#(... yes it's the lake scene yes you're welcome)
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inside by disruptedthesky / @omar-rudeberg
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: ~4k
Summary:
“Will you let me?” Wilhelm pants into Simon’s ear. “One more time—”
“Yes,” Simon groans his response before Wilhelm’s even got the whole question out.
(Wilhelm and Simon make the most of their ‘one last night together’, that leads them to the lake.)
(Read on AO3)
#young royals#young royals fanfiction#wilmon#wilmon fanfiction#young royals season 3#yr season 3#wilhelm x simon#mine#disruptedthesky#(... yes it's the lake scene yes you're welcome)
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This was what I originally thought was going to happen as I was watching the exorcist scene. Had planned to write this as a fic but don't think I've got the energy.
-
Everything is the same up until the exorcism. Only when Alison gets down there, she sees the ghosts all stood in front of the Vicar, frozen as he speaks. They shout at her that they can't move. Alison tries to tell him to stop but Betty encourages it to continue. Alison slaps the Bible out of his hands but its too late - a bright light shines down on the ghosts, blinding Alison for a few seconds, then when she opens her eyes they're gone.
Panicking, she begins running around the house, calling their names, begging them to show themselves so she knows they're OK. But nothing. Eventually Betty finds her collapsed in tears. She asks why she could be upset and Alison explodes at her about how she had no right to do that, how the ghosts were her family and she's just sent them away. Betty is shocked and then feels awful once the truth settles but also berates Alison for not being honest. Mike finds Alison and holds her, telling his mum it's best she goes.
Alison doesn't sleep all night, having waited for the ghosts to come back if they could. The next morning Mike suggests they take a walk with Mia. They walk towards the lake and a bereft Alison is promising Mia she's going to hear all about her aunts and uncles who loved her so much. Like how sweet Auntie Kitty was, how naughty Uncle Julian was-
"And how handsome Uncle Thomas was?"
And Alison replies: "Yes how handsome Uncle Thom..."
She pauses. Then turns her head.
The ghosts are stood there, on the other side of the fence, smiling at her. She screams in shock and relief and Mike is confused but also relieved once Alison confirms they're all there and all safe. She asks what happened and they say they saw the same light but then woke up outside the grounds.
And now they can't get back in.
The exorcism didn't make them get sucked off; it banished them from the grounds. Alison asks if that means they're stuck in Maddox's place now. But Cap has already done a run and found he could go farther then Maddox. There doesn't seem to be any boundaries for them anymore.
Kitty begs Alison to call the Vicar back so he can undo it. Julian suggests perhaps a Satanic priest might be better. Alison hesitates and then asks; "Is that what you guys really want? You're free now. You can go wherever."
That hasn't really sank in for them, they're more concerned with being separated from Alison. But Alison tells them she's not interested in staying in the house either; not without them. If they're gone then she and Mike might as well take the golf resorts offer and buy a new place - once which the ghosts are more than happy to visit. However; they're also free to go where they want in the world, without restrictions.
It takes some sorting out as Alison sells the place and the guys stay on Maddox's land for the meanwhile until the moving vans are there. But this time as they drive out, the car and van stops, Alison beeps the horn once they exit the gates and all the ghosts pile in to either the backseat of the car or the van. Then they drive off together.
Cut to a few Christmas' later, the now loaded Coopers are setting the table and the ghosts start to arrive but in different orders. Alison welcomes them back happily, Mia can't see them anymore but she still waves to them when her mum says they're there. As they sit, Alison asks what they've all been up to in their various travels - except for Julian, the others aren't able to call or text her. Fanny finally snuck onto a luxury cruise but didn't seem as good as the Titanic. Thomas went to Venice to see if much had changed ("still nice"). Cap has been visiting WWII memorials and trying to find information on Havers. Pat visits his grandson. Humphrey has visited Paris. Kitty had discovered nightclubbing in London and joined in many hen parties. Julian goes to the House of Commons to watch Rachel speak out (he also does other stuff not suitable for Mia's ears). Robin says he went to the moon - everyone gasps- but he's only joking, he went to NASA but wasn't stupid enough to try to climb aboard any launched satellites- maybe next manned mission though.
Alison reminds them that they're all free to stay over Christmas as long as they want, but they say how they wouldn't impose for too long as they wouldn't want to be too in the way - though there are spare rooms for them to share when they need. They are all happy to spend time with the Coopers, coming back whenever they can, but always promising to spend Christmas together.
#this isnt a My Idea Is Better thing#but i just really want the ghosts to not be trapped anymore#especially my robin#bbc ghosts#bbc ghosts spoilers#a christmas gift
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The Spreadsheet Digest - Fic Recs | Vol. 9
Hi friends!! This week I read several series that had like... a lot of parts... including ones I've previously recced but just now finished (Looking at you Lie To Me by @iamskyereads). I also went to Pride and basically read nothing from Saturday to Monday. That being said, I'm pretty proud of the amount of fics I was able to scrounge up for y'all this week, and I think we have a pretty good selection.
The Spreadsheet can be found here and you're always welcome to tag me in a fic or send it to my askbox if you want me to read it (I'll read any Pedro boy!).
Recs below the Pedro:
Puppet - an Ezra one shot by @jksprincess10
I love these fics that are like "What if we went to extreme lengths to shut Ezra the fuck up," and I especially love how this one ends. Also the side effect bit made me giggle. You're a genius, Nad <3
Hot and Heavy - a Joel series by @tieronecrush
I think I established recently that I'm a sucker for the nanny trope. We also know I love angst. So here we have one of those time bomb relationships where we know it's gonna end, not once, but twice. Excellent angst/tention building. Then we also have super fucking sexy delicious smut, Joel being a fucking adorable father, reader being like actually awesome... and I lowkey think readers mom is on it but that's just me. OH and "Mariposa" are you KIDDING ME?! perfect.
Run to You - a Marcus Pike series by @foli-vora
Talk about angst... and it's fucking PERFECT. The little flashback scenes and then the sharp cut to such a painful present situation UGH. The world building is excellent. The characterization is so fucking good bc of COURSE Marcus would fall in love on an op of fucking course he would. Marcus "Marry Me" Pike over here. Fucking idiot. I love him. I can't wait to see how this story progresses. It is so. fucking. good.
Pretend Alleyways - a Dieter/Marcus Moreno series by @radiowallet
Would I ever have thought about pairing up Marcus Moreno and Dieter Bravo? No. Am I eternally grateful someone put my two softboys together? YES. They are so perfect together. So sweet and precious. They need each other fr. This made me all warm and fuzzy inside and also horny obviously.
Like Water in Your Hands - a Joel one shot by @beskarandblasters (Part of the Punisher anthology)
I. Love. This. So. Fucking. Much. Top tier. The smut? The plot? The characterization? Queen shit.
Don't Be Scared - a Din one shot by @beskarandblasters
Din being scared/nervous omg. So cute and sexy. I love him so much UGH. Looking forward to the Din revival fr
the lakes - a Joel one shot by @tieronecrush (Part of the folklore anthology)
This is literally one of my greatest non-smutty fantasies with Joel. Just telling him how much he means to me and promising to be there for him and convincing him to let himself be happy and comfortable. I wanna hug that man so bad AGH. This was beautiful Sam <3
Summer Lovin' - a Joel one shot by @atinylittlepain
I don't know why I've been reading so much asshole!Joel lately.... but I'm loving it. I love all the little details in this. I was genuinely pissed the fuck off at Joel. I have more sympathy for the ice cream than that fucking idiot. Sarah, his ex, and reader all deserve so much better than that dipshit UGH
Unusual Situation - a Din/Ezra one shot by @absurdthirst
Not only am I back on my Din/Reader/Ezra bullshit AND my M/M/F bullshit in general, but this is the fic that caused it. These two space idiots were meant to be together, I am 100% certain. The way Ezra manages to gently reassure Din that reader wants him while they're both balls deep in various holes....??? How do you do it. How do you make something tender and sweet while also being complete and utter filth. I am fascinated.
Of Gorgons and Gardens - a Din/Ezra series by @concussed-to-pieces
Following the absurdthirst story, I found this one.... and boy howdy. I am a SLUT for sex pollen fics, so obviously that was excellent. I also love how it was like "oh the plant makes men want to fuck women" but hinted that neither of them would be particularly upset about fucking each other either. Mando was like... i don't give a fuck, dude. And then it went from absurdly smutty (but also kinda sweet) in part one, to just like tender and sweet in part two. Like yeah yeah horrible harrowing near death experience yada yada... the STUBBLE SCENE??? The PAIN KINK?? the TOUCHING?? I just about died. And then in part three we get my top all time kink PLUS Din and Ezra and Reader just being so sweet it hurts a little. I am feral for these boys UGH. AND AND the nickname being bird in mando'a was so clever??
Late July - a Jack (Whiskey) series by @concussed-to-pieces
So I read the Din/Ezra thing and obviously had to peruse the masterlist. I love my dear appalachian cowboy. I really really liked the whole premise of this story and the follow ups. The smut is fucking masterful but also like hello, plot??? Truly incredible. I really liked seeing frat-boy Jack and also seeing him work through his trauma and shit. But also Jack tied to a chair need I say more?
Defanged - a Din one shot by @concussed-to-pieces
Alright so this one is the same sex pollen from OGaG but it doesn't hurt which is super dope. Hey Alexa play "In Love with a Stripper" but it's Din in love with a sex worker just bc he put his dick in her. I fuckin love this.
hunt and peck - a Javi P one shot by @toxicanonymity
You really said lets take this slut and make him even hornier and I LOVE IT.
----------oldies but goodies-----------
soft!dom joel - a Joel a series by @joelscruff
Letterman Jacket - a Javi P series by @fuckyeahdindjarin
I want you to stay - a Dieter one shot by @ezrasbirdie
Below the Line - a Dieter series by @prolix-yuy
Midnight Rider a Jack (Whiskey) one shot by jazzelsaur (ao3)
Rare - a Joel a one shot by @swiftispunk
One Hundred and Fifty Seven - a Din one shot by @theidiotwhowritesthings
Heatwaves - a Javi P two shot by @mishasminion360
In the Dark - an Ezra series by @frannyzooey (favorite ez ever maybe)
Lover of mine - a Dieter one shot by @psychedelic-ink
Morning - a Dieter series by @write-and-buried
--------------my recents-------------
In the next one - based on Lucy Dacus' (boygenius) song We're in Love and a standalone addition to my loose fit Dieter series A Ghost of You - focuses on Dieter's belief that he's been with you in every single past life and lost you in each of them + him coming to terms with his belief that he'll lose you in this one too.
----------------------------------------
Happy Reading
#the spreadsheet digest#vol 9#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro fics#pedro pascal character fanfiction#fic recs#joel miller fics#ezra (prospect) fics#din djarin fics#marcus moreno fics#Jack Daniels fics#Mandalorian fics#Agent Whiskey fics#marcus pike fics
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Hold My Hand
Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Word Count: 1353
Summary: Bucky and you help one another heal mentally while growing closer to each other.
Warning: Bucky and Reader working through trauma, emotional scenes, Bucky crying (yes it’s a warning)
A/N: thank you to my betas @pigwidgeonxo and @lfnr-blog-blog-blog & @music-culture-mythology (any mistakes on spelling & grammar are my own. Did this on my phone)
A/N 2: Song - Hold my Hand by Lady Gaga. Listen to the song here:
All GIFS are not mine and found on my GIF keyboard on iPhone.
Reblogs & Comments on Tumblr are welcomed and encouraged. 😊💜
I do NOT give my consent to have my work translated or reposted on any social media platform, apps, or third-party sites. If you see my work anywhere else besides my personal Tumblr & AO3 accounts then it has been stolen. I will NEVER give written or verbal permission to repost or translate any of my fanfics as they’re MY intellectual property. 🚫🚫
The gentle breeze blew across your skin as you overlooked the beautiful scenery of Wakanda. You had arrived here six months earlier as a victim of Hydra’s brainwashing. Your life was a series of broken memories and anger about what was taken from you. Steve Rogers had been the one to find you at a Hydra base during a mission with the Avengers. Seeing you in tattered clothes standing in a cell reminded him of his best friend Bucky Barnes whom he was trying to locate before the falling out of his team. You were a broken woman both physically and mentally. The Wakandan King, T’Challa had promised to help you the best they could with the resources that they had. Thankfully treatment had been helping you when another former Hydra operative, the Winter Soldier, or as you knew him now, Bucky Barnes, arrived in Wakanda.
At first, you both kept your respective distances as you went about therapy, him having the Soldier’s trigger words removed and you trying to piece your life together. It wasn’t until a couple of months later that you found yourselves with the Wakandan people, laughing around a bonfire. You were both dressed in the beautiful Wakandan attire. Your eyes seemed to lock across the fire, both offering the other a smile. Finally you each introduced yourselves and made small talk that night. It was almost as if time stood still for you both.
Hand in hand you spoke of your pasts and the evil Hydra did. You both talked until the sun came up that morning. By then you knew each other’s history but neither were judgmental of the other's darkness. What you did know is that you didn’t want to face another day without the other.
Hold my hand, everything will be okay
I heard from the heavens that clouds have been gray
Bucky walked hand in hand until you reached your hut overseeing the same lake that his hut also sat on. When he said goodbye you could tell his past was creeping up on him, so you gently pulled him in for a hug and kissed him on the cheek.
Pull me close, wrap me in your aching arms
I see that you're hurtin', why'd you take so long
Time went by and you ended up with a routine with him. Together you walked to therapy and parted for your one-on-one therapy. Then afterward you spent your time doing whatever your heart desired. It wasn’t until one day that Bucky told you about what Ayo planned to do. He explained, “to make sure the trigger words don’t activate the Soldier she wants to say them to me later tonight. I was wondering if you would be by my side to help me through it.”
Smiling back at him you nodded. “Of course, Bucky. I won’t leave your side. I’m here if you need me.” Later that night you would face his fears together hand in hand.
To tell me you need me? I see that you're bleedin'
You don't need to show me again
But if you decide to, I'll ride in this life with you
I won't let go 'til the end
Bucky and you sat around a bonfire holding hands as Ayo asked if he was sure he wanted to do this with you there as it could be dangerous. Both you and Bucky reassured her you weren’t going anywhere.
Ayo spoke softly, “It’s time.”
Bucky stared into the fire as his flesh hand gripped yours. “Are you sure about this?”
“I won’t let you hurt anyone,” Ayo reassured him as she started slowly saying the words.
“желание. ржавый. семнадцать.”
“It’s not gonna work.” Bucky hesitantly responded.
“рассвет.”
Bucky’s eyes started to tear up as he gripped your hand tighter and took a deep breath. The image of the red book that held those wicked words flashed across his mind.
“печь.”
Bucky’s mind thought back to being held in a secure box with Zemo in front of him.
“девять”
Then it cut to him quickly during his fight with Steve, the man on the bridge. Bucky was trying to control his breathing but it was hard to remain focused.
“доброкачественный”
His mind thought of the chair they strapped him to. Of riding a motorcycle and hitting a car off the road. Then killing the occupants.
“возвращениr е на родину”
Bucky grits his teeth together as the image of him above a battered Steve enters his mind. Tears continue to fill his eyes as he doesn’t let go of you.
“один. грузовой вагон.”
Tears were now flowing down his face, still he doesn’t look away from the flames. The words didn’t work.
“You are free, you are free,” Ayo said softly as Bucky looked up at her still crying, and then he looked at you. You wrapped him in your arms as he cried.
So cry tonight
But don't you let go of my hand
You can cry every last tear
I won't leave 'til I understand
Promise me, just hold my hand
With Bucky free from the Winter Soldier trigger words things seemed to be going better between you. There seemed to be some hope now behind his blue eyes that wasn’t there before. He smiled more and even started teasing you in a playful manner. What was once a hollow man was now someone who was finding himself again. Now it was Bucky’s turn to help you face your fears. He looked into your fearful eyes and told you it was time to let go of the anger.
Raise your head, look into my wishful eyes
That fear that's inside you will lift, give it time
I can see everything you're blind to now
Your prayers will be answered, let God whisper how
You sat in therapy with Bucky next to you. There you spoke of a dream you had. “It felt so real. Like I was there again. I was sparring with a Hydra agent like usual until my handler told him not to hold back. He struck me hard in the stomach, knocking the wind out of me. I was angry with every hit he landed. I waited until he started mocking me then I took him to the ground. I struck him repeatedly until I was pulled off his unconscious body. They punished me for defending myself. I think of what would have happened if I gave up. I guess I wouldn’t be here.” Your eyes shifted to look at Bucky. “I can’t explain it but I’m feeling more of myself every day I spend with Bucky. To know he is by my side, my ride or die, well I’m very lucky to have someone who wants to spend forever with me.” Tears watered in your eyes as you expressed your feelings to Bucky and the counselor. Your hand grabbed his vibranium one and held on tightly.
To tell me you need me, I see that you're bleedin'
You don't need to show me again
But if you decide to, I'll ride in this life with you
I won't let go 'til the end
So cry tonight
But don't you let go of my hand
You can cry every last tear
I won't leave 'til I understand
Promise you'll just hold my hand
It has been several months now and you have finally finished your part of the therapy with the help from Bucky. Both of you still have worries about your past and the pain that you went through but you remind each other that you aren’t going anywhere.
Bucky looks at you and smiles. “Don’t ever give up on yourself. We will make it through this life together no matter what our past was. We can be happy again and have the future we want. Just hold my hand and don’t let go.”
I know you're scared and your pain is imperfect
But don't you give up on yourself
I've heard a story, a girl, she once told me
That I would be happy again
Hold my hand
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#saiyanprincessswanie#missy writes#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes imagine#song fic#hold my hand#Youtube#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x f!reader
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This is more of a plea than an ask
You're welcome
"Where are you taking me?" Eathan asked as he was pulled along by his adopted son.
"Dad just stop talking and follow me okay?" Alistar replied before Loreley appeared out of the bushes.
"You ready?" She asked Eathan.
"Depends. what exactly should I be ready for?" Eathan asked.
All loreley did was smirk before gently taking his hand and leading him deeper into the woods, alistar following behind.
Eathan stopped at a lake.
"Uhhhh what am I looking at here?" He asked.
Before either of them could answer, the lake began to glow a soft light blue.
Eathan's eyes widened at the scene.
Tears brimmed them as the figure before him became clear.
"... Carolyn..." He whispered, his mouth agape.
"Eathan?" Carolyn asked, a smile on her face. She glanced to her son, her smile growing. "Alistar....." she muttered.
"Carolyn," Eathan said again, drawing her attention.
She got quiet. "I know what you're thinking..... why didn't I come back to you? How could I? I couldn't just run away," Carolyn started.
Eathan stayed quiet, his mouth still agape as he took in her blue tinted features.
"Oh don't be so quiet..... scream, shout, say something!" She stated, ready for whatever he would do. Only for her eyes to widen in shock as he touched her face.
"You're more beautiful than the day I lost you," he muttered before kissing her. Tears ran down his face. He couldn't taste her again, couldn't touch her fully. The texture of her skin was more like grass. It brushed and tickled around his fingers, but he couldn't really hold her to him as tight as he wanted.
"Why did you come here?" Carolyn asked.
"I came to find you.... I ended up finding your son instead..." eathan chuckled. "He's a great kid, Carrie," Eathan muttered.
"How's Alison?" Carolyn asked.
"Shes wonderful. Currently babysitting your grandchildren," Eathan replied.
".... You're.... Grown," Carolyn stated
"Yes..... as were you," Eathan replied.
As the two talked, Loreley nudged Alistar and the two of them walked away, leaving the couple to their own.
As the time passed Carolyn and Eathan sat on the riverbank, Carolyn leaning against him.
She caught sight of her hands. They were fading.
"Eathan," she muttered.
"Hm?" He asked as he kissed her forehead.
"I'm fading......" she replied.
Eathan stayed quiet.
"I want you to know that I never stopped loving you.... somewhere in my things, I hid my promise ring from you and the necklace I made from the first flower you ever gave me... that was all John allowed me to have of my past life... so...." Carolyn stated.
Eathan nodded before taking her hand in his, feeling the coldness of the fade.
"I love you," she muttered.
"I love you too," He replied before kissing her.
She dissapeared.
Alistar and loreley came back at that moment to find eatjan sitting, his knees to his chest as he looked at the water.
"Son?" He asked.
"Yes?" Alistar replied.
"May we go through your mother's things tomorrow? I have a promise ring and a necklace she told me about in them," Eayhan explained.
"Of course," Alistar stated, giving a small smile.
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100 SLEEPING PRINCES & THE KINGDOM OF DREAMS
TOYA CHARACTER CARD #2
━
Upon receiving a formal invitation from Toya, I visited the Country of Four Seasons, Hourai, and was immediately met with a bitter winter chill.
EMMA : Geez, it's so cold!
Shivering against the biting cold wind, I instinctively huddled into myself, seeking refuge. Despite the promise of spring lurking on the horizon, the landscape around me remained cloaked in a pristine blanket of snow.
TOYA : ...Welcome to Hourai.
Toya greeted me with a curt welcome as I approached him.
(I'm freezing...)
EMMA : Uh...Th-Thank you.
Rubbing my arms to generate some warmth, I offered a response to Toya.
TOYA : What's the matter...?
EMMA : It's just that, despite spring almost being here, it's still really cold out today...
The cold was making my teeth chatter uncontrollably.
TOYA : I see. Well, with such light clothing that's to be expected.
Mid-sentence, Toya suddenly stopped himself. He quickly averted his gaze from me, who was shivering uncontrollably.
(Toya...?)
Toya closed his eyes for a moment before returning to the same serious expression he'd been wearing before. Turning toward me in silence.
TOYA : Here. Take this.
Toya took out a woven blanket with a Japanese pattern printed across it, and gently draped it over my small shoulders.
(So warm...)
EMMA : Aren't you cold, Toya?
(I suppose that's expected of the prince who governs the winter.)
-
That night, a grand welcoming banquet was held in the grand hall.
(There are so many exquisite cuisines...)
Excitement bubbled in my chest as I beheld the beautiful culinary creations.
KING : Lady Emma, you have come at an opportune time.
(Despite it being so cold out, it's still a good time...?)
KING : This year marks a once-in-a-century extreme cold wave. Thanks to that, the largest lake in our country froze, and ice pillars formed. Those ice pillars are considered the path of the gods...Following that path leads to a cave at the end of the lake. It is there that the ritual takes place.
EMMA : Only once every hundred years? This sounds like a truly wonderful opportunity.
KING : Yes, the whole country is buzzing with excitement. Toya, make sure you're prepared.
TOYA : I shall.
(Does Toya have a role in the ritual?)
As I enjoyed my conversation with the king, the lively hall erupted into dance and song. Their playful antics amused me, and I couldn't help but chuckle.
TOYA : .....
As I glanced across the room to Toya, I noticed that he hadn't touched his drink and was sitting alone in complete silence.
(Is Toya not feeling well...?)
EMMA : Um, Toya...
The moment I stood up and approached Toya...
(Oh, my legs have gone numb...)
Having sat for too long, my body swayed and I lost my balance. Toppling over.
EMMA : Whoa!
As I made a scene, falling onto the ground, Toya merely turned to look away. As if he were attempting to avoid seeing me.
(How embarrassing..!!)
EMMA : I'm so sorry about causing a scene...
Rubbing my legs, I awkwardly apologized, but Toya...
TOYA : ......
He quickly stood up, clutching at his chest, and hastily fled from the room.
(Toya really doesn't look so good...If he isn't sick, did he find me embarrassing?)
I could do nothing but watch Toya's back as he walked out of the grand hall.
#Otome#yume100#yume100 translations#夢王国と眠れる100人の王子様#夢100#100 sleeping princes and the kingdom of dreams#Dream Meister Translations#Toya
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Hey Everyone!
Now that we're roughly a month away from the event, I thought I'd give some more information on the PokeAsk Music and Arts Festival I will be hosting here!
Dates:
It will start on September 1st and end on October 1st, but you're blogs are welcome to come and go at any time during that window.
Attractions:
While you're welcome to have your muses attend the festival in any way you like, some of the planned activities for your muses to do are as follows
Live bands and contest performances
food trucks
face painting
arts and crafts area
small art gallery tents
smaller stage for amateurs to perform on
all centered on the edge of a lake, so water activities can happen as well, like swimming or tubing
If you'd like to specify that your muse will be playing in a band, running a food truck, or hosting a mini gallery, please let me know ahead of time! That way I can make a post linking all the blogs who are roleplaying those things and people can send you asks specifically about that if they'd like.
FAQ
(Will be added onto if I think of anything else, or if yall have more questions!)
Will there be a dress code?
There won't be a hard dress code, but if you'd like to dress your muse up in something festive I think fall attire would match the scene well!
Who is allowed to join?
Anyone whose blog is a part of the Pokemon Askblog Community! Even if you're brand new, or don't post much, if you're a part of the community you're welcome. (Bigots, lgbtphobes, and otherwise nasty people are obviously exempt from this)
Will there be a map of the event?
Yes, I do plan on having a map or two of the layout so that y'all can have an idea of where everything is relative to each other!
What will the event tag be?
PokeAskMusicFestival2022
#pokeaskmusicfestival2022#pokemon ask blog#event information#feel free to reply or ask or dm me if you have any questions!#more posts will be made as we inch closer to the event#but for now this is the gist of it :>
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Slasher male y/n
if you're reading a slasher thing I hope you're are ready for murder tw lol
in first person bc i felt like it
it's really fast-paced (my bubba one was written later on so more detailed ig)
this will be build-up for what slasher lover path you pick
your a cannibal so- ya
before this is you were caught and put with Lil Mikey man
After the break out with Micheal and got snacks (his victims) I told Micheal I had to leave because I didn't want to get caught, he’s using sign language to sign "till we meet again" I nod and run off, after a year I find new friends and get told that they got a gig at the Crystal lake reopening, I say I'd like to as well, next thing I know I'm the only one taking care of the children as the rest are off making out or making fun of some kids- later jason kills all the camp counselors and had me running in the woods away from him I finally trip and back up into a tree he drops his machete and signs "I'm not going to hurt you", back to present jason tells me there's a slasher meet up and tells me to get ready, he goes on without me as I say I need a snack (I kill someone and FEAST) when I get there I'm bloody and everyone's staring at me when I walk in "am I that sexy- damn I knew this was too much" (party goes on from there)
The Brahms path
Later on, I tell Jason I need money so I'm going to try to get a babysitter job, I find one online and when I get there it's a doll- ok- then I realized wait- the doll's name is Brahms 👀 after the people leave I start knocking on the walls tell Brahms he can come out now- he doesn't 🙄, so I just do the job as they said later- my- my ex- from when I ran away found me? He kinda picks up the doll-like "ok cool" I say "put it down please and get out" he starts getting pissed and I finally get them to start to leave but before he does he throws the doll on the ground * the whole Brahms reveal happens* Brahms kills my ex then looks at me "Brahms" I kinda giggle he gets up *does the forehead scene* "why are you-" he lifts my chin and kisses me with the mask I kiss back "have you been stalking me?" I smirk "I don't like the word stalking," a raspy voice says (in my head: wow) I kinda melt at this and yawn "I've been waiting for you to come out why didn't you?" He sighs signaling he doesn't want to answer. I nod and then say "bed?" "Yes" we go to bed but before I could go he grabs my hand I look back "stay"
I roll my eyes then get in bed "kiss?" "Ok ok" I give a quick kiss on his mask but before I could lay down he says "no real kiss" and lifts his mask I let go of the kiss- "ok ok bedtime now"
BUBBA PATH <3 <3 <3
((He didn't go to the party bc no one invited him 🥺))
Later I meet more friends (yay) and we go down to Texas to have a vacation- (Idk either) we run out of gas at (insert any name)s old house we all split up to ask someone close for gas I then find the sheriff who tells me his name and how we could all stay with his family tell we get gas a to thank him and he rides me to the house and I tell my friends the situation, they hop in as well and we all walk in and get welcomed by miss Sawyer who tells us we can call her maw we all thank them again and a bigger man walks out with a mask on. My friend kinda gets scared and asks something to "maw" and you could tell it was something a little disrespectful. Dayton pulls them out of the room. I walk to the bigger man and introduced myself "hi I'm y/n, y/n l/n, what's your name" I smile you could tell he was taken aback by this and tried to sign "Thomas" I understood him still and repeated "Thomas, that's a sweet name" I smile again and he waves to walk off to Dayton I sit down next to maw and have a chat with her "your son seems very sweet, does he talk? If not I could help teach sign language to you guys and him I have many friends who don't talk" I say to her "oh he talks but so far only us family has heard his angel voice, and if he did learn sign language it wouldn't help much, he doesn't speak to the outside much with that disability of his" "I see. he has subjective talking if it's not of any hurt may I ask why he seemed so taken aback by me asking his name?" I question. "You smiled at him Darlin, not many people smile at him because of the way he looks… they don't give the inside a chance" I look at her sympathetically and sit in silence wait for the rest of my friends, they don't come back and I finally realized what's going on "so did you guys kill my "friends" or something it's fine if so.." I pause "just kinda wish people would stop killing all the friend groups I have had this happen at least three times now" they all look at me in surprise and Drayton starts to say "how did you know-" "like I just said- this has happened at least three times if you did, I'd like to ask what my friend said to trigger this or did you kill for another reason?" I ask "she said "what’s that retared doing with a mask on like that-" I gasp and start to tear a tiny bit "I knew these guys were assholes but… god… for your information I would never talk about anyone that way that's ignorant and disgusting" maw begins to speak "I could tell babe you are a sweet young man and we'd like for you to stay for dinner.. maybe to make up for this" "of course"
✕Time skip✕
We all sit down and say grace. I'm not a big religious person but I thought it was sweet. We all begin to eat and I ask "what type of meat is this? It's delicious." "Well… it's your friends" I look up for a second and think of what to say "ya know- after dinner would you guys like to hear my life story.. well the interesting parts… I feel like it would explain to you why I'm so calm about this.. I feel bad" they all say "yes" in unison well… Thomas tries to sign it but fails-
✕time skip✕
I explain to them everything and maw pulls me out of the room after and explains that originally I was going to be Thomas's "pet" because he thinks I’m "purty". I blush slightly and say "can I still do it?" Nervously and she laughs "yes yes yes now go talk to him and tell him you want to it will boost his confidence" I walk up to him nervously and blushing, I tell him I think he's handsome and I herd he wanted me as a "pet", you could tell he's blushing under his skin mask and I say I'd like that actually… he picks me up bridal and brings me to his room
#slashers#slasher fandom#slasher fucker#brahms imagine#brahms heelsire x reader#brahms x y/n#brahms the boy#brahms headcanons#brahms heelshire#slasher#bubba x reader#texas chainsaw massacre#thomas hewitt#bubba sawyer#leatherface#tcm#tommy hewitt#the texas chainsaw massacre#texas chainsaw 3d#the texas chainsaw massacre 2#texas chainsaw 2#texas chainsaw the beginning
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the update was adorable and it was very fun to meet our lovely roommate (and hall mates!)
admittedly, this update just makes me more and more certain that running up that hill (and particularly the cover by loveless) reminds me of sam and g's routes?? perhaps not as intense (though i suppose college relationships do always feel very intense!), but,,, it might be because of that “you don't wanna hurt me, but see how deep the bullet lies” / “unaware i'm tearing you asunder.” + “tell me we both matter, or don't we?” / “it's you and me, won't be unhappy.”
Ahh glad you liked the update <3
For Sam: Running up that hill is perfect. *shivers deliciously*. Those lines! Such a "love you so much it hurts but can't walk away" situation.
P.S. I love the song (heard it for the first time on The Voice UK covered by Bo Bruce) and I've never heard the cover by Loveless before. Love how gritty/emotional it is. P.P.S. Would definitely welcome folks' song recs for the ROs especially to accompany my writing :P I think Mitski's two slow dancers was another rec for Sam.
For G: I think personally, I've always felt more of a peaceful, drifting, inevitable heartbreak vibe for the route, like a piece of driftwood floating further and further out to sea.
(But perhaps that's only because I'm writing from my own experience and that's just how it played out for me. I guess that's why watching Portrait of a Lady on Fire killed me so much (that end scene). For CT:OS though, I intend to write a possible happy ending to their romance.)
Here are the songs that really encapsulate the "we belong to different worlds and though they aligned for a brief moment, now it's time to say goodbye" mood that used to make me think of real-life G.
O Houria (Souad Massi) - basically the entire lyrics, but here's a selection (translated from French)
I would have liked to sing eternal tales for you
and fallen suns and full moons, dark nights
and on the shores of lakes where burned out angels sleep
O Houria
Love might well never cross our path again,
O Houria
Love might well be dead before I return.
I would have liked to give you fine blue dreams
illuminated stars lost in your hair,
liked to listen to life whispering through these wet lips,
from the place where your name is.
I would have liked to give you a piece of sky every night,
to stroke the light, smooth your wings somewhat,
while perfumes rip through the morning light,
I would have built every tomorrow for you.
Hey, That's No Way to Say Goodbye (Leonard Cohen)
I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm
Your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm
Yes, many loved before us, I know that we are not new
In city and in forest they smiled like me and you
But now it's come to distances and both of us must try
Your eyes are soft with sorrow
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye
I'm not looking for another as I wander in my time
Walk me to the corner, our steps will always rhyme
You know my love goes with you as your love stays with me
It's just the way it changes, like the shoreline and the sea
But let's not talk of love or chains and things we can’t untie
Dis, quand reviendras-tu? (Barbara / Jean Louis Aubert)
This is the song real-life G shared with me just before we left each other in Quebec. I still associate it with heartbreak xD
So Long, Marianne (Leonard Cohen)
You left when I told you I was curious
I never said that I was brave
Now so long, Marianne, it's time that we began
To laugh and cry and cry and laugh about it all again
Salam (Souad Massi) - translated from arabic on google, wish I knew how beautiful it is in its original form
Salam
I will walk in silence, and bid farewell to my hope in you
You're a dream that quickly passed [...] Bid me farewell with care
Oh years of my life and the rest of it that I didn't live
Oh story I've come to read that suddenly I couldn't finish
Oh tale as soon as I started, came the closing chapter
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Loss
@ila-appreciationweek
The appreciation week may be over but I still got a few fics left to give (aka ideas that popped into my head at 3 in the morning), if you allow it that is. This is for day 1 again and yes this was heavily inspired by the ending scene of Hopping Mall from Amphibia.
"How's the leg doing?" Violet asks as she takes a seat beside Harper on the couch, making sure to avoid the crutches as she did.
It's been a month since the whole fiasco with the caves and carnival. Violet became part of a team dedicated to hunting down and curing the horrors while also protecting the Power against those who wish to use and abuse it. Meanwhile, Harper went back to the hospital for further treatment and was let out a few days ago when the doctor determined that his condition is stable enough to let him go. Now, he's staying at his grandpa's house until his leg is fully healed.
"It's fine. A pain most of the time." Harper looks at the cast with disdain. "God, I just want to run around again."
"Yeah, that looks like it sucks." Violet subconsciously places a hand to her eyepatch. "How did you get it broken?"
"Not sure. Maybe it was from struggling too much while underneath the lake bed, or the Power broke it on purpose or..." Harper sighed, running a hand through his blonde hair. "I'm just glad I'm back...that I'm real again." He looks at Violet, gratitude evident on his face. "And it's all thanks to you."
"It was nothing. You should thank the doctors and the therapists. They did much more than me."
"But you're the reason I'm here now. If it weren't for you, there was no way I could've been freed from the lake bed. The Power wouldn't let me go. You made it let me free again."
Harper smiled. "So, once again, thank you."
Violet couldn't help but smile back. "Alright, you're welcome."
They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, occasionally Harper would grab a pillow from the couch and contemplate starting a pillow fight or sleeping with it, but he never goes through with it.
Violet looks around the living room until her eyes rest on a framed picture on the far wall opposite of them. It showed two adults and two boys, playing happily together in a yard.
"Are those your parents?"
Harper looks up, an agonized look crossing his face for a moment as he sighed and nodded.
"Yeah." He confirms. "They're dead."
"...fuck, I'm sorry." Violet winced, regretting what she said.
"It's fine. It's been a while since it happened anyway."
"... what were they like?"
"They were the best parents I could ask for." Harper smiled, bittersweet. "Todd was more of a father to me than my biological dad. And mom...she was awesome. She was kind and headstrong, and never hesitated to do tell off the teachers when she heard about them mistreating me and Elliot. Though we didn't always see eye to eye. Sometimes they like making out the second my back is turned just to annoy me, either that or they were just impatient..."
"...and the funny thing is, sometimes I would crave to be annoyed by them again, and how I would give anything just to hear their voices again."
Violet looks at his face, tears forming in his eyes. She listened intently, but she couldn't help but be stricken all the same. How his parents remind her of her own the original Violet's, and how she wished he had gotten more time to spend with them.
Harper seems oblivious to to his tears until he felt something wet on his cheeks. Once he realized that, he quickly wiped them away on his white sleeves. "Oh, sorry. Sorry, just got carried away."
"It's fine." Violet knows his pain. Or at least, she thinks she does. She never had a family to begin with. But she misses them all the same. "It's nice that you actually knew them."
Harper gives her a confused look. She took that as a sign to continue.
"My...own family were killed five years ago."
Harper's eyes widened, a hand flying to cover his mouth.
"I know it's not actually my family. It was Violet's...I was never actually her, but I have her memories. I remember everything about her life. Even though it wasn't actually mine."
"And now...I've always wondered. Can you miss someone you never actually knew?" Violet shakes her head, chuckling bitterly. "Of course you can't-"
She was cut off by arms wrapping around her. Harper gives her a squeeze, hugging her tight.
Her eye formed tears she tried to hold back as she returned the embrace. The pain, so unreal yet real at the same time. How she remembers it all like it's her own.
Harper doesn't need to say anything else. The pain they share can't be conveyed through words alone.
Just hugging each other is enough to give each other solace and comfort.
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Looking for the pool parties, in Udaipur? Here's where you can find them!
If you're searching for the best pool parties in Udaipur, look no further. Udaipur, with its stunning lakes and palaces, offers the perfect backdrop for unforgettable poolside gatherings. And when it comes to best pool party venue in Udaipur, Nightingales Resort is your ultimate destination.
Nightingales Resort: Your Pool Party Destination
The Jewel of Udaipur: Nightingales Resort
Nightingales Resort stands out as a jewel in the crown of Udaipur's hospitality scene. Nestled amidst lush greenery and overlooking Lake Pichola, this resort is a haven of luxury and relaxation. But what truly sets it apart is its fabulous pool party scene.
The Best Pool Parties in Udaipur
Udaipur knows how to party, and Nightingales Resort knows how to throw the best pool parties in town. Here are three must-experience pool events:
1. Nightingales Splash Bash
Imagine dancing under the stars, the DJ spinning your favorite tracks, and the pool shimmering with colored lights. That's the Nightingales Splash Bash experience. It's a vibrant fiesta that combines music, drinks, and a fantastic pool to create memories that last a lifetime.
2. Sunset Soiree at the Rooftop Pool
For those seeking a more intimate setting, the Sunset Soiree at the Rooftop Pool is a dream come true. As the sun dips below the horizon, you can savor cocktails, indulge in gourmet bites, and take a dip in the infinity pool while being mesmerized by the panoramic view of Udaipur's iconic landmarks.
3. Moonlit Magic Pool Party
If you prefer the magic of moonlight, the Moonlit Magic Pool Party won't disappoint. Nightingales Resort transforms into an enchanting wonderland as the moon rises over Lake Pichola. Dive into the shimmering waters, dance to live music, and sip on exotic cocktails while enjoying the tranquil beauty of the night.
Finding the Perfect Swimming Pool in Udaipur
What Makes a Pool Perfect?
When it comes to swimming pool in Udaipur, perfection isn't just about the water; it's about the entire experience. A perfect pool should offer relaxation, fun, and a sense of escape. Nightingales Resort delivers all of this and more.
Dive Into Serenity at Nightingales
Nightingales Resort boasts a state-of-the-art swimming pool that's more than just a pool; it's an oasis of serenity. Surrounded by lush gardens and offering stunning views of Lake Pichola and the City Palace, this pool is a slice of paradise. Whether you want to take a refreshing dip or simply lounge by the pool with a book, it's the ideal spot.
Besides the main pool, Nightingales Resort offers private pool villas where you can bask in luxury and seclusion. These villas come with their own plunge pools, ensuring your privacy while you soak up the sun.
Conclusion
Udaipur's pool party scene is alive and thriving, and Nightingales Resort is at the forefront of it all. Whether you're looking for high-energy soirées or tranquil moments by the pool, Nightingales has it all. So, when you're in Udaipur, make sure to dive into the experience at Nightingales Resort.
FAQs About Nightingales Resort and Pool Parties in Udaipur
Q1: How can I book a pool party at Nightingales Resort in Udaipur? A1: Booking a pool party at Nightingales Resort is easy. You can visit our website or contact our reservations team for availability and packages.
Q2: What is the best time to visit Nightingales Resort for a pool party? A2: The best time to enjoy a pool party at Nightingales Resort is during the evening when the weather is pleasant, and you can experience the magic of sunset or moonlight.
Q3: Are the pool parties at Nightingales Resort open to non-resident guests? A3: Yes, the pool parties at Nightingales Resort are open to both resident and non-resident guests. Everyone is welcome to join the fun.
Q4: Do I need to bring my swimming gear to the pool parties at Nightingales Resort? A4: Yes, we recommend bringing your swimwear to fully enjoy the pool parties. However, we also provide pool towels and other essentials.
Q5: Are there any age restrictions for pool parties at Nightingales Resort? A5: While most pool parties are suitable for adults, we occasionally host family-friendly events. Please check our event schedule for specific age restrictions.
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Discover the Best Cafes in Udaipur - Top 6 Picks
Udaipur, the city of lakes, is known for its breathtaking palaces, forts, and lakes. The city has a rich cultural heritage that attracts tourists from all over the world. Udaipur is also famous for its street food and cafes. In this article, we will discuss the top 6 best cafes in Udaipur, Rajasthan, where you can have a relaxing time with your friends or family while enjoying delicious food and drinks.
Table of Contents
Introduction
Xero Degrees Cafe
Millets of Mewar
Ambrai Cafe
1559 AD
Cafe Edelweiss
Leela Palace
Conclusion
FAQs
Xero Degrees Cafe
If you're looking for the best place to enjoy some seriously cheesy pizza in town, you might want to check out Xero Degrees Cafe in Udaipur. This restaurant offers a wide range of pizza options, from classic round pizzas to heart-shaped ones. Additionally, they also have a unique Pizza in a Jar dish that's sure to tantalize your taste buds from the very first bite.
So, if you're planning a pizza date or just craving some delicious cheesy goodness, be sure to add Xero Degrees Cafe to your list of must-visit spots.
Millets of Mewar
Millets of Mewar is a unique cafe that specializes in millet-based dishes. The cafe is situated in the old city of Udaipur and has a rustic ambiance. They serve a range of healthy and delicious millet-based dishes, including sandwiches, pizzas, and smoothie bowls. The cafe also has vegan and gluten-free options. Their millet coffee is a must-try, and the staff is knowledgeable and helpful.
Ambrai Cafe
Ambrai Cafe is a beautiful cafe situated near Lake Pichola. The cafe has a stunning view of the City Palace and Lake Palace. The ambiance of the cafe is serene and peaceful, making it a perfect place to relax and unwind. They serve a range of Indian and Continental dishes along with a variety of beverages. Their kulhad coffee and masala chai are a must-try. The staff is courteous and attentive, making your visit a memorable one.
1559 AD
1559 AD is a cafe situated in the heart of Udaipur, near City Palace. The cafe has a regal ambiance, with antique furniture and decor. They serve a range of Indian and Continental dishes, including wood-fired pizzas and burgers. Their coffee and mocktails are refreshing and delicious. The staff is friendly and helpful, ensuring a comfortable dining experience.
Cafe Edelweiss
Cafe Edelweiss is a cozy cafe situated in the old city of Udaipur. The cafe has a vintage decor, with antique furniture and quirky artwork. They serve a range of coffee, tea, and bakery items, along with a variety of Indian and Continental dishes. Their signature dish, the Edelweiss breakfast platter, is a must-try. The staff is warm and welcoming, making your visit comfortable and enjoyable.
Leela Palace
Leela Palace is a luxury hotel in Udaipur that offers an unforgettable dining experience. The hotel has a beautiful view of Lake Pichola and offers indoor and outdoor seating arrangements. They serve a range of Indian and International dishes, along with a variety of beverages.
Conclusion:
Udaipur is a city that is rich in history and culture, and its cafes offer a unique window into the city's vibrant and dynamic scene. Whether you're looking for a cozy spot to relax with a cup of chai, or a lively cafe to soak up the city's cultural offerings, there is something for everyone in Udaipur. From the art-filled interiors of Bistro 1469 to the colorful murals at Tribute, these cafes offer a unique blend of food, culture, and art that is sure to leave a lasting impression.
FAQs:
What is the best time to visit Udaipur?
The best time to visit Udaipur is between October and March, when the weather is pleasant and cool.
Are these cafes budget-friendly?
Yes, all of the cafes mentioned in this article are budget-friendly and offer affordable prices.
Can I find vegetarian options at these cafes?
Yes, all of the cafes mentioned in this article offer vegetarian options on their menus.
Do I need to make a reservation at these cafes?
While it is not always necessary to make a reservation, it is recommended during peak tourist season to ensure a table.
What is the local cuisine of Udaipur?
The local cuisine of Udaipur is a mix of Rajasthani and Mewari cuisine, with a focus on vegetarian dishes and spices. Some popular dishes include dal bati churma, gatte ki sabzi, and laal maas.
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UP IN SMOKES — DOYOUNG
psych student! kdy | tw. college au, violence, a knife, GASLIGHTING, hallucination, psychosis, swearing, just pure manipulation, minor charac death, there's a court scene, this is a repost! | wc. 10k she a beast
life could’ve been simple;
you shouldn't have met kim doyoung.
what does a freshman in college hate the most other than the high-stress levels of moving into a new dorm? a shitty roomie and a smelly, moldy mattress. the girl you call roommate refuses to help move the mattress because it will ruin her new manicure. what a fucking classic.
"sounds like a 'you' problem. figure it out yourself, plain jane."
she said before heading out, annoyingly popping her bubblegum as she kicks a few of your scattered boxes by the front door. you roll your eyes; classes haven't even started yet, so why is she already making your life miserable? as much as you'd like to snap at her, you don't, merely glaring daggers at her back as she finally turns the corner of the hallway and disappears.
"bitch," you mutter under your breath.
you eye the abomination that is supposed to be your bed, cursing how you shouldn't have made a 15-minute pit stop to starbucks for a drink when you could've just bought one from the instant coffee vending machines in every corner of the hallway of this dorm building because if you didn't, maybe you could've beaten regina george wannabe from taking the better bed. sighing, you suck it up and start getting to work. life's full of shit, anyway; no point sulking.
moving a moldy mattress is easier than you thought, to say the least. you can't ask for help from the other freshmen you bumped into in the hallway because they, too, are under a huge amount of stress from the move and are busy getting their affairs in order. it was a good thing, though, that a committee was formed specifically for this day to help out the freshmen if they were to stumble upon problems or mishaps with moving in. they were all around the campus, and they prove to be way friendlier than your batch mates. since this morning, three people have already offered help in carrying your luggage — which you have politely declined.
"hey, uhm… is this the stall for the welcoming committee? oh, wait. i'm sorry, there's a sign right there —"ugh.
you mentally shut your eyes in humiliation. why do you have to be this bad, this awkward at communicating with strangers? why couldn't you be born like all those socialites who already (probably) got their contacts filled with new numbers on the first day of school or something?
"yeah, this is them — welcoming committee, i mean. how can i help you?" he smiles, sweet, radiating the epitome boy next door aura as he looks up at you from where he's sitting behind the stall. your eyes quickly land onto the name tag stuck on his varsity jacket before meeting his eyes again.
"i have an issue with my mattress. it has mold, you see..." your voice slowly trails, becoming quieter as you feel small under the weight of his piercing stare. oh, come on. he's just a guy with a beautiful face, woman the fuck up.
"really? let me see..."
he needn't finish rounding the stall when his nose is hit by the pungent smell brought forth by your mattress. frankly, you weren't that picky. you could've covered it with bedsheets and call it a day, but the odor is too strong to ignore. you mentally hope the smell didn't latch onto your clothes, especially not when someone so cute is around — what a bad first impression.
"oh, god!" he exclaims the moment he lays eyes on it, taking a step back. “now, that has to go. and you lugged it from the fourth floor?"
ah, yes. according to tradition in these dormitories, which you've only found out today, freshmen get the curse of climbing four flights of stairs up while the seniors strut into their rooms on the ground floor like the hallway is a goddamned runway.
"doyoung! help me carry these!"
someone calls his name as you both turn your head to spot a chestnut-haired girl clad in the same varsity jacket he's wearing. you grimace at the sight of her. for someone so small, she just had to volunteer to carry all those heavy bags. however, he doesn't move in front of you and brushes her off as if she doesn't look like she's carrying rocks over her shoulders. "i'm already helping someone else! go find taeyong or something. i'm sure that shit's loitering around here somewhere!"
"oh, it's okay, you can go help her. i'll just look for someone else —"
"nah, it's fine!" you try hard to school your face into indifference when you notice his gummy smile. "plus… trust me when i say no other person from the committee will help you with this. this shit smells like my roommate's sweaty basketball socks!"
you can't help the smile forming on your face as you help him carry the mattress off to the side of the hallway, the stinky thing leaning vertically against the wall and behind a huge terracotta plant pot. "don't worry, let's report it to student affairs so they'll get you a new one. congrats! you'll have to share beds with your new roommate tonight, freshie. it'd be a great ice breaker."
the universe truly hates you.
your expression must've been a dead give away because he's suddenly patting your shoulder, regarding you with utmost sympathy. "been there, done that. i hated taeyong, too, when i met him last year. still, for some mind fuck of a miracle, we've grown to be friends and developed a talent of not wanting to kill each other every two seconds."
"highly doubt i'd be friends with a regina george-level bitch, but thanks, anyway," you mutter under your breath. suddenly, you whip your head towards him after internalizing what he just said. "you met your roommate last year? you're a sophomore?"
he scoffs, leaning down to your height to lowly mutter against your ear as he eyes the lobby's front desk. "why? do i look like some 4th year who radiates 'don't touch me' energy?"
you feel the heat on your cheeks with how close he is, only releasing an exhale when he finally gets out of your personal space. "i'm kim doyoung. you've heard it from wendy earlier, but anyway — i'm a 2nd-year psych major."
"no way!" you exclaim, a little too excited. "i'm taking psych, too!"
"oh, you are? well, if you need anything or if you don't understand stuff…" he winks. "feel free to approach me anytime."
hmm… how sweet of him.
it was only hours later that you found out who kim doyoung is in your department during the acquaintance party. and for god's sake, you found out from your best friend who is a major in english lit and has never even seen the guy. "seriously, you didn't know he's a genius? i hear the professors call him a prodigy, girl! a fucking prodigy. if i were you, i'd ask for his help in every subject."
"you know i prefer keeping to myself. how'd i know stuff like that when i have no one to talk to in the psych dorms?" you look down, making the ice cubes in your drink clink against each other. "i didn't think he was this big shot or whatever. he looks normal, and everyone treats him normally."
"well, what do you expect?" she hisses, hitting your arm. "the other students don't want to make him feel alienated or something just because he's tons smarter than them. but anyway… the real question is…"
you roll your eyes when she pauses for effect, tentatively leaning closer to whisper under her breath.
"is he cute?"
you didn't want to answer her question, but he's been stuck in your head since he offered walking with you to the student affairs office. doyoung had smiled his cute gummy smile and had even ruffled your hair before leaving you for committee duties — saying he's cute would be an understatement.
"you have no idea."
for his first act;
he gains your trust.
fast forward to one year, many things have changed, but the only constant remaining is the handsome sophomore — who is now a 3rd-year, by the way — whom you've met on your first day. coursework has been pretty tough this year. instead of the content written in your textbook, your mind is plagued by the horrible twist of fate your best friend had encountered; she didn't have enemies. or so you thought.
she disappeared in the middle of christmas break last year. her beaten up body was found only a month later, in january, floating around the university's lake. happy fucking new year.
the first time she chose to spend the holidays with you instead of her family back in her hometown, and that happens? some rotten luck you both have. it's why you didn't put it past her family to hate your guts with strong convictions. it's okay. the feeling's mutual. after all, it had been your best friends' own family, the same ones who had been so willing to take you in when you got kicked out, that were so eager to pin you as the murderer of their child. all under the argument that you have been the last person seen with her.
oh, the things her mom said about you when she had stormed into the police station, red in the face, tears streaming down her cheeks..."i warned my baby not to hang out with that — that bitch. came straight out of a cursed family, that one. abusive dad, a nutjob mom. that bitch is a danger! probably got her dad's nasty temper and beat my baby to death! i want her on the electric chair!"
in those times, you once again realize this world is fucked up and cruel in every bit of its glory as you fought tooth and nail to defend yourself. but even then, they never believed you — the law will only favor the rich . the prosecution had been so sure it was you until a certain witness appeared and presented himself before the jury.
"do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"
doyoung raises his right hand, fixing his stare straight at the judge. "i solemnly and sincerely declare that the evidence i shall give will be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."
"how long have you known the defendant?" the prosecutor asks, arms crossed in front of her chest as she paces in front of the witness stand.
the boy briefly meets your gaze, and it's enough to make his heart sink. doyoung can't bear seeing you in those grey overalls when he knows it himself. you're being accused of a crime you didn't commit. "i've known her for one year."
"how'd you meet?"
and the questions went on and on; your defense attorney isn't all too keen on winning the case and had never once yelled "objection!" in her seat, but what could you expect? all the evidence kept stacking against you, and some of those you knew were even fabricated. you've never felt this hopeless in your whole twenty years of living.
"what's the point in this, anyway?" doyoung snapped in the witness stand, fiercely glaring at the prosecutor. "how is my history — or lack thereof — with the defendant any relevant to the case? you're not even asking me about evidence nor what my statement is!"
"easy there," the prosecutor retaliates, jaw locked. "i have to first measure what exactly your relationship is with the defendant for us to think twice about your statement. who knows..." the prosecutor makes a grand gesture of turning her head in your direction, affixing you with a condescending stare. "she might've just hired you to say these things."
your attorney doesn't come to your aid.
"perjury isn't my thing."
the prosecutor seems to have taken offense by the tone of doyoung's voice, but he doesn't let her speak further. "the victim isn't all sunshine and rainbows, you know. she'd been a part of a sorority and one with quite a nasty reputation in the college, too. i have to say she made very poor decisions, ones i'm sure her family didn't even know about. you see, they take their oaths and pledges very seriously. the victim wanted out. they didn't like that."
"and you have evidence to support this claim?"
without a moment to waste, he digs around the front pocket of his jeans before proudly presenting a black usb between his slender fingers. "knock yourself out."
the professor calls your name, snapping you out of your reverie. this isn't the first time your mind had transported you back to that particular day in the courtroom, where doyoung had swooped in and saved you from a lifetime in prison. the whole ordeal had been so scary, so frightening that you remember everything vividly as if it had only happened yesterday.
the classroom is empty. even your social psych professor has long packed up his stuff and is already standing by the classroom door. damn. were you that out of it?
"i'm so sorry." you mutter under your breath monotonously as you walk past him and out the door without another word. this is bad, very bad. no one would help, much less lend their notes to someone charged with murder — especially of their very own best friend. whether you were innocent or not doesn't matter to the student body. you've been ostracized, gossips of your problematic family spreading like wildfire, and the ridiculous part is only a fourth of the gossips are true.
the damage is done.
at this point, you realize with a heavy heart that you have to face doyoung again sooner or later. you haven't talked to him at all since the start of the new school year, ignoring his lighthearted greetings in the hallways, rejecting his calls, ghosting his texts. you are afraid people would judge him harshly for hanging around you. frankly, you were embarrassed to ask any more favors from him with how much he's done for you already and the fact that he had seen you in such a state of vulnerability.
but you also didn't want to fail your subjects and lose the one thing holding your life together — your scholarship.
that is why you found yourself standing before him, in his favorite spot in the library tucked behind shelves upon shelves of books, next to the windows overlooking the empty football field. he's wearing black-rimmed glasses and is clad in the usual navy blue sweater as his head turns to and fro between a textbook and his notebook. the air had been so silent, you hear the aggressive scratches his pencil makes against the paper.
you feel a little hurt when he makes no move to acknowledge your presence, but you think back to what you have been doing and figured he has a right to act this way.
"hey, doyoung." your voice is meek, hesitant.
"if you're not here to explain nor give me an acceptable reason why you've been ignoring me for the last few months, then please get out of my sight. i'm busy, as you can tell." he is brutally honest, knocking down the remaining hope you have left of ever reconciling with him.
something within you snaps, the steady streams of tears running down your cheeks as you pinned your stare on doyoung's open pencil case lying on the table. you have nobody left. your family — father, specifically speaking — has disowned you for taking a course your heart wanted, and the one friend you have lies motionless in a white coffin buried six feet under the ground. you didn't want to lose doyoung, too, no matter what role he plays in your life.
"i'm sorry," your voice cracks. "life's been… fucking shitty, and i'm sure you of all people know what i've been through. i've thanked you before for — for what you did, and i'm thanking you again right now but — i'm sorry, i'm really —"
your voice cracks when you feel him pulling you into an embrace. you feel the tension in your body breaking loose as you crumble in his arms. all those months grieving and wallowing in self-pity took such a heavy toll that you can't help but tightly clutch the sides of his hoodie, scared he'll slip through your fingers.
one of his hands comes up to push your face against the crook of his neck, muffling your cries in the silent library. doyoung felt like a jerk for snapping at you the way he did. how inconsiderate can he be? however, he felt elated because you sought him out yourself and wanted his help of all people.
his eyebrow raises in amusement.
well, not that you have a choice, anyway.
it took you a few good minutes to calm down, cringing when you see the wet patch on doyoung's sweater because of your tears.
"why don't you tell me everything, hmm? i'll help you as much as i can."
you sheepishly look down, fiddling with your fingers as you sit across him, the open textbook and notebook before him long forgotten. "well, i've been so out of it lately? my mind's just a whole bloody mess and i can't focus on any of my subjects at all and if i can't, then i'll lose the scholarship and it's the only thing i have in my life right now —"
"hey," doyoung cuts you off, placing a warm hand against your forearm to calm you down. "you won't lose that scholarship. trust me, okay? why don't we arrange tutoring sessions and i'll even lend you some of my notes from last year. what do you think?"
"okay... thank you, doyoung."
"for the record, you have me in your life, too. i'll always be here for you."
in the first session, you woke up from your deep slumber with only 15 minutes to spare from the scheduled time, but thankfully, your tutor only lives one floor down with the rest of the 3rd-years. bringing nothing with you but a pen and a pad of paper, your textbooks were destroyed as some students from your batch thought it'd be fun to throw them into the lake to "honor" your friend.
you offer a small smile when taeyong opens the door, sporting an oversized shirt and track pants, eyes wide in shock when he sees you. "hi? can i help you?"
"hello! i'm here for doyoung. he's tutoring —"
"he doesn't live here anymore. his mom bought him a place outside the campus."
what?
"i'm sorry for disturbing you, then. do you by any chance know where he lives?"
that's weird. doyoung never mentioned he's already moved out. you feel a wee bit irritated that he forgot to tell you; it would've saved you the embarrassment of interacting with the varsity player. you weren't stupid, you can see the hints of repulsion in taeyong's eyes the moment he opened that door and saw you standing before him, no doubt thinking about: oh, look, it's the crazy murderer with a fucked up family standing in front of me.
he had shut the door in your face. you stood awkwardly for a good minute in the hallway until the door reopens, taeyong handing you a small piece of paper with doyoung's new address scribbled hurriedly in black ink. he doesn't give you a chance to thank him for he's already closed the door again without another word.
you opted walking to his place instead of catching a ride because the money you have on you is enough to buy yourself dinner. to say the least, the apartment building is mediocre, not too grand, nor is it too rundown. double-checking the floor level written on the paper before pushing the elevator's button, you then realize doyoung lives on the very top floor of the building.
the hallways are painted a boring brown. some acrylic number signs plastered on the doors are broken, hanging vertically with one screw left. it says on the paper he resides in room 720. taking the right hallway, you mentally count as you eye the mahogany doors. 718… 719… there it is!
when you raise a fist to start knocking on his door, there is a tinge of hesitation surging through you. perhaps being alone with a boy in his apartment is not the best setting for a girl like you should end up in, but this is doyoung we're talking about. if he had ill intentions for you, it would've manifested a long time ago. you shake your head, feeling bad for thinking of him that way as you slowly knock on his front door. not long after, it swings open, revealing the 3rd-year in a white shirt and boxers as he lazily dries his hair off with a small towel.
"you're late," is the first thing he says to you before spinning on his heel to disappear further into his humble abode.
"you didn't exactly inform me you've moved out of the dorms. so, whose fault is it?" you retaliate, inviting yourself in and closing the front door shut.
"whatever. let's get started!" he plops himself on the floor, coffee table filled with loose papers as he struggles to find a specific one amongst the mess. "i've already scanned, exported to pdf, and emailed you my notes. it should be in your inbox by now. anyway, answer this quiz i made so i know what i'll be working on."
"you didn't really have to send your notes, doyoung. i could've just read everything from the textbook," you sit down across from him because otherwise, you'll be too distracted to remember information.
a thought crosses his mind. with what textbook?
"i just think it's missing some essence. that's why i love reading over other psych books in the library for fun. be grateful, those notes are like my babies and i don't simply give them to anyone," he looks at you pointedly. "they've all been summarized and explained in layman's terms so you wouldn't have to spend grueling hours of reading and trying to make sense of the big words as i did — i know that's not the definition of 'fun' normally, but it is for me, and that's why i do it."
"okay, doyoung. you sound so defensive when there's nothing to be defensive about," you tease, feeling pleased with the hint of red on his cheeks as he averts his gaze from yours, muttering incoherent words under his breath.
you spent the following tuesdays, thursdays, and sundays like that; hours upon hours with no one but your tutor, laptops with tangled chargers, a printed copy of his babies, and a mountain pile of loose papers filled with the specialized quizzes doyoung makes to measure your progress. the location varies from a cafe or his flat. but in what you've gathered from the time you spent with him, doyoung's a homebody. cafe tutor sessions are rare, and he always complained about how "noisy" the atmosphere was — "i can't stand it."
but the conversation hadn't always been about academics.
sure, for the first few sessions, doyoung kept an image of professionalism and had heavily insisted on it — "it's for your learning experience!" — despite your lighthearted teasing. but as time passed and he eventually grew more comfortable in your presence, you find the strict 15-minute break he had initially imposed between 45 minutes of studying turned into hours of talking about whatever; how he likes his eggs in the morning, your favorite coffee brew, his favorite show, your strongest pet peeve.
and you wholly welcomed the change, not minding that it's practically dark out whenever you go back to your miserable dorm. you feel butterflies in your stomach whenever doyoung offers to walk you home but never had you taken his offer, still cautious of other people seeing you both together despite his constant reassurances. you've already thoroughly ruined your image. you didn't want to ruin his, too.
kdy the cute tutor, 2:14 pm
—last day of midterms! & its all majors today
—good luck
—remember what i taught u
—lets get ice cream after u cant say no
you shake your head bemusedly. his texting style is the most doyoung thing he does and it's as if you can hear him say these things to you in real life. too caught up in your own world, you fail to detect another student sitting next to you and had nearly fallen off your chair in shock when they spoke.
"why are your notes like that?"
you fight the urge to glare at the person, especially when you turn your head and see lee jeno looking at you in genuine curiosity. he's the only batchmate that treats you a wee bit nicer among the rest. although he isn't technically your friend, at least he doesn't look at you like you're a piece of bubblegum stuck under his shoe like all the others.
"what do you mean?"
"they're… the definitions are all jumbled up. where did you even get that?"
what? jumbled up? doyoung himself said these notes are a combination of most of the psychology books he had read last year concerning his subjects. how would it be jumbled up? then again, lee jeno was not tutored by the prodigy himself. maybe things are bound to seem "jumbled up" when information is too great to understand for a feeble mind.
just as you were about to claim these notes aren't yours, the professor has already waltzed into the classroom with a thick wad of papers — the exams. after one last concerned glance directed your way, jeno averts his gaze with a confused tilt of the head.
hours later, you walk out of the classroom with the biggest smile on your face. aced it, you thought. your hands feel numb with how much you wrote on the essay portion but it's worth it if it meant you get the full 25 points, which you no doubt will as it was a topic you surely tackled with doyoung. speaking of... he sure is a man of his word.
"what are you doing here?" you hiss, head ducked with hair framing your face as to not draw attention from the rest of the students filing out of the testing hall.
"i texted you that we're getting ice cream. remember?"
"i did. but i didn't remember agreeing."
he shoots you a comforting smile, planting his hands firmly on your shoulder. “i told you, y/n. i don't care if they all see us together, so what? we all know you didn't commit that crime and it wasn't your fault you were born into the family you had. i don't care about the trivial things, baby, so don't shy away from me, okay?"
how the fuck can you say 'no' when he's looking at you the way he is as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear? doyoung's just so bewitching that he has you wrapped around his slender fingers. he seems pleased when you stumbled over your words as you come up with a reply, caught off guard by his bold gestures.
"i just — you, uhh — fine..." you gave in, rolling your eyes out of pretense.
he just had to call you 'baby' and erupt the butterflies in your stomach.
it had been doing that for the last few months now and it had only truly manifested today when he took you out for ice cream to celebrate the end of hell week. and since you didn't want to go back to your dorm yet, you asked if you guys can watch some movies in his house but it had simply become background noise to your heart-to-heart talks. and what better accompaniment than the classic, chicken and beer?
you listen to him drone on and on about the little realizations he had on some of his past lectures even when you barely understood anything he's saying. doyoung's so lucky to be extremely good at something he's so passionate about, talks about the human mind and the complexity of a person's behavior will never fail to make his eyes light up in interest.
he calls out your name.
your eyes snap open.
"why don't we get you home? it's past 10 and it's alright, stupid, you don't need to pretend to be interested in my psychological findings." he chuckled light-heartedly, stealing the can of the now room-temperature beer from your hands before you can protest.
"i wasn't dozing off, i swear."
"i caught you in the act. stop lying."
like all the other times he has you as his guest, doyoung once again offers to walk you home and you decline for the thousandth time. it really isn't that much of a long walk anyway. you don't see the need for him to go out of his way to secure your safety. plus, you were the one who insisted on hanging out in his house anyway. you weren't that thick-skinned to let him take you home, too.
"you're drunk!" he scolds.
“no, i’m not. i can perfectly handle myself."
"but —"
"bye!"
you feel a little guilty for shutting the door in his face. still, a minute longer of his persistence and you would've taken his offer. unfortunately for doyoung, you are one stubborn girl. only if you don't make brisk movements with your head, then you won't see doubles. you'll be fine, it's just a quick walk and it's not as if you're stupid enough to pass by deserted alleys.
but you had underestimated the divine prowess of your fucked up fate.
everything happened in a matter of three seconds; one, the blinding headlights illuminate your path from behind; two, you hear the loud honk, and as you turn around — three, the vehicle sends you rolling against the asphalt.
you should have taken the alleyways.
for his second act;
he alters your reality.
when you open your eyes, you thought you were dead and your spirit is wandering elsewhere — because you don't believe in trivial things like heaven and god — until an agitated doyoung comes into view. for a split second, you thought, is he dead, too?
"i'm not dead, you idiot." too dazed, you hardly register his anger. "i can perfectly handle myself, she said. i'm not drunk, she said. this wouldn't have happened if you had simply let me walk you home! you're damn fucking lucky you're alive and breathing right now!"
a person clears their throat.
"i don't think it wise to… nag at the patient the moment she wakes. don't you agree, sir?"
pink splotches on doyoung's cheek as he looks down, embarrassed at getting scolded as he stands closer to your bed. "i'm sorry, doc."
you didn't know when your vision cleared or when you started hearing normally again, but it was enough to find out what exactly had transpired on the very night of your tragic accident. a hit and run. fifty-fifty chance of surviving. doyoung getting a call from the hospital in the middle of the night —"they were trying to contact your dad, but he wasn't answering. i was the last person in your call history."
six months in a coma. but today, you wake… only to find out your world has crashed and burned.
"what do you mean i lost my scholarship?"
"baby, listen to me —"
"why did they take it away? is it because of my accident? i'm behind by one term only and i swear i can catch up. they need to let me back in the program. there must've been some mistake —"
"your gpa didn't reach the cut-off grade."
that can't be possible.
"but you tutored me!" you claim with conviction, pointing an accusatory finger at him until you groan, bowing in pain as you clutch your head.
doyoung springs into action. the chair's legs screech against the tiles as he jumps to your aid, ushering you gently back against the hospital bed despite your refusal. "you're not well. lay back down, please."
you don't hear a single word he says, not when you had lost something so crucial. "i put in the effort and learned everything you taught me... i aced those fucking mid-terms! i know i did!" you were on the brink of tearing up as doyoung settled himself in front of you.
"i… i actually saw your papers," his lips set in a thin, hard-line. "everything was all wrong, sweetheart. what happened to you? i tried reasoning with the professors, mentioned your state — you know, with your best friend dying — but they didn't relent. i'm sorry y/n. i'm so —"
gone. everything is gone. the money. the dorm. what if they ask you to pay the fees from last year? what if they ask you to pay the tuition fee for this year? you have no money, no family, no relatives. no one to help. who's even going to pay for the hospital fees?
you weren't able to process anything after that. not with the sudden news of your now revoked scholarship. doyoung pulls you in a tight hug. "i was a bad tutor," he says, snapping you out of it. "maybe i shouldn't have pushed you that hard to learn them. why were your answers even mixed up y/n? i thought you knew those topics already…"
he pulls away, observing your confused state as your eyes dart everywhere in the room. "what — how are they mixed up? i know i got them right. there has to be some mistake. you taught me those topics, remember?"
"i did... "he averts his gaze. "but i don't remember teaching them to you mixed up, darling. i think you did that all on your own."
"but… why would i mix up my answers? that's —"
"see, what i mean?" he cuts you off, raising a hand to give your cheek the most delicate caress. "you're not well, baby. you need to be treated, especially with how much you hit your head during the accident. don't worry, i'm here. we'll try asking if you can stay in the dorms at least until you find another place —"
"am i a charity case to you?"
oh, the surprise on the junior's face when you push him away as you pin him with a hard stare. you just don't get it. why is kim doyoung so adamant about helping you? in becoming your hero, even when you never asked him to be? if you let him help you this time around, that'll be the 3rd time he came to save your ass. it's not as if you're ungrateful. simply, you've had enough of his help. you don't know how a person like you, who literally has nothing, can return the favor to someone like doyoung.
"what are you saying —"
"i'm saying…" you fix him a hard stare. "you helping me out doesn't even benefit you in the slightest. so why do you do it?"
he pauses, staring at you with hesitance in his eyes as this seems to be the very first time you've truly seen him speechless. when doyoung opens his mouth, he mumbles, and you hardly make sense of what he said.
"do you really want to know why?"
you urge him on with an arched eyebrow, his softened tone creeping into your heart.
"you're someone special to me y/n. i don't know how or when i admitted it to myself, but you are, and it hurts me to see how shitty your luck is," he cracks a small grin, slowly settling back onto the hospital bed as he grabs your hand. "it's okay to seek help from others. it isn't a sign of vulnerability or weakness. i help you because i want to, and i'm more than willing to take care of you. will you let me?"
you're not blind. you've noticed the way he had slowly started coming closer as he continued to speak, hands held securely in his as he looked straight at your eyes then down at your lips. and so, you act in a way you know that will surely answer his question — with a kiss.
the man before you immediately reciprocates, overpowering your own eagerness as he curls the tips of his fingers into the roots of your hair. he pulls you close, cradling you against his chest. you can taste his desperation in the way his tongue dances against yours, the kiss transporting you into an alternate reality where your world revolves around doyoung and doyoung alone.
when he pulls away bleary-eyed, both of you ignore the thin strand of saliva connecting your lips. "how about you come live with me for the time being, my love?"
still high off his kiss and natural scent, you hardly mull over the question he asks you. "okay."
days later, after you've been discharged (he wanted to chip in for your hospital bills but you had given him a firm no), doyoung had been the one to show up at the dorm to collect all your things after leaving you in his apartment. the cutie had refused to simply drop you off and had deliberately accompanied you up the elevator, through the halls, and finally into his apartment.
"i'll be out for just a minute, sugarcube."
"oh, can you get take out?"
doyoung had smiled, playfully booping the tip of your nose. "no, because i'll be cooking for us tonight as a little celebration for you getting discharged. you'll love it; i'm making your favorite!"
it was funny how the night had been nothing but utter bliss. the foreign feeling of being taken care of sprouting in your chest as you watch him cooking from behind the counter. it felt… nice. but funny enough, as if doing a 360, you both had immediately gotten into an argument the next day.
"i don't see the need for skipping another day if i feel perfectly fine! i'll figure something out once we get there, doyoung, so can we just —"
"you' re not fine, babylove — hell, you got discharged yesterday! i'm not just about to let you back into the arena with those students. they've only grown more immature since your coma, love. i seriously don't want you near them."
"fine! then i won't talk to them. simple." you throw your hands up. "there. problem solved. now, can we please just go to uni? i need to talk to the dean and the head of student affairs, too —"
"i'm going to uni, not you."
maybe it had been the way he firmly stated his claim, the way his eyes pierced through your soul as if daring you to argue further with him that made you snap.
"i'm not a prisoner in this apartment, doyoung! don't treat me like i have the plague! i'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself — jesus christ, i've been doing it nearly half my fucking life!"
too caught up in your anger, you've failed to notice the tears pouring down his face as he sets his gaze on the floor.
"you're right," his voice cracks. "i shouldn't be pushy like that. i'm sorry. you just mean so much to me and i'm so scared of losing you again. with your coma — i just — it's like i was fighting a losing battle each day that passed when i saw you in that hospital bed. i've never felt so scared in my whole life and i hated myself for not being able to protect you that night."
his tears run like waterfalls, and when you step forward with your arms wide open, doyoung sobs harder as he pulls you against him. you hardly comprehend what he says as he spoke, shaking against your frail body as you felt his tears stain your blouse. "i'm sorry, i never should've dictated what you felt — i'm so sorry."
"no, it's okay. i was feeling a little lightheaded, anyway. i'll stay here and i can come back to school next semester, right? doyoung? just… please stop crying."
he lifts his head, staring at you with bloodshot eyes before giving your forehead a kiss. you let a relieved sigh escape your lips, melting into his warmth as you prop your chin on his shoulder. if you had only been more attentive, you would've seen the reflection of his wicked grin on the tabletops. too easy.
living with him became a blur after that incident. everything fell into a routine for the next four days as you spent the day watching netflix, eating, reading, sleeping. nothing felt fun anymore. but your peaceful life had ceased during the fifth night — the whispers, they woke you up. you can hear them from behind your door at night, and when you rouse awake, you see doyoung walking around the hallway from the tiny gap at the bottom of the door. you had sighed, falling back into your plush bed as you pray to god, he keeps it down.
but what he told you the next day rendered you speechless. "me, walking around the hallways? whispers?" he says, confused. "i was already asleep, love. knocked out cold the moment my body fell on the bed."
"but…"
he doesn't spare you a glance as he takes his sweet time skimming through his notes on the dining table, coffee in one hand. "maybe it's just the meds kicking in."
"no, surely it was real! i literally woke up in the middle of the night," you repeat. "it's okay if it was you, doyoung. i'm not mad."
he sets his coffee mug down a little too loud.
"well, you can't be mad at me, sugar, because like i said — it wasn't me," it doesn't take a genius to notice he's awfully cranky today. you observe him, dark half-moons under his eyes as he relentlessly reads his notes with instant coffee in one hand.
"you're just imagining things, okay? stop acting crazy."
for some reason, the way he had uttered certain words like 'imagining' and 'crazy' made you curl into your seat in embarrassment. he was right that your doctor did prescribe a generous amount of pills per day, but his tone made it feel off, made you feel like there was something wrong with you even when there wasn't…
right?
you didn't say a word after that and had hesitantly pecked him on the cheek before he left for school. with the amount of time you're with him, two things stood out to you — his keen sense of observation and his knack for reading people. you highly doubt he didn't notice a shift in your behavior but a part of you thinks it's just the stress talking. he is about to take his finals and had recently started on his research paper.
every psych student is required to present a paper in accordance with the department's annual theme. it could be anything from proposing a theory (if you dare) to constructing a well-developed psychology model. if you don't turn one in, you don't graduate — the paper's that important, and you've been bugging him for so long about sneaking a peek on what his study is about. but he always refused.
the next week came rolling around, and both of you had been spending every day together due to the semestral break. the arguments have significantly lessened, but your episodes — eventually, you started calling it that way because that's how doyoung labels it — have only gotten worse. you end up moving out of the guest room and into his. privacy be damned. the whispers stopped momentarily but what came next became your imminent downfall.
the first time you heard it, you thought you were dreaming. but the doorknob kept rattling aggressively even as you sat up. just as you climb off the bed, your half-asleep boyfriend asks where you're going.
"bathroom," you lied.
you were always the one to snort when it comes to the supernatural, claiming it's all bullshit. yet, as whatever outside continues to fight its way inside the room, the rattling progressing into loud bangs against the door, you're not so sure of your beliefs anymore. you're not crazy. nothing is wrong with you, and you're perfectly fine. this apartment is cursed, and you are going to prove that to doyoung.
grabbing your phone from the bedside table, you turn the flash on, pointing the camera at the door as you take a footage of the mad entity that has been playing games with you. a squeal escapes your lips when a particular bang! reverberates louder in the room than all the others. the phone slips your hand, falling onto the floorboards. you don't bother to retrieve it as you scramble to get yourself back under the blanket and into doyoung's comfortable warmth.
you snuggle yourself plush against his chest, shaking as you wrap your arms around his waist, inhaling his natural scent to anchor you back.
bang! bang! bang!
you didn't get a wink of sleep last night.
"can't the video wait? there's a new episode of start-up, and i want to watch it already!" he whines, shoving his face further on the throw pillow situated on your lap.
you giggle, shaking your head as you scroll through your gallery to find the video. i'm not imagining things. i'm not hallucinating. i'm not crazy. "here! watch... i'm telling you this apartment is haunted, and the ghost probably likes you, which is why it doesn't bother you —"
your lighthearted rambling cuts off when you notice no sound emitting from your phone. weird. you could've sworn you started recording right when the loud banging has already started. your heart drops upon the wary stare doyoung shoots you before he continues to watch the video.
no, no, no, no — please!
you quickly scoot over to his side, watching as the video unfolds before your very eyes. the shot was messy as the phone was handheld, not to mention you were panicking at the time. but the video is silent. not a single noise of a rattling doorknob or banging on the door can be heard through your phone's speakers.
"maybe — maybe you didn't turn the volume up?"
you hardly contain the mortification in your face when you realize the volume's at 100 already. and as if on cue, your squeal is heard in the video and the noise of the phone hitting the floor.
doyoung's silence shakes your whole being. as you kneel before him teary-eyed, your voice breaks. "i swear, i'm not crazy."
but at this point, you don't believe yourself anymore.
for his third and final act;
he triumphs.
his deprivation began in minuscule ripples.
it didn't take much effort on doyoung's end to convince you to stop studying for a year or two, at least, only until your hallucinations aren't as severe anymore. everyday felt like hell on earth as the fine line between what's real and what isn't has blurred over one too many times. in sheer paranoia of accidentally hurting him in his sleep, you moved out of his bedroom and had started sleeping in the guest room again — much to doyoung's frustration.
but he's a smart man, one that recognizes an opportunity amidst the hurdles thrown on his path.
"why does my door need a lock outside again?"
he approaches you, who’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, after screwing in the last of the screws that came with the new doorknob. doyoung is familiar with the look written on your face, has observed and studied you enough to navigate his way inside your pretty little head with ease.
he can't have you doubting him, can he?
"you know i'm all about protecting you, right?" he starts. you nodded. "i've been doing it for a year now, and i will continue to do so until you need me to. the world is a bad place, sweetheart, remember? your own best friend's mother tried framing you. your dad disowned you. you've been ostracized in the whole college... do you think i'm just like the rest of them, baby?"
doyoung has already mastered the perfect expression of a kicked-puppy, one that easily pulls at your heartstrings and has you cooing at him.
"no!" you say with conviction, reaching forward to thread your fingers through his. "i know you're different, not like any of them at all. i know you're only doing what's… best for me."
he ignores the underlying hesitance in your tone. that will be corrected, sooner or later.
doyoung tightens his hold as he kisses the back of your hand. such an innocent gesture — but such ill intentions.
"the outside lock helps me in protecting you, love. you don't need to worry about anything. just focus on getting better, alright? i'll keep the bad guys away from you."
it was during his first semester of senior year, a few months back, doyoung and a good few students of his batch had been granted the opportunity to intern for a mental hospital located near the edge of the city. he was supposed to decline the offer but you convinced him to take the spot. it had only been a two-week “job” yet it was enough for doyoung to conclude — he’d rather kill you than subject you to the horrors of what the patients have to go through in the loony bin.
eventually, the small ripples shift into unforgiving waves, dragging you into the depths as everything comes crashing down before your very own eyes.
it should have been like any other day inside the apartment. doyoung's already gone in the morning to attend classes. though not before setting a tray of your brunch on the nightstand, making sure to lock your door on his way out. he knew your nightmares and anxiety kept you up at night, resulting in longer hours of sleep during the day.
turns out, you moving out of his bedroom had been a blessing in disguise. coming home to an empty apartment has become his biggest fear yet, and you unconsciously found a solution for him. one that doesn’t have him fidgeting on his seat as he counts down the minutes ‘til he’s back by your side.
doyoung smiles unconsciously as he listens to his professor drone on and on in front of him — his mind at peace, knowing you're safe and sound in your little prison.
until he received a text that made his blood run cold.
ty, 11:34 am
—im done.
meanwhile, you rouse awake once more to thunderous poundings against your bedroom door. oh no, you thought. it's happening again. this time, there'll be no doyoung barging into your room, half-asleep and hair messy, as he tries to calm you down. you throw the blankets over you as you sob, hugging your legs against your chest as you try to 'wake yourself up' from the hallucination.
the person outside calls for your name, the desperation in their tone alighting a new-found fear in your heart. you don't know what's real anymore. is this truly happening, or is it another hallucination your fucked up mind has conjured up?
"please! it's taeyong! y/n, can you hear me?"
taeyong?
slowly, your head peaks above the blanket, warily staring at the door. doyoung has warned you about these kinds of things, has practically ingrained in your mind that whoever comes looking for you will take you away from him. not to mention, doyoung slipped one time and said he isn’t friends with taeyong anymore.
the banging on the door progresses.
“are you in there? answer me! i can’t find the key!”
you don’t say anything, merely pushing the covers off your body as you keep your eyes fixed on the beating door. it looks like it’s about to pop out its hinges as taeyong relentlessly fights his way inside your room. what are you going to do? do you open the door? oh. right. you can’t do that on your own accord. the key is with doyoung and he isn’t in the apartment at the moment.
all your thoughts come to a halt when the boy outside sends the door flying open, finally breaking the lock with one powerful kick. you flinch back, his actions pushing you on your feet, wanting to place a maximum amount of distance from the intruder.
taeyong looks frantic, disheveled as he immediately notices your alarmed state. he approaches you cautiously, hands up to show his empty palms. “hey, hey… it’s just me, y/n. i’m not going to hurt you. i’m not the enemy here.”
“doyoung doesn’t know you’re here, does he?”
the look of surprise on his face is an answer in itself. for someone doyoung had proudly claimed to have “broken” you’re still quite quick to catch up on things, taeyong observed. and he doesn’t know what to feel about it — pity? guilt?
“that’s not important!” he claims, boldly surging forward to grasp your shoulders with a firm grip. taeyong felt his heart dropping when you flinch under his grasp.
“listen to me. we need to get you out of here. doyoung isn’t — he isn’t everything you thought he is!” he can’t help but raise his voice, panic surging through him because there’s not much time left and you aren’t exactly cooperating. you’ve been trying to shrug off his hold the whole time.
“do you think he actually loves you?”
“he does! stop saying bullshit!”
“doyoung never loved anyone and you want to know why? because he’s too in love with his research to care for anything else!” taeyong felt bad to have been so direct, especially when he sees the tears now falling freely down your cheeks. “listen to me, y/n! i’m not the enemy! if there’s anyone you should be pushing away, it’s doyoung! he turned you into his lab rat! you are nothing but a variable in his study! don’t you get it?”
taeyong grabs a firm but gentle hold of your head, trying to make you look at him straight in the eye for the gravity of what he’s about to say to you.
“doyoung had his eye on you since sophomore year. i told him this was a bad idea and that he should change the topic of the research and he was. fucking hell, he was about to scrap the whole thing until your bestfriend died and did you know what that psycho told me? that it was a sign for him to continue the research! and i’ve been pestering him so much that he moved out because he claimed i was going to get in the way of his discovery.
tell you what, if you can tell me right here, right now, that he has mentioned anything — anything at all — about his study to you then everything i’m saying is a lie.”
you have asked doyoung for the longest time about that research but the answers have always been the same. “not yet, my love. it’s not time for it to be seen with your eyes. soon, okay?”
with a voice not louder than a whisper, you ask. “what… what’s his research about?”
you fail to see the sorry look on taeyong’s face. “in psychology, they say a person only develops psychosis mainly through genetics or drugs. although you’re technically already a worthy “lab rat” considering your mom and upbringing, he wanted to expand the external factors of what causes the disorder — grief, grades, toxic family relations…”
you hear a ringing in your ear and a sudden urge to throw up. only, you didn’t have anything to hurl because your brunch remains untouched on your bedside.
“but he hadn’t been successful. and that’s… that’s where i came along. doyoung thought the medications he’s been giving you isn’t doing what he wanted it to and he knew he needed a little push. i was… i gave him that push. remember the whispers, the banging on the door at night? it was all me. he made me do it. you know what that means, right? you’re not crazy. you don’t need to stay here cooped up like some kind of pet, believing all his lies as if it’s written in a fucking bible —”
he stops. and if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t’ve heard the familiar beeps of the front door’s automated lock going off. doyoung’s home.
in lightning speed, taeyong has you sheltered behind him, throwing his warm coat over you in the process, hoping to give the smallest comfort amidst the chaos that’s about to erupt. there’s no point in pretending or hiding — one look at that lock and his crazy friend would know something’s off.
taeyong feels you flinching behind him with every heavy footstep against the floorboards as doyoung wastes no time in getting to your room. and when he finally appears, hands braced against the door frame, you’ve never been this scared your whole life. his eyes are drawn into slits, fixated on taeyong alone. “how fucking dare you?”
“it’s over, doyoung. give it up or you wouldn’t have to suffer a longer sentence than you’ll already get.” taeyong tried with his whole being to appear intimidating.
“what’re you saying, yong? i meant, how fucking dare you barge in here and disturb my girlfriend in her sleep? that’s not very nice of you…” doyoung sports a disarming gummy smile as he approaches, hand outstretched and beckoning towards you. “c’mere, baby. i don’t think you’ve eaten lunch yet?”
“drop the fucking act, you psycho!”
“what act?” doyoung tilts his head innocently, gaze shifting from taeyong’s and yours, who keeps peeking from over his ex-friend’s shoulder. luring you out is a piece of cake unless taeyong decides to make things a wee bit more complicated, doyoung thought. “i’m just concerned for my darl —”
“we’re leaving.” taeyong cuts him off, breaking eye contact as he places a firm grip around your wrist. he pulls you towards him, farther away from your supposed lover as he tries walking past doyoung.
but the said man pushes taeyong back with a humorless smile on his face. “and who told you that you can do that?”
a pregnant silence befalls the room as the two men size each other up. they regard each other with such hostility, you can't help but unconsciously fist the back of taeyong's sweater in nervousness, prompting the man to turn his head over his shoulder for a swift second to check up on you.
but a second is all that doyoung needed to deliver the first kick towards taeyong's legs, throwing him off his balance. if it was one thing doyoung knew, is that he needed to eliminate taeyong's agility all together if he wants to win against him.
but taeyong isn't one to back down. the moment doyoung straddles him on the floor, with a fist raised to throw a punch, taeyong grunts as he rolls them around. doyoung now receiving taeyong's rain of fists as he yells. "fuck you! you manipulative asshole!"
you sat on the corner, horrified of the scene happening before you. you've never seen doyoung this way. he has always been your sweet, caring bunny, but after everything taeyong said, you aren't so sure you even know the man you've been living with.
"everything i did, i did it for her!" you flinch at the sound of bones breaking as doyoung kicked taeyong's ribs. "she had nothing to lose! i saved her!"
the door is open, you noticed. wide-open and inviting you to make a run for it. and you would have made a run for it... but taeyong. you can't leave him behind, not when he lays there bloody and grunting in pain as doyoung lets his anger take over him. so, as stupid as may be, you did it. you had to.
"you didn't save me," you say, schooling your face into indifference as doyoung whips around, forgetting about taeyong in the bat of an eye. "you caged me in here, treated me like there's something wrong with me, gaslighted me into believing everything you said! and... what did you say? 'saved me'? you made me go through hell!"
the whole time, taeyong tries his hardest to stand upright, but his broken ribs don't allow him to. the pain too great that he had no choice but to crawl instead, arms pulling his weight as he drags himself across the floorboards, desperately trying to get doyoung's attention back on him even if it meant getting beaten to death.
meanwhile, he had his eyes trained on you the whole time you spoke, sobbing as you walk backward in fear as doyoung approached you with a dark glint in his eye. he doesn't like what you're saying; that much is very clear. he wanted to yell at you, to scream of your ungratefulness despite his constant care but instead, he says.
"i thought we were making progress, baby. i guess i have to drill everything in your brain again. you're not okay, but you will be after i treat you."
you try to fight the urge to look at taeyong as he finds his strength, silently rising up from the floor to ambush doyoung while he's so busy preaching about you.
"what i said is true, baby. do you actually think this scum over here is doing this to save you? do you actually believe everything he said? i've been here since day-1, my love. literally. and have i ever let you down? no. everything i'm doing is for us. even this damned research!"
taeyong surges forward to put him in a chokehold, but everything happened so fast, and the next thing you knew —
"did you actually think i'd fall for that?"
you didn't know the sound of a knife cutting through flesh could sound that loud, but nothing could beat the strained gasp that tumbled through taeyong's lips as he shakily held the knife pierced through his heart. you would've been concerned about how doyoung got it so accurate in one go or where the knife even came from. but you were too busy screaming, collapsing against the wall as you let out a broken sob.
"no," you mutter. "no, no, no..."
you can't bear to avert your eyes from taeyong as he lies dying before you. the look of fear in his eyes would forever be ingrained in your mind, and no amount of brainwashing or gaslighting would ever make you forget.
doyoung killed him. you lost.
the knife clatters loudly on the floor as he slowly turns around as if he himself has yet to register what he did. you didn't know what to expect from doyoung's reaction but certainly not the eerie smile that starts spreading on his face.
"now... how about that lunch, baby?"
✉ : a repost no one asked but i respectfully dont give a fuck <3
#hmu if i missed a warning#yandere doyoung#yandere kpop#yandere nct#yandere nct 127#tw swearing#tw manipulation#tw violence#tw knife
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Fake It Til You Make It
A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfiction - approx. 2200 words. This scene takes place post-romantic epilogue. Fluff and a little spice.
First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden
Previous: Adrift
Kyubei watched the innkeeper through narrowed eyes. Though the man was clearly nervous, he didn’t seem to be lying. His story hadn’t changed in the last three tellings, so either he was an accomplished liar or he was telling the truth.
“L-lord Akechi and the woman left with one of the Akechi warriors. Right after we saw the fire across the lake,” the innkeeper said for the fourth time. “Then the storm came and after that, no one saw him.”
“Do you remember anything else? Did anyone else come in after they left? Did you see anyone acting strangely?”
The man shook his head. “No, I mean, not really? Everyone was a bit strange after we saw the blaze. Wondering if Azuchi was still standing.” He frowned. “You think it might have been Lord Akechi? Him disappearing like that right after -”
Kyubei cut him off. “No. That was the work of the Mouri clan.” It wasn’t the first person he’d spoken with that suspected. And why wouldn’t they? Mitsuhide was only just back from his misadventure at the shogun’s side. An ally in disgrace. A man not to be trusted.
The worst part of all this was that Kyubei really had no idea what his lord wanted him to do. Should he quash the rumors? Encourage them? Mitsuhide’s instructions from his last letter said nothing about an attack on Azuchi - not like this - and nothing about disappearing. Of course, he pretended like he knew exactly what was going on. He had to, until he received additional instructions.
“So . . . am I free to go?” The innkeeper was frowning now. His nervousness replaced by a desire to get back to making money at the inn.
“For now,” Kyubei said. He gave the man a hard stare. “If I need anything else, I will send someone for you.”
The innkeeper bowed and left, leaving Kyubei alone with his thoughts. It really seemed that in the storm, his lord had simply vanished into thin air. And Miyake too.
Perhaps they'd left with Ranmaru, who was also missing. But if so, there would be a letter. A message. Something!
The castle staff had no idea where he was - they’d waited for him to return for hours. Miyake’s squad couldn’t find their commander either. Both men were expected.
And the chatelaine . . . his lady. Kyubei worried that he had failed to protect her again.
***
Morning came with pale light through a high window. It fell across four careworn, sleeping faces. Sasuke and Miyake lay in a tangle of blankets on the floor, and in a bed, Mitsuhide clung to his little mouse. He woke with the first notes of bird-song, but kept his eyes shut. He wasn’t ready to confront the strange world of 500 years in the future just yet.
His little one stirred in his arms as the sound of morning birds turned into a hum of outside activity. “Is it . . . are we really . . .” She opened her eyes and looked around Sarutobi’s flat. “We’re really here.”
Mitsuhide nodded.
“I want to be happy about it, but . . .”
He shushed her with a kiss. “It will be fine. Worrying won’t return us faster.”
She sighed and buried her face against his chest. “I know. I just hope everyone is alright.”
“They will be,” Mitsuhide reassured her. He didn’t think of it as a lie - simply an assumption he based on his past experience. Nobunaga would handle this threat as he did others that came before it.
And Kyubei would see to what the left hand needed to be doing.
Sasuke sat up, rubbing his face. “I apologize for the accommodations,” he told them. The same apology he’d given the night before.
“At least we had somewhere to sleep.” The chatelaine sat up and wiggled out of the blanket. “I should probably check on my flat and see if it’s still mine. If so, we won't have to impose on you a second night. Although,” she sighed. “I don’t have my ID or my keys or anything.”
“I don't mind,” Sasuke replied. “You are welcome to continue crashing here. Although, we may not be here for long. Weren’t there activities you wanted to do in this time? While you can?” His left eyebrow lifted almost imperceptibly.
Mitsuhide gave her one of his slow, warm smiles. His fingers traced a path down her spine. “Yes, you did mention some things I would like to see, since we are here.”
His little mouse arched like a cat against his hand. “I did . . . yes. Alright. Since we’re here, we might as well try to enjoy it!”
Miyake rolled over on the floor and pulled the blanket over his head.
“I take it that means you plan to stay here for the day?”
Sasuke answered for the half-asleep warrior. “Actually, I would really appreciate it if Miyake would accompany me. I need to go to my university and make some arrangements.”
Miyake groaned and sat up. He blinked as his gaze went around the room, taking in all the strange objects. Finally, he settled on the ninja. “You need protection or something?”
“No. I don’t think anyone will attack me.” Sasuke felt around for his glasses and slid them on. “But I expect to be moving some heavy equipment in the lab. And I may have a friend who can help us out with those arrangements, if you're there to corroborate my story.”
“Corr what?” Miyake frowned.
“Authenticate. Like a two factor security key.” The ninja grinned.
The warrior looked to Mitsuhide uncertainly.
“If Sarutobi believes you can assist him today, then that is what you will do. I am sure my fiancée and I will be fine.”
The chatelaine looked less certain about this, but she nodded agreement.
The four of them took turns dressing in the ‘washroom’ to give each other privacy. His morning was one of surprise as the . . . toilet . . . squirted him with water. And warm or cold water came from a metal spigot at the turn of a handle too, spilling into a porcelain basin. There were more smokeless lanterns - electric lights they were called - and other wonders.
Had Mitsunari been there, he was sure the scholar could have spent weeks studying every device but Mitsuhide just needed to know how to use it.
In this place, he was the naïve child, and his little one, the wise teacher. Such a shift in their positions was hard to take. Mitsuhide didn’t think of himself as arrogant but this situation was humbling in the extreme. Thankfully, he managed to get through dressing and breakfast without any serious mishaps.
Sasuke and Miyake left to the university. The flat was silent in their wake. Mitsuhide and his little mouse sat on the edge of the bed. She was tapping away at a . . . tablet . . . to get access to her accounts. The electronic scroll was interesting, at least. With pictures and writing all lit up so you could read it even in the dark.
Mitsuhide stood and stretched, trying to get used to moving in his new clothes. They were Sarutobi’s and didn’t quite fit. He was dressed in a pair of pants that clung tightly to his legs and ended short of his ankle. The top was a soft weave, dyed black. It sported an odd blue character on it and the word Sonic. Sarutobi said the picture was a hedgehog, whatever that was.
He would have liked to wear something without a picture on it. He’d had the choice between this one and something with a lizard that walked on two legs and shot fire from its mouth. Those were the only two shirts the ninja had that were long enough to cover him to his waist. And there was no way he was walking around with a bare midriff. Even if his little mouse looked interested in the idea.
Her midriff was bare afterall, she’d laughed. And it was - sort of. She tied one of Sasuke’s shirts in a bow under her breasts and had a pair of his shorts on. Though Mitsuhide wasn’t familiar with the clothes of this time, he thought she looked like a child trying to fit into her father’s clothes. Endearingly cute, but ill fit. Some of the clothes they saw women wearing on the way in the night before would have looked much better on her.
She looked up as if she knew he was thinking about her. “Ok, I think we’re ready to go.”
“Where to, my love?”
“Well, first to my apartment. It looks like my rent payments have all been made. And the building manager knows me so I should be able to get a spare key.” Her smile was all relief.
They arrived to the apartment, a small space in a tall building that reminded Mitsuhide of a castle, if the castle was robbed of all charm and beauty. Her room was utilitarian and sterile, and while there was still the wonder of technology, he could see none of her personality in the space. He said as much.
“Hm, yeah. I didn’t really have time to decorate. The apartment came furnished. I moved in and then, well,” she laughed. “I ended up in Azuchi with you.”
Mitsuhide pulled her into a hug. “A fate worse than death, little mouse?”
“You know it wasn’t,” she giggled, laughing harder as he ran his fingers down her sensitive sides. Holding her like this felt like home, even if nothing else was familiar.
After several slow breaths, they let go of each other.
“I must confess, I cannot see you living in this place. It doesn’t seem very safe. And you don’t have much room for your sewing.” Mitsuhide couldn’t help but poke into her cabinets, shelves, and drawers.
She nodded. “Yeah, it’s pretty small but it was a place I could afford on my own.”
Mitsuhide heard the pride in her voice. He smiled. “I can imagine you coming here, determined to make it on your own.” He turned from the cabinet he was inspecting to see her stripping off her shirt.
Her pert breasts were a pleasant surprise, but she crossed her arms over them as soon as she saw him looking. “I’m just changing clothes! I didn’t want to wear Sasuke’s basketball shorts all day.”
“Please, continue.”
“I - I can’t while you’re staring at me!” She turned so that all he could see was her back.
Mitsuhide laughed. “Are we not lovers? How many times have I kissed, nibbled, caressed every bit of your skin from head to toe?”
She shivered, skin dimpling with remembered touches. Slow, nervous, she turned back around. Her arms lowered, revealing her chest again. “You can watch if you want to.”
He wasn’t sure if it was nerves or mischief that made her voice squeak at the end. Either was amusing. “Mmm, I’m a lucky man to get a show.”
“You are,” she smiled. Her fingers went to the tie on the shorts. They fell away, pooling around her feet. Underneath, she wore nothing.
Mitsuhide sucked in a breath.
Her hips swayed as she walked to her wardrobe. She glanced over her shoulder at him and fluttered her eyelashes, trying to be saucy. The effect was a little spoiled by the blush that ran from her cheeks to the tips of her ears. From within the wardrobe she pulled out a little twist of cloth. It was light blue and made of some embroidered material.
He didn’t realize he could see her skin through it until she slipped it on, slowly pulling the fabric taut over her curves. Though she was technically covered, it was somehow more tempting than just skin alone. “What . . . is that?”
“Panties.” She giggled. Then she pulled out a matching bit of cloth and wrapped it around her chest. The rise of her breasts were restrained by this new piece of clothing as she reached behind her as if to tie it.
“And that?”
“My bra.” She turned right, then left, letting him get a good view.
The sight made Mitsuhide want to simultaneously rip the clothing off her and still enjoy looking at her in them. It wasn’t possible to have both . . .
“To be honest, it’s been kind of nice not wearing these the last few months. But I think I would feel weird if I didn’t wear them with my modern clothes.”
“I like them.” Mitsuhide smiled widely. A grin that brought heat to her gaze before she looked away, suddenly shy. He knew this ground well. Even here in a world where everything was strange, his little one was the same.
He stepped forward, reaching to cup her cheek. His other hand settled lightly on her hip, fingertips stroking the skin just above the fabric of her panties. She inhaled sharply, lips parting. Mitsuhide took the invitation.
The kiss was, at first, gentle and sweet, but the press of their bodies built heat between them. Their breath mingled, tongues entwined. Hands grasping, stroking, pulling. Tearing.
Mitsuhide stopped at the sound of fabric ripping.
His little one gasped and reached down to feel the damage. Her eyes widened. “You . . . tore my panties.” Then she started to laugh.
He laughed too. Never in his life had he expected a woman so wonderful. A woman he would want badly enough to - literally - tear the clothes off her. This kind of passion he’d always believed was fake. Yet here he was. It was unthinkable. Incredible. “I love you,” Mitsuhide told her, smiling so widely that it hurt.
“I love you too.”
She gestured to the wardrobe. "I should probably, you know. Finish." It took only a moment for her to shimmy into her own clothes. Then they headed out into this strange world that was his home 500 years after death.
Next: Kitsune's Day Out
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biggest fan ; atsumu miya
(1) "maybe he's my laptop wallpaper"
synopsis ; you are the youngest bokuto, and the biggest atsumu miya fan in all history (self proclaimed) so just your luck that a threat from your older brother to go to his game ends in you meeting your celebrity crush, and trying to not freak out, but oh what chaos ensues...
perfumers guide ; is the best friend literally just me inserting into my OWN FANFIC?? W A BOKUTO LOVE STORY? yeah fuck off let me have what i want its my fanfic motherfucker,, u, our beautiful mc, are a fangirl/boy/them/idc,, also i referred to ur friend as ur friend the whole fic, might give them an alias later on but idk for now,, tysm to my loves @scouts-ahoy and my bestie indigo for betaing for me <3 ily guys sm <3
perfume ingredients ; light cursing, rlly funny friend, fanperson-ing???, idk tw atsumu miya/j, bokuto being a butthead brother, gn reader (hopefully it comes across as such), omi being a bad friend/j,, cheesy corny romance movie esc love story <33,, written like a wattpad fanfic so sucks for u
word count ; 1388 words
“I can’t believe he blackmailed me like that!” You cried out, standing outside the building of the volleyball game you were attending.
“Don’t pretend you weren’t gonna show up anyways. Besides, he got us front row seats! Isn’t that awesome!” Your friend of many years squealed, adjusting his shirt before turning to you with a smirk, “Plus~ after, we’re going to dinner with your future boyfriend~” They teased, and you squeaked, chasing after them as they laughed. You both got in line and entered the building, packed full of people as you talked while walking to your seats according to your tickets.
A week prior your brother, Kotaro, had burst into your room in the apartment you shared, jumping on the bed and shoving two tickets to his next game. You had said you would buy your own tickets, since you wanted to be independent and were sick of relying on "big bro ko ko" but he interrupted you, threatening that if you didn’t take them he would tell Atsumu, his teammate, about your “big fat enormous super fan googly disgusting mushy gushy crush” on him and so you begrudgingly took the tickets. You decided to go with your friend, who was more excited to see your brother than the actual game.
“I can't believe you’re a brother banger…” You murmured. Your friend turned to you, a look of mock betrayal on their face.
“Honey Boo Bear! You dare think I’d cheat on you my beloved snookums?!” They said overdramatically and very loudly. You giggled, playing along with their antics with a smile.
“Pumpkin wumpkin! I can see you have feelings for another who is not me!”
“No! My cuddle wuddle baby poo I would never!-” They said, cut off by your laughter, followed by their own. Of course, even if you were pissed at Ko for blackmailing you into going, you couldn’t deny your excitement to see the Atsumu Miya, who had been the apple of your eye since you first saw him play with your brother. You had created a fan twitter for him for christs sake! That fucking enamored. But, even if he was on the same team with Kotaro, you had never met him face to face.
You had dazed off and couldn’t see nor hear your friend, before they had shaken you back into consciousness.
“Oi! The game is about to start, dumbass!” They said, and you turned to look, seeing both teams enter the court. Your friend screamed and chanted when they saw Kotaro, who waved at the both of you with energy filled motions. And then, as if in slow motion, entered the “love of your life.”
He was like a renaissance statue, carved from the finest marble and shaped into this beauty. His eyes were filled with life as he waved to all his fans, and when he swept his gaze over to where you were standing, it felt as if time stopped. It was like that scene from every cheesy romcom movie where the main character’s heart pounded erratically, and just like in a movie, the breath from your lungs was stolen away. Were you in heaven? This is totally heaven right?
His eyes. Oh, his eyes. Like molten gold, the sun's reflection on a lake. Like the sweetest caramel, that you could practically taste on your tongue. Atsumu seemed frozen as well, before Shoyo came over and shook him awake, turning to the court with a single glance back at you.
“Oh my god I think I might die.” You said, practically falling into your companions arms, who raised a brow at you.
“Are you okay? What happened?” They asked, a concerned expression on their face.
“Did you not see?!?! We made eye contact!! For like! A minute! And now I’ve fallen in love with him and I want his children!” You screamed, and they clasped a hand over your mouth quickly.
“One, crowded area, don’t say that shit out loud. Two, what’s the big deal? Weren’t you already in love with him?” They said, tilting their head to the side to look at you.
“Yes but like we’d never made eye contact! And I’m like! His biggest fan!” You squeaked, your voice cracking as you cleared it, looking desperately at your friend.
“How big?” They asked, and you gave an exasperated sigh.
“Maybe he’s my laptop wallpaper..” You murmured, twiddling your hands together. “Laptop wallpaper” had been an inside joke between you two to measure the depth of your obsession. Laptop wallpaper being the biggest, and twitter profile picture being the lowest.
“Oh my god big big…” They whispered, and you two continued to talk over your dilemma as the game went on.
As the game came to an end, with another victory for the Jackals, the two of you ran down the steps with special access passes, also gifted to you by Kotaro, and ran to congratulate the team. There was a sappy moment where your friend jumped into Kotaro’s arms rambling about how amazing he was, as he walked over to you and raised his hand for a high five, which you begrudgingly gave.
“You suck, butthead.” You said with a smile, and he grinned at you, as you walked off to a brooding black haired man, who was staring off in another dimension before you called his name, “Hey Omi! You did great!” You cheered, and he turned to you with a semi-smile.
“Thanks little Bokuto.” He said, and you rolled your eyes.
“The least you could do is say my name!”
“I think little Bokuto works just fine.”
“Omiiii! That is so cruel and mean! I am going to report you on Stop It!” You said, and he laughed. Kiyoomi has been your friend since high school. You didn’t like the idea of being overshadowed by your brother, so you chose a school where no one would recognize you as his sibling, and bumped into Kiyoomi. Literally. And decided to stick around the brooding loner who preferred to eat lunch on the rooftop away from the hordes of people.
“So, did you totally fitz out when Miya came on court?” He said with a knowing smirk, causing your face to heat up as you cried out in protest.
“I did not!”
“They totally did.” Shoyo interrupted, and you spun around to throw a fake punch at him. He dodged with ease and stuck his tongue out at you, and you did the same.
“Shut up!” You yelled, groaning when the two laughed at you, “I’m gonna wait outside for you guys! And Omi! You smell horrible!” You cried, grinning in triumph at his annoyed face, looking at himself covered in sweat and sighing.
You walked out of the gym, waiting outside the doors as you said you would, opting to scroll through your phone idly.
“Yer Bokuto’s sibling right?” A light voice asked by your ear, which caused you to jump and throw a punch out of instinct. A groan and head of blonde hair that you’d seen hundreds of times in twitter edits and your dreams made you gasp. “You sure know how to throw a punch huh? Yowch,” Atsumu grunted, holding his stomach as you panicked and apologized, to which he laughed, “It’s okay! I didn’t give no warnin’ so I scared ya! I get it!” He said, and you blushed profusely.
You just punched your celebrity crush in the stomach, there goes your dreams of a fanfiction type first meeting. You sighed, putting your hand out to shake his as you introduced yourself.
“I’m Atsumu Miya.”
“Well obviously.” You said and then gasped at how rude that must’ve sounded. You were about to apologize again until he laughed. He looked at you with those eyes again.
“Yer real funny! I hope yer goin’ to dinner with us, it’d be totally boring without ya.” He said, and you nodded.
“Of course, I promised my brother.” You said, and he did a small fist bump, before pausing and taking out his phone, passing it to you.
“Put yer number in there, pretty please.” He said, and you nodded, typing your phone number and name. He smiled when you handed his phone back, checking the time before whispering curses, “Fuck, I still gotta change, but I’ll see ya at the dinner kay? See ya round pretty!” He called and you waved goodbye blushing at the compliment and chuckling before the realization set in.
“OH MY GOD I JUST GAVE MIYA ATSUMU MY NUMBER HOLY FUCK”
extra;;
"you are so loud..."
"shut up ko you're fat."
olivonie 2021
reblogs are welcome !! pls !!!!
#olivonie ;;#biggest fan ;;#atsumu miya ;;#haikyuu ;;#I AM SO TIRED THIS TOOK...FOREVER???? FOR WHAT???????#guys pls reblog like i beg u#i will kiss ur feet#also atsumu#help the yer brought me pjhysical pain....#why is he like this.......#ALSO IM SRRY FOR TERRIBLE CHARACTERIZATION I SUCK </333
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For You: 4 O’Clock
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All This Time
"Honestly, Yesung," I smile as we wrap up at the studio, "I'm gonna miss this. I can't believe this is our first time singing together!"
"It does seem long overdue, huh?" Yesung grins, sitting back in his chair. "We can always do this again, Lei. I'm happy to see you back in the studio after all this time!"
"You know," I sigh, "I think I am too."
I hadn't planned to return to S.M. as an artist, but I never quite ruled out the possibility. I guess I find comfort in open endings. When I first went on leave, I started working toward degrees in a variety of foreign languages— the ones I learned as an idol— intending to return to the agency as a translator.
Then, Yesung sent me a demo of the perfect duet and asked me to sing it with him. Being the perfect husband, Taemin encouraged me to do it. "One song doesn't commit you to a career," he said, so now I am here: reimagining my dream of being an artist.
The days of nonstop touring and practicing from sunrise to sunset have passed; my priorities are different now. Here in the shade with Yesung, where the light is gentle, I am comfortable. I am not ready to take the next big step.
"You're glowing, Lei; you were meant to share your voice." Yesung beams at me.
I want to tell him that I am only reflecting the light he and so many others have shone on me, but I don't get the chance. In his next breath, he asks, "How's our little miracle doing, by the way? Do you think he's expecting tomorrow's surprise party?"
As fond wrinkles form around Yesung's eyes, my heart swells and overfills with adoration. I shake my head. "No. Obviously, Mom can keep a secret. With time, Taemin has gotten better at holding his tongue. With Lucas, Donghae, and Heechul running around the house, though, it's amazing that the cat is still in the bag. I try not to question miracles."
"That seems wise," Yesung hums. "Best to enjoy secrecy while it lasts; they still have a full—" he glances down at his watch— "almost a full 24-hours to spoil the surprise!"
We laugh. Then, a joyful sort of pout— yes, I realize that is some kind of an oxymoron— pulls at my lips. I run a hand through my hair after releasing it from its ponytail. "Can you believe that Tue is turning five?"
"No!" Yesung's hair falls into his eyes when he shakes his head. "Just like I can't believe that you actually came around calling your son Tue after all those times you scolded Kim and Lucas for using that name!"
"Having two Lucases around gets confusing." I justify my change of heart, shrugging. "Plus, my boy is unique enough to justify that kind of name!"
Yesung repeats, "Unique," agreeing with a subtle nod. "He reminds me a lot of you, especially now that he's reaching that age you were when we first met."
It's strange— thinking about how much time has passed— thinking about how some things never change— realizing that some images repeat and replay.
"Really?"
Tilting my head, I study my lock screen picture. Lucas took it just last night; he immortalized the moment that Tue sat between me and Taemin at the piano in the den, and I don't know if I have thanked him enough. I squint at the photo as if that will help me see similarities between myself and my son; it doesn't help.
"I think Tue is a carbon copy of Taemin in appearance and personality," I admit through laughter. "These days, he loves to watch music videos. He can replicate any choreography— and I mean any choreography— after seeing it just once. I've never seen anything like it!"
Should the agency find out, I sometimes think and spark worry in my gut, they will set their sights on him.
There it is— the reason why I am so reluctant to return to the stage as an idol: fear of drawing attention to Tue. It was difficult enough when he was born and everybody felt entitled to see him when he was too little to decide whether he wanted to exist under strangers' stares.
What worries me most, I think, is the fact that I don't know when he will be old enough to make that decision. Five is definitely too young— Taemin and I agree about that, so we take great precautions to protect his privacy. Nobody who knows Tue posts pictures of him on social media; whenever he leaves the house, he wears a mask like we do; as Mom considers early retirement (and therefore takes on fewer group clients), her job has become primarily threatening paparazzi who consider releasing rare photographs of him.
I have never cared whether people think I'm overprotective. I know too well of the pressures that come with living in the public eye, and I will defend my son from them for as long as I can. Tue is a star, and I know it's just a matter of time until he tries to follow in the footsteps of everybody he loves. I only comfort myself with the thought that it's not happening yet; it's not happening today; it probably won't happen tomorrow.
"I've seen something like that!" Yesung's boast drags me out of my train of thought. "I don't know if you can still do this— I don't understand child prodigies all that well— but when you were a kid, you could play any song on the piano right after hearing it for the first time. Donghae said teaching you to read sheet music was like pulling teeth because you played everything by ear."
Knowing that reading sheet music is still not my strong suit, I redden at Yesung's recollection. "Tue can do that too!" I want to brag. "He's the most talented person I've ever known, and he is barely five years old. He's the most gifted person I know, and that's saying something, given how many gifted people I've loved."
Yesung nudges my ribs. "Why else do you think Henry was so obsessed with you? You both spoke the same piano language!"
"You know," I say, "Henry asked about interviewing Tue for his program about child prodigies."
"Oh yeah?" Although he knows me well enough to predict the answer, Yesung asks, "What did you say?"
"I said that he's welcome to see Tue and play music with him any time," I answer Yesung just as carefully as I answered Henry. "You know that there's nobody I could trust more than you guys— Super Junior— to lead Tue into the entertainment industry, but—"
I squirm, and my stomach knots. "You know how I am. You know that the thought of sharing Tue— no— not the thought of sharing his talent and his sparkling smile and his sweet voice and his kindness— that's not the problem. I know that the world needs more people like my son. I just—"
After all this time, my voice still trembles when I think about how cruel strangers are to good people. "I just wonder how well the world treats people like him. I wonder how much the world deserves people like him."
Yesung rises from his seat to embrace me. His chin rests on the top of my chair. "I don't think anybody understands that anxiety better than your Mom."
And it happens again: my love for Mom grows. My beautiful Mom. My kind Mom. My Mom who stood in the wings, my Mom who stood comfortably in my shadow. I always thought she was naturally aware of when to hold on and when to let go, but maybe balance was challenging to her too.
Hearing Yesung describe our shared fear makes me imagine that I have grown to resemble Mom. Tears fill my eyes. I am always sensitive; especially about Mom, and especially around Tue's birthday.
Before the first tear can fall, he is running to me, crawling into my lap, and holding my face in his hands that are so small, so soft— uncalloused and young. "What's wrong, Mommy?"
Because the tears evaporate so quickly, I almost believe that they never existed. For a moment, when I cup Tue's rosy cheeks and give him my truest smile, I believe that I have never cried in my entire life. "I was just thinking about how much I missed my beautiful boy! It's all better now that you're here!"
Tue giggles when I push his dark curly hair out of his face and kiss his forehead. He's especially cute these days because he likes his hair long; he likes for the ends to tickle his dimpled chin.
"I missed you too! I asked Daddy to bring me to see you and Uncle Lucas and—" his eyes— the feature that most closely resembles Taemin's because they contain all of the universe's stars— widen in time with the growth of his smile. "Great Uncle Yesung!"
Tue transforms into a reincarnation of my childhood self when he abandons all thought in admiration of Yesung. He leaps out of my lap and runs into Yesung's laughing embrace.
It's beautiful— thinking about how much time has passed— thinking about how some things never change— realizing that some images repeat and replay.
I consider that on my walk to the doorway, where Taemin stands, watching the scene with a smile. His fingers trace absentmindedly at the ribbon on his wrist that hasn't faded with the passage of time. The color hasn't faded since he restored it on that night by the lake.
"I'm sorry if we interrupted your work," Taemin says softly when he catches me staring. "I told Tue not to just run into the studio, but you know how he gets when he's excited: just a teeny tiny bit disobedient. Or a teeny tiny bit forgetful."
After teasing, "I wonder who he gets that from," and earning a chuckle in response, I assure Taemin, "You didn't interrupt anything. Yesung and I are done with the song. We just got to talking."
Maybe Taemin noticed the tears before Tue carried them away, or maybe he hears that longtime blend of anxiety and craving for peace that almost always reveals itself in my voice through our conversations. His brow furrows as he wraps an arm around my waist. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"Yeah," I answer immediately because I always want to talk about everything with Taemin. I told him once that I would grow to trust him with everything, and I have; for better or for worse, I hold nothing back. Watching Tue throw his head back laughing as Yesung tickles his ribs just below his armpits, right where he knows he's most ticklish, I condition, "Later though. Smiles and laughter for now, please."
Taemin doesn't press the issue. In the beginning, he was always in such a rush, determined to force intimate conversation, no matter my discomfort. Now, he must realize that there is nothing I will keep from him forever. Now, he must understand that everything will come to light when we lie together under the moon. He no longer races to the rising of the moon or the rising of the sun; he lives in every moment. I admire him for that.
Taemin smiles and winks at me before fixing his sight on Tue. "Hey little dude," Taemin says during the brief break in Tue's laughter, "Mommy is done for the day, and she wants to hang out with us! What do you wanna do?"
Tue runs to us from Yesung's side. He reaches for Taemin, knowing well that his father will waste no time in lifting him onto his shoulders.
"Alright." Taemin squats so Tue can climb on easily and so he doesn't hit his head on the doorframe. It's funny to watch Taemin, who was once spoiled rotten, who is still a bit rotten at the core, literally bending to the will of a small child. "What's the plan, kiddo?"
Tue wastes no time pretending to think about his dream activity. Although he sees his namesake almost every day, he declares, "I wanna see Uncle Lucas!"
Trusting that I still memorize my best friend's schedules, Taemin glances at me. Luckily enough, I still know where Lucas is at all times. Some people jokingly call it twin-telepathy, but it's only through my nagging reminders that Lucas ever gets where he needs to be.
"He's downstairs teaching a dance class with Mark." I look down at my phone again; I couldn't hide my smile at the picture even if I tried. "It should be wrapping up soon, so—"
Taemin cheers, "Off we go!" and runs toward the elevator. Tue squeals all the way down the hall, and I wish more than anything that I had been ready to record this moment.
Before following my boys, I linger in the studio to tell Yesung, "Bye! Thank you for everything!"
"See you tomorrow!" Yesung waves both hands. "You're welcome for everything! Never forget that I'm proud of you!"
I smile because it is impossible to forget what Yesung has told me since we met.
. . .
Although Taemin, Tue, and I stand quietly at the back of the room, Lucas notices us immediately.
"Hey!" His booming clap disrupts the class, and all eyes fall on us. "There's my mini-me!"
It doesn't matter that Tue is identical to Taemin (apart from the wavy hair he inherited from me); Lucas has called him "mini-me" since the day he was born. That's just a consequence of naming my baby after my best friend. It's a consequence I can live with.
It doesn't matter that Tue sees Lucas almost every day; they always greet each other with wide smiles and open arms as if they have been separated for lifetimes. That's just a result of the bond they share.
Sometimes, I think that Tue was born not just to fill my every void and fade every scar. He was born to be the best friend Lucas always deserved. He was born to teach Taemin that he is much more than an idol. He makes us better just by existing. I have never loved anyone so much— with my entire heart, my entire soul, with every part of me that has ever existed and will ever exist.
I run a hand through Tue's hair before Taemin passes him to Lucas. This transition of our most beloved person into the arms of another dear friend occurs without the arguments that gave me headaches at the start. We have accepted it by now: Lucas is Tue's favorite person on the planet.
I don't care much to challenge that title since it means so much to Lucas and since I know from experience that the role of the mother is special on its own. I don't know much from experience about the role of the father except that its absence painful in more ways than words can describe; I don't know much except its absence leaves a void that most will try to fill with anything; I don't know much except Taemin is doing a good job, and I tell him so every day.
Now, I tell him by reaching for his hand and lacing our fingers together. This— holding his hand— has always been my favorite act of affection. It's crazy to think that, once upon a time, I would have hesitated— I would have refused— I would have denied the desire to reach for him outside of our hotel room and our home.
Sometimes, like now, Taemin looks stunned when I touch him. He flinches as if my touch is frozen or scalding or electric, but then he smiles and melts into me a little more. Every time I think we're done melting into each other, when I think that we already blended to create the perfect human being, we take another step together.
"Hey!" Tue leans over Lucas's shoulder to look him in the eyes. "It's big-me!"
"Sh," I instruct quietly, bringing a finger to my puckered lips. "They're practicing, baby. We're guests, so we have to be quiet."
Generally, Tue is a well-mannered boy. He just forgets proper etiquette when excited, and nobody excites him quite like Lucas. Turning slightly pink in the face, Tue nods and brings a finger to his puckered lips too.
Moments of correction are always short-lived because Tue takes instruction well. I wink at him, and he winks back. The thing is— Tue has inherited Mom's lack of facial coordination, so he blinks both eyes.
The sight makes Taemin laugh. When I was a kid, I would have wanted to cry if someone (especially someone as beautiful as Taemin) laughed at me. Tue's lips don't tremble in preparation for tears, though; his lips curl into a gap-toothed smile. Oh, there's another thing my baby gets from me: a gappy smile! It looks much cuter on him; I almost hope he never corrects it with braces.
Because Taemin laughed, Tue laughs. He always copies his father.
Raising my eyebrows, I give Lucas a look that clearly means, "Aren't you supposed to help Mark with this class?"
Lucas understands. Maybe his understanding is the result of (fake) twin-telepathy or— more likely— it is the result of having known each other for eternities. Securing his hold around Tue, Lucas softly sings, "Priorities change, Lei."
Because I completely restructured my life for Tue— and that's much more significant than ditching the last five minutes of a dance practice— I can't argue with Lucas. I can only nod.
At the front of the room, Mark announces, "Alright guys, we're done for the day! Great work!"
I hope that he hasn't ended practice early because we have caused an interruption, but it's hard to stay worried when Mark's trainees break into excited chatter. The atmosphere in this room is unlike anything I experienced as a trainee. People like Mark, people like Lucas— they have changed this place. They have brought light into the rooms, and I— I think I want to help them.
Then, I look at Tue, and I know that I don't want him to spend his days sitting alone by the vending machine. I don't want him to spend his days sitting in the corner while I teach trainees. In no way do I resent my childhood; I just want to protect Tue from the loneliness that darkened too many days.
Life is about finding balance, I think. Balance between Lei the idol and Lei the human. Balance between Lei the fearful and Lei the brave. Balance between Lei the skeptic and Lei the romantic. Balance between Lei the individual and Lei the wife. Balance between Lei the idol and Lei the mother. Balance between Lei of the past and Lei of now. Some of these, I have mastered. Some of these were easier to achieve than others. Some of these are a daily struggle. Some of these remain a mystery.
I'm trying, though; that's enough for me now. I am proud of who I am now. I am proud of who I will be tomorrow.
I wave to Mark, thinking that he has always had the best influence on others. Smiling, Mark waves back, calling "Happy Early Birthday, Lucas Tue!" (and receiving a chipper, "Thank you, Mr. Mark Lee!" in response) before I follow my family into the hall, led by Taemin's hand, with the sea of trainees.
We sit at the table by the vending machine. It's much smaller now than it is in my memories. Maybe that's because I've grown so much; maybe that's because my family fills it with energy so bright that I don't notice the empty seats.
Sitting in Lucas's lap, Tue asks, "Did you know tomorrow is my birthday?"
Lucas gasps, "Tomorrow is your birthday?"
Taemin laughs at how Tue's face contorts in utter bewilderment. His lips part, his brow furrows, and his skin is painted a flustered pink as he whines, "I don't know! Is it?"
Because everyone has been so quiet in discussing birthday preparations around Tue, he must not realize the date. "Tomorrow is May 29," I tell him, "so you're gonna turn five years old!" I wiggle five fingers toward his face; he laughs when I tap his nose with one of my fingertips, throwing his head back against Lucas's chest.
"What?!" Lucas cries; Tue laughs harder at the overreaction before Lucas even prods at his ticklish ribs. "Five?! That's crazy, man! That's older than me!"
Tue sputters, "No— no it's not! You're way— way— way older than five!"
"I am not!" Lucas argues, dropping his jaw to feign offense. "You know who is way older than five, though?"
As if sharing the same brain cell, Lucas and Tue settle their sights on Taemin, who, tightening his grip on my hand, drops his jaw, taking genuine offense. “I am not! I’m the biggest baby at this table!”
When Taemin crosses his arms over his chest and pouts his pretty lips, nobody thinks to argue. Lucas and Tue snort, failing to contain their laughter at Taemin’s expense. I so badly want to laugh with them, but I want more to kiss Taemin, so I peck at his lips.
At the kiss, Lucas and Tue do not squeal in disgust like most little boys would; they squeal in utter delight.
. . .
It’s hard to find an alone moment with Mom in our full house, but I find one after Taemin and I tuck Tue into bed. Mom is setting up Finding Nemo decorations around the pool. We chose that theme for Tue's party since it's his favorite movie.
Even wearing her pajamas with her hair tied up in a messy bun, Mom looks beautiful among the moon and stars. "What's going on, Lei?" She drapes a cloth over a fold-out table. "You're wearing your pensive face."
I try to laugh at myself by saying, "I'm always wearing my pensive face."
Because I have yet to tell Taemin about my conversation with Yesung, my worries are a tangled knot at the forefront of my mind. It's a messy business, untangling the knot, and it's always easier with Taemin's help.
Tracing my finger along Nemo's little lucky fin on the table cloth, I prod at the knot on my own. "I'm just wondering how you knew when to hold me close and when to let me stand in the spotlight."
Mom stills to meet my eyes. "I know I wasn't perfect," she prefaces. When I try to disagree, she interrupts. "I'm human, Lei. I did the best I could, but I know I could have been better. Anyone can see through hindsight, in any situation, that they could have been better. They should have been better."
Mom has this way of speaking that nobody can replicate. She acknowledges faults and shortcomings through a lens that is never degrading, never belittling. She looks at the past in such a light that does not inspire regret but instead inspires a better tomorrow.
I admire Mom for that. I want to be like her. After all this time, I have not grown out of aspiring to be like Mom.
"When I think about how you used to sit alone at that table by the vending machine before Lucas walked into your world; when I think about how you used to cling to the wall in the corner of every room; when I think about how I used to hear you crying in your room at night when you thought I was asleep— when you thought your radio was loud enough to drown out your tears with SHINee's voices—"
Mom's voice wavers, and her gaze crashes onto the table. Now that I see her so affected by past pains even in the happiest stage of life to date, I understand: it was never easy for Mom. She just carried the burden where I couldn't see it.
"I always wondered if I was doing the right thing. I wondered if the spotlight found you because you walked into it or because I nudged you toward it. When you became a trainee and Donghae told me that Sehun said people were being cruel to you—" Mom bristles— "you don't know how much I wanted to pull you out of the agency. You don't know how badly I wanted to take you and hide you someplace where nobody could hurt you. But—"
Mom laughs— genuinely laughs— when I wrap my arms around her, thinking, knowing that a place without pain does not exist (at least not on earth). It's enough that she wanted to take me there, I think. It's enough that she wanted that place to exist for me.
She asks, "Do you know that part in Finding Nemo where Dory tells Marlin, 'Well, you can't never let anything happen to him. Then nothing would ever happen to him'?"
I nod. Even though Tue often falls asleep in my lap by that part of the movie, I know it well.
"Quickly— maybe instantly— I realized that you are too special not to share with the world." Mom cups my face with both hands. She kind of pinches my cheeks because they are still full; they still make me look very much like a child. "This world would be a sadder, duller place without your light shining in it. I decided that if anyone out there tries to dampen your light— well—"
Mom smiles, so I smile too.
"I would work a million times harder to keep it burning."
. . .
When I tell Taemin about my conversation with Yesung in the studio and my conversation with Mom under the moon, he says, "That's all very beautiful, baby. It almost makes me want to cry. But I still think Tue is way too young to be an idol."
I have almost drifted to sleep with my head on Taemin's chest because the steady beat of his heart has always been one of my greatest comforters. I lift my head to narrow my eyes at him. "How did you gather from any of that that I want our son to be an idol?"
Taemin squints, trying to make out my features in the dark. "I don't know! It just seemed like you were coming to terms with letting him wander into the spotlight, and I thought maybe it was my turn to be the voice of reason!"
Even without the slightest aid offered by the pale moonlight, I would see the smirk curling his lips. "The last time I was the voice of reason was during our first New Year when you dropped your dress—"
"Let it go, Taemin!" I chastise, wondering how and why I let his sentence get that far before rolling my eyes. "That happened how many years ago?"
"I don't know. Time is all relative anyway." Taemin probably feels like some kind of genius or the mysterious picture of a soulmate he was at the beginning. "It happened how ever many years ago, and it's still one of my favorite memories! It never fails to make me smile."
I shake my head and lay on my back beside him. "We're way off track. Anyway, I completely agree: Tue is too young to be an idol. The agency wouldn't even let him audition until he turns ten. Even then, I'm not going to suggest that he audition. I'm not going to actively nudge him anywhere near that path."
Moments pass in silence. Taemin rolls onto this side to trace patterns on my stomach. In addition to calming me, this gentle affection helps him organize his thoughts.
"I think we should cross that bridge when we come to it," he says, as usual. "Obviously, I want to support him in anything he wants to do. I won't really know how to help him if he wants to be a doctor or a lawyer, but— well— think of how much we can guide him if he wants to follow in our footsteps."
Taemin makes a good point. Having two idol parents might make Tue a target for bullies— I know that having a manager for a mother made me one— but cruel people will justify their actions with any excuse. What makes Tue stand out could double as a strength; I know having my particular mother made me stronger. Similarly, Tue could turn to me and Taemin and Mom and Lucas and his entire network of well-wishing idols for advice, and we would all be equipped by our experiences to help him in some way.
"I'm so glad I have you." I roll onto my side so that my face is level with Taemin's and I can clearly see the night sky reflected in his eyes. "You embody that perfect balance between listening and advising. You always have. I love you so much for that. I always have."
He smiles, and my heart flutters. "I'm glad I have you too. Thank you for trusting me and listening to my advice. I love you so much for that. I always will."
Taemin creates the perfect atmosphere for honesty. With a glance, he encourages me to carry my darkest thoughts into the light. It feels like he is carrying them with me; they are less heavy this way. That's why I admit, suddenly on the verge of tears, "I'm afraid that I haven't made my love for Tue clear enough."
I have rarely cried since taking a break from being Lei the idol. My outburst must send Taemin back in time to the very start when I first cried to him under the moon's watch— to the night when the moon became ours. Back then, he was so careful. He resisted the destined desire to touch me, to embrace me, because he didn't want to frighten me. Now, he moves instantly, instinctively, to hold me.
His lips meet mine for a second. After just a second, he tries to part, but I need him. I need him, and that hasn't scared me in so many moons. I need him, and I bring him back down to me and hold him here until we have kissed most of my worries away.
We always keep a few worries because Taemin says they keep us safe. He thinks my talent for spotting danger is, in moderation, one of our greatest strengths. I'm good at seeing a storm cloud from a million miles away; Taemin is good at making a hurricane feel like an overdue summer drizzle. That's why we are the greatest team to ever exist.
"Tue knows you love him," Taemin assures me in a whisper against my lips. "Anyone who knows you— anyone who knows us knows that we weren't really breathing until Tue took his first breath."
That's not to say that life wasn't worth living before Tue existed. Just like my life was as happy as it could have been before Lucas, and it was happier once he laughed and painted the world anew; just like my life was as happy as it could have been before Taemin, and it was happier once he handed me the moon; my life was as happy as it could have been before Tue, and it was happier once he breathed.
Tue's breath gave me every beautiful wonder I never knew existed— the heavenly traces on earth that nobody can see with the naked eye until they have seen and felt and loved their child.
"Does the world know?" My mouth hurts from frowning. "These past five years— have we done the right thing by keeping Tue off of social media? The agency issued the briefest statement about him, like, a week after he was born, and I don't even know if they mentioned his name. Mom deletes all leaked traces of him from the internet. Any time interviewers are bold enough to ask you about him, the agency pressures the network to cut the clip."
They do all of these things at our request.
Taemin wipes the tears spilling from my eyes as I wonder, "When Tue gets older, what will he think about the fact that his parents said nothing about him where the world could hear?"
"Hopefully he'll understand that his parents loved him enough to protect him until he was old enough to protect himself," Taemin answers in a tone that does not belittle my fears in his effort to quell them. "It's not like you've been active on social media at all these past five years, Lei. If Tue ever asks, and I doubt he will, we can explain that you spent all of your time with him while I—"
Taemin's voice falters.
One of his biggest insecurities— maybe you could call it a regret— is that while I walked away from my career the moment I felt Tue's life, he hadn't deviated much from the course he had been on most of his life. I never pressured Taemin to make a career shift in any direction; at every opportunity, I expressed my belief that there is no right or wrong move when finding the balance between family life and work. Needs vary, and I believe that people can adapt to almost any situation.
Taemin's pace has changed somewhat over time. Early morning practices with Jongin became scarce after Tue was born; now, they are almost obsolete. He says that he likes to be home for breakfast and early morning cartoons.
He isn't as excited about promoting abroad when Tue and I can't tag along. As you can probably imagine, some trips cannot function as family vacations. He swears that video calls before bed are not enough to fill the void in his day when we aren't there.
He doesn't look forward to awards ceremonies like he once did. We agreed that Tue shouldn't attend events where strangers' cameras abound. He says that even if we did attend, he would be expected to sit with his group, not with us.
The studio isn't his second home anymore. Whenever he has to stay later than expected, he comes home with a million apologies, a bouquet of roses for me, and a new toy for Tue. At this point, Tue has an entire colony of plush Nemos on his bed; he sleeps cuddling every single one. It doesn't matter how often I tell him that he has nothing to apologize for; he apologizes and apologizes and I know he will apologize again.
I know that he feels torn between his roles as Taemin the idol, Taemin the husband, and Taemin the father. I just don't know how to help him. He made so little time for Taemin the human being that, sometime during the first week of May, he had some kind of emotional breakdown at the studio that compelled SHINee to delay the release of their new album.
Deciding that he didn't want anybody to blame Taemin for the postponement, Jinki offered to take the heat. He told Mom, "Issue a statement claiming that I'm suffering from a gluteal strain after an impromptu breakdancing battle!"
Jinki's Rationale for the Gluteal Strain Story:
"The key is to tell a lie so outrageous that nobody can doubt it! Nobody will question a story about a literal pain in the butt!"
Anyway, that's why Taemin and I have swapped roles lately. He is taking his first break from being an idol to spend time with Tue. While they watch movies and play the piano and work through those online pre-school activities, I am dipping my toes back into the world of recording. I don't know yet what I will do in terms of a career, but I know that Taemin will return to the stage revitalized. He is remarkably resilient, born to shine.
Knowing I can't alter Taemin's self-perception, I card my fingers through his hair and praise him anyway. "Taemin, Tue learns so much about hard work, passion, and dedication from you. He truly admires you in the purest way. He doesn't see the distinction between his father and his idol because you fulfill those responsibilities so well—so much better than I ever could— so much better than I was willing to try."
I kiss the crown of Taemin's head as he buries his face in the crook of my neck. "We're so proud of you. Don't forget that."
"Thank you," Taemin mumbles against my skin. "I haven't forgotten. I just— I'm so proud of you for being Tue's mom, but I'm sorry if I pressured you to walk away from your dreams to carry my weight here—"
"Taemin." I nudge him until he looks down at me with wide apologetic eyes. "You didn't pressure me into anything. You didn't pressure me into anything at all."
He looks unconvinced, judging by his pout, so I explain, "I have so many dreams! To be a genuine artist, to be a loving daughter, to be a reliable friend, to be a comforting wife, to be an inspiring Mom."
I wrap my arms around Taemin's waist and hug him closer. "I heard once that growing up is a process of letting your dreams die one by one, but I disagree. Every day that I'm with you, I discover a new dream I don't think I have to choose one over all the others. I just have to find balance. And we'll find it together; that's what we always do."
Finally, Taemin smiles. I smile. We can breathe again.
He lays against me, and our chests rise and fall together. We melt a little more, and I— I can't tell where he ends and I begin. I can't remember a time when we were separate beings. I don't ever want to remember.
"Do you want me to go on Instagram live to say that my wife and son are everything to me? Or should I air footage of one of Tue's baby albums? Or should I post videos and pictures from life with you these past five years? Or should I read our story where anyone can hear?"
Between each question, Taemin has kissed me. His lips hover over mine as he begs, "Tell me what to do, Lei. Tell me how to make your dreams come true, and I'll do it. I'll do anything."
He doesn't understand that I am already living my dream. I don't know how to make him understand.
"Just kiss me again," I instruct softly. Sweetly, Taemin complies. "And let's think about something special we can do to love our son on his birthday."
When Taemin and I tiptoe into his room early the next morning, we expect to find Tue fast asleep, snoring into his pillow while clutching a Nemo plushie. Instead, we find him lying with his belly against the floor, kicking his bare feet int he air while doodling on a piece of paper.
While Taemin sits before Tue, I sit beside him and ask, "Can I see your drawing, baby?"
Tue has never denied me access to his art before. I love seeing the smile that curls his lips whenever I express interest in his creativity. "Yep!" His enthusiastic nod sends his unruly morning curls flopping. "But I'm not just drawing something, Mommy."
Taemin's brow furrows as he tries to decipher Tue's handwriting. He is at a disadvantage because a.) from where he sits, Tue's letters are upside down, b.) the note is written entirely in English, which still isn't Taemin's strong suit, and c.) Tue has chosen to write with the palest yellow crayon in his arsenal.
Sweetly, Taemin asks, "What is it?" Leaning forward, he sets his elbows on the hardwood floor and props his chin in his hands.
Tue delights in the opportunity to explain anything from why he thinks the sky is blue to why he thinks roses are the prettiest flowers to why Finding Nemo is the best movie ever. His face lights up at Taemin's question.
"It's a letter to Mr. Mark Lee!" Tracing his little fingers along his letters, Tue reads, "Thanks for saying 'Happy Birthday' yesterday. I forgot my birthday. You didn't. You make me very happy!"
Tue turns the paper so Taemin can read it. "And look! I drew me here and Mr. Mark Lee here, and we have big smiles and party hats!"
When Tue gives Taemin his gappy smile, I can't contain myself. While Taemin takes the paper from Tue's hand, my heart explodes as I pull Tue onto my lap. Holding him around the waist, I pepper his forehead, cheeks, nose, and chin with kisses; he giggles all the while.
"You're the sweetest boy in the whole world, Tue!" I boast, and he beams at the praise. "Who taught you how to write 'Thank You' notes?"
"I dunno!" He shrugs his shoulders. "Probably you or Daddy. You and Daddy teach me everything!"
I raise my eyebrows, giving Taemin this look that means, "I told you so. He knows that you're a great father. I told you so!"
Taemin probably doesn't notice. He smiles at Tue as he returns the paper to his baby soft hand. "You're going to give this to Mr. Mark Lee the next time you see him, right? I bet getting a letter like this would make him very happy."
At that suggestion, Tue's face burns crimson. In many ways, he is one of the most confident, outgoing people I have ever known; in others, he is even more bashful than I have ever been. In five years of knowing him, I have yet to figure out how he manages that degree of duality. Considering that Tue is forever charming — whether bold or shy — I am inclined to believe duality is another quality he inherited from Taemin.
As he leans into me and hides his face in my shirt, Tue entrusts his paper to my hand. "Can you give that to Mr. Mark Lee, Mommy? I want to make him very happy, but I can't give it to him! I just can't!
Maybe I should gently nudge Tue out of his comfort zone, especially since there is nothing to fear about approaching Mark. Maybe I should take this chance to teach him that self-expression is nothing to be embarrassed about. I can't do it, though. As precious as he looks with rose-colored cheeks, I can't darken my baby's blush.
"I'll give it to him," I promise, urging him to lift his head to meet my bright smile. "He'll love it! Now go to Daddy, alright? He's gonna help you get dressed."
Looking down at his pajamas donning Nemo's face, of course, Tue pouts. He crosses his arms. He really looks and sounds like Taemin when he whines, "I don't wanna get dressed!"
"Well, you have to," Taemin says as he scoops Tue into his arms. Carrying him to the closet, Taemin responds to Tue's whines, "If you don't get dressed, I can't take you to your surprise!"
As I walk to the door, I hear Tue squeal, "Surprise?" Taemin laughs at his reaction. Tue's squeal and Taemin's laugh are the reasons why I smile when I walk downstairs to tell everybody that the birthday boy is on his way.
. . .
I push the curtains aside and from my side of the kitchen window, I watch Donghae carrying Tue on his shoulders in the pool. Following Mom's instruction to "Behave! At least around the baby!" Heechul stands beside them, donning a smile for Lucas's camera.
The sight is especially comforting considering how annoying Donghae and Heechul were at the beginning. Apparently, when nobody was listening, Heechul told Tue, "Call me Grandpa, and call him—" he pointed a finger at Donghae— "Grandpa 2."
Tue was too young and too sweet to understand that Heechul was up to his old shenanigans of competing with Donghae, so he followed the instruction faithfully, much to Donghae's dismay.
"Don't worry," Tue said to Donghae's frown, flashing him a big toothy smile. "I'm a 2 too!"
I wish I or Mom or Lucas— since he has appointed himself the family photographer— had recorded the smile Tue sculped onto Donghae's face. I would love to carry a picture of it with me so I could show it to you and everybody I meet, saying, "This is my son's mark on the world, and it's the most beautiful mark anybody has ever made. He is five years old, and he has never hurt a living creature. He is five years old, and he makes smiles wherever he goes."
My mental images of Tue's gappy smile and those he leaves in his wake are among my most prized possessions. I am admiring them when Mark walks in through the back door, carrying an empty bowl.
His eyes widen as if he has interrupted something. He beelines to the refrigerator, muttering, "Your mom said there's more watermelon in the fridge."
Glancing down at the platter of snacks I have assembled, I frown at the utter lack of watermelon. "I should have known that we would need more watermelon with you and Tue eating at the same place at the same time."
Mark laughs, dropping the empty bowl into the sink. "Well, what can I say?" He grabs the bowl of sliced watermelon Mom prepared last night and tosses a slice into his mouth. "Little man and I have good taste!"
"Speaking of little man—" I smile at Mark's nickname for Tue as I close the refrigerator door and point to a pinned paper— "he wrote this for you."
After setting the bowl onto the counter, Mark takes the page into his hand. He doesn't have to squint to make out the letters. "He's writing 'Thank You' letters? To me? At five years old?"
I can't help but smile at Mark's awestruck expression. "You made his day, and I guess he wanted you to know."
Mark's slack-jawed expression transforms into a radiant smile. "Can I keep this?"
"It's for you," I repeat, nodding, "so I think you're supposed to keep it. See the little faces at the bottom?" Mark nods, so I explain, "The artist says the big one is you and the little one is his latest self-portrait."
Mark smiles at the paper once more before folding it into his pocket. As we grab our snacks, we walk together to the back door. We stop once Mark asks, "Before we go back outside, can I ask you something?"
"Yeah." There's something petrifying about Mark's quiet voice, so I hope my smile will encourage him to speak up. "What's up?"
"You know how I'm working with the trainees?" When I nod, Mark continues, "As far as I'm concerned they're all set talent-wise. I only really work with them on dancing and rapping— Taeil is the vocal instructor."
Based on what I saw in the final five minutes of dance practice yesterday, I agree. It seems that the trainees get better with each generation. "They seem like they will make excellent artists one day."
"They will!" Mark beams, seeming as proud of his trainee's progress as he is of his own achievements. "I've been thinking about how else I can help them grow, and I think maybe we should spend time talking about, like, emotional wellbeing."
"That sounds like a good idea." I, for one, could have benefited from learning about that as a trainee.
"I'm glad you think so," Mark says slowly, "because I kind of want you to help me with those conversations."
My jaw drops. "Me?" By no means have I ever considered myself an expert on emotional wellbeing. "Why?"
Mark's head goes aslant; he looks at me as if challenging me to look at myself. "When I think of strength, I think about how you carried yourself in training when those girls were mean to you. I think about how you stayed best friends even when people watched you and whispered. I think about how you didn't fall apart when the media used to speculate about the idol who never debuted. I think about how you held your head high when people criticized you for dating, then marrying, then having a baby with Taemin. But mostly— " Mark smiles — "I think about how you changed your whole life for Lucas Tue. I can't think of anyone better to teach the trainees that as much as we love music, as much as we love being idols, there is a lot more to life than the spotlight."
I blink, wondering how, when, and why Mark became so well-spoken. My gaze falls onto the snack platter in my hands. "I— I don't know how to teach anybody that."
Mark sighs, dejected, and I compulsively admit, "But I want to learn. I would love to learn, Mark."
Before Mark can reply, Tue runs in through the open back door, asking, "Mommy, where—"
His voice falls flat as his eyes widen at the sight of Mark. "Mr. Mark Lee," Tue stutters, "I— I—"
Before Mark can reply, Tue runs back outside.
Mark looks at me, raising his eyebrows. "What did I do?"
Making my way out the door and into the summer sun, I explain, "He's being bashful because of that letter. He gets into shy moods from time to time."
"Oh, okay." As we set our snacks onto the table, Mark asks, "Wait, did I hear you right? Did you mean that you would help me with the trainees?"
From their sunchairs nearest to the snack table, Lucas and Taemin look up. Tue has concealed his flustered face against Taemin's chest, and he doesn't perk up at the sound of Mark's voice; he retreats further into Taemin's embrace.
Taemin meets my eyes. Although he is reluctant to pressure me with vocal encouragement, he offers a gentle smile that seems to whisper, "Go for it. You can do anything."
Lucas, true to who he has always been and always will be, is much louder about his support. He lowers his sunglasses. "Wait, you're gonna help me and Mark with the trainees? As in, we're having a mini ot8 SuperM reunion?"
Mark glances at me with apologetic eyes as he pops another slice of watermelon into his mouth. Once upon a time, I think I would have glared at anyone for putting me on the spot like that. Depending on who it was, I might have even scolded them. I can't bring myself to scold Mark, though; I can't bring myself to glare at him, and I don't want to try.
"I'll help," I decide easily, "in any way I can."
I guess I don't want to disappoint Mark's perception of me; I want to live up to it. I guess I want to believe Yesung— that I am meant to share my voice. I guess I want to believe Mom— that I can make the world a happier, brighter place with my light shining in it. I guess I want to be to the trainees who Mark is to them, who Mom has always been to me: someone who works a million times harder than the light dampeners to keep their light burning.
Tue lifts his head from Taemin's chest to cheer, "You can do it, Mommy! You're the best helper!"
As I sit by his side, Taemin raises his eyebrows, giving me a look that means, "I told you so. He knows you perfectly. I told you so."
"Thank you, baby," I wink at Tue. I whisper in his ear, "Mr. Mark Lee loves your letter, by the way."
Tue smiles and lays his head back on Taemin's chest. When he closes his eyes, he looks exhausted. I think he falls asleep in an instant.
Lucas follows Mark to the pool, I think, for fear of waking Tue with his booming voice. Thus, Taemin and I are alone with our son again, even at the bustling party hosted in his honor.
Taemin asks, "Are you happy today?" in a voice so quiet that I think he's whispering sweet nothing to our sleeping boy until his eyes rise to meet mine. "I remember you said, once upon a time, 'Life doesn't always go as planned, and I think that's okay as long as you like where you end up.' And I'm wondering again if you like where you ended up— if you like where you're going next."
My heart always flips when Taemin quotes our story. "I recall saying, 'Anywhere with you is where I want to end up.'" I reach for Taemin's hand— the one closest to me, the one that isn't secured around Tue. "I still feel that way, Anywhere with you is where I want to go next."
Taemin flashes a sparkling smile before puckering his lips, wordlessly daring me to kiss him. Because I am no coward, I accept the dare before he can even blink. And just when I think that this moment is too beautiful to pass, I hear it.
The snapping of Lucas's camera capturing us in a photograph.
#SuperM au#SuperM social media au#shinee au#shinee social media au#SuperM fluff#shinee fluff#Taemin fluff#SuperM imagines#shinee imagines#Taemin imagines#SuperM fic#shinee fic#Taemin fic#SuperM fanfic#shinee fanfic#Taemin fanfic#SuperM drabble#shinee drabble#Taemin drabble#SuperM drabbles#shinee drabbles#Taemin drabbles#Taemin texts#for you: 4 o’clock#kpop au#kpop social media au#kpop fluff#kpop fic#kpop fanfic#SuperM scenario
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