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jen-with-a-pen · 4 months

Text

Dancing in the Kitchen

summary: After the worst night imaginable, your best friend helps you when you need him most. What you don't realize is just how much you've always needed him. or: Tony Dumps you. Steve picks you up and puts you back together.

parings: protective!best friend!Steve Rogers x best friend!f!Reader

word count: 4.9k

warnings: fluff, angst, self-doubt and insecurity, verbally abusive relationship elements, insults + language/name calling, reader cusses and so does Steve bc he can, no smut!, wearing Steve's clothes (very little to no description about reader's body so do with that what you will), intense feelings, confessions, crying, anxiety, best friends to lovers, intimate touch, VERY SLIGHT possessiveness, protectiveness, not Tony Stark friendly, cap quartet mention

a/n: these characters are out of college! It's set in their early-mid 20s following graduating and I thought it'd be a little more relatable (also since I'm not in college anymore I wanted this specific fic concept to be more relatable. self-indulgence and stuff). the cap quartet rent a house together. there might be more shenanigans in the future involving them. maybe. who knows? enjoy <3

If I've missed any tags, please let me know!

gif by @annislittleshopofhorrors | dividers by @saradika-graphics | warning banner by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

Everything was cold.

Everything was ruined.

Everything was a fucking nightmare.

Dark clouds shrouded the night sky, hiding helpful moonlight. Rain pelted at you from above, mixing with fresh tears, drenching you to the bone as cold water collected on your skin and soaked through your dress. Your hands morphed into balled fists at your sides as you shook with rage, heartbreak, and the innate need to punch something.

You couldn’t wrap your pounding head around the events of the night; everything blurred together after ten o’clock. It was like a cruel joke, one where you waited an eternity for the punchline, begging for it not to be real no matter how hard you screwed your eyes shut and prayed.

You didn’t want to believe it, yet there you were.

It sure as hell wasn’t the first time you found yourself standing at the backdoor of Steve Roger’s house on the cusp of a breakdown– and a breakup– warring with your own body to simply knock on the fucking door. Hell, Steve was already expecting you. He knew something was wrong the second you called; there wasn’t a warning text, just you, asking in a choked-up whisper if he was home. His response spilled out in a rushed ‘yes’ before you could explain further. A ‘no questions asked’ request, something not uncommon in your friendship. Steve, since day one, was one of your main sources of comfort within a thousand mile radius.

Now, he was your only source of comfort within a thousand mile radius.

Remnants of the phone call from Tony only minutes earlier echoed in your eardrums like a bad case of tinnitus. Annoying, repetitive. His hoarse, drunken slurry of vicious words clawed at the inside of your skull. Another fight. Another screaming match. Another forgotten birthday– this time, it included meeting your family. You’d planned it for months prior, making sure Tony knew not to forget it.

Your insides were twisting in knots as you waited at the restaurant awkwardly with your parents, brother, and an empty seat next to you. After an hour, eight failed calls and fifteen texts later, Tony finally picked up. Delight revived the few butterflies left in your stomach, only to be crushed, turning them into weighted dread as loud club music obliterated your ear drum as he shouted at you.

“You bitch!” he spat. “Why the ever-loving f-fuck are y’blowin’ up my phone for?!”

You didn’t have time to process what he was saying before he’d already reloaded and shot you with more.

“What the hell is sooooo important? Huh? Y-you stupid bitch! You fuckin’ knew I’m busy t’night!”

You tore the phone away. Even at arm’s length, you, and the rest of your family, could hear every single thing he spewed at you. A couple from the table next to yours stopped mid-bite to turn and throw rude looks at you and your family.

“Tony, please, I–”

“‘Tony please’– just shut up!” he mocked. “Just shut the fuck up! I don’t fuckin’ care what you gotta– what you have t’say! I can’t f–fuckin’ stand you anymore!”

Hurt and hunger morphed into churning waves of anxiety and embarrassment. Your throat was closing. Tears began stinging your eyes. You looked between your parents in shame, meeting their stunned looks filled with pity and disappointment. Your brother refused to look anywhere but the spot on his plate where he played with his food, sadness and second-hand embarrassment plaguing his face.

Yelling, jeering, and chanting echoed out of your phone. Tony didn’t stop.

“Y’know what? I’m not doin’ this anymore,” he slurred, gulping some unknown liquid down, swallowing, gagging. More cheering. “We– we’re fuckin’ done. You’re out. I’m done.”

The other line fumbled. You winced as you heard Tony wet his lips, preparing the final blow. His breathing became heavy, ragged, hard enough you could smell the liquor through the phone.

“Fuckin’ cunt.”

Click.

You loathed yourself for tolerating him; the endless cycle of poisoning you, providing the antidote, and taking it away when it seemed to get better. The whiplash from his unpredictable moods and personal attacks on you hurt as bad as it felt when he’d come around with endless apologies– accompanied by flowers, cuddles, and kisses– to heal each wound he was responsible for.

This time, though, the stab was fatal. This time, you bled out; it’d been akin to getting gutted and hung helplessly in front of your fucking family.

A sob snuck its way up your throat. You choked it down, willing your fist to reach up and knock on the door. You didn’t understand why this was next to impossible. Steve was your best friend. It wasn’t like he was a stranger. It wasn’t like he’d chastise you or yell at you or tell you to fuck off. Yet, there was a fear, deep down, feeding on the anxiety and self-doubt in the pit of your stomach, telling you the opposite; it whispered to you, telling you to run back to your car, scream into the steering wheel, and speed off to disappear from everything and everyone for just a little longer. It’d only be until you got your head on straight, until you figured out what to do with the apartment and your classes and your stuff and–

Knock. knock. knock.

In the blur of a million thoughts racing through your mind, you automatically reached up and weakly knocked, body tensing every muscle as you waited.

The door swung open, revealing one extremely concerned Steve Rogers.

Steve panted, a result from sprinting down the stairs from his upstairs bedroom in an attempt to open the back door by your first knock. Acutely aware of his jaw hanging from its hinges, Steve’s soft baby blues bore into you, scanning you up and down, stunned at you and your dress and how desperate you looked.

Time stopped the second you saw him; it was difficult to describe, but everything magnetizing between the two of you was different. You felt different– different in the way he was familiar and somehow new at the same time. Steve felt different– different in the way you were single for the first time in two years and he was single since… forever ago.

This time was unlike the million other times.

You both stared. Your lips quivered, his parted in disbelief. Both your minds instantly went blank, unable to think of anything to say, to do. So, the sky thought for you. It opened its floodgates, releasing a torrential downpour as you stood inches from warmth, from comfort.

“Steve,” you croaked, reaching for him.

It was then, everything came crashing down.

You crumbled to the ground in a heap, knees buckling while your hand and arms braced for impact with the ground. Steve quickly abandoned his tight grip on the doorframe, catching you, helping you inside. Lungs gasped for air as heavy sobs poured from your chest and tears flowed steadily down your face. You pawed at Steve’s arm hooked around you as he stumbled back into the house, kicking the door closed and collapsing onto the kitchen floor with you in tow. He immediately pulled you closer and hugged you tightly against his chest. You heaved, crying out from the painful pit in your heart, digging your fingers into his flesh, hard enough to bruise. You buried your face into his t-shirt and bawled.

All of it– the rage, the hurt, the mess of balled-up emotions from the last two fucking years– came unraveled. Hands twisted into Steve’s t-shirt, balling the fabric and pulling it taut enough to rip.

Steve didn’t shout. He didn’t complain. He didn’t utter a single word as he leaned against the kitchen cabinets, rocking you gently, squeezing you harder as his chest rose and fell rhythmically against your pounding skull, silently coaxing you to follow his breathing. Blubbering in his lap, stringing words together became futile as thoughts became unrecognizable. Another wave of panic and anxiety crashed over you. Steve’s mumbled shushes softened you; the deep timbre and honeyed bass of his voice and vibrations in his chest grounded you, welcoming you to safety. To home.

“Shh… don’t worry, I got you. I have you. You’re okay,” he muttered, running a hand gently up and down your back.

“I–he–bu–” you fumbled, lip quivering as another sob overtook you. Rage clawed at the walls in the chasm of your chest. You screamed. Guttural, pained. Again. And again.

“Shh… it’s okay, let it out. You’re okay. You’re safe here,” he soothed, rocking you, adding in a lowered octave, “I’m here.”

“T–Tony,” you hiccuped, fists twisting more of Steve’s t-shirt. “He–he–”

“What, angel? What about Tony?”

“He–he c–called me n–names a–and,” you shook your head violently, “he b-broke up with me. For real, this time.”

Steve cupped your cheek, softly wiping away fresh tears with calloused fingertips. While you continued to cry in his arms, his focus turned to the back door you tumbled through. Inside, he seethed; his rage nearly boiled over at the thought of anyone doing this to you, let alone Tony fucking Stark. Out of all the things you’d told him over the last couple years– all the threats, the cruel jokes and abandonment and insults– tonight was the ultimate cherry on top. It validated every time Tony’s actions made Steve think vengeful thoughts on what he’d do if he ever got five minutes with the douchebag. Just five minutes. Alone.

He shook the thought away, looking back down to you. The last thing he wanted was for you to see him upset, let alone remotely think you were the cause of it. He’d promised himself that the first time you met.

Tony was going to fucking pay for what he’d done to you every single second for the last two years. And on your birthday, for chrissake.

“What–” Steve swallowed the excess rage in his chest. “What kind of names, sweetie?”

You softened, sniffling, refusing to look at him. “He called me a b–bitch, a–and,” you bit your tongue, “a… cunt.”

The moment the word left your lips, Steve fought every last nerve in him not to put you to bed, get in his car, and go teach Tony a lesson on some fucking manners. Hell, even the idea of taking Bucky and Sam crossed his mind.

He pushed the thought away, focusing back on you. You needed him. You came to him for help. No one else but him.

Steve slid his hand off your back and placed it under your chin, thumb and forefinger gently coaxing you to look at him. Big blue eyes swam with concern and worry. In the dark of the kitchen, they seemed brighter than ever– a beacon guiding you back from the hurricane in your head.

In an instant, everything in your head went quiet. No more muffled echoes from the phone call. No more sobs readying to burst out your chest. No more caring about how swollen and puffy your eyes were, or the drying combination of mascara and tear stains running down your cheeks and neck. Your sopping wet dress that drenched the floor, and Steve, was pushed to the back of your brain, the cold no longer leaking into your bones as he brought you back down from the ledge.

All you saw was Steve. All you smelled, all you could feel, was Steve.

Steve swallowed. His jaw slacked, tongue jutting out to wet his lips, slowly drinking you in for as long as he was able.

And honestly? You couldn’t care enough to stop him. It’d been so long since someone looked at you the way Steve did.

Had he always looked at you like that?

“Listen to me. You are none of those things. Not even close,” he whispered, hoping you believed him.

You nodded lightly. “I–I know, but it hurts,” your voice cracked again, eyes drifting away from him.

“Hey, look at me,” he tugged at your chin, “you will never be anything like he says you are. Ever. Okay?”

You stared at him. A small smile pulled at the corners of your lips as you placed a hand on his, taking it from your chin to your chest. Warmth bloomed as it rested against your damp skin.

“‘Kay.” Barely a whisper. Enough for only him to hear.

He paused, gaze holding steady on you, lips twitching at the corners.

“Let’s get you up ‘n out of that thing, yeah?” He nodded to your dress. “You gotta be freezing.”

Gently, he lifted you off his lap, rising from the kitchen floor and pulling you up on your feet. Your legs felt like a wobbly blend of jelly and nerves that forced you to lean onto Steve for support. He anticipated this, catching you and gripping your shoulders. You didn’t say a word. Instead, you clung to him as he guided you through the living room and up the stairs to his bedroom. You passed by Sam and Bucky’s rooms, both empty for the night, just like Natasha’s downstairs.

As Steve rifled through his drawers and closet, your focus wandered to his messy desk: the lamp cast a soft, warm glow across the room, sitting next to history books and sketchbooks stacked high on top of one another; pencils and dirtied paint brushes littered the surface, products of his latest art assignment. His bed was half-made, dark green covers on one side neatly tucked in while the opposite was thrown aside, exposing gray pinstripe sheets. The walls were covered with scattered art– some his, others his favorite artists’– posters and pictures of family, friends, and some local bands. You bit back a smile. Memories of the shows you both went to over the last few years played like a highlight reel in your mind. You never regretted it; you never passed up a single invite, even after the time Tony locked you out for a whole weekend.

“Here, these are clean,” he handed you a neatly folded pile of his clothes before adding, “I promise.”

A fuller smile broke across your face. The first of the entire night.

“Uh huh, sure, I believe you,” you joked sarcastically. He feigned hurt, scoffing at your false accusation.

“I did the sniff test, if that makes you feel any better.”

You giggled, taking the clothes from him and turning to head to the bathroom.

“I’ll be down in the kitchen,” he called after you. “You, um, you want something to drink?”

You paused, turning to look at him from the bathroom doorway halfway down the hall. From where he stood, the saturated pink creeping up his neck and reaching his face was more visible than the light on his desk. You couldn’t help but hold in a snicker and flash him a relieved smile, thankful.

“Coffee would be a godsend, right now.”

Steve smiled, saluting you. “Coming right up.”

You headed into the bathroom, tossing the clothes onto the counter, slumping against the door the second you shut and locked it. Finally relaxing, you realized how much tension was pent up in your tired shoulders– which, in turn, prompted the realization you were holding your breath the entire time in Steve’s room.

Brushing the self-induced lightheadedness, you slipped the ruined dress off your body and hung it up on the shower rod. You hated the color, the texture, but wore it anyway. For Tony. On your birthday.

You cursed yourself, pulling your bra off next– a pushup that held your rib cage hostage the entire night. Just how Tony likes it.

Or, liked it.

You silently prayed Steve included some Bailey’s in your coffee.

Pulling on Steve’s sweatshirt, the scent of him enveloped you instantly. You couldn’t help but nuzzle into the neck of it, filling your lungs with the familiarity of Steve. He was a quiet, sunny Sunday morning and freshly brewed coffee. He was a nice night in watching your favorite movies and playing cards.

Your head was swimming, swirling, caught up in the entirety of your best friend. He was yours just as much as you were his. Through Tony, through other guys you’d subjected yourself to the last few years, none of them compared to Steve.

You tugged the sweatpants on, catching sight of yourself in the mirror and realizing the runny makeup staining your face. You snorted at how fucking ridiculous you looked, remembering the caked-on layers you’d put on for the evening. Again, just for Tony. The snort turned into a giggle, utterly grateful for Steve not making fun of how you looked and for ignoring the mascara stains on his poor t-shirt from earlier.

But, again, it was Steve. He’d never make fun of you. Ever.

Butterflies– the ones you’d thought were long gone months prior– stuttered suddenly, alive and fluttering in your stomach.

You instantly recognized the feeling: it was the same you had the day you met Steve.

The same feeling you’d get on roller coasters, or reading an exceptionally good romance novel. Giddiness, dizziness. It was as if you were spinning while the room stood still. Your head felt light, high on helium. Your skin burned. Meeting your own gaze in the mirror, you scanned yourself, the question ‘is this happening right now?’ running on a loop at the forefront of your mind.

Bzzt.

You jumped at the buzz of a text. With the trance broken, you took into account your shaking hands and the bumping tempo of your heart. Turning on the sink, you made sure the water was as cold as possible before cupping some in your hands and splashing your face. Refreshing. Needed. You rubbed the rest of the runny wakeup off your skin, stuffing your face into the fluffy hand towel and silently promising to get the boys a new one. Picking up your phone, teeth chewed on cheek to hold in your smile at the sight of Steve’s name on the screen.

⍟ Steve: You doing OK? Coffees ready

You looked at yourself in the mirror.

“You got this,” you told your reflection. “He’s only your best friend.”

The butterflies continued to multiply, bumping against one another, fluttering and escaping out into your chest and your limbs.

“Fuck.”

You opened the door.

⋆˙ઇଓ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

“I was beginning to think you climbed out the window up there,” Steve quipped upon seeing you round the corner into the kitchen. He couldn’t help the stupid grin spreading across his face when he saw you in his clothes. You looked more relaxed, more comfortable.

More like you.

You noticed he changed, too, donning a heather-gray t-shirt that clung to his torso in all the right ways– ways you hadn’t noticed before.

You mentally scolded yourself.

“A–Almost. But I’d never pass up a cup of world-famous Rogers Roast.”

“Wow, world-famous? I would’ve preferred universally-renowned, but I’ll take it.” He held a mug out to you, one faded with a ‘I ❤ New York’ logo– the one you’d gotten for him during your senior-year college internship. “Made it just how you like it.”

He paused as you took a sip. You could feel his eyes on you, watching you, biting his lip in anticipation as you drank. The coffee tasted like liquid gold, warm and comforting and all-around delicious. You didn’t care if you burnt your tongue. This was what you needed.

He was what you needed.

Was he?

You looked back up at Steve. His cheeks flushed as he pressed his lips together, entranced with the mug in your hands, eyes ever-so-slightly flitting from it to your lips and back again.

“Thank you, Stevie.”

“You’re welcome, angel.”

You pinched yourself, then took another sip.

Silence fell, comfortable and calm, as you both nursed your drinks, checking your phones and letting time pass. You didn’t care to check the clock.

Steve cleared his throat and set his phone down.

“So, um,” he began. “What else did you have planned for your birthday?”

His voice was low, tender, careful with the question so as not to upset you. He was curious, however, and determined to see exactly how much Tony fucked up your night.

And your life.

“Oh,” you swallowed, chewing your lip in an attempt to remember what you’d originally planned.

“He was, ah, gonna take me dancing. After dinner, after he,” you took an unsteady breath, “after he met my family. It was the one thing he told me he'd let me do after dinner.” You shook your head, adding under your breath, “besides him.”

Tension seeped into the space between you both. You didn’t want to meet Steve’s stare; it was the one you’d always see whenever you told him about Tony, one filled with anger so palpable it made his arms flex subconsciously, one he thought he hid well enough so you never saw, but you always did. Without looking up, you already knew his jaw was clenched and his shoulders were stiff and his eyes bored a hole into the wall behind you. Butterflies started to somersault, crashing into the waves of worry and anxiety.

“Why?”

You looked up. Blue eyes. Stormy, swirling, stubborn.

“What?”

“Why did you stay with him?” Steve asked steadily, voice barely above a whisper. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

You paused. “Because he wouldn’t let me leave.”

“I could’ve helped you. We could’ve helped you,” he gestured vaguely to the rest of the house.

Your teeth tore into your bottom lip. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

“I–” Steve sighed and carded a hand through his dirty blond hair, frustrated, trying to keep his promise while also appealing to you and balancing the fragile tightrope you two stood on. “I care about you, angel. I care about you so fuckin’ much. I just wanna know why. Why he was– why you were–”

“I–” Don’t fucking cry. “I was trapped. Every time I tried to leave, he’d tie me down more. It… it wasn’t as easy as you fucking think, Steve. Rose-colored glasses, wool over my eyes, wolf in sheep's clothing, that sorta thing, ya know? These last couple years, I… I don’t know why tonight was it, and I don’t know how I was able to get out, and I just… I don’t fucking know. I don’t. I–”

You felt tears again.

“I– Angel, I wasn’t trying to–”

“No, I know,” you cut him off, setting down your mug to rub your face in your hands. “I know. But I need you to understand that I– God, my fucking brain feels so scrambled. I just feel so confused, I feel like I’m going insane right now. Fuck!”

You tried to calm down, taking deep breaths to feed your strained lungs, holding on to each before exhaling. In, hold, out, repeat.

The room was spinning again, whirling around like a sick carnival ride as your center of gravity began to give.

As you braced the counter, strong hands and warm, muscular arms engulfed you, lifting you back from the countertop and guiding you into the middle of the kitchen. Steve pressed into you until you relented, reaching your arms around him and pulling him closer. The tension in your shoulders melted, migrating to your chest where your heart surged the moment he touched you, where it pounded against your sternum, threatening to break out of its marrow cage. You inhaled him, savoring him, feeling him all around you.

Slowly, delicately, Steve unwrapped from you. He was careful with every touch, as if he would shatter you– even though he had no problem with putting you back together again. He’d done it a million times before, and he’d do it a million times again.

He’d do it all again for you.

Steve carefully slid your hands from around his center, placing one onto his shoulder, then– nervously and ever-so-slowly– he held your other hand out, sliding down your forearm and entwining his fingers into yours. His free hand fell softly onto your waist, fingers absently and lightly kneading the fabric and skin underneath his palm.

“May I have this dance?” he whispered.

You looked up from the floor to Steve, speechless. You nodded.

Then, he started to sway. He guided you both, rocking side to side to an unheard rhythm and subtly spinning in unison under the soft glow of the kitchen light.

He smiled softly, boyish and genuine, with admiration and tenderness in his eyes. Something gentle and kind, something about the feeling and the familiarity of it– of him– sank into you the longer you looked at him. Your focus shifted around the features of his chiseled face. You recognized the light freckles stippled across his nose and cheeks leftover from the summer; the scar on his earlobe from the night Natasha drunkenly dared you to pierce his ear and failed; the faint worry lines sculpted into his forehead he inherited from his father; the soft, full pink of his lips that innocently parted when you caught him staring at you.

It was the feeling that felt foreign to you; the one missing from your life after the last two years. But, it wasn’t missing. It had been right in front of you the entire time stealing glances, accidental touches, and irreplaceable memories.

Steve had been there.

Steve had been the one looking at you like that for the last two years.

He wasn’t missing. He was just waiting his turn.

And, judging by the realization that washed over your face, his waiting was over.

Steve's smile widened as he squeezed your waist, wordlessly confirming the thoughts running rampant in your head. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed the ghost of a cry, blinking away tears forming in the corners of his vision.

Your lips trembled as you smiled back. Slowly, you snaked your hand from his shoulder to his cheek and cupped his face. He leaned into your touch instantly, stubble and skin rubbed against your palm as he kissed it lightly. The press of his lips sent a spark coursing through your veins, electrifying your body and the air around you. The two of you continued to sway while the kitchen spun faster, a blurred whirlwind while you both remained in focus.

“When?” you asked, voice barely audible.

“Since the day I met you.”

“Why didn’t you–”

Steve shrugged. “I wanted to get to know you first. Didn’t wanna be some random dude who just wanted you for your number. You seemed too special to rush into something. Still are,” he sighed. “I wanted to be your friend first, but before I could muster up some courage, Tony swept you out from under me.”

Guilt crawled up your throat. “I– I’m sorry, Stevie.”

He stepped away from you, twirling you, then dragged you back to him. You could’ve sworn your heart stopped beating.

“No, baby, you don’t have anything to be sorry for. I promise. I–” his voice broke. “I wanted you to be happy. I want you to be happy. I just– I wish I did more for you. I should’ve done more for you.”

He tilted his head to the ceiling trying to stop his tears from falling, but you pulled him right back down to you.

“Steve,” you started, keeping on his baby blues while your own voice struggled to remain steady, “you’ve done more for me than anyone else in the entire world. Hell, in my entire life. I just lost the last two years of my life suffering with someone I thought I loved. Who I thought loved me.”

You brought your other hand to his face. “You did all you could. I just… I thought it was gonna get better, you know? I thought, I hoped– God, I even fucking prayed– that he’d get better, but he didn’t. Nothing did. And I couldn’t find a way out. It’s like he conditioned me to believe he was the only one I had, like, he was the only one who’d ever save me.”

Steve frowned, but nodded in understanding.

“I’m glad you came to me. Not just tonight, but every night. It was like reassuring me that I didn’t totally lose you, or like I never totally lost you.”

“You’ll never lose me, Stevie.”

His face, red-hot underneath your touch, moved closer to yours. You couldn’t tell if you were pulling or he was pushing. His hands gripped your waist the tighter you held his face, the two of you crashing into one another in slow-motion. The light above you grew brighter, the humming of the appliances was getting louder, the room spun at an infinitely unfathomable speed.

You crashed together.

Soft lips– softer than either of you could’ve ever pictured feeling– fit together like the perfect puzzle pieces. Neither of you moved, staying locked together until your hands slipped around his neck, pulling him closer and smashing his nose into your cheek. His grip became bruising as his fingers kneaded into your waist, steadying himself with your hips. You felt another surge of electricity as his tongue jutted out, parting your lips and swiping along the bottom before retreating back behind his.

He tipped you backwards on your heel, smirking against your lips as you flinched and grabbed onto the collar of his shirt.

Setting you upright, he pulled away from the kiss and whispered, “I’ll never let you go.”

“Never?”

“Ever.”

You kissed him again, and the butterflies went wild.

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acaplaya-musings · 4 months

Text

Screw it, have a not-fully-human Voiceplay AU (Part 1)

I'm obviously not the first person to do this, and I very much got inspired by other AUs and fics I've seen floating around (I haven't even read any of the fanfics, but just reading the tags/summaries were enough to get my brain buzzing with ideas). And let's be honest, it's almost natural to imagine at least some of Voiceplay's members as non-human when they're that good, and don't even get me started on some of the videos!

This is mostly just a collection of thoughts/ideas though - I don't plan on turning it into a proper fic or doing art of it or anything like that, but I thought I might as well type it up here anyway, so it's not just stuck bouncing around in my brain. Sticking it under a Read More link because this ended up being kinda long. (And note that this AU is less of a "what if they had powers" AU and more of a "what if a lot of real life stuff was explained by magic / occult forces and the like" AU, though I don't know a great deal about Voiceplay's early days so bear with me).

Geoff: Half-demon, sort of. Not exactly "demon" as in "representative of Hell/linked to Satan", more "demon" as in "innate connections to a part of the Earth far, far below the surface, deep in the mantle, if not deeper". "Half-demon" is about the best description in the English language for him, even when considering many popular works of fantasy and myth

(Yeah I considered a few other options for what Geoff could possibly be, including a half-dragon/dragonborn, but his voice is much too smooth and clear imo to be typically reminiscent of a dragon (other than his growls and vocal fry), and some other people have already referred to him as a demon god/demon lord/etc, so yeah might as well. I'm putting my own spin on it though).

Geoff is still at least partially human, and just human enough that for the first three and a half decades or so of his life, he was able to almost fully suppress the non-human part of himself. Half-demon!Geoff, not fully knowing the meaning or implications of what he was, feared that the ground may one day swallow him up whole; the depths of the earth staking its claim once and for all. He took up pole-vaulting in high school [true], and had aspirations of being a rock tenor [also true] - hitting high notes in songs and soaring over beams many feet in the air made it easier to ignore the faint occasional rumbles from far below the ground that nobody else ever seemed to hear.

(I'll get back to Geoff in a minute, but lets start talking about...)

Layne: Extra-terrestrial being, for sure, though not quite a stereotypical alien per se. In this AU, Layne started off as a vaguely-animal-shaped collection of cells (or the celestial/outer space equivalent anyway) that crash-landed on Earth via a small asteroid and took on the (main/primary) form of a human.

(And just for funsies, let's say that "Layne" was what TV Tropes would call a Line-Of-Sight Alias after seeing a street sign. He was originally "Lane", but someone once stuck a Y in the middle of it while writing it down and he chose to keep it that way).

Layne and Geoff became friends in middle school [true], both sensing there was a notable uniqueness about the other.

I'm a bit hazy on the origins of Voiceplay (or rather, 4:2:Five, as it was first named), it's been a while since I've watched/listened to some of the interviews Geoff has done where he talks a little about it, and I can't be bothered doing too much research/recollection for a random fun AU idea, so I'm playing a little fast and loose with details here.

Layne, now attending high school with Geoff [true I think?] was inspired to create an acapella group [I'm fairly sure it was at least partially his idea but don't @ me] not too long after first learning about them and hearing some examples of acapella performances. The idea that humans could create music without any typical instrumentation and be just as enjoyable (if not more?) as someone singing with a band was fascinating to him, and he was very keen to try it out for himself.

Geoff meanwhile was spending his time learning the oboe [true, iirc], and wasn't fully keen on the idea at first, especially when Layne asked him to be the bass singer for it, but the two were[/are] best friends, and it didn't take too long for Layne to convince him.

Layne started off as the baritone of the group [true], and a beatboxer wasn't added till a little later after the group's inception, after Layne was further inspired by the group Rockapella [also true, except idk who originally had the idea to add a beatboxer (that's why they were called 4:2:Five btw - they started out as basically a barbershop quartet, but then added a fifth member for vocal percussion)]

This is starting to get quite long, even for a Read More imo, so I'm making a separate post for part 2. And yes, Eli will get included as well!

#Voiceplay #Voiceplay AU #Voiceplay Not-Fully-Human AU #Geoff Castellucci #Layne Stein #Fanfic-adjacent #acaplaya writings

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tsrookie · 4 years

Text

Alright, so today’s the three-year anniversary of Reputation a.k.a the greatest album of all time, my baby, the light of my life, the album that deserved a Grammy (trying desperately not to think about the scene from Miss Americana😭), the album that introduced us to the most beautiful couple ever, the album that shut Kimye up, and I better stop now, or else I’m not gonna shut up.

So in honour of this momentous occasion (and the fact that I reached 200+ followers! Thank you so much you guys!🥺 Love you all 3000💙), here’s a loooooong post on why Reputation is the Ethan and MC album.

1. ...Ready For It?

No one has to know

Throwback to MC saying the exact same words back in Miami.

In the middle of the night, in my dreams

You should see the things we do, baby, mmm

In the middle of the night, in my dreams

I know I'm gonna be with you

So I take my time

Remember back when MC asked for Ethan to get into bed right away during their first time? Ethan told them that he had dreamt about the moment for months, so he wasn’t going to rush it.

2. End Game

Big reputation, big reputation

Ooh you and me would be a big conversation

These two dating would be the talk of the hospital, and they know it.

Even when we'd argue, we don't do it for long

And you understand the good and bad, end up in the song

For all your beautiful traits, and the way you do it with ease

For all my flaws, paranoia, and insecurities

Think these lines are pretty self-explanatory😌

I hit you like bang

We tried to forget it, but we just couldn't

*gets war flashbacks of the ‘reset’ phase*😭 They tried to make it work, but we all know how Ch 8 of book 2 went😌

I swear I don't love the drama, it loves me

Perfect for our chaotic MC😌

3. Don’t Blame Me

Do I... really have to explain this one?

For you, I would cross the line

I would waste my time

I would lose my mind

They say she's gone too far this time

Do we need a recap of our rule-breaking MC?

And baby, for you, I would fall from grace

Just to touch your face

If you walk away

I'd beg you on my knees to stay

He was willing to risk his (mostly) rule-abiding reputation for being with MC. And there’s no way he wouldn’t beg for MC not to leave him if he ever screwed up🤷‍♀️

4. Delicate

This ain't for the best

My reputation's never been worse, so

You must like me for me

Ethan stood by MC’s side throughout the Ethics hearing, when her reputation was completely smeared, and people only saw her as a patient murderer. He didn’t know about the sabotages, but he would’ve definitely supported her if he had known.

We can't make

Any promises now, can we, babe?

Commitment-phobia🙃

Sometimes I wonder when you sleep

Are you ever dreaming of me?

Sometimes when I look into your eyes

I pretend you're mine, all the damn time

They spent so much of time apart, not able to be with each other, so the least they could do was dream of being with each other all the time.

5. So It Goes (an underrated af bop)

What can I say... it’s a sex song, okay? Don’t make me go into the details😂 Just listen to the lyrics, and all will be clear.

6. Gorgeous (Tumblr won’t let me put any more links)

MC’s eternal anthem to Ethan.

Whisky on ice, Sunset and Vine

You've ruined my life, by not being mine

We all know Ethan loves Whiskey, and the second line? C’mon!

You're so gorgeous

I can't say anything to your face

'Cause look at your face

And I'm so furious

At you for making me feel this way

But, what can I say?

You're gorgeous

Ethan Ramsey is famous for two reasons. One: his smart brain, I guess😒 Two: HIS LOOKS!!! HE’S GORGEOUS, AND DON’T DENY IT.

And you should think about the consequence

Of you touching my hand in the darkened room (dark room, dark room)

Ah, the olden days of hand holding in the diagnostics office🥺

Ocean blue eyes looking in mine

I feel like I might sink and drown and die

No explanation required.

You make me so happy, it turns back to sad, yeah

There's nothing I hate more than what I can't have

You are so gorgeous it makes me so mad

The wonderful will-they-won’t-they saga. The frustrating hot-and-cold behaviour. The ‘We can’t’, ‘It’s unethical’ and ‘It’s complicated’. MC deserves an award for her patience😓

7. King Of My Heart

I'm perfectly fine, I live on my own

I made up on my mind, I'm better off bein' alone

Ethan ‘I don’t believe in soulmates and nobody’s waiting at home’ Ramsey.

And all at once, you are the one I have been waiting for

King of my heart, body and soul, ooh whoa

And all at once, you are all I want, I'll never let you go

King of my heart, body and soul, ooh whoa

This could be from both Ethan and MC’s perspectives. The love they share isn’t something that you get easily. It’s something that MC has waited for her whole life, and something Ethan never knew he needed, but now can’t live without🥺

Late in the night, the city's asleep

Your love is a secret I'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep

Change my priorities

The taste of your lips is my idea of luxury

This was definitely Ethan throughout book 2, after he finally gave in. He let go of his previous rules and regulations, especially during the time of the attack. He was clearly affected, and once MC was alright, his main priority was her, and her alone.

Is the end of all the endings?

My broken bones are mending

With all these nights we're spending

Ethan’s been burnt a lot in the past. But all those wounds are now healing thanks to MC.

Up on the roof with a school girl crush

Drinking beer out of plastic cups

They act like lovesick teenagers around each other, like, that’s literally their description if you choose to kiss Ethan for the first time in Chapter 14 of book 2!😅

Say you fancy me, not fancy stuff

Baby, all at once, this is enough

We all know about his initial fear of his mother reaching out to him for the sake of his money. To him, MC not talking advantage of him is a pretty big deal, even though it’s never mentioned. You just know, you know?🥺

8. Dancing With Our Hands Tied

My, my love had been frozen

Deep blue, but you painted me golden

Again, Ethan doesn’t have the best experience with love. But MC changed that.

I'm a mess, but I'm the mess that you wanted

This could go both ways, cause they’re both piping hot messes😬 (but love each other anyway🥺)

The rest of this song could have made so much more sense for them if we had gotten some sort of a secret relationship storyline. But oh well, I’m definitely not complaining about the gala😌 (and definitely not believing any of the supposed cancelled storylines)

9. Dress

Our secret moments

In a crowded room

They got no idea

About me and you

I mean... pretty obvious😌

Even in my worst times, you could see the best of me

And I woke up just in time

Now I wake up by your side

My one and only, my lifeline

This is practically Ethan’s train of thought, and you can’t convince me otherwise.

As for the rest of the steamier lyrics... I’ll um... let you guys listen to it yourselves😁

10. Call It What You Want

I wrote an entire fic inspired by this song, so excuse me for the shameless self-promo, but go give it a read?🥺👉👈(totally fine if you don’t! I’ve probably made so many posts about this song that y’all know the meaning anyway😅)

11. New Years Day

Don't read the last page

But I stay when you're lost and I'm scared and you're turning away

I want your midnights

But I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day

MC has always stayed by Ethan’s side, even when he’s pushed her away. These lines perfectly explain how she wants his worst times, and his best, the midnights they spend staying up together, and the moments where it’s just the two of them, when everyone else has left, like the aftermath of a New Years party (still mad at the fact that we didn’t get to see the gang celebrate New Year together😭)

I'll be there if you're the toast of the town babe

Or if you strike out and you're crawling home

The above explanation for these lines as well.

Please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere

Becoming strangers to each other would be their worst nightmares. Knowing that the other was out there in the world somewhere, but not being in their lives would kill them.

You and me forevermore

These two are each other’s soulmate, they know it, even if they haven’t said it yet. Forever wouldn’t be enough for them to shower each other with they love they hold for each other. But it’s a good start.

——————————

If you guys made it this far, then I honestly love you more than words can ever express🥺💙 Thanks for putting up with my Swiftie-Directioner-Ethan stan ass, cause I dunno if I’d ever be able to handle someone like myself. And if you read all the above stuff, then I hope you wanna know why this album means so much to me.

Reputation is perceived as a dark album, when in reality it’s truly about finding love amongst all the noise. This album, and Taylor and Joe’s story, taught me what true love actually is, and Ethan and MC cemented that. This album and these two couples (quite literally) saved my life.

The most beautiful part about both these relationships is that even though they never showed it openly, for the sake of their relationships, both Ethan(in the story) and Joe stood by the side of the one’s they loved, despite half of the people who they knew hating on them, or betraying them. And I think that’s what’s truly important. Forming a true relationship like that, be it platonic or romantic, is long lasting, and I hope everyone finds those kind of people to fill their hearts with. Sending much love, and sorry for being a huge sap😅💙

Tagging a couple of my Swiftie homies: @swiftlydarcy @nikki-2406 @dxnicaramsey @kaavyaethanramsey @caseyvalentineramsey @drariellevalentine @justanotherrookie

#open heart #open heart second year #dr ethan ramsey x mc #ethan jonah ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #mercy goes nuts #happy three years of Reputation🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤#ethan ramsey

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atinyidea · 5 years

Text

Glitch | Ateez Gang! AU | FIVE

⟶ gang!au, hacker!au, love triangle? poly? female!original character

How curious it is, the fact that the police just gave a media conference, confirming ATZ’s involvement in Kyungri’s families newly-appointed murder, just as she sat down for her best friend, Jaehyeon, to be tattooed by one of the gang members?

⟶ glitch ml! main ml!

⟶ prologue | previous | next

⟶ note! @bri-ne @atinyluna @iis4d @untainted-memories @thegirlwiththedorkydad !! if anyone wants to be on a tag list for this fic just let me know!

⟶ 2983 words

⟶ edited 08.03.2020

FIVE: Warning Signs, Colour Change And The Text

SAN, KQ HEADQUARTERS

Sunday 26 October 2025, 03:25

What was he doing? He was practically slamming his own head against a wall numerous times. Why was it now that he turned into a teenager again, stumbling over himself about a girl? San felt like he was sixteen again, about to tell the first person he liked that he actually liked them. He felt weird.

He felt old, thinking about his sixteen-year-old self, nine years ago. He released a sigh from his lips, looking up at his room’s ceiling. He was practically hanging off the edge of his sofa bed (because when he was younger, he was too edgy for a standard bed and now he was older he was too lazy and sentimental to get rid of it) as he contemplated actually sending the text or not.

With a groan as he sat up, rubbing his face with a hand as his other hand played around with his phone. He was twenty-five now. He shouldn’t be so worked up about a stupid text. He’d done it so many (not that many) times before so why was he concerned over this?

Then he remembered who exactly he would be texting, and he groaned again, flopping back on the bed.

He’d be texting Pyo Kyungri. The girl whose laptop he had placed a bug on not even twenty-four hours ago. The girl who had sent Hongjoong into a small frenzy after she had found two of their gang members as quickly as she did – or maybe he was in a frenzy because she found them on a police file? – and they had spent the next few hours investigating her. When he and Yeosang had heard she was a hacker – right from the source herself – their little plan was more than needed.

San had thanked his lucky stars that the events unfolded as they did, it had made his job so much easier – to plant the bug while Kyungri had excused herself to the bathroom and her friend, whose name he hadn’t actually learnt yet, had been called by her boss to teach Yeosang how to work a coffee machine.

It had been easy. And now San stared his phone, her number already saved, the text already typed and ready to be sent. San couldn’t help himself, he was curious by nature. It didn’t help that she was, in fact, as pretty as her friend had said.

“She’s pretty too, don’t you think? Do you think she’s pretty?” She rested her head in her palms, her gaze lever leaving him. “She’s single too, there’d be no competition to win her over or anything.” San hadn’t meant to let his imagination get the best of him – “Pretty, smart and single. She’s a triple threat right, everything you could need right. Do you like pretty smart girls? Pretty, smart girls? I reckon you’d look great together! I mean, you’re just sat next to each other, and I’m already being attacked by the visuals! Think of the children!” – but the only reason he had blushed was that he had indeed let his imagination get the best of him. He assumed that was one of the reasons why he was so caught up in his head.

San could feel himself blushing as he thought back to the words of the orange-haired girl but shook his head to get rid of the feeling like he was physically shaking the blush from his cheeks. He didn’t know why he was blushing. Blushing! Of all things!

It was times like these that he would have gone to Wooyoung, or Mingi, to try and figure out exactly where his head was. His members, his best friends, always knew how to help him clear his mind – especially when his curiosity got the best of him and created a confusing, jumbled mess of his thoughts. But Wooyoung had been away since last night, given the task of the arms deal, so he hadn’t even been home to be told about Kyungri and her impressive hacker skills, and Mingi was most likely asleep. San wouldn’t want to wake sleep-deprived younger man anyway – even if he did want to, he wouldn’t. Waking Mingi up was like antagonising a bear or something. San wasn’t looking to get mauled because he couldn’t work up the courage to text a girl.

So, San did what he did best. He let himself be curious and finally (after twenty minutes) sent the damn text.

TO: Hacker Girl: Hey there, your overzealous orange-haired friend gave me your number, and I just got out of work so I thought it would be the best time to text in case I forgot in the morning and made the worst mistake of my life – gotta give Jaehyeon something to talk about, don’t we? 😉

THE LOFT

Sunday 26 October 2025, 03:27

“We are so incredibly screwed.”

Chaeyoung was sat on the floor, crossed legs dressed in a set of plaid pyjamas, a towel around her neck as she ate chicken while Kyungri was dying her hair. Kyungri, who had just had her first load of bleach put on, was also in a pair of pyjamas – these ones checked – hummed in agreement.

Gongmyung had passed out a half-hour ago, letting the girls get on with their hair knowing it would take a while. The girls had also decided to scrub through the recordings from their hidden cameras to gather as much information as possible, projecting the video onto the blank wall in front of them.

“So, so extremely screwed.”

“We’ll be fine, stay still,” Kyungri mumbled, pulling the dark brown dye through freshly bleached locks.

“We were seen, held conversation with and even taunted three of the most prolific members of NCT. They know my face! I got up in their faces!”

“Calm down, we weren’t talking to them for more than ten minutes tops. The only features they would really remember are your bright orange hair and your sickly-sweet voice. Which is not your usual voice and we are curren,tly changing your hair.”

“You weren’t looking at them Ri.” Chaeyoung’s voice was calmer now, the video paused on the faces of the three gang members they had spoken to just hours ago. “That red-haired one, Yuta, he hardly said anything. He was just looking at me. He’s definitely got my face committed to memory or something.”

“We don’t have to worry about it now okay, don’t get worked up about it today,” Kyungri told her softly, wanting to comfort her but not wanting to dismiss her fears either. Chaeyoung went to nod but refrained from moving her head, letting out a little hum in agreement as she un-paused the video. They were watching her footage.

She gasped a little, reaching to pause the video again, moving her body suddenly. Kyungri managed not to spill any hair dye when she did so. “Look!” Chaeyoung exclaimed, pointing. “Isn’t that Mr Lover boy from your fun escapade in X-Clusive?”

When Kyungri looked up, she too let out a gasp. Because Chaeyoung was right.

The image was slightly blurry, but his form was distinctive: silver hair, low cut shirt, an array of ear piercings.

“Oh shit.”

“Do you think he saw you?”

“I don’t know!”

“What are you going to do if he did?”

“Well, I'm currently bleaching my hair blonde so.”

The girls settled into silence once again as Kyungri tied up Chaeyoung’s hair and slipped off the gloves.

“Kyungri…” Chaeyoung started, voice low in volume. Kyungri hummed for her to continue, making her way to the bin, getting a piece of chicken on her way back. “Just, have a look at your laptop real quick.” Kyungri’s expression twisted to one of confusion, opening her mouth to ask why but stopping herself as soon as she spotted the serious look in Chaeyoung’s eyes. “I think it may need to be put on charge or something.”

Kyungri made her way over to the desk where her laptop was sat, right where she and Gongmyung had left it to carry out a longer hack. She bit into her piece of chicken as she lent down to take a look at it. Her chewing motion stopped for only a second as she noticed that the webcam light was on, directly recording anything it saw. She didn’t acknowledge it, nodding to herself and looking back to Chaeyoung, “yeah, I think I’m gonna let it sleep for a while.” She said, slamming the lid closed.

Once the lid was closed that the webcam was no longer filming them, Kyungri brought a finger to her lips when Chaeyoung opened her mouth to speak. She then motioned for her to wake Gongmyung up. They couldn’t make themselves any more suspicious, and they couldn’t be sure if the person hacked into her laptop hadn’t separately hacked into the laptop’s microphone. “How did it get this low?”

Chaeyoung did as instructed, shaking Gongmyung awake – “Where even is your charger?” – as Kyungri practically ran to her room to get a whiteboard and pen. She was back in the room in under a minute writing furiously on her whiteboard.

WE’VE BEEN BUGGED.

“It might be in the kitchen, can you check?” Kyungri asked, keeping up with the little act she and Chaeyoung had started. Chaeyoung indeed went to the kitchen, but not for the charger (because the laptop had been connected to the entire time) but for another one of Kyungri’s laptops.

Gongmyung opened his eyes with a groan, his words cut off by Kyungri’s hand before he could get them out. She held up the whiteboard for him to read, shouting back to Chaeyoung in the kitchen, “Can you grab me a coke or something while you're there?”

Chaeyoung came back with an empty glass, – “Here you go, one glass of coke and one laptop charger!” – swapping over the other laptop for the whiteboard. While Kyungri made sure all the files from the closed laptop were stored on the hard drive of the new laptop, Chaeyoung started writing on the whiteboard.

ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THIS?

Kyungri closed the new laptop and nodded.

Chaeyoung dropped the glass, the sound of it almost echoing through the loft. “Oh shit!”

Kyungri had picked up the old laptop and promptly hit it against the side of the wooden table as hard as she could and then proceeded to snap it in half to the best of her ability before letting it drop to the floor to become a new floor mat.

The three of them shred a glance, not wanting to speak in case it wasn’t just the laptop that had been hacked into. Gongmyung gently took the whiteboard from Chaeyoung’s grip.

I’LL GO RUN A SEARCH ON THE SERVERS.

Both girls simply nodded at the man, watching as he left to go downstairs before making their own way to the bathroom. As if the morning wasn’t crazy enough, Kyungri’s phone let out the familiar chime indicating a new text.

FROM: Unknown Number: Hey there, your overzealous orange-haired friend gave me your number, and I just got out of work so I thought it would be the best time to text in case I forgot in the morning and made the worst mistake of my life – gotta give Jaehyeon something to talk about, don’t we? 😉

FROM: Unknown Number: Uh, it’s San btw

Chaeyoung took one look at the text and let out a laugh, so loud, and powerful Kyungri was almost worried about her organs.

“Of course! Perfect timing MISTER SHADY BUT SURPRISINGLY HOT TATTOOIST!” Chaeyoung shouted at the phone.

“Are you… okay?” Kyungri asked tentatively.

Chaeyoung looked up at her with puppy-dog eyes that made her look like a child instead of an adult. “I think the fumes are getting to me. We should probably wash your bleach out now.”

“But what about the…” Kyungri motioned to her phone and then vaguely around the room.

Chaeyoung simply shrugged. “There isn’t anything electronic in the bathroom, it’s a safe haven.” She giggled, eyes widening at the sudden revelation before she grabbed Kyungri’s wrist and pulled her to the bathroom. “Plus it’s like almost four in the morning, he can’t expect you to reply instantly, let him think you’re sleeping.”

“But I’ve opened it, he’ll see that I’ve read it.”

“It’s your fault for putting read receipts on then.”

Kyungri grimaced a little but nodded in agreement anyway for Chaeyoung was correct, as per usual. “Help me!” She shined like a child, almost jumping up and down on the spot. She wasn’t sure why she was so worked up about it. It was just a text, she’d texted people before.

“Just reply.” Chaeyoung deadpanned, “But do it after I wash your hair out, it’ll burn your hair off if you leave it too long.”

“That’s a myth, and you know it,” Kyungri replied but knelt down to bend over into the shower anyway. It took just over fifteen minutes to get everything out, and when Kyungri straightened up, she was appreciative she could finally stretch her back again.

“I am so unbelievably grateful my mother is a hairdresser,” Chaeyoung mumbled, grabbing the pile of discarded foil strips and throwing them in the bathroom bin. “It’s always a good thing to know how to properly bleach someone’s hair. You look great, I don’t even think you’ll need a second coat.”

“I bless the world for your mother.”

“We still have to tone it though, get the orange ends out for good.”

“You’re good to me, but I thought we were cutting it?”

“Oh yeah!” Chaeyoung smiled, playfully flicking Kyungri’s own hair into her face. “We’ll still tone it anyway.”

A knock on the door started both girls a little. Chaeyoung let out a shallow laugh as Kyungri called out a small “come in,” watching as Gongmyung’s head popped around the door.

“They accessed one of the servers, I managed to lock them out, but whoever it was most likely knows where we are now.”

“Oh shit. We have to get out then. Like out of Seoul. Like out of Korea.” Chaeyoung rambled, getting louder as she continued. Kyungri placed a hand over her mouth, rubbing her other hand up and down Chaeyoung’s forearm in order to calm the younger girl down.

“We don’t have to leave Korea, we don’t even know who it was.”

“All the more reason to leave the country! What if it was NCT? Or ATZ? We’re gonna get shot in our sleep!”

Kyungri looked back up at Gongmyung to help her reassure a now crying Chaeyoung, but she was met with a serious and solemn expression. “It would be best if you probably weren’t in the country anymore.” He spoke slowly, moving more into the bathroom and closing the door behind him. “I can lead them away to another city, but if you took them overseas, they’ll be baffled for sure. It wouldn’t be more than a couple of days.” He concluded, taking out his phone to look at the next flights out of Seoul.

“We can’t just leave the country! We all have actual jobs to do, you know!”

“I’m your boss, think of it as a job.”

Kyungri had to admit, Gongmyung had a point there. Her eyes flickered back to Chaeyoung. “She has two other jobs, though.”

Chaeyoung gently removed Kyungri’s hand from her mouth. “Working at the hairdressers with my mum isn’t a real job –”

“You get paid for it.”

“– and my boss at the café can’t deny me the two weeks of paid leave I have built up!”

“We can’t leave the country!”

“Why not? It would both be safer for us and would scramble their was of getting to us!”

Kyungri was at a loss for words. Why couldn’t they leave the country for a few days? She shrugged to herself. “I’ll let my aunt know I have a long job and won’t be home for a couple of weeks then.”

Chaeyoung squealed.

“How’s Bora Bora sound?” Gongmyung asked, “the plane leaves in twenty hours, you can be done in under twenty hours, right?”

“I can have us done in two!” Chaeyoung grinned. “Just need a couple more minutes for my hair dye, and then we’re cutting Ri’s hair, but I can have bags packed for a couple of days in Bora Bora done in an hour!”

“Don’t rush yourself, get it done and get some sleep. I’ll buy you guys breakfast later.” Gongmyung smiled, purchasing tickets for Bora Bora there and then. “We need to be at the airport four hours before departure so maybe rush a little.” He said, promptly leaving.

They were going to Bora Bora.

“This is exciting! You might as well tell San you’re leaving the country! That’s a good way to start a conversation!” Chaeyoung winked before switching the shower on again to wash out her hair dye.

TO: Jaehyeon’s Crush: Sorry for the late reply! I’m just a little busy trying to get everything together before I can head for the airport hehe ^.^

Kyungri practically slapped herself in the face after the text was sent. Hehe? What the fuck was that? She was so incredibly fucked.

TO: Jaehyeon’s Crush: I might not be available in a while, so apologies in advance!

Things were getting worse.

TO: Jaehyeon’s Crush: but wow you finished late then!

That was better.

“Hey!” Chaeyoung shouted from under the water. “Stop texting your tattooist boyfriend and be a good person and help me with my hair!”

Kyungri shook her head with a smile before locking her phone, putting it on the floor (subsequently the big mistake of the day) before making her way to Chaeyoung who let go of the shower hose and left them in a drenched bathroom.

Her phone was going to need some rice, that was for sure.

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