s picked up to think about just how she fares against her once upon a time friend. Her skin is without a single flaw which is intimidating alone, though she seems to be slightly more slender since the last time they saw each other. Which, Tiffany thinks, could have ended up being the last time ever if it weren’t for today.

“Are you going to stop staring at me and sit down? Or do the people behind us need to watch the show around you?” Jessica’s tone is without malice, though her words still seem harsh to Tiffany’s ears which have become unaccustomed to hearing it.

“Do you think that’s a good idea? I probably shouldn’t even be stood here beside you.” She answers, finally.

“Well, you already are. You may as well sit. What harm could it do?”

Oh, Tiffany can think of a lot of harm it could cause if even one person within this room snaps a picture of them seated beside each other so casually as if the distance and lack of interaction between them for the last few years doesn’t exist. Which, they definitely will capture it. It will go viral. They both will be hounded for hours or even days on end about it. Yet, for some unfathomable reason, she does place herself beside Jessica and ignores the consequences her current actions will have. After all, it’s going to spice up what will undoubtedly be a boring experience for her.

“Thank you,” Jessica states flatly. Her eyes avoid Tiffany’s completely though it’s clear she’s deep in thought. “I suppose we’re both going to have to explain this after we leave.”

“Well, yes. I can’t imagine people will just ignore us being together, here, and sitting mere inches apart.”

“No, they won’t.”

The conversation, if you can call it that, comes to a dull end just as the lights dim further ready for the show to start. Out of the corner of her eye, Tiffany can see that every few seconds, Jessica will spare her a glance looking over her entirely and then tries her best to focus on the show. Her fingers tapping gently against her forearm anxiously as if she’s ready to burst from having to be in her presence.

Several models make their way down the runway, every outfit growing more flamboyant as the show goes on. Tiffany thinks about how this is Jessica’s dream and how deep down inside, she’s glad that she’s working towards it, though she won’t be telling her that anytime soon.

The show comes to a pause halfway through to allow the designers to speak briefly. Tiffany takes this as an opportunity to try and talk to the woman beside her once more.

“I can move if it’s bothering you that much,” Tiffany whispers as to not disturb the person on stage speaking.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.”

“Well, I am,” Jessica shuffles in her seat with every word. “I just wasn’t expecting this.”

“You didn’t see the articles?” Tiffany asks her voice louder than previously which gains the attention of the people seated in front of them. She mouths an apology and turns back towards Jessica.

“I saw them. I just figured you’d either no-show or that we’d be on the opposite end of the room to each other.”

As the two women continue to size each other up, neither of them knowing where this reunion of sorts will lead them. A photographer kneels in front of their table face lined with an insincere smile that barely raises his cheeks.

“Ladies, photo?” He asks both of them, politer than either was expecting.

“No, thank you.” Jessica offers for both of them curtly. “We’re not here together.”

“Come on, it’s one photo, surely you can spare me that?” He begs voice lacking politeness and replaced with eagerness.

“I said no.”

“Okay.”

They both answer at the same time and the man decides to only listen to Tiffany’s acceptance of his offer and not Jessica’s denial. He quickly grabs the camera around his neck and points it towards them. They both plaster on faux smiles for the quick picture but Jessica’s ears have begun to turn a bright red. If steam could come out of them, it would have filled the entire room.

“Thanks.” The man shuffles off almost tripping over his own feet, likely thinking about just how much he’ll make from managing to get a picture of the two of them together.

“Why did you say yes? Are you insane?” Jessica’s voice is definitely harsh this time, in fact, it’s flat out filled with anger.

“I don’t know, seemed like an easy way to get rid of him.”

Though she doesn’t say it with words, Tiffany can tell that she’s managed to worm her way out of going against Jessica and that she can’t find a way to fight her reason for allowing someone to no doubt reveal that they’re sitting beside each other today and communicating for the first time in years.

The designers finish up their speeches and once again people storm the runway. Jessica tries her best to remain focused on the show. Tiffany tries her best to remove her focus from Jessica. Neither of them is successful. Luckily, the music accompanying the models walking drowns out their conversation.

“You look well.” Jessica offers first. Tiffany thinks about how difficult it must have been for her to offer the first compliment and decides it’s probably best to reciprocate it even if she’s unsure Jessica will trust her words.

“You do too. Though, you always did.”

It’s difficult to say whether it’s the lighting or not but Tiffany is sure she can see a light blush rising on Jessica’s fair skin.

“I don’t know what to say to that. Or to you, in fact,” They both look at each other but avert their eyes once the staring becomes a little too awkward.

“Me either.”

Jessica ponders on her next words carefully, unsure of whether she should speak it out into the world or allow it to remain inside her head to never be heard by anyone else but herself. Her voice, however, disobeys her insecurity and releases her innermost thoughts.

“I… I missed you.” Her voice cracks slightly as she barely stutters the words out but they manage to hit the intended target. “I mean that. I know that it probably just seems like I’m only saying it because we’ve both ended up here but truly, I missed you.”

Tiffany decides that her eyes must focus on the plethora of women walking upon the stage instead of the one currently threatening to make tears spill from her eyes with her words. Jessica was always described by others as a cold person, yet, there’s nothing but warmth in her words despite them mourning what was once a strong bond and unbreakable friendship that was left in tatters.

Her heart wrenches in her chest when she eventually does turn towards Jessica as she’s picking up her black clutch bag from the table and standing to leave. Out of instinct she grasps hold of her wrist and forces her back down into her seat. A camera click can be heard in their vicinity but Tiffany doesn’t care if the whole world is to witness this moment, she can’t let Jessica leave without telling her that she has felt incomplete since her departure from their group.

“Stay, please.” Jessica does exactly that, though not by choice as she’s placed back into her seat by force. “I missed you too. Things weren’t the same for any of us once you were gone. I know that might seem ridiculous to say since we’re all at fault one way or another for everything, but, something was always missing whenever it was just the eight of us.”

“I figured. I watched a few clips of you guys,” Jessica laughs lightly before continuing. “Is it bad that I always pictured myself in any gaps whenever you were all on stage? Or in photos and stuff?”

“No. Not at all. I used to think sometimes they’d do it on purpose so fans could photoshop you in,” They both laugh in unison, something neither would have guessed would be happening upon Tiffany’s first arrival at Jessica’s table. “I still get tagged on Instagram in pictures of us two.”

“Me too.”

Their eyes meet briefly as the laughter comes to a halt but the air around them feels less like it’s bubbling with tension and more like they’ve just resolved an undeclared war neither wanted to participate in.

“So, where do we go from here?” Tiffany cautiously asks.

“When that photo gets out, I’m not sure we’ll be able to continue this stalemate of ignoring the existence of each other anymore.”

The lights suddenly brighten up the room and both women realize they’ve missed the entire exhibition. However, fixing their issues seems far more important than some hideous blouses. Although, Tiffany is unsure if Jessica will agree as she notices the small scrunching of her eyebrows. They both stand now, though the crowd around them makes it impossible for them to leave yet as they shuffle forward slowly.

“What are we going to say about that by the way?” Tiffany stops Jessica dead in their tracks this time to try and strategize their next move.

“Don’t ask me, you’re the one who agreed to it,” Jessica initially brushes off. “Let’s refuse to acknowledge it and say it was our doppelgangers, that’ll work.”

“Very funny Sica.” The shortened version of her name rolling off the tongue naturally.

Jessica twists Tiffany’s body to face her own so as she can talk in a hushed voice without anyone else around them overhearing her.

“Look, we have two options. We buy the photo before we leave, it never gets mentioned and we go about our lives as if this didn’t happen,” Tiffany tries her best not to seem hurt by this choice. “Or, we let them release it and we tell the world that there are no issues between us. It’s up to you.”

Tiffany’s thoughts flash through her mind at a thousand miles an hour. Could she really deal with all of the questions about Jessica that she’s done her best to get out of neutrally over the years again? How will the other members feel about this sudden appearance of Jessica beside her looking as friendly as possible? Can she go back to ignoring Jessica and forgetting that she’s just admitted to missing her? The choice seems obvious and yet she’s conflicted between them.

Jessica proceeds to walk toward the strange photographer having taken Tiffany’s silence as the answer is the former. But once again, Tiffany manages to pull her back and stops her from erasing their reunion from existence.

“Stop. I can’t just forget you again Jessica.”

For what feels like forever since she’d last seen it, Jessica finally grants Tiffany a smile that feels sincere. They stand stuck in place for several moments simply taking each other in. Neither wants to move out of fear that this was all just a fever dream and when they do things will go back to neither knowing one another anymore. Jessica moves first, though, it’s not what Tiffany expects as small arms wrap tightly around her neck and remain there.

Many people passing by them stare, but Tiffany doesn’t care. Jessica could hug her for the rest of her life and it wouldn’t feel long enough. When it does come to an end, they decide to exchange numbers and agree to keep in contact with one another from here on out. They part upon reaching the doors to the lobby and agree to exit separately so as not to cause the fans still lingering outside to pass out.

Jessica turns in place before she pushes the doors open to leave.

“Hey, Tiffany,” She simply nods in response. “I can still hit those notes better than you though.” Jessica flips her hair as she strides out of the door and away from Tiffany whose jaw is agape but she can’t help but laugh at Jessica still making things a competition between them even now.

Maybe fashion week isn’t so boring after all.

#snsd #girl group scenarios #kpop #kpop scenarios #snsd scenarios #jessica jung #tiffany young #snsd tiffany #snsd jessica #jung sooyeon #girls generation #girl group imagines #girl group reactions #snsd imagines #snsd reactions #jeti #kpop imagines #kpop reactions #jessica x tiffany

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nana-n-nono · 3 years ago

Text

Starborn

cw: mentions of death, mild injury, fire, lmk what else

SBB says: This thing is gigantic and got completely out of hand (at a word count of 7726 oh my god) but I hope you like it anyways and find some interesting lore points! Please do yell at me in the ask box! I'll try to have Jeno's up in less time but honestly it probably won't come out until end of August just before the event ends anyways lol.

They say in Soladium that being born is as instantaneous and explosive as a supernova. Jaemin always thought that was a bit odd, considering supernovas only occur when stars die. There's never an explanation either, when he asks. It's always, you'll understand when you're older.

According to the history books, the kingdom of Soladium was birthed the same way. It appeared entirely overnight. One day there was barren land under twin suns that were far too hot for life, the next a single sun and a brilliant realm built of white gold and molten lava. People questioned of course. Where did the second sun go? How did they do this? The first king answered none of these, instead going forth to conquer surrounding realms with swift and deadly force. These realms were by no means small either, the ancient lands of Tonitrua and Beongae being some of the lands razed. Soladium was fearfully hailed as a kingdom built in a single lunar cycle and as an empire built nearly as fast.

Now, those days seem like only stories, exaggerations from history. Memory is imperfect in that way. But Jaemin, and really every royal of Soladium, knows they're real. Knows that Soladium on the surface may seem like a cheerful, festive kingdom built on the foundations of honesty and sincerity, but that it lives on a foundation of bloodshed and deceit. It's hard to reconcile at times. You would look at someone like Jaemin and think, how can he be lethal?

True, Jaemin does not look particularly deadly. He's tall but he's not broad like his brother, nor does he seem clever like his sister. Often people will whisper that Jaemin was raised as a carefree child and that his parents spoiled him despite his status as the second prince, the second heir to the throne. Jaemin's inclined to agree with them to some degree, he was spoiled and he is carefree. But like everything in Soladium, that which is bright is built on something dark. And he is no exception to that rule.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Concentrate. Feel the heat around you. Feel it rise, heat always rises. Feel the intensity, that life breathes into—

"Your highness?"

Jaemin's head snaps up, a pure deer in the headlights look on his face as he's startled out of his training. The messenger sighs to themselves, fondly of course. It's well know that the second prince will get wrapped up in anything, and that he needs to be reminded of his other duties. But no one has the heart to tell him to stop, not when he looks so excited when he succeeds. Not when he looks so absorbed, eyes locked into whatever he’s studying when he’s concentrating. Jaemin clears his throat. “Yes?”

“I apologize for the disturbance, but your mother is requesting your presence in the courtyard.” The messenger sweeps into a bow and then straightens up, opening the door. Ah, so then it’s an immediate summons. The prince sighs, getting up and dusting off his trousers. Casual wear for the day, stuff he can run in since he had morning training with the weapons master. He nods to the messenger to lead the way, following closely behind. What could mother be summoning him for?

Even before entering the courtyard, Jaemin could sense his mother. Not through heat sensing, though he could do a bit of that as well, but rather through sheer presence. The queen was a formidable woman, even by Petramus standards. Tall, regal with a hard set jaw and narrow eyes. She was terrifying, at first glance. But underneath all that was a woman who based her strength in kindness, someone who was never afraid to stand up for justice and happiness. She didn’t back down on anything, didn’t back down from anyone. Though Soladium was a patriarchal society, the queen stood on equal ground as her beloved the king, and Jaemin admired that so.

The ideal behind marrying a Petramus princess to a Soladium prince was to form political alliances, of course, but also to try and instill a new set of values in the children of their union. Soladium’s undying determination and pride, Petramus’s stone cold analytics and cleverness. But it seemed there was still some way to go, with the first prince falling more into Soladium’s habits while the first princess fell into Petramus. Jaemin, it seemed, sort of fell into neither. An oddball.

As soon as Jaemin steps into the courtyard, the quiet chattering ceases and the queen turns with a beautiful smile. "My baby," she coos, reaching her arms out from where she sat. Jaemin immediately steps into her embrace, pressing a kiss to her temple as she does to his.

“Mother.” The queen gestures to her side to the empty space reserved for him. The bench is quite small, especially considering the size of the queen’s skirts that flare out but Jaemin still manages to sit down without accidentally sitting on the silken fabrics. “What is it?”

“My baby,” she repeats, but it’s different. A touch sadder. Jaemin leans into her touch when she cups his face with one hand, thumb caressing his cheekbone. "Oh, my precious Jaemin-ah."

He stays quiet, unsure what to say. What to ask. There have been few times in his life that his mother has taken this tone. When his grandfather died. When he was so ill they thought he may not survive. This tone is always accompanied by the pain of loss, potential or real.

"As you know," she starts softly, "You'll be fifteen soon." Between when he sat and when she began speaking, all the servants had stepped away to the edge of the courtyard, leaving only the two of them. Jaemin nods. Of course he knows, it's his own birthday for one but for two it's his Blessed day, so the entire court has been preparing for this. His birthday is happening in only a few days, but the planning for festivities has been so much longer. Months of color design, decor placement, outfit tailoring, inviting foreign royals. Of course Jaemin knows.

He also knows that Blesseddays are special. They're secretive and sacred but after a Blessed day, people change. They grow into themselves, whatever that mean for them. For Jaemin's older brother that meant becoming more confident and bold, bordering brutally honest with every passing day. Jaemin's older sister embraced her innovative spirit, devoting all her time to strategy and intelligence. That wasn't to say they weren't those things before their Blessed days, but after... It was like they'd been shocked into realizing their life purpose or something. It was, frankly, a bit terrifying for a young Jaemin. And just a bit lonely, though he'd never admit that.

Jaemin doesn't know what any of that has to do with the queen calling him today though. The way it works is that three days before the day of celebration, the person in question (Jaemin in this case) is brought somewhere (of course he doesn't know where yet) by the last person in the immediate family who had their Blessed days (Jaemin's sister in this case). Then they undergo some kind of ritual for the three days and emerge on their birthday to undergo a more public ritual. The public one is more for appearances than anything else, but it's an important ending to the whole process. The only part the queen needs to play is in the public ritual so... What's the whole point of this?

She doesn't say anything for a while, for a time that seems to stretch on and on though it's likely no more than a few minutes. Jaemin has his father's eyes but his mother's smile. A smile, no matter how small, is always the warmest thing in a room. A smile that embodies Soladium, as he's been told again and again. He offers this smile to her now, as reassuring as he can.

"I just wanted to see you," she says finally. Some part of Jaemin is confused and maybe a little disappointed. This seemed like something so serious and yet...? But he just smiles wider and tilts his head in her touch, childlike despite no longer being a child. Young, but not a child. That just seems to make her sadder, though she still smiles and boops his nose with her free hand like she did when he was a toddler. "You'll always be my baby, okay? No matter what, you'll always be my baby."

Jaemin really doesn't get it, maybe this is a nostalgia for him growing up? Still, he nods and replies, "Yes mother."

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Jaemin is awoken just as the sun begins to peak out from over the mountain tops. The break of dawn, three days before his birthday as promised. His sister, dressed in white robes with simple gold trimming herds him out of his room, ushering him into a bath first before dragging him down the hall, down the stairs, down down down. Jaemin has never been this far down. Jaemin hasn't seen another living soul since he woke up either, not in the bath, not in the halls. No knights, servants, gardeners... no one. His skin prickles at the loss of heat.

He's dressed in grandeur unlike his sister. A white shirt of satin, hand sewn with thread that is so fine and delicate it looks more like it was woven into the shirt rather than sewn in. Gems embellish the hems on the sleeves, the bottom of the shirt, the collar. And then simple slim fit trousers, in the same fashion except with some extra curling embroidery creeping up his legs. For once, he looks every bit the prince he's meant to be. And yet he feels so vulnerable, the satin unusually light and thin.

"Jaemin." His sister stops at the base of the stairs. How long have they been walking while he got caught up in his thoughts? A long ways down if the endlessly spiraling stairs above him have anything to say. It's entirely pitch black down here too, not a single light in sight. Jaemin only knows to turn to his sister by sound, by instinct. By...

Oh.

He inhales sharply. When he was first introduced to the idea of heat signatures, Jaemin was confused. Which was unusual, because nearly every living person in Soladium can pick up on heat signatures one way or another. But Jaemin had no idea what they were talking about. He was a rare case, someone who could not innately tell where heat was coming from. So they trained him from the beginning, and now he's made enough progress that if he concentrates, he can pick up strong heat signatures. But only strong ones. His sister's is not very strong, but what she's standing next to...

It's blinding. It's so, so very bright and Jaemin wants to take a step back. Something they teach you about sensing heat is to avoid things that are too hot. Most things will not fall in that range. Certainly not humans, at their internal 37°C count. Not even boiling water at 100°C. The limits alter per person but the general consensus is to cap out around 300°C. Some of the more talented individual can push it to 500°C. But this... Jaemin feels like his skin is melting, his throat is closing up, his eyes--

"Jaemin," his sister says softly. And just like that, he's back in darkness, gasping as he collapses onto the cool stone floor. For a few minutes, there's just the sound of Jaemin's wheezing. Deep breath in, hold, breathe out. Do it again.

"I won't be going any further with you. For the next three days, you'll be here alone. This place has everything you need, food, clothes, water, baths. Anytime during those days, you need to confront it. It doesn't need to be now, and it doesn't need to be in the last hour. But you must. If you don't..." She sounds so far away, echoing softer and softer. Jaemin wants to call to her, but he can't. He still can't breathe. Everything is unsteady. It's too dark, completely and utterly dark, and yet he still feels light fading around the edges of his non-existent vision. "Be brave Jaemin." A pause, so short it might not be a pause at all really. And then infinitely softer, so soft that he can barely catch it. "Until last light."

——————————————————————————————————————————————

When his eyes open again, Jaemin is 100% sure he's awake and yet it doesn't feel like it at all. Right. All consuming darkness. How Jaemin didn't break his neck walking down somehow eludes him, he's always been clumsy. He slowly gets up, but his body isn't stiff as expected. The stone beneath him is hard and cold, and yet he feels like he's just slept on the softest, warmest bed in the whole world. He rubs his eyes to try get some sensation out of them, but. It's just dark. If he strains his eyes to see then it'll definitely hurt him later. So instead he closes them, to try and trick his brain a little.

He doesn't really want to stand with how his legs gave out earlier... Earlier? How long has it been since his sister brought him down? God he doesn't know at all. He's not hungry though, so maybe it hasn't been that long. He stretches his legs, wiggling his toes and by the feeling of it, he might be okay to stand in a few minutes. But for now he just keeps stretching, slowly but surely waking up every part of his body.

After he feels enough blood in his limbs, he stands and though he wobbles a bit, he's stable enough to not fall over. He'll take that win. He doesn't recall at all what this area even looks like, so he just takes a step in a direction. There's faint heat signatures around, but most of them are near muted completely. Not entirely bizarre since Jaemin doesn't have a good track record of heat tracking anyways, but definitely inconvenient. He wants to squint but-- oh wait. His eyes are closed. After a momentary battle of what to do, he settles for scrunching up his nose and stepping towards a cluster of signatures, small ones. When he feels around them, he thinks ah okay, so this is food. It's simple stuff really, bread rolls, some fruits, a block of cheese. Probably? It feels like that anyways.

To its left are something that feels definitely like clothes, though he has no idea what kind. They’re soft though, so it probably doesn’t really matter. Who’s going to see him anyways in all this?

Somewhere further left is a kind of hallway that Jaemin finds by feeling along the walls. There at the end, the heat signature rises to a more normal view. A hot spring maybe? It’s close to that if it’s not. A slight misstep confirms it though, and Jaemin, disgruntled, hauls himself out sopping wet.

After changing into some dry clothes, he finishes cataloging (which isn't much, just a lot of soaps and an actual bed) and then sits on the floor to just... Ponder. His sister said he needed to face it, but what is it? His own weaknesses? And then there was that bright light. He's fairly certain that it had to be a hallucination or something. After all, if he saw it after being in the dark for so long, wouldn't he go blind? Or... Is he blind? No way... Except there's no way to tell because even with his eyes open, the darkness is as thick as ever. Fear sinks into his blood, cold as ice. But he shakes his head, it can't be. It can't be.

He stretches himself out on the bed, apprehension still crawling on his skin when he settles. There's a lot to consider here. So, Jaemin thinks, let's take it step by step.

First: Jaemin must complete some kind of task during these three days. His sister mentioned it doesn't matter when, only that he do it. Caveat? He has no idea how time is passing here.

Second: There are faint heat signatures all around but they're muted, even the hot spring that should be very bright. Could the mysterious light have something to do with that?

Third: What happens if he doesn't complete the task?

Third: What happens if

Third: What

Jaemin blinks, suddenly dizzy in his attempt to sit up. It's as though the bed is pulling him down, coaxing him to rest his head and close his eyes and let go of this thoughts. Oh, he thinks as he sinks back down. Maybe it's been a day already. Maybe it's night now. There's no reason for him to be sleepy though, he thinks even as he yawns. After all, doesn't that mean he was asleep on the floor longer than expected...?

——————————————————————————————————————————————

"Jaemin-ah!"

He turns, blinking. It's not dark anymore. Not at all. In fact it's very bright, so much so that Jaemin should be squinting against the shine. And yet he isn't, instead slowly twisting around with a growing smile. He knows that voice anywhere.

"Jeno!" And there in full view is Lunaste's only prince, eyes crinkled in their usual moon crescents. Jeno looks good as always, wearing a tighter fitting formal shirt tucked into newly tailored dark pants. On his ears sparkle the mark of an heir, small gem from Lunaste's mines. They're a shimmering dark blue, not unlike the night sky before the sun fully sets down. Jaemin half runs over to hug his best friend, reveling in the clean and cool feeling that Jeno always gives off.

"What, did you miss me that much?" Jeno laughs, squeezing Jaemin just as tightly. "C'mon, let's go sit. It's been ages since I last saw you."

Jaemin genuinely has no idea where they are but Jeno seems to know it well, so the younger boy just follows behind with a spring in his step. They don't walk long, just enough that Jaemin gets a bit whiny to Jeno's endless amusement. "Jenooooooo--"

"Shush you big baby, we're almost there." Jaemin's pout does nothing but make Jeno smile wider, tugging them both along until they're suddenly in some kind of clearing. A huge meadow? Jaemin's never seen it before, in either Soladium or Lunaste. But he just accepts it, trusting Jeno. The older boy takes them to a patch of grass that's mostly clear of flowers, laying down first and gesturing for Jaemin to join. It's nice out here, a light breeze ruffling the grass and the suns not too bright. Wait. The suns?

"Jaemin-ah." Jeno's voice sounds so far away. Jaemin looks to his side, and yet there's no one there. He sits up, looking around but Jeno's no where to be found. The meadow is still there though... As is a plume of smoke, slowly encircling the edges of the horizon. "Jaemin!" The boy scrambles to his feet, heart racing as he hears his best friend yell. "Jaemin!!"

"Jeno?" Jaemin yells back, eyes widening in horror at the smoke approaches. And where there's smoke, there's fire. The meadow's burning up. And Jeno... Is nowhere to be found.

"Jaemin you have to run!" Jeno's voice sounds more strangled, like he can't breathe. Did he get caught somewhere?

"Jeno! Jeno where are you!" Jaemin coughs as the smoke starts to crowd where he is, ash falling onto his skin and burning him just like real fire. There's no where to go though. Even as Jaemin turns, he's confronted with more smoke, more fire. "Jeno!"

"Jaemin you--" The rest cuts out, the flames roaring too loudly. Jaemin swallows dryly, crouching down to the floor. What can he do? He's going to be completely surrounded soon. There's no where to go--

"JUMP!!"

Jaemin's eyes snap open at the feeling of a hand on his elbow hauling him up. Jeno??? He's scuffed up, scratches and blooming bruises across his cheek and on his hands. Jaemin hesitates, mind racing too fast to comprehend but Jeno whips around with his eyes blazing. "Jaemin trust me. You have to jump." Jump where? The solar prince looks down and oh. There's a hole, about two times his width. It seems to go straight down, just down down down endlessly. Jaemin's logical brain doesn't understand, but his instincts do. And his gut trusts Jeno.

So he jumps.

Down

down

down.

Jaemin gasps, hands clenched tight in the sheets as his eyes fly open. Where is he? Why is it dark? Is he underground, is this--

His voice is barely above a whisper. "Jeno?"

Silence stretches endlessly, swallowing his soft call.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Jaemin doesn't really dream. Or at least he never remembers his dreams, so this is really unusual and quite frankly very unpleasant. He'd taken a long bath right after waking up, wincing at the sensation of hot on his skin but settling in after anyways. He's awake now, definitely.

The dream... Well, maybe nightmare would be more appropriate. Jaemin shudders thinking about how vivid it was, how he still feels his throat closing up at the vague thought of ash. Soladium residents have some heat resistance, sure, but that sensation was... Like being surrounded by...

The sun.

Jaemin blinks, understanding slowly coming through. The sun! But wait... Wasn't that just a legend? Two suns? One shot down--

No. It was never fully explained what happened to it. Jaemin just assumed it was shot down as part of the story, but in fact... What if it wasn't?

This is crazy. Jaemin, you're nuts. You're losing it. And yet in his heart he knows he's right. Something about this ritual has to do with the sun. The second one that vanished without a trace the day that Soladium was established.

You need to confront it. It. Not yourself, not them, but it. A non-human entity.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Jaemin spends the rest of the day not thinking. Honestly his head hurts, waking up with a hammering heart and a confused brain was not been a great way to start the day. And then all that thinking immediately after in the bath... Yeah, Jaemin's calling it for day 2. He still has at least 24 more hours in day three. And then... Does he technically have part of his birthday? Maybe?

He spends the day nibbling on apples and cheese and crackers. Another thing, the food is always prepared in easily eaten bites. Apples are sliced, sometimes peeled. The cheese is always cubed. Weird. Magic isn't really prevalent in Soladium, not really. The only thing really would be their heat control. Even the heat sensing doesn't seem that magical, more a byproduct of adaptation to the landscape. But there's definitely something magical about this whole thing. It's a bit unsettling.

Like the previous night, Jaemin starts to feel the pull of bed at some point, probably around the peak of the lunar cycle. He yawns as he settles down, curling up on his side and falling asleep.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

It smells like earth. Like damp earth. Jaemin doesn't hate it, but he's not the fondest fan either. Rainy days are nice, and he like them just fine, but they're not his favorite. That's just how it is. But he likes them when he can be with Jeno, then it's fun. Running around with Jeno chasing him is fun. Spending the day inside talking over snacks is fun. Finding new hiding places and cozying up is fun.

"Jaemin-ah."

"Jeno-yah."

Jeno's always been there. Jeno is reliable, like how the lunar cycle always follows and leads into a solar cycle. They may be princes of different realms, but somehow they're still best friends. Constant letters, excuses to visit. Sometimes the queen dowager of Lunaste will whisper to the reigning queen of Soladium, ah they're kindred souls.

"Jeno, I'm scared." It should feel scary to even admit that and yet it doesn't. It just comes out. Jaemin still has no idea where he is, has no idea where Jeno it. Everything's blurry, like he's looking at it through some thick frosted glass. But Jeno's there, he knows it.

Jeno doesn't ask why. Doesn't say that it's going to be fine. Instead he says, "But are you going to let it stop you?"

Jaemin almost wants to say yes. It's infinitely scary to think that perhaps the thing he has to face is what he thinks it is. But it's infinitely more terrifying to think that if he fails, he might never be able to see the people he loves again. After all, no one knows the cost of failure for the ritual, only that if you fail you don't come back the same. Or at all sometimes.

"No," he says instead. "No, this is something I have to do. To move forward." To be with everyone, with you.

Jeno smiles and Jaemin feels a warm hand over his own. "That's right. It's something you have to do."

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Jaemin takes a deep breath. He hasn't tried to heat sense much outside of what's necessary, but even then he's gotten so familiar with the space he doesn't need the sensing to tell him where everything is. But he has a feeling he should try again, maybe it'll show him what's there.

Sitting in the center (or what he thinks is center) of the room, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

Concentrate. Feel the heat around you. Feel it rise, heat always rises. Feel the intensity, that life breathes into objects. Take a deep breathe in, do you feel the warmth in the air around you? Stretch your senses out, feel for the things around you. Exhale slowly, do you sense the warmth of your own breath, your own life?

Slowly but surely the heat signatures return, muted as they were before. Jaemin furrows his brow, hands clenched into tight fists that rest over his knees, legs crossed in front. He can feel that prickling on the back of his neck, warm across his back. He peeks open his eyes a little at a time, seeing heat wrap around in wisps. The signatures of the ordinary objects have all but disappeared. The only one left is the one seemingly behind him, emitting curls of heat that flutter around the room before vanishing. It's much too bright to be the bath.

He doesn't turn around immediately, he'd be a fool if he did that. "I'm not sure if you can speak, but I..." He pauses, unsure how to say what he wants to. In the end, he settles for a simple, "But I'm ready." Jaemin squeezes his eyes shut again as the light starts to flash, brighter and brighter until the entire room is engulfed in white.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

The first thing Jaemin registers is screaming. A mix of voices, adults and children, men and women. Incoherent, though he picks up a few repeated words. Run! Hurry!

He's afraid to open his eyes, but he forces himself to and it's definitely not within the castle. It doesn't even seem to be a dreamscape, with how vivid everything is. Jaemin finds himself in the center of a jostling crowd, everyone seeming to sprint in the same direction. He turns to what they're fleeing from and...

He sees the lion emblem of Soladium. He sees gleaming gold breastplates over white chainmail. He sees a soldier slam his sword into someone who is fleeing, and watches as red stains the pristine silver metal.

Jaemin's going to throw up.

"Nana! Nana what are you doing standing there? You have to run!" What? What the hell, how can this be? It's Jeno, but he's... Younger. A lot younger. Is Jaemin that young too? Only seven, maybe eight? And how can Jeno be here, he's not a resident of Soladium. But wait, is this Soladium? Or...? "NANA!" Jaemin feels himself being yanked along the stream of people.

"Je- Nono, what's going on?" Jaemin can barely keep on his feet, tripping over himself often. Jeno's hand pulling is the only thing keeping him upright. "Nono, wha--"

"There's no time, we need to get out of--" There's a fuzzy sound, not unlike TV static.

"What??? Out of where? Where are we??" Jeno's younger look alike looks at Jaemin like he's crazy. He repeats the word, but again it's just static. Jaemin's really losing it. Jeno twists down an alley, escaping from the crowd but still moving. It's a little like going down the stairs with his sister, Jeno just keeps taking him down and down and down. At some point they enter some kind of tunnel, barely big enough for them. Jaemin has to crouch a little as he walks.

It's dark.

"Nono?" Jaemin can still feel his touch on his wrist, but he can't see him and Jeno doesn't answer. After what seems to be hours but could be minutes, they stop.

"Nana." The voice speaking is soft, a blend of an older sounding man and a young boy. "Nana, I'm gonna go ahead okay? Wait for me here?"

"Y-yeah," Jaemin-- Nana-- says quietly. "Come back soon?"

"Always."

And then Jaemin is alone.

For minutes. Then hours. Maybe a day has passed. He doesn't know, he hasn't moved. A voice inside whispers ever so faintly, maybe he won't come back. But Jaemin believes in his best friend, or this person who looks like his best friend. So he waits.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

"Jaemin?" He blinks, yawning. When did he fall asleep? Is he still in the tunnel? He can't be, it's too light out. The air is too fresh. Jaemin snaps awake, scrambling up. He nearly headbutts the person above him, who rears back just in time to avoid breaking their nose. "Jesus!"

"Wh-- Where am I? What time is it?" Jaemin tries to calm himself down, taking stock of what's around him. It's some sort of courtyard like area, but there are people everywhere. In the same clothes. Yellow blazer coats and black pants, white button up shirts. A uniform?

"You're at school and it's twelve thirty." Jaemin snaps his head to the side to look at Jeno, who's rubbing his nose lightly. "Damn, I think you actually nicked me a little with that iron head of yours."

"Jen?"

"Huh?" Jeno stops touching his face and Jaemin almost wants to cry at the sight of his best friend. Jeno from Lunaste has near perfect pale skin, his mole stark against it. Jeno-- Nono-- from wherever had the youthful tan of carefree boy. This Jeno looks just like he'd expect a teenager to, skin a bit pocket marked from acne scars, uneven redness all over, more freckles and moles. But it's Jeno, it's definitely Jeno. Jaemin really is going to start crying. “Jaem what’s wrong?”

Shit is he crying? Like for real? Ugh, gods that’s embarrassing. He shakes his head, pressing his sleeves to his eyes and heaving a breath. “It’s nothing Jen,” he mumbles. At least it’s just light sniffles and not full blown sobbing. That would be hard to justify. “Just tired and yknow how it is.” Why’s he talking like this? Maybe it’s just a tic of this Jaemin.

“Ah.” Sweet, understanding Jeno, who never questions when he doesn’t need to. “Yeah that assignment was pretty rough, I was going to strangle Hyunseok when he almost deleted our files. Here.” Oh a handkerchief. It’s just like Jeno to be a little old fashioned like that. Jaemin takes another minute to collect himself, stuffing the cloth into his pocket.

For a minute it’s just quiet and peaceful. A light breeze drifts across, ruffling the grass and just barely shifting Jaemin’s bangs. This is nice, yeah. Jaemin leans back on his palms and tilts his head up. It’s warm.

“So Jaem, I was asking about Friday? Cause I know you said you had student council stuff—” does he? “and you know how caught up you get when Donghyuck slacks off.”

Jaemin doesn’t even have to think about it for a second. “I’ll make time for you.” He always will. But of course he can’t say that part here, this isn’t his Jeno even if the beaming, crescent eyed smile he gets looks so familiar.

“You’re the best Jaem!” Jeno grabs a bag and slings it over his shoulder, offering a hand out to Jaemin. “Thanks for always being there for me.”

“Yeah,” Jaemin says with a smile so genuine it hurts his cheeks. “Of course Jen, always.”

——————————————————————————————————————————————

How much more must he go through? Somehow it feels a little like he’s been through countless iterations, countless universes. Him as a gangster, Jeno as the innocent bystander. Jeno as a celebrity, him as a devoted fan. Sometimes it’s Jaemin who is cruel and heartless, sometimes it’s Jeno who’s broken and hurting. And yet always the same, Jaemin and Jeno, Jeno and Jaemin. Tied together, always faithful to the other. Not once does Jaemin regrets getting shot at, getting strangled, getting screamed at if it means he can protect Jeno. He never regrets stealing or lying or smashing things if it mean staying with his best friend. Always, he thinks as he fades out of yet another life. I will always be there for you.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

“Sir.” Jaemin turns to see a squire, stiff in their naivety. “King Jeno has requested your presence.” The mere words send shivers throughout his skin, but he nods and dismisses the boy before spinning on his heel.

King Jeno is every bit as regal as Jaemin knew he would be. Midnight black hair coiffed just so under his crown of silver and white gold, dark sapphires embedded as accents. His expression is cold, something Jaemin himself has only seen once in his fifteen years. Somehow he suspects this version of himself has seen it far more often. Jeno looks almost bored, but his voice simmers with anger. “Na Jaemin.” Jaemin swallows but keeps his head bowed where he kneels. He hears a kind of clicking, not loud enough to be shoes but certainly loud enough to be a threat. Jeno’s rings most likely.

“Report.”

Jaemin still doesn’t raise his head as he speaks. In his memories, there are too many blood splatters to ignore. “The Southern Isles have refused to relinquish their control over the pass, they say that… that they won’t unless their demands are met.”

“And what are their demands?” The temperature seems to drop another ten degrees. Jaemin doesn’t want to say it, but he know when Jeno sounds sickly sweet like that… there’s no room for arguments.

“They’ve demanded that their prince be returned to them, no matter what. And that… and that you be removed from power your majesty.” There’s more of course, but those are minor compared to this. Jaemin knows that the Southern prince with caramel skin and a halo of golden curls is alive, but perhaps not for much longer. He prays he’s wrong, but he’s known Jeno for far too long.

For too long there is silence. Jaemin is almost shivering with how tense he’s gotten with every passing second. And then Jeno laughs, a soft chuckle that is so icy, so unlike his own Jeno, that Jaemin almost wants to curl in on himself and scream because it’s wrong. It blows into full, body shaking laughter and Jaemin can’t help flinching when he feels rather than sees or hears Jeno come close. A cold hand tilts his chin up and he meets Jeno’s eyes. Dark, black not brown.

“Is that so,” Jeno says softly. Jaemin doesn’t try anything funny. Jeno’s technically unarmed now, there’s no one else around. Just them. Jaemin could so easily overpower the King if he tried. Jeno isn’t special here, he can’t predict what will happen. And they’ve always been equal in strength. Jaemin could end it all, save the people from war. But he doesn’t. Not that he can’t, he doesn’t. Because this is Jeno, who he chose. “Na Jaemin, what are you?”

“I am your right hand, your majesty. Your shield and your spear to command as you see fit.” A practiced answer that spills as easily as oil over ice.

“Yes, that’s right,” Jeno coos, tapping Jaemin’s cheek. Has Jeno ever been this cold? Physically or otherwise? “You do as I ask.” Jaemin’s heart is hammering so hard he’s surprised Jeno can’t hear it. “And now I ask of you this.” Jeno leans in close, voice a sly whisper. “Kill the prince and send his mangled remains to them. They want to make demands of us? Of me? No. Jaemin-ah, show them who we are.”

Kill. In all the universes, Jaemin has killed before. But this is the first time he’s been asked to by someone he loves. The first time he’s been asked to kill someone he cares about.

Show them who we are. We, Jaemin and Jeno. Jeno and Jaemin.

Jaemin swallows and whispers back, “As you wish, your majesty.” And later, when he’s in the dungeons with a far familiar face glaring at him, spitting insults at him, when he raises his sword high and brings it down with all his force, all he can think is that he promised he would never turn his back on Jeno, no matter what.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

It’s quiet after he plunges the tip into the southern prince’s chest and Jaemin welcomes it. A brief respite between universes, somewhere he can rest. These breaks never last long, some hardly over a minute or two. Jaemin closes his eyes and waits, waits for the next universe to wake him up somehow. But instead he hears a voice, one that echoes like thousands of voices speaking at once.

Have you made your choice?

Jaemin blinks slowly and then stumbles back. Oh, so he’s in a corporeal form for this. Okay. It should be burning hot and blindingly bright, given that he’s staring directly at a sun. Neither sensations occur though and he tentatively steps forward again.

My choice?

The sun rumbles.

Yes. Your choice on your will.

My will?

Yes. That which makes you strong and that which makes you weak.

Oh…

You must decide now. Your will is what you are, but you may choose another way. Be warned child, your will is the strongest and weakest you will ever be. Your other cores may save you from those extremes, but you will never fully involve yourself in your fate. You may end up simply drifting along, always feeling away from yourself.

I don’t want that.

Most do not. However it is an option.

Can I… Can I ask a question?

Of course child.

Why was it always Jeno?

I cannot answer that.

What? Why?

It is simply not my place to do so. I can only answer questions about you.

Was it something I chose?

Yes. In a way.

…

In the last one. Why didn’t I stop him? Would I… would I do that in real life?

That I cannot tell you. I can only show you what could be, given the strength of your will.

What is my will?

Do you not know? Hm... A pause, as if the entity is pondering how best to answer this. You, Na Jaemin, third child of King Na Seomin and Queen Lee Minyoung, are destined to be the strongest ally. Your loyalty knows no bounds. Once you have chosen a person or a cause to dedicate yourself to, you will do so endlessly. Without question, without fear. Regardless of who you might hurt to achieve the goals they've asked of you. Regardless of what might be taken away. You will do what is asked, if that person is who you've chosen. That is your will.

That doesn't sound very good...

A will is neither good nor bad. It is, like everything, something that is altered based on what you choose.

…

It seems you’ve made up your mind.

Yeah. But one more question. Who are you? All of you?

Ahh, but you already know this do you not?

Just checking.

The entity chuckles. Are you ready to make your choice?

“Yeah,” Jaemin says with a smile. “Yeah I am.”

——————————————————————————————————————————————

“… Min”

Huh?

“Jae… min…”

Oh that’s his name.

“JAEMIN!”

“Gods above what!” Jaemin snaps as he opens his eyes, annoyance vanishing in an instant at the sight of Jeno’s tear streaked face. Actually, looking around, everyone was in various states of distress. His mother had her hands over her mouth, silent sobs wracking her shoulders as she leaned against his father who was pale but wearing an expression of pained pride. “Wh-why are you all crying??”

Jeno’s face contorts in a way that would be funny if not for the fresh wave of tears dripping down his cheeks. “You were gone for so long, I thought— we thought—”

“Gone?” Jaemin echoes, brows knitting together as he tries to piece it together. It must be his birthday right? The ritual shouldn’t last longer than that.

"You— you were— Gods Jaemin," Jeno hiccups, hands wrapped tightly around Jaemin's in his lap. "You were gone, you were—" Jeno can't finish it, instead sobbing again and releasing Jaemin's hands to pull him into a tight hug. Jaemin automatically raise his arms to wrap around Jeno's shaking shoulders, neck getting uncomfortably wet with tears. Jaemin turns slightly to his parents for clarification.

"You were dead, Jaemin," his mother says in a broken but somehow calm voice. She was just sobbing a second ago, how has she collected herself so quickly?

Dead? He was... dead?

"Your h-heart wasn't beating," Jeno cries, "A-and you weren't breathing and— Jaemin. I thought, we thought—"

Oh.

"What... What day is it?"

"It's the day after your birthday."

After?

No wonder... There's never been someone who didn't complete the ritual after their Blessed day. He... Wow.

"I came in," his sister says with an odd detachment, "on the dawn of your birthday. Like I was supposed to. And you, you were just laying there and gods..." Her voice cracks. "You were just laying there and you were so cold."

"When I saw Jaehee in her ceremony, she was sitting there like she was dead too. But she was warm when I touched her, and she opened her eyes immediately. And I saw— I saw the sun in her eyes so I knew. But you," Jaehyuk swallows. "You just didn't. We tried to look but it really was like you were dead Min, your eyes were so empty."

Jaemin squeezes his best friend tighter, throat closing up. "B-but I, I just accepted it like noona said to?"

"Accepted? Jaemin, I said confront. What do you mean accept?"

"Huh?"

"Jaemin-ah," his father says now. "When you meet the second sun, you should have seen yourself in different scenarios." Jaemin nods, that he did. "And you should have always made the same choices." Again, he nods. "And then the final scenario is the hardest, it's the one where you choose. And then you wake up."

"You, you didn't talk to anyone?"

"What?" No one seems to understand. Not even his father. "You spoke to someone? Do you mean in the final judgement?"

"No! No, I mean... After. After I made—" Jaemin shudders at the memory. "After I chose, I spoke to someone. To it."

"You..." Jaemin's sister was always the clever one in the family. "You spoke to it?"

"To them, yeah."

"THEM??"

"Gods them! Yes!" Jaemin reels back, earning himself a yelp from Jeno who gets tugged along. "Them. The second sun isn't just a sun. It's, it's our ancestors."

"WHAT," Jaehee shrieks, lurching forward as if to grab Jaemin's collar to demand what he knows. Ah, so this is what they meant when they said strongest and weakest. Her thirst for knowledge, her willingness to do anything to get it. How similar it is to his steadfast devotion.

"Stop that!" Jaehyuk hauls her back. "Stop, you're scaring him."

Jaemin's... Not scared. But he doesn't understand. "So none of you have spoken to them?" He's met with three mirrored head shakes. "Wow..."

"So what happened then?" His mother asks, the voice of calm despite how frazzled she looks. Jaemin's never seen her like this, pajamas underneath a coat, hair undone. His heart swells at the sight, at how much she loves him.

"They asked me to make my choice. They uh, they told me what my will was and how it might be... hurtful." And they mentioned something else but that's for Jaemin's ears only.

"That's it?" Ah ever shrewd, his sister.

"Yes."

"Why does it matter," comes a muffled whine. Oh shit, Jeno. Jaemin reels back but is held in place by his best friend. "He's not dead, he passed your stupid test. Isn't that enough?"

Evidently not for everyone but no one seems to want to challenge the Lunaste prince. It makes Jaemin wonder what happened when he was dead.

"We should give Jaemin some time to rest." His mother is the first to collect herself, standing and lightly dusting off her skirts. His father is quick to follow, always one to support his wife. "Jaemin-ah, although it's late, happy Blessed day." Jaemin hears the proud, unspoken happy birthday my baby.

Jeno stays behind though, unwilling to let his best friend out of sight. Jaemin understands it, he would be the same. For a while it's just quiet, Jeno clutching onto Jaemin and trying really hard, it seems, to not cry again. And it's like at that sight, Jaemin loses all his strength and pitches forward, pressing his face into Jeno's neck and mumbling, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry Jen, I'm so so so sorry."

Jeno just pulls him in closer and buries his own face into Jaemin's neck. Jaemin will pretend that they're not both shaking, even though there's no one to pretend to. Cause it's Jeno.

"Don't you ever do that to me again," Jeno whispers fiercely, voice thicker and more ragged than usual. "Na Jaemin I swear I will pull you back just to kill you myself."

Jaemin laughs at that, shaking his head. "I won't. I'll never leave you Jen."

"Don't promise things you can't keep," Jeno sighs back. But Jaemin knows, feels it hot in his chest, that this is one promise he's never going to break. Not even on his life.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Notes:

- A lunar cycle is just one night. The only special time terms are solar cycle/lunar cycle instead of day/night. If it's a week, it's still called a week.

- While this event states that Jaemin/Jeno have only recently discovered they are princes, this blurb is slightly separated from that. This blurb is set in the full AU but is twisted slightly to fit the bot, thus both Jaemin and Jeno have been princes from birth. So just, don't think about it too hard?

- Inspiration: Stars are born from nebulas in which the gas and stardust in the nebulous cloud begins to collapse in on themselves from the gravitational pull. Stardust is from the death of other stars. This got a little out of hand but those various scenarios Jaemin goes through are like his own lives and deaths, so when he dies in them or when he kills in them, they "piece" together to form his will which is his strongest trait. Jaemin's a unique case where he always chose the same thing. Often people will kind of alternate their choices and whatever is strongest/gets picked the most often becomes their will.

- In the final dream sequence, Nana is Jaemin's ancestor. Naming conventions differ in the past, children would receive a nickname (Nana) and then once they became adults they would receive their formal name (Jaeyoon). In Jaemin's current timeline, you receive the name you live with when you're born. So when Jaemin was born, he was named Na Jaemin and that's just it. I can explain it more if it's confusing. Really I just wanted an excuse to make a Nana and a Jaem compared to Jaemin, yknow?

- The final dream sequence serves as the final judgement by the second sun. It weighs more heavily than others with higher emotional stakes. The reason why people lean into their attributes so heavily is because of this last scenario. In their minds, they have already played through everything that could be and will not deviate from their choices. Thus people of Soladium are considered rigid and stubborn.

- The second sun doesn't always choose to enhance positive attributes. Though Jaemin and his siblings received (in order) loyalty, cleverness and determination, others in Soladium history have received things like ruthlessness, deception and fear. Generally speaking, what attribute is chosen is what the individual's core value is, and has a lot to do with nature vs nurture.

- Don't @ me about plot holes lmao

#celestial royals event #lore.txt

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butterbeeryuta · 5 years ago

Text

warning: smut content

‘Thank you so much Yuta, I really appreciate it’ you said, stepping in his hotel room as you tightly held on your clothes, ensuring your undies (yes, undies) won’t fall off as you head towards the bathroom.

‘No, don’t worry it’s fine. Did you call the reception though? We’ll be here for the next 5 days so maybe it’d be best to ask.’ I turned my head towards him, taking a slight step back at his appearance. God, why is he so pretty? His dark hark lightly draped over his doe eyes, enhancing his tanned skin as he slightly tilted his head to the side, making him more ethereal than he already did. At the same time, he looked so comfortable and soft. His oversized shirt and his beautiful smile certainly did not help me, considering I was planning to use his bathroom where I will be naked... and he will be outside. I hope it will be fine. I hope.

'Oh, y-yeah. I called them 3 hours ago, and they did say that they'll help me. But that was 3 hours ago.' I quickly said, mentally scolding myself for looking at the man... in a very specific way that we shall not talk about. I excused myself to the bathroom quickly before he could say anything about my flustered state. What was going on with me?

'Hey thanks for letting me shower, Yuta. Though not gonna lie, their shampoo sucks so I guess it'd be better if we buy one from the convenience store later instead.' I said, drying my hair with the crappy towel provided by the hotel.

...

Why is he not responding?

I lifted my head, only to see the man to be looking at my state. OH.

'I swear I'm wearing shorts underneath this long ass shirt, I swear I'm not trying to do anything inappropriate' I immediately covered my mouth the moment I rambled, internally hating myself for being a mess. Yuta's eyes quickly looked back to my embarrassed state, clearly unsure of how to respond from looking at his face.

'Oh yeah, no the shampoos here do suck. We can get them tomorrow after we come back from the lingerie store. And u-uh, yeah no you're fine. Pants can be uncomfortable so I--'

'I am wearing shorts, you pathogen'

'Pathogen?'

'A disease causing organism? You know like a virus or bacteria--'

'Yes, I know what a pathogen is. But why?' He asks, furrowing his eyebrows. Oh boy. I giggled instead, making myself look more like an idiot.

'I give interesting names to people. But no bad intentions of course. Anyway! I was thinking we can maybe start designing and coming up with fabric choices for the new blush collection?' I asked, hoping to divert away from why I called him a pathogen.

'Uh yeah sure.' He awkwardly replies, taking a seat on his bed.

Why am I so dumb?

---------------------------------------------

'So I was thinking that we can maybe use a mix of cotton, lace, and silk so that it can be both comfortable and stylish. And we have a good connection with one of the cotton production companies in Seoul, so financially speaking, we really shouldn't have that big of a problem.' I said, sketching a few designs on the digital tablet.

'I feel that the design should depend on the fabric. We don't really want something innocent-looking with lace do we?' He says, pushing up his glasses to see the drawing a little more clearly. 'Like this one, this seems pretty innocent and for people to feel, I guess submissive? The design will nonetheless make people feel baby-ish, so we should maybe stick to either cotton or a mix of cotton and silk.' I looked at the design he was pointing at; it was a simple and plain lingerie set that was in nude pink.

'I don't know about you, but I think you are allowed to feel whatever you want when you wear anything. You don't necessarily have to feel submissive or baby-ish when you wear simple or plain lingerie. And besides, lace can also give off that innocent vibe as well. For this design specifically, how 'bout we keep the base as cotton, and have white lace covering both the bra and undies?' I suggested as I drew the lace material on the sketch. And for the second time, he was silent.

'Did I say anything wrong?' I asked, putting the tablet down. Yuta looked hesitant at first, which could easily be observed from the way he was biting his lip and avoiding eye contact with me. After a few seconds of silence, Yuta sighed, finally looking at me.

'No, not at all. It just amazes me how hard-working and open-minded you are. I still feel sorta like trash when I came into the company, thinking I was one of the best employees. That was of course until I met you. So yeah, it's just an eye-opener for me I guess' he said, scratching the back of his head. It took me a while to comprehend whatever he said, but I was affirmative of the fact that he said something nice.

'Well I do not know about you, but I do not think you're trash. You fucking cried with me about climate change— that's some wild ass shit to do. You may have been a dick in the beginning for insulting my outfit and doing what you wanted to do before listening to the company's motto and beliefs, but that's all okay now. You're not really trash Yuta. You're maybe... recyclable?' He laughed softly at my last comment, making me feel somewhat relieved that he did not take my last comment seriously. But as per the rest, I definitely meant it. Yeah, I did not like him at first, but he has gotten so much better and is surely way more tolerable than he was before. As our laughter died down, our eyes slowly met each others. Oh my fucking god am I gonna f-word? Y/n get your shit together, and can you please stop being a chaotic meme for once in your life, and actually be serious or at least civil—

Before I could potentially embarrass myself for the 40th time, Yuta's hands reached up for my face, gently holding it in both of his palms. 'Can I kiss you?' He asks, eyes glimmering as he waited for my response. I nodded at him, his lips moving forward, eventually closing the gap between us. My hands unconsciously reached up to the back of his neck, pushing him closer to me as we continued to kiss. His hands slowly left my face, dragging them down to my waist as he gently lifts my body on his, intensifying the moment. I pulled apart, breathing heavily, dark, lust-filled eyes staring at one another, completely unsure of whether or not to take it to the next step.

‘Do you want to do this?’ He asks, thumbing the sides of my waist. Probably looking like a complete idiot, I nodded at him immediately, only to earn a cocky smirk from the fashion graduate. He reached down to tug them hem of his shirt over his head, only to reveal his toned upper body. Before I could stare and most likely drool, he leaned down to meet my lips again as his hand slowly made its way inside my oversized tee, reaching up for my bare breast. His long fingers took the hardened nipple, gently playing with it only to earn low moans from me. Yuta broke the kiss, and trailed kisses along the side of my neck as he continued to toy with the nipple.

‘D-do something please’ I whimpered, hips unconsciously meeting his, yearning for more of his touch. I could feel his lips smiling against my neck, his hands slowly dragging down my stomach, slowly slipping into the band of my shorts, making contact with the sensitive nub through the fabric of my underwear. Soft moans escaped my mouth without even realising, my hands immediately covering my mouth from embarrassment. Why are you like this y/n?

Yuta's lips left my neck, his breath fanning over my hands as his hands continued to rub my clit. 'Please don't cover your moans' he says breathily as his lust-filled eyes looks down at my vulnerable state. My hands slowly left my mouth as low whimpers and moans escaped as his hands continued to work. The pressure against my clit gradually increased, the speed of his fingers slowly increasing as well.

'F-fuck Yuta' I whimpered, hips furiously grinding up in the air to meet the sweet release. As if Yuta knew what was about to come, he inserted one finger in my velvety walls as his thumb continuously stimulated the sensitive nub. He placed his head beside my ear whispering, 'cum for me princess.' Just like that, a rush of pleasure ran through my body, the immensity taking control of my body as his fingers slowed down. The gorgeous Japanese man chuckled at my fucked out state, and my eyes caught a slight smile on his face before my eyes shut its eyes closed.

Laces and Things

crack, fluff, and smut corporate au; lingerie designers!yuta x fem reader

taglist: @neocitytevhno @mapleeleafmark @thealexalcala @my-chaos-in-stars @cscarletred @lavellanfriendliness @boinkhs

part 12 / masterlist

171 notes · View notes

fuckedurbias · 5 years ago

Text

two piece - johnny seo

genre: fluffy!!! v slight?? angst towards the end

requested? yes!

word count: 1.3k

warnings: apart from a lot of soft!johnny that could endanger ur heart,, nothing hehe

It was another long day, time was passing by so slow and all you could think about was how much you were dreading the long train ride and bus ride home. All you wanted to do was collapse onto your warm bed and sleep for 10 hours or even better, 4 months because that’s how long you had until the semester ended. You did love your course; studying and pursuing fashion was your life long dream, but days like this where it just dragged on for hours with no practical stuff and just all theory drained the life and passion out of you. This point in the semester was the worst, with exams coming up soon you didn’t get to do any of the fun stuff. Designing was fun but when you only got to draw it out and had to annotate it without actually making anything it really chipped away at your ambition and love for the art.

“Okay students, now that all the bases are covered I would like to introduce you to some very special people” Your professor announces, snapping you out of your daydream. Your brain starts racing, trying to think of who it could be. Why would he be bringing in ‘special’ people? What have you been doing in this class that would call for any models, brand reps, high end designers or anyone of that like, to leave their important positions for an hour to come visit some university students?

“Because we are on the topic of individual styles and dressing for different body types, these people are coming in to help us. You will each be assigned one of these people and have to dress them to flatter their body type, while still keeping their preferred fashion style” Your professor explains. Ah yes, that… Shows how much you’ve been paying attention. Once your professor is finished explaining the project, a line of people starts to walk in. Your eyes widen, realising who they are; well, you don’t know exactly who they are, but you can assume. They are beautiful, tall and well proportioned so who else could they be other than models. Real models. You’re already so intimidated and anxious. One in particular who your eyes immediately catch, he’s the tallest one out of the bunch and his brown hair neatly parted off his forehead. Your heart starts racing and you hope you’re assigned anyone but him because god your heart is already about to burst out of your chest you’d hate to think about what mess you’d become if you had to talk to him and touch him.

But alas, of course with your luck that is exactly what happens. As the teacher goes through the names of the students and the models that they will be assigned you feel the butterflies in your stomach intensify as the boy you didn’t want to be assigned wasn’t assigned to anyone else yet. When the teacher eventually gets to your name, you hold your breath as he says you will be paired with someone named “Johnny” and you look along the models and see the boy smile and wave at you. Oh fuck. You give a poor attempt at a smile and a wave back and then fall back in your seat and look down at your blank laptop screen, refusing to look at anything but that.

“Before we start, just want to clarify that these people aren’t professional models…yet. They are only trainees and their companies generously lent them to us for this project and to also help them get experience, as at the end of this project we will be holding a mini fashion show. It won’t be anything too extravagant so don’t stress too much” Your professor clarifies, but as if that’s going to calm you down in any way. You wish you could be stressing over the actual project but sadly the only thing you’re stressing over is the fact that you’re going to have to talk to and style the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen in your life, and now he’s walking over to you and you’re feeling nothing but dread for all the embarrassment you’re about to cause yourself.

“So, what kind of fashion style and trends do you like the most?” You ask nervously, unable to look up at him. This whole conversation has just been you glancing at his hands; which wasn’t really helping since they were just as pretty as his face, so big and the outlines of his veins protruding and visible. His fingers also so long and slender and the rings he was wearing made them appear even longer, as if that was even possible. You really needed to kick some sense into yourself right now, you couldn’t go the whole project not looking at him while you were talking to him. He probably thinks you’re weird and impolite, but you can’t just tell him you’re too scared to look at him because he’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen in your life… Could you?

“Hello?” Johnny waves his hand in front of your face and you nearly jump out of your skin and accidentally make eye contact with him for ½ a second. You feel your cheeks becoming hotter by the second as you quickly look back down at your notes you were writing down on your laptop. You quickly mutter a ‘sorry’ and start typing away hastily on your laptop.

“Did you even hear what I said?” He furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “Yes I-” you accidentally look at his eyes again and immediately feel defeated, “no… I didn’t”. You looked down at your hands resting on some random keys, you don’t even know where you were going with this entire thing and you just felt so embarrassed, you couldn’t even look Johnny in the eyes for more than 2 seconds and even that was a stretch, how were you supposed to style an entire outfit for him? And have it look good? You can feel tears welling up in your eyes and you’re trying so hard to hold them back even though you know they’re visible. “Woah, are you okay?” Johnny asks softly, reaching over to close your laptop and put it aside. He leans in close trying to get you to look up at him, great now you’re really going to start crying. You look at him, feeling the the intense nerves in your stomach again but this time you continued to look at him. “I don’t know honestly, this whole project is already so overwhelming and I really have no idea what I’m doing. I’m already enough of a nervous, stressed out mess and add this to the mix and… I feel like I’m going to explode” You ramble on, body falling back in your chair as your gaze falls back down to your hands.

“What about it is stressing you out?” He questions. Every time he speaks you feel like you’re about to start melting, his voice is so smooth and low and especially when he’s talking to you so softly like this and trying to comfort you, god it’s driving you insane.

“Well…” You look up at him, trying to decide if you should lie or just tell him that it’s him, “I-it’s you”. Your mouth spoke before you could decide if you were going to say it or not.

“Me? Really?” He leans back a little, giving you a shy smile. “Yeah” You don’t realise how wide-eyed you’re looking at him right now, “just working with an actual model, well trainee, but to me it’s basically the same thing, you know? And having the responsibility of dressing you and having such a high possibility of messing it all up and humiliating not just myself, but you as well. You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen so I don’t know how I’ll make you look bad but with my luck I’m sure I will somehow” You ramble once again, having no idea what you just said.

“Okay firstly, you won’t mess it up at all, I’ll help you if you’re unsure even though I already trust you since you’ve been asking me detailed questions, so I know you’re thorough and passionate about your work and ideas. Secondly, I’m the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, really?” He has a shit eating grin on his face and you feel your stomach sink. You’d bang your head against the table but you’ve already embarrassed yourself enough, all you can do now is at least pretend to be confident and own up to what you said, as if he’ll believe it at this point.

“Y-yeah you are, you’re a model so of course…. That’s the only reason why- Anyways!! Back to the questions!” You snap open your laptop and ask him the question again. At least you can make eye contact with him now without feeling like throwing up everywhere, for the most part. This project was already an emotional rollercoaster and you hadn’t even started yet.

It had been a week since the project started and much to your disbelief and low expectations, it was actually going quite well. Once you opened up to him, you found that he was a very down to earth guy, also surprisingly shy and very funny. He was very good at initiating conversation and keeping them going, so he kind of forced you to open up by making you talk with his never-ending conversation but you weren’t complaining at all. Especially at times like today, you two were at the shopping centre to look around and shop for clothes for the project. You were feeling so dead, since you were running on 3 hours of sleep and you woke up early to meet up with Johnny. He got mad at you for not taking care of yourself, even thought it wasn’t your fault and it was due to so many assessments being due at once. His conversation kept you awake though, (amongst a lot of coffee) even if it did irritate you at some points and you didn’t feel like talking, he still talked even if you didn’t answer. Purely because he knew he was helping you not fall asleep while you walked.

“Remind me why we’re here when we have work to do?” Johnny asks, looking at you confused as you stood in line for frozen yoghurt.

“Because there’s nothing more motivating and uplifting than your own personalised ice cream. Choosing my own flavour and filling it to the brim with candy and chocolate and jelly reminds me that the choices I make will make me happy and are good for me!” You glance at his face, “At least, for me, you know?”. He just lets out a huff of air as he smiles and looks away. “Sure, if it will cheer up and make you less tired. Maybe I’ll feel some sort of achievement as well!” Johnny smiles softly, squinting as he looks up at the menu. You chuckled softly to yourself as you smiled up at him, watching him look confusedly at the overwhelming amount of options. You felt a ride of that same nervousness in your stomach that you felt when you first saw him, you looked down at the floor quickly as your face fell. You suddenly felt very unworthy of being in presence, but at the same time it’s the only place you wanted to be.

Unfortunately, one thing you forgot with frozen yoghurt was that you could not go into any of the clothes shops until you had finished. So for 20 minutes you had just been sitting at a table that belonged to the dumpling place, and you were worried you’d get kicked out and told off for sitting there but Johnny insisted you wouldn’t. You rushed eating your froyo out of fear and finished within 5 minutes, but Mr. Seo over here took so long that you did end up getting kicked from the table.

“I told you! I fucking told you!” You yell, pretending to be angry. All Johnny could do was laugh in response, feeling butterflies rise in his stomach seeing how cute you looked with your face scrunched up in anger. He wanted so badly to kiss your pouty lips right then and there.

You’d passed a lot of shops now; even went into a few that you thought had the vibe that you were looking for, but sadly none of them fit the vision of the outfit you had planned out in your head. Johnny was happily following you around like a big, loyal St. Bernard as you hastily rushed about, anxiety clearly building. You stopped by a virtual map, scrolling through the possible shops you could visit and feeling discouraged when you see majority of the possible options would most likely push you over budget, which was a very high budget that was hard to go over but if you bought all the items from a high end brand it would very easily cross over. You didn’t want to let yourself be visibly stressed out in front of Johnny but you weren’t exactly hiding it very well, he could very well tell that you were about to launch yourself from the barrier right next to you onto the floors of the shopping centre below. Instead of doing that however, you just banged your head very hard onto the screen of the map in front of you, arms falling limp beside your body as you sighed in frustration. Johnny bent down below you, looking up at your face.

“What’s got you stressed out? I mean, I know what the general issue is but what is the tiny little obstacle that you are struggling with right now?” He quietly asks. You huff again, lifting your head off the map and sitting on the bench next to it. Johnny quickly follows, barely having to get up to sit down next to you.

“I’m just completely lost, everything we’ve seen so far isn’t fitting the vision I have laid out in my head, not even close to the vibe. Am I just being too picky? I don’t know. I’m just that kind of person that if I can’t have or get exactly; or even close to what I’m thinking of in my head then it just sets me off and I feel like a complete failure” You vent, not even realising that you were rambling.

“No you’re not picky, it’s good that you can come up with an exact plan and vision to follow along with in your head, it’s not a bad thing. What is bad is feeling like a complete failure if you won’t be satisfied with any other possible outcome, that doesn’t make you a failure at all. You always have other options, even if they aren’t as good as the one you have planned out. There’s always other ways to get it as well, whether it be thrift shopping or just switching the colours or patterns around” Johnny puts his hand over yours, feeling his heart race suddenly spike, “I’m here to help in any way I can, if it’ll help you be less stressed”. You just stare back at him, head blank and wide eyed. Your head’s screaming at you to lean in closer; to touch him, to kiss him, but there’s absolutely no way in hell you’re doing that. Johnny; amidst his trance of staring into your soul, didn’t realise that his gaze had fallen to your lips, not realising that something was pulling him closer, inch by inch. Thankfully (to him), an idea suddenly popped into his head. He shook his head out of his trance and stood up quickly, reaching his hands out to yours.

“Get up, I have an idea” He says excitedly. You can practically see his imaginary St. Bernard tail wagging a mile a minute. You grab his hands and hesitantly lift yourself up as he pulls you, a wary look on your face. He starts walking whilst pulling you behind him, not letting go of your hand; in fact, he was holding it tighter than necessary.

“You’re not even gonna tell me what this idea of yours is?” You say, a little out of breath trying to keep up with this long strides.

“I want to be a little bit of a surprise, but let’s just say that it will be both a break and inspiration all at once” He giggles, not even slowing down to help you catch up.

“Johnny this is stupid! It’s unfair for you to be dressing me up when it should be me dressing you up! I can’t expect you to do this for me, it’s not your project” You yell at him from inside the dressing room as if he could even hear you, he’s probably running amuck on the other side of the store with the clothes racks.

“You’re not expecting anything, I’m offering honey” He surprisingly responds, throwing clothes over the door for you, “It’s to help ~inspire~ you”. You can hear his dumb smile in his tone. You just roll your eyes in response, not realising the barely visible smile creeping onto your face due to the fact he just called you ‘honey’ and the fact that he’s just so endearingly silly. You took the clothes from him and hung them up on the side of the cubicle. “Oh, I- Are you sure this will suit me?” You stutter, feeling a different kind of nervousness rise in your stomach. “Yes, trust me. I didn’t choose just any outfit” He soothes from the other side of the door. It was a very different feel and different look to your usual outfits, you dressed more smart casual most days. In jeans and crop tops or tucked in shirts or comfy breathable pants and cute comfy jumpers or hoodies and you religiously wore sneakers, whether they be chunky and fashionable or just comfy and cute. Sometimes you wore boots if you had somewhere to be just to jazz up the vibe a little. You always dressed well and fashionable, but it was always a comfier and casual kind unless it was an event or special occasion, then you jazzed it up of course but even then it was never this stand out. You hesitantly changed into the outfit, feeling a little unsure of how you would look. However, once you saw yourself in the completed look you felt a tiny bit better about it. It was flattering but you were just worried about what Johnny would think when he sees you in a not baggy, comfy for once. He’d never seen you with an outfit that actually looks like efforts been put into it than just quickly thrown on together in the morning. You were checking yourself out in the mirror, seeing how you looked from all angles and fixing your hair, seeing how you could wear it with this outfit. You really liked it honestly, you were already envisioning what jewellery you’d pair with it and what makeup look you’d do.

“Is it on?” Johnny asks from outside, he must’ve heard your heels moving around.

“Oh-yes… Did you want to see?” You quietly respond.

“Of course I do, silly”. You gulp nervously, suddenly feeling a little self conscious as you reluctantly walk to the door of the cubicle. You unlock it and open it slightly, sticking your head out first and feeling your heart jump seeing Johnny in front of you so suddenly.

“Just keep in mind that I’m not completely dolled up right now so it might look a bit odd” You warn, but he just rolls his eyes at you with a small smile. You slowly open the door wider and step out, walking out into the hallway along the change rooms and looking at yourself in the full length mirror at the end of it. The whole time, Johnny is just watching you with wide eyes, trying to stop his jaw from falling open.

“Wow… You look stu- I mean; you look… Cool?” Johnny cringes at himself as he tries to save himself but just makes it worse. You bite your lip, trying not to laugh at his embarrassment as he turns away with a face palm.

“Thanks?” You tease. He had chosen really well, seeing yourself from this distance made it look so much better. He had chosen a two piece with a subtle black and white tartan pattern sewed into it, the bottom half being high-waisted smart trousers that ended just under your ribs and flared out just a little around your ankles; the top half being a singlet cropped just above your ribs. He also chose some plain black, shiny stilettos to wear with it. Johnny came up behind you with a hand on your hip, startling you and quickly causing a blush to form on your cheeks at the feeling of his tall, broad body against yours. He slides a blazer over one of your arms, making you instinctively lift up your other one for him to slide the jacket on. Once it’s on you adjust it and pat it down, taking the view in; the view being Johnny looking at you in front of him in the mirror in awe and you screaming internally at him towering over you (and just at his general otherworldly beauty). He was rubbing your shoulders as he smiled proudly at you in the mirror, proud of his little creation.

“Wow…” He accidentally blurts out in a whisper. You try to hide the massive grin that forms on your face. You reach up and grab his hands that are on your shoulders and turn yourself around to face him.

“This has just made me sad, I love it so much but I can’t afford to buy it since I have to get your outfit” You pout, looking up at him.

“Well yeah, that’s why I’m buying it” Johnny cheekily grins.

“Uh, no you are not” You gasp.

“Uh, yes I am. Why else would I have even had you try it on?”

“To get ~inspired~ just like you said?”

“No- well yeah, but not just that! If I’m gonna look fine as hell at the showcase, so do you”

“Oh shush, you’re already ‘fine as hell’ as is. And again, it’s about you not me”

“Okay firstly, I know but so are you. I can’t be the only one flaunting my looks and showing everyone up, I need everyone to know the girl who made me look this good is also breathtaking herself” Johnny smirks. You blush, scrunching up your face in anger that you’re lost for words.

“Okay you win, but still I’d feel horrible if you just bought me a whole out-” Johnny cuts you off.

“Just be quiet and give the clothes to me” Johnny sighs, closing the cubicle door.

You tried to race Johnny to the register and pay for the outfit yourself but all he had to do was reach out his branchy arm to cut you off and give the cashier his credit card. You huff in frustration, feeling genuinely bad that Johnny did that for you; yes, it was out of his own choice and want but you still just feel bad when anyone spends money on you. You didn’t say another word as you walked out of the store.

“Don’t feel bad please, I promise you it’s fine I wanted to cheer you up and make you feel better. I also genuinely wanted you to have a nice outfit to wear, it hasn’t affected my bank account that badly I promise” Johnny pats your head.

“I know, but I just can’t help feeling it. Thank you though, I do appreciate the gesture and to be honest I didn’t really have any outfit to wear to the showcase, I didn’t even think that far for myself yet but yes, thank you, really” You grab his free hand and squeeze it. You feel a rush in your chest, why did you do that? You try to let go as a reflex but Johnny quickly tightens his grip. The rush fades to a feeling of content and you realise, you actually do feel more ~inspired~ and calmer now, a million ideas come rushing into your head at once.

“Let’s do this!” You cheer, raising your hand with Johnny’s and jumping in excitement. Johnny, even though he almost drops the bag from the sudden fright, looks at you with such endearment in his eyes.

The showcase was tomorrow night and you were facetiming Johnny, making him suffer with you in your stress breakdown and making him go through a checklist with you to make sure both of you had everything you needed. You were going to spend all of the morning getting ready and then photoshoots, videos, setup, interviews and practice runs all day before the actual event starts. It was going to be so stressful, not to mention you had to get up even earlier to get Johnny’s outfit back from the drycleaners. You should’ve been asleep right now but instead you were running rampant around your bedroom trying to get everything ready so you didn’t forget a single thing in the morning. Johnny wasn’t even saying anything, he was all rugged up in bed, almost falling asleep watching you.

“Are you sure you have absolutely everything ready for tomorrow?” You ask for the 6th time.

“Yes, I’m sure” Johnny mumbles, struggling to keep his eyes open, “You should go to sleep, baby. I don’t want you to be sleep deprived tomorrow and even more stressed out”. He didn’t even realise that the word ‘baby’ slipped out of his mouth in his half asleep state. You couldn’t even process it properly or react due to the fact you were sorting out all the makeup you’ll need to bring tomorrow.

“I know, but if this day doesn’t go 100% perfect I’ll be so devastated” You sigh.

“Nothing’s ever going to go 100% perfect honey, and that’s okay because that’s life” Johnny slurs, eyes completely closed at this point. These nicknames were catching you off-guard and you just shoved to the back of your mind to think about when you actually try to sleep. You sigh, looking over at Johnny on your phone, he looked so cute and cosy; his cheek squished up against his pillow, causing his plush lips to be all squished up too. You felt your heart melting at the sight, maybe you should just relax a little and go to sleep. If you were sleep deprived it would just make the stress even worse, you would have time in the morning to double check everything and get any last minute things together. You needed to take care of yourself, for Johnny’s sake. You put the last of your makeup into the separate bag and cleaned it all off your bed and slid under the covers, turning the lamp off. You weren’t sure whether to hang up or not, so you didn’t. You set your alarm on your alarm clock so that you could stay on the phone with Johnny. You snuggled into your covers, smiling softly to yourself as you watched Johnny sleep, even now he’s still so beautiful. “Goodnight, see you tomorrow” You whisper as you close your eyes even though he can’t hear you, feeling a ton of emotions about the next day to come.

“Here you go” you pant as you carefully place Johnny’s Starbucks order on the counter in front of him, out of breath from rushing to the coffee shop and back. Johnny gives you a big smile as you sit back on the counter, watching the stylist touch up his hair, you had to admit you were kind of envious that she actually had an excuse to be able to touch Johnny for long periods of time. Especially when he looked so pretty; BB cream making his already soft skin look so plush and dewy, the lip tint making his already kissable & luscious lips look 100 times more so. The subtle eyeshadow on his eyes was really natural and not that noticeable but at the same time it brought his eyes out more.

“Thank you, now please relax. Everything’s going well, it’s okay” Johnny soothes, patting and rubbing your knee with his free hand as his other held his drink. He’s right, the morning had gone smoothly and his photoshoot/video was done and now he was preparing for the practice run and for the interviewers that were about to show up. Everyone at the university was using this event for their big assessments as well, the media students, the photography/ videography students, the beauty students, etc. it had actually become a pretty prestigious event over the years so a lot of people and media outlets actually showed up. You weren’t even ready yet yourself, still dressed in a hoodie and jeans for now and you probably wouldn’t get ready until you were left rushing at the last minute. The makeup artist started to touch up Johnny’s lip tint and you hate to admit that you actually felt a tiny pang of jealously fire up in you, Johnny must’ve noticed the way you were frowning while watching her do her job and he gave you a smile and wink once she’d finished.

“Don’t be stressed alright, your job is over for now. I hate seeing you so stressed out” Johnny says quietly, not wanting to disturb the stylists and other people in the room.

“I know, but I’m just nervous that something will screw up last minute or that people just won’t like the look I went with and then I’ll embarrass you as well by doing th-” You ramble on. Johnny cuts you off by quickly snatching your hand into his.

“Shh, it will be fine. Stop overthinking it, you’re great and you’ve done an amazing job” Johnny soothes again, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. You sigh, realising that he is right, overthinking won’t do you any good and you just needed to remain calm and believe in yourself; and Johnny of course. You knew the outfit looked good, especially on Johnny, you had him try it on 5 different ways 10 different times before all this to reassure yourself it looked as good as it could.

“All models please make your way to the runway entrance and prepare yourselves for the practice run” The lady announces over the speaker suddenly, causing you both to nearly jump out of your skin.

“Okay, I’ll go and get myself dressed quickly and I’ll come and watch you” You rush as you both stand up, Johnny squeezing your hand tightly before reluctantly letting go, not letting you out of his gaze with a sweet smile as he walks backwards to the runway.

It was starting to get hectic as the show was only half an hour away now, people were running around everywhere in the dressing room and you hadn’t had a chance to see Johnny since he left for the practice run. You were all dolled up now, in the two piece and stilettos Johnny bought for you and your hair slicked back into a high pony. Your makeup was also more glamorous now along with the hoop earrings, lace choker and other more fancy-looking jewellery you had on. Your stomach turned with both intense excitement and nerves at the thought of seeing Johnny’s reaction to your new look. Thinking about Johnny, you really don’t understand how you were struggling to find him; better yet, how you lost him in the first place. He was literally the tallest person in the building. Looking at the time, you started to feel a little worried, half an hour to go and Johnny; the most prepared person, is nowhere to be found? You immediately pushed your way out of the dressing room and out into the venue. There was press and audience members everywhere and avoiding them and trying to push through them while looking for Johnny all at once was really overwhelming you. You were going to be so mad with Johnny when and if you find him. You made your way to the bar and café with no luck, you went outside to the front entrance and also outside to the creepy back area to find nothing in either of those places either. You were really starting to panic and be at a loss for where to look, you assume he was going to come back to where he was meant to be before the show actually starts, but you also didn’t want to risk it and needed to settle your nerves now. How could he do this to you when he knew how stressed you were about this? You were finally feeling calm and feeling good about how it was going to go and he does this, you’re really going to beat his ass when you see him. You go back inside and right when you enter you see the door to the staircase that takes you to the upstairs areas, would he really be hiding on a completely different floor? You would have no idea why but your gut was telling you that he was up there somewhere and you didn’t like that feeling. You felt nervous about what was about to happen even though you had no idea what it was.

You didn’t even bother checking every floor on your way up the stairs, you just went straight for the rooftop, it just made the most sense that if Johnny was anywhere up here, it’d be there; and if he wasn’t, then you’d give up. The other floors were completely empty and to be honest, quite creepy. Just not in use at all. You took off your stilettos to walk up the stairs because there was no way in hell you were going to walk up nearly 5 flights of stairs in heels, it was already hard enough with your very lacking lung capacity; you did not want to add broken ankles on top of that. When you finally reach the rooftop floor (after taking a little break to get some air back into your lungs), you open the door and walk out to the breeze instantly hitting your face. You look around to see Johnny standing near the edge, watching the view from behind the gate they had set up to stop any risk of anyone falling. As soon as your eyes find him you start angrily stomping towards him.

“Johnny Seo you’re a dead man”, he instantly turns around upon hearing your voice “how dare you just leave me stranded like that with 20 minutes now left before the show starts?!”. His jaw drops upon seeing you, eyes widening as he takes in your figure.

“Holy shit, I- you look fucking stunning” he gasps, forgetting any thoughts he had prior.

“Seriously Johnny, I’m really upset with you what the hell were you thinking? You know how much I was and am stressing over this whole thing and after calming me down and making me feel better about it you just walk off somewhere when you’re supposed to be ready? You’re really about to make not just you, but me look bad and unprofessional and jeopardise my entire course and career? I’m never forgiving you for this I’m-” You rant on, pushing Johnny’s comment and the butterflies rising in your stomach to the back of your mind.

“Shh, listen. I was going to come back if you didn’t come up here, obviously I wouldn’t just ditch the show and leave you there to clean up my mess. I knew you’d come up here to find me, it’s what I planned” Johnny reassures you, grabbing both your hands softly and rubbing the backs of them with his thumbs. You didn’t stop him.

“I-… What? What do you mean?” You say, completely lost.

“I mean; I can’t hold it in anymore. I know it probably wasn’t the best idea to just ditch you without any word…and I’m sorry for that, but as I said; I knew you’d come and find me up here and I just needed to be alone with you for a few minutes so I can get all of this of my chest. And out of my head. And just… I don’t know- I’m nervous and my minds jumbled now that you’re actually up here with me I really thought you wouldn’t find me and my heart is going to explode!” Johnny rambles on, it felt weird seeing him like this. Usually it was you doing this. You were really lost for words, just staring up at him confused and waiting for him to say what he wanted to. Exactly what you thought he was going to say. You knew exactly that this is what was going to happen before you even walked up those stairs. Your heart was racing and you felt like you were going to pass out any second. This wave of different emotions all at once was way too overwhelming. Johnny sighs, intertwining your fingers together as he pulls you closer to him as his gaze falls to the floor.

“I… like you. A lot. I have really immense feelings for you. And I hate it. Not because of you! I just fell for you so fast and usually it takes a while for me to like someone, especially this much but… You. You’re just so amazing in every way and you inspire me and encourage me. You make me feel motivated. Not to mention how cute you are”, he finally makes eye contact with you to see you biting your lip in a shy smile “so fucking cute”. He smirks as his gaze falls back down to the floor. You let go of his hands to wrap your arms around his shoulders and intertwine your own hands behind his neck, heels still hanging from your fingers. He sharply inhales as his heart rate increases greatly, wrapping his arms around your waist as he tries to hide how flustered he was feeling by playing it cool.

“Continue” you bite your lip with a smirk, tilting your head as you make eye contact. You don’t know where this rise of confidence came from, but you like it.

“And seeing you like this, so beautiful and…sexy”, he whispers, clearing his throat “really makes my heart race and makes me feel so…. God I’m trying so hard to be cool right now but I am failing so bad”. You giggle as he sighs in embarrassment, this cute side to him that you’ve never seen before was really making your heart seize up.

“Anyways, just seeing you so stressed out this assignment was really making me so sad and knowing that I helped you feel better and calm you down made me feel so genuinely happy. Seeing you like that was really hurting me and I felt like I was just making it worse but seeing you calm down from me holding your hand, like that’s all it took, really sealed the deal for me… That I like you I mean. Especially last night when you fell asleep on Facetime with me, you really just didn’t want to hang up so badly that you got ready for bed and fell asleep on call with me? Even though I was already asleep? God, that really made my heart so tingly and warm”, Johnny smiles so big reminiscing on that moment and you blush, you don’t even really know why you did that “but yeah I. I really like you and something tells me you like me too but I don’t know… I don’t know. I hope you do like me”. His smile slowly fades; not to a frown, but a look that was waiting, no, hoping for an answer without asking a single word. You didn’t even have a chance to say your answer before your body answered for you, standing on your tiptoes and your chin lifting up to softly connect your lips with his. At first, it was just the one kiss. You pulling away quickly, afraid that you acted too quickly and scared him off, but your worries are just as quickly soothed when, after the initial shock wore off, he tightens his arms around your waist to pull you in closer as he leans down to kiss you again. Still soft but with a bit more need, leading you through the kiss as he moves his lips against yours. One of your hands unknowingly slides down to his chest, pulling him in closer by the collar of his trenchcoat. His lips were just as soft as they looked, even with a needy kiss like this they felt so soft and delicate and the feeling of them moving in sync against yours was making your head so foggy, like you were floating amongst the clouds. Johnny pulls away with a pant, having to stop himself before he gets too carried away. He rests his forehead against yours as he snakes his arms up yours, pulling your hands down and holding onto them tightly.

“I really want to continue but, there’s 10 minutes until the show starts and we’re already going to get our asses handed to us as is”, Johnny sighs, a cheeky smile forming on his face “I also don’t want to have to walk the runway with a boner”. You roll your eyes and smack his chest, threatening to throw your heels at him.

“You deserve it, this is all your fault after all, if you just waited until after the show to give me that horrible, messy confession of your feelings, we wouldn’t be in this position” You taunted.

“That’s completely fair” He nods in agreement. You put your heels back on as you grab his hand and start to walk back down the stairs.

“Just to be clear though, I would like to continue after the shows all wrapped up. Please” You stop, looking up at him halfway down the stairs. He rolls his eyes at you with a smirk.

“Of course”

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