open your mouth (shake your groove thang) for songsubin
recipient's username: songsubin
title: open your mouth (shake your groove thang)
pairing: Irene/Wendy
rating: NC-17
wordcount: 7k
warnings: reverse age order, hybrid/pet dynamics
summary: Wendy is the sun on stage, and Irene needs a job.
author's note: so...this became...not a stripper thing and more of a burlesque type deal? but I hope you enjoy it anyway~~
“Alright, darling," the owner of FurYou! says, stroking her fingers through Irene's hair. "This is your last chance."
"But Mama," Irene complains. She knows Mrs. Lee is not her actual mother (the woman's distinct lack of ears and a tail is enough to make that painfully clear), but Mrs. Lee is also the only woman that Irene has ever had raise her.
It's a little different from having a childhood and having a parent like the little girls and boys who wander into the shop with their parents. But Irene doesn't really know the difference; she's a pet, born and raised for the purpose of being someone's companion and friend and, well, pet.
Frankly, she's been praised all of her life for her good looks and her short black fur on her ears that were always just a little over sized on her head. Most people called it cute, but most people also never made a move to purchase Irene.
And she's never really understood why?
"But what if they don't like me?" she whispers hurriedly at Mrs. Lee, hoping for a less terrifying answer than the one Irene is already familiar with hearing. Mrs. Lee shoots her a sad look, giving her a face that plainly tells the hybrid she is only hurting herself by asking again. "Mama," Irene whines, tugging at the owner's sleeve.
"You know the answer, kit," Mrs. Lee says. "You know what I have to say."
"Can't you figure out something else?" Irene nearly begs, and she opens her eyes as wide as she possibly can, sticking out her lower lip. Mrs. Lee shakes her off.
"You're too old for that, Irene," Mrs. Lee says sternly. "And you know the rules. That's my final answer." The rules, as Mrs. Lee continuously shoves in Irene's face, are as follows: a hybrid over the age of eighteen is not allowed to stay in a pet shop and use up government provided or volunteer provided funds. A hybrid cannot remain in the care of the shop either, even if he or she were to be living and working elsewhere: all contact must be discontinued. Mrs. Lee is not exactly the type of woman who Irene would describe as matronly or particularly loving, but she is the only caretaker Irene has ever known who has ever been any sort of constant. Hell, she was there when Irene suffered her first heat and her first period and when she wrote a god-awful poem about how being a hybrid just isn't fair because she has too suffer three woes: cat puberty, human puberty, and being family-less.
Irene wants to cry.
"Don't be upset yet, kit," Mrs. Lee says, resuming combing her fingers through Irene's hair. "You haven't met the yet. This could be your perfect and long awaited last chance." And then she pats Irene on the bum and sends her into the conference room.
"Good luck!" She whispers, and she sounds like she means it. Irene croses her fingers, praying for her last and lucky chance.
___
Irene slumps down in her little room, tucking her feet underneath her and wrapping her arms around herself. She wants to cry, and the burning behind her eyes is enough to let her succumb to her tears, but Mrs. Lee is standing in the doorway to her little dormer with her arms crossed and a frown drawn across her face.
"I take this to mean it did not go well?" Mrs. Lee asks. To Irene, it sounds more like an accusation.
"It was fine," she responds shakily, her voice coming out somewhere between a yowl and a sob. "It's just. They said I'm too old." She shakes her head and presses the heels of her hands against her eyes. "They said they wanted a playmate. Not a babysitter for their daughter." She looks up at Mrs. Lee.
"Am I that dull?" She implores, somewhere to begging. Mrs. Lee shakes her head.
"You're just not destined for a family I suppose, kit," she says. She no longer looks soft at all as she gestures to a small duffle bag in Irene's room. "So I suppose..." She trails off, but Irene can hear the rest of her words.
You're just destined for the streets.
___
The way the wind whistles through alleyways at night doesn't scare Irene, but it does tickle the sensitive fur around her ears in a fashion that sends shivers down her spine. Her overlarge ears have always been a little to sensitive, and that's something that her interviewers have always seemed a little put off by. She supposes now, as she walks through the crowded Saturday night streets with the jacket Mrs. Lee gave her wrapped around her shoulders, that it has something to do with the obsession owners seem to have with touching their hybrids' ears.
It's some sort of fantasy type thing, to want to pet your kitty's ears and have them mewl and curl into you. At least, that's what Irene thinks. She also thinks it's a bit disgusting, the way these cats and dogs act as if they are nothing more than their base animal counterparts. She's definitely okay with being on her own if that's the case. Irene wonders if she's always been just a little too independent, a little too ready to learn and to fight for her place and for respect. She wonders if maybe that's why no one ever really wanted her.
It still breaks her heart to think about Mrs. Lee and the chilled wind on the day after she turned eighteen.
"I'm sorry, kit," Mrs. Lee had said, and she hadn't sounded sorry at all. Irene had bit her lip and pretended she was fine to go out on her own with a mere 100,000 won in her pocket.
The money ran out on the second night. Irene is smart, at least she tells herself that is, and she hadn't bothered to try to stay somewhere the first night, instead believing that a hearty meal is what she needs.
She knows that food is expensive- well, she knows now, cup noodles in hand and a new scarf wrapped around her neck.
She turns a corner, and the faint trickle of deep bass music vibrates in her chest. Her ears perk up. She loves music.
The club she comes across is not a resputable place, that much she can tell. But the patrons walking in and out are dressed in fun clothes that make Irene glance at her own jeans and sweatshirt with disdain. The remaining 30,000 won in her pocket nearly tempts her to go shopping, to find the best deal for a skirt that cute, but her stomach and the empty bowl in her hand tells her that that decision would be nothing short of dumb.
She tosses the bowl in the trash, and steps past the club, walking through a line of people waiting outside. She only takes ten steps past the end of the line before she hears something like screaming.
It's girls squealing, and Irene wants to cover her and ears. But she's curious, and she is a cat after all. She steps into the back of the line.
"Wendy is performing tonight!" One of the teenagers half-screams half-cheers, and the others look impressed.
"Is she singing?" One says, and Irene's tail flicks behind her. She's never seen a singer.
"It's Wendy," the other says, and her smile is bright. She's a bit tall, and Irene glances down at her shoes. They're gorgeous, strappy things that are completely impractical, but Irene wants them. She wants the pretty sequined skirt the girl is wearing and she wants the pretty shirt she's got on too. The goosebumps on her arms and legs seem worth it, if she could be dressed like that.
"So that's a yes then," the one girl says, and Irene steps more firmly into line when the tall one nods. She hopes this line won't take long, She's excited.
It's twenty minutes before irene finds herself staring with wide eyes up a man with broad shoulders and serious eyes.
"ID?" He asks, holding out his hand. Irene scrambles for the papers stuffed in her pocket.
"Are you sure you're in the right place?" The man says to her, and she stutters out something that's not an excuse nor an explanation.
"Why?" She manages. The guy shrugs.
"You don't seem dressed for a club, is all," he says, and Irene pouts.
"But I-" She starts, holding out her papers like a peace offering. The guy glances through them, and he checks the bracelet on her wrist that says she's under government protection. He nods.
"Alright, cat girl," he grumbles. "Go on in." And Irene does.
The club is dim, and she feels that peculiar sensation of her eyes pulling into slits as they adjust to help her see clearer. She watches one of the girls that was in front of her in line trip over a chair, and Irene is, for once, grateful for her genes. Her actual jeans, however, she isn't. People glance over at her, notice the beanie and the scarf and the ratty pants and sigh at her. She's underdressed, she knows, her tail fluffing indignantly. They don't have to act like that, she sniffs to herself.
"You look lost," a voice says, and a hand land on Irene's shoulder. She gasps, scrambling backwards.
"Sorry1" She squeaks, flying out of the way, but the voice and the pretty girl attached to it just laugh.
"Hey, it's okay," she says. "I didn't mean to scare you. I should be the one apologizing." She holds out her hand.
"My name is Seulgi," she says.
"Irene," Irene stutters in response. Seulgi gives her a smile, and her ears, human ears, stick out cutely from the sides of her head. Irene blinks and pulls her hand away from the other woman's grasp.
"You're a hybrid, then?" Seulgi asks, her eyes roaming over the ears on the top of Irene's head. Irene subconsciously brings her hands up to cover them. Seulgi's eyes widen, and her smile slips from her face. "Sorry!" She adds. "I didn't mean to be offensive! I just don't see cats often working here and all. Most patrons don't exactly bring their pets here..." She trails out, glancing up at Irene sheepishly.
"Worker?" Irene asks, surprised. She glances at Suelgi's attire. It doesn't seem much different from the girls earlier in line, but she doesn't know much. Seulgi nods.
"I'm a dancer here," she answers. She tosses her hair over her shoulder. "Did you come for the show?"
"Umm," Irene responds, biting her lip. "I don't know? I came in because two girls were talking and I was curious?" Seulgi's eyebrows knit together.
"So you've never been here," she reiterates. Irene offers her a slight nod, her lips pursed in embarrassment.
"They said someone is singing," she says quietly. Seulgi's grin bursts out on her face again.
"That's great," she insists. "Wendy is great. You'll love it I'm sure." She takes Irene's hand and pulls her towards the bar.
"Your ears are sensitive, right?" She asks, waving at someone and leaning over the wooden counter. "You picked a good night. Wendy is seriously good."
Irene leans back, blinking at Seulgi. "How did you know my ears are sensitive?" She starts to lift her hands again to cover the cat ears. Since Seulgi mentioned it, she's now noticing just how many people are really in the room and just how many are hybrids- one. As in, Irene herself. She opens her mouth just slightly to test for others and notices nothing but ash of cigarettes and the sting of something sharp she's tasted only a few times before. Alcohol.
It's not a common thing in the shelters and the pet shops, but it does help the babies when they are teething to put brandy on your fingers and press the numbing liquid to their gums. Irene doesn't remember that far back, but she did take a few curious sips when she was trying to take care of the little ones in her teenage years.
She blinks, and a tear slips down her cheeks.
"Sorry!" Seulgi bursts out again. "I know, I shouldn't talk about you being a hybrid. I just. I'm curious?" A woman steps up from behind the bar, and her smile is absolutely blinding.
"What can I get for you, Seulgi?" She says. Her name tag flashes in the dim light. Joy, Irene reads. Seulgi blows her a kiss.
"A drink for my friend Irene," Seulgi says. "Something fruity. She's a first timer."
"Oh really?" Joy looks at Irene, giving her a solid once over. "That's great. We haven't been getting many newbies here. Mostly regulars- all dying to see Wendy." She grabs a clean glass.
"Strawberry daiquiri?" She directs the question at Irene, but Seulgi steps in to answer and affirmative.
"I like strawberry," Irene says softly. Joy grin practically splits her face.
"I make the best ones," she assures her. "Just don't drink it too quickly." Irene nods solemnly in understanding, and Joy winks at her, spinning around to head to the other end of the bar. Her headband slips out of her hair, and the bouncy curls on her head slip to the side a little. Irene gasps.
"A puppy?" She says. Seulgi laughs.
"Yep," she says. "I'm definitely familiar with those. Joy is the best. I'm going to leave you here with her, okay?" She gestures to the seat behind Irene, and after a blank moment, Irene clambers into the high stool, her beat up tennis shoes not looking nearly as pretty against the silver footstool as the girls in heels beside her.
"Where are you going?" She asks, gripping the bar tightly, suddenly unsure. Seulgi reaches up and pushes Irene's hair back out of her face.
"You look cuter with your hair out of your face," she says. Irene blushes.
"I'm going to go dance now," Seulgi says. "I'm back up for Wendy, but there are a few dance numbers before then. Cheer for me, okay?" She fixes Irene with a serious stare.
"And if anyone tries anything with you, just yell for Joy. She'll take care of it." And after Irene gives an affirmative nod, Seulgi bounces off. The air around Irene suddenly feels a lot more empty, and she fiddles with the sleeves of her jacket, refusing to take it off even though the air in here is too hot for the three layers she's wearing.
"Aren't you hot?" Joy says as she steps back up. Her arms are bare, and her headband is back in place. She holds out a glass with a fresh slice of strawberry and a few sprigs of what smells like mint stuck in the top.
"You're a puppy?" Irene asks, taking the offered drink and bringing it to her lips.
"Slowly!" Joy reminds her. "Yeah, I am. Reached eighteen and no one adopted me, so here I am." She gestures around. Irene takes a sip of the drink, and the sweetness reaches down to her toes, the slight burn of the drink sizzling pleasantly in her mouth. The ash in the air suddenly seems much less cloying.
"Me too," Irene says softly. Joy nods.
"I thought you-" She cuts off as someone shouts down the bar. Joy presses her fingers to Irene's wrist. "Hold that thought." She runs off to the other end, hands on her hips. She looks so tiny next to the guy leaning over the bar for her attention, but she's feisty, voice becoming more of a yap as she fights back against his words. Irene can't really hear much of the conversation, but it doesn't matter as the light in the place suddenly change, and the sound of cymbals crashes over the speakers.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," a voice starts. "And the few hybrids in attendance tonight. Welcome." Irene glances around, but she doesn't see anyone.
"It's a recording," Joy says, and Irene jumps, not expecting her to be back already.
"Tonight we have a special performance of our lovely dancers and the mysterious, ever powerful Wendy," the recording continues.
"So it's always a special performance then," Irene says, and Joy laughs.
"You're funny," she giggles. "And sharp. You must like reading." Irene wants to ask how Joy would know something like that from just a few words, but then she glances at the deep brown curly ears on her head, and she remembers that Joy lived in a pet shop just as Irene did.
"Please," the recording catches Irene's attention again. "Enjoy." The lights fade out, and then a single spot light comes up on stage, highlighting two girls with their arms hooded together, standing back to back. The music starts up again, and the girls move.
This, Irene, realizes, is the dancing she's read about in books. this, she thinks, is what her body wants to do when she hears the sweet ring of music. Her tail flicks side to side behind her with each twist and turn the girls make. Her body buzzes with excitement. This is so pretty, she realizes.
"Have you ever danced before?" Joy asks her when the first song quiets, and the two girls rush off stage. A new group steps on, and among them, Irene spots Seulgi. She cheers instantly.
"No," she says breathlessly. "I want to." Joy taps her chin.
"Hmm," she hums, and that's the end of the conversation, but Irene doesn't mind as she's drawn back into the sway of the music and the dancers' bodies, watching with rapt attention as they twist and turn, bodies graceful and fluid. The entire audience seems caught up in them, and Irene thinks the few that aren't are idiots.
This is amazing!
There's another change of song, and a girl in a long dress, the hem of it trailing on the floor and sparkling as the lights dance in the beading that runs along its lines and across contours of the wearer's body, steps up to the front of the stage. Irene notices something taped to the side of her face.
The music pauses.
"Well if you-" The girl opens her mouth, and the words are long and lilting, pretty as they rise above the music as it crests into a crescendo. Irene's ears twitch on her head, swiveling to face to the stage to take in as much sound as possible as this girl sings.
Irene thought she was captivated by the dancing. But this, this is so much better. Her heart races a little in her chest.
The girl is nothing short of beautiful, her notes powerful and slow as she sings about love and devotion and sweet wine before she quiets, and the music pauses.
"But," she breathes, and one of the dancers steps up behind her. The gorgeous dress falls to the ground, and the girl steps back.
"That's Wendy?" Irene asks Joy, eyes still fixed on the sudden abundance of pale skin on stage. It's moving art, she thinks.
"Yes," Joy says. "Isn't she amazing?"
"She's beautiful," Irene breathes. And it's not that Wendy is the best dancer, Suelgi's movements constantly sharper and a bit more expressive, her body her weapon of choice where Wendy's is her voice, but something about Wendy draws Irene's eye, her passion and her happiness on stage along with the red, red heart of her lips as she smiles or bites her lower lips and smirks at the audience has Irene absolutely hooked.
Her body is buzzing by the time the curtain closes, and Wendy's voice is still ringing in her ear.
"You don't have a place to stay, right?" Joy says. It takes a long moment for Irene to respond, barely realizing that someone had said something to her. She shakes her head in an attempt to clear it, but the action fails. Joy takes that as a 'no.' "C'mon, you can come back with me."
Irene's mouth opens in protest, her eyes wide with shock, but Joy shakes her head, cutting her off. "Us hybrids have to help each other out," she says. "Wait here. The others will be out soon to head home too."
"I-" Irene starts. Joy gives her a sharp look, and she quiets. "Alright. I'll just. Sit here."
She hums to herself for entertainment as she waits, glancing around the club and at the black curtain that leads to back to wherever Joy went. A little sign hanging over the enclosure says "Employees Only."
"Coming home with us tonight?" Seulgi's greets, voice suddenly more clear and distinct as she bounces up to Irene with the music quiet and the patrons at the club making their way out.
"You live with Joy?" Seulgi nods.
"Yes," she says. "There's Joy, Seungwan, and me to an apartment. Only two bedrooms though. You'll have to share with Wendy."
Irene's bites her lip. "Is that okay?" She murmurs, nervous. "I mean, I don't know her and i don't want to impose-" Seulgi laughs.
"No, I promise it's totally fine," she says.
"What's fine?" A new voice cuts in, and Irene's head snaps towards the new arrival to their conversation that her neck aches. It's Wendy.
Wendy.
Irene's heart pounds.
"Oh," she starts. "Umm. You're-" Seulgi's smile is big again, and she drops an arm over Wendy's shoulders.
"Irene," Seulgi starts. "This is Seungwan. Wendy is her stage name. She's awesome, right? I told you."
"Oh, get off me," Seungwan laughs, shoving Seulgi away. Seulgi swats at her in retaliation, and Seungwan whines. A loud laugh interrupts the two bickering women, and they stop, glancing up with slight annoyance on their features.
"Can't leave you two alone for a minute even with our new housemate here, I guess," Joy laughs. She in casual clothes now, her little puppy tail wagging behind her instead of hidden underneath her skirt. Slowly, a little more assured now that she's around another hybrid, Irene uncurls her tail from around her waist.
"Did you introduce yourself?" Joy continues, staring at Seungwan. The girl blushes and ducks her head.
"Ah, unnie," she says. "I think it's you who should be introducing us!" Joy rolls her eyes, but Irene can see she is perfectly fond of the two.
“Since we’re so mature around here,” Joy sighs, bopping Seungwan on the nose. “Seungwan, meet Irene. Irene, meet Seungwan. You two will be sharing a room for a little while, okay?” She smiles brightly, but the words carry a little tinge of authority born of being the eldest. Seungwan nods, flashing Irene a full smile with all teeth. Irene shrinks back, a blush rising on her cheeks.
“Don’t scare her!” Seulgi teases, grabbing onto Seungwan and jostling her jokingly. “Bad human!” Seungwan gives her an unimpressed expression.
“So,” Joy says, setting a gentle hand on Irene’s shoulder. “Are we all ready to go?”
And it is in that way, simple and unexpected, that Irene finds herself with a home for the first time in eighteen years. Walking with her arms twined with the other girls’, she smiles even as she doesn’t understand half of their inside jokes and isn’t sure how long this arrangement will last. For now, she’ll just take what she can get.
___
"You can sleep here," Seungwan says brightly, leading Irene into her room. Irene freezes instantly, her tail flicking nervously behind her. She takes in her surroundings, opens her mouth to test the air.
It's clean in here, if nothing else, and the decor is cute, friendly- done in warm colors with lots of pictures of the three girls. A few sheets of music are taped to the walls, and a lamp right beside them tells Irene that that's where Seungwan stands to practice for her stages.
The issue with the room, however, is the lack of bed space. That's not to say that Seungwan's bed isn't plenty large, it's just one. As in singular. As in, no space for Irene.
"Do you have blankets or something?" She says. "I can always- the couch, o-or the floor?" She twists her fingers together a little helplessly. Seungwan laughs, grabbing Irene's small backpack from her and dumping it in her desk chair.
"Don't be ridiculous," she says. "We're both girls, right? And the bed is far more comfortable." She pulls open a door and the scent of fresh clothes reaches Irene. She's suddenly finds herself with a shirt and pair of shorts in her hands.
"The bathroom is that way," Seungwan gestures back out down the hall to the left. "And you might need these." She drops a pair of panties, white with little pink bows over the hips, on top of the tiny bundle already in Irene's hands. "The towels are under the sink, okay?" Irene nods, mumbles something like a 'thank you' and darts out into the hall.
Around Seungwan, she feels...weird. Not unpleasant, but definitely drawn in- as if she were a paperclip and Seungwan were a magnet. Out here, away from the new friend's scent, she can suddenly think a bit clearer, and the reality that she is going to be sharing a bed- a bed!- with the most beautiful girl Irene has ever seen starts to sink in.
A shower is starting to sound like a really good idea.
___
Sleeping in the same bed as Seungwan is nothing like sleeping in her former, tiny but cozy room in the pet shop. For one, Seungwan moves a lot in her sleep, her hands constantly brushing over Irene's arms as she shifts around. Irene, frozen stiff, simply watches her with wide open eyes and revels in the warmth of her hands when they do linger for a moment on her skin. She takes a deep breath and inches closer to Seungwan, catching one of her hands and wrapping the other around her waist with bated breath.
She's not doing anything weird, she just can't sleep with Seungwan's thrashing. Seungwan jolts, and for a terrifying moment Irene thinks she's woken up the other woman, but it's merely Seungwan turning over, turning herself more comfortably in Irene's arms and throwing a leg over her hip. The blanket starts to slip, and Irene clutches onto it, holding it over them as if it can hide the fact that they're snuggled up together.
That's all they're doing, and Seungwan isn't even awake for it, Irene reminds herself. It's just cuddles. Yet, she shifts a bit closer, because Seungwan is so beautiful, and the little bit of glitter leftover from her performance caught at the corners of her eyes make her look like a fairy princess.
And Irene has never wanted anything more than a happy home for her fairy tail ending, and if this fairy princess could happen to be the one to bring that, Irene would be more than pleased.
___
Living with Joy unnie, Seulgi unnie, and Wendy unnie, the honorific being added on when the three told Irene point blank that she is not allowed to leave them, is both wonderfully blissful and a little bit stressful.
The bliss is easy to point out. Irene always has someone willing to scratch behind her ears or let her wrap the tip of her tail around their wrist or waist. She gets to sleep snuggled up with Seungwan every night ("I should have warned you I kick in my sleep!" Seungwan had laughed, ears red. Irene had awkwardly patted her shoulder. "You calmed down when I-" "Ah," Seungwan interrupts, and her smile is bright and blinding. "So that's what the snuggles were for. Cutie.") and gets to eat Joy's ridiculously delicious breakfasts if she wakes up before noon. By then, the others have turned the leftovers into lunch and Irene has to forage. She likes living here- she really does.
However, she also feels a bit like a bump on the log, being the only one who doesn't have a job or money. She stares hard at her lap, fisting the material of Seungwan's skirt in her hands.
"I want to work too," she announces one evening at dinner, completely interrupting whatever conversation they had been having. There's the slight clatter of chopsticks being set down. Joy clears her throat.
"Irene," she murmurs gently. "You know you don't have to. We three are happy to-"
"But I want one," Irene interjects. She has to resist the urge to stand and stomp her foot in an attempt to look menacing but realizes she is the shortest and least menacing out of her roommates. "I want to have a little extra money, too." She adds, glancing up at the other girls. They all look somewhere in between proud and nervous. There's a long silence, and Irene's tail starts to droop when the eldest unnie finally speaks up.
"She could work with me," Joy suggests. "I need another hand around the bar. The boss would probably-"
"Are you crazy?!" Seulgi interjects, jumping up. "Do you think our little Irene needs to have her evening taken over by drunk perverts who just want to picture her boobs.
"She can't dance with you!" Seungwan shouts next. "You would have her grinding against things and basically asking for men to drool over here!"
"What else then," Joy interupts, ears pointed a forward to show her displeasure. "I can't let her be just work anywhere outside of our stomping grounds. I want to keep an eye on her."
"Unnie," Irene tries, but the stern glare from Joy- a true contradiction on her bright face- quiets her. Seungwan turns to her suddenly, reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder.
“Match me,” she says, and she opens her mouth to let out a clear note that’s neither high nor low. It’s the type of note that sends shivers through Irene because it’s just so perfect, and her ears flick back and forth a few times before she shakes her head, getting a grip on herself before she opens her mouth.
Her voice shakes at first, her shoulders tense and mostly unsure of where to rest her tongue in her mouth, but the note is there, faint but accurate. Seungwan takes a breath.
“Seriously, Irene,” she encourages her. “Just sing. C’mon.” She hums another note, a few steps higher than the previous one, and Irene clears her throat, takes a deep breath, and opens her mouth to hum right along with her. She glances over at the other two who are smiling.
“Perfect, right?” Seungwan says, and Irene blushes, closing her mouth quickly and feeling her cheeks burn. “I know Boss has been looking for an opener.” She brushes her fingers through Irene’s hair. “She’ll never even have to leave the stage.”
Joy clucks her tongue on the roof of her mouth. "Holding a note isn't the same as singing," she says, a bit skeptical. Seulgi nudges her.
"It doesn't have to be amazing," she argues. "Since Wendy is the main act anyway. She just needs to be good, and with a face like that..." She trails out, and the room becomes Irene, Suelgi, and Seungwan staring at Joy with pushed out lower lips. Irene widens her eyes as much as possible. She isn't quite sure about this- singing on stage, being in the spotlight- but she does need a job, and she needs one as quickly as possible. She hates feeling like she's a second from being kicked out because her three roommates can't support her.
That would be just like the pet shop all over again, and Irene is certain her heart can't take that.
"I'll talk to the boss," Joy concedes, and Irene stares for a second in shock, her ears drawn back before a wide grin splits her face and she's throwing herself into Seungwan's arms.
"Thank you," she whispers against her neck. She looks up and over at Joy, repeating the sentiment to her earnestly. She holds onto Seungwan just a little tighter and purrs just a little when the woman strokes her perfectly manicured fingers down Irene's back lightly. She wraps her tail around Seungwan's wrist and breathes.
This is starting to feel like so much more than simply having a home and a loving family to take care of her. It feels a lot like having a love of her own. She glances up at Seungwan's wide smile that matches her own, and Irene has the strangest urge to press her own smile right up against the pink of Seungwan's lips.
___
It doesn't take much convincing to get the owner of the club to agree to let Irene audition for him, and it takes even less convincing after she does sing a little to get him to agree to hire her. After all, with three members of his staff in his office singing her praises, it'd be hard for any boss with an eye on as much money as possible to say no to a gorgeous kitten with cutely over large ears.
Irene finds out, soon after, that when the girls come back from rehearsal (minus Joy who bartends) complaining about how tired they are, they're not exaggerating one bit. But with her official debut in the club fast approaching, her first official time on stage less than 24 hours away, Irene can't get enough practice in.
A hand drops on her shoulder.
"Hey," Seungwan's voice interrupts her, and she tugs Irene away from the dummy microphone. "You need to take a break." She presses a water bottle with a slice of lemon inside into Irene's hands.
"I'm not tired, unnie," Irene argues, taking an obedient few gulps of the water anyway. The citrus is soothing, and she hums, pleased.
"You might not be," Seungwan concedes. "But your voice sure is."
"Is not!" Irene tries to say, but her light pitch scratches lower in her range than it should, the sound a little too rough, and Seungwan raises an eyebrow as if to say 'I told you so.'
"C'mon, kit," Seungwan says, throwing an arm over Irene's shoulder. "You finish that water and put on your coat. Then we'll head out." Irene pouts, but sags against Seungwan anyway out of the tiredness she can feel in her bones.
"Is it always this exhausting?" She asks when the two of them leave, waving goodbye to Joy who's taking inventory and Seulgi who's practicing her solo dance.
"You get used to it," Seungwan says, but it sounds an awful lot like a confirmation to Irene's question in her opinion. She sighs, and Seungwan's fingers scratch lightly behind her ears. Irene leans into the touch, comforted.
She can admit it freely to herself now, especially when she flicks off the lights and snuggles up to Seungwan in the older girl's bed, throwing a leg over her hip and her lips ever so lightly against the other woman's collar bones, that she really likes Seungwan. A lot.
___
It's a combination of gratitude, attraction, and adrenaline that finally drives Irene to wrap her tail around Seungwan's waist and throw her arms around her neck, breathing hard along her jaw and meeting her eyes with her own pupils blown wide.
The stage lights are hot when they flick on, and the cool metal of the mic stand against Irene's palms centers her on the music in her ear through the monitors facing her direction from just beneath the stage. She hears the whisper of her own breath through the speakers, and she hears Seungwan's advice in her head.
"Don't be scared," the older woman had whispered, her nose basically against the edge of Irene's pointed ear. "The only person who will know you mess up if you do will be you, so just own it. You can do this." She had squeezed Irene's hand and patted her butt to urge her up onto the stage. Her blood is still racing just a little too hot in her veins when she manages to spot Joy's encouraging smile through the blinding spotlight, and she opens her mouth to sing.
She's quiet at first, a little shaky, but she pictures Seungwan's proud gaze when she'd been hired, and she imagines the warmth of her body when she sleeps pressed right against her, and suddenly the words about love so sweet and beauty so divine are bursting from her throat.
She feels free as she sings, unable to stop herself from smiling hugely when she hears a cheer from the crowd gathered already inside the club, and she leans forward into the mic a little more, holding out her long ending note with her eyes closed, only opening them and swishing her tail behind her when the song cuts out.
Seungwan had told her it looks seductive when she does that, and Irene wants nothing more than hear such praise from the older woman.
She steps back, the hem of her skirt tight against her thighs as she bows. The lights go out, and Irene scurries off stage. She pants hard. For all of her practicing, nothing could have prepared her for the rush having an audience gives her. Her hands shake, and she laces them together to try to contain the energy in her body, but she finds herself bouncing on the balls of her feet anyway.
Arms wrap around her middle, and a chin settles in the dip of her shoulder. "I'm proud of you," Seungwan says. "You were amazing." The scent of the headlining singer is comforting, calm, and Irene spins in her grasp, her tail wrapping around Seungwan's waist to keep her close against the other woman, and her arms are thrown around her neck.
They're so close, and Irene knows Seungwan will have to go on stage soon, but her proximity to the other is skewing her judgement, and she holds tighter, feeling Seungwan's breath against her cheek.
"Unnie," Irene whispers. "You know I really..." She trails out, and the blush on her cheeks probably isn't even adding any color to the flush already there from her stint on stage, but Seungwan's hands trail up her sides, and Irene finds her voice again. "I really like you."
Seungwan cups her cheeks and leans in close, her warm hands settled along Irene's jaw. "Beautiful kit," Seungwan murmurs, her lips nearly brushing against Irene's with her words. "I was hoping you liked me too." Irene pops up on her toes just a little bit, and she doesn't really know what she's doing, but she presses her lips right up against Seungwan's and closes her eyes. It feels nice- more than nice, and Irene thinks she could easily become addicted to this feeling.
Irene leans in, arching her back as Seungwan's nails scratch down the exposed skin through her backless top, and Seungwan braces her against her body, her other hand buried in Irene's hair, holding her gently but tightly. She kisses her with something that makes Irene start to feel a little drunk even though she's had nothing but water (Seungwan's orders), and Irene whines a little bit, her body starting to feel hotter than the stage lights, arousal curling deliciously in her stomach.
Too soon, with one last swipe of her tongue against Irene's lips, Seungwan pulls back.
"Wait here," she says, making sure that Irene is study on her feet before she lets her go. Irene pouts, tempted to make grabby hands. "I have to sing," Seungwan continues. "And then I'm taking you home."
Irene's ears flick in agreement, and she settles down in one of the backstage chairs, shifting around to find a comfortable position that doesn't remind her of the flair of arousal still slipping through her veins. She thinks, for a short moment, that if she focuses completely on Seungwan's voice as she sings, that she'll be distracted from the sensation of want thrumming through her. The instant Seungwan comes in though, voice echoing over the backstage speakers, Irene has to press a fist to her mouth.
Her ears are too sensitive, and maybe it's just her imagination, but Seungwan, Wendy, sounds a little breathier than she usually does, as if someone has just kissed the breath right out of her. Irene bites her lip, smiling just a bit because she did that.
She adjusts herself again, crossing her legs and staring very hard at the floor, hoping that Seungwan will take her home before she runs out of patience and drags the older girl off the stage- performance be damned.
___
"Impatient kit," Seungwan laughs before she kisses Irene again, stumbling into the dark apartment. They had left the moment Seungwan tripped out of her her stage dress and into sweatpants and a hoodie, leaving Seulgi to more performances and Joy at the always busy bar. The quiet of the apartment is broken by their heavy breathing and the door slamming behind them as they kick off their shoes, arms tight around each other and fingers plucking at the hems of their shirts, only barely brushing against skin and shivering at the teasing senstation.
"I really like you," Irene breathes again between kisses, allowing Seungwan to lead her back towards her room. She can feel Seungwan's smile against her mouth.
"Like you too, Irene," Seungwan murmurs. "A lot." She spins, pulling Irene into their room and crowding her up against the door, the jam slipping into place with their combined weight. She slips a leg between Irene's thighs, and Irene gasps, her fingers curling tightly in the waves of Seungwan's hair.
"Oh," she whispers. "That's-" She rolls her hips forward experimentally, the damp fabric of her underwear against the soft, worn material of Seungwan's sweatpants, and her back bends, her head falling back against the door.
"Sensitive, aren't you," Seungwan says, her voice close to reverant, and she leans in again, capturing Irene's mouth, her tongue slipping past her lips to trace the roof of her mouth and the edges of her teeth. Irene whines.
"Please, unnie," she whispers, unsure what she's really saying please for but working her hips forward just slightly to get more of the feeling of Seungwan against her.
Seungwan's hands skate down her sides, and her fingers pull at the waist of her skirt. "Take this off," she orders, but she's already undoing the buttons herself, and Irene holds onto Seungwan's shoulders as she steps out of the garment. Seungwan's fingertips leave trails of fire on the insides of Irene's thighs as she drags her hands back up her body to pull her shirt over her head next.
"Love backless shirts," she tells Irene suddenly, and her palm is warm against her ribcage. "No bra." And with those words, she bends down to drop kisses across the tops of Irene's breasts, the hand not settled on her hip moving up to pinch lightly at one nipple, and Irene pants, her hips working forward.
"So perfect," Seungwan murmurs against her skin, and then the hand on her hip is gone, suddenly against the wet fabric of her panties, and Irene absolutely mewls. Seungwan tugs the fabric aside, her thin fingers dragging through Irene's folds, and Irene can't even find it in herself to be embarrassed about how wet she is.
"Oh," she says again when Seungwan slips one finger into her, pressing in with shallow movements that have Irene both on edge and desperate for more- too much and yet too little. With Seungwan's mouth preoccupied with her collarbones and chest, Irene has nothing to stop her calling out repeatedly, her lips parted and jaw slack as she breathes on a constant moan. She buries her hands in Seungwan's hair, tugging on the strands as the other woman slides a second finger in, scissoring the two and thumb pressed against Irene's clit.
Irene's back bends, and her knees threaten to give out, her hips working in circles to feel more of the sensation of Seungwan's fingers inside of her.
"Unnie," she pants. "Unnie." Her body feels coiled tight, waiting for that extra push. She pulls Seungwan back up to her height, drawing her into a kiss. Her back slams back against the door, and white explodes in her vision, her body writhing in Seungwan's hold as she comes.
"Fuck," Seungwan whispers, lips against the shell of Irene's ear, the melody of her voice soothing her as she comes down from her high. Irene giggles. She's never heard Seungwan curse before, but if the cause is how she looks during her orgasm, she supposes it's okay.
Seungwan pulls her hand away, readjusting Irene's underwear. She lifts her fingers up, covered in Irene's slick, and Irene reaches out without thinking, sucking Seungwan's fingers into her mouth and licking them clean.
"O my god," Seungwan breathes. "You-" She looks flushed, aroused, and Irene thinks if she was just given one mind-blowing orgasm, she ought to give one back.
"Can I-?" she asks timidly, starting to walk toward the bed on shaky legs, urging Seungwan to lie back with her legs spread.
"Anything you like," Seungwan whispers, voice tinged on desperate. Irene settles in between Seungwan's legs, tugging her sweatpants and underwear off before leaning down. Seungwan pinches the tips of her ears.
"You're perfect," she whispers, and Irene blushes even as she prepares to lean in and taste. She grins and licks a stripe up Seungwan's thigh.
"I like you a lot," she repeats for the nth time that night, and makes sure to the return to favor with her tongue and fingers.
___
"So," Joy says in the morning. "I made waffles, and I have strawberries for Seungwan and sardines for our favorite kitten to celebrate the happy couple." She sets down orange juice for both of them. "So congrats!"
Seulgi passes by them, dropping kisses on both of their cheeks. "Cuties," she says. Seungwan's face is bright red, embarrassment heating her skin.
"H-how...?" She tries to say, gulping hard and reaching out for Irene's hand.
"Don't leave your sweatshirt in the hall next time," Joy says, leaning over to ruffle Seungwan's hair. "And we won't know."
Seungwan screeches, but Irene, fingers laced with her new girlfriend's, just laughs. She's finally home.
title: open your mouth (shake your groove thang)
pairing: Irene/Wendy
rating: NC-17
wordcount: 7k
warnings: reverse age order, hybrid/pet dynamics
summary: Wendy is the sun on stage, and Irene needs a job.
author's note: so...this became...not a stripper thing and more of a burlesque type deal? but I hope you enjoy it anyway~~
“Alright, darling," the owner of FurYou! says, stroking her fingers through Irene's hair. "This is your last chance."
"But Mama," Irene complains. She knows Mrs. Lee is not her actual mother (the woman's distinct lack of ears and a tail is enough to make that painfully clear), but Mrs. Lee is also the only woman that Irene has ever had raise her.
It's a little different from having a childhood and having a parent like the little girls and boys who wander into the shop with their parents. But Irene doesn't really know the difference; she's a pet, born and raised for the purpose of being someone's companion and friend and, well, pet.
Frankly, she's been praised all of her life for her good looks and her short black fur on her ears that were always just a little over sized on her head. Most people called it cute, but most people also never made a move to purchase Irene.
And she's never really understood why?
"But what if they don't like me?" she whispers hurriedly at Mrs. Lee, hoping for a less terrifying answer than the one Irene is already familiar with hearing. Mrs. Lee shoots her a sad look, giving her a face that plainly tells the hybrid she is only hurting herself by asking again. "Mama," Irene whines, tugging at the owner's sleeve.
"You know the answer, kit," Mrs. Lee says. "You know what I have to say."
"Can't you figure out something else?" Irene nearly begs, and she opens her eyes as wide as she possibly can, sticking out her lower lip. Mrs. Lee shakes her off.
"You're too old for that, Irene," Mrs. Lee says sternly. "And you know the rules. That's my final answer." The rules, as Mrs. Lee continuously shoves in Irene's face, are as follows: a hybrid over the age of eighteen is not allowed to stay in a pet shop and use up government provided or volunteer provided funds. A hybrid cannot remain in the care of the shop either, even if he or she were to be living and working elsewhere: all contact must be discontinued. Mrs. Lee is not exactly the type of woman who Irene would describe as matronly or particularly loving, but she is the only caretaker Irene has ever known who has ever been any sort of constant. Hell, she was there when Irene suffered her first heat and her first period and when she wrote a god-awful poem about how being a hybrid just isn't fair because she has too suffer three woes: cat puberty, human puberty, and being family-less.
Irene wants to cry.
"Don't be upset yet, kit," Mrs. Lee says, resuming combing her fingers through Irene's hair. "You haven't met the yet. This could be your perfect and long awaited last chance." And then she pats Irene on the bum and sends her into the conference room.
"Good luck!" She whispers, and she sounds like she means it. Irene croses her fingers, praying for her last and lucky chance.
___
Irene slumps down in her little room, tucking her feet underneath her and wrapping her arms around herself. She wants to cry, and the burning behind her eyes is enough to let her succumb to her tears, but Mrs. Lee is standing in the doorway to her little dormer with her arms crossed and a frown drawn across her face.
"I take this to mean it did not go well?" Mrs. Lee asks. To Irene, it sounds more like an accusation.
"It was fine," she responds shakily, her voice coming out somewhere between a yowl and a sob. "It's just. They said I'm too old." She shakes her head and presses the heels of her hands against her eyes. "They said they wanted a playmate. Not a babysitter for their daughter." She looks up at Mrs. Lee.
"Am I that dull?" She implores, somewhere to begging. Mrs. Lee shakes her head.
"You're just not destined for a family I suppose, kit," she says. She no longer looks soft at all as she gestures to a small duffle bag in Irene's room. "So I suppose..." She trails off, but Irene can hear the rest of her words.
You're just destined for the streets.
___
The way the wind whistles through alleyways at night doesn't scare Irene, but it does tickle the sensitive fur around her ears in a fashion that sends shivers down her spine. Her overlarge ears have always been a little to sensitive, and that's something that her interviewers have always seemed a little put off by. She supposes now, as she walks through the crowded Saturday night streets with the jacket Mrs. Lee gave her wrapped around her shoulders, that it has something to do with the obsession owners seem to have with touching their hybrids' ears.
It's some sort of fantasy type thing, to want to pet your kitty's ears and have them mewl and curl into you. At least, that's what Irene thinks. She also thinks it's a bit disgusting, the way these cats and dogs act as if they are nothing more than their base animal counterparts. She's definitely okay with being on her own if that's the case. Irene wonders if she's always been just a little too independent, a little too ready to learn and to fight for her place and for respect. She wonders if maybe that's why no one ever really wanted her.
It still breaks her heart to think about Mrs. Lee and the chilled wind on the day after she turned eighteen.
"I'm sorry, kit," Mrs. Lee had said, and she hadn't sounded sorry at all. Irene had bit her lip and pretended she was fine to go out on her own with a mere 100,000 won in her pocket.
The money ran out on the second night. Irene is smart, at least she tells herself that is, and she hadn't bothered to try to stay somewhere the first night, instead believing that a hearty meal is what she needs.
She knows that food is expensive- well, she knows now, cup noodles in hand and a new scarf wrapped around her neck.
She turns a corner, and the faint trickle of deep bass music vibrates in her chest. Her ears perk up. She loves music.
The club she comes across is not a resputable place, that much she can tell. But the patrons walking in and out are dressed in fun clothes that make Irene glance at her own jeans and sweatshirt with disdain. The remaining 30,000 won in her pocket nearly tempts her to go shopping, to find the best deal for a skirt that cute, but her stomach and the empty bowl in her hand tells her that that decision would be nothing short of dumb.
She tosses the bowl in the trash, and steps past the club, walking through a line of people waiting outside. She only takes ten steps past the end of the line before she hears something like screaming.
It's girls squealing, and Irene wants to cover her and ears. But she's curious, and she is a cat after all. She steps into the back of the line.
"Wendy is performing tonight!" One of the teenagers half-screams half-cheers, and the others look impressed.
"Is she singing?" One says, and Irene's tail flicks behind her. She's never seen a singer.
"It's Wendy," the other says, and her smile is bright. She's a bit tall, and Irene glances down at her shoes. They're gorgeous, strappy things that are completely impractical, but Irene wants them. She wants the pretty sequined skirt the girl is wearing and she wants the pretty shirt she's got on too. The goosebumps on her arms and legs seem worth it, if she could be dressed like that.
"So that's a yes then," the one girl says, and Irene steps more firmly into line when the tall one nods. She hopes this line won't take long, She's excited.
It's twenty minutes before irene finds herself staring with wide eyes up a man with broad shoulders and serious eyes.
"ID?" He asks, holding out his hand. Irene scrambles for the papers stuffed in her pocket.
"Are you sure you're in the right place?" The man says to her, and she stutters out something that's not an excuse nor an explanation.
"Why?" She manages. The guy shrugs.
"You don't seem dressed for a club, is all," he says, and Irene pouts.
"But I-" She starts, holding out her papers like a peace offering. The guy glances through them, and he checks the bracelet on her wrist that says she's under government protection. He nods.
"Alright, cat girl," he grumbles. "Go on in." And Irene does.
The club is dim, and she feels that peculiar sensation of her eyes pulling into slits as they adjust to help her see clearer. She watches one of the girls that was in front of her in line trip over a chair, and Irene is, for once, grateful for her genes. Her actual jeans, however, she isn't. People glance over at her, notice the beanie and the scarf and the ratty pants and sigh at her. She's underdressed, she knows, her tail fluffing indignantly. They don't have to act like that, she sniffs to herself.
"You look lost," a voice says, and a hand land on Irene's shoulder. She gasps, scrambling backwards.
"Sorry1" She squeaks, flying out of the way, but the voice and the pretty girl attached to it just laugh.
"Hey, it's okay," she says. "I didn't mean to scare you. I should be the one apologizing." She holds out her hand.
"My name is Seulgi," she says.
"Irene," Irene stutters in response. Seulgi gives her a smile, and her ears, human ears, stick out cutely from the sides of her head. Irene blinks and pulls her hand away from the other woman's grasp.
"You're a hybrid, then?" Seulgi asks, her eyes roaming over the ears on the top of Irene's head. Irene subconsciously brings her hands up to cover them. Seulgi's eyes widen, and her smile slips from her face. "Sorry!" She adds. "I didn't mean to be offensive! I just don't see cats often working here and all. Most patrons don't exactly bring their pets here..." She trails out, glancing up at Irene sheepishly.
"Worker?" Irene asks, surprised. She glances at Suelgi's attire. It doesn't seem much different from the girls earlier in line, but she doesn't know much. Seulgi nods.
"I'm a dancer here," she answers. She tosses her hair over her shoulder. "Did you come for the show?"
"Umm," Irene responds, biting her lip. "I don't know? I came in because two girls were talking and I was curious?" Seulgi's eyebrows knit together.
"So you've never been here," she reiterates. Irene offers her a slight nod, her lips pursed in embarrassment.
"They said someone is singing," she says quietly. Seulgi's grin bursts out on her face again.
"That's great," she insists. "Wendy is great. You'll love it I'm sure." She takes Irene's hand and pulls her towards the bar.
"Your ears are sensitive, right?" She asks, waving at someone and leaning over the wooden counter. "You picked a good night. Wendy is seriously good."
Irene leans back, blinking at Seulgi. "How did you know my ears are sensitive?" She starts to lift her hands again to cover the cat ears. Since Seulgi mentioned it, she's now noticing just how many people are really in the room and just how many are hybrids- one. As in, Irene herself. She opens her mouth just slightly to test for others and notices nothing but ash of cigarettes and the sting of something sharp she's tasted only a few times before. Alcohol.
It's not a common thing in the shelters and the pet shops, but it does help the babies when they are teething to put brandy on your fingers and press the numbing liquid to their gums. Irene doesn't remember that far back, but she did take a few curious sips when she was trying to take care of the little ones in her teenage years.
She blinks, and a tear slips down her cheeks.
"Sorry!" Seulgi bursts out again. "I know, I shouldn't talk about you being a hybrid. I just. I'm curious?" A woman steps up from behind the bar, and her smile is absolutely blinding.
"What can I get for you, Seulgi?" She says. Her name tag flashes in the dim light. Joy, Irene reads. Seulgi blows her a kiss.
"A drink for my friend Irene," Seulgi says. "Something fruity. She's a first timer."
"Oh really?" Joy looks at Irene, giving her a solid once over. "That's great. We haven't been getting many newbies here. Mostly regulars- all dying to see Wendy." She grabs a clean glass.
"Strawberry daiquiri?" She directs the question at Irene, but Seulgi steps in to answer and affirmative.
"I like strawberry," Irene says softly. Joy grin practically splits her face.
"I make the best ones," she assures her. "Just don't drink it too quickly." Irene nods solemnly in understanding, and Joy winks at her, spinning around to head to the other end of the bar. Her headband slips out of her hair, and the bouncy curls on her head slip to the side a little. Irene gasps.
"A puppy?" She says. Seulgi laughs.
"Yep," she says. "I'm definitely familiar with those. Joy is the best. I'm going to leave you here with her, okay?" She gestures to the seat behind Irene, and after a blank moment, Irene clambers into the high stool, her beat up tennis shoes not looking nearly as pretty against the silver footstool as the girls in heels beside her.
"Where are you going?" She asks, gripping the bar tightly, suddenly unsure. Seulgi reaches up and pushes Irene's hair back out of her face.
"You look cuter with your hair out of your face," she says. Irene blushes.
"I'm going to go dance now," Seulgi says. "I'm back up for Wendy, but there are a few dance numbers before then. Cheer for me, okay?" She fixes Irene with a serious stare.
"And if anyone tries anything with you, just yell for Joy. She'll take care of it." And after Irene gives an affirmative nod, Seulgi bounces off. The air around Irene suddenly feels a lot more empty, and she fiddles with the sleeves of her jacket, refusing to take it off even though the air in here is too hot for the three layers she's wearing.
"Aren't you hot?" Joy says as she steps back up. Her arms are bare, and her headband is back in place. She holds out a glass with a fresh slice of strawberry and a few sprigs of what smells like mint stuck in the top.
"You're a puppy?" Irene asks, taking the offered drink and bringing it to her lips.
"Slowly!" Joy reminds her. "Yeah, I am. Reached eighteen and no one adopted me, so here I am." She gestures around. Irene takes a sip of the drink, and the sweetness reaches down to her toes, the slight burn of the drink sizzling pleasantly in her mouth. The ash in the air suddenly seems much less cloying.
"Me too," Irene says softly. Joy nods.
"I thought you-" She cuts off as someone shouts down the bar. Joy presses her fingers to Irene's wrist. "Hold that thought." She runs off to the other end, hands on her hips. She looks so tiny next to the guy leaning over the bar for her attention, but she's feisty, voice becoming more of a yap as she fights back against his words. Irene can't really hear much of the conversation, but it doesn't matter as the light in the place suddenly change, and the sound of cymbals crashes over the speakers.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," a voice starts. "And the few hybrids in attendance tonight. Welcome." Irene glances around, but she doesn't see anyone.
"It's a recording," Joy says, and Irene jumps, not expecting her to be back already.
"Tonight we have a special performance of our lovely dancers and the mysterious, ever powerful Wendy," the recording continues.
"So it's always a special performance then," Irene says, and Joy laughs.
"You're funny," she giggles. "And sharp. You must like reading." Irene wants to ask how Joy would know something like that from just a few words, but then she glances at the deep brown curly ears on her head, and she remembers that Joy lived in a pet shop just as Irene did.
"Please," the recording catches Irene's attention again. "Enjoy." The lights fade out, and then a single spot light comes up on stage, highlighting two girls with their arms hooded together, standing back to back. The music starts up again, and the girls move.
This, Irene, realizes, is the dancing she's read about in books. this, she thinks, is what her body wants to do when she hears the sweet ring of music. Her tail flicks side to side behind her with each twist and turn the girls make. Her body buzzes with excitement. This is so pretty, she realizes.
"Have you ever danced before?" Joy asks her when the first song quiets, and the two girls rush off stage. A new group steps on, and among them, Irene spots Seulgi. She cheers instantly.
"No," she says breathlessly. "I want to." Joy taps her chin.
"Hmm," she hums, and that's the end of the conversation, but Irene doesn't mind as she's drawn back into the sway of the music and the dancers' bodies, watching with rapt attention as they twist and turn, bodies graceful and fluid. The entire audience seems caught up in them, and Irene thinks the few that aren't are idiots.
This is amazing!
There's another change of song, and a girl in a long dress, the hem of it trailing on the floor and sparkling as the lights dance in the beading that runs along its lines and across contours of the wearer's body, steps up to the front of the stage. Irene notices something taped to the side of her face.
The music pauses.
"Well if you-" The girl opens her mouth, and the words are long and lilting, pretty as they rise above the music as it crests into a crescendo. Irene's ears twitch on her head, swiveling to face to the stage to take in as much sound as possible as this girl sings.
Irene thought she was captivated by the dancing. But this, this is so much better. Her heart races a little in her chest.
The girl is nothing short of beautiful, her notes powerful and slow as she sings about love and devotion and sweet wine before she quiets, and the music pauses.
"But," she breathes, and one of the dancers steps up behind her. The gorgeous dress falls to the ground, and the girl steps back.
"That's Wendy?" Irene asks Joy, eyes still fixed on the sudden abundance of pale skin on stage. It's moving art, she thinks.
"Yes," Joy says. "Isn't she amazing?"
"She's beautiful," Irene breathes. And it's not that Wendy is the best dancer, Suelgi's movements constantly sharper and a bit more expressive, her body her weapon of choice where Wendy's is her voice, but something about Wendy draws Irene's eye, her passion and her happiness on stage along with the red, red heart of her lips as she smiles or bites her lower lips and smirks at the audience has Irene absolutely hooked.
Her body is buzzing by the time the curtain closes, and Wendy's voice is still ringing in her ear.
"You don't have a place to stay, right?" Joy says. It takes a long moment for Irene to respond, barely realizing that someone had said something to her. She shakes her head in an attempt to clear it, but the action fails. Joy takes that as a 'no.' "C'mon, you can come back with me."
Irene's mouth opens in protest, her eyes wide with shock, but Joy shakes her head, cutting her off. "Us hybrids have to help each other out," she says. "Wait here. The others will be out soon to head home too."
"I-" Irene starts. Joy gives her a sharp look, and she quiets. "Alright. I'll just. Sit here."
She hums to herself for entertainment as she waits, glancing around the club and at the black curtain that leads to back to wherever Joy went. A little sign hanging over the enclosure says "Employees Only."
"Coming home with us tonight?" Seulgi's greets, voice suddenly more clear and distinct as she bounces up to Irene with the music quiet and the patrons at the club making their way out.
"You live with Joy?" Seulgi nods.
"Yes," she says. "There's Joy, Seungwan, and me to an apartment. Only two bedrooms though. You'll have to share with Wendy."
Irene's bites her lip. "Is that okay?" She murmurs, nervous. "I mean, I don't know her and i don't want to impose-" Seulgi laughs.
"No, I promise it's totally fine," she says.
"What's fine?" A new voice cuts in, and Irene's head snaps towards the new arrival to their conversation that her neck aches. It's Wendy.
Wendy.
Irene's heart pounds.
"Oh," she starts. "Umm. You're-" Seulgi's smile is big again, and she drops an arm over Wendy's shoulders.
"Irene," Seulgi starts. "This is Seungwan. Wendy is her stage name. She's awesome, right? I told you."
"Oh, get off me," Seungwan laughs, shoving Seulgi away. Seulgi swats at her in retaliation, and Seungwan whines. A loud laugh interrupts the two bickering women, and they stop, glancing up with slight annoyance on their features.
"Can't leave you two alone for a minute even with our new housemate here, I guess," Joy laughs. She in casual clothes now, her little puppy tail wagging behind her instead of hidden underneath her skirt. Slowly, a little more assured now that she's around another hybrid, Irene uncurls her tail from around her waist.
"Did you introduce yourself?" Joy continues, staring at Seungwan. The girl blushes and ducks her head.
"Ah, unnie," she says. "I think it's you who should be introducing us!" Joy rolls her eyes, but Irene can see she is perfectly fond of the two.
“Since we’re so mature around here,” Joy sighs, bopping Seungwan on the nose. “Seungwan, meet Irene. Irene, meet Seungwan. You two will be sharing a room for a little while, okay?” She smiles brightly, but the words carry a little tinge of authority born of being the eldest. Seungwan nods, flashing Irene a full smile with all teeth. Irene shrinks back, a blush rising on her cheeks.
“Don’t scare her!” Seulgi teases, grabbing onto Seungwan and jostling her jokingly. “Bad human!” Seungwan gives her an unimpressed expression.
“So,” Joy says, setting a gentle hand on Irene’s shoulder. “Are we all ready to go?”
And it is in that way, simple and unexpected, that Irene finds herself with a home for the first time in eighteen years. Walking with her arms twined with the other girls’, she smiles even as she doesn’t understand half of their inside jokes and isn’t sure how long this arrangement will last. For now, she’ll just take what she can get.
___
"You can sleep here," Seungwan says brightly, leading Irene into her room. Irene freezes instantly, her tail flicking nervously behind her. She takes in her surroundings, opens her mouth to test the air.
It's clean in here, if nothing else, and the decor is cute, friendly- done in warm colors with lots of pictures of the three girls. A few sheets of music are taped to the walls, and a lamp right beside them tells Irene that that's where Seungwan stands to practice for her stages.
The issue with the room, however, is the lack of bed space. That's not to say that Seungwan's bed isn't plenty large, it's just one. As in singular. As in, no space for Irene.
"Do you have blankets or something?" She says. "I can always- the couch, o-or the floor?" She twists her fingers together a little helplessly. Seungwan laughs, grabbing Irene's small backpack from her and dumping it in her desk chair.
"Don't be ridiculous," she says. "We're both girls, right? And the bed is far more comfortable." She pulls open a door and the scent of fresh clothes reaches Irene. She's suddenly finds herself with a shirt and pair of shorts in her hands.
"The bathroom is that way," Seungwan gestures back out down the hall to the left. "And you might need these." She drops a pair of panties, white with little pink bows over the hips, on top of the tiny bundle already in Irene's hands. "The towels are under the sink, okay?" Irene nods, mumbles something like a 'thank you' and darts out into the hall.
Around Seungwan, she feels...weird. Not unpleasant, but definitely drawn in- as if she were a paperclip and Seungwan were a magnet. Out here, away from the new friend's scent, she can suddenly think a bit clearer, and the reality that she is going to be sharing a bed- a bed!- with the most beautiful girl Irene has ever seen starts to sink in.
A shower is starting to sound like a really good idea.
___
Sleeping in the same bed as Seungwan is nothing like sleeping in her former, tiny but cozy room in the pet shop. For one, Seungwan moves a lot in her sleep, her hands constantly brushing over Irene's arms as she shifts around. Irene, frozen stiff, simply watches her with wide open eyes and revels in the warmth of her hands when they do linger for a moment on her skin. She takes a deep breath and inches closer to Seungwan, catching one of her hands and wrapping the other around her waist with bated breath.
She's not doing anything weird, she just can't sleep with Seungwan's thrashing. Seungwan jolts, and for a terrifying moment Irene thinks she's woken up the other woman, but it's merely Seungwan turning over, turning herself more comfortably in Irene's arms and throwing a leg over her hip. The blanket starts to slip, and Irene clutches onto it, holding it over them as if it can hide the fact that they're snuggled up together.
That's all they're doing, and Seungwan isn't even awake for it, Irene reminds herself. It's just cuddles. Yet, she shifts a bit closer, because Seungwan is so beautiful, and the little bit of glitter leftover from her performance caught at the corners of her eyes make her look like a fairy princess.
And Irene has never wanted anything more than a happy home for her fairy tail ending, and if this fairy princess could happen to be the one to bring that, Irene would be more than pleased.
___
Living with Joy unnie, Seulgi unnie, and Wendy unnie, the honorific being added on when the three told Irene point blank that she is not allowed to leave them, is both wonderfully blissful and a little bit stressful.
The bliss is easy to point out. Irene always has someone willing to scratch behind her ears or let her wrap the tip of her tail around their wrist or waist. She gets to sleep snuggled up with Seungwan every night ("I should have warned you I kick in my sleep!" Seungwan had laughed, ears red. Irene had awkwardly patted her shoulder. "You calmed down when I-" "Ah," Seungwan interrupts, and her smile is bright and blinding. "So that's what the snuggles were for. Cutie.") and gets to eat Joy's ridiculously delicious breakfasts if she wakes up before noon. By then, the others have turned the leftovers into lunch and Irene has to forage. She likes living here- she really does.
However, she also feels a bit like a bump on the log, being the only one who doesn't have a job or money. She stares hard at her lap, fisting the material of Seungwan's skirt in her hands.
"I want to work too," she announces one evening at dinner, completely interrupting whatever conversation they had been having. There's the slight clatter of chopsticks being set down. Joy clears her throat.
"Irene," she murmurs gently. "You know you don't have to. We three are happy to-"
"But I want one," Irene interjects. She has to resist the urge to stand and stomp her foot in an attempt to look menacing but realizes she is the shortest and least menacing out of her roommates. "I want to have a little extra money, too." She adds, glancing up at the other girls. They all look somewhere in between proud and nervous. There's a long silence, and Irene's tail starts to droop when the eldest unnie finally speaks up.
"She could work with me," Joy suggests. "I need another hand around the bar. The boss would probably-"
"Are you crazy?!" Seulgi interjects, jumping up. "Do you think our little Irene needs to have her evening taken over by drunk perverts who just want to picture her boobs.
"She can't dance with you!" Seungwan shouts next. "You would have her grinding against things and basically asking for men to drool over here!"
"What else then," Joy interupts, ears pointed a forward to show her displeasure. "I can't let her be just work anywhere outside of our stomping grounds. I want to keep an eye on her."
"Unnie," Irene tries, but the stern glare from Joy- a true contradiction on her bright face- quiets her. Seungwan turns to her suddenly, reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder.
“Match me,” she says, and she opens her mouth to let out a clear note that’s neither high nor low. It’s the type of note that sends shivers through Irene because it’s just so perfect, and her ears flick back and forth a few times before she shakes her head, getting a grip on herself before she opens her mouth.
Her voice shakes at first, her shoulders tense and mostly unsure of where to rest her tongue in her mouth, but the note is there, faint but accurate. Seungwan takes a breath.
“Seriously, Irene,” she encourages her. “Just sing. C’mon.” She hums another note, a few steps higher than the previous one, and Irene clears her throat, takes a deep breath, and opens her mouth to hum right along with her. She glances over at the other two who are smiling.
“Perfect, right?” Seungwan says, and Irene blushes, closing her mouth quickly and feeling her cheeks burn. “I know Boss has been looking for an opener.” She brushes her fingers through Irene’s hair. “She’ll never even have to leave the stage.”
Joy clucks her tongue on the roof of her mouth. "Holding a note isn't the same as singing," she says, a bit skeptical. Seulgi nudges her.
"It doesn't have to be amazing," she argues. "Since Wendy is the main act anyway. She just needs to be good, and with a face like that..." She trails out, and the room becomes Irene, Suelgi, and Seungwan staring at Joy with pushed out lower lips. Irene widens her eyes as much as possible. She isn't quite sure about this- singing on stage, being in the spotlight- but she does need a job, and she needs one as quickly as possible. She hates feeling like she's a second from being kicked out because her three roommates can't support her.
That would be just like the pet shop all over again, and Irene is certain her heart can't take that.
"I'll talk to the boss," Joy concedes, and Irene stares for a second in shock, her ears drawn back before a wide grin splits her face and she's throwing herself into Seungwan's arms.
"Thank you," she whispers against her neck. She looks up and over at Joy, repeating the sentiment to her earnestly. She holds onto Seungwan just a little tighter and purrs just a little when the woman strokes her perfectly manicured fingers down Irene's back lightly. She wraps her tail around Seungwan's wrist and breathes.
This is starting to feel like so much more than simply having a home and a loving family to take care of her. It feels a lot like having a love of her own. She glances up at Seungwan's wide smile that matches her own, and Irene has the strangest urge to press her own smile right up against the pink of Seungwan's lips.
___
It doesn't take much convincing to get the owner of the club to agree to let Irene audition for him, and it takes even less convincing after she does sing a little to get him to agree to hire her. After all, with three members of his staff in his office singing her praises, it'd be hard for any boss with an eye on as much money as possible to say no to a gorgeous kitten with cutely over large ears.
Irene finds out, soon after, that when the girls come back from rehearsal (minus Joy who bartends) complaining about how tired they are, they're not exaggerating one bit. But with her official debut in the club fast approaching, her first official time on stage less than 24 hours away, Irene can't get enough practice in.
A hand drops on her shoulder.
"Hey," Seungwan's voice interrupts her, and she tugs Irene away from the dummy microphone. "You need to take a break." She presses a water bottle with a slice of lemon inside into Irene's hands.
"I'm not tired, unnie," Irene argues, taking an obedient few gulps of the water anyway. The citrus is soothing, and she hums, pleased.
"You might not be," Seungwan concedes. "But your voice sure is."
"Is not!" Irene tries to say, but her light pitch scratches lower in her range than it should, the sound a little too rough, and Seungwan raises an eyebrow as if to say 'I told you so.'
"C'mon, kit," Seungwan says, throwing an arm over Irene's shoulder. "You finish that water and put on your coat. Then we'll head out." Irene pouts, but sags against Seungwan anyway out of the tiredness she can feel in her bones.
"Is it always this exhausting?" She asks when the two of them leave, waving goodbye to Joy who's taking inventory and Seulgi who's practicing her solo dance.
"You get used to it," Seungwan says, but it sounds an awful lot like a confirmation to Irene's question in her opinion. She sighs, and Seungwan's fingers scratch lightly behind her ears. Irene leans into the touch, comforted.
She can admit it freely to herself now, especially when she flicks off the lights and snuggles up to Seungwan in the older girl's bed, throwing a leg over her hip and her lips ever so lightly against the other woman's collar bones, that she really likes Seungwan. A lot.
___
It's a combination of gratitude, attraction, and adrenaline that finally drives Irene to wrap her tail around Seungwan's waist and throw her arms around her neck, breathing hard along her jaw and meeting her eyes with her own pupils blown wide.
The stage lights are hot when they flick on, and the cool metal of the mic stand against Irene's palms centers her on the music in her ear through the monitors facing her direction from just beneath the stage. She hears the whisper of her own breath through the speakers, and she hears Seungwan's advice in her head.
"Don't be scared," the older woman had whispered, her nose basically against the edge of Irene's pointed ear. "The only person who will know you mess up if you do will be you, so just own it. You can do this." She had squeezed Irene's hand and patted her butt to urge her up onto the stage. Her blood is still racing just a little too hot in her veins when she manages to spot Joy's encouraging smile through the blinding spotlight, and she opens her mouth to sing.
She's quiet at first, a little shaky, but she pictures Seungwan's proud gaze when she'd been hired, and she imagines the warmth of her body when she sleeps pressed right against her, and suddenly the words about love so sweet and beauty so divine are bursting from her throat.
She feels free as she sings, unable to stop herself from smiling hugely when she hears a cheer from the crowd gathered already inside the club, and she leans forward into the mic a little more, holding out her long ending note with her eyes closed, only opening them and swishing her tail behind her when the song cuts out.
Seungwan had told her it looks seductive when she does that, and Irene wants nothing more than hear such praise from the older woman.
She steps back, the hem of her skirt tight against her thighs as she bows. The lights go out, and Irene scurries off stage. She pants hard. For all of her practicing, nothing could have prepared her for the rush having an audience gives her. Her hands shake, and she laces them together to try to contain the energy in her body, but she finds herself bouncing on the balls of her feet anyway.
Arms wrap around her middle, and a chin settles in the dip of her shoulder. "I'm proud of you," Seungwan says. "You were amazing." The scent of the headlining singer is comforting, calm, and Irene spins in her grasp, her tail wrapping around Seungwan's waist to keep her close against the other woman, and her arms are thrown around her neck.
They're so close, and Irene knows Seungwan will have to go on stage soon, but her proximity to the other is skewing her judgement, and she holds tighter, feeling Seungwan's breath against her cheek.
"Unnie," Irene whispers. "You know I really..." She trails out, and the blush on her cheeks probably isn't even adding any color to the flush already there from her stint on stage, but Seungwan's hands trail up her sides, and Irene finds her voice again. "I really like you."
Seungwan cups her cheeks and leans in close, her warm hands settled along Irene's jaw. "Beautiful kit," Seungwan murmurs, her lips nearly brushing against Irene's with her words. "I was hoping you liked me too." Irene pops up on her toes just a little bit, and she doesn't really know what she's doing, but she presses her lips right up against Seungwan's and closes her eyes. It feels nice- more than nice, and Irene thinks she could easily become addicted to this feeling.
Irene leans in, arching her back as Seungwan's nails scratch down the exposed skin through her backless top, and Seungwan braces her against her body, her other hand buried in Irene's hair, holding her gently but tightly. She kisses her with something that makes Irene start to feel a little drunk even though she's had nothing but water (Seungwan's orders), and Irene whines a little bit, her body starting to feel hotter than the stage lights, arousal curling deliciously in her stomach.
Too soon, with one last swipe of her tongue against Irene's lips, Seungwan pulls back.
"Wait here," she says, making sure that Irene is study on her feet before she lets her go. Irene pouts, tempted to make grabby hands. "I have to sing," Seungwan continues. "And then I'm taking you home."
Irene's ears flick in agreement, and she settles down in one of the backstage chairs, shifting around to find a comfortable position that doesn't remind her of the flair of arousal still slipping through her veins. She thinks, for a short moment, that if she focuses completely on Seungwan's voice as she sings, that she'll be distracted from the sensation of want thrumming through her. The instant Seungwan comes in though, voice echoing over the backstage speakers, Irene has to press a fist to her mouth.
Her ears are too sensitive, and maybe it's just her imagination, but Seungwan, Wendy, sounds a little breathier than she usually does, as if someone has just kissed the breath right out of her. Irene bites her lip, smiling just a bit because she did that.
She adjusts herself again, crossing her legs and staring very hard at the floor, hoping that Seungwan will take her home before she runs out of patience and drags the older girl off the stage- performance be damned.
___
"Impatient kit," Seungwan laughs before she kisses Irene again, stumbling into the dark apartment. They had left the moment Seungwan tripped out of her her stage dress and into sweatpants and a hoodie, leaving Seulgi to more performances and Joy at the always busy bar. The quiet of the apartment is broken by their heavy breathing and the door slamming behind them as they kick off their shoes, arms tight around each other and fingers plucking at the hems of their shirts, only barely brushing against skin and shivering at the teasing senstation.
"I really like you," Irene breathes again between kisses, allowing Seungwan to lead her back towards her room. She can feel Seungwan's smile against her mouth.
"Like you too, Irene," Seungwan murmurs. "A lot." She spins, pulling Irene into their room and crowding her up against the door, the jam slipping into place with their combined weight. She slips a leg between Irene's thighs, and Irene gasps, her fingers curling tightly in the waves of Seungwan's hair.
"Oh," she whispers. "That's-" She rolls her hips forward experimentally, the damp fabric of her underwear against the soft, worn material of Seungwan's sweatpants, and her back bends, her head falling back against the door.
"Sensitive, aren't you," Seungwan says, her voice close to reverant, and she leans in again, capturing Irene's mouth, her tongue slipping past her lips to trace the roof of her mouth and the edges of her teeth. Irene whines.
"Please, unnie," she whispers, unsure what she's really saying please for but working her hips forward just slightly to get more of the feeling of Seungwan against her.
Seungwan's hands skate down her sides, and her fingers pull at the waist of her skirt. "Take this off," she orders, but she's already undoing the buttons herself, and Irene holds onto Seungwan's shoulders as she steps out of the garment. Seungwan's fingertips leave trails of fire on the insides of Irene's thighs as she drags her hands back up her body to pull her shirt over her head next.
"Love backless shirts," she tells Irene suddenly, and her palm is warm against her ribcage. "No bra." And with those words, she bends down to drop kisses across the tops of Irene's breasts, the hand not settled on her hip moving up to pinch lightly at one nipple, and Irene pants, her hips working forward.
"So perfect," Seungwan murmurs against her skin, and then the hand on her hip is gone, suddenly against the wet fabric of her panties, and Irene absolutely mewls. Seungwan tugs the fabric aside, her thin fingers dragging through Irene's folds, and Irene can't even find it in herself to be embarrassed about how wet she is.
"Oh," she says again when Seungwan slips one finger into her, pressing in with shallow movements that have Irene both on edge and desperate for more- too much and yet too little. With Seungwan's mouth preoccupied with her collarbones and chest, Irene has nothing to stop her calling out repeatedly, her lips parted and jaw slack as she breathes on a constant moan. She buries her hands in Seungwan's hair, tugging on the strands as the other woman slides a second finger in, scissoring the two and thumb pressed against Irene's clit.
Irene's back bends, and her knees threaten to give out, her hips working in circles to feel more of the sensation of Seungwan's fingers inside of her.
"Unnie," she pants. "Unnie." Her body feels coiled tight, waiting for that extra push. She pulls Seungwan back up to her height, drawing her into a kiss. Her back slams back against the door, and white explodes in her vision, her body writhing in Seungwan's hold as she comes.
"Fuck," Seungwan whispers, lips against the shell of Irene's ear, the melody of her voice soothing her as she comes down from her high. Irene giggles. She's never heard Seungwan curse before, but if the cause is how she looks during her orgasm, she supposes it's okay.
Seungwan pulls her hand away, readjusting Irene's underwear. She lifts her fingers up, covered in Irene's slick, and Irene reaches out without thinking, sucking Seungwan's fingers into her mouth and licking them clean.
"O my god," Seungwan breathes. "You-" She looks flushed, aroused, and Irene thinks if she was just given one mind-blowing orgasm, she ought to give one back.
"Can I-?" she asks timidly, starting to walk toward the bed on shaky legs, urging Seungwan to lie back with her legs spread.
"Anything you like," Seungwan whispers, voice tinged on desperate. Irene settles in between Seungwan's legs, tugging her sweatpants and underwear off before leaning down. Seungwan pinches the tips of her ears.
"You're perfect," she whispers, and Irene blushes even as she prepares to lean in and taste. She grins and licks a stripe up Seungwan's thigh.
"I like you a lot," she repeats for the nth time that night, and makes sure to the return to favor with her tongue and fingers.
___
"So," Joy says in the morning. "I made waffles, and I have strawberries for Seungwan and sardines for our favorite kitten to celebrate the happy couple." She sets down orange juice for both of them. "So congrats!"
Seulgi passes by them, dropping kisses on both of their cheeks. "Cuties," she says. Seungwan's face is bright red, embarrassment heating her skin.
"H-how...?" She tries to say, gulping hard and reaching out for Irene's hand.
"Don't leave your sweatshirt in the hall next time," Joy says, leaning over to ruffle Seungwan's hair. "And we won't know."
Seungwan screeches, but Irene, fingers laced with her new girlfriend's, just laughs. She's finally home.