#i kinda failed to keep the blue undertones in her hair...

[soo-won]

Hi I tried to clean and edit a bit the Yona shikishi at the ikebukuro animate store atm. teehee. (Edit: I actually did several versions because I'm unsure of what's closer to the original. Choose whatever you prefer!)

I used the picture posted here.

[1moremilgram-enjoyer]

Trying (and Mostly Kinda Failing) to Give Meaning to Lyric Placement and Background Shapes in "Cat"

(Or: me going insane over things I’m not even sure mean anything)

Hello people of the jury! Today I want to talk about a few things about Kazui’s latest MV, Cat, which have been eating at my brain for a while. Essentially, the way that the transcribed lyrics show up all over the place, out of order, in different colors and languages; the shapes we see throughout the background in different colors; and what both of these things could mean. I emphasize could because it’s all a mess and I’m not entirely confident we’re supposed to read into these things as much as I’m reading into them here. But oh well, if I don’t share this my head is going to explode, so I might as well.

(There’s also a chance a lot of what I say here has been said before. Sorry if it’s redundant)

CW: Suicide and depression, tumultuous relationships, internalized homophobia.

OP what the fuck are you talking about

Let’s start with what I mean by “lyric placement.” As you’re probably aware, the Cat MV has its lyrics transcribed in a very particular way. Sometimes words show up way after the lines are said, sometimes they’re repeated, sometimes they’re in French, sometimes they have extra words thrown in there, etc.

The main thing that tipped me off that something may be up is this line:

As you can see by the subtitles, the line is:

Since when have I ignored my feelings? It’s better to be a let down, than be let down yourself.

However, the MV also has the word “lie” on screen, even though it’s never said in the lyrics. Unless the subtitles are wrong, but I trust that’s not the case.

Now, if I had a nickel for every time a weird-ass MV showing the inner thoughts of a blue haired liar with somewhat homoerotic undertones had English words which appear on screen yet do not correlate to the Japanese lyrics being sung… I’d have two nickels, which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice. (/reference)

And it’s not difficult to figure out why that would be the case. If you recall from his second voice drama, Kazui believes he should have kept lying to Hinako, to keep her happy. This is also stated in his interrogation questions.

(T1) Q18: Do you regret your “murder”?

Kazui: I do regret it. I should have kept lying.

Unless he’s lying, which he has no reason to do, we can tell he would have preferred continuing the lie if it meant Hinako stayed happy. That means, in his eyes, being a let down is worse than being let down himself. That’s why the word “lie” shows up when he says the opposite in the lyrics, he doesn’t actually believe it. It’s assumedly just something he told himself right before “letting down” Hinako by telling the truth.

So, since the MV pulls a cute little trick with this line, is it possible that the placement of the other transcribed lyrics is significant? Well, that’s what the rest of the post will try to answer.

Then there are the colors. As you know, geometric shapes of all kinds of colors appear throughout the MV, and I believe these could mean certain things. Take a look here, for example.

to touch, to caress

That’s the lyric we’re shown as Hinako’s crush towards Kazui is made evident for the first time in the MV. And in the background, we see a blue circle and a pink circle intersecting, and in the video, pulsating like a heartbeat. If we assume blue to be Kazui and pink to be Hinako, it’s showing the idea of the two being together, “touching and caressing.” I noticed this thanks to Napkin's MV analysis, I recommend you watch it if you haven't!

So now, if that really is significant, are the other shapes and colors significant? For one, as blueepink07 pointed out in this post, it’s possible large part of the color scheme was chosen to align with newspapers, because Kazui wants us/Es to uncover his lies as if we’re/they’re getting information from a newspaper, or something like that. For more specific ideas… that’s what the rest of the post is for.

Hypothesis

>The placement of the lyrics sometimes recontextualizes their meaning, and we have to figure out how.

>Lyrics in French, which are always smaller, are used in two ways. Either they simply repeat what the English words say, to give them emphasis, or they replace English words, which usually happens when the line alludes to Kazui’s "temptations", aka his homosexuality. And yeah, I’m assuming he’s gay, because in my eyes it’s honestly more heavily implied than some of the stuff we believe about other prisoners. I’ll give some of my reasoning later.

>The color of the lyrics and the shapes in the background can often be important, though there's a non-zero chance a lot of it is just aesthetics. As a warning, some of the wilder things I bring up not even I fully believe, but I'm going for the completionist route. If you have any better ideas for any of these, please feel free to tell me!

>Blue represents Kazui, pink represents Hinako. As much as gendering colors is stupid in concept, it is useful for symbolism, so.

>Light green represents Kazui’s "temptations", since it’s connected to the green apple which shows up repeatedly.

>Yellow… Okay, so this one is where stuff begins to break down. It’s really hard to tell what yellow could mean, but seeing the meanings the color usually has, I’ll say it represents a sort of desire for happiness. It’s similar to light green, but not quite the same, it’s more general. Yet, it still makes the same dark green color when it mixes with Kazui’s blue as light green does. His happiness and temptations are closely linked. Yes I’m even bringing the intersectional colors into this.

>Red represents Kazui’s deepest desires. It’s the color which floods the background as he bites the pigeon, after all. It’s “stronger”, deeper than light green and yellow, but it’s sorta similar still.

>A darker red appears occasionally on some intersections, possibly representing blood and therefore Hinako's death.

>Purple only exists as the intersection of two colors, but its meaning changes depending on which colors are mixing. When blue and red mix, it’s Kazui’s desires; when pink and blue mix, it’s Hinako’s desire to be with Kazui.

>Orange... shows up like once it's kinda weird. I took to google again, and it usually represents enthusiasm, which is different enough from happiness that I'm comfortable saying that's what it is.

>The reason so many colors have similar meanings is to be able to convey Kazui’s emotions with more nuance. Please bear with me.

>Sometimes, colors mix very little, to the point where I think it’s not meant to be important. I have to add this or else the post is impossible. You’ll see what I mean.

Alright, still with me? Sorry for the prelude, but it was easier to explain it all now before we really get started.

Unhinged Analysis, Start!

(Ah, Tumblr 30 image limit my beloved. Making me do shitty collages in Microsoft Powerpoint just so I can have visuals in my post about the funny apple man)

We open with the song title for obvious reasons, as well as blue backgrounds because it’s Kazui’s MV, a small overview of the colors we’ll see later, and a lyric repeated in both English and French for emphasis.

Lie until it gets better, follow the king of the masquerade

It’s the main thesis of the song, that Kazui, the king of the masquerade, believes it is better to keep lying until things improve than tell the truth and cause harm.

We also see his name and prisoner number, and an interesting introduction to the colors in circles. These are likely purely aesthetic, but if you want an actual explanation... uh.

UNHINGED INTERPRETATION START!

To the left, red and blue intersect and form pink, which doesn't usually happen. Usually, when red and blue intersect you get purple or a deeper red, not pink. I think the colors are partly inverted on this scene, noting the darkened background, so we're meant to take whatever the colors would usually mean, and reverse it. So Kazui and his deepest desires intersect on Hinako? Well, it's actually the opposite. Kazui's deepest desires don't include Hinako. Does that make sense? I say this is the meaning because the lyric there is "Love (plus) Destiny = Crap, smash it, shatter it, bye-bye". Keeping in mind the "destined love" is Hinako, it's clear Kazui doesn't like the relationship, we been knew.

The intersection also exists on the right, but there's also a white circle which inverts the inverted meaning and thus shows the truth. (???) So the part where Kazui is by himself turns into an enthusiastic orange and the intersection with his deepest desires turn into green.

You may have noticed that already makes absolutely no sense. I hope you can forgive me. Remember, I said they're probably just aesthetic here.

UNHINGED INTERPRETATION END!

Anyways, the masquerade lyric and the title show up again but in inverse order for aesthetic reasons, which I think is neat.

I really think this is just an introduction, and there's not much to read into.

The road the car is on is yellow and blue, with them mixing into dark green in the middle (that color does not exist on its own). As everyone does in life, Kazui is trying to stay on the road to happiness. Yes, we start off with quite a stretch, but most of this is going to be reaching, so. The dark green shows that part of that happiness would be something related to his “temptations”, his likely homosexuality.

There’s a pink circle hovering around, Hinako. She also seeks “the road to happiness”, and has her own desires (the red from the intersection of her pink and the yellow). That leads her to getting close to the blue of Kazui. Eventually, she becomes so prevalent in his life that her pink color strikes through the entire frame, showing the two were probably close in some way before the whole marriage thing happened.

I’ve already explained how and why the word “lie” is added into the visuals even though it’s not in the sung lyrics.

Behind “I just wanted” we see a blue and a light green circle intersecting almost fully, cementing light green as the things Kazui truly wants.

The circles behind “to touch, to caress” have already been explained.

“I just wanted to be touched” is accompanied with an interesting visual; a light green and a pink semicircle separated by a yellow triangle. I believe this represents the divide between Hinako and the things Kazui truly wants, the divide being his happiness.

You’ll notice that pink and light green intersect slightly, which is why I said sometimes that doesn’t mean anything. They don’t intersect enough for it to be significant. How much intersection is necessary for us to consider it relevant? Well… whatever fits the scene the best :v

“So” is pink for Whit- wrong fandom sorry

“So, it’s wrong?” With the pink “so”, Hinako stands behind all the regrets Kazui might have about what he’s done.

(My arms hurt from reaching too much-)

This scene is one of many which really makes me doubt the colors actually mean anything most of the time, but I can still try to think of an explanation. A lot of the colors pass by, as if they’re simply events and experiences in Kazui’s life. Temptations, happiness, etc, with nothing intersecting too much. Though worth noting, blue and pink never touch on this scene, as if Kazui doesn’t want to be too close to Hinako, even though she’s an important part of his life.

There is one intersection I think may be interesting, though. Front and center, a blue rectangle is split right through the middle by a red line. Although there’s a lot going on in Kazui’s life, his deepest desires are always right in his core, front and center. That’s part of why red works as these “deepest desires.”

Oh shove that! INNOCENT, isn’t that right?

The lyrics here are just what’s being sung, but it’s interesting that they’re on the floor. It’s almost as if Kazui is looking down on these words, disrespecting them by walking on them. He doesn’t truly think he can shove aside his wrongs, he doesn’t consider himself forgivable. At least, not yet.

(T1) Q19: Do you want to be forgiven?

K: I’m not sure. I also want my weakness to be tolerated, to be honest.

Well, sorry my guy, but I’m still voting you inno, compared to the other people here you did some wrong things but it’s really not that bad.

(I'm skipping scenes that don't have anything relevant)

The blue background is just because this is the turning point of Kazui’s life, when he succumbs to societal pressure to marry Hinako. A bit self-centered to think of your color when proposing to someone else, maybe, but that’s not entirely new for Kazui, huh? Flawed characters, gotta love ‘em.

However, you’ll notice the lyrics never actually make it into text.

Maybe, perhaps… or… could it come true… like It’s for the sake of true love, who wouldn’t lie for that?

These are some of the only lyrics in the song which are never ever transcribed. The others are:

Let’s take a breather

To be caressed by you, that would be perfection - I wanted to be loved, just like a cat

Lick that sin and oppose punishment, until you can meet the king of the masquerade

I cannot for the life of me give you a good answer as to why that happens, but I can give a weird and stupid answer!

Because “Let’s take a breather” is framed as the start of the conversation Kazui and Hinako had which led to her death, it’s possible the lyrics not transcribed are things Kazui said to her in that conversation, and they show up out of order. Not literally, he wouldn’t tell her he wants to be loved like a cat, but more so the meaning behind them. He told her he lied “for the sake of true love”, as he thought “it could come true” if he just stuck with it long enough. He wanted to be loved for who he is (“like a cat”), and, uh… to savor that sin of lying, so she can meet who he truly is? Maybe something like that.

I don’t know. It’s a huge stretch, but I don’t see why else they wouldn’t be transcribed.

Oh, yeah, this clusterfuck.

As far as I can tell, the lyrics here are only the ones from the following chorus, not the previous lines. I can make out, vaguely:

Love (plus) Destiny = Crap, smash it, shatter it, bye-bye That sticky-sweet sequence: Dinner + Camouflage + You-Know-What Loving Affection (minus) Love, it’s tacky, this two-way deceit Victim and Perpetrator, let’s keep it simple

I believe these lyrics are represented like this to show inner turmoil, a chaos inside Kazui’s mind. He despises the love assigned to him by “destiny” (societal expectations), but he goes with the sequence anyways: dinners (dates), camouflage (lies), you-know-what (you know what? I don’t actually know what that means, though I can assume). There’s affection, but it’s not really love. This love is a two way deceit, as Kazui lies to Hinako and himself, telling himself this is what he wants.

“Victim” and “perpetrator” are written only in blue, pink and yellow, representing the union of Kazui and Hinako in search for happiness, but excluding Kazui’s actual desires. (Or maybe it's just the newspaper thing). “Let’s keep it simple” is in both pink and blue because both of them are involved in the “victim-perpetrator” duo.

Notably, “Victim and perpetrator, let’s keep it simple” also shows up in French, again for emphasis. It’s a core part of Kazui’s character that he blames himself fully for what happened.

So this is the big part for all y’all Kazui/Bartender shippers out there. Kazui grabs a green apple out of a bunch of red ones, and it turns into a glass of an alcoholic drink. (The hand disappears from view for a moment, but it's still the same one as Kazui wears his watch and wedding ring on the same hand). And hey, you know how Hinako is represented by a red apple at the end? (Note how it falls and hits the ground, possibly representing Hinako’s suicide). I and others before me think red apples are women, the ones which Kazui is expected to like, while the green one might be a man.

I say that because it turns into a glass, which may represent the bartender, just as the next line plays:

Phew, oh wow I’m drunk Hey, so what if I said I liked-liked you, what would you do?

Note that he says the line, he doesn’t actually sing it, possibly implying it’s an actual thing Kazui said in real life. Now, it’s actually very possible that this isn’t happening at the bar from half itself. As pointed out by errorscribes in this post, the furniture doesn’t actually match either the bar or Kazui’s home, meaning he might be in a secret third thing. Still, however, the connection between the apple and the glass remains, especially since this “one thing turns into another” trick does actually happen a few times in the MV, notably with the wedding ring.

There’s a few more things which make me believe it, but that was just a small tangent to explain why I'm decently convinced Kazui is gay, since I still see quite a bit of discussion around that.

After confessing to possibly the bartender, Kazui explains he wanted to ask “so it’s out in the open.” Note how that’s color-coded blue, possibly implying Kazui is “out in the open”, as in exposed or, perhaps more literally, out of the closet. He seems laidback and relaxed as he says it, but it’s likely a lie, as the background suddenly turns to an ominous black while he retains the same position.

That’s when he says “I just got a little greedy”, with “greedy” repeated for emphasis. The pink is likely because this is something he wants to tell Hinako, as a sort of half-apology-half-excuse.

The lyrics of the next scene, with Kazui and Hinako having a dinner and all that, are transcribed right after, in what may be both the most interesting and the hardest-to-explain scene for this theory.

So, here's what I think we're looking at here. It's a chronological retelling of everything that happened after Kazui and Hinako got married, that's why the numbers are there. That's why the song's title, Cat, and Kazui's name are constantly on screen; it's the main story of the song.

We start with a glass falling, the calm before the storm, the moments before the disaster. In French and red, we see the lyrics from the scene prior:

All those things I wanna do that I can’t say out loud I gotta keep it inside and act The beating of this heart… see… it’s no longer about good and bad… it isn’t I realize the futility, but I still can’t help but dream

Kazui is repressing his feelings for now, those things he can't say out loud. The desire to express his feelings slowly stops being about good and bad, moral and immoral, it's a primal need, like a cat's need to hunt doves. See the connection to red?

"I realize the futility, but I still can't help but dream" is repeated in English for emphasis. Even though he knows it will be useless, he can't help himself, he wants to act on his true feelings. In particular, I believe the "dream" is to be loved by whoever the hell he confessed to (possibly the bartender), and this is what caused Hinako to commit suicide, seeing the distorted line in his Voice Character Reveal.

I'm so d[um]b... Wh[y] d[i]d I [h]a[v]e to [dr]e[a]m?

Note that "01" is written in both Kazui's blue and the yellow of happiness, showing that this scene is about him looking for happiness (deep analysis there, folks). Note the arrows, too. Hinako's pink arrow is literally between Kazui's blue and his happiness (yellow).

And that was when his feelings were repressed; because then, the glass hits the ground, showing that number 02 is when things went wrong. The lyric in English is "Phew, oh wow I'm drunk", as it's something Kazui isn't afraid of admitting. But in French, smaller, we see something he may want to say a bit quieter: "Phew, oh wow I'm drunk. Hey, so what if I said I liked-liked you, what would you do?"

(By the way, I'm not using direct translations, but rather what the corresponding lyric is in English. Probably should have mentioned that earlier)

We reiterate he’s drunk, potentially to further imply a connection to the bartender, and we have Kazui’s confession. Notice the colors used are yellow and red, possibly because we’re seeing the confession of Kazui’s deepest desires as he attempts to be happy. Well, technically you might say a few things are pink, but since the saxophone is red, I’m assuming that’s the main color we’re supposed to take note of. Instead, the pink is almost an afterthought, as if Kazui is only thinking of Hinako sparsely in brief moments of lucidity from his drunkenness.

03 is the weirdest in terms of colors. The lyric displayed is “Love (plus) Destiny = Crap. Smash it, shatter it, bye-bye.” I believe this is referring to the aftermath of the confession in 02, where the “destined love” of Kazui and Hinako starts to break down.

Why is there orange, then, if the relationship is breaking down? Well, because Kazui doesn't like the relationship. He's originally enthusiastic about revealing the truth and shattering the relationship (orange), because he thinks it will bring him happiness (yellow). Well, enthusiastic is maybe an exaggeration, but it's close to it at least. I'll explain what makes me believe that in a moment, bear with me. However, that's not how that would play out.

To see that it didn't go as Kazui had hoped, we have to look at the blue bars and the orange circles. It took me way too long to notice, but I think the blue bars are for the piano that plays in the scene, like the saxophone that showed up in 02. By that logic, the other thing could be some… kinda flute? I don’t think so. I have no idea what that is.

In any case, although it's a bit of a stretch, something interesting happens with these bars and circles. It’s hard to describe without the video, but if you look at them (preferably at 0.5 speed or something) you’ll see that when 03 first shows up, the bars and circles appear in a neat pattern, but as the lyric “solidifies”, the bars and circles begin “sputtering”, the pattern breaking down.

Neat pattern, few lyrics.

Broken pattern, full lyrics.

So, I think that's meant to represent Kazui hesitating about the destruction of his relationship. He starts enthusiastic, with the pattern stable. But as the idea that the relationship will come to an end starts to solidify, represented by the lyric slowly forming more and more, he starts to realize there might be some drawbacks he hadn't anticipated, which is why he starts to hesitate, and the pattern breaks down. The pattern doesn't have a concrete meaning, it's meant to give the vibe that Kazui is hesitating, which I swear makes sense if you look at it in the video please I swear I'm not that insane yet please-

The reason for Kazui's hesitation becomes evident in number 04. Do you see those white ovals around this number? Don’t they look a lot like clouds?

I believe this is the balcony scene, when Kazui tells Hinako the truth, and she commits suicide. That’s why her pink is front and center, while Kazui’s temptations lure in the background in light green. They’re the context, the set dressing, for Hinako’s part of the play, if you allow me some half-adjacent metaphors. The colors mix into a dark red which almost looks like blood. I don’t think I need to explain how the death scene is connected to blood.

And with this scene in mind, where Hinako dies after learning the truth, Kazui reaches the conclusion represented by the lyric on screen. “Lie, until it gets better, follow the king of the masquerade.” Repeated in French for emphasis,. After Hinako dies, Kazui starts to believe he should have simply kept lying as he was doing before, when he still was “the king of the masquerade.”

Does any of that make any sense? I am grasping at straws and trying my damn hardest to reconcile all these things, but most of them are nonsensical. I have to remind everyone, I’m still not entirely sure I’m not just looking at nothing here.

The lyric that plays as Kazui falls to his knees is "I can’t stop, I can’t be normal. This feeling, it can’t be gratified", which is transcribed in the next shot.

Before we get to the shapes, we have to talk about the added lyric, which I find very interesting. The word "can't", big in the background and in pink. Possibly because Hinako can't gratify "this feeling." However, there's a funny thing about the word "can't"; it's a homophone of Kant, the philosopher Kazui and Es discuss in the second Voice Drama. I think this might be intentional.

As the characters discussed, Kant believed that lying is always inherently inmoral, even if the liar has good intentions (oversimplification, don't come at me philosophy majors). However, I want to talk about it a bit more in depth. Although I am dumb and I am not very good at philosophy, what I could gather is that Kant believes lying is unethical because it impairs the ability of others to make rational, informed decisions. He argued that because our freedom ends where others' begin, then we cannot lie, for that would impair the other's freedom. Regardless of what you think about this belief system, it's clear some connections can be made with Kazui. Under this logic, his lies impaired Hinako's freedom, as presumably, she wouldn't have married Kazui if she had had all the information from the start.

(Again, I am likely oversimplifying things, but I am not gonna write a thesis on Kant to try and figure out the funny liar Cat-boy)

Why am I bringing all this up? Am I just trying to trick you into thinking I have any idea what I'm doing? Correct! Seems Cat taught you well to avoid misdirection.

But in all seriousness, it's because that logic is the best (read: not actually that good but it's what I have) way I have of interpreting the shapes on the background. There's yellow triangles crossed by blue and then pink, but notably, they intersect little and seem to go in different directions. As if the path Kazui and Hinako are in are different from the one which leads to happiness. The idea here is that while Kazui obviously isn't happy with how things are going, Hinako couldn't be truthfully happy under Kant's ideas. Because she wouldn't have true freedom of thought until Kazui stopped lying to her, so in a way, her own happiness was also a lie. Thus why the lines representing her always go in a different way from happiness. And because she can't be happy, the yellow of her fake happiness turns into dark red as it crosses that word, again possibly referencing her death.

Is it a stretch? Oh, absolutely! I don't even know if I'm interpreting Kant right! But I frankly have no idea what else these things could mean. It's possible some of the shapes are merely aesthetic, and this is one of the scenes which make me believe that. I'm open to audience participation, you figure it out.

More imagery of a scattered and broken relationship, with blue and pink shapes all around Kazui, but which only barely intersect. The small French words are part of the lyrics, "this feeling, it's yearning to be satisfied." As I said, sometimes French words are some of Kazui's more hidden thoughts. This brings up an interesting dichotomy of "this feeling can't be gratified" being expressed in English and bigger font, while "this feeling, it's yearning to be satisfied" is in French and smaller. It's possible Kazui finds it easier to admit that his feelings can't be satisfied, rather than admitting he wants them to be satisfied. Interesting insight if true, it would mean Kazui has an easier time accepting hopelessness regarding his feelings than actually admitting to the feelings themselves. It sounds a bit weird in text, but I think it sorta makes sense in an "internal conflict" kinda way.

Let's take a breather

Thank you Kazui, I really needed a breather after all those stretches I made. Anyways, as part of this MV imposed intermission, I want to explain what I meant when I said Kazui was "enthusiastic" to break off the relationship.

Kazui takes off the wedding ring and turns into a cigarette, as Hinako watches in horror. The symbolism here is important; what Kazui is doing is pulling back the curtain, he's revealing how he actually feels about the relationship. It's like a cigarette, something he engages in for some form of momentary relief, relief from societal expectations, but still something ultimately harmful for him. This truth is why Hinako looks so horrified.

And we see exactly what Kazui is trying to do with this relationship when he puts the cigarette to his hand. He's trying to put it out, and in his mind, this is an abrupt and almost violent act, as that's the impression we get from how fast this frame flashes on screen. It's also worth noting, the act of putting out a cigarette like this would also hurt, showing that Kazui is also harmed by this action.

With the understanding that Kazui is actively trying to end the relationship, also shown by him biting the dove later, his expression tells us a bit of how he feels about it. And it's all smiles and smirks up until Hinako falls.

Now, to clarify, I think Kazui is presenting himself as far more aggressive and enthusiastic than he actually was at the time. I really doubt he actually smiled when he broke the news to Hinako. But I also believe it isn't a complete lie, there was some enthusiasm on his part to maybe try to live the life he genuinely wanted. And that's why 03 has the color orange.

I'll repeat it because this really isn't something I want to be misinterpreted on. While Kazui was somewhat enthusiastic to break off a relationship which was clearly making him unhappy, the video is very much exaggerating how much enthusiasm he actually had. At least, that's how I see it.

As stated, the lyrics cut back and forth very quickly to give the scene an aggressive edge, as if Kazui revealing his feelings is somehow a visceral act of violence. Accompanying the words are the definitions in French, because why the hell not. And yes, some parts aren't transcribed. Don't ask.

Like I said, red floods the background, as Kazui’s deepest feelings become all encompassing for the scene. They’re what caused Hinako to commit suicide, after all.

As I mentioned, “to be caressed by you, that would be perfection. I wanted to be loved just like a cat” aren’t transcribed, but:

Maybe act capricious, at my word and at my fancy

Are the words which make up a silhouette of Hinako as she’s about to jump. If you’re unaware, “capricious” essentially means unpredictable, acting on impulses. So, like a cat. I believe the pictogram here is meant to represent how Kazui’s “capricious” actions led to Hinako’s suicide, and it doesn’t have to be more complicated than that.

… Well, there’s also a way to read this where Hinako is the one acting capriciously, killing herself purely on impulse. You know, it’s been pointed out before that Hinako’s hair was already fluttering when Kazui bites the dove, implying she was already falling when Kazui revealed his feelings and destroyed the marriage. If you want, you could read this as saying that Kazui is subconsciously aware that his truth wouldn’t be enough to push the average person to suicide, so Hinako was “already falling” in the sense she had some pre-existing issues which contributed to her decision. For example, if she was already suffering from depression. And thus, in a sense, she also acted unpredictably, capriciously, when she jumped.

I think this is a possibility, and it would make Kazui’s inner world more nuanced than it already is. He’s a smart man, so even if he can’t quite get himself to believe it, it’s possible he logically understands suicide isn’t something which people usually do for only one issue. I’m not sure if he would call her capricious, though, feels a bit mean in my eyes.

Anyways, while I wanted to acknowledge that possibility, I still think the first thing I said is the most straightforward interpretation.

Finally, my torture the video ends with the ever prevalent “Lie until it gets better, follow the king of the masquerade,” this time with yellow, blue and pink. For aesthetics mostly, I imagine, but it is interesting that once the apple splats, presumably representing when Hinako hits the floor, the color pink disappears, so “follow the king of the masquerade” only gets blue and yellow.

Another interesting thing is that the word “Lie” accompanies Hinako as she falls backwards, and it almost looks like a mountain of lies is pushing her back, as in, pushing her to suicide. “Until it gets better” and “follow the king of the masquerade” also have fun visual things, but I do think those are purely aesthetic.

Red consumes the background as we see Kazui covered in blood, the result of his deepest feelings in his eyes.

Finally, the last line, “lick that sin and oppose punishment, until you can meet the king of the masquerade”, isn’t transcribed anywhere. I’ve always found that line interesting, though. What does “licking the sin” imply? Is he speaking to us when he tells us/Es to “oppose punishment”? And have we not met the king of the masquerade yet? Presumably there’s a good bit of background we’re still missing on Kazui, but how far does it go? Is he trying to manipulate us/Es into an innocent vote?

… I swear, this fucker better not have a complete heel turn on trial three. I’m choosing to trust him… for now, but I might have to look into it further.

Still innoing him now though.

Conclusion

So what did we learn? Not really all that much, most of this is somewhat nonsensical, and almost everything else could be gleaned from the lyrics themselves. I just wanted to share my pain, even if I have my doubts about a lot of this. There were a few interesting things to note, I guess. I don’t know what else to add, frankly.

Anyways, inno Kazui. And while you’re at it, inno Amane too.

If you made it this far, then I think you deserve the color yellow! Take care!

[gallawitchxx]

ficlet tuesday: birthday edition 🥳

today is a most blessed day, the birthday of my sweet anna of @rereadanon, who has never failed to fill up my prompt cup & is a constant source of joy & inspiration. she has also planned the weddings of most of the au boy dolls around these parts, which is delightful. her tropes were slow burn + dom/sub undertones & well, they definitely become overtones, but i did my best!

enjoy 1.4k words of a quickie au for my muse on her birthday below or here on ao3!

- - - - -

The first time Ian Gallagher laid eyes on Mickey Milkovich, he was waiting to meet with his parole officer for the first time since he’d been released. He had no priors and a Bipolar diagnosis, and yet they gave him three years for blowing up a van. Something about endangering lives, and setting a precedent. 

He was out in two for good behavior.

Milkovich was the only other person in the waiting room. He was slouched in a chair, picking at the fraying threads surrounding a rip in the knee of his jeans, his bottom lip pulled tight between his teeth. The energy between the four dingy walls of the office was fraught—even the receptionist had snapped at someone over the phone—and as Ian’s eyes traversed from tattooed knuckles to cut arms lightly dusted with hair, up towards piercing blue eyes and ink-black hair, an extra jolt of electricity shot through him.

It felt both dangerous and incredible.

“Ey,” a voice said, breaking Ian from his reveries. 

Shit, Ian thought, his head snapping towards the stained ceiling. He’d been caught staring, in just about the worst place you could get caught staring—besides prison, which he’d already survived—and by a guy who looks like he would ruin his face before he’d ever let Ian bend him over and ruin him for anyone else.

“You like what you see?”

Ian exhaled, bringing his gaze back down to his fellow parolee, who’s eyebrows were cocked high up on his forehead, steam practically pouring from his ears.

“I wasn’t…“ he stammered. “I mean, I don’t—”

“You don’t like what you see?”

“No, that’s not what—Sorry, I just—“

“Milkovich!” bellowed the gruff receptionist. “You’re up.”

Thank fuck.

Milkovich slapped his hands against his thick thighs before standing, and Ian looked away again, trying to keep the desire to scratch, and bite, and lick, and soothe at bay. 

“Too bad,” Milkovich said, his scent of cigarettes and soap wafting egregiously into Ian’s space, and filling his mouth with spit. “I like what I see. Kinda wish I’d gotten to see you in cuffs, big guy.”

He was through the door and into the belly of the office before Ian’s brain came back online.

- - - - - 

The second time he saw Milkovich, he hadn’t even made it into the building, stopped dead in his tracks by the sight of smoke curling around plump, pink lips. It was enough to warm his frostbitten fingers, heat spreading from his dick through the pockets of his bright orange-lined coat.

Milkovich was bundled up tight in an oversized coat, a black beanie, and fingerless gloves, which hid his ink, but still allowed him to cradle a cigarette tenderly between his digits. 

Ian wanted to unwrap him like a fucking present.

“Staring again, Gallagher.”

Ian short-circuited. “How did you—Have we—“

“Christ, do you ever finish a sentence?” Milkovich huffed, taking another drag.

“Yes,” Ian answered with finality.

Milkovich smirked, scratching his nose with the tip of his thumb as if to hide his growing smile.

“We got the same PO. Seaver? Saw your file on the desk.”

“Oh.”

“Arson, huh? Kinda sexy.”

Oh. 

Ian had thought he’d imagined it before—how overtly this hot, brash criminal had been flirting with him. But now it was undeniable, and that made Ian fucking weak. He wanted to get this guy on his knees. See how he would respond to a little authority; figure out if he’d get bratty or willingly submit.

Worse, Ian kind of wanted to feel how he’d respond to it, too. Wanted to know what would happen if Milkovich were the one barking orders, telling him what to do, encouraging him to keep going, don’t stop, open up…

But then the guy was finishing off his smoke, pinching the cherry from the tip and stubbing it out with the toe of his boot. He chucked the butt into a nearby trash can, and opened the door to the office, either oblivious to Ian’s gaped expression or delighted by it—a master chess player who’s just a few moves from victory.

“You comin’ in, hot shot?”

Ian cleared his throat and followed.

- - - - - 

Ian has lost count of how many times he’s seen Mickey. 

Mickey, the supernova that had blasted his life wide open. 

Mickey, the wildfire that had chosen him, sure from day dot with certainty that perked his cock right up and screwed with his other head too.

Mickey, the hurricane that had felt familiar like his past, that had ripped his way into his present, and was  now barreling straight into his fucking future. 

Even now, as Ian’s tied to the headboard with some fancy silk scarves that he’d splurged on—neither one of them actually interested in being cuffed outside of a law enforcement setting—he can’t take his eyes off the man in front of him, who’s grinning vulpine and holding a remote control between fingers that had immediately stolen his attention, and have since been in his mouth, his ass, and wrapped around his dick, his throat, and his heart.

“Look fucking good like this,” Mickey says, his baby blues roaming with heated pleasure. “Bet you’ll look even better when—“

His thumb pushes a button that has Ian vibrating from the inside. He squeezes his eyes shut, his mouth falling slack with a whine that has Mickey chuckling.

“Yeah,” he groans. Pleased. “I was right.”

They don’t always need to play like this, but they’d be lying if they said it hadn’t provided some of their favorite orgasms, the two of them riling each other up, pushing, and pulling, and teasing, and commanding until they both fall the fuck apart.

They’d earned it: this comfort, this trust. For as quickly as they’d fallen into the sack—four meetings at Seaver’s office enough to have them jacking each other off in an alleyway near the L train station—the emotional aspects of their relationship had been a trudge. Two Southside felons with a slew of daddy issues didn’t provide the firmest of foundations for commitment. But they’ve made it work. They’ve been bold and brave, and when necessary, they’ve allowed for their wild physical connection to keep them afloat.

The court order to stay inside the city limits helped too.

“Mick,” Ian mewls, his prostrate almost numb against the pulsating plug.

“What’s that, tough guy? You want more?”

A few more clicks of the toy and Ian’s about to explode all over himself and the bed. But he also knows what would happen if he were to do that. 

Disobey. 

So he grits his teeth and lets his gaze go fuzzy over the light trail of hair that leads to Mickey’s thick, stiff cock. God, he wants to taste him, his tongue almost reaching for his length as his own dick dribbles against his stomach.

Mickey saunters over to the bed and climbs on, tossing the remote to the side.

“Goddamn Gallagher, look at you,” Mickey praises, doing absolutely nothing to help Ian come back from the ledge he’s so precariously teetering over. “Think you’ve been good enough for me to ride this monster?” he asks, running a finger up Ian’s reddened hard-on. 

Ian nods, reeking of desperation, barely able to squeak out a, “yes.”

“What was that?” Mickey asks, gripping him at the base.

Ian sighs with relief and tries again, finding his voice. “Yes, sir.”

It’s Mickey’s turn to nod, his other hand disappearing behind him to remove the plug he’d been wearing all night; the bulbous bung keeping Ian’s afternoon release warm inside of him. His eyebrows pinch as he pulls it from his body, throwing it towards the abandoned remote. Then, he straddles a quivering Ian and lines them both up, smiling lazily as the head of Ian’s cock pushes at his loose rim.

“Hold on tight,” he instructs, sinking down with practiced ease. Taking what’s his.

Ian knows what he means, understands that he’s both warning him about the wild pace he’s about to set, and alluding to the fact that Ian can’t go anywhere if he tried, but it’s more than that too. 

Even without the directive, Ian doesn’t plan on letting go any time soon.

[myelocin]

To Us, A Love Story Unwritten | Kuroo T., Miya A.

Hello!! Before you begin reading, THIS STORY IS A PART TWO to Redefining You , which I highly recommend you read first because a lot of things are connected! :D

Part 1 | Part 2 | Epilogue | Bonus

Synopsis: Time away from Tetsurou leads you to the serendipity that is Miya Atsumu. 

Characters: Kuroo Tetsurou, You, Miya Atsumu

Genre/Warnings/Tags: None! Angst,  HEALING, Hurt & Comfort, surfer!Atsumu, tattooed!Kuroo, Fluff

WC: 7600+

a/n: here’s a word dump of my feelings bcos i made an oopsie and projected real ppl in 2d characters again

*playlist if u want maximum feelies: Blue (Elina), Miles Apart (Nick Wilson)

-

The thought of healing didn’t cross your mind until some months later.

In the mornings after that morning, you stood in your balcony, leaning against the railing with a mug of coffee, your thoughts wandering. Sometimes you thought of what kind of coffee you liked, and other times you caught yourself wondering how Tetsurou moved through his six AMs. Morning thoughts were reserved for the things you prefer to keep out of your head during the day. Tetsurou, of course, had always been an exception. He somehow always flowed in your train of thought whether the numbers on your watch flashed 3am or 3pm.

Or now, you thought after taking a quick peek at the time in your phone, 6:19 AM; all you could think about was how sad his golden eyes looked against the black of Tokyo’s backdrop.

Tetsurou making his way into your thoughts has always how it’s been for almost a decade, and habits are a little hard to break. At least, that’s what you say to reason with yourself.

Thinking back to your words that night, the “I love you” just kind of slipped out. But you know you meant it. Shifting your wrist to the side, you studied the tattoo again, then closed your eyes to remember the expression on your best friend’s features.

You meant the I love you, you told yourself again. Towards yourself that was for sure; towards Tetsurou.

And that’s always going to be the case, taunted the voice in the back of your head.

After that night, Tetsurou had broken up with his long term girlfriend for good. Though he didn’t necessarily ruin himself over the breakup—there were changes.

He still texted you at odd hours to show you a video he thought was funny, still showed up to your apartment for movie nights, and more or less was still present. But it was during the particularly sentimental scenes in the movie where he’d choose to refill the popcorn or grab another soda, and you could see that his can was still half full. You noticing that Tetsurou always chose to pick the other boba shop that was on the other side of town never flew past you either. You knew that that was the shop he always used to take her after classes—so even seeing how his hands never failed to tighten against the steering wheel when the two of you would drive by, you always pretended not to notice. Even though four months had passed, you know that for him, the wound was still fresh.

And remembering how sad he looked that night, you couldn’t help yourself to feel for his pain. At the end of the day, weren’t you just two people who yearned for the love that couldn’t be yours?

So you sigh and take a sip of coffee from the mug; it had grown a little cold. The digital clock on your phone read 6:31 AM next to a text from Tetsurou asking if you had time for lunch later.

Replying a quick ‘yep. meet u at the usual :)’, did nothing for you trying to have a more productive day off today and thus the morning felt a little slower than normal, so you sigh. Again.

It was going to be one of those days.

-

Tetsurou always made it a point to look gorgeous. Was he trying? Probably not, but that son a bitch knew people gave him looks that lingered a bit too long to be considered just a passing glance. You nearly snort in laughter at the way he opens the door to the café a little too, for better words, extravagantly, and walk to you purposely taking his time because you could tell he felt the way the young mom sitting at the table near the counter was giving him the look.

Then again, you don’t blame her. You weren’t too far from her reaction, albeit you actually had the decency to not openly gawk at him. Tetsurou plopped down in the chair opposite from you and pushed his sleeves up to his elbows and propping them up the table before grabbing the menu from the middle of the table.

Already knowing your order, and his even though he still looks through the menu every time, you sit in your seat waiting for him to settle on the same thing he ordered the last time you ate there.

“Tetsu, why do you have to be so extra every time you see someone looking at you for more than three seconds?”

He cocked his head to the side and peeked at you from behind the menu, “Because I’m hot, tree.”

Though you rolled your eyes at the nickname, you still smiled at the familiar banter, “I still don’t get why you call me tree when you’re the literal beanpole in this friendship.”

“That’s rich coming from you, considering you told people you knew a talking rooster in highschool,” he deadpanned, but you knew he was on the edge of a chuckle from the way he emphasized his words.

“Hey,” you raised your arms up in defense, “people thought you were interesting that way so…”

Tetsurou set the menu down and rolled his eyes at your response as the waiter greeted the two of you. Before Tetsurou could open his mouth to say what he wanted, you spoke, “I’ll get the carbonara and he’ll get the tonkatsu ramen—“

“Oi-“ he interrupted from the side, still, you continued, “we’ll also get iced tea, extra sugar for him, and a little less for me.”

The waiter looked between the two of you waiting for Tetsurou to finish speaking but he only leans back huffing out a, “She’s right.”

You smirked. “You get the same thing every time.”

“Well what if I want something else one day?” he replied to which you rolled your eyes as a reply.

In between bites, Tetsurou looks up from his meal, “Any plans?”

You twirled the straw of your drink around the liquid and looked at him, “I was thinking of traveling somewhere. My boss is letting me take some time off, and season’s kind of slow, so might as well.”

He nods, and then points his chopsticks at you, sighing, “Oh to be young and employed with an employer who doesn’t want to kill you with work.”

“We’re literally seven months apart,” you deadpan.

He huffs in his seat and continues eating.

-

“Have you decided where you’re going?”

You look to your left at Tetsurou who’s facing you, no longer paying attention to the movie playing in the TV.  Smoothing out the blanket on your lap, you sigh and tilt your head. “Kinda? I’m thinking somewhere warm. Kinda miss the sea.”

At this point the movie you two settled on a few hours ago had been completely forgotten, so you shift your body and face him. He offers you your third (or was it the fourth?) can of beer for that night, which you take and pop open immediately.

“(Y/n), can you even swim?” he laughs.

You glare at him from behind your drink. “I can go and look pretty in the beach while sipping my margaritas thank you very much.” 

Tetsurou clinks his can against yours and leans back against the couch, shifting to a more comfortable position. When he finally settles, he positions his head in a way that’s still facing you.

Draping your legs across his lap, you rearrange the blanket so that it covers the both of you. You feel the weight of his hands leaning against your legs and then hear him speak, “How long are you gonna be gone?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, a month? Two months? Haven’t even got the ticket yet.”

He gives you a look you can’t decipher, and then his voice becomes a little quiet, “What if I want to go with you?”

“Tetsu, you know your job won’t let you off that long,” you reply. 

He lets out an exaggerated sigh and pout at you, “You’re going to go and find a new surfer best friend who’ll buy you margaritas that flips his hair and you’ll forget about me.”

You chuckle. “Like that’s gonna happen.”

At this point the alcohol must have hit the both of you because you suddenly look at him, eyes soft in the way you usually would mask in the hours you were sober. He looks at you, equally as deep in the state of inebriation as you are because his eyes are as hazy as the slur in his tone when he says, “Nope! Because you looooove me (y/n).”

And he laughs at his own joke, tilting his head back to take another swig of beer. The comedic undertone flies past you anyway, because you fiddle with the edge of your sweater and sadly nod, “Yeah. I do”

In front of you, Tetsurou raises his hand, smiling, then hollers, “High five! Love you too.”

If it wasn’t for the liquid confidence, you would’ve laughed along to his joke and take another gulp of your beer to swallow the confession—but you’re four cans in and Tetsurou saying that he loves you too clouds the usual boundaries swimming in your head.

He doesn’t notice you when you take another heavy gulp from your can, or bite your lip afterwards, but he hears you when you say, “I do, you dumb fuck, I love you.”

And as soon as you say it, you feel him look at you. You choose to keep your head down. A few beats of silence passes before he speaks, “I know, (y/n),” he reaches forward to grab your hand, taking it into his. He traces the lining of the tattoo before continuing, “I know your tattoo story. And I’m still proud of-“

“I love you, Tetsurou,” you could almost wince at how loud it echoed in the silence, and the alcohol is still swimming in your system so you take another gulp hoping to dive deeper.

You feel him stop tracing the lines on your wrist so you take your hand back to your lap. He let the quiet envelop the room again before he spoke, and you could tell he was careful with his words.

“That time in the balcony, when you said you loved someone…” he trailed off so you look up and catch his stare. His eyes were still glassy; your head was still swimming, the rational thoughts further muffled by liquid confidence.

“I meant you,” you say, and try to fight the urge to break eye contact.

And because Tetsurou chooses to reply with a hushed ‘I’m sorry.’, you tell him ‘it’s okay, Tetsu.’ and retreat to your bedroom with a mumbled excuse of sleeping off a headache.

You lie in the dark with one hand over your eyes and sniffle quietly. You hear his “I’m sorry,” echo in the silence, but you try to ignore the thought at how immediate the apology was. He always had a habit of thinking about his answers in uncertain situations.

But you know him more than you give yourself credit for, you realize, so you shut your eyes and ignore the sting of the tears because you know. You’ve always known everything you felt for him had been on the unrequited side for the most part.

The certainty in his apology still hurt none the less.

--

That morning you wake up with a slight pound in your head and an empty apartment. At least he didn’t stick around, you thought, fully aware that the conversation afterwards would have most likely been too awkward to sit through.

Sighing as you rounded the corner to enter the kitchen, you paused in your track to look at the table where a plate of omurice lay in the middle next to a glass of sweet tea, the condensation still a little fresh on the glass.

Taking a seat and whispering a soft, “Itadakimasu”, you picked up the glass and took a sip. It didn’t taste as sweet as his.

Your eyes still stung, but you couldn’t help but smile at the taste. Looks like he remembers how you like your tea too.

-

After that night, there never really came a talk about where the two of you stood. Two days after the not so sober confession, Tetsurou showed up at your door with a bag of donuts demanding your company to picnic at this new spot he found recently. So you played along and pretended like nothing happened. The rational thoughts were back, your head no longer cloudy so this time, you laughed along with Tetsurou.

Though you could tell this time around his gaze towards you lingered a little longer, and he began to have moments where it looked like he was contemplating to start a conversation then ultimately deciding against it at the very last second. It was fine, though. You weren’t sure if you were ready to have that conversation just yet.

So the next few weeks flowed like how it always did. Movie nights, playful banters, small talk, and beer—only this time you never drank more than two.

“Have you decided where you’re going?” he asks.

“Yeah, there’s this island in the Philippines. Siargao. My flight’s next week. The place looks sunny enough, but I might hop around the other islands if I stay long enough,” you reply.

“Don’t drown,” he laughs, and sets his beer down. You turn your focus back to the movie after chuckling at his reply and ignore how he never picked up a third can this time. And unlike before, he didn’t ask if he could come along this time.

-

Tetsurou drops you off with a half hug and a request that you update him as often as you can.

After a final wave at the gate, you board the plane with a return ticket to Japan slotted for two months later down the year.  

-

The island of Siargao is as beautiful as the pictures you always see on social media. Outside the unit you rented, was a stretch of untouched beach that was some ways from the main square of the city. And true to your words, for the first week of your arrival, you spent your days kicking the sand, lounging by the water and sipping on margaritas.

Tetsurou sent you multiple messages during the first few days, to which you replied through selfies with your margaritas. He’d send you a photo of himself rolling his eyes with the caption “off to work, because I have a job. Like some people.” , or something along similar lines.

You tried to think this wasn’t some random trip you took just because of Tetsurou. It had been a long time since you last took a vacation for yourself; work was lenient, you saved up enough, and frankly, you missed the beach. Tetsurou was just the icing on top of the cake that helped you make your decision, you rationalized.

Plus, you thought, this place is paradise.

And you held on to that thought because a few days later came the knock on your door at six in the morning that introduced you to the serendipity you never could have predicted. Your little summer serendipity came in the form of a six foot one, and totally ripped blonde named Miya Atsumu.

He knocked at your door asking if you knew any places that rented out surfboards and scooters. By the time he was at the third word of his sentence, you knew he was Japanese because of the accent that lingered after he spoke. By the fourth sentence, he smiled in a way that had his eyes crinkling. And by the end of the conversation, by whatever being possessed you in that moment, probably that extra margarita, you had agreed to go to the main square in the city with him.

Atsumu knocks on your door for the second time that day at five in the afternoon wearing a loose white button shirt and another eye crinkling smile. Dangling a set of keys in one hand he nodded behind him and said, “Ready to go? I got the scooter from the place you told me.”

This time, you voiced out your hesitation, “Ahh, it’s alright. You don’t have to get dinner for me tonight. I just happened to know a place.”

He smiles and blinks at you laughing, “Ya travelin’ alone?” You nod then he continues, “Same here. Might as well know someone in the area. Heard the food here’s good, so let’s go.”

You open your mouth to protest but he turns and walks towards his scooter so you huff and follow after him. He did have a point. You were going to be there for two months so might as well actually take the time to know some people.

-

After Atsumu helps you fasten the belt on the helmet, he tells you to ‘feel free to hold on to my waist if ya need to balance.’ and then backs to the main street. Your hands rest on his shoulders as he drives along a road parallel to the stretch of water on your far left. It must have been close to seven, you take note, because as you glance up the colors in the sky begin to blend into mellow hues of orange and red.

You look forward and glance at Atsumu’s reflection in the side mirror before briefly catching his eye. From the mirror, you could see an expression that was somewhere between a smirk and a smile.

“Ya like what ya see?” he yells over the wind.

You squeeze his shoulder, then lean closer saying, “Just drive. I’m not in the mood to die.”

He laughs over the holler of the open air and you can’t help but smile along to how his laugh lingers in the air.

Soon enough, the two of you settle into a restobar by the beach, one close enough to the water where you could ditch your flip flops and let your feet sink in the sand.

This has got to be the fifth margarita I’m drinking today, you think to yourself before taking a sip. Still good though, you inwardly snort. Atsumu sits across you from the table nursing his own choice of drink.

The atmosphere was nice, the live musician strumming his first song in the background. Then Atsumu speaks from across you, “So,” he begins, “How long ya stayin’?”

You fiddle with the straw of your drink, facing him, “Two months. You?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know yet. Off season and there’s not much to do back home, so might as well be bored somewhere a little more scenic.”

“Indefinite vacation,” you nod—impressed, “Must be hella loaded.”

He laughs again, “I’m comfortable.”

The silence envelops the two of you again, but as the musician begins another song, from the corner of your eye you see Atsumu listen, clap, and smile so you decide maybe befriending this stranger won’t be so bad after all.

The next night you head for go for drinks, Tetsurou messages you with a picture of him and Kenma in the car with a caption, “movie night minus the traitor who left the country >:((“ and you reply with your signature margarita selfie with Atsumu throwing a peace sign to your right. Tetsurou replies with a smiley face and you don’t hear from him for the rest of the night.

-

The next few weeks consisted of waking up shy of the sunrise and walks along the trail where the waves crept towards the sand. Atsumu liked to join you in the mornings, of course, the days he actually wakes up before ten AM. Some days you’d watch him peddle out into the water catching wave after wave as you sat in the sand, under a shade. You didn’t really go out into the water and preferred to just sit in the sun, so the times Atsumu would catch a break, he’d lay out a towel next to you and sit to talk.

He was talkative. Extremely talkative. But it was welcome, you suppose. He asked aimless questions during conversations. Conversations with him usually sounded like this: “(y/n)?” “Yep?” “Whadda ya think about riceballs?” “They’re…okay, I guess.” “Good to know.”

It was endearing, you suppose. Atsumu respected your boundaries and never pried, that fact was for sure. Though, he chose to fill in the beats of silence with little facts about his life. Over the course of the next month, in the moments you’d spend with Atsumu during the day, you’ve learned that he was playing for a professional volleyball team, he’s originally not from Tokyo, he tripped during a fan meeting, has a twin brother who’s darn good at cookin’ (he emphasized), and that his favorite food is fatty tuna. You don’t remember specifically asking, but he talks anyway you can’t bring yourself to mind one bit.

During the past month and some, Tetsurou sporadically texts you a greeting to which you reply to—but this time, it wasn’t until much, much later that you realize you didn’t think too much about the change of tone and much hastier conversations. You usually ended the phone call this time around, too.

Nearing the last few stretches of golden hour, Atsumu would routinely knock at your door and drag you out to walk around the beach only retreating to your respective units hours after the sunset.

It was during this one night where Atsumu sits you down and stars a small bonfire. He excused himself for a brief moment then came back with a Tupperware of what you assumed to be snacks, a blanket, and a hoodie which he lent you (that up to now you still haven’t returned).  You smile as he takes his seat next to you, comfortable in his hoodie.

“So,” Atsumu breaks the silence, “how come yer runnin’ away for two months?”

“That’s kinda sudden,” you reply.

He knocks your shoulder with his lightly before speaking again, “You don’t have ta’ share if you don’t wanna.”

“No pressure,” he says again and his eyes crinkle at his smile so you press your shoulder against his and say, “I just wanted time for myself I guess.”

He nods, so you continue, “It’s nothing dramatic, really. For a big part of my life I just…lived according to how people placed me in their lives. I guess I just wanted the space where I had to make decisions from nothing if that even makes any sense.”

“Depends. How many margaritas did ya have today?” he jokes.

“Atsumu! You were with me the whole day, I haven’t even had one yet,” you laugh out.

“But I understand what ya’ mean. Yer all good, I just thought you were gonna say you were soul searchin’ cause of a boy that broke ya’ heart back home.”

You look at him and wince. “In a way, that was a factor as well.”

Half expecting a sympathetic reply, you find yourself rolling your eyes and laughing because Atsumu suddenly yells, “Bingo!” and flicks your forehead.

He faces you and holds his hands up, “Hey, we all got a reason to do stuff so I ain’t gonna judge ya’.”

You smile and lean against his shoulder because you know he’s sincere. 

“Atsumu?” you call out.

“Yeah?” he replies as he turns his head looking at you. 

The red of the flames flicker as a glassy reflection against the brown in his eyes and your thoughts become jumbled for a second.

“If I find out you’re here because you got dumped I’m never letting you live it down.”

His eyes crinkle along with his laugh and you find yourself missing the pools of brown, but the echo of his laugh resonates clear in your ears as compensation so you decide you’re satiated.

“I swear I just got bored back home!”

Atsumu spends the next few hours by telling you stories and giving you soft smiles, and you don’t notice the absence of Tetsurou’s message that night.

-

On the afternoon after some weeks more, Atsumu comes to you by knocking at your door at five in the afternoon (which doesn’t even surprise you at this point), demanding you put on swimwear because he was going to teach you how to swim. At first, you stare at him with a blank look—wherein he stares at you right back with equal intensity, so after some time, you sigh and shoo him out, telling him you’ll meet him outside after you get ready.

After tugging on some shorts and a bikini top, you walk outside and glance around looking for the telltale blonde of Atsumu’s head. It doesn’t really surprise you when you hear your name being hollered from some distance, so as you look to the direction of the water—you see Atsumu waving his arms wildly, already waist deep out in sea.

The water was warm, at least, and you carefully wade in the water towards Atsumu. He lets you grab his arms to help you find balance against the waves knocking against you.

“You know you’re going to fail if you try to teach me right?” you say.

“Just needed an excuse to get you in the water,” he chuckles. 

You respond by splashing him with a handful of water. And somewhere in between splashes of water and playful banter, you find yourself wading chest deep into warm water, Atsumu’s arms acting as your anchor against the push and pull of the waves. The two of you stay like that for some time and you allow the woosh of the water and distant sounds of the children on shore fill the silence.

“Golden hour’s almost up, ‘Tsumu, we should go back.” you say after some time. 

He stands behind you and leans down a bit, then surprises you as he wraps his arms around you, pulling your back to his chest. Your breath hitches, then his voice sounds low near your ear, “Look at the sky.”

And so you do. The sky in front of you lights itself in bursting shades of oranges, reds, and touches of violets. You turn your face to the side but stop because you see Atsumu staring at you, the expression on his face soft.

“Pretty, ain’t it?” his lips part to say, and you nod because you see licks of the sky’s painting reflected in the glassy brown pools of Atsumu’s eyes.

He blinks and smiles in a softer way that only the corners crinkle up, and you don’t notice how your hand eventually found its way to wrap around his because you’re gravitating towards him—face angling closer until you felt his lips press against your forehead.

“Did you know,” you begin, “when you feel deja vu that means the universe is telling you you’re going down the right path?”

Atsumu looks as you, “Does this feel familiar?”

“In a way,” you respond and smile.

Turning to face him, Atsumu’s hands cradle yours as he presses his lips towards the side of your lips, then back to the side of your head feeling him smiling into the kiss. “You’re somethin’ else, (y/n).”

You look at him wearing a smile mirroring his, “Something good I hope.”

It’s something good, you decide later that night as you settle in bed after dinner with Atsumu. The past few hours flew by in a mirage of good conversation, light hearted jokes and even more eye crinkling smiles from Atsumu.

Settling into the comforter, you grab your laptop just in time as Tetsurou’s face pops up on screen, requesting a video call. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you hit the accept button and wave hello as Tetsuou’s face appears on the screen. He holds a can of beer as a greeting and leans forward. His eyes look glassy.

“(Y/n)..” His voice trails off before slowly continuing, “—how are you?”

You don’t notice his tone from the high you’re still feeling from the day so you beam at him, “I’m good! Atsumu and I are really hitting it off! You’d love him Tetsu!”

He stares at you through the webcam and then he sighs deep. Finally catching a drift of the atmosphere he’s giving off, you watch him crack another beer open and slowly speak, “You okay? Did something happen?”

He sets the can down at the table in front of him and places his face in his hands. You notice the new ink around his forearms. “I miss you, (y/n).”

“I’ll be home next week, Tetsu,” you say

“I—“ he pauses to look up at you with glassy eyes, “I think we should give us a try.”

Your heart clenches. “Tetsurou, you’re drunk. We can talk when I get home.” He shakes his head, and his movement is a little sluggish, so you continue to speak before he could, “I saw the photo your ex posted earlier. You’re still not okay, Tetsu.”

He leans back to his chair with a little force, “And suddenly you are? After being in love with me for eight years, (y/n), you expect me to believe that you’re suddenly okay? Bullshit.”

Your face grimaces, and you feel anger bubble up, the emotion seeping into your words, “I don’t think you’re ever going to go away, Tetsurou. For years I watched you fall in and out of love with someone who was never me. I’m not suddenly okay but I accepted that this��“ you pause to gesture between the two of you, “—isn’t going to happen and I’m moving on. I watched you when you were at your happiest and I deserve that too, Tetsu. I deserve to be at my happiest whether it be by myself or with Atsu-“

“We can try, (y/n),” he cuts you off softly.

“But I don’t deserve someone who isn’t sure about me,” you reply.

And maybe it’s the liquid confidence that riles him up, but he suddenly straightens his back and looks at you with the same glare you stare at him with, “And are you sure about Atsumu? You told me none of us are saints, (y/n), you’re not better off than I am here.”

You open your mouth, but the silence remains; the atmosphere suddenly heavy.

Then Tetsurou slumps before he he speaks, “(Y/n), I—“  

“It’s okay, Kuroo,” you watch as he winces at his surname, “It’s late and I really want to get some sleep. You should too. Take care.”

You catch the last second of him parting his lips at an attempt to reply before you promptly ended the call and shut off your laptop.

His words ring in your ear the entire night, and you think of Atsumu the entire night. You watch the second hand of the clock on your bedside table tick slowly. Your hand comes to rest against your eyes as you try to let sleep pull you in.

You think of Tetsurou who looked at you with glassy eyes that told you all the reasons why his heart was still hurting, then you think of Atsumu—of how the sunset looked better reflected in his eyes than it did painted across the sky.

“I really hope this is something good,” you echo your words from earlier as you let sleep finally succumb into slumber.

-

The night before your flight, Atsumu seats you outside for a bonfire, with the same blankets, snacks, and hoodie fitted around you. The first few hours he jokes about little stories that happened throughout his life and listens patiently when you’d share a snippet of yours.

At this point, you weren’t sure where the two of you stood. You look at him from the corner of your eye as he blows against an extremely burnt marshmallow before sheepishly offering the stick to you.

“When we’re back in Japan I’m lettin’ ya taste ‘Samu’s cookin’ to make up for this I swear.”

You lean your head against his arm and blow on the charred marshmallow, “Have you decided when you’re coming back?”

“Yes, but I’m not tellin ya,” Atsumu chuckles.

“What!” You exclaim, suddenly sitting up, “You already have a ticket?”

“That’s also a secret, doll.”

You sigh and move to lightly punch his shoulder, but instead, he catches your hand midway and envelops it in his own. Atsumu looks at the tattoo on your wrist peeking out, so tentatively, he pushes down the sleeve and looks at it.

“Baby’s breath means eternal love, right?” he asks, voice hushed.

“I’m surprised a big, buff, man like you knows,” you reply.

“Oi, big buff men can be sentimental too,” Atsumu quips.

“(Y/n),” he begins then looks at you in a way that suddenly has your stomach churning, “Should we give us a go at this?”

He asks the same question as Tetsurou did a few nights back and your head is swimming. Tetsurou’s words muddle the thoughts in your head as you turn to face Atsumu who is looking at you with eyes that always held the same softness that remained unchanged from two months ago.

Is this even fair for Atsumu? is the thought that you circle around.

“I don’t want to give you only half of me, ‘Tsumu,” you cradle his cheek in your palm and your heart stirs when he leans in. 

“You’re too good for me,” you confess.

He closes his eyes and you find yourself missing the dancing specks of scarlet flames reflected in his orbs. 

“You’re killin’ me, doll,” he sighs, his face still warm against your palm. Atsumu’s hand trails up and cups your hand that’s still flush against his cheek.

“Is this the part where we say we’re the right people who met at the wrong time?” he jokes quietly. Atsumu looks at you with a smile contrasting against the somber expression in his face, and you feel your heart clench.

Your thoughts momentarily flicker back to the night you talked to Tetsurou in your balcony some months ago and remember the feeling of déjà vu hinting that you were heading in the right direction with your decision.

Staring back at him, you look at your own reflection in darkened pools of brown and don’t feel déjà vu’s familiar push. Atsumu’s other hand trails up your face and his thumb rubs against your cheek. You stay silent when he sighs again and your heart clenches in the way that hurts, and your brain scrambles for a reason why.

Atsumu angles your hand in a way that lets him press a kiss to the tattoo on your wrist. “Hope ya heal in time, (y/n).”

You’re still quiet, thoughts still muddled as your rationality wrestles to string words to convey to Atsumu. “We can stay in contact, ‘Tsumu. I still want you to be in my life,” you slowly say.

“I don’t wanna be hurtin’ you while you’re still tryin’ to find yourself,” he says, and you nod. Déjà vu never comes and your heart still aches.

And your heart remains heavy as the two of you stand up to retreat for the night. Against the door of your room you look at him and press a kiss on his cheek. He smiles at you.

“Well, I guess,” you initiate, “see you around?”

He smiles and crosses the short distance between the two of you, then presses a chaste kiss on your forehead. “If the universe wills it, doll.”

The feeling of déjà vu is absent for the rest of the night.

-

After the first few days of your arrival back in Japan, you stay in your apartment cursing the winter. This particular winter was a little harsh for Tokyo and the sudden temperature change you needed to adjust to didn’t help with your traitor immune system. Kenma had waited for you at the arrival area of the airport instead of Tetsurou that day. Then again, you weren’t complaining—you didn’t have any plans to talk to him immediately after coming back home.

You didn’t need to report back to your job until the next week so the first few days, you loitered around your apartment mindlessly passing the time. Some mornings, you’d drag a chair by the balcony and sip your morning coffee. The snow accumulating on the rails and the gloomy morning light was a far cry from the little island you explored with Atsumu back in the Philippines, but your thoughts still ghosted around him from time to time.

The morning you left for the airport, he slept in, but that didn’t stop you from leaving a sticky note in his front door with your contact details neatly printed in the paper. Throughout your day, your eyes constantly flickered to sneak glimpses at your phone’s notification bar, but there was never an unknown number. So you sighed, and instead scrolled through the photos you managed to capture with him. The image of Atsumu stared back at you through the screen, expression beaming with unfiltered happiness and you find yourself smiling along every time.

A knock on your door one morning brings you out of your haze. Before you could look through the peep hole, another knock comes and then a voice, “Ah, (y/n), I think you’re home now,” your hand on the door knob loosens, “It’s Tetsurou. Can we please talk?”

You must have stayed quiet too long because he speaks again, “I got you donuts.” 

And you sigh, because he’s right, the two of you need to talk. But you still tell yourself you’re only opening the door because it’s six in the morning and you can’t be bothered to make breakfast so the donuts are the only reason you’re letting him in.

-

Tetsurou sits on the opposite side of the dining table gripping the handle of his mug with one hand before he clears his throat and looks at you, “I’m sorry.”

“Tetsurou,” you begin, “You’re someone that I don’t think will ever leave my system.” His eyes are a little clearer now that you return his stare. “You’re still the person who grew up with me even if time difference existed you know. You’ve had so many roles in my life and that’s never going to change.”

He looks at you, suddenly looking like a teenager again. His golden eyes stare at you and gleam of something unspoken. “I think somewhere along the years I really did fall in love with you, (y/n). And it just sucks how we never met at the same page. I really do love you, (y/n).”

“Maybe in the next life, Tetsu,” you say suddenly choked up. “We both deserve-“

“A fresh start.” He cuts you off, smiling. “A fresh start.” You affirm.

Before you knew it, Tetsurou rolls his sleeve to his elbows and angles his arm showing you a small outline of the sun peeking out behind some buildings. You look at him just in time for his explanation, “It’s not as sentimental as your baby’s breath tattoo, but sunrises remind me of you.”

You feel your eyes water when you look at the amber of his eyes growing glassier, “You got a tattoo that reminds you of me?”

“You’ve always been a constant in my life, (y/n). I shared so many sunrises with you. And I mean it when I say that I want you to find what makes you happy.” He tells you as you smile and lean forward, tracing the lining of his tattoo. The moment feels a little like déjà vu that doesn’t disappear when Tetsurou speaking again, “I love you enough to realize that kind of happiness won’t be with me, (y/n).”

He looks at you and everything feels so familiar. You choke out a sob that sounded a little like a laugh and Tetsurou does the same.

“You’re never getting rid of me, you lunatic,” you say, and Tetsurou laughs—eyes glassy from the pricks of tears fighting to slide down his cheeks. “We’re okay, right?” He asks you. And you nod, because your heart constricts in a way that doesn’t hurt, the knot in your stomach gone and Tetsurou looking so beautiful from the morning light that filtered in feels so familiar.

“Always, Tetsu.”

And after some moments of comfortable silence, he looks to the window on his left saying, “So, surfer dude slash volleyball player, huh? I think you got a type going on, (y/n).”

You roll your eyes and finally grab a donut from the box. “Yeah.”

Tetsurou chuckles, “Tell me about him. He’s the first guy who makes you look dopey in love.” So you smile and look out the window thinking about the boy who spoke of the little moments and showed you worlds under the sun and feel your heart mellow to a gentle beat, “He’s something good.”

-

Atsumu’s number doesn’t show up on your phone for the next month, but you try to keep yourself from doing your own research, or as Tetsurou pointed out, stalking, for his presence in social media. If he didn’t want to be found, you’d just leave him to it.

Tetsurou sits across from you at the arrival gate in Haneda airport later that month, scrolling through his phone and mumbling curses because Bokuto, his friend, had told him the wrong time for his arrival and won’t be arriving until a few hours later. Instead of driving back home, wasting gas, and sitting through traffic, you suggest to pass the time at a café instead.

“I swear to god, (y/n), remind me to end my friendship with him the second he lands,” Tetsurou huffs from across you.

“You’re being dramatic again,” You roll your eyes, laughing. 

“He’s gonna be here in a bit,” you pause and stand up, grabbing your phone, “I’ll go check the board so stay here.”

“Since you left your wallet here, I’m treating myself to another frapp, thanks (y/n)!” you hear him call from behind you, so you turn to flick him off as you keep walking.

-

Looking at the board above the gate, your eyes scan to look for information regarding Bokuto’s flight. Under said flight, you smile looking at SIARGAO listed within the board. Briefly, your thought wonders off to Atsumu; you hoped he was doing well.

A flow of people begin to trail out of the gate and into the lobby. Assuming that it must be from Bokuto’s flight, you stand on your tip toes from your little corner to look for the telltale monochromatic palette of his hair.

Grabbing your phone, you hastily press call to Tetsurou’s contact name, to which he answers with a drawled out “Heeelllloo?” along with an exaggerated slurp to the Frappuccino he bought with your card.

You open your mouth to tell him to come over, except that you don’t because standing a few meters in front of you is a familiar blonde.

From the phone in your ear, you hear Tetsurou call your name, so through the haze in your thoughts, you mumble a quick “Never mind.” and hang up. You don’t think Atsumu notices you just yet because he’s pulled his luggage to the side, a little closer to you this time, and pulled out his phone to what you could guess was him texting somebody.

You don’t speak for the first few beats of silence because, holy shit this is fanfiction material—is this actually happening? Eventually he pockets his phone and looks around, before his eyes spots you, who at this point, is still openly gawking at him some distance away.

Then three things happen in succession; first, Atsumu’s eyes widen, second, he blinks really fast, and then finally, third, cracks a smile.

And as soon as his smile pushes the crinkle in his eyes, you feel yourself release the breath you’ve unconsciously held in. He pushes his luggage with him as he walks towards you, hand held up in greeting and the smile still plastered wide on his face.

“Yo,” he says and your heart bursts with your reply that came out a little more breathless than you’d expected, “Hi.”

-

Tetsurou stands some distance away from the two of you, holding your wallet and his Frappuccino. He spots the blonde mop of head you’re staring at, really you should chill out (he thinks), and immediately recognizes his features as Miya Atsumu, the same guy who’s been a part of your daily margarita selfie for the two months you were in the Philippines.

The bedhead watches you walk towards Atsumu, and he to you before you both met somewhat in the middle, then looks at you, finding himself smile because of how happy you looked. He stands in his spot and can’t help but feel some sort of déjà vu as he stops himself from approaching the two of you. His heart, he realizes, clenches in a way that sort of hurts but sort of doesn’t, but because this is the first time looking at you with a smile so unabashed, he settles with the thought that because he loves you—you deserve nothing short of the happiness you’re feeling now.

And you can’t help but feel the same as Atsumu laughs out a comment about how the universe must really want the two of you together. His arms circle your figure after exchanging a few pleasantries and inside jokes and you smile into the crook of his neck.

“This feels a little like that déjà vu thing ya talked about before, ya know.” He mumbles. And for the brief moment you see Tetsurou’s text on the screen of your phone reading, “whipped.”, you laugh in a way that has you feeling dizzy and light. You feel like you could cry when Atsumu kisses the side of your head, because this moment feels so familiar.

Atsumu feels so familiar. So when you break the embrace and look at the reflection of your watering eyes in the warm pools of his, more than ever, you were sure that this is exactly where the gods meant for you to be.

-

a/n: *i’m aware there’s no direct flight from haneda/siargao but pls bear w me ;A;

proceed to Epilogue :D

[mamabearcatfanfics]

Second chapter up now on AO3, or read on below!

“Pizza delivery for one Kagome Higurashi!” The bright grin on the wolf demon’s face immediately fell when he saw who opened the door. “Oh, it’s you mutt. Ain’t you got a home of your own to go to? Or is the salary Myouga the flea’s paying you so miniscule that you’ve been reduced to couch surfing?” He chuckled at his own joke. Inuyasha did not join in.

“Hand over the pizza and fuck off”, he said pleasantly, holding out one clawed hand expectantly.

“I didn’t see your name on the delivery order”, said Kouga, making a show of checking the receipt then trying to peer into the apartment behind Inuyasha’s broad shoulders. “Nope, no mention of a mutt named Inuyasha. Only Kagome. For all I know, you’re a freeloader trying to steal Kagome’s hard earned dinner.”

“Yeah, she’s eatin’ three pizzas and a serve of garlic knots all by herself. Even though she’s the size of a wet kitten. Hand it over wolf.”

The stalemate continued, Inuyasha continuing to block Kouga’s view, and Kouga refusing to hand over the pizzas. Finally Inuyasha rolled his eyes and hollered for Kagome, who appeared in a pair of soft blue flannelette pyjamas and fluffy slippers, drying her damp hair with a towel.

“Oh wow Kouga, that was really fast! I didn’t expect you to deliver it in person!” she said, her blue eyes lighting up at the stack of cardboard pizza boxes he was carrying.

“You’re my favourite customer Kagome – I’m always going to deliver your pizza in person.” Kagome laughed a little uncomfortably.

“Aw, that’s sweet. Um, let me just get my wallet so I can give you a tip.”

“I’ll give him a tip”, Inuyasha grumbled, stepping aside so Kagome could pay Kouga. “You should wash behind your ears more often wolf, you stink.”

“Inuyasha!”

Kagome’s elbow caught him in the ribs, making him grunt. She pulled out a crisp ten dollar note to pass to Kouga and squeaked in surprise when his much larger hand wrapped around hers.

“Forget the tip. I’m finishing up work in an hour or so. How about I come back and take you out for a drink?”

Kagome smiled kindly at him, valiantly trying to tug her hand free, and failing dismally.

“Ah, um, Kouga, that’s very kind and thanks for the offer, but as you can see” she said, glancing down at her pyjamas and slippers, “I’m not going anywhere else tonight. I know it’s Friday, but it’s been a tough week at work. All I want to do is sit on the sofa, eat my pizza and just relax.”

“So, tomorrow then?” Kagome’s smile slipped a little, and she did her best to ignore the rumbling growl beginning from her inuhanyou friend looming protectively behind her.

“Um, I have plans. For the entire weekend”, she added quickly when it looked like Kouga was going to inquire about Sunday. Kouga sighed in obvious disappointment and then placed a lingering kiss on Kagome’s knuckles, before taking the money out of her hand and handing over the pizzas.

“Another time then mon chéri. Enjoy your meal!” Inuyasha slammed the door on him.

“What did I say to you about encouraging him?!” grumbled Inuyasha, taking the pizzas out of her hands and carrying them over to the coffee table. He dropped himself onto the sofa and flipped back the lid of the first one, making a disgusted face. “Yuck. Mushrooms. This one’s yours.”

“It wouldn’t kill you to eat a vegetable occasionally you know”, said Kagome, sitting down next to him, continuing to dry her hair. “And in what way was I encouraging Kouga? I told him no. I tell him no every time he asks.”

“That was a no?” he snorted. “You called him sweet and batted your eyelashes at ‘im. He’s gonna take that as a yes.” He flipped open another pizza box and breathed in the fragrant smell of pepperoni and cheese. “Kouga’s a wolf youkai Kagome. You need to be firm with him, or he’s gonna walk all over you. Say somethin’ more like ‘stop asking me out, because I wouldn’t date you if you were the last demon on Earth’. That should do for starters. And if that doesn’t work, lemme punch him a coupla times. Or at least start orderin’ pizza from somewhere else.”

“But that’s so mean!” said Kagome in an aghast voice. “Kouga is actually a nice guy! When I first moved in here, he told me where all the good coffee places were. Besides, his pizza shop is in the bottom of the building, I’m not going to order from anywhere else!” She hung her towel over the back of the sofa, now her hair was as dry as it was going to get. “He means well, he just comes on a little strong sometimes. And I’m not going to let you punch anyone!” Inuyasha rolled his eyes.

“Whoops Kittycat, your small town roots are showin’ again.”

“Hey! I don’t want to hurt his feelings, and that’s because I’m a nice person, not because of where I grew up!” she said, punching him as hard as she could on his bicep. Inuyasha barely moved, but looked at her pointedly.

“Nice, huh?” She crossed her arms and huffed at him and he sniggered. “What’s the current population of Wrightwood Kagome? I bet it ain’t even 5000, am I right?” He grinned at her when she rolled her eyes. “That’s what I thought.”

“I did live in San Diego for six months before I moved here”, she pointed out primly, reaching for a garlic knot. Inuyasha snorted, then folded his slice of pepperoni pizza in half and took a huge bite.

“Ah, that hits the spot”, he said indistinctly around his mouthful. “He may be a stinky wolf bastard, but he knows how to make a good pizza.” He wound a piece of stretched out mozzarella around his finger and slurped it into his mouth.

“Charming.”

“Hey, I’m all charm.” Kagome rolled her eyes, reaching for her own slice, then let her hand drop with a sigh.

Inuyasha glanced up, trying to read her scent. She was a lot calmer now, after her shower. A good thing too. For some reason, Kagome feeling upset made him twitchy, like he needed to do something to fix whatever had caused it. He supposed it was her size and personality. She was so little and so nice – it was no wonder he felt protective of her.

The four of them had settled into a regular routine in the three months she’d been living with Sango. Beer and chili dogs on Friday nights. Occasional trivia nights, with a stroll to the best pretzel cart in Queens on the way home. Regular card games at Miroku’s. She’d fit into their little friendship group like she’d always been there. And with Sango and Miroku’s current ‘friends with benefits’ arrangement, he and Kagome were left to hang out together more often than not, which was fine by him. At least he wasn’t playing third wheel anymore.

She was cute and funny, easy on the eye. Kind, with an infectious smile and bright blue eyes. But surprisingly, also kinda sarcastic, which made him laugh. And she’d stood up for him when someone had said something with a racist undertone while they were out at the pub. He’d grown a thick skin over the years, and was so used to tuning it out, he’d hardly even noticed it. But Kagome had, and she was a sight to behold. A tiny spitting ball of fury. He’d had to carry her bodily out of the bar, needing to remove her from the situation before her comments started an all out brawl.

“Inuyasha? Um, thanks again for walking home with me tonight”, she said softly. “You really didn’t have to.”

“Sure I did”, he answered, bumping against her shoulder. “If some creepy bastard’s following you, calling me is the first thing you should do.”

“So I should always call you? Not Miroku?” she teased.

“What’s he gonna do? Put the moves on them by flooring them with his boyish charm? Flirt them into submission?”. Kagome giggled, then sighed.

“I don’t know that he was following me, really. But he kept up with me, even when I walked faster, and I just got that feeling, y’know? That something bad was going to happen.”

Inuyasha nodded. Her voice on the other end of the phone as he’d answered had been a dead give away.

He hadn’t been expecting to hear from her tonight  – Sango was visiting her brother and was away for the weekend, and Kagome had been working late nights all week, so she’d texted him and Miroku and cancelled their usual Friday night drinks. Miroku had opted out also, and he’d been sitting on his sofa with a beer, watching Netflix, and scrolling through his Facebook feed, phone in his hand. And then she’d called.

 “Hey Inuyasha?” There was an edge to her voice he didn’t like. She sounded panicked.

 “Kagome? What’s up?”

 She was panting a little now, and he could hear her hurried footsteps on the pavement, and the jingling of keys, which meant she was probably carrying them in her hand. Kagome never did that, because she had them on a long lanyard secured to the buckle on her bag strap so she could always find them easily. He knew from Sango that was something girls were taught to do if they were feeling threatened.

 “Sorry, I’m going to be a little late!” He sat up straight on the sofa, ears alert as he looked around for his wallet and keys, then shoved them in his pockets. Something was definitely up.

 “Is everything okay? You said you were goin’ straight home tonight after work.”

 “Yeah, I got held up at the office, and then missed my train. But I’m almost at Veteran’s Park, the one near Jackson Mill Road, so I should be there pretty soon.”

 “Kagome… is someone followin’ you?”

 “Uh huh!” He could tell she was aiming for a bright happy tone, but was failing miserably. Shit. The thought of anyone mugging her or worse made his gut twist.

 “Keep talkin’ to me”, he said firmly, shrugging on his jacket and shoving his feet into his work boots. “I’ll be right there. Keep walkin’ and stay under the streetlights okay? Try and move towards people if you can. I’ll find you.”

 “Sure thing! I’m really looking forward to seeing you!”

 “I’m headin’ out the door, I should be there five minutes, tops.”

 He’d sprinted, keeping his mobile on speaker so he could hear her talking aimlessly about random stuff, the tone of her voice getting more and more nervous. He caused a few angry yells as he dashed past people, but he didn’t care. Kagome was his friend, and she needed him. He slowed his pace to a slow jog as he rounded the corner to the park, easily locating her by scent. She was terrified. He’d walked straight up to her and embraced her in a tight hug. He could hear her heart hammering in her chest, her hands shaking as she wrapped them around his waist.

 “Inuyasha…”

 Inuyasha could smell the bastard, loitering in the background, the stink of the other man’s lust making him want to hurl. He glared in the direction the scent was coming from, pushing back a snarl. He could go after him, confront him, but he didn’t want to scare Kagome any more than she already was, so he put his arm around her shoulders, leading her away. But he knew that guy's scent now. And if they should happen to cross paths again, it wouldn’t be his fault if the fucker tripped and fell directly into his fist.

 “Nice to see you Kittycat. Thanks for callin’ me to tell me you were going to be late. I appreciate it.”

 She’d pressed herself into his side, still shaking, and he’d done everything he could to soothe her during the ten minute walk back to her apartment. Making jokes, asking about her work, inviting himself to dinner, because he could tell she was still feeling nervous. He was so glad that she’d called him, and more than a little flattered.

“I’ll always come when you call. What are friends for right? Besides, you bought me pizza. That’s more than enough payment for jogging a coupla blocks and walking back to your place.”

“You probably think I’m ridiculous”, she sighed. “He probably wasn’t following me at all. I think it’s just because it was so much later than I usually walk back from the station, and it’s the first night I’ve been here alone, with Sango visiting her family.”

Inuyasha thought for a moment about confirming her suspicion that she was being followed. But he didn’t want to frighten her even more. Part of Kagome’s charm was her openness, her excitement about finally living her dream here in NYC. He didn’t want to spoil that for her. But unfortunately, part of living in a city was learning to move about it safely, and being more aware of your surroundings. Because there were always random assholes who wanted to take what you had. He could help her with that.

“If you’re ever late again like that, call me. I’ll be happy to walk with you from the station, even if I’m workin’. Myouga wouldn’t care if I had to leave the shop for a while to walk with you – he thinks the sun shines out of your cute little ass. And ya know, if you’re still feeling worried, I can sleep here on the couch.”

“Inuyasha, I can’t ask you to do that!” Kagome said, glancing down at his long legs and then the length of the sofa, one Sango had purchased from Ikea. “You’re way too tall, your back would be wrecked by morning. I will be fine, I promise!”

He studied her closely. Her words said she was fine, but her scent, and her expression, said she wanted him to stay. He could do that for her. It wasn’t like he had any other plans on a Friday night. Besides, if he left now, he’d just be worried about her, wondering if she was sleeping or not.

He made a show of stretching himself out, twisting around to throw his legs up on the sofa and crossing his ankles in her lap, then reached for another piece of pizza.

“Ooh, yeah, this sofa is pretty comfy. I don’t think I could be bothered to go home now. Besides, you can make me breakfast. I happen to know you’ve got bacon in the freezer.”

Kagome sighed. “You’re still eating dinner and you’re already thinking about breakfast?”

“Bacon is a serious business Kagome.”

Kagome leaned forward over his legs to grab herself a slice of pizza, which flopped downwards, losing a good portion of the topping as it slid off onto the cardboard box below it. He laughed at the pout on her face.

“Okay, you should know this if you’re gonna be a full time resident of NYC. You gotta fold your pizza. Like this, see?” he said, reaching for another slice for himself and folding it in half lengthwise. He took a big bite. “You get twice as much in a mouthful, and the topping don’t slide off.”

“You should open your mouth a little more when you chew dog boy, I didn’t get to see everything in there that time.”

“You think you’re funny don’tcha?” he smiled. The nervousness in her had settled, and she was back to her normal self. Everything was okay now.

“Yeah, I do actually.” She patted him on his ankle absentmindedly as she reached for another garlic knot. “You’re a good friend Inu.”

“Right back atcha, Kittycat.”

[mf-despair-queen]

Never Give Up - Lee Taeyong

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Pairing: Lee Taeyong/Reader

Word Count: 20,984

Summary: When Y/N joins SM Entertainment as a trainee, she didn’t think she would make it. Nor did she think Lee Taeyong from NCT would be assisting in training her class. But most of all, she didn’t think that he would step up to help her achieve her dream. 

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Unprotected Sex, Oral, Shower Stuff, kinda sweet stuff all around because Taeyong is just a caring baby?

Notes: Only like... 3 months in the making. But I hold this fic very close to my heart because Taeyong’s story of becoming an idol is very precious to me. And just as an overall person, he’s very inspiring to me. I wanted to represent that side of him, not giving up when you have a dream and a goal, to be the best you can be and not let anything bring you down. 

Happy chatter filled the room, the voices echoing off the walls and mirrors located all around. Each small group stretched together, joyously preparing for the first day as a trainee. Some showed off their moves at each other while others just kept a pleasant conversation to pass the time.

And here you were, sat alone in the corner. Our fingers tapped anxiously while reaching for your foot extended in front of you, feeling the muscles in your back stretching out and loosening. Sweat was leaking from your pores, keeping your skin moist and uncomfortable despite the lack of dancing you had actually done. 

When the door opened, everyone instantly stood at attention, including yourself whom scrambled up to stand at attention. Lines had formed, each trainee stood one by one as the instructor waltzed in, eyes glowering slightly as he scanned the crowd.

“Good morning, sir,” the trainee group said in unison with a bow, the teacher nodding in approval.

“Good morning,” he said, voice slightly gruff and deep, throwing you off for a moment. The instructor placed his stuff aside - a notebook and pen combo, water bottle, and towel - before turning to face everyone. “My name is Kim Jihun and I will be your dancer teacher. And may I start by saying congratulations on being admitted to be a trainee of SM Entertainment.”

The girls around you clapped happily, smiles on their faces. Your hands were slow to come together, your nerves on edge. His words seemed to haunt you, sending a shiver up your spine. You were questioning why you even showed up to the audition in the first place. You weren’t expecting to get through when they approached you on the street, telling you that they were looking for potential recruits. 

You weren’t anything special in your mind. Sure, you loved to dance and sing in your free time, but compared to the people around you, you were miniscule. You wanted nothing more than to shrink into the background and disappear, running from the room and never returning.

“Let me warn you that this will not be an easy course,” his words filled the room, making you snap back to attention. Jihun walked back and forth in front of the group, speaking slowly and intently. “SM Entertainment has very high standards for its artists and you are expected to work hard to achieve that. Fail, and you be let go. Succeed, and you will be trained until you are ready to debut.”

You swallowed thickly, eyes falling to the ground before you. You toe dug into the shiny hardwood floor, afraid to look up. You knew that the look in the mirror would show just how stressed you were while everyone else looked determined to do well. Your hands rung around the bottom of your shirt, wrinkling the loose material in the tight grip. Your fingers twisted around the material, disappearing into the white fabric.

“But, don’t let that discourage you. Everyone here is at a different level, but you can’t let your inexperience stop you. I’ve had trainees in the past that have come in and I thought they would amount to nothing. I figured they would not make it to be an idol. But I was wrong. Through hard work and determination, he was able to overcome those challenges and become the leader dancer of her group. He is the epitome of the term “never give up on your dreams” and I want you all to remember that.

“I want you to remember that because he will be training you as well for the next few months. His group is on hiatus for the time being after having finished their recent promotions and he expressed an interest in helping train for once. So, don’t think he needs any further introduction. Please welcome Lee Taeyong from NCT.”

Your heart stopped when you watched him open the door carefully, a nervous smile on his gorgeous face. It made his soft cheeks uplift, contrasting against his sharp jaw. He uttered over a dozen hellos as he entered, bowing continuously in his normal polite manner, hands clasped together in front of him with every bend of his back and step of his feet. Each bow made his bright blue hair bounce around, falling to rest against his forehead when he stood straight. His brown eyes twinkled in the lights of the practice room, the glimmer they shone making your heart race. His large hands rubbed together as he took his place next to your instructor, trailing his eyes over the crowd. It felt like his eyes lingered longer on you, his smile curling further. The male idol was wearing a simple pair of black skinny jeans and a loose white shirt that said “Rare”, black shoes adorning his feet.

You let out a shaky breath, unable to believe that Lee Taeyong was standing in front of you. You had watched the man grow and succeed since his days as an SM Rookie, He was one of the reasons you enjoyed dance as much as you did. Seeing the way he moved, the joy it brought - you couldn’t help but move yourself. You aspired to be as good as him, sadly accepting that you never would be. He was a god among men, and you could only wish that you could be on his level one day.

Now, he stood before you in the flesh, ready to help you learn and improve. If you weren’t nervous before, you would be now. Too bad you were already sweating bullets before he walked in. Your face felt hot and you were ready to pass out. From across the room, you could feel his presence. HIs aura was intimidating, even though the face he gave the crowd was soft and he bounced between his feet anxiously. His hands rung together, picking at his nails slightly, but he stood proud. 

“Hello,” he greeted officially. Your heart thundered heavily at the sound of his sultry voice. It was deep and smooth, a husky undertone that you were familiar with from his fabulous rapping skills. His infectious smile made you crack a small one of your own, feeling your cheeks light up with a bright burn. 

“My name is Lee Taeyong, leader of NCT. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He finished his greeting with a bow, you and the others following his gesture. When he stood up, he ran a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead while speaking. “I’m really looking forward to helping train you guys for a while. I remember my days as a trainee and how nerve wracking it can be, so I hope that I can help you guys grow and improve like I was able to.”

“I will leave this to you, Taeyong,” Jihun told the idol leader, who nodded in return. Jihun took a seat in a chair to the side, his notepad and pen in hand. His dark eyes stared daggers through the room, ready to assess your first day.

Taeyong made his way to the front of the room, everyone turning to face the mirrors and rearranging themselves to a more comfortable location to begin the lesson. You slid to the back of the group, hiding yourself from the mirror as much as possible in the small group of people. Taeyong slid a black headband on his head to keep his hair back, turning to stare at himself - and your group behind him - in the mirrors.

“Alright. We’ll begin by teaching you the moves to this choreography that I helped to create. It was something I dabbled in when we did the song So Am I with Ava Max, so I hope you all like it. We will start off slow and practice each section a few times, but it’ll be pretty quick to learn the entire piece. By the end of today, I want to test run this dance with the music.”

You dry swallowed, shaking slightly. It was time…

He wasn’t kidding when he said the learning curve was steep. The speed that you were intended to learn the choreography was fast paced, even with Taeyong’s slow and methodical teaching style. He showed each step multiple times, explaining thoroughly what he was doing and how your body should be moving with the movement. He allowed ample time for you to practice the movements before moving onto the next move, He would even sing his own rap part when he picked up the pace to show the entire section as it should be performed, your eyes wide in awe. Taeyong made the dance look simple. 

The steps themselves weren’t hard in reality, but you couldn’t help but wonder if you were doing it right. As pieces started to get linked together, more of the choreography coming together, you couldn’t help yourself from turning your eyes to those around you, trying to pick up on how they moved, imitating their postures and strides. The more parts that got added amplified the difficulty, aiding in your downfall, your progress slowing, stopping and receding. 

You were struggling to follow the full dance, resorting to following those around you in an attempt to complete the dance. You felt weak compared to them, lacking power and precision, your steps sloppy and uncoordinated. You were off beat, arms swinging slowly, body rolling with less exuberance than the other trainees. You were crying internally from the difficulty and underwhelming results.

Taeyong stopped everyone for a water break, readying the music. “One last run before we end for today. I know it’s been rough for the first day, but this dance course is no easy feat. We will do one run of the choreo with the music then you guys are free to head to your vocal class.”

A resounding grunt of acceptance was heard, but all you could do was puff out a sigh. You prayed that you could mimic those around you enough to get through the dance, all while hoping Taeyong’s eyes didn’t find you in the back of the crowd. When the music started, you struggled, just as you thought you would. Your eyes followed everyone else, a beat behind just like during the practice runs. You struggled your way through the dance, wishing with each passing second that it would be over. 

Taeyong’s dutiful eyes, a deep, chocolate color, scanned the crowd unknowing to the trainees as he danced, taking in every incorrect step, bent leg during a kick, and lackluster sway of the hips. But, amongst all the trainees, he couldn’t stop his eyes from being drawn to you shielded in the back of the crowd. He pouted slightly to himself, fixated on the slow movements and turned head, pausing to get the steps of your colleagues.

His heart ached for you.

Taeyong uttered a thank you to the group once the song was over, everyone bowing before parting their ways to collect their belongings. Taeyong strode away to Jihun, the two muttering softly together, the dance instructor jotting things down as Taeyong talked. You let out a sigh, knowing that you had been caught red handed by the instructor. Soon, Taeyong would know as well. You were disheartened to know that you had failed your role model at his own choreography. Your feet, aching and sore, moved towards your bag, missing how Taeyong glanced your way, Jihun’s eyes following.

You collapsed to the ground, ignoring everyone around you grabbing their stuff and making their way to the door, the room growing quieter by the second. You pulled out your phone, frowning at the text you had received from your mother asking about how your first day went. She had always supported you, encouraging you to pursue this unrealistic dream - that was quickly transforming into a nightmare instead. You didn’t know how to tell her it didn’t go well. 

Yeah, the first day was horrible. That’s just what she’d want to hear.

“Excuse me,” you heard beside you. Your head whipped to the familiar, deeply pleasant voice of Lee Taeyong. The idol had removed his headband from his blue hair, allowing beads of sweat to drip along his facial features, running along his jawline. His dark eyes bore into your soul, his sweet smile making butterflies rage at you. “Sorry to disturb you. Your name is Y/N, correct?”

You blinked, unsure how he knew who you were. “Yeah…?” You placed your phone down, standing slowly. Your feet were yelling at you for doing so, but it didn’t feel right to sit while talking to him. You bowed at the young man, though he waved at you in dismissal. 

“No need for that. It’s fine,” he chuckled happily. “I just… want to talk to you really quick. If you have a moment.”

Your brow furrowed, opening your mouth to find no words escaping. Your throat felt dry, swallowing once before managing to get something said. “I mean… I have to get to my vocal training…”

“I will walk you there and explain the situation,” he offered. 

“A-alright,” you weakly muttered.

Taeyong gave a sad smile, licking his lips before speaking. “I just… I couldn’t help but notice you during the training.” Your heart plummeted. “You looked like you were really struggling.”

“I-I…” you started, fighting back tears. “I was, I guess…”

“No need to be sad!” he exclaimed quickly, biting at his lower lip. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you.”

“You wanted to talk to me because I suck horribly?” You uttered sarcastically, earning a chuckle from the man.

“Kind of, I guess,” he teased. You pouted. “I wanted to make you an offer actually.”

“Offer?”

“Yeah,” he cooed softly. His hand ran through his hair, cheeks puffing with a burst of air before continuing. “I wanted to see if you’d like some extra lessons. You know, with me?”

“What?” you asked without hesitation. Taeyong laughed, shaking his head. 

“I wanted to give you some extra dance lessons, just the two of us. That way we can focus on what you need more than the others. That way we can get you on a higher level than you are at now.”

You blinked at him, turning away slightly, avoiding his sharp gaze. “Why would you want to do that?” you whispered lowly.

“Because,” Taeyong spoke calmly. You turned to look back at him when he didn’t continue. His face was serious, but he smiled at you, stuffing his hands in his pockets. His foot kicked the wood floor aimlessly, digging the toe of his shoe into it. “I know what it’s like to be in your shoes. I know what it’s like to struggle and feel like you aren’t good enough. I know how it feels to think you aren’t cut out for this. 

“I was called a blank sheet when I was a trainee and I felt insulted. I felt like I was being told that I wasn’t good enough and I wouldn’t amount to anything. But I overcame that because I realized that as much of a blank sheet as I am, I could draw my own path on it. And I want you to be able to do the same. I was in the same boat as you once, standing at the back of the crowd, following everyone else. Now, I can stand on my own two feet. I want to help you do the same.”

You contemplated his words, never straying your eyes from him. Silence enveloped the room, apart from the steady breaths of the pair of you. Finally, you spoke up. “But why do you want to try so hard with me?”

Taeyong grinned, freeing a hand to ruffle his hair. “Because I can see the fire and desire in your eyes. This is what you love to do, and I want to make sure that you can enjoy every bit of it. I’m not going to give up on you because I want to see you overcome this and make it big one day.” He let out a heavy breath, licking his lips. “So, what do you say? You up for some extra dance practices?”

After a moment of hesitation, you nodded slowly. Taeyong’s face lit up, grinning widely. “Alright. I’d like the extra training if you’re willing to help. I… I don’t want to give up.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t let you,” he laughed. He grabbed his phone from his pocket, handing it to you. “Go ahead and put your number in. We can set up a secondary schedule around your vocal and dance practices. And we can use this room as our go to. Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” you told him, taking his phone and typing in the number. When you handed it back, contact name complete with a smiley face, your fingers brushed, making your skin tingle. Your cheeks lit up, backing away slightly to grab your stuff. “I appreciate the help, Taeyong. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Same here,” he grinned, leading you to the door after you gathered your belongings. “You’re going to do great, Y/N I just know it.”

~

“Ugh!” you huffed in exasperation. Killing the music on your phone, your hand a sweaty hand through your hair, pushing the loose strands away from your forehead in anger. You had stumbled again, much to your dismay. Despite the extra practice you were getting, and the additional coaching you had been gifted, you were still struggling, grasping everything too slow for your liking.

Training for Taeyong outside of the normal practice had been a blessing. You found yourself doing better, learning the dances more and more each time, but you still had difficulties during the classes themselves, finding yourself still following the others to move your feet and hands to the beat. You continued to stay to the back, even though Taeyong encouraged you to step forward more and show the skills he believed you had.

Speaking of Taeyong - you never realized just how caring the man was until you agreed to this ordeal. You found yourself getting daily text from him after having exchanged numbers to discuss your additional practice regimen, the older male never failing to give words of encouragement amongst his own busy schedule. The texts came without fail before every dance and vocal lesson that he wasn’t there for, using silly emojis, dancing gifs and memes he found online to keep your low spirits elevated as much as possible.

That was just one aspect of the sweet man. Once your private lessons began, you learned how patient he was with you. Seeing your struggles, he slowed down his own movements, taking more time to show you what to do and how to do it. He pointed out every detail you would need to know for the dance before stumbling over his own feet, ears turning red.

“I meant to do that,” he would claim, earning a laugh from you. Hear your laugh just made him smile.

Taeyong over the few weeks you had been a trainee, under his tender loving care as a mentor, became a close friend that you could confide in, no matter the time of day. During water breaks, you would find yourself talking about everything and nothing with the idol, both of you sharing every little fact you could with each other. At this point, it felt like Taeyong knew you better than you knew yourself, and vice versa. You learned many things about the humble young man, your heart thumping harder every day for him. Your adoration for him had grown the more you learned about him, every day getting better.

Until now.

Letting out a deep breath, you restarted the music, turning to face the mirror. As the beat began, your foot slid across the floor, toes pointed, and leg extended outward. Your arms raised, beginning to sway to the beat just as you had learned not even an hour before in your class. Your hips rounded, turning in circles to the thumping music. Your eyes closed to concentrate on what you were doing, counting the steps as you moved.

Your body stumbled when the chorus hit, feet tangling around each other when you went to take a step. You let out a loud grunt, feet stomping in annoyance. “Why can’t I get this right?” you exclaimed to no one in particular, venting the pent-up frustration you felt.

“You’re overthinking it.”

The words caught you off guard, your body whipping around to face the door, only stumbling to the side in the progress. Taeyong chuckled, pulling off the white hat he had on his head, placing the plastic bag in his hand against the wall. You pouted at his laughter, trudging over to pause the music. The idol ruffled his blue hair, taking a seat against the wall. Wordlessly, you joined at his side, taking the iced coffee he offered to you.

“Don’t laugh at me,” you scowled at him playfully. Taeyong smiled at your words.

“I’m not wrong though,” he stated firmly. “Also, sorry for startling you. That wasn’t my intention. And I’m sorry I was running late. I was finishing recording a new song.”

“I know. I got your text,” you teased. Taeyong made a sour face, sticking his tongue out. 

“And here I was nice and brought dinner because I was running late.”

“Depends what you brought,” you told him. Taeyong moved the bag in front of you, pulling out a platter of japchae, gimbap and mandu. You watched him eagerly open the japchae, snapping his chopsticks apart so he could take a mouthful of food. “How do you stay so skinny when you love food so much? Especially sweets. I’ve seen you eat nearly a dozen cupcakes before and you lost weight. I don’t get it.”

“Dancer metabolism,” he joked. 

“Don’t be mean,” you huffed, biting into a warm dumpling. “So, what did you mean?”

“Hm?” he hummed, tilting his head cutely. You shook off the adorable face, shoving his shoulder with yours instead. 

“You know,” you scolded. “When you walked in, you said that I was overthinking it. What did you mean?”

“Exactly what I said,” he pointed out. “You’ve gotten better, but I can see how you are still struggling. And I think you are trying too hard to do well at it now. Because you are so worried about doing well, worried about learning to choreography fast enough, and worried about not messing up, you’re pushing yourself too much. When you stress, you are bound to make more mistakes. When you worry, you’re more prone to mistakes. I would know. I did it a lot when I was a trainee.”

“Oh.”

Taeyong gave a small, lopsided smile. “Hey, it’s not a bad thing. It’s understandable and kind of to be expected. The stress that being a trainee for SM is insane sometimes and when you don’t believe you are doing enough, it hurts a bit.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I’m scared of the first evaluation next week.”

“Don’t be. Just do your best. That’s all you can do. Practice and do what you can. You can’t let yourself get down about this because you need to make your own path with this.”

“This coming from a blank slate?” you teased. 

Taeyong chuckled, nodding vigorously. “Absolutely. I was hard on myself all the time, YN,” he said, turning to look at you better. “I didn’t think I’d make it. But I never gave up because I love what I do. I love to dance. I love to rap. I love to sing. And even though I felt insulted, I turned that around. I decided that I would write my own story. And, I know you have that same drive.”

“How do you know?” you asked after a moment of hesitation, pulling your eyes away from the bowls in front of you to look into the dark eyes of the young man beside you. His lips upturned, showing his glistening white teeth.

“Because I can see how much you love to dance. I can see how much joy it brings. I can see the passion you have for it. And I want to see you succeed,” he told you. Learning back on his hands, Taeyong stared up at the ceiling for a moment. “Honestly, I can see how good you are too. Even though you take a bit to learn the moves, I can see how strong your movements really are. You follow others for the steps, but when you have them, you are the best at them. And, if you ask me, you stand out the most among the trainees.”

“Really?” you asked, shocked.

“Of course,” he chuckled. “If I’m being honest right now, you were the first one to draw my eye on day one. Not because you weren’t doing well. There is just something about you like I enjoy watching. And when you can get the dances, it’s even better. I can’t pull my eyes away because you have this… I guess you can call it beauty, to you that just makes me smile. I love watching you dance and enjoy yourself. And I can’t wait for others to see what I see.”

Your face burned with the blush that rose to your cheeks, curling your hands in your lap. “Thanks, Taeyong. That means a lot to me.”

“You don’t need to thank me. I’m only stating the truth,” he mused happily. Rising to his feet, his hand extended towards you. “Now, shall we get started so we can show the world one day what Y/N is capable of?”

“I guess,” you huffed, playfully reluctant. Your hand fit perfectly in his, allowing Taeyong to pull you to your feet. 

“No one overthinking your steps, right?”

“No guarantees.”

Taeyong pouted, moving over to your phone. He didn’t even have to ask, unlocking it with ease. “Fine. Be that way.” The music started, a smirk forming on his face as he leaned against the wall. “Show me what you got. Come on.”

Letting out a breath, you turned to start the dance, beginning strong. As the music progressed, your movements wavered, unsure if they were correct or not. Taeyong followed your form silently, not interrupting you as you went. You managed to complete the dance, not perfect by any means. The music trailed off, the final notes fading through the speakers. Your chest heaved with uneven breaths, turning to the idol for the judgement call.

“Not bad,” he called, taking slow steps forward. “Definitely better than you’ve done before. You’re getting a lot better, Y/N.”

“Are you sure?” you asked.

Taeyong chuckled, shaking his head. “Stop doubting yourself. You’re an amazing dancer, Y/N.”

“I guess…”

“You’re impossible,” he laughed. “Do me a favor. Show me beginning from verse two.”

With a confused look on your face, you did as he requested. Your foot and arm extended to the right, ready to bring your other arm around as you stepped. But Taeyong told you to stop, making your body freeze, tightening to hold the pose. He stepped closer to you, standing behind you. You could see him through the mirror, his gaze reflecting back on you.

“What are you doing?” you asked quietly.

Your already tense body from the stress and anxiety of training tightened more, your breathing shortening. His fingers danced their way up your arm, ghosting along your skin lightly, tickling you in the process, before taking your wrist in his hand, raising it slightly.

“Your stance is off,” he spoke lowly, words somewhat raspier than normal. “Your arm should be a bit higher here. And your leg should extend a bit more.” His foot nudged yours out, making you slide against the wood flooring. Luckily, his free hand was on your waist to keep you steady, his fingers pressed into bare skin from where your tank top had ridden up. 

You turned to look up at him, Taeyong glancing down at you. His hot breath could be felt against your skin, making you blush more. Slowly he dropped his hand, letting you hold the stiff position while he examined you. Slowly, he got you to start dancing again, following your movements on his own directly behind you. His movements were more fluid and cleaner than yours, but the entire time, Taeyong helped to guide you, never once hesitating in what he was doing. 

When you stopped, you turned to look at him, watching the young man silently run his fingers through the sky lit locks on his head, fluffing the strands inadvertently. “What are you thinking?” you voiced, watching him ponder. Taeyong tilted his head back and forth, cracking his neck as he did before speaking up.

“I think I know the issue.”

You snorted out a laugh. “Oh really? We’ve been are this for a few weeks now and you just now know what the issue is?”

“Yup,” he laughed, stepping behind you again. His hands found their place on your shoulders, turning you to the mirror. “You, my dear, are too tense.”

“Well, that’s a given,” you laughed. “I’m a bit stressed.”

“I don’t think it’s just that,” he said. “I think you are working too hard. I think you just need to relax a bit and just let go. Enjoy the music a bit more.”

“Enjoy the music?” you asked.

Taeyong nodded, moving over to connect his phone to the speaker. He flicked through his music playlist a bit before turning on some soothing, but fun, music, bouncing on the balls of his feet to the sound.

“Honestly, I find myself dancing the best when I can just relax and enjoy the music. I like to be able to feel the music and just move to it freely. It’s very calming and just helps me loosen up. But I think it helps me connect better to what I’m doing.” Taeyong started swaying to the music, beginning to freestyle to the song he put on. You watched in awe at his motions, the man smiling the entire time. “You should try it too, Y/N. Just freely dance and let yourself go to the music.”

“I don’t know…”

Taeyong huffed, not accepting your answer. His feet moved quickly, long strides drawing him closer to you. His hands took yours, pulling you closer to him, still within arm’s reach. “Come on. Just let yourself feel the music. Just have fun!”

He started swaying back and forth, your arms swinging with the motions. He made your body wiggle with his, neither of your actually dancing to the beat of the song. But, deep inside, it felt right just to do the silly dance with him, enjoying the music around you. There was not a care in the world for the next few minutes as your danced in crazy circles, arms waving in different directs, your body loosening up with the fun. 

Taeyong smiled down at you, tugging you closer until you were crashed against his body, hugging you closer. Your bodies moved from side to side in no real pattern, losing yourself to the soft music. 

“Ok, but, that worked,” you said, words muffled by his chest. It rose and fell with his laughter, making you giggle.

“I told you,” he teased. His arms never left your form, keeping you close to him. The music continued to play around you, smooth tunes filling the room that you natural moved to. “It’s calming. And it’s best to just feel the music inside you. When you can connect to it, you will be at your best. And your shoulders are significantly let tense. I can feel the knots you had before are almost gone already.”

“The power of music.”

“The power of dance.”

You glanced up at him, his gaze on you. His tongue poked out between his lips, licking them slowly. You followed the trail of the pink article tracing the plump, cupid shaped lips, biting at your own lip. The music seemed to get drowned out, everything disappearing around you.

“What’s going on in here?”

Your body separated quicker than lightning, pushing away from Taeyong instantly at the sound of the voice. You let out a low shriek, hand on your chest, stumbling into a wall to catch your breath. Taeyong just laughed, pausing his music.

When you glanced at the door, your eyes widened, seeing Lee Donghae and his wife in the doorway. You bowed at the senior idol, the male returning the gesture. Taeyong spoke up as he moved to your side.

“We were just dancing, hyung,” Taeyong told him. Donghae’s brow rose, a knowing smirk on his face. 

“Oh?”

“Ya!” Taeyong whined at the older idol. “We were! I’m helping her train! We weren’t doing anything besides dancing and enjoying the music! Right, Y/N?”

“Don’t drag me into this!” you yelled at Taeyong, learning a laugh from the two intruders. With another bow, you introduced yourself. “I’m sorry for being so disrespectful. My name is Y/N. I’m a trainee right now with SM.”

“Pleasure,” Donghae greeted. “I’m sure you know who I am. I’m Donghae from Super Junior. This is my wife, Nanda.”

“It’s great to meet you,” she hummed happily. 

“Likewise.”

“So, a trainee, eh?” Donghae laughed. You nodded at him. “You must be excited.”

“That’s one way of putting it.” Taeyong snickered at your comment. 

“Well, I take it that something is going on if you guys are hiding out and dancing all by yourselves,” Donghae teased. Taeyong’s cheeks flushed, swatting at his senior. 

“Hyung, stop!” Taeyong whined some more. “I agreed to help with some dance lessons because…” Taeyong paused, glancing at you. “She kind of reminds me of myself. I understood what she was going through and I want to see her do well because she’s very talented. So, I offered to help her learn.”

Donghae smiled at Taeyong words, nodding in acceptance before glancing at you. “Well, you are in good hands. This boy can really dance. And if he sees something in you, then you must be something special.”

Taeyong blushed harder. “Hyung”

While the two men bickered like children, though the senior was near a decade older, the senior idol’s wife tugged you aside. “He’s right though. Taeyong is a very talented young man, so you are in great hands.”

“Yeah,” you breathed. “I’m kind of lucky that he offered like this. It really has been helpful with these extra sessions. I feel like I’m not quite there yet, but I’m better.”

“Well, don’t give up at all. And whatever he tells you, don’t neglect the advice. He is one of the best people to know exactly how it feels to be in your shoes. I’m sure you will be on top of your group before you know it.”

“You have a lot of faith in me,” you laughed. Nanda smiled.

“I just know that Taeyong wouldn’t try this hard with just anyone. He sees something special in you, so I will be looking forward to when you are on stage with the others doing your own dances and songs. Just keep pushing till then. Keep practicing, keep training, and keep your head up. You got this.”

“Thanks,” you told her. Lowering your voice, you leaned closer to the female. “Not to be rude or anything, but are those two related at all?”

Nanda laughed, shaking her head. “Why do you ask?”

“I just…” you paused, staring at the two men with a furrowed brow. “How can two guys be so incredibly attractive?”

Nanda snorted with a laugh. “I think it’s that Lee name. There is something in the Lee family name that gives them good genes, I swear. They are insanely good looking.”

“That’s some good genes then,” you laughed back, your laughs joining in unison. 

The two men, hearing your laughter, glancing in your direction. Donghae made his way over, Taeyong on his heel, the older male taking his wife’s hand. “We should probably head out. The little one needs some sleep,” he said, patting Nanda’s protruding stomach. “We just heard the music and thought we’d stop in for a sec. It was a pleasure meeting you, Y/N.”

“It was my pleasure, sunbae.”

The man smiled, shaking his head. “Just Donghae, please.” 

“Alright… Donghae,” you uttered softly, a small smile gracing your cheeks. The older idol grinned, patting your head gently. 

“Stay strong, Y/N. Remember not to give up on your dreams, and I’m sure we’ll see you with us before you know it. And if you guys ever need a hand, you know who to call.”

“Eunhyuk?” Taeyong sassily sneered, jabbing Donghae in the ribs with his elbow. The look on Donghae’s face made Taeyong snicker, hearing the disgruntled huff he let out.

“Low blow, Yong. Low blow,” he joked, tugging his wife towards the door. “Don’t stay too late guys. You need rest too.”

“We know,” you both responded, waving off the couple. “Night guys.”

“Night!”

The door closed with a subtle click that echoed through the silent studio, ringing loudly off the walls and mirror. Taeyong let out a sigh, ruffling his bright blue locks before turning towards you. “So, shall we get back to practice?”

“Yeah…” you hummed, eyes locked momentarily on the door. Taeyong’s brow rose, but he didn’t question your odd behavior.

“Do you want to continue the dance from practice?”

The words from the couple sent tingles up your spine, a pit of warmth filling inside you. Their eager encouragement fanned the flame that Taeyong lit on that first day of practice, the candle burning brighter than ever before. A surge of confidence overwhelmed you. Wringing your hands together, fingers twisting around the bottom hem of your shirt. Drawing a lip between your teeth and turning to face the man, your gaze met his, a confident glint in your irises. 

“Actually,” you spoke up. Taeyong’s grin grew with the conviction in your voice, the strength you were suddenly portraying making his heart race, blood pumping rapidly. His dark eyes narrowed on you, nodding his head as encouragement to continue. “Can we… can we try something different?”

“Like what?” He pushed.

“How about… one of our group’s choreographies?”

Taeyong brow rose, but he smiled nonetheless. “Are you sure? We don’t exactly have easy dances.”

‘I’m sure,” you replied without hesitation. “I want to get better, Taeyong. And the only way to do that is to keep trying. To try new things, harder things. I want to master all I can and prove to everyone, and myself, that I’m cut out for this.” Pausing, you stepped closer to him, tilting your head up to look at him. Your hands took his, his returning the hold with a soft squeeze. “I will make you proud by taking the blank page of my life and drawing my own path.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” His fingers laced with yours, tugging you towards the stereo. “Now, what song would you say you fancy?”

Tapping your chin, you smiled cheekily. “How about a nice duo song. How about… Baby Don’t Stop?”

Taeyong chuckled, placing his phone down, selecting the song. “Perfect choice, milady.”

~

The surge of confidence that transpired thanks to the idol couple was let loose like a storm. Inspiration struck, and your skills grew stronger with each passing day. Taeyong noted how you grew stronger, more powerful, every time you danced together, praising you for your hard work and accomplishments. Your steps no longer felt sloppy, your body no longer felt sluggish. Every dance practice was better than the last, with movements becoming easier and quicker to learn - and master. 

The overwhelming confidence showed more during the actual lessons. With each passing week, you made your way closer to the front of the pack, no longer hidden in the back row. You managed to lead the others instead of following their motions, setting the bar for those around you. Your dance instructor even praised you for how far you were coming, patting you on the shoulder one day after a hard dance that you almost perfectly nailed. 

You were on cloud nine. Your dreams were becoming a reality and no longer felt like they were unreachable. They were within your grasp, your desire for the end product at your fingertips.

Lessons with Taeyong didn’t cease, even with how far you had come. On the contrary, they morphed into sessions to hone your creativity and enhance your abilities. Instead of repeating the days lessons, you would craft dances on your own, either freestyling to whatever random song Taeyong chose or developing a choreography with Taeyong’s help to improve the layout of the steps and flow of the body. 

Some days, you were dancing by yourself, putting the steps to the test while Taeyong happily filmed it, the two of you collapsing against a wall and munching on some snacks while watching the playback. Ideas bounced between the two of you on how to improve the dance until you were content with the outcome. Taeyong would share the final video with his children - well, his members - and each time, they were impressed with what you had come up with.

Other days, you would dance with Taeyong, twisting and turning to the same beat as the man you admired for so long. The gentle caress of his fingers running along your waist from where your shirt rode up when your arms rose. The warm, tingly sensation they left along your skin. The feeling of his body.pressed against yours as he held you close, your hips sway in unison. Your legs tangled but never causing you to falter as you spun across the hardwood floor. 

Every bit of dancing with him was memorable, and it only made your obviously feelings grow more until your heart was beating not from the intensity of the workout you were undergoing, but the pleasure he offered just by being by your side. 

Tonight was one of those nights. You found yourself in the studio late with him. Most of the staff and other idols had left, the clock nearly an ungodly hour. The sky outside was dark, dotted with stars and a crescent shaped moon hovering overhead, not a cloud in sight. But you didn’t care about the darkness. The lights overhead in the dance studio were more than enough to keep you awake, unaware of the minutes that ticked by while focusing on the duo dance with Taeyong you had begun crafting since the earlier parts of the evening.

Compared to other dances, it was more sensual to you. The song Taeyong put on was Say You Won’t Let Go from James Arthur, and it led to you being closer to him than any other dance. Taeyong propped up his phone to record your practice as you decided on moves, piecing them together until you had a section you were proud of.

The entirety of the song, you found yourself in his hold, allowing him to spin you around until you were pressed to his chest. Your feet would slide across the ground before separating from each other, dancing individually, but completely in unison. It always amazed you how he could get your steps to sync perfectly, each body roll to match in time. It made the image you were going for complete. There were lifts and hugs as he spun without issue on the balls of his feet, your heart pounding at your chest the entire time. You always held your breath when your feet left the ground, your arms sliding around his neck as you hugged him close you prayed he wouldn’t feel the thumps of your heart against his tone torso. You never failed to laugh when his hands would find your waist from behind lifting you for a walking motion through the air, enjoying the weightless moment of being in his hands.

The ending of the dance was an accident - but worked in your favor. You were going to turn off the camera after the air walk, Taeyong having slid to the ground in a very Regular-esque move, too flustered to continue. But he moved forward, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, face buried in the side of your head. Reacting on instinct, your hands moved up to clutch at his bare forearm, feeling the veins that ran along them from the extreme workout. Burying your face in his arms, you smiled, letting your eyes close. Taeyong, himself, couldn’t stop from smiling, inhaling your sweet scent.  

The second he saw that on camera, he knew that was how you had to end. Thus, every time you repeated the dance, wanting to perfect it, you wound up in his arms, uncaring about the heat of the room. His warmth was comforting, and you wouldn’t reject that, even if your heart thundered away inside you.

You were panting from the latest go, Taeyong stopping the music when you broke away from his hug. You grabbed your water bottle from your bag, pushing back the beet red blush along your cheeks as you sipped the cooling liquid. Your limbs were aching and your body was slick with sweat, clothes clinging to your frame. Your hair was knotted and messy from the thrills you had. 

Sparing a short glance at the blue-haired idol, he was in a similar state. Dark eyes were glued to his phone, probably watching the latest video, or checking his texts from his members. His loose black shirt was no longer that - it was clinging to his lean body, untucked and wet. When his hand unconsciously moved to ruffle his locks, he sticking shirt rose with his stretched skin, showing off bits of his toned stomach and scar on the right side of his abdomen. His boxers were peeking from his shorts, the dark bank contrasting the red athletic bottoms he had on. 

A low sigh left your lips. You couldn’t but to admire him. He was handsome after all; but your ever-growing affection stemmed from more than his looks. He was everything you wished for - and more. Staring at him became second nature because he was always on your mind. Your heart would beat unevenly with a single glance, a knot balling in your stomach from the rampaging butterflies you felt. Your cheeks heated once more, turning away before he caught you staring.

“Did you realize how late it is already?” he spoke. Light footfalls made their way over to you, the man snatching your water bottle from you. Your face lit up when you saw him take a sip, but you didn’t protest. 

“Is it?”

“Yeah. It’s nearly midnight,” he told you, showing his phone. He wasn’t lying; the white numbers read 11:37 PM. 

“Damn. I didn’t realize it was that late.”

“Yeah. Must have been too focused on this dance,” he snickered. “How early is your lesson tomorrow?”

“Not till ten luckily,” you told him, retrieving your water bottle and replacing it in your bag.

“So,” he began, pursing his lips. The evil grin you had come to know grew, the man leaning forward slightly. “We have time for one more run before we have to get going.”

Your eyebrow rose, but you giggled, nodding after a second. “Fine. One more run.”

The music began, your steps following the beat together. He held you close, the two of you sliding across the entire studio while the music flowed. A heat was radiating between you both that you hadn’t really noticed before, making it a bit hard to concentrate. However, in Taeyong’s arms, you felt like everything was effortless. The lifts, the kicks, the twirls - everything felt natural. 

When the final move came, you didn’t realize how unprepared for the hug you were. Something about it felt different, and yet, you found yourself sinking into his grasp. Neither of you cared about the sweat that coated your skin, or the way your bodies stuck together from the wet clothes. Neither of your cared when the music died away, the camera still rolling. Neither of you cared about the late time, or the exhausting that would soon hit.

In that moment, it was just about you and him. You and Taeyong. 

Turning slowly in his arms, your hands slid down neck to his shoulders, and finally finding home resting on his chest, feeling it rise and fall with heavy pants. He watched you silently, slightly parted pink lips gasping for air. You didn’t look up at him, keeping your eyes forward, memorizing the Adidas logo on his shirt. His hands sat comfortably on your hips, itching to move, fingers curling slightly against your skin. 

Slowly, one hand moved to push back a stray strand of hair that escaped the rat’s nest you called a ponytail. His fingers lingered, hesitating before tilting your head up to look at him Your eyes bore into his dark orbs, watching them glisten and twinkle. The heat around you intensified, but it was nothing compared to the blush that warmed your face when his fingers caressed your cheek softly. The touch singed you, the skin tingling violently from the simplest graze.

His eyes darted in different directions for a moment before he finally leaned down, connecting his lips to yours in a soft, sweet kiss. His eyes closed, yours shortly following from the eruption of pleasure you felt. The kiss was gentle, almost as if it wasn’t real. The connection was short, leaving you with a prickling sensation along your lips. Your lips rubbed together, wanting to confirm if that was real or not. 

He tasted like cherries.

His eyes cracked open to look down at you, finding your lips puckered slightly, eyes still closed. Seeing that, he couldn’t stop himself. The hand on your waist gripped tighter. The hand on your face got a better grasp, thumb smoothing across your cheek while the rest tangling in your messy locks. He leaned back down, more pressure into the kiss this time. His head tilted, hadn’t stopped rolling, meshing his lips perfectly with yours. 

And honestly, truly, you didn’t want to stop him. Your hands curled into his shirt, pushing up on your toes to return the kiss that you were hungry for. Your bodies pushed closer together, the world around you ceasing to exist in that moment. It was just about you and him.

You and Taeyong. Kissing each other like you were made for each other.

The camera hadn’t stopped rolling, something Taeyong would be grateful for later as he relived the moment the rest of the night, a pale pink blush on his face.

~

Taeyong frowned to himself, nibbling at his thumb nail anxiously. His eyes were glued to your form, not hesitating in his multiple notes of sluggishness and sloppiness. Rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, he could only ponder why you had a sudden one-eighty before him. All the progress you had seemed to be dumped unremorsefully into the garbage, forgotten and abandoned with ease. The intimate dance the night before seemed like it never happened, though in his heart, he couldn’t forget the memory he held from it.

He was forced to watch your once dominant presence recede to the background once more. Your powerful stance was lackluster, and your willful eyes were dull. You followed others almost lazily, unable to keep up with the same choreography you had easily master days prior. His heart wrenched solemnly at the sight, gritting his teeth against his nail and squeezing his eyes shut unhappily. 

It felt like day one all over again took form. 

He hated that.

Once the music ended, all the trainees, including yourself, were hunched over, panting and sweating profusely. You ignored the tingle that came from Taeyong’s piercing gaze, knowing his eyes were locked on you. Pulling your lower lip between your teeth, your head fell further than before, tears welling in your orbs and clouding your vision. 

You couldn’t deny that you were disappointed in yourself with your performance, but your body was incapable of performing at its peak. The nagging voice in the back of your head kept echoing through your mind, the doubts you were used to having resurfacing at an amplified rate. Random cases of insecurity, seemingly unrelated to your current predicament, snuck in as well, aiding to your rapid descent to your day one trainee days. 

“Alright, let’s call it a day everyone,” Jihun called, gathering his belongings. “It’s already getting late out, and I’d like to make sure you all can get back to your dorms safely. Thank you for a wonderful class today.”

“Thank you,” everyone repeated in unison, your voice quieter than the others around you. The group began to separate, picking up their belongings while conversing with their friends. With a heavy sigh, you trudged over to your bag, white knuckling the strap. You were ready to run away, locking yourself in your dorm so you could wallow in peace.

“Do you have a sec?” 

Your eyes darted to the sorrowful brown ones of Taeyong. His hands were tucked in the pockets of his tight black jeans hiding the evidence of his anxious gnawing on his pristine nails. The toe of his Nikes was dug into the hardwood dance floor. Slowly, you nodded in response, Taeyong’s frown deepening at your silence. 

Once the last person left, Taeyong’s gaze narrowed on you. A shaky breath left his pink lips, voicing the thoughts that had plagued him since the music started. “What’s going on with you today?”

“Taeyong, I…”

The idol pouted at your weak voice. “I’m sorry,” he quickly apologized. “I’m just really confused, Y/N. You were doing so well. You showing everyone just how good you really are. All this confidence you had, being in the front during practice and learning the choreographies quickly and precisely, seems to have vanished. Everything that I’ve seen you do is gone and it’s like you are back at day one.”

“Tae-”

“I just want to know what’s going on,” he whispered. “What happened for you to suddenly regress to this stage? What happened for you to lose everything you had worked on?”

“Taeyong, I just…”

His head tilted, eying you quietly. He noticed the way your cheeks reddened and you avoided looking at him. It clicked in the idol’s head. Hesitantly, he pulled his hands from his pockets, wiping them free of sweat before taking your softly. His grasp was warm, giving a reassuring squeeze. The idol tugged you forward, closing the gap between you both. Glancing up, you met his stare and gentle, yet somewhat sorrowful, smile.

“Is it because of me?” he uttered softly. “Am I making you nervous?”

Silence.

“Is this… because of last night?” he asked again. 

Silence.

“Is this because I kissed you?”

You blinked back tears, letting a shaky breath out. “I-I’m just nervous, I guess,” You told him. “Last night was amazing but… I can’t help but ask myself why. I wonder why me and I can’t help but to feel like I’m not good enough. You are just an amazing idol and I’m just me. I’m this pathetic trainee. I felt myself getting nervous and scared, and I just didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to think or to act, and I guess it got inside my head. I couldn’t remember anything from the second I walked in, despite all our practice, and I just felt shy in front of everyone again knowing they would judge me for this. I guess… I just lost confidence in myself.”

“Y/N, you're not pathetic at all. You know that. But, why didn’t you just say something? You know you can tell me anything” he asked with a light chuckle.

“Because I’m nervous,” you admitted.

“So am I. But I can tell you this flat out,” he hummed. “I wouldn’t have kissed you if I wasn’t sure that I liked you. I like you a hell of a lot, Y/N. You are talented, funny, smart, beautiful. I love being around you. I’ve never felt so connected to someone before, but with you, it’s easy because I see so much of myself in you. It’s so easy to be with you because you put me at ease with myself. I want to spend every waking second I can with you, seeing you succeed by my side. And honestly, all I want to do is kiss you again.”

 “You like me?” you asked. 

Taeyong laughed, pulling you into him. Arms wrapped around you, hugging you to his chest. “You have no idea,” he let out. “I like you so much and I don’t want to see you lose yourself to your nerves. I want to see you succeed and I want to be by your side when that happens.”

“So, what are you saying?” you asked, an embarrassed smile grow to match your flushed cheeks. 

“What I’m saying is that I want to be with you,” he hummed, “Because I wouldn’t have kissed you last night if I wasn’t sure that I completely and utterly had fallen for you.”

“Tae-”

“But I will only accept you as my girlfriend on one condition.”

“Oh?”

Taeyong smiled, leaning down until his lips were nearly upon yours. Your skin tingled from the ghostly touches. “You won’t let your nerves get to you like this again. I’m sorry I made you nervous and doubt yourself, but I don’t regret kissing you. I want you to promise me that you won’t give up, you won’t let your stinking nerves overwhelm you again, you will be number one and you will debut as an idol someday so we can perform together in front of our fans. I want to be able to sing and dance with you in front of everyone so they can see just how amazing I know you are. Deal?”

“Just kiss me, you fool.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He knew your answer the second you demanded his lips to press against yours perfectly, your bodies pressing even closer than before. His foot snaked between yours, leg sliding between yours to sit comfortably. His arms hung from your waist while yours encircled his neck, your heads tilting in opposite directions. An exhale of relief made your nose flare, but that didn’t stop the passionate kiss between you. 

You mind buzzed the rest of the night. Hand in hand, you walked to Lee Soo Man’s office to tell him the news, agreeing to keep your relationship strictly private to avoid any scandals. Neither of you minded, wanting to avoid the news as much as possible. It meant more than you were allowed to date such an amazing idol - a man you and idolized for so long for his unique talents. 

Sending him a sideways glance as you walked down the hall, hands clasped together, you set forth your own conviction. Giving his larger hand a firm, loving squeeze, you smiled to yourself.

I will never give up on this dream. I won’t let you down, Taeyong.

~

He didn’t realize how fast his feet were carrying him down the nearly empty hallway the second he told the rest of his members that practice was finished. He didn’t stick around long enough to hear their cheers, nor their snickers at his overwhelming exuberance. The male idol had checked his phone briefly between songs, the water he was about to sip to wet his parched throat forgotten. 

Come to the normal practice room when you are done with the members. I want to see you, and I have something important to tell you.

His grin broke out, dropping his phone in his bag and zipping it shut. With a short call to the others, he was out the door, making a quick detour to the cafe before heading to his practice place - your practice room. The halls were nearly barren aside from some trainees headed back from their vocal lessons and some idols idly headed towards the exit to head back to their dorm. 

Taeyong knew the sky outside was pitch black aside from the lights of Seoul twinkling light stars. Practice had started later than usual because he had other matters to handle before calling the rest of 127 to their normal studio to do their normal routine in preparation for their upcoming performances and company activities. Better to start early than later, he always told them. The plan was to stay as long as their bodies would allow.

But, duty called. The others knew that from the bright shine in his dark orbs.

With two iced coffees in hand, he was pushing his way into the practice room, pausing to close the door quietly behind him with his foot. The straw for his coffee rested between his lips, the man sipping at it quietly while keeping his eyes trained on you. You were occupied when he entered, soft music playing through the speakers as you danced strongly. 

It felt like an eternity since he had seen you dancing, despite the amount of time you spent together due to your strong relationship. Since starting back up with group activity, his time with your class had petered off. When the day came that he said he would no longer be joining for dance lessons, it was a solemn goodbye from the trainees, each one thanking him for his time, expertise, knowledge and sharing his experiences in hopes that they would one day, too, make it as he had. You had given him the longest, most heartfelt hug, his hand running along your back before he whispered cheekily that he would see you that night for dinner at the dorm. 

He hadn’t really seen you dancing since that day. Your time together was more relaxed, spent cuddled together on the couch or in bed, watching silly shows, listening to music, or just doing your own things - Taeyong writing lyrics or planning choreographies while you prepared for upcoming lessons and evaluations. Occasionally, you would play games together in his dorm room, his solo dorm a blessing for times like that. 

And… other things too, of course. 

He felt a smile grow on his cheeks as he watched your smooth but powerful movements. His heart was racing. He always knew you were talented, but in the time apart, he was happily surprised at how much you improved. Your steps were firm, sliding across the polished hardwood without difficulty. Your arms extended into perfect lines. Your pirouettes rivaled those of the best dancers in SM that had trained in ballet, stopping on a dime without even the slightest wobble. Sweat made your face glisten, the man’s heart beating faster and a hot blush residing on his cheeks, running down his sharp jawline to his neck. 

You didn’t notice him until you caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. Tumbling to the side with a yelp, Taeyong let out a hearty chuckle, moving to place the drinks he brought down, sliding his bag to the floor next to yours. Unlocking your phone, he stopped the music, the noise in the room replaced with your quiet grumbles. 

“You know better than to sneak up on me,” you huffed angrily, grabbing the coffee he held out for you.

“Didn’t mean to, baby.”

You snorted at him, shaking your head with a ghost of a smile. “I know,” you let out. “I didn’t expect you to get here so fast. You said you guys were practicing late so I figured I had some time to work on this choreography I’ve been thinking of.”

“You designed that?” he questioned, shock on his face.

“Yeah. Was it bad?” you asked, pouting. 

Taeyong grinned, grabbing the towel from your bag. Running the towel along your skin, he dried off the sweat that dripped along your face and neck. You giggled when he pat your chest dry as well, red cheeks from the sight of your sports bra clad features. When he dropped it back to your bag, his hands immediately turned to cup your cheeks, pulling you into a tender kiss. 

“It was beautiful and I’m so proud of you,” he murmured. 

“You’re too sweet, Yongie,” you cooed, placing your lips on his again in a brief connection. 

“Only to you.”

“That’s a lie.”

Taeyong huffed, pulling you close by the waist. You both swayed silently for a moment until he broke the noiseless minute. “So, what did you need to tell me? You said it was important. Is everything alright, babe?”

You happily sighed at his nickname for you, hugging him close. “Yeah, everything is fine. I just got some good news today and I couldn’t keep myself from telling you. The second I found out, I could only think of you. I wanted to tell you right then and there, but I couldn’t.”

“I don’t know if this is a good thing or a bad thing,” he chuckled. The man ruffled his hair with one hand, giving a toothy grin. “Well, if that’s the case, I have something to tell you as well. Well… more like ask you, I guess.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. But, please, you go first. You seemed really excited about this so please share, baby. I’m all ears.”

You let out a heavy breath, nodding your head. “Alright. Well, I had a meeting this morning with Lee Soo Man and Jihun.”

“I don’t know if I should be worried or proud,” Taeyong cut in with a laugh. Scowling, his laughter only got louder with the light smack you gave to his chest. 

“Shush you,” you scolded. “As I was saying, we had a meeting this morning before I had to head to my vocal lessons. And they said some stuff about me and how I was doing in my training. And…”

“You said this was good news,” Taeyong exasperated. 

“I know, and it is!” you giggled. “Jihun mentioned how I have become such a leader amongst the group of trainees I am with, and how much I have improved since I started months ago. He showed some videos of our trainings and of my evaluations. And Lee Soo Man was very impressed with what he saw. And they said how they’ve been talking about it for a while now. And…”

“Babe,” Taeyong whined. With his arms draped around you, his face buried into your neck, his soft breath hitting your fiery skin. “Stop tormenting me. I can’t take it anymore. I need to know what’s going on!”

“You’re so impatient,” you giggled at him. Prying him from your neck, your hands cupped his cheeks, thumbs smoothing across his delicate features. “I’m no longer a trainee, Yong.”

The man blinked. “Wait, what?” he mumbled. “Does… what do you mean exactly?”

You smiled. “Thanks to you and all of that extra training, I’ve been accepted as one of the next SM Rookies. Because you never gave up on me, and you helped me when I was feeling like I couldn’t do this, I’ve managed to take that blank slate and write my own story on it.” Your fingers curled against his cheeks, a few stray, happy tears sliding down your cheeks. “Just like you, Yongie.”

“Oh my god,” he breathed, holding back his own tears. He wiped away the drops that stained your skin, pulling you forward into a deep kiss. “I can’t believe it, baby. You did it. You really did it.” His arms pulled you close, embracing you in a tight, but warm, hug. Your face was trapped against his chest, burrowed in the soft fabric that smelled slightly of Febreze. “I’m so proud of you. I knew you could do it. I’ve always known you could, but now, it’s so much more real. You’re going to make it big, Y/N, and I can’t wait to see that happen.”

“Thank you, Taeyong,” you breathed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“Sure you could-”

“No, I couldn’t. It’s because of you that I was able to get better. It’s because of you that I had the push to keep trying and get better. If you weren’t here, I would have given up and quit weeks ago. But you wouldn’t let me. And because of that, I knew I couldn’t let you down. I told myself that I would make you proud and one day, I would stand beside you on stage as your equal. You’ve given me so much inspiration just by being you and I want to do that too.”

“And you will,” he breathed, smiling widely. His words confused you, making you raise a brow at him. “Let’s just say that you aren’t the only one that had a meeting with Lee Soo Man today.”

“Oh? Pray tell, what happened to you today, my sweet boyfriend?”

“Mmm. Say that again,” he cooed. 

Rolling your eyes, you complied, pushing up to whisper against his lips, “Boyfriend.” The second the word left your lips, he pressed his lips to yours in a sweet kiss, molding his mouth to yours. 

The connection made you mewl slightly, allowing yourself to be pulled closer by the normally awkward idol. He wasn’t one to show affection often in public, but in private he had trouble keeping his hands to himself. Delicate fingers danced along your bare sides, tickling the skin until goosebumps rose under the tips. His head tilted to deepen the kiss, pushing passed partially parted lips so his tongue could teasingly play with yours. 

Before things could get more heated, you pulled away from his kiss. A whine of annoyance left his lips, wanting to taste more of your lips. Yet, he held back. 

“Finish what you were going to say, baby,” you told him. 

“Fine. But only if I get more kisses afterwards,” he pleaded. 

“I think we can arrange that.”

“Good,” he said. “So, before practice today, I had a meeting with Lee Soo Man, the managers, the other group leaders about the upcoming SM Town in a couple of months. I’m guessing my meeting was after yours since I didn’t see you around and you were already at practice by the time I got out-”

“Focus, Yong.”

“Right, right,” he nervously laughed. “First, I have to say that you are bound to not say anything about this right now until they talk about this to everyone. But, because this impacts you, I was given permission to say this.”

“Go on.”

“I’m going to have my own solo stage during the concert,” he confessed.

“Oh my god. Taeyong! That’s amazing! I’m so proud of you,” you hollered, hugging him tightly. “You definitely deserve it.”

“Thanks,” he shyly let out, cheeks heated. “I’ve been working on this song for a while. I’m actually going in tomorrow to record if you are free and want to join.”

“We’ll talk about that after.”

“Right. Well, I’m basically set to do two performances - one more of a dance performance and one a rap and dance. And when we were discussing ideas...” he paused, pursing and wetting his lips with the dart of his tongue. “I asked if I could do them… with you.”

“Wait, what?” You asked. “Why would you do that? You didn’t even know that I was a Rookie. I was still a trainee, but you still requested that?”

“Well, it makes more sense why they were willing to comply,” he snickered. “I asked because I wanted to be able to dance with you - to perform with you. And I’m not just saying this because you’re my girlfriend. I asked because you are a talented young woman and I want to be able to perform these with you. What I have planned only works in my mind with you. And I think you’re ready to be up there with the rest of us. They said that they’d allow it… if you agreed.”

“Taeyong…”

“It’s just two songs. One will be a collab vocal and dance, more focused on the dance than anything. Then the second one will be a dance for you while I do my solo song. I’ve been thinking about the choreography for weeks now and I can only pull it off if you are by my side performing it. So please, I’m just asking you right now to consider it. You have every right to tell me that you don’t think you are ready and want to wait. But we only have so much time to practice if you do want to do it…”

“Then, when are we meeting?”

Taeyong silenced himself, blinking a few times to process your words. His eyes bore into yours, a grin slowly forming. “Wait, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“I’ll do it,” you told him confidently. “I’m nervous as all hell because I don’t want to ruin your stage, but I want to do it. This is what I joined SM to do. If I back down now, when will I be ready? When will I have the chance again? And, with you there, I’m sure I can do anything.”

Taeyong smiled, tugging you into another hug. “You have no idea how happy you just made me,” he whispered. “Though you know you make me happy every day, right?”

“I could say the same about you,” you giggled. “So, when should we start?”

Taeyong hummed for a moment before choosing you back you up, your back hitting a wall. His hands trailed down your sides slowly, passing over your backside before coming to a rest on your thighs. With a swift motion, he lifted you up, your legs instinctually wrapping around his waist, using the wall as leverage to keep yourself upright. Your arms hung around his neck, playing with the loose blue hairs on the back of his head. 

“We can worry about that later,” he breathed, leaning in until he was almost touching your lips. “I think for now, you owe me a little kiss.”

“Are you really wanting to start a make out session in the practice rooms?” you teased. 

“Why not?” he mused. “It’s late. No one is here.”

“You know, sometimes I think you are this sweet and careful man. Then I remember that you aren’t,” you joked.

“Is that a no?”

“That’s an invitation to hurry up and kiss me before someone does walk in on us.”

Taeyong chuckled before pressing his lips to yours hastily and hungrily. Your hands, tangled in his silky locks, pushed his head closer to yours, not caring that your noses squished a tad or your teeth clashed slightly. His hands roamed your thighs, glad you were wearing shorts in the moment. The kiss was open-mouthed, his tongue tangling with yours between your cheeks. His body rocked against you subtly, pressing your chests and groins together. Heat radiated between your forms, drawing you together like magnets. 

The room filled with lip smacking and quiet groans. Every time a kiss a broken, your lips would let out a wet noise, Taeyong giving a second to breathe before delving back in for another kiss. Your mewls of contentment were swallowed, the sounds reverberating inside him. His fingers dug into your skin, squeezing at your thighs and sides happily. His own groans came from your dancing of your tongues and the sting from the tug on his hair that he enjoyed.

Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d be sharing such a fiery kiss in the middle of a practice room. But you weren’t going to argue the occurrence in the slightest.

You didn’t know how long you stayed there with him, but you were sure to enjoy the time.

~

The alarm on your phone blared from the side table, the room dark. You struggled to reach for the noisy device, your body restricted by the fluffy blankets and clinging boyfriend on your side that barely stirred from the blasting sounds in his dorm room. Letting out a sigh once the alarm was stopped, you glanced down at the sleeping bluenette, seeing his snuggled against you happily. His arm was clung to your waist, your legs tangled under the blankets. His face was buried against the side of your chest, gentle breathing fanning against the bare skin of your chest. 

Fingers raked through his locks, trying to urge him awake. “Yong, you have to wake up,” you cooed sweetly at him. 

“No,” he grumbled huskily, curling deeper into your side. Despite his protest to wake up, you stirred at the feeling of his lips against your chest, kissing at the side of your bare breast. 

“Is that so?” you whimpered at him, writhing slightly when his kisses increased. He smiled against your soft skin, trailing lazy kisses up to your perky nipple. “Really, Taeyong? You want to do this now?” 

The man stayed suckling at your supple breast for a moment before pulling away with a subtle pop. You could faintly see the lazy grin on his face through the darkness. 

“Can’t blame me,” he rasped, nuzzling his face between your breasts. “I just love you so much.”

The words made your heart jump, smiling down at him. “I love you too. But we have to get up. It’s the SM Town performance today, baby. We have to be there by noon to start getting ready. But you promised your members that you would make breakfast.”

“Can we just snuggle for a bit longer?” he asked, glancing up with a sleepy pout. 

Placing a kiss to the top of his head, you laughed. “Fine. But just a little bit longer,” you conceded. “But…” 

“But?”

You forced him off your chest and onto his back beside you, twisting your legs between his and slinging an arm across his smooth stomach. Your fingers ran along his milky skin, smiling to yourself. “I get to do this.”

Taeyong laughed, adjusting his position to drape his arm behind your head. His free arm moved behind his head, propping himself up to look down at you better. He watched you skim your fingers along his stomach, the blanket pushed down to his hips. The tips of your fingers circled his belly button, pressing against his lean muscles. 

“You have such a nice, smooth tummy,” you mumbled. Taeyong laughed at your words, shaking his head. 

“Is that all you like about me?” he asked jokingly.

“Yup,” you teased. “That and your amazing personality, caring nature, mean dance and rap skills, and just overall you.”

“Well, I appreciate that,” he chuckled. Resting your chin on his naked chest, you traced your fingers up his body until you found his arm. You traced along the tattoo on his elbow, the word reading “Under” in contrast to the “Stand” on the arm behind your head. “Enjoying yourself?”

“Of course,” you hummed. “I just love feeling your body. You have the softest skin, Yongie.”

“I work very hard to keep my skin healthy,” he told you. 

“Nothing beats your tummy though,” you giggled. “Your outfit tonight is going to drive me crazy. You wearing a see-through shirt? With your stomach showing? How am I supposed to dance and sing while you are looking like a snack?”

“Snack? Really?” He chuckled. “What about you? The dress you wear? I love the design they went with for it. You’re going to look so good.”

“I hope so.”

Taeyong remained quiet for a second before kissing your forehead. “How are you feeling today?” he asked seriously.

“If I’m being honest?” you hummed. “Nervous as all hell. I can’t believe this is happening. Today is the day and I just… I don’t want to screw this up.”

“You’re going to do great,” he told you making you look up at him. “We’ve practiced so much. You know the song. You know the dances. You just can’t let your nerves get to you.”

“How are you not nervous?” you asked, frowning at him. Taeyong laughed, ruffling his already messy bed head.

“Baby, I’m always nervous before a performance,” he admitted. “But I know it’ll be worth it to perform because I know the fans will enjoy it. And as long as I try, I give it my all, and I have fun, I know it’ll be worth it. Being up on stage, all those people watching you, is the most nerve wracking but exciting feeling. But I guarantee once you are out there, seeing all those light sticks shining in the sea of fans, hearing their fan chants and their cheers for you, you will love it.”

“You better be right,” you scowled, escaping his grasp. Hovering over him for a moment, you placed a tender kiss to his lips. “If you aren’t, then I will…”

“You will…?”

“I don’t know right now,” you huffed. “But I will be very mad!”

He watched you climb out of bed, finding a pair of clothes to wear from his drawers. He smiled to himself. “You’ll enjoy it. I just know it.”

“I’m sure you’re right. You always are,” you confessed, glancing back at him over your shoulder. “Now, get up and get dressed. We need to make breakfast before Mark comes knocking asking for food.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Mere hours later, after a rowdy and loud breakfast, you were whisked away to the Seoul World Cup Stadium in preparation for the performances that night. Taeyong gave you a sweet smile, yelling ‘fighting’ before he was dragged away for hair and makeup with his group members. 

You were escorted in the opposite direction, placed in a chair while your face was dusted with makeup and your hair was pinned up stylishly but elegantly. Your eyes popped and your lips looked vibrant. You couldn’t believe how good you looked when they stepped away, allowing you to stare at your reflection.

After dressing in your dress, a low-cut black dress that shimmered with sparkles, ending at your thighs and a pair of shorts underneath due to the performance at hand, and a pair of glittery silver heels adorned on your feet, you stood on the side of the stage watching the NCT performance going on. A stage hand was preparing your headset for the duet you would shortly perform with Taeyong, placing the earpiece in your left ear to hear yourself as you sang. You shuffled in your spot, feeling the anxiety bubbling up inside you. Your hands rang together awkwardly, trying to avoid gnawing at your lip to ease your stress. 

“I can do this,” you told yourself repeatedly, letting out a shaky breath. “I trained for this. I’m ready to do this. I can’t give up.” 

I can’t let Taeyong down.

As the music on stage came to an end, the vibrations fading away with the last chords, the eight boys of NCT 127, apart from Taeyong, fanned off the stage, leaving the solo idol in the center of the large platform. The lights were beating down on him, the black, sheer, long-sleeved shirt twinkling to match your dress. His black skinny jeans hugged his hips and legs, neatly shined black boots on his feet. Despite the cheer of the fans throughout the stadium, he remained composed, face turned to the ground to prepare for the song. 

The gentle beat of the music started, a familiar tune of Senorita coming through the speakers. You were given the cue to proceed, just as you had rehearsed the day before. With one last heavy breath, your feet carried your forward confidently, stepping onto the stage and under the bright colored lights in front of thousands of fans for the first time. 

Taeyong slowly turned to you as part of the dance, your slow, near sensual steps towards each other bringing you face to face. You wanted to crack a smile at him, but you remained focused, watching him step aside as you started to sing. Your solo dance and vocal section came first, showing precise steps, powerful moves, and sexy curves and shimmies of your body.

Taeyong’s section came next. He stood across the stage from you as he sang, showing his handsome yet talented self. Every move was perfection, the man a natural with the dance. It was more sensual than his normal dance moves, but he had no issue rolling his body to the beat, a hand running along the length of his chest to his covered groin. 

Your duet was next - your bodies came together, arms encircling one another as you danced together for the first time. His hands held your gently yet firmly as you moved your bodies against one another, Taeyong twirling you around, dipping you gracefully, and spinning you into his arms before grasping your leg, bringing it up his side.

You broke for a solo portion once more, repeating the process of dancing to your portion of the song before Taeyong had his own section. You couldn’t help but marvel when he danced, almost forgetting to do your part before you came together for the last portion of your dance together. 

When you came together once more, you were elated with how the dance turned out. Your steps were perfectly in sync, never missing a beat with one another. Your bodies fit against one another seamlessly with each roll of your figure or advance on one another. Taeyong fingers grazed your carefully when he would trace along your body, leaving a trail of fire along the way. Your heart pounded the entire time, but you loved the feeling of being there with him. 

The dance ended with you forms back to back. The music died down, but the thumping in your ears didn’t. You didn’t even register the screams of the crowd as you walked off briskly, swapping shoes quickly and pulling on a sparkly black leather jacket. Taeyong was beginning his new solo song, his voice fading away for a short interlude. That was the cue for you to rejoin his side, his own black jacket in hand.

You helped him slide it on, his hand resting on your side briefly once it was on. This time, you didn’t hide the smile on your face, his own smirk rising. Your bodies separated, turning to face the crowd. Your eyes scanned the seats, inwardly grinning while eyeing the waving light sticks and cheerful fans. Your eyes rang with Taeyong’s voice, his rap beginning to pick up. 

With the start of his song came the start of the dance. The style was completely different than your first dance, the current dance being higher paced, along the lines of a hip-hop style. Your body popped more than before, feet swiveling on the stage - you were thankful for the switch for the sneakers over the heels. You still managed to match Taeyong’s moves perfectly, never missing a beat or disconnecting from his steps. The dance was more fun to perform, but still help a passionate edge when you got to pull him closer, standing chest to chest with the man of your dreams, or when he spun you around into his arms, his long fingers ghosting down your arm until he was holding your hand, sparks from his fingertips leaving goosebumps along your clothed skin.

You stepped away briefly before stepping together one last time. The song closed, you both turning to the crowd. As the music ended, your bodies heaving with heavy pants for precious air, they erupted into a sea of screams that consisted of not only Taeyong’s name, but yours as well. You saw people standing from the seats, bouncing on the balls of their feet as they chanted, waving the various colors in the sky. 

You wanted to cry. You wanted to cheer. You felt overwhelmed from the validation.

But you held it in as you and Taeyong rushed off stage for the next performance. Your head was pounding, and you were dripping with sweat from the heat of the stage, but you were thrilled. Your quick steps came to a halt as soon as you got backstage, away from the camera and fans. Turning to face the popular idol, he was giving you a smile, two hands raised to give you a high five.

You smiled, slapping your hands to his. You remained in that stance for a second, allowing everything to sink in. After the second passed, Taeyong pushed forward, his arms dropping and wrapping around your waist instead. You were lifted from the ground, your arms instantly flinging around his neck and hugging him close. Spinning in circles, you both laughed joyously. 

“You did it!” he cheered, hearing you laugh more.

“We did it,” you corrected.

Taeyong placed you back on the ground, pushing a few strands of loose hair back. “No. You did it. This was your first performance and they loved it. They loved you, Y/N. They were chanting for you, they were cheering for you. You were amazing out there and they saw that.” He hugged you once more, lifting you back off the ground. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Taeyong,” you whispered, burying your face in his neck. “Thank you. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“This was all you, Y/N,” he said. He placed you back down, sticking his tongue out playfully. “Welcome to the big leagues now, idol. It’s good to have you with us.”

You grinned, smacking him jokingly. “It’s good to be here. I’m glad I can join such an amazing group of people to work with.”

“The world should be ready to see more of Y/N. Because this was just the beginning.”

You smiled at him, dragging him away. “You’re right, Yong. Because I’m never giving this up.”

Taeyong smiled, stealthily slipping his hand in yours as you walked towards wardrobe to change for the final stage, everyone sporting the same SM Town shirt. “That’s what I like to hear.”

You were high from the adrenaline, but you knew this is where you were meant to be. 

~

You returned to the NCT dorm with the boys after the concert ended, all nine spouting off about wanting to celebrate. However, the last thing you really wanted to do was party, and it was evident the others were just as exhausted. Feet trudged along to the door of the large dorm, holding it open for you to walk in. Taeyong stood behind you, his hands on your hips as he slouched forward against you. 

Despite their reckless desire to celebrate the night, all the boys went their separate ways, bidding adieu on their way to their respective rooms to collapse. A few stopped into the kitchen to grab a snack before disappearing to their rooms. Taeyong led you to his room, opening the door and allowing you to enter first.

He chuckled lowly when you collapsed to the bed, letting out a heavenly sigh of relief. “Who would have thought that being a rookie idol would be this tiring?” came your muffled voice, face smushed in his pillows. The bed dipped with his weight when he sat beside you, rubbing a soothing hand along your back. 

“Just wait till you actually debut and start touring and performing more often. It gets…” he paused, pondering his words. “Tiring.”

“I’d bet.”

“How about,” he hummed, turning you onto your back so he could hover over you better. He carefully reached out to pull a few pins holding your hair up carefully from your stiff locks, “You go take a shower first and relax a bit. I will shower when you are done.”

“A shower sounds nice,” you mumbled, taking his hand in yours. “But you can just join me?”

The phrase came out as more of a question, but it didn’t catch Taeyong off guard.

“You know I’d love to, but the others are home…”

“And they’re in their rooms, probably already asleep. You have your own bathroom. And it’s just a shower, Yong.”

Sucking his lips between his teeth, he tugged you up, stifling a laugh at the groan you let out even though you allowed him to drag you away. The light flickered to life, Taeyong pulling you in and closing the door behind your forms. He pulled two towels from under his sink, placing them aside. Your eyes followed him as he made for the shower, turning on the water to allow the heat to build, soft wisps of steams floating through the air. 

The lean idol stripped his head over his head, placing it neatly aside for him to hang later. Turning to you next, he helped to pull your shirt away from your form, placing it with his. Nimble fingers made quick work of the button and zipper on your jeans, your hands resting on his shoulders while he kneeled low enough to slide the dark denim from your legs. 

Being the gentleman he was, he turned to allow you to finish undressing yourself, though it wasn’t anything new for him to see, and step into the shower before him. You did so wordlessly, a glowing smile upon your cheeks the entire time.  Stripping free of your bra and underwear, you stepped through the glass door into the scalding watering. A giant sigh of delight escaped, almost the sound of a low moan.

Taeyong joined you shortly after, staring at you for a moment under the water. He admired the way the droplets cascaded down your body, your head dipped under the waterfall of water, allowing it to wet your hair. Your hands scrubbed at the makeup that caked your face, revealing your natural beauty that was one of the things he loved about you. 

He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around your waist and hugging you against his bare form. You smiled happily, leaning back into his grasp, your head resting on his shoulder. The water fell over your forms, the heat helping your bodies to relax from the stress and strain of the day. He held you for what felt like an eternity, just allow you to rest in his arms. 

The idol grabbed the shampoo from his neatly organized shampoo ack, lathering a few drops in your hair gently. You did the same to him, using the hair treatment shampoo for his colored hair. Repeating the process with conditioner, you moved on to soaping up your bodies, cleaning yourself of any sweat that clung to you still and any remaining makeup that was dusted to your skin.

The soapy suds circled your feet as it was rinsed away, spiraling down the drain. Taeyong hugged you close to him as the last of the bubbles vanished. His fingers ran through your hair, your head tilting up to stare at his handsome face. Your eyes traced along the sharp jawline and dark eyes, slowly pushing up to press your lips to his soft pink ones in a supple kiss.

His arms tightened around you, eyes fluttering closed while responding with his own force. He pressed into you, returning the kiss thoughtlessly. His head tilted to the side to allow himself more access, lips parting to share a steamy open-mouth kiss. Your tongues tangled together between your cheeks, lips dragging against each other. Each separation caused a low smack to resonate around you, amplified by the glass walls and heated air. Taeyong would then dip back down to repeat the actions, each new kiss growing more passionate than before.

Slowly, his lips began to drag down your jaw to your neck, placing loving kisses to your skin. A low moan escaped your lips before you attempted to seal them together, not wanting to alert the others of what was going on in the dorm. The idol didn’t seem to enjoy that. His frown was evident against your neck, and his actions portrayed the dissatisfaction from the lack of noise. His hands began to roam your body, thumbs brushing against your pert nipples and tracing the round curvature of your breasts.

“Taeyong,” you let out quietly. “The others-”

“They won’t hear,” he rasped. “You even said it yourself. They’re in bed. And if you are worried, then you should keep quiet.”

“You’re mean,” you fake cried.

“But you love it,” he cooed teasingly, his head traveling lower, kissing you along the way. “We’ll keep this short.”

Those were the last words he managed to utter before he connected his lips to your chest, suckling to your hardened bud. His hand toyed with the other breast, squeezing at it firmly. Your hands wound through his blue locks, low moans filling Taeyong’s ears. The attack of his mouth to your mound increased at the new noises, nipping and kitten licking at the tender skin of your chest. His tongue flicked at the nipple before tugging at it with his lips and teeth, a pop echoing in your ears.

The same process was repeated to your other breast, the idol leader playing favor to suckling at the nipple, latching onto it to give it plenty of attention. When he finally disconnected, the man sunk to his knees, gently parting your legs for him to settle between. You used his shoulders to stay upright, sighing contently at the feeling of his hot breath against your core.

He wasted no time pressing his lips to your center, dragging his tongue through your folds and into your throbbing pussy. Nails dug into his pristine skin, a short gasp of ecstasy released at the feeling. He lapped at your core, circling the wet article inside you for a bit before taunting you by pulling it in and out occasionally.

When his mouth finally met your clit, you moaned louder than before. A grin grew on his face, suck at the nub harshly. A hand slid up your leg, disappearing between them. Two fingers circled your entrance before pushing into you. The thrusts started slow at first, focusing more of his effort on his mouth attached to your clit, but the pace gradually picked up. The tips of his long fingers curled, scratching at your inner walls with each thrust. 

You moans picked up, one hand covering your mouth to shield the volume before you were screaming through the dorm for the other members to hear. Your body was on fire from how he made you feel, a knot growing inside your lower abdomen. The knot tightened severely when the curled fingers brushed to your g-spot, causing your body to jerk forward with a short call of his name. 

His licks got faster, his fingers speeding up until he was knuckle deep, pounding you furiously to get you to your high. Your own fingers curled back into his wet hair, giving it small tugs that did nothing to ease the smoldering fire within. Your heart was racing, thumping loudly in your ears. Your walls were clenching and unclenching alternatively, trying to hug at the digits inside you. Your stomach tightened at the overwhelming feeling of arousal that was washing over you.

“Yong… Taeyong,” you gasped through your fingers. “I’m…”

He nodded in understanding, flicking quickly at your clit, aiming for your g-spot with his fingers as often as possible to get you to the turn. Your sight went white for a moment when the knot unraveled, walls clinging around his fingers and spilling your essence around them. Some drops escaped and trickled down your leg, washing away with the cooling water that still fell from above. 

Taeyong’s mouth detached from your core, licking through your folds a few times before standing upright, pulling you against him. Any juices that were on his hand washed away, his clean hand tracing up and down your spine to soothe you through your climax. His lips pressed to your forehead, uttering a short ‘I love you’ before pulling away.

“I will leave you to finish. Take your time, alright? I will leave you some clothes on the counter.”

You nodded at him, hazy eyes watching him leave the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist and disappearing out the door, hearing a near silent click when it shut. Your eyes closed, allowing yourself to relax for a few minutes, your mind still buzzing from the aftermath of your orgasm.

You dried and dressed in one of his long sleeve shirts, a pair of shorts you had left in his room hugging your waist. You ran the towel through your hair as you walked back into his room, spotting him at his desk - dressed and comfortable a simple white tee and lounge pants. His hair was still wet, his eyes focused on whatever he was working on. His fabric markers were strewn across the top of his table. Soft music played from his phone, the man humming along to the Post Malone song. Your clothes had been hung up, ready for the wash. His hair dryer was plugged in beside him, resting on his desk with other random belongings.

He didn’t flinch when your hands met his shoulders, running down his arms slowly, feeling the goosebumps that prickled along his arms. Trickling your fingertips back up, one hand laced through his wet locks, the other moving to grab the hairdryer. Cautiously, not wanting to burn him, you clicked the machine on, threading your fingers through his hair as the heat penetrated them, the wet strands fluffing and drying. You were careful not to get to close to his ears or scalp, scratching at it lightly and soothingly. 

When he was fully dried, you proceeded to dry your own hair, watching him doodle on two pairs of white shoes. Each pair had the same markings, from words to pictures. The other difference was one pair had his name, the other pair not matching the elegant lettering on the side. The machine buzzed to silence when you turned it off, putting it down and unplugging it. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you rested on his shoulder, watching him closely.

“What are you working on?” you asked. Taeyong turned his head towards you, smiling sweetly, a bright blush on his cheeks. 

“You weren’t supposed to find out until they were done,” he huffed playfully. 

“Well, you’re the one that was working on them knowing I was just in the bathroom.”

“I know,” he mused. “I wanted it to be a surprise, but I also can’t keep anything from you. I’ve wanted to let you know about this little project for a while.”

“So? What are you up to, Lee Taeyong?”

“I was designing a new pair of shoes… for both of us,” he mumbled, almost embarrassed. “You know, a matching set for us to wear. As a…”

“As a couple?” you asked, the idol nodding. You smiled at him, placing a tender kiss to his cheek. “That’s sweet, babe. I love that so much.”

“You do?” he asked meekly.

“Of course,” you giggled. “Plus, they are coming from you. Why wouldn’t I love them?”

“I don’t know…”

“I think it’s sweet,” you hummed, hugging him tighter, peppering the side of his face in kisses that made him smile and laugh. “I can’t wait until they are done so we can wear them together.”

“I’ll have them done soon,” he told you, turning to stare at you. Without hesitation, he pressed his lips to yours in a simple kiss that didn’t last long, though a tingling sensation was left behind after your separated. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Yong.”

He grinned, kissing you again swiftly. The kiss didn’t linger long before Taeyong had broken away, hand scouring the desk for the polaroid camera you had gifted him one day. He used it regularly when he was with the guys and yourself. The pictures he took were lining his shelves on a string, and he was more than happy to add to them. He had mastered the art of taking a selfie with the polaroid camera, swapping it to aim towards you. 

Your face nuzzled against his, pressing your cheeks together. You each gave a toothy grin before the shutter went off, picture printing from the camera. Taeyong took the newly printed image, placing it aside to develop before aiming the camera again. This time, he turned to you, eyes closing as you shared a loving kiss. Your own eyes fluttered closed, relishing in the feeling he gave you. 

Even when the camera went off and the picture printed, you didn’t separate, allowing Taeyong’s lips to drag against yours. His lips completely covered yours, meshing together perfectly, giving them a soft, wet pop when he eventually pulled away. You instantly pulled him back in, sharing a heated open-mouth kiss that left him whining softly, shuffling in his seat. 

You pulled away from him, taking the developing pictures from Taeyong’s desk to hang them up. He put the camera away, gathering the scattered markers in one spot beside the two pairs of white shoes. Spinning in the chair, we chuckled as he watched you struggle to hang up the pictures, your tongue sticking out upon figure out where to place them. You managed to hang up the first photo of you both smiling before Taeyong joined your side, taking the second photo.

“I think this is my favorite one of us,” he spoke, admiring the photo. “I should frame it.”

“You’re a dork,” you laughed, kissing his cheek. 

“Don’t laugh at me. It’s cute!” he scowled, choosing to hang the photo in the middle of the line, adjusting those around it to properly showcase his idol family. He looked proud of his display, hands pressed to his slim waist. “There. It’s perfect for now.”

“For now?” you teased, collapsing on his bed. Hugging a pillow to your chest and curling into a ball, you watched him straighten up his room, giving a few squirts of Febreze to freshen the place before preparing to sleep. Taeyong stood in the middle of the room, glancing in your direction and snickering at the ball cuddled into his sheets. Slowly, his shirt was peeling over his head, placed with the rest of his clothes. 

A short yelp of surprise and joy left your lips when he tackled you to the bed, your bodies rolling around the covers until your back was against the small mattress, his body hovering over yours. His face nestled its way into your neck, nipping and kissing the skin. His hands traveled your sides, hips rutting against yours. A low mewl escaped, music to the man’s ears that urged him to push harder and faster, more kisses to delicate skin. 

“Taeyong, we can’t wake the others-”

The hands trailing along your sides began to tickle at your skin, making you erupt in laughter. Your body squirmed and writhed, trying to escape his grasp, but you remained trapped by his form. Taeyong moved away from your neck to watch you laugh, joining in on the hysterics when you attempted to tickle him back. 

His phone dinged from where he placed it on his bedside table before tackling you. With a deep groan, he paused and grabbed it, reading the message received. You watched him silently, panting to catch your breath from his relentless attack. He snickered slightly before turning it to face you, allowing you to laugh with him as well. 

“I told you we can’t wake the others. And here we are, receiving a message from Mark to keep it down.”

The text was a jumble of letters and numbers, obviously derived from sleep, but it was easy to make out the words Be quiet and go to bed already! from the younger rapper. Your hand covered your mouth, shielding yourself from laughing loudly once again. Taeyong put his phone back, biting at his lip to control his own laughs. 

The man rolled off you, resting on his side with one arm draped over you. To face you, you rolled onto your own side. Your fingers ran through the soft tendrils on his head, watching his beautiful orbs close. His fingers curled against your side, pushing up the shirt you wore to feel your skin. 

“Have I told you how proud I am of you for everything you’ve accomplished?” he spoke slowly, sliding closer until he was pressed flush against you. “Because I am. It doesn’t feel like that long ago that you joined as a trainee and I saw that nervous kitten in the studio. You reminded me so much of myself that I just… I had to help you. But as I got to know you, I couldn’t help just how natural it felt to be with you. I was so drawn to you from day one that I don’t know what I would do if you didn’t make it this far. 

“But look at everything you’ve managed to accomplish. All that hard work. You are just so talented, and you finally got to a point where you can show others just what you are capable of. And it’s not because of me. I helped you along the way, coached you and guided you, but it was all you, baby. You never gave up and now you are a rookie. You are up there performing with the best of us. And I’m sure in no time, you will be in a group of your own, touring across the world and doing what you love. 

“And I couldn’t be prouder to see how far you have come since that first day. I’m glad I could see how you progressed and how you developed. And I surely can’t wait to see where you go in the future.” He paused, rubbing his lips together. “And I hope I can be by your side along the way. As your company mate. As your friend. And as your boyfriend.”

“Taeyong,” you sniffled. “I know you said that it was all me, but I really couldn’t have done it without you. And you have no idea how thankful I am. And I’m glad that I could make it this far with you by my side.”

You paused, pulling him closer our noses brushed against each other. Your lips were nearly upon yours as you mumbled at him. 

“And I never want to give up this dream as long as I have you by my side as my company mate, my friend, and as my boyfriend.” You grinned, pushing into him more. Your legs tangled together, arms encasing each other. “I love you so much.”

He didn’t respond - verbally. His lips pressed to yours, pulling you as close as possible. The open-mouth kiss was steamy from the start, his lips dragging against yours in noisy smacks. Your tongues danced together, a moan caught in your throat. Your bodies rocked against one another, kisses growing sloppier by the second. Your hands tangled in his locks, giving them a tug as the intensity increased. Your legs curled around his, your toes flexing and coiling. His hands roamed your body unforgivingly, selfishly attacking your lips repeatedly until you couldn’t breathe. 

His hands pushed at your shirt, helping you to rid it from your torso and carelessly tossing it away. Greedy hands palmed at your chest, keeping you preoccupied and silenced with the numerous, fiery kisses you shared. While you choked on his tongue, moans were trapped in yours and his throats, enjoying the feeling of his hands on your body. Your eager form pushed into him, rolling together against his heated body. 

His lips broke from yours, tracing along your jaw leading towards your chin, and finally down your neck. He slid down your form to your chest, repeating the same process he had in the shower not long before. Already botched in red dots from his prior activities, newly left marks were left along your breasts as he roamed your mounds. Your favorite part was always when he found your pert nipples, wrapping his lips around them, tugging and nipping at them all while suckling happy at the sensitive bud. The overwhelming sensation of him attached to your breast, lovingly flicking his tongue around the bud, made you moan his name, coaxing him to continue what he was doing.

His lips broke from your breast with a not so subtle pop, smacking his lips together a few times before returning to your lips. The intense kiss made your stomach tighten, your legs kicking and squeezing in an attempt to relieve the sensation between them. Your reaction to his lips made him twitch with excitement, eager hands tugging at your shorts and panties. He managed to push them down without breaking the kiss, your feet kicking them over the end of the bed. HIs lounge pants and boxers followed, taking an extra moment to leave his long legs when they tangled around his ankles. 

One veiny hand was used to drape your leg over his waist, his erect cock pressed between your stomachs. His hips jerked forward, rutting himself against you, making himself twitch and harden more. Your lips broke from his to glance down, the image slightly blurred by hazy eyes. Even in the low light of his room, you could see the swollen red tip of his length between you, beads of precum seeping from the slit. Your mouth watered, core tightening with want. 

“Can I?” he asked quietly, somewhat panting from his excitement. “Please.”

“Yes,” you replied shortly, hugging him close to you. 

Gleefully, Taeyong aligned himself with your core, careful as he eased his way into you. An echo of low moans left you both, Taeyong enjoying the sensation of your tight walls around him and you relishing in the way his large shaft stretched you as he slid in, burying himself hilt deep. The feeling was raw, unlike your first time when the condom shielded his skin from yours. It was times like this you were glad you were on birth control. The feeling was amplified without the need for the pesky rubber. 

Taeyong still inside you, allowing you to adjust to his size, and to not lose control of himself too quick. It didn’t matter how many times he found himself in this position - you drove him crazy every single time. You brought him back up to short kisses, tangling your fingers in his hair as you did. The hand that was on your thigh over his waist squeeze happily, a way to tell you he was enjoying everything. 

When your hips jutted forward, telling him you were ready, he broke the kiss, focusing on his movements. Taeyong always wanted to please you. As much as he loved your kisses, especially during intimate moments like this, we wanted to focus on making you feel good. And one thing he learned was that when you felt good because of his powerful and quick thrusts, you were vocal about it. 

He pulled back slowly before pushing back in just as calmly. The mewls of protest made him chuckle deeply, steadily picking up his pace until he was pounding into you at a consistently strong rhythm. His hand help you close, clenching you so tightly that veins were beginning to run along his arms. Your hips clapped together, the sweat that produced between you making the noise grow. His large cock filled you completely, sliding along your soaked, sensitive walls and hitting every spot that made your head spin. 

He kept hitting the one spot he knew drove you insane. Your hand shot up to cover your mouth, near screaming-like moans leaving your lips, throat vibrating. Taeyong wished he could enjoy the noises, but knowing the others were in the dorm kept him from hearing the music of his angel to the extent he preferred. It didn’t hinder his thrusts, determination growing and more powerful thrusts used to slam him deep into your wet pussy.

He pushed you back until your back hit the mattress once more, the idol settling between your spread legs. His hands held your knees back, your feet left floating in air to flop around with each sloppy thrust. Not having anything to hold, your arms extended up above your head, Taeyong having a perfect view of your blissful face and bouncing breasts. The sight of your tits jiggling with every thrust he delivered made his mouth water, wanting to lean forward to attach to them, slathering them with love. 

But he focused on you. He knew you were tired. He was too. He didn’t want to drag out this love making session too long, but he wanted to give you a release. Hell, he wanted a release too, otherwise he wouldn’t be sleeping long that night. His head was spinning with ecstasy, your body burning with love and passion.

He panted, pistoning himself furiously into you. “You feel so good,” he let out as a gasp. “God, I love you so much.”

You couldn’t respond. The tip of his cock kept hitting the sweet spot into you because of the altered angle he was fucking you at. He managed to slide deep into you, directed towards your g-spot. Combined with the pulsing of his cock against your already tight, wet walls, you were a mess. Your core tightened, back arching. You were struggling to withhold as many noises as you could, though many moans, groans and whines filled his room, mixing with the loud slap of skin on skin from your lower halves. 

You both felt the fire. Your walls were convulsing around his large shaft, while his cock throbbed, ready to explode. Your stomachs coiled, burning away quickly before the final snap. Taeyong’s trusts were growing sloppier, never one losing their edge. He kept pushing until he could no longer see straight, blinking rapidly to keep his sight clear.

He eventually collapsed forward, placing a determined kiss to your lips. The hug of your walls was too much for him, and his seed exploded out in strands of white. His cream painted your inner walls in heated juice, slowing thrusts allowing each milky strand to shoot out, coating every part of your pussy. The heat of his cum swirling around inside you made you own will break, one final clench of your stomach pushing your own release out. Your walls clung to him, juices leaking around him and mixing with his own droplets that spilled into you. Your core kept him tightly embraced, milking him until every last drop escaped. 

With him still burrowed deep inside you, you pulled him into another his, arms wrapped around his neck and tangling through his hair., nails scratching at his scalp. The man let out a breath of relief from the orgasm he had, melting into the sultry kiss. His body nearly collapsed on yours, your bodies rocking against each other happily. Your skin stuck together from the sweat produced from the rigorous activities, but you never minded being close to this man.

You loved him.

And you never wanted to give him up.

You fell asleep in his arms that night, not caring to dress or clean up. You were content enough just being with him, a much-needed restful night shared after the successes you had that one day. 

~

Decorated white shoes squeezed their way down the hall, destination engraved in the owner’s mind. As soon as he got the text, he didn’t need to be told where to go. It was too often he found himself headed in that way after practice or recording. It was like another home to him at this point. And when the door came into view, Taeyong couldn’t help but to smile widely, despite his confused curiosity of why he was facing the practice room.

Your practice room.

He expected to find you dancing when he walked in. He always did. And when you told him not to rush because you knew he was working on writing a new song for his upcoming solo album, he thought you would be passing the time in ways you knew how to - dancing to random songs and singing along in the same voice he fell in love with forever ago. 

He was surprised to find you standing in the middle of the room, no music playing, and no shock on your face to see him walk in. You were waiting for him, grinning madly. He inwardly smiled at your appearance, the simple joggers and tank top matching with the shoes he designed for you that were wearing with age. It was nearing a year since you started wearing them and wearing them daily took their toll on the shoes. 

His were the same way, after all. 

You rocked back and forth, hands behind your back, waiting for him to enter and approach you. He did just as you thought, placing his bag down before making his way over to you. Arms instantly encircled your waist, your feet leaving the ground when he lifted you up. Your arms found their way around his neck, hugging him close and weaving your digits through the strands of hair on the back of his head without a second thought. His lips pressed to yours in a succulent embrace, keeping the kiss short but sweet.

“You rang, my sweet?” he teased, placing you down.

“I did. I’m glad you were able to come so quick too. Because I don’t know how long I could contain myself on this.”

Taeyong hummed at you, tracing his fingers along your sides. “So, something really good is happening then? Otherwise you wouldn’t be this excited about something.”

“Something great is happening,” you hummed. “Take a guess!”

The idol pouted. “You know I hate guessing games,” he pouted. “Just tell me, baby.”

“You’re such a spoil sport,” you huffed. “Well fine then. I had a meeting with Lee Soo Man today.”

“Oh? What happened?” he asked curiously. 

“I’m getting to it! Calm down!” you teased. “You know how I’ve been a rookie for about a year now?” 

“Yeah?”

“Well… I guess you can say I’m not a rookie anymore.”

Taeyong blinked one, then twice, before his smile grew, eyes twinkling with delight. “Wait. Are you saying what I think you’re telling me?”

“I don’t know. What are you thinking?”

“Are you…” he paused to wet his lips. “Are you going to be debuting with a group?” 

You nodded happily, tears begging to prickle the corner of your eyes from overwhelming joy. His smile grew larger than you thought possible, picking you up and spinning around.

“Oh my god. You’re debuting?” he screamed. “You’re really debuting!”

“Yeah,” you cried, burying your head in his neck. Taeyong ceases his spins, hugging your koala-like form tightly to him. “I’m really debuting, Yong. I’m really an idol now.”

“I knew you could do it,” he whispered, not bothering to wipe his own tears of joy. “God, I’m so proud of you. I knew you would make it one day and look where you are now. You’re at the top, baby.”

“It’s all thanks to you,” you told him, moving your head and kissing him softly. “You kept me from never giving up. You encouraged me to be my best and I’m here because you believed in me.”

“It was all you, Y/N,” he mused, kissing you sweetly before placing you down. “You never gave up.”

“I owe it to the best man in the world knowing my worth and giving me that push though. I owe it to the best man for seeing himself in me and knowing I would regret everything if I gave up. I owe it to him for loving me and helping push me to be my best.”

“Don’t flatter me,” he joked.

“I meant Donghae.”

Taeyong blew a raspberry at you before speaking back up. “So, do I get any other details besides you are debuting? Like when? What position? Does your group have a name?”

“How about I give you a yes to everything,” you joked, tapping his nose.

“Well, out with it!”

“Impatient young man,” you laughed. “Well, I’m pleased to announce to you, and only you for now because I was allowed to share this with you, that I will be the main dancer and lead vocal for a new girl group,” you told him. Taeyong gaped.

“Really. That’s so-”

“That’s not all,” you cut him off with a smile. “I’m also the leader of said girl group.”

“Oh my god,” he let out. “I’m so proud of you, Y/N! But you’re not telling me the name. What is my beautiful girl going to be the leader of?”

You grinned, blushing brightly. “Well, it’s been in talks for a while, but I will be joining your family.”

He blinked. “Wha-”

“You are the leader of NCT 127. And I will be joining you as the leader of the new NCT girl subgroup - NCT G.”

He gaped, eyes growing wide. “You mean…”

“I’m joining the NCT family with you.”

He let out a low sob, hugging you close again. You clung to him, petting the back of his head as his face buried in your neck. “You’re doing it, baby.”

“I am, and I couldn’t ask for a better group to be part of.”

He faced you, wet tears along his cheeks. But his smile was vibrant. “Well, welcome to the family, Y/N. We’re glad to have you.”

You grinned, wrapping yourself in his embrace. “I’m glad to be with you guys, forever and always. I’m glad I can be by your side through all of this, Taeyong. But you know, if I’m glad about anything, I really am glad that I never gave up on this dream because if I did, I wouldn’t be here with you.”

“Well, I’m never giving you up,” he joked.

“You better not.” 

NCTzens Tag: @brien-odylan​, @goldenmndes​, @belleknows​

[danwhobrowses]

Why ‘The Karate Kid Part II’ Deserves More Respect

So guess what film I finished watching today? Of course, the Karate Kid franchise is considered iconic mainly for its first entry; Wax on Wax off, Skeleton fights, Sweep the Leg and the Crane Kick all cemented its legacy that allowed Cobra Kai to also be such a success. But imagine my shock when the approval rating on Rotten Tomatoes for Part II is 45% - 21% lower than the Jaden Smith ‘The Karate Kung Fu Kid’ version (and Part III is scored 15%, which is also super harsh but hard to debate outside of the magnificence of Terry Silver). Originally this was just gonna be a general post of how much I enjoyed retreading Part II, but upon seeing that score I had to give it my ‘Deserves More Respect’ posts.

It is an off-chance, but if you haven’t watched this film there will be spoilers within, I encourage you to watch it before reading, and maybe watch it again if you have so it’s fresh in the mind

Let’s start with a controversial point shall we? There are several parts where Part II is actually better than the original. Now I know! There’s a lot about the original which is iconic, but nostalgia does blind you to other shortcomings and while it’s easy to sell the first part because of its mystique, a sequel has the added pressure of rising above and developing on old and new themes set by the predecessor. The Premise In case you decided against refreshing your memory. Karate Kid Part II starts with a recap of Part I, a bit of content that was meant to be Part I’s final scene (in the script, not for filming) and then a timeskip. Ali with an i is gone - brutally dumping Daniel for some Football Player before Senior Prom and after crashing his car, Daniel’s mother is in Fresno for work and Miyagi has received a letter from his home Okinawa in news of his father’s fading health. The stage is set for Daniel and the audience to learn more about the iconic Mr. Miyagi and the life he left behind. Okay, so there is bad in this film Part II deserves respect, but it’s not perfect. It definitely gets messy near the end with Daniel’s antagonist Chozen, he mainly took beats from Johnny Lawrence in physically confronting Daniel when he could with a bunch of no-named goons and he fought pretty similarly to Johnny in catch counters and leg strikes. The opening recap did take a lot of time too, while the ending remained somewhat abrupt having just beaten up Chozen to embrace Kumiko (who had a delayed recovery after being punched once). While not bad, a fair amount of retreaded content felt like downgrades of the original; Chozen and Sato lacked the charisma of Johnny and Kreese, the crane kick was far more impressive than the drum technique and the Tournament setting was grander than the O-Bon festival. But, there are Iconic Moments in this film too Part I may have the Crane Kick and the Skeletons and the Training and Sweep the Leg. But people may forget that Part II had awesome moments too.

Like Daniel chopping through 6 Sheets of Ice! If that isn’t one hell of a power play I don’t know what is. It is a moment genuinely impressive in and outside of the 80s cheese universe of Karate Kid, and it gets referenced in Season 2 of Cobra Kai.

Also referenced in Season 2 is Miyagi vs Kreese. While this is the intended ending for Part I, it certainly acted better at the start of Part II, especially given that is foreshadows the situation Daniel finds himself in at the end of the movie. This moment is equally iconic as it completely encapsulates the character of both senseis - Kreese the confident brute brought to a sniveling mouse when size and power failed him and Miyagi the cool-headed and vastly more intelligent fighter still with the cheeky prankster lightness to him as he honks the scared shitless Kreese on the nose. Perfect.

While I did want to cite the Tea Ceremony as well I think the more iconic moment for Part II had to be Miyagi chopping the log during the storm. The storm itself is a very well-done scene which unmasks several characters in the face of adversity. True tension, worry and stakes are sold as the village are in danger of the cruel whims of nature, an act which is all too real for Sato when the house he’s in collapses on him in the calm before his scheduled deathmatch with Miyagi. Not only is this again some great foreshadowing by the rule of three (Daniel asking if Miyagi can chop a log like Sato is doing with a banner and then Miyagi and Sato meeting and seeing Sato fail to chop a log) it proves a pivotal point where Sato turns from aggrieved antagonist to repenting ally. A great show of power and friendship as Miyagi metaphorically breaks the rift between their friendship that weighs Sato down. Okay, we hear you, but how is it better? I do have to preface that I do still love Part I, I have to because in pointing out where Part II is better I have to pick at Part I’s faults. While the ending is messy Part II definitely has much better pacing, until the skeletons scene Part I doesn’t really pick up because it has to set up, Part II while it does recap doesn’t need to worry about it. Giving Miyagi the main plot was definitely Part II’s strongest suit. Part I profited from Miyagi being the ‘mysterious old teacher’ but learning a lot more about his humanity and history was engrossing and it allowed positive development for Miyagi and Daniel, especially their bond as a surrogate father and son when Daniel personally goes out of his way to support Miyagi on a very personal matter. The main characters maintain their charm as well, still a lovely array of life lessons in Part II more than just finding balance, Miyagi teaches Daniel through words and action on taking time to breathe, to refocus when imbalanced, to forgive rather than to harbour hate, mercy, selflessness and humbleness

“never put passion before principle. Even if win, you lose.” - Mr. Miyagi

The scenes involving Miyagi and his father were some of the most deep and emotive of the series up until Cobra Kai, some still haven’t been topped such as Miyagi’s dad’s first words to his son or when Daniel talked about when his father died.  And say what you will about Chozen, he does have a lot of Johnny vibes but a lot of the character we believed was Johnny due to nostalgia goggles was more fitting of Chozen’s manner. The story did a great job in making sure Chozen was always an asshole, at times Johnny did at least display honour and grace but Chozen was always sore about stuff and quick to claim dishonour even when he was in the wrong. Contrary to Johnny it’s more about his family than it is about a girl, which allowed a lot more freedom in the plot. Whether you felt Elizabeth Shue’s Ali with an i was prettier than Tamlyn Tomita’s Kumiko is up to personal preference, but the messy-haired Kumiko definitely had a slightly improved presence in Part II than Ali did, with actual focus on her own feelings outside of attraction to Daniel, her ambition to become a dancer directly linking to the O-Bon Festival - which in turn related to the Drum technique - as well as the delicately beautiful Tea Ceremony scene and actually contributing to the final fight (granted Ali wouldn’t be allowed to). Also Daniel didn’t try to eat her face which is a general improvement to the romantic subplot, extra applause has to go to Tomita here too because this was legitimately her first role - Shue had her second so that’s impressive too - and both women had good careers going forward. The increased stakes definitely worked in the favour of Part II as well, as sequel culture is forced to do, but by moving to Okinawa (actually filmed in Hawaii) we opened the door to better suit Miyagi’s world while keeping Daniel the fish out of water. I can’t speak too much for appropriation because there is still kinda some ‘white saviour’ undertones but I didn’t feel like Japan was treated negatively in this light, its culture of the O-Bon Festival and the Tea Ceremony was treated with the utmost respect and explained without pandering, the flute music had definitely stepped up its game for the soundtrack as did the imagery. Can also appreciate that Daniel does go for the Crane kick when fighting Chozen but is parried. Added hat tip has to go to costuming too. A lot of costumes would have to have distinct Kamon such as Sato’s twin fish and Miyagi’s bonsai on a lot of their clothing

Between Sato and Miyagi the colours of their clothes often code their emotions towards each other, with Sato usually in grey and Miyagi in white or cream, when Sato and Miyagi prepare for death they are in black and when Sato wants forgiveness he moves to a lighter shade. While Part I also used black and white to differ Johnny and Daniel, Part II put Chozen and Daniel in the more Japanese-themed Red and Blue. While both men wear red, blue and whites at time, Chozen’s clothes almost devolve from the white he debuts in as his darker side comes out before flat out embracing yellow after his chance to prove his honour in the storm is refused (and he’s in white then), while Daniel often moves to Red or red tones even in his blue shirt. Kumiko also moves from white to blue, sometimes even purple, in set up to the final fight to have the primary colours stand out in the colourful crowd of the O-Bon festival, but even in the blue Kumiko had red to pair her connection with Daniel. Also her Yukata at the festival is just stunning, the Great Wave off Kanagawa print is a nice touch.

Anything else we should know? It might not be much else about the film itself I can tell you, but I do appreciate something I’m starting to call ‘The Rocky Connection’ when it comes to Karate Kid. Like Part I’s ‘You’re the Best (Around)’ was shortlisted for Rocky III, Part II’s song ‘Glory of Love’ was shortlisted for Rocky IV’s theme, losing to ‘Hearts on Fire’, Bill Conti also chose to score this film instead of Rocky IV. I like to pair this with Daniel’s Rocky-esque character, he has that same kind of swagger but a lot more naive and childlike. Martin Kove also gets a nod because those bleeding hands were legit, he had an accident on-set and the footage was kept for the final cut. Tamlyn Tomita wasn’t the only film debut for Part II, B.D. Wong of...well, several famous roles including but not limited to Shang in the animated Mulan, Dr. Wu in the Jurassic Park franchise, Hugo Strange in Gotham and many more, also had his debut here in a minor speaking role when he’s handing out flyers for the dance party to Kumiko and Daniel before the Ice Chopping Scene. So, why does it deserve respect A film that adds to a beloved character in a respectful fashion without having really any god awful moments does not deserve a 4.5/10 rating. It may not have as emphatic an ending or as great a villain but it has a captivating plot and a good pace, better stakes and much more emotionally driven and responsive scenes. A lot of effort and dedication went into this film to explore new dimensions of the main characters in a fashion which was enjoyable and at times heartwarming. And characters are given human moments, even Miyagi confesses himself not to be perfect and it keeps each character grounded. Even to this day parts of Part II are remembered fondly rather than the campness that Part III had outside of Terry Silver and his magnificent ponytail, the fondness also continues to reflect in Cobra Kai with homages and fan theories of Daniel going to Okinawa again and even re-encountering Chozen. Not to mention it grossed $113m on a $13m budget and got nominated for a Best Original Song Oscar (losing to Top Gun) Part II was a good and enjoyable film which deserves far more credit than to be rated this low, for that it deserves respect.

[sodaonskateboards]

Falling with Fireworks (Hiyoko x Reader) Circus Au

AN: Wow, I’ve been gone awhile, this was requested long ago. I’m sorry for going silent. I hope you enjoy

Triggers: Hiyoko kinda hits reader with a hammer a lot, but it’s like Team Rocket logic?? Sorry if you aren’t a fan of that.

Hiyoko Saionji was a very cute girl who seemed to hate you. You two were the opening act in the word class Hope’s Peak Circus. Saionji’s job was to charm the guests with beautiful colours and rhythmic fireworks. Graceful, elegant, mesmerizing. Her performance was the stuff of fairytales, convincing the audience to stay for the rest of the show with ease. She also shot you out of a cannon. Or sent you flying with a hit from her overly sized hammer. Her hammer looked like a Mallet of Luck but was far too big to be, and besides, it hasn’t brought you any luck for sure. Saionji was easily irritated, to say the least, and you were often the target of her ire. A small bonk to the head here and there, or nightly, and a grand show of you hurtling through the air from her powerful swing are a little less common. Strangely, it never really hurt. You made sure to stretch often so being stuff into a cannon and other acrobatics weren’t so hard on your poor body. However, this did not completely prevent the aches and pains, but curiously, the hammer, with just the right pressure was almost like a massage of sorts- hitting your body back into shape. Of course, you wouldn’t tell Saionji about this since she would probably stop if it was helpful. 

Tonight was just like any other night, your performance going off without a hitch. You were cleaning up and preparing for tomorrow’s show slowly, slightly celebrating and chatting happily away with your peers. Currently, you were talking to a stage-hand Hajime Hinata, and another headliner, Peko Pekoyama. Hajime was a very good worker and extremely helpful. He wore a simple button-up, gray, work shirt and black trousers with sturdy boots. Peko was still dressed in her show outfit- a navy blue kimono with cool undertones adorned with silver swirls that made waves and stars covered her. While elegant it was still very much practical as she needed to move to wield her mighty blades that are clever enough to cut the light fuse off a bomb before disaster could rear its face. A cigar, that she regularly used in her act, was held steadily between her lips- still lit. 

“Hey,” Hajime took a more serious tone, “are you okay? Y’know with Hiyoko always hitting you?”. It was just like him to care. Peko paused her work and waited for your answer and you realized how bad it looked. You chuckled off the question, “Yeah, I’m fine”. The two stared at you incredulously. “Really I am” you reassured. “Either way, it is unkind of her,” Peko offered. 

You felt two eyes on your back, burning through you like a hot coal, and saw Hajime had felt the stare too. Peko looked towards Hiyoko, unmoved by her glare. Normally, you wouldn’t have worried if Saionji was around during clean up as she usually never could be bothered to help, but tonight was the outlier it appeared. She, like Peko, was still wearing her stage uniform- a marvellous, deep orange kimono wrapped with a soft, green silk obi. The silk was imprinted with white cranes flying over a green sea. The kimono itself had an elaborate pattern with peonies and plum blossoms and lotus flowers spun in gold. Her hair was tied with a red ribbon into a ponytail and decorated with fox pins. Tucked into her obi was a large firework that fuse tailed behind her. Saionji was without her pipe that she used to light your cannon. The pipe was possibly the most impressive piece of her outfit, beautiful carvings wrapped around it leading to it’s slightly bigger than average end. The smoke was always produced a wide variety of different bright colours with the occasional spark popping out. Most importantly, she had her hammer at the ready. 

She stood in silence sizing you up for what was a few seconds, but felt like hours. "Well, does it hurt?" Hiyoko finally asked. A strange hum of uncertainty left your throat without permission. Hajime nervously chuckled in a lame attempt to take the edge off. Peko, in contrast, maintained her usual demeanor. Not that Hiyoko noticed, no, she was too busy staring you down. 

Hajime intervened, "Come on Saionji, don't be like that. I was just curious, I didn't mean any offence".

Peko was as calm as ever, "You or (y/n) shouldn't be the ones apologizing Hajime. Saionji should". 

For the first time in what felt like forever, Hiyoko's eyes were off you and focused on Peko instead. "Why's that?"

Unsurprisingly, Peko didn't back down, "Because you're the one over-reacting and expecting them to walk on eggshells around you."

"I'm over-reacting? Is this an overreaction?" Saionji countered before swinging her hammer and sending you off. After your generous boost upwards into the air and gliding down to the ground in a few minutes or less, you landed onto an empty prairie, quite away from the tents. Your lungs are recovering from the altitude, your hair is a mess, and your legs trying to get over the shock. However, you managed to shake it off quickly.

"Yes," Peko responded without hesitation. 

As enraged as ever, but knowing she would not be able to land a single hit on Peko, Saionji instead cussed up a storm. In the middle of her frenzy, she failed to notice that Peko had finished her cigar and was about to put the flame out. Before the swordswoman could finish though, Saionji turned too sharply and the fuse of the firework somehow managed to touch the cigar without her notice. 

“Um, Hiyoko?” Hajime started nervously.

“What!?” Hiyoko snapped back quickly.

“Your firework is lit,” Hinata answered simply.

Looking behind her to find it was indeed lit, Saionji stared in disbelief, not responding. In a few more seconds, the firework went off, sending Saionji in the air, trailing after you. 

After her short flight, she landed beside you, pouty and grumpy. “Hey Saionji.” you greeted her softly. She did not respond. This worried you, as she normally teased you, and you two could joke around, but silence, the silence was deafening. The two of you started to walk towards the circus in an awkward quiet.

The wind carried a brisk chill to cut through you. You could see the top of the circus tent, the red and white becoming a beacon in the poorly lit country. The stars looked down at the two of you in curiosity, wondering what thing had come so close to touching them, if you squint you could see the outline of Saionji’s firework among the stars. The long, wild grass, where the tops of them reached you, tickled around your legs. 

“You would tell me right?” She finally responded.

“What?”, you were confused, “Tell you what?”

That seemed to annoy her further, she stopped walking to look you in the eyes, “You would tell me if you were hurt, right?”

“I, I …”, words alluded you right then, “I- Why? Why does it matter?”

“Because I would want to know,” Saionji stated with conviction.

“Why? Why would you want to know?”

Saionji paused for a moment, then whispered “I don’t want to really hurt you.” She began to trail off, losing the courage to keep talking.

“I still don’t get it, you act that way towards everyone all the time.”

“But you’re you! You’re not them, you’re you and I care about you, okay?!” She was exasperated and on the verge of tears. You were shocked. Your tongue was as still as the rest of your body. You looked into Saionji’s defeated face, sighed softly, “I didn’t know”. 

“When I see you, I just feel so strange and full and just the need to do something- anything. I have all this energy around you, and then you say something and the feeling gets worse, so I just swing.” She disorderly explained.

“What do you think of that?” Despite her stature, you never saw her look so small. She looked at you, for the first time, to give her approval while tears pushed their way down her cheeks without her permission. Looking at the night sky, you carefully contemplated your next words.

“I’m surprised, for sure. But I see a sky of stars, and I know that you managed to make it even brighter. For a minute you managed to be the most illuminating thing in it, without even trying. And it isn’t just the sky either, but everywhere you go, you are the most beautiful thing there, Hiyoko.”

Hiyoko digested your words for a moment expressionless. A small, sweet laugh came from her, and she wiped her tears. Then Hiyoko gave you a loving smile and hurried towards you- embracing you, which you eagerly returned. The two of you began laughing together, why? Neither of you knew, but it felt nice to laugh together. She mumbled into your shoulder a promise to never hurt you again. You disentangled from each other and began to walk back to the circus. Hand in hand, suddenly the wind no longer bothered you.

[writinginthesparetime]

A place far away pt7

pairing: actor!Park Haejin x student!reader

Warnings: famous!au ; college!au ; litte bit of swearing?

genre: fluff ;

chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

(If needed I will add more warnings and upload the genre tags in next chapters)

Summary:

So that’s how all started.

It was a rainy day in Seoul and I was the new girl in town. Precisely the new girl in college, just moved from europe to study abroad.

Little did I knew Seoul was not the only korean thing I’d fell in love with.

————————————————

21st November

“Lillian! Your caffelatte!”

I looked up from my books just a moment, only to see a girl holding two cups in her hands desperately trying to get her friend’s attention.

This cafeteria in the campus often looked like this: loud and busy. I didn’t enjoy spending my time there to study, but that morning only the idea of staying home made me sick.

I spent the last two weeks studying for three exams, now focusing on the last one of those. Class? Chemical behind the skincare.

I went back to my notes, looking at graphics and formulas well written, trying to revise some useful acids for peeling and the benefits of vitamin c for our skin.

I sipped my coffee and looked at the time. Almost 11 o’clock.

It was so weird to think that the whole campus had the free morning. Someone definitely decided to spend it in bed sleeping, someone just enjoyed their free time and someone, like me, chose to keep on studying.

I never wanted to be the best student, but indeed I wanted to prove myself I could. I just needed to tell myself so, and actually work hard. Luckily, lessons were interesting and I found myself being capable of getting on the top of class.

Even cooking class was satisfying.

In the table next to me, a group of girls were chatting loudly, all smiling and well dressed. They were talking about the real reason why morning classes were cancelled and most of the girls went on campus anyways. The reason they all wore their best dresses and used tons of makeup.

An idol.

Or someone famous.

Again.

Yes, if months ago there were some weird visit by an entertainment company, that morning was the confirmation of a collaboration with the college.

So, an idol in that exact moment was in one of my college’s class filming some stupid advertisement about some stupid product, probably to attract teenagers who are still influenced by whoever is in the commercial.

And it worked just fine.

I sighed lightly reading again the same phrase on my notes. “What’s uva and uvb rays? And how uv sun rays damage our skin?”

Let’s say in the morning, especially on these cold ones, the last thing I think of is putting sunscreen on.

Just waken up then, after embracing a sky full of clouds, that’s definitely not my first thought.

And suddenly I thought about Nana who was surely still sleeping in her warm bed.

I lost every kind of concentration, desolated I closed my books and stopped looking outside the window.

I still had some time before the first lesson started, but it was so obvious that I wasn’t able to keep on revising.

This exam looked infinitely long to study and I still had one to go before the end of the year.

And then I suddenly started thinking about that lesson, one month and a half ago. About that speech the teacher made, about working in a company.

I sank into the chair, trying to make myself as little as possible.

I didn’t know what to do with this information. All my classmates saw the list and picked their favourite company. Some girls, after reading important company names, even started to study more.

And I was the only one in the class who hasn’t choose yet. Well, I didn’t even decided about doing this work or not.

I was one of the best students, suitable for the opportunity, but I was afraid about the whole working and going to classes and studying for exams at the same time. I could have just failed.

Plus, I really couldn’t understand why we had to choose a company, I could really work everywhere they wanted.

I snorted.

I knew my time was almost over, I couldn’t keep on procrastinating. A teacher already stopped me in the hallways to know if I made up my mind. I simply run away.

And then I suddenly thought about the no-boys rule, that has been recently broken by Nana a week ago at a really late halloween party. She kept on saying that she didn’t really broke our promise since she make out with a girl, but we both knew the truth.

On the other hand, I didn’t date anyone, girl or boy. I kinda made friends with other classmates, even ended up in a project group with Jackson, who kept being an acquaintance.

That’s it.

That’s it, like any other Hae-jin story then.

I looked up.

Y/n, stop thinking about him.

Yet, sometimes his kind smile came back to mind.

And even how we never met in the last month and a half, after bumping into each other almost every week.

Slowly the voices in the cafe became quieter and many people left, dispersing in the campus.

I sipped my coffee and I saw myself reflected in the window.

My eyes were tired from the lack of sleep and my cheeks bright pink because of the cold November.

I wrapped myself in my blue hoodie, judging again my morning decision to choose comfort over style. Countless times Nana tried to find any item in my wardrobe to save my outfits, that are so basic to her.

Anyways I did find a trick: just wear an elegant coat over every outfit and suddenly I didn’t look like a mess. Not completely.

I noted mentally to go shopping as soon as my mother sent me some money.

I got up picking my things up and throwing them inside the backpack and, against my will, I exited the cafeteria heading to class to revise the next coming exam. I wasn’t prepared for it, neither for the day ahead.

While i was quickly walking i kept hearing people chat about what was going on in college, and i even saw some people randomly run through the campus, going wherever they heard the idol’s last location was.

And it was just one of those crowds that crushed me. I stumbled, getting hit by thousands hands and shoulders that tried to get me out of the way.

I was almost falling when I ended up crushing a girl, she quickly grabbed me by my shoulders, holding me.

“Everything’s okay?’ She asked worried.

This girl definitely looked older than me, well I could guess she wasn’t going to college anymore. Her neat appearance made me feel ashamed. Everything about her made me think she was one of those girls who really treated herself good.

“I’m fine, thank you.” I said softly and bowed at her. She took a step back, feeling the embarrassment between the two of us.

With her right hand, closed into holding two different phones, she moved a lock of hair with her pinkie.

Only then I noticed she was holding, with her other hand, a big brown leather briefcase. She kinda looked like a business woman, only her windbreaker didn’t suit her style: an huge stuffed one, long ‘till under her knees, with an embroidered word on her chest, probably the name of the company she was working for.

She quickly excused herself and left, not giving me enough time to read that word. I only saw the logo, made by three little triangles that reminded me of the three Giza’s pyramids.

“Y/n!” I heard my name being called while trying to walk in the hallway. “Wait, y/n!”

I turned around to where I thought this voice came, only to see Nana, of course, running to me. In a couple of seconds she joined me and, well, actually she bumped into me, with the biggest hug.

“Y/n-ah, you have no idea how it’s so good to wake up late, i feel so fresh!” Saying so she slapped her cheeks lightly.

“Lucky you.” I looked up.

“Oh my god, what are those? Eye-bags?”.

“I haven’t been sleeping well lately.” I said shrugging my shoulders.

We walked side by side, in silence. Nana knew my weird sleeping habits, she knew it’s been weeks since I had a proper full night of sleep and, luckily, she knew when was the time to not say a word.

And I didn’t have to tell her more.

In the hallways people kept walking and talking, even louder than any other day, it was becoming annoying.

Everyone was frenetically moving, girls stopping mid walking looking at their phones, little half runs and continuously checking their hair.

I was getting curious to know who was the reason of this whole mess.

“Hold this: I have a concealer that matches your skin color.” Nana suddenly gave me her make-up trousse. We have so differently skin color, even different undertones, but I wasn’t shocked at all: we often tried make-up products together, even sharing them for fun. “If it’s not your color, you’re good enough to make it work it out. I know lately you’re not into this, but your eye-bags could literally scare the teacher.”

I smiled at her, knowing that she was trying to make me feel better and she definitely didn’t want me to look like a zombie.

We left in front of the class door, she headed inside to take seats while I just tried to remember where the closest toilet was.

Needless to say that I didn’t know at all: campus and buildings were huge, every lesson was taken in a different classroom and I still couldn’t orient myself. I only followed the signs.

I found myself walking for the whole hallway and after turning twice, fifty metres ahead, I ended up in a blind alley, with some doors on the sides.

Above one of them, a sign with a drawing of a lady. And behind that same door a group of girl exited the toilet. Coming across, we bowed slightly.

All of the sudden, behind myself I heard a soft sound, getting slowly louder until the rustle clearly turned into quick steps in the hallways.

I turned around confused, but I could only see me and the other four girls.

I was so focused on that sound which was gettin louder and kinda deafening because of the echo on the walls, that I didn’t notice I was slowly going backwards.

And when I turned, I didn’t have the time to clearly see the person I bumped into.

Raising my gaze, I saw some details.

A black button down shirt. A strong arm. Fine jawline.

And then the shoulder I literally crush into.

The man was taller than me so his shoulder was at the same height as my face, and because of my abrupt movement I ended up hitting him.

I got hurt on the side of my face, a strong smack at my right ear.

Suddenly my head started spinning, there was a loud strong whistle that kept shutting my thoughts. I stumbled untill I lied to the closest wall.

Every sound was padded. I brought my hands to my head, I could literally heard my blood angrily pulsing.

I didn’t know what was around me anymore. My vision was blurred, it was hard for me to focus on anything.

I ended up squeeze my eyes multiple times.

The man stopped, and I only knew because I couldn’t hear any close steps.

My legs were shaking and the whistle still there, not letting me think straight.

“Oh.” A manly voice that sounded so far away. “I am sorry.” His cold and formal words made me shiver.

The only thing I was thinking about was to find a quite place to sit, any place.

And then, like someone opened a door with air stream, steps and voices got louder.

The whistle left, letting me finally hear but every little sound now was painful as a stab. I looked up trying to recall the place, feeling the rough wall behind me.

I was so shocked to see a crowd of people coming towards me, and a man I could clearly see because he was taller than anyone. That man. He just run out to another hallway.

I didn’t see more because once I recognised the toilet door I only thought about laying on the little couch each bathroom in campus had.

I moved quickly.

I closed my eyes while sinking on it. Slowly I started feeling better, no more dizziness. My heartbeat was regular now.

Outside, finally the silence.

It still took me a couple of minutes before getting up. I decided to splash my face with some cold water and suddenly I felt a little better, more awake.

I could still clearly see how sick I looked.

Maybe it was time for that concealer to save me.

I quickly applied some makeup, trying to hide my dark eye-bags. I fixed my hair tying them up into a ponytail to look more clean.

“You look awful.” I whispered.

I exited the toilet and redo the same way backwards. Empty hallways and silences.

Only my steps echoing between the yellowish walls.

Three times I bumped into someone that morning. Three differs ways, three different people, three different pair of arms touched me.

Hold.

Loved.

Hurt.

Slightly bent over, I got closer to Nana who took a seat in the middle raw.

I tried to be as quiet as possible and to be the more invisible I could. The teacher already started the lesson and he was writing fast on the blackboard.

“Y/n, what happened?”

Nana asked after looking at the clock on the wall, and then at me. I let myself fall onto the chair, giving back her trousse.

“I don’t think I am feeling good, after class I am going home.”

I was slowly walking through the campus, heading to the exit while thinking about taking a long nap before getting back to study.

I needed to rest.

And i needed a painkiller for my headache.

“Miss. Y/l/n! Miss!” I heard a door slamming and quick steps. Beside me, my history of makeup’s teacher was closing our distance.

“Yes?” I asked. Behind him, inside the hallway people were talking and looking at us.

“I am truly sorry to disturb you, but I needed to know if you decided about the job. As I have already told you, this is the last week to sign up.”

“I am really thankful for your interest, but I haven’t had the time to look at the list, so I think I’ll have t-“ I couldn’t end the phrase because the teacher, after looking up for a folder and finding it inside his briefcase, interrupted me.

“Here it is.” He gave me the folder smiling.

“Honestly, I still won’t have the time to choose, I’m too busy studying for exams.”

“Miss y/l/n, that’s not the first time we talked about this.”

“I am truly sorry, I don’t think I’ll be able to study and work and attend classes, all together.”

“Miss, I never thought of you as a lazy person, but you know better than me that classes are ending soon and there are just a few exams to be taken. Do you really want to risk to lose this opportunity?”

“What if I can’t do it?”

“Miss, you’re on the top five of the class, we are positive you’ll be able to make it just fine. And if you won’t, we do not expect you to pass every exam this semester.”

“But it will be humiliat-“

“It will be more embarrassing to lose such an opportunity to work with professionals. I don’t want to force you, but I think you’ll regret this in the future.”

He kept smiling the whole time, trying maybe to reassure me, while his words were sharp.

I really just wanted to go home, forget about everything and sleep. Thinking too much made my headache stronger.

I raised my gaze, ignoring his face. Behind him, I could see some people staring.

“All I ask you is to think about it.”

I grabbed the folder and hold it tight.

I just needed to resist one more week, and wait for the deadline.

But the idea of meeting persistent teachers made me feel sick. More than I already was.

“Are you feeling good?” He asked worried, taking on step closer.

“Not really. Teacher, I don’t really have time to choose between the companies right now.”

“I have a proposal. Actually, you can even meet them now if yo-“ He stopped talking mid sentence. “A-are you feeling good? You look pale, do you need some water?”

“Thank you teacher, I just need to go home and rest.” I quickly smiled.

“Please, think about my proposal. I actually highlighted the company in the list and at the end of the folder I gave you some informations.”

He sounded so noisy.

“Okay okay. I surrender, I accept. Please send me via mail al the papers I need to fill and I’ll gave it back to you as soon as possible. But now, I really need to go.”

I quickly bowed and left, heading to the closest bus stop.

The headache was painful as ever. I found myself crying on my way home.

————————————————

A/n:

I am truly sorry, it took me ages to write this chapter. I keep on revising it because I think it’s kinda dark and sad: it resembles what happened in the last weeks.

AnywaysI hope you still like it, and please dm me if you want to be tagged in next chapters!

Look forwards to the next ones, they’re gonna be gooooooood!!

[dm-foodqueen]

Selfish

Tereasa tries to ask Nikolas about his dreams for the future.

„If I learned anything, then it’s that I am selfish. And that my selfishness is cruel. And ugly. But I can’t help it. Maybe he was right. Maybe I caused his dreams to shatter. But I wanted to hear him say it. I wanted it to proof a point. I’m cruel. I’m guilty. I can not fix this. Happiness and time really are such fragile things. Dulai'ke, if I can’t heal him, I don’t think I’m worthy of carrying your seed.”

_____________________________

Tereasa Sykes and her fiancé, Nikolas Sandler, were sitting on top of the roof of the Blue Order. They were looking out on the Blue Gardens beneath them, watching the people come and go. She enjoyed being alone with him, but he was always so quiet. By the end of the day, she would have to return home. She would not be able to be with him - for a whole year. It pained her. It must be hard for him too. Right? Her eyes wandered over to him. The last time she had seen Nick, his hair had been this short, scruffy mess. Now, it was longer, even longer on his right side and pulled back into a ponytail. He looked cute. She chuckled a bit as she pulled her legs closer to her body to lay her head on them. “So Nick, do you think when all this is over… Y’know…”, the girl stopped. She felt the blood rush into her head. The boy looked over to her, his intelligent eyes searching hers as she quickly hid her face behind her long, dark brown hair. “When we are married…”, she spoke these words softly, as in a dream. She still couldn’t believe that she had been chosen. Sure, there were political interests behind this marriage. But she wanted that boy. She wanted to be near him, she wanted to be there for him. Tereasa sheepishly brushed her hair out of her face and behind her ears to face her love again. “Do you think we finally be happy?”. The boy had watched her silently, his face showing no real emotion other than slight worry as she had stopped talking before. But now his expression changed, back to this blank, tired slate he always used like a mask. “We do not get to be anything. We are not supposed to feel anything.”, his voice sounded rational, but she could swear she heard a tired undertone in it as well. He probably had to explain the same thing to his weird group of friends so many times by now. “I know. I know…”, but she could not leave it at that. She wanted to talk about their future together. So she scooched closer to the red haired boy. As she entered his personal space, she could see how he suddenly tensed up. He leaned away from her, in an attempt to give her more room. She quickly whispered “No, it’s fine. You can stay” and waited a moment for Nikolas to return to his old pose. His expression has shifted to being confused. He looked at her intensely, to figure out how to act or what to do. It was as if he studied her. What are they teaching him? He is like a dog, waiting for an order… Tereasa was slightly confused, but Nikolas being awkward near her wasn’t anything new. It was kinda charming and cute. It was refreshing. It showed her that he wasn’t just an emotionless puppet. She loved that part of him. The real him. He was a mess, he was anxious and confused and she loved him so much. As soon as the boy was able to relax again, she leaned over to put her head on his shoulder. They stayed together like this for a few minutes before she decided to break the silence again. “I don’t know how you do it.”, she said, sitting back up straight again. She turned her body to be able to face him more easily. “But I just have all those emotions and I have to let them out somehow!”, she said excitedly. She wanted to raise his mood. “Maybe your training is more effective than mine?”, this girl was determined to start a conversation. She wanted him to talk to her so bad. She was leaving soon! But her excitement quickly faded to worry as she watched Nikolas’ reaction. Instead of getting excited he suddenly looked like he was in pain. His shoulders were tense again and he wasn’t able to keep eye contact with her. He quickly looked down to the street and let out a forced “I um… I do not think so.”. Time to change the topic and quick! “Do you know what you wanna do? After the training ends, I mean.”, she said, forcing an enthusiastic tone in her voice. Maybe the present sucked. But their future was something they could work towards together. It’s what kept her going. She wanted this so bad. She wanted him to want it as well. But he still seemed to be anxious, he wasn’t looking at her. So she continued talking. “I thought a long time about it. About what I would change and do after my so-called legendary awakening, hehe.”, she said, putting the awakening part in quotation marks with her hands. Nikolas finally looked at her again. He seemed worried, but he also didn’t want to be impolite. With a nod he asked her to continue. “Ok, ready? The big reveal!”, Tereasa leaned back from him a bit and put her hands together in front of her. She studied his expression for a short moment, before spreading her arms out wide and yelling: “I wanna travel!”. After that, she quickly covered her mouth with her hands, looking at Nikolas with big, excited eyes. He seemed to be studying her as well. She couldn’t tell if he was interested in her dream, her story or herself, but he was looking at her and this was more than enough. She wanted to share her world with him. “I wanna see the world we are supposed to cleanse. I wanna meet the people we are supposed to heal.”, She used her fingers to count her wishes as she went on and on about her future life. For a few seconds she could swear she saw Nikolas smile a bit. But his expression quickly changed back to a slightly worried look. So she leaned in closer to him again and started to whisper. “I know I can’t outrun this. But I think this way I might finally be free.”. Nikolas led out a quiet sigh, followed by a short chuckle. It warmed her heart and she couldn’t even try to hide her blushing face this time. “You sound so much like her…”, he whispered, a soft smile on his face. “Think they will let you? Travel, I mean.”. “Why wouldn’t they, I would still do as I’m told. So what about you? What do you wanna do?”, she asked, her eyes studying Nikolas’ smile. But that smile faded as quickly as it had appeared. He looked at her with this tired expression again. “After the awakening I will life to serve this world. There is no such thing as free will.”, he wasn’t even looking at her anymore. As he spoke, he turned his head to face the slowly setting sun in front of them. She searched for something to say. This couldn’t be how he really felt. “But… you must want something, right?”, Tereasa’s heart sank. How could he not be excited about his future, about finally being free? How could he not be happy, knowing he would live with her? “Yes.”, he was still not facing her. In fact, as he said that, his voice broke and he turned his head away from her completely. “So… what is it?”, she just had to know. If it was something she could give him, she would do anything to make it a reality. The boy shifted his pose and hugged his legs while turning his head to face her again. He was anxious. His eyes were looking at her nervously. “You must understand – I can not put it into words. As soon as I do, I would disobey the greater will of the gods.”. At this point, his entire body language was screaming at her to stop. But she couldn’t. She wanted to know it. She at least wanted to know if she could give it to him. “But… You feel that you want something. In that case your desire already exists within you. Speaking it out loud won’t suddenly break it. At least let me know if it is something I can give to you!”, she wanted to cheer him up. She wanted to help him. “As soon as anyone finds out, they will do anything in their power, so it doesn’t come true. As punishment for my selfishness.”, he started looking around on the roof nervously. “Who would do that?”, now she was just plain worried. There were no reasons for him to get so anxious about simply saying what was on his mind. He was aloud to want. He should want. She wanted to help him. She wanted to show him that wanting something was a human thing to do, it just meant being alive. She gently put her right hand on his cheek, her engagement ring softly glowing – a sign that the other half was nearby. “Nick. It’s just me here with you. I would never turn on you. You can be honest with me, I am the same as you.”, she whispered calmly. Oh how she wanted to kiss him. She wanted to hold him, to be there for him. But she couldn’t, not yet. Nikolas took a few deep breathes before he quietly started talking, his voice breaking ever so often. “I want… for Nila to be free. I want her to be able to leave the order, I want her as far away from Danish as possible, I want her to be able to start a new life somewhere.” The boy looked physically exhausted after this. He was shaking, covering his mouth with one of his hands while holding the other one over his head in a protective manner. His reaction worried her. That wasn’t what she had wanted. And she couldn’t find a way out of the situation she had brought upon her love. “Nila… is that girl you’re always with, right?”, she had heard him say that name before. “That’s a nice wish. If I can, I will help you with that.”, she said, giving him a kiss on his forehead. ___________________________________________

Lady Tereasa didn’t know how she was supposed to react after she heard the news. Nila had died in the war. Far, far away from where she could protect her, from where she could keep her promise to her love. She had failed him yet again. Guilt rushed into her head and almost blinded her. She had let him down yet again. He really must hate her. He was right. He always was. This was her fault. In a way, she had killed that girl. And she couldn’t do anything to make it right again. The guilt started to eat away at her sanity, leaving it’s black markings on her skin, starting from the right side of her head, flowing down until it reached her hand and she couldn’t feel her arm anymore. She looked down at her hand, alone in her room. The old engagement ring was still on her finger. She didn’t deserve to wear it any longer. But her selfishness was stronger than the guilt. She couldn’t take it off. She couldn’t give up on that dream she once had. What did I do?

[willowbilly]

My very, very, extremely belated offering for the wonderful @fataldrum for Fandom Trumps Hate. The request was for some Marlana, and then I was stupid enough to try adding... plot? Kinda? So. 

Summary:

“Shut up,” Hannibal asks with infernal innocence, eyes twinkling, “or tell you? I cannot reasonably be expected to simultaneously accomplish both.”

The revolver's double-action, so cocking back the hammer is a convenience, not a prerequisite, to firing. Margot therefore only needs to bother with slipping her index finger in place against the trigger before she's advancing with swift, menacing strides, halting and visibly refraining from committing violence upon Hannibal's person only because she's neared too close to the table to comfortably retain her strategic advantage. And because Will just as swiftly yanks Hannibal's chair back from the other side so as to give himself enough room to bodily insert himself between Hannibal and Margot's line of fire, the maneuver brisk and businesslike and hard enough to make the candles gutter and to seemingly give Hannibal whiplash, Will's mouth a sour, resignedly put-upon line.

Or: Alana and Margot's domestic bliss in their scenic Spanish getaway is rudely interrupted. Will just wants to clear things up without Hannibal getting them both shot.

It’s also under the cut!

Margot, Alana thinks, is careful not to know her own strength. She never finds the end of it.

This is a dry heat. Maryland would always seem to have more humidity the higher the mercury climbed, sometimes so thick it felt like the weight of damp feathers on the skin, but here every microscopic drop of moisture feels sucked out of the air beneath the blinding swelter of the midsummer sun and its bald blue sky. It shines through the wide wicker brim of Alana's sunhat in dazzling dapples, UV rays seeking warm skin, sweat making her sunglasses slip a little down her nose with the rolling steps of the horse beneath her. It's a good day, good enough to risk tackling the rigors of a saddle so she can accompany Margot on her afternoon ride; the twinge in her spine isn't agonizing but merely sharply uncomfortable.

It's for this reason that Margot put her on the steady chestnut gelding, the one with the smoothest gait, and kept the feistier gray stallion for herself. He has as many muscles as a Michelangelo painting and likes to break into a jarring trot without warning, all arching neck and stomping hooves, a failed dressage horse with all the talent but none of the discipline. Margot always eases him back with a calm, authoritative hand, unyielding as iron but never cruel, never even startled. She said once that she likes a little headstrong liveliness in her mount. Nurtures it as proof of spirit, unbroken. Soul untamed.

Alana's always been a creature of evolution. Adapting to stressors. Even when hardening her heart and cladding herself in the cold armor of ruthlessness it was a reaction to betrayal. An excising of her own compassionate gullibility, a calculated rebirth, whereas Margot seems as though she's always remained fundamentally unchanged, a surface riddled with brittle cracks keeping safe an indomitable core buried unreachably deep within, adamant endurance holding her together right from her very conception in a womb already poisoned by the miasma of her predecessor. And yet they are, the both of them, survivors. Ineffably identical.

“Head in the clouds?” Margot calls, pulling up alongside her. The massive gray gives her almost half a foot on Alana, and she sways in easy synchronization with him, long braid swinging free down her tanned back, sharp, knife-sculpted shoulder blades and the straight line of her spine bared by her halter top. A fine layer of dirt is just beginning to collect over the high shine of her black riding boots, and Alana allows her gaze to linger a touch along the flex of Margot's thighs beneath the sinfully sleek, formfitting cloth of her breeches on the way back up to her face, and then further up, to the sky.

“It would be if there were any clouds to be had,” Alana says.

Margot tips her head back to likewise consider the spotless blue above them, raising a hand to shade her eyes and peering between the cracks of her fingers, sunlight falling in warped stripes over her face as she squints. This is her relaxed, with neither threat nor expectation trapping her beneath the boot heel of a predetermined, oppressive role. She seems more saturated with color than when they first met, out here in the open air, magnetically hale and vibrant, the pinch of her large, expressive eyes and the new tawny undertone to her complexion, the unguarded looseness to her limbs and the casual slept-in sloppiness of her braid, all imparting a nagging impression of feral confidence.

“Would you look at that. Not a one,” Margot drawls thoughtfully, before drawing herself back down and taking up the reins with both hands again as the gray tries to take advantage of her preoccupation to speed up. Alana laughs at the seeming jauntiness of his attempt, the snort and shake of his head as his rider effortlessly regains control.

It's something to behold when Margot dons her helmet and takes him through the course at full speed, lifted off the saddle and bent over his neck, petite and dark against the pale, dappled bulk of her eager would-be warhorse, poised so lightly it seems as though she may take flight at any moment. One time the gray's neck rammed into her chin as she had him make a leap and Alana's heart stopped until the gray came to a halt and she saw Margot uncurl from her defensive position of pain, gingerly palpating her chin as she dismounted. She'd had a livid, puffy splotch of a bruise which didn't fade for weeks and she would grin every time Alana stared at it for too long in concern, would gasp when Alana kissed and bit at it. Refused to cover it with makeup, as though she were proud.

An old baby-blue pickup trundles rounds the bend ahead of them and Alana falls behind Margot as they sidle single-file to the right side of the dirt road, leaving the left clear for the truck to pass. It's the same color as the sky, like a piece of it broke free and transformed from two-dimensional into three, the interior a cockpit of amber shadow. There's a familiarity which strikes Alana out of nowhere when she sees the driver's arm draped out the open window, the particular angle his hand lifts at when he sends them a polite, perfunctory wave of acknowledgment, but then he's passing them and the cloud of dust and hot wind in the vehicle's wake has risen over her, pushing it out of her mind.

She pulls a crisp cotton handkerchief from her pocket and covers her mouth and nose until the air is clear again.

“A little farther?” Margot asks, bringing the gray over to pace in a circle around Alana's chestnut, grinning hopefully.

“Shark,” Alana remarks, laughing, twisting in the saddle to watch her and then pressing her knuckles into the stab of pain in her lower back as if to push it back in and hold it in place. “I'll last at least another quarter mile before I'll have to head back.”

“Homebody,” Margot volleys back, because she craves the openness and solitude of the outdoors with a strength Alana can't always understand, probably has ever since long horse rides were the only thing which would let her stay out for hours in the quasi-safety of the wooded side of the Verger estate and away from the toxic bosom of her family's mansion, and they've talked with each other, about how Alana wants Margot to disregard the limits her body's injury puts on her, how she'd rather Margot tease her than flutter over her in concern.

“You're free to go on alone, you know,” Alana says.

“No I'm not,” Margot says, affectionately dismissive, and nothing else.

Morgan runs up to them after Applesauce when they finally get back, his clumsy sprint easily outstripped that of their overexcited dog's, a sheet of paper flapping in his hand and the tutor trailing sedately after them both.

He's drawn them a family portrait, all three of them together in crayon and watercolor, holding hands and smiling. Margot hoists him onto her hip and exclaims in suitably impressed tones as she pores over every detail of his art, bouncing him higher every now and then to keep him from slipping as Applesauce circles around them, tongue lolling and claws clicking as she slowly settles down. Morgan's getting too large to hold up for long, now, his legs dangling down almost to Margot's knees and the hems of his pants hiked up to reveal his meticulously turned-down socks, rolled carefully in half above the matte salmon-pink Mary Janes he'd selected himself after wandering into the girl's aisle of the shoe store and which they'd bought despite the apparently offended sensibilities of the clerk and her sputtering defense of gendered clothing, her argument swiftly and mercilessly overturned.

Alana cards her hand through Morgan's hair and he tips his head back to look at her upside down, making sure that she's paying attention, seeking approval and beaming when he sees it in her face. Bright and uncomplicated. He takes after Alana, an intelligent, sensitive, and somewhat serious child, and whenever he sees either of them after they've been gone even a short time he seems to glow with enthusiasm. Always creating, always reaching for connection.

The day Morgan was born and she handed him to Margot for the first time, and Margot stared and stared, reverent tears welling in her eyes as if she were witness to a miracle, was the happiest moment of Alana's life.

“I can't help but half-believe we've planted the seed of our own destruction,” Margot had said one night, soon after the insemination, her head resting on the as-yet flat plane of Alana's stomach, the fall of her hair tickling Alana's side and her ear to Alana's flesh as though listening for the fitful slumber of blossoming fetal life.

“Destruction isn't so far off from salvation,” Alana mused, not quite reassuringly. “Just look what we did to get here.”

Margot scraped her nails up in a curve along Alana's ribs, a little harder with each pass, going from ticklish to stinging. “I'll never regret having done it. I'd do it again. I will do it again, if I have to.”

“And if it comes to that I'll help you. But it won't.” She stilled Margot's hand, lacing their fingers together and pulling them over to rest beside Margot's cheek. “Because this child is ours. Not Mason's. Not anyone's but ours, our baby, our little boy, and he'll never, ever get ahold of him now.”

Margot's breathing was a damp fluttering of soft heat against Alana's wrist, and though she couldn't see it Alana knew that Margot was staring off into the dark, unblinking, with that peculiar crocodilian opacity glazing the sea-glass green of her eyes. It seemed a long time before Margot moved to mold her lips against Alana's knuckles and then release her hand so that she could slide her palm flat against Alana's stomach, fingers outstretched, pressing slightly as if she wanted to sink into Alana's body, wanted to touch the pulsing, velvety-wet viscera packed so neatly within.

“I trust you,” Margot had murmured, and from that Alana was made to understand that Margot had never trusted anyone else as she did Alana, and that, before Alana, she'd thought she never would.

Trust. That's what she sees so unwaveringly in their son whenever he sees them and smiles. That's what her and Margot's relationship is built on, its foundation that first leap of faith, their alliance in the face of shared danger. Trust in each other and in the future. In the belief that they have a future, that their sins and past missteps won't catch up to them and cut the threads of their fate short with an indifferent snip of golden shears.

Existence, love... all tenuous, sometimes fleeting things. But, Alana thinks, studying the crude but whimsical simplicity of Morgan's domestic tableau... well worth the hope.

She wakes to Applesauce barking stridently from the garage and Morgan's small hand insistently shaking her shoulder and his face very close to hers as he whispers over the hypnotically echoing music of the ambient electronica sleep CD drifting softly from the master bedroom's sound system, a harsh urgency in his high, piping voice, “Mom, there's someone in the dining room.”

Alana's blood instantly runs cold with adrenaline, a sensation like ice water rushing through her veins all the way from her prickling scalp to her toenails, and in a burst of movement she kicks the covers from the bed entirely, fumbling for the smartphone on the nightstand and shoving it against Margot's chest as she rouses beside them, still flailing after the sheets, half-asleep. Alana also summarily shoves Morgan against Margot's chest as soon as she's upright and has caught the phone, blinking owlishly in the dim near-dawn light, but even as she clutches Morgan to her she does not scream, doesn't make any sound of terror at all. Fear is too familiar a companion to disrupt her composure.

“Call help and get to the panic room,” Alana orders, a sharp hiss with barely any breath behind it, and then Margot does try to say something, makes a grab for Alana's arm but Alana tears herself free and slips from the bed and out the door, her feet light over the carpet and her fingertips buzzing. She has to remind herself not to hold her breath, sprints on her tiptoes to the entryway to retrieve Morgan's metal baseball bat when she realizes the handgun is still locked in the safe in the master bedroom. She should go back and get it. Should go lock herself in the panic room with her family after getting it, wait for the policía in relative safety.

But she knows who it is. The only person it would be. And her traitorous feet carry her without conscious will to the doorway of the dining room, palms sweating around the grip of the baseball bat as she lifts it over her shoulder, ready, her steps faltering as she rounds the corner and comes to a dumbfounded stop right there, in full view, no advantage of surprise and no attack, because there he is. Back from the dead after all, straightening from the row of white candles he's finished lighting on the dining table and smiling warmly at her as he shakes out the match with a graceful, absent flick and sets it down. Marking her focus, he extends his arms parallel to the table, hands palm-up and his elbows crooked down so as to hold them slightly bowed in a calculated pose of benevolent iconoclasm, the graciously inclined carriage of his head a perfect mimicry of a humble saint's.

“It is good to see your bravery is as unhampered by wisdom as ever, Alana,” Hannibal says, and even with bleached hair hacked close to his scalp and a full, grizzled silver beard obscuring his jaw, the cold, deep pits of his eyes are exactly the same, as is his voice, a deep tide of thunder poetry resonating in the worn and torn calcifications of her battered battle-scarred bones.

He's on the other side of the room, the table between them. She raises the bat, swiveling to present a smaller target area as she chokes up on the grip and scans for any sign of a weapon on his person and finds none, sucks in air to say something.

“Backhanded compliment, much?” Will chides from Hannibal's side, and Alana flinches, hard, words dying in her throat at his voice as well, at how she hadn't seen him behind Hannibal at all until he spoke, swathed as he is in the tremendous cloak of Hannibal's shadow. He's turned away, tracing the shape of the bronze stag statue gleaming on the side table beside him, his fingertips pattering in a little nervous dance over the antler tines. His hand is just far enough out beyond Hannibal's shadow to catch the candlelight, and it suddenly seems like those, the very tips of his fingers, are the only parts of him which are solid, the only things anchoring him here. An apparition so tenuously tethered to the realm of the corporeal that he threatens to slip silently away with nary a sigh of effort at any moment.

Rather like the dubious persistence of Alana's continued wellbeing in Hannibal's presence.

The bodyguards have yet to appear, and while the private security they employ is valued for discretion this would be pushing it. Either they've been paid off or they're dead.

Probably dead.

“You didn't call ahead,” Alana says.

“Sorry,” says Will, actually managing to come across as somewhat abashed. Hannibal lowers his arms, leans forward to splay his fingertips on the table and rest his weight on them. This, worryingly, puts him in position to vault straight over the table towards her should he so desire. Alana decides to visualize his smug face as a baseball should worst come to worst. “We just wanted a chance to talk to you.”

“And that's all you want to do?” Alana asks. She's trying not to let her knees lock in case she needs to run but they feel shaky already, unsteady as a newborn fawn's. Her sweaty hands are starting to itch from how tightly they're clenched, the way dead, moist things deprived of air dream of rot. “Talk?”

Will tilts his head, and then turns it sharply, zeroing in on Margot as she comes through the doorway with her arms up in a textbook-perfect isosceles stance, on the flashy, malevolent gleam of the nickel-plated revolver coming up to aim at Hannibal.

Alana sees Hannibal tense in preparation, readying himself to leap, and the gun seems very close by, so close that she can note with an oddly detached hyper-clarity that the hammer is cocked, that Margot's knuckles are standing out against her skin, that she's squeezing the trigger, millimeters away from firing into Hannibal's chest. In the strained corner of her eye Will moves, grabbing the neck of the stag statue and hefting it in a brutally short, economic arc.

Alana makes another instinctive, foolhardy decision.

She drops the bat and takes urgent hold of Margot's wrist, transferring her moment of restraint into Margot, and Margot hesitates just enough to ease up on the trigger as the base of the statue connects with a solid thunk to the back of Hannibal's head.

The bat hits the fine hardwood floor with a hollow clang, Hannibal crumpling into an ignominious heap immediately afterwards. There is no gunshot.

Margot, otherwise completely still, uncurls her finger from the trigger to instead rest it straight alongside the guard.

Applesauce has fallen quiet, listening to their voices.

“Again, sorry for dropping by unannounced,” Will says, into the stiff pall of silence. He lowers the stag onto the table, lining its thick pedestal base up carefully with the discarded match. Its high bronze head gazes out at the dining room with dumb serenity. After a moment of consideration Will picks the charred match up and slides it into his shirt pocket for absolutely no discernible reason. He can't be that low on fresh matches. “Do you have any duct tape? Maybe in the kitchen under the sink?” His speculation as to where the Verger-Bloom household may store their duct tape carries a strong intimation that he has, on prior occasions, had cause to go rooting through strangers' homes in search of something with which to tie people up. Best not to dwell.

“Silk rope in the bedroom,” Alana offers.

“Silk rope?”

“We're a young, affectionate couple with a dynamic and fulfilling love life,” says Alana, without missing a beat, brain-to-mouth filter nowhere to be found. She doesn't... think she meant that as a joke, but she's reverted into some kind of professorial oversharing, nothing to hold back her analytical intellect from spilling brute honesty from an unguarded tongue, defenses razed. Her brain feels like it wants to leak out her mouth, her heart likewise liquefied, a magma jumble of intense not-quite-relief, dire dread transmuted into a no less debilitating, shivery sort of suspense. She doesn't know how she's standing.

“Silk. And... no duct tape?” He sounds more disbelievingly scandalized at the lack of the tape than at the presence of the rope.

“Silk,” Alana confirms.

Will makes a flicking gesture of either apology or dismissal. Hannibal groans from beneath the table, sign enough of trouble to incentivize Alana's swift retrieval of the rope.

She knocks on the hidden panic room door at the back of the closet before she leaves the bedroom, rapping out the pattern for Caution, stay hidden.

A diminutive fist taps more quietly back: Okay. Be safe.

Love you, Alana adds, knuckles stinging against wood paneling, layered as it is over several inches of tempered steel. She rips herself away before she can listen for Morgan's reply.

Upon her return Will is fiddling uneasily with the tie holding his hair up in its haphazard bun and Margot has not moved an inch, her arms corded and quivering with strain. Though she finally uncocks the hammer and keeps her finger from the trigger as Alana moves into range she does not her eyes off of their intruders, seems barely even to blink, her stare wide and hard and empty as a doll's even as Will helps Alana to hoist Hannibal into a chair and hold his drowsy body in place as she secures him to it, hands, wrists, arms, legs, and torso all webbed in expert, intricate knot work, wrinkling his suit. She's half-certain he's started playing possum at some point, and she fumbles numbly over the rope in anticipation of a sudden burst of force, dreading an inevitable counterattack, but, wonder of wonders, Hannibal is either truly unconscious or complying with Will's not-so-subtle wishes and allows her to tie him down.

“You didn't call for help?” Alana asks Margot as she's finishing up. She starts to check that the bindings are loose enough not to chafe or cut off circulation on autopilot care but recoils when she feels the first static-electric shock of Hannibal's skin beneath her fingers, revoltingly normal, human. She's not ready to acknowledge the offensive reality of his palpable physical presence yet.

Margot takes a long time to answer, and when she finally does her voice is detached, remote. “I figured it'd be easier to dispose of any corpses without law enforcement sniffing around.”

“Ah,” Alana says.

“Smart,” Will adds approvingly, leaning an unsympathetic arm on Hannibal's shoulder to support his weight as Hannibal groans with ceremonial piteousness and begins to make a punctilious show of rousing.

“Your swing was perhaps a tad harder than necessary, was it not, my dear?” he asks Will after a few labored moments, wincing, his chin still drooping onto his chest and his brow furrowed with pain. It is possible he may not be entirely faking his distress.

Will scrubs a rough hand over Hannibal's cropped hair, ruffling it over his injury and causing Hannibal to flinch away. Will's touch immediately goes softer in response, combing almost apologetically over his scalp. The easy physical contact is almost unnerving, instigated as it is by Will, a person Alana had only ever known to be repulsed by human nearness unless under extreme emotional duress, but here he is treating Hannibal like an unavoidable symbiotic entity, an extension of his own body too inextricably close and melded to himself to have any boundaries to respect or any otherness to defend against. “Snap decision. Darling.” The endearment thrown in as a call-and-response rebuke of Hannibal's own. “The important thing is to prove we're not a threat.”

“An impossible aim,” Margot says venomously. Still statue-still; Margot Verger-Bloom, Resolute Woman In Silk Slip With Handgun, 2017, marble, 64 inches, On loan from Valhalla.

“Fair,” Will concedes. “But. Like I said, we're here to talk. Not to kill you. We want to clear things up and put your concerns to... rest.”

“The way you put Dr. Du Maurier to rest?” Alana asks, as she meant to earlier. The woman had dropped of the face of the planet, house spotless of forensics, belongings all scrupulously in place, clothes in drawers and food in the fridge and doors locked. Her disappearance had prompted a brief resurgence in Lecter-related conspiracy theories and had put Alana and Margot on guard for a while, but months passed and the furor died down and Alana and Margot relaxed, laid their fears to rest.

Graham and Lecter were doubtlessly dead, after all. And what need have the living for fear of the dead?

Zombies, chirps some obnoxious, intruding little voice in the back of her mind. She duly strangles it.

“Bedelia was a different case,” Will says.

“How?” Alana demands levelly.

“I wanted her dead,” Will replies, just as levelly.

As one, Alana and Margot look at Hannibal.

He looks back with a beatific smile upon his lips, and, after a moment, his eyebrows twitch upwards with salacious, meaningful precision.

Alana feels her own lips twist in revulsion.

She'd tried for so long to uphold the highest possible standard of ethics. Her field, she'd felt, required a barrier of morality to keep oneself in check, to protect one's charges against exploitation, to help oneself to fight off the temptation to dig a little too deeply into another's mind or willfully misinterpret facts and wrongfully influence subjects, needed a code keep oneself from the sort of oily, self-aggrandizing intellectual corruption which Chilton so heavily favored in every garishly daring line of his journal publications and later, lurid books. She'd fancied herself a bastion, her gut feelings of right and wrong her lodestone as she viewed the world through optimistically rose-tinted lenses while pragmatically holding tight to reality, a balancing act at which she strove to excel. She'd been adamant in this pursuit, outraged when others strayed from the path of the just on which she walked, but forgiving of those who realized they erred, and sorrowful, not spiteful, of those stubborn souls who failed to repent even in the face of all her efforts.

She'd been a force for change. Righteous, yet loving. Good at reading people. Her first impressions were rarely far off, and she found it easy to bond with others. Too easy, sometimes, as it was with Will, but she always considered herself objective and practical enough to distance herself again if needs must. Able to keep things cordial. Professional. Pleasant.

Perhaps above all, she'd been loyal.

Loyal to those first, and in one case, fatally mistaken, impressions. Loyal to her own sense of enlightenment. Loyal to her hubris, to her misplaced trust, to the concept of a good and honest friend; loyal, almost, unto death.

One constructive thing to have come out of utter disillusionment: she was a free agent now, a clear-eyed mercenary serving only herself and her immediate beloveds and whatever incarnation of justice best suits her whims. There's no longer any need for her to curb her silent censure or her morbid fascination, to keep the temperature of her heart solicitously heated to at least lukewarm and her curiosity conscientiously confined to first gear as she floats down from on high to dispense her insistent, one-track wisdom and while holding herself back from shaking the ignorant by the shoulders and screaming in their faces as they disregard her, as she is dismissed despite all her politeness and confidence and intelligence, all that shit she told herself to cling to again and again proven all for naught.

Fuck it. Sometimes she's wrong, and some other times people aren't worth convincing.

Or, in other words: Alana is not nice anymore.

“So Will's the one wearing the pants in the relationship,” she says, scornfully sharp, a baited hook.

Hannibal affects patronizingly lofty disappointment. “Being a woman in a relationship with another woman yourself, Alana, as well as being highly educated in social mores and pejoratives pertaining to gender and sexuality, I would have hoped that you would know better than to indulge in the application of false heteronormative standards to queer relationships which are by their very nature and definition exempt from such. This is, of course, not even taking into consideration the sexism and cissexism inherent in an idiom which implies that traditionally masculine clothing and by extension behavior determi—”

New tack. “Shut up and tell me exactly why Will doesn't wish us dead and why you'd listen to him or Margot is going to shoot you.” Margot dips her chin at Alana's clipped interruption of Hannibal's attempted soapboxing, sharp and assenting.

He regards them thoughtfully for a long moment, tormented by some powerful, petty inner temptation, lips pursing slowly in the manner of a man whose restraint is about to fail him in favor of being a smugly obtuse little shit.

“Shut up,” he asks with infernal innocence, eyes twinkling, “or tell you? I cannot reasonably be expected to simultaneously accomplish both.”

The revolver's double-action, so cocking back the hammer is a convenience, not a prerequisite, to firing. Margot therefore only needs to bother with slipping her index finger in place against the trigger before she's advancing with swift, menacing strides, halting and visibly refraining from committing violence upon Hannibal's person only because she's neared too close to the table to comfortably retain her strategic advantage. And because Will just as swiftly yanks Hannibal's chair back from the other side so as to give himself enough room to bodily insert himself between Hannibal and Margot's line of fire, the maneuver brisk and businesslike and hard enough to make the candles gutter and to seemingly give Hannibal whiplash, Will's mouth a sour, resignedly put-upon line.

“He'll do the shutting up,” he says, half promise and half threat, “I'll do the telling.”

“Yeah, that sounds best,” Margot agrees tersely.

Hannibal tips his head back and rolls his neck with a rueful smirk and an audible crack of vertebrae, his Adam's apple standing out like a knot of wood from the sinuous chestnut arch of his throat.

Alana becomes acutely and sickeningly aware that she's felt that Adam's apple beneath her lips, the bobbing undulation of it when he swallowed. The memory, as it always does, inflames her with subzero fury, her gorge rising.

It had taken every last ounce of her willpower not to strap him into an electric chair for that once he'd been given over to her loving custody at the BSHCI, for the tender, attentive ministrations he'd lavished on her, the long, fluid, knowing thrusts of his hips, for having the cunning temerity to touch her with the irrevocably sullied, blood-wet stain of his lying cannibal's mouth. But by then she'd already had her revenge; him, bereft of freedom, at her mercy. That was all she'd fought for, stooped so low for: recompense by way of power, as personal and intimate a violation as had been inflicted upon her, the security in knowing the key to her nightmare monster's pretty little cage was in her own capable hand.

Until he'd had the gall to slip away and “die.”

The twisted tangles of attraction and manipulation and consent bind all four of them together, chafing and ugly.

She still remembers how sweet and desperate Will had been when they'd kissed, frayed down into nothing but soft, exhausted edges and frazzled static-electric sparks of neuroticism, the night he'd heard a nonexistent animal scratching and crying inside his chimney and thought to call her, and how close she'd been to giving in and taking what he offered, letting him use her as a crutch if only for the fleeting reward of pleasure and connection. In the end she'd cared for him too much for that.

She remembers Margot confessing to her that she'd used Will in her first attempt at a child, sought him out and commiserated with him and allowed him to believe that she wanted him for himself and not for her own basic and basically duplicitous reproductive aims, sexless sex, a subliminally calculating means to an end which she'd told Alana she hadn't premeditated, hadn't planned... she'd just been flailing in the dark for any feeling, any possibility, of hope, and had blindly struck upon Will, a fellow resentful victim, in all his thorny, vulnerable, plaid-patterned glory. Remembers Margot admitting, quietly, that she hadn't regretted it, despite Will's initial bitterness, his buried hurt. She only mourned her unborn baby's disturbing, drawn-out death and all the other obscene injuries she'd suffered to appease Mason's bottomless hunger to bring her under his control, to glut himself on her humiliation and pain.

Would that spontaneous deceit, that formlessly conceived falsehood, sex with undisclosed motivations lurking beyond the heaving flesh of the physical, be considered rape?

And if not, then what was to be made of the wrong Hannibal had committed against Alana?

What the fuck was Will thinking, opening either his heart or his legs or, as was apparent, fucking both to such a man when such tragic travesties lay between... between her and him, between him and him? What the fuck.

She shies away from this convoluted mire of remorse and desire and disgust and refocuses on Will, here in the present, standing steadfast as Hannibal's willing human shield, the angle of his shoulders canted like even now he's feeling a solacing pull, like Hannibal is his center of gravity, like they're celestial bodies caught in the spiraling wells of each others' influence. He holds himself, Alana realizes, as she holds herself around Margot.

He's watching her. Guileless yet unreadable as he ever is. Drinking in all her secrets, her shames and her horrors, following her train of thought and passively observing the glimpses which can be caught through every flashing window on every passing railway car and then reflecting it all back.

He opens his mouth, eyes fixed on hers, and begins his sentence with a calm and weary sigh which breaks into a smooth, solid monotone as shale cleaves from a sheer rock face, the scales of slate clattering far below. “I wanted to see you and your son.”

They stare at him. Margot has gone glacially hostile with alarm, beginning again to quiver with a rigidly contained tempest of enormous emotion, but Alana feels as though the pool of Will's stillness has expanded to envelope her, and looking into his shadowed eyes across the room it is as though, in this moment and this alone, she, too, can so deftly divine others' truths.

In him she sees only wistfulness and honesty, agonized as all Will's emotions are agonized, a smothered, hollow miscarriage of an experience which overtakes him and sends him stumbling to in turn take over his own apathy with some bereft approximation of motivation. He would be an utterly static being without this ouroboros of dispossession, even interspersed as it is with occasional eye-for-an-eye surges of spite, and it makes an odd sort of sense that, eventually, his cyclical evolution would have circled him back to this particular aspect of his past, back to Alana and Margot and his nascent parental longing. Back to the ever-elusive concept of family.

The problem with this odd little quest of his is that there's something he's still left unsaid, another layer lying obscured beneath his too-concise explanation, and, additionally and of greater importance, that he's chosen Alana's family to fixate on, and has swept an indulgent serial killer with a penchant for grudges along with him.

“Why can't you and Hannibal adopt?” she quips, because really now. If they'd just deigned to pick up some homeless orphan off of the street and contented themselves with sending a nice postcard in Hannibal's distinctively elegant handwriting then all of this could have been avoided.

Someone might still fucking die.

“We presently have a nomadic and occasionally risky lifestyle not suited to the needs of a growing child,” Hannibal says, all chidingly aloof disapproval. “Additionally, Will very much wished to see how you and your lovely wife were getting along since you elected to set aside your distinguished position at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane.”

“I was also reminded of missing you when we streamed your TED Talk,” says Will diffidently.

“You made some incisive points on sexism and victim blaming in media coverage. I especially appreciated your foray into widespread sensationalism and romanticization of trauma and abuse, and the direct harm these normalized portrayals subsequently cause to individual victims. An excellently urgent, humanizing delivery,” Hannibal commends her. “Although there could have been more time allocated to the discussion such detrimental cultural influences play in supposedly unbiased news reporting.”

“He wanted you to rail CNN for bringing on Lounds' tabloid-trash ass as an expert consultant,” Will translates. “He also liked your aubergine pantsuit. Said it was of 'exquisite tailoring' and that he happened to have 'an especial partiality for the color.'”

Margot, infinitesimally less uneasy given Alana's confident flippancy and the ensuing redirection of Hannibal and Will's attention towards Alana, rolls her eyes.

Alana is never doing another TED Talk again.

“What is it you want out of seeing us?” she presses. “Out of seeing our son.” A protective finality is contained within her use of the possessive.

“Does everything have to be an accomplishment?” Will asks.

“If you're here to take him, or to hurt her, then by God either you'll tell me now or I'll find out anyways and I. Will. Kill. You,” Margot snarls, sudden and savage.

Hannibal is leaning precariously to the side, trying to frown at her from around Will's torso. The ropes and the chair strain audibly, a drawn-out, preposterous creaking which increases petulantly as he tips further over. Margot twitches the barrel of the gun towards him, causing Will to notice and wave Hannibal fully back behind him. Hannibal rights himself with an aggrieved air, trying to catch Alana's eye so as to beg her sympathy or something else which would be completely and horrendously out of the question. Alana ignores him. The aggrieved aura strengthens.

“He was messing with you,” Will says, and it takes a moment for Alana to hear what he's said, to realize he's said it to her. For her to process what this might mean. “He never outright promised to kill you. Just implied it, let you jump to conclusions. That's also why I wanted to do this in person, and why it had to be you we came for, your family. So you'd know we meant it. We're going to leave, and leave you alive. All of you. You'll make it out of this alive, Alana.”

“Provided everybody continues to treat each other with civility,” Hannibal amends facetiously, and Will actually swivels halfway around to smack Hannibal's shoulder with the back of his hand.

“Not funny,” Will scolds, very firmly and without hope.

Hannibal shrugs, unfazed.

“Do you believe him?” Margot asks her. Leaving the final call up to her judgment.

It makes sense, now, with all the pieces revealed and in place. It was a confluence of reasons which led them here, not just Will's paternal pangs and any vestiges of fondness he'd once held for Alana, for either of them, but also his sense of restitution, his distaste for leaving others to labor under the burden of such a misapprehension. Especially since they are parents, with a child whom they cherish and who would be harmed by their deaths.

She's not certain how Hannibal could have been convinced to tell them, or even if he had not, in fact, been planning to enact violence upon her before Will was able to change his mind. Both possibilities aligned with Hannibal's dear love of playing with people, dropping them like rats into a maze to see which path they'd take. He has nothing so great to lose by letting Alana live. He would gain Will and Margot's regard, Margot's specifically meaning that she would not then bring all of the vast Verger resources bearing down on Hannibal's head in vengeance, and Hannibal would not have to kill Margot, whom he harbors no ill will towards, to prevent such.

For her part Alana has never treated Hannibal poorly or, god forbid, rudely. Not before she knew, and not after; and though she'd allied herself with Mason to drag Hannibal all the way back into the states and to justice, Margot, the necessary killing of Mason, had superseded all of that, and she had let Hannibal go in its favor. It was Hannibal who had given himself up to the law, and therefore to the BSHCI, which Alana had run with nothing less than professionalism, giving him a lavishly comfortable, even a privileged environment, magazine subscriptions and mail correspondence and phone calls, softcover books and felt-tipped markers and graphite and crayons, loose sketch paper and even fine ingredients and plastic cookware at times, and she had only ever taken it all away when he had transgressed in some distinct, tangible manner, when he was withholding information, or sending a murderer to darken the Foster-Grahams' door.

There was little respect possible to accord in such a setting as the hospital, unavoidable, clinical indignities par for the course for the incarcerated, but she'd still gone out of her way to provide him his due, taken pains to remove her own petty anger out of any equation used to calculate his care and treatment. Even if she had at times allowed herself the satisfaction of condescension, of a brand akin to that which she'd been subjected to by him, the type she'd once seen as suggestions of common sense and leniency, as how he'd urged her to forgive Will's deluded proclamations of innocence in the face of his seemingly incontrovertible guilt, the way he'd said “Don't be brave, Alana,” after having already taken the bullets from her gun. A courteous facade of agency.

She thinks for a moment that it is this kind of facade, this kind of lie, which is being presented to her now. Just another illusion, misdirection to hide the knife coming for her back.

Except: this is Will saying this, Will's doing. Will's design.

He knocked Hannibal out so they could tie him up, and they accepted this immediately and unquestioningly as an honest action, as something he would do and which they could go along with; even if it was merely a tactic to assuage their hostility it had been a move which prioritized their concerns over Hannibal's short-term wellfare.

He is untrustworthy, and far from innocent. She's allowed hurt to befall him, has in the past failed him both inadvertently and deliberately. There is no real way to know that he won't decide to withdraw his mercy, or whether he is already so changed that he has none now, no way to know that he won't ever betray her as others have.

And yet. It was not for Margot alone that she loosed Hannibal upon Muskrat Farm, and while Will is not one to keep a lasting account of slights and debts, he has never met kindness with cruelty. Even corrupted as he is, as they all are, he has his shred of decency; he is not a man who would make a widow of her wife nor an orphan of her son. He can't be.

Faith is such a pernicious, vicious thing.

“I believe him,” Alana says.

It is a time before Margot releases a long, steadying breath, before she looks over, studying Alana's face, her posture, looks back at Will, staring her down in all his defensive earnestness. She speaks into the silence, to Alana. “I trust you.”

She lowers the gun.

[jaywrote]

Super Gal: Chapter 1

this one is really going to need a rewrite later on but this is what i have for it’s first draft

My day was starting the way it so often does, at 5am with a travel cup of coffee in hand rushing out the door while still rubbing the sand out of my eyes, i love my job but waking up at 5am is the worst and means i don’t get much of a night life.

As i look through my bag for my keys i spot that i have three missed calls from around 3am from somebody i don’t know, i check the name “Madison Payne”, do i know this person? No, am i going to call back? Also a firm no because phone calls are the work of satan and calling back a man i do not know that called me three times at 3am that i am not even sure how he got my number does not sound like a good freaking time.

I finally spot my keys and get out the door but as i do this i see that my neighbour Ali is in the hall looking over his mail. Ali is a kinda of annoying guy i know, though i guess i don’t know him very well but i also don’t have much interest in getting to know him better, he was a bit shorter than me and also had shorter more curly hair though we did have naturally dark hair in common though i never can tell if it’s black or just very dark brown. He looks up when he hears me and our eyes, both brown, make contact and it’s time like these where i wish i didn’t live in apartment.

“Oh, hey ember!” Ali looked up and waved at me with maybe a bit too much enthusiasm “Where you heading off too?”

I sigh as he always asks this when we run into each other this early in the morning and i always say “I heading to work like i do most times i am going out of the house at 5am looking like i barely slept, what about you? Why are you up this early?”

“I was trying to figure out why power got cut off to my apartment so i guess i got a little antsy and got up early to see the mail and see if i got a cut off notice” He rubbed the back of his head and i could see a bit of colour come into his golden face “By the way… Thanks again for letting me come over to your house earlier, it was nice to not have to be in my dark apartment alone at like 1am”

“Yeah sure thing, don’t mention it” I sighed, as i walked away and down the hall and i could hear him yell after me

“Uh oh, okay bye!” I didn’t look back but i am sure he was waving again with the same amount of enthusiasm

I make my way out of out of the old apartment building and on to the sidewalk, the city even though it’s 5am on a week day is as alive as ever, i guess that’s one of the pro’s of living in new york and another pro is the fact that you don’t need a car to get around and that works well for me as i’ve yet to ever have enough money to buy a car that wouldn’t break down on me a week later.

I head down the stairs to the noisy subway, it’s already so crowded and i have to push my way to the train. All seats were taken so i stood and put on my headphones hoping that it might block out all the noise just a bit, if i knew how many headaches i’d get from sensory overload i might have rethought moving to new york but even with that i think the city is growing on me all the time, plus i wouldn’t have met Super Gal if i didn’t.

Still all the noise sucks so i put on some music and look through my facebook, looks like my mom posted a link to a blog with recipes for living on a budget, sweet of her to think of me but i think i would have preferred if she had sent that to me privately.

Soon enough i reach my stop and get off, i climb the stairs out of the subway and find myself in one of the poorer areas of the bronx, heroes tend to get their bases in these areas since it’s good to be near your work and all plus the rent is cheaper. The sidewalk seems maybe just a bit too empty in the block around the office building and when i turn the corner i can see that there are about 3 police cars parked right outside the building, i run over taking off my headphones and shoving them into my bag.

Panting i reach the scene where i can see that it seems like two officers are talking with the landlord, another is taking photos of the building another is talking on the radio and the last is talking with a detective. I also see a white woman with curly red hair who is wearing a white tank top and jeans with a notebook in hand who spots me but then goes over to the officer that is on the radio.

One of the two talking with the landlord also spot me and comes over, he is a older white man, i’d say about in his 50s who seems to have a frown permanently stuck on his face. He stand in front of me and asks in a most curt tone of voice “Who are you? And why are you here?”

“Ember Andrés, i work for Super Gal” I try to sound somewhat polite but i can’t help but feel my stomach drop a bit as he scrunches up his eyes for a moment and then asks.

“You an immigrant?” I can almost hear the shitty undertone in his voice as i try my damnedest to not face palm, i do however let out a long sigh.

“Sir, that is none of your business but i am not. Now why are the police here? And where's Super Gal?” I put on the nicest face i can as i answered his question and then drop that as i try to get to the bottom of what is happening.

“A murder has happened here, Super Gal was found dead earlier today” The world seems to pause for just a moment, my vision goes blurry as tears swell up in my eyes, i can tell he said something right after that but i couldn’t hear him.

My world feels like it just crashed around me, just the other she was alive and i thought that i would be her intern for the next year of my life, just this morning thought i’d get to see her today and hear how her patrol went last night, but now, now everything changes with just one sentence, my plans, my future.

I walk off to the side and sit down on the curb, i remember the last i saw her, she said she was going to do a late patrol an that she wanted to talk to me in the morning about something i will now never get to hear come out of her mouth. I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye, i am going to have to leave so many things unsaid and i guess she will too.

I see the red haired woman walking over to me and she comes right over and sits down right next to me and starts talking and goes to shake my hand.

“Hello, I’m Mary i work with the super-u paper, a newspaper and web site that reports on anything superhero related. I’m wondering, you are Super Gal’s intern, right?” She asks while tapping her pen on the blue notebook she still has in hand.

“Yeah.. I’m the intern..” I fidget a bit of my ombre hair between my fingers and i continue to just look at the road in front of me and not even look at this woman.

“Great to hear! What is your name?” She seems maybe a bit too upbeat for the scene of a murder as she starts resting her pen on her smiling lip.

“Ember” I take my bag off and start looking through it, it is still messy and i did jam my headphones in to it not helping the problem but i find my cigarettes and take them out “Mind if i?” i gesture at the box, i might have the best first impressions of this lady but I’m not going to smoke right next to her if she has a problem with it.

“Go right ahead.” As i hear that get one out of the box and pull out my black lighter from the pocket of my army green jacket and i hear her continue “So, Ember, what was Super Gal like?”

“She was a good hero, she also was a alright mentor..” I felt my eyes well up with more tears and my body yearning to just curl up into a ball and not stop until the world started making sense again, i did not want to be talking with this reporter about my mentor right after i found out she was murdered

Wait, who killed her? And how? My mind rush's trying to think something and then the answer hits me like a brick wall, the serial killer, Savior must have been the one to kill Super Gal. I get an idea, it’s small and only in the back of my head and i know that if i tried it would fail because i am not a detective, and i am not a superhero, i am just a intern and former shop clerk with little life experience. But the back of my head tells me to find Savior, unmask Savior, and bring justice to the person who took Supe- no, Candace away from me and away from the world.

I then realize i have been crying and staring at the pavement and Mary looks worried “You okay there Ember? I get losing somebody close hurts a lot so take all the time you need”

I hear one of the officers call me over, i get up and walk over and i see that Mary goes to bother the detective. I reach them, it’s two of them the older man that talked to me only a few minutes ago and a younger looking woman that seems a little less pale than the man.

“We need to ask you a few questions” The woman starts and i can see the man flip open a notepad and getting a pen ready “So where were you last night? And do you have any sort of alibi”

“I was at home, and at around midnight my neighbour came over cause his power wasn’t working and i’m pretty sure he is afraid of the dark”

“Okay, how long were you working for Super Gal?” She continues

“About 6 months, and maybe a week or two” I put my hands in my pants pockets and fiddle with a quiet stim cube i keep in the left one, my other hand just gets to be still

She continued to ask more rather simple questions like if i knew who Super Gal was or how i landed the job, and what my job even was and it was fine till the man spoke up

“Hey Alice” He turns to the woman “This girl might have been the killer”

My blood boils, i feel my right hand form a fist and my left clutch the cube tight. How dare he!

“And why do you think that George?” Alice rolls her eyes and seems almost bored as she asks

“I don’t like the look of this girl, plus she’d be able to get in the building and take Super Gir-”

“Her name was Super Gal.” I shout, my emotions are all over the place aren’t they? the officers both look taken aback as i realize i just yelled at two white police officers. My mom used to warn me about this sort of thing and how you should never ever do that sort of thing but i couldn’t just stand there and take this, could i?

“Fine, she could have taken Super Gal by surprise and used that to kill her, also she’d know how to get around her powers wouldn’t you, girl?” He seem almost smug like he just figured out who jack the ripper was and not like he was accusing a 18 year old of murdering the only person they were close to the whole city.

“Shut. The. Fuc-” I get cut off before i can make that grand mistake by Mary coming over and shouting

“Sir! What are you doing?!” She looked a bit flabbergasted as she stood right next to me

“We were just discussing suspects..” He gives me a smile like a fucking snake

“I don’t think you should do that in front of one of the victims friends” Mary put emphasis on the word friend and then continued “Now if you don’t mind i have some things i need to talk about with Ember” Mary gave the two a smile as she grabbed me by the shoulder and walked me away from the both of them

She lead me back the curb and checked behind her to make sure they weren’t mad and then turned to me “You alright?”

“Umm, yeah i guess” I realize how tense my whole body is and i let it relax “Uh thanks by the way..”

“Yeah sure, of course!” She pats my shoulder and then asks “So any idea why he was being so tough on you? I heard what you guys were talking about and he seemed pretty convinced”

“I think it’s just because i’m young and i have what men call a resting bitch face and i guess i dress kinda punk-ish” I rub my neck a bit and then ask “So why’d you help?”

“Well it looked like they were just upsetting you and not really doing their jobs. Plus, us girls gotta stick together” She gave me another smile and i start to wonder if she knows how to be somber

“Umm, not a girl but close enough i guess….” I feel awkward mentioning it when there is so much more important stuff going on but i am starting to get really sick of being misgendered today

“Oh, sorry!” Mary looked a bit like her was dying inside “I mean also it was the right thing to do… I mean nobody else looked like they were going to get you out of that and trust me telling a police officer to shut the fuck up is never a good idea even under the best of circumstances” And she let out a small awkward chuckle

“Yeah it’s fine, and you don’t have to tell m- Wait it kinda sounds like you’re talking from experience” I can’t help but wonder what this sweet seeming girl could have been doing to end up telling a police officer to shut up

She gives another awkward laugh and says “I kinda am, long story short i was working on a report about the murder of some poor woman and one of the officers was being pretty disrespectful about the victim so i snapped at him. I got kicked out after that” She rubs the back of her head.

I guess that makes sense and i am sure that if i was in that sort of situation i would have spoke up as well. Before i think much more in to it i see the detective is coming over. He is a black man with short locks that are in a low ponytail, he’s wearing a tan trench coat and then a dress shirt and black pants. Frankly he wears the clothes of a stereotypical detective

“Hello, I am detective Madison Payne. It’s nice to meet you” He puts his hand out and i go to shake it and he then says “What is your name?”

“I’m Ember Andrés” I let go of his hand and put my hand back into my pocket “So I’m guessing you want to ask me something? Or something like that?”

“Yes i do, i need to ask you a few questions about where you were last night and a few questions about Super Gal. I understand if those ones about Super Gal take you a few minutes to answer as you must be in a lot of shock right now” He gives a friendly yet aloof look on his face and pulls out a notebook from one of his coat pockets “So i heard you were at home with a person over last night, is that correct?”

“Yup, i stay home at nights since i have to be at work so early and one of my neighbours came over due to the power not working in his apartment” I click the switch like thingy on my fidget cube as i answer, I’m not nervous of him but i guess more of the general vibe of this whole morning that has put me on edge. I hope to god that my nerves aren’t showing on my face.

“Alright then, what’s the name of this person that was over?” I see him jot down what i just said as he asks

“His name is Ali Benson” I can’t help but start to think of what tomorrow will look like, what the rest of this week will look like, how things have changed so drastically in a hours time. But i push those thoughts to the back of my mind because for now i need to try to give the detective all the information i can so he can find the killer.

“Okay. So i have to ask a few questions about Super Gal but i don’t think any of this should be too personal” He looks up at me and i feel like he is trying to get a read on me, i am not sure if i should be honest with my facial expression or stay stone faced but before i can chose the moments passed and he looks back down to his notebook “So do you know if Super Gal would have had anybody over at around 1am?”

“She wouldn’t have, she said she was going to work alone tonight and i know she had some paperwork to do so i doubt she’d bring anybody in to the base while having work to do there” I see him note all of that down before asking another question

“Did she act at all out of the usual in the days leading up to now? Did she seem more nervous or like she knew something?”

“Not really, but kinda on that topic i just remembered something. About a week ago we found a letter on the doorstep that was rather threatening, it wasn’t signed and we didn’t think much of it at the time but now that she’s… gone i can’t help but feel like the letter might have been from the killer”

“Thank you for bring this to my attention, do you know where the letter was put?”

“We unfortunately thought it wasn’t important so she tossed it out” i sigh, it could have been a important lead but now it’s just in some landfill

“Yes that is rather unfortunate.” He also lets out a sigh and i can tell that he was hoping to see the note, i feel bad for a moment for not stopping Candace for throwing it out but my thoughts are cut off “So what were Super Gal’s powers exactly? We have a basic idea but you might be able to fill in the blanks a bit”

“She had psychic energy manipulation, she could create and control psychic energy, it was sorta like a hard light substance made out of will power. She said she had the energy running through her body at all times and did mention from time to time that it could hurt her body if she did not keep it under control” I remember the first time i saw her use her powers, she had only used them to lift up something that had fell but i was still rather impressed by it.

“Okay, last two questions, first what did your job as a intern entail? And do you have any superpowers?” He asks that last question as it was routine and i guess it is fair enough to ask as i guess some kinds of powers could help me lie about things or could help the investigation. It’s fairly common place to have witness with any sort of useful power help out the police while they are still around the place

“I helped with paper work, i also helped maintain her gear and if i was brought to the scene of the fight she was apart of i would help people evacuate the area. I didn’t do any fighting unless i had too to protect myself” I always hate when a sentence makes you say a word twice but i continue nonetheless “And i do have a power, if a touch a dead body i can see their last moments of life”

I can see Madison and Mary’s eyes both go wide for a moment, Mary walks off to the side with a thinking face on while Madison regains his professional look he keeps on his face.

“That’s a pretty helpful power in sort of situation, though i have to wonder how you found out you had this power?” He looks still a bit surprised, most of his face wouldn’t tell this but his eyes still had that sort of look in them alongside a lot of curiosity

“My grandma’s funeral was… Interesting to say the least” It was kinda of nice to think for a moment of something that was funny, a nice distraction from the fact that i was sure that the officers were going to make me have to see the last living moments of my mentor.

“Must have been, i’ll let you go now. You can leave the area for a few minutes but do be here in around 20 minutes as we will be asking you to use your power” He looks like he understand how hard that is going to be emotionally but without further word he heads over to the police officers and starts talking with them

Mary walks back over to me and gives me a quick pat on the back before saying “You want to go get some coffee or something? It’s on me by the way”

I give her a small smile and we head to a nearby corner store i know that sells pretty okay-ish coffee, while walking to and from the store i do talk with her and ask her few things and find out she is super-u’s superhero interviewer as she has a easy time getting heroes to talk with her and i think i am starting to see why, she seems like a kind woman who must be only a about a year older than me. I wish i had a more steady job

Once we get back Madison rush's right over to me, he does not look panicked but he sure as fuck does not look calm either. He grabs me by the arm and pulls me off to side and i see Mary isn’t following and just gives me a bit of a wave goodbye

“Wooh wooh, what’s going on?” I ask as Madison stops just a bit out of view of the police

“They are pretty sure that you’re the killer, i don’t know why but they are pretty convinced so are going to probably ask a lot more of you than just helping with this one dead body. Do you think you could handle that?” He looks a bit like he does know why the police think the grunge girl looking person that already heard one of them make a racist remark about them but i guess i can understand not wanting to go through that mouth full, or not wanting to say it in case they over hear that part

“I guess i can handle using my powers on other dead bodies, i mean it doesn’t look like there are a lot of other ways to keep the officers happy with me..” I trail off and then take a sip of my coffee

“Okay then it looks like we are sorta working together” Madison remarks, if it’s to himself or me i can’t tell.