#those are my 2 and 3 respectively ... i have high hopes for her

[space-mango-company]

Stranger | Chapter 1

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Summary: The Atreides daughter is sent off to Giedi Prime to marry the Harkonnen heir in an attempt to quell the feuding Great Houses. The bride, however, must prove her grit and earn the respect of her new family if she is to survive her new life. Perhaps she will find that she had more Harkonnen in her than she thought.

TW: none (for now)

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut (just not in this chapter lmao), No use of y/n, Original Characters, cannon what cannon

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: Please bear with me, it has been ages since I've written anything and this is my first ever work of fanfiction. I've never written in the second person before so if you catch any mistakes, especially in verb tenses, please let me know. English is not my first language. Also, this might start out a bit slow but I promise things will pick up soon.

The smell of grass and the crashing waves of Caladan brought you comfort as you stood before the starship that had been rented from the Spacing Guild.

Your brother had insisted on accompanying you to Giedi Prime, but a round trip would have been unnecessarily expensive, even with the vast wealth of your Great House. Besides, it would be foolish to deliver the heir of House Atreides to the home world of their sworn enemies. It was bad enough they had to send you there.

"Give them hell," Paul teased as he hugged you goodbye.

You laughed, but you knew his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. He had faith in your strength and ferocity, but he had much less faith in the hospitality of the Harkonnens.

"I'll miss you," you pull away and try to give him a reassuring smile but you, yourself, are not so certain of your fate.

You made your way to your mother, next in line to bid you farewell.

"Remember your training." Lady Jessica held your face and planted a tender kiss on your forehead. She had already given you all the advice she could.

You take her hands in yours and kiss them. "I will," you tell her solemnly.

You finally make it to your father, whose eyes are already welling with tears.

"My darling princess," his voice cracks as he lays a hand on your cheek. The Duke may seem a stoic man to most, but those who truly knew him knew he had a big heart.

Perhaps it is because you are one of those people that you finally feel that weight in your chest that you've been dreading since the signing of your marriage pact. It will be a truly long time before you would see your family again. If you could ever see them at all.

The Duke waves at an attendant who approaches with a silver tray. Leto takes the dagger resting on it and places it in your hands. "To remind you that you will always be an Atreides, that you will always be my daughter."

You let your tears fall as you hold the gift close to your chest.

"Don't cry now," your father pulls you into a hug, hoping to hide his own tears, "or I might never let you go."

You let a laugh slip through the sobs. You knew it was already decided and it is your duty to fulfill. The Sisterhood and the Emperor himself endorsed the match. Nothing could change it now.

The harsh light of Giedi Prime's black sun assaulted your eyes as you made your way down the starship's gangplank. The stark, high-contrast black and white made everything a pain to look at. You were thankful for the veils of your travelling gowns for providing you at least some shade.

You were greeted by House Harkonnen's steward, Jaromir Naggul, and swiftly led into the imposing, Brutalist fortress of their stronghold. You were almost happy to escape the infrared outside.

"Your belongings are being sent to your new quarters as we speak," Jaromir, a lanky but stately man, informs you. "You may change out of your traveling clothes and rest there. The Baron will receive you in the throne room in the afternoon."

You note his accent and the mild contempt in his voice, as if you were an inconvenience.

"This is Iassa," he gestures to one of the servants that had been following you through the halls. "She is your assigned slave. Should you need anything, you may tell her."

The word almost knocks the breath out of you.

You eyes turn to Iassa in her pale gray robes and you give her a polite nod. She hastily curtsies in return.

You knew the Harkonnens and even the Emperor kept slaves, but you suppose it never occurred to you that you would be charged with one yourself.

"Of course," Jaromir continues, "any of the servants in the fortress will be at your command, but Iassa will be in waiting for you in particular."

"Of course," you reply coldly.

"You will be staying in the guest wing for now," Jaromir says as he shows you the door to your quarters. "Of course, until your wedding. When you will then be moved to the na-Baron's apartments."

"...of course," you repeat, grateful again for your veils that they hide your dread.

You are silent as Iassa helps you into a black gown for your audience with the baron. It is the fashionable color in the Harkonnen home world. Although there were many other 'fashionable' traits on Giedi Prime, this was the only one you felt comfortable adopting right now. The complete lack of hair in every individual you had seen was certainly unsettling, but you sensed it would be rude to speak about it.

"What is the na-Baron like?" you ask.

Iassa pauses her fastening of your dress, she swallows. "He is a fearsome warrior, my lady," she keeps her gaze averted, "handsome and popular with the people."

Her voice was shaky but she seemed genuine. You only wonder if those words hold the same implications here as they do back home.

You look over to Iassa as she fetches your shoes. It's not difficult to see that she fears you. You cannot help but feel that that is all there is. You are still an off-worlder. An Atreides no less. She harbors no respect for you.

You take care to style your hair in the fashions of Caladan, fastening a falcon-like pin at the back of your head. The symbol of your house. Perhaps it is a risky choice, to be seen as defiant by the baron should he notice, but you could already feel the black sun beginning to drain the life out of you. The thrill of quiet defiance would have to sustain you for now.

Jaromir returns in time to fetch you and you are led to the throne room.

The baron's grotesque floating body looms over you and his subjects. You had never met any of the Harkonnens before but you were sure that was him.

"Welcome to your new home, Lady Atreides," the Baron utters your last name with thinly veiled loathing. "Let me present my nephew, Feyd-Rautha."

A tall muscular young man steps forward. Stately and regal as a Harkonnen could be, he looks over you with condescending eyes.

He certainly looked like a warrior, and you could see how the people of Giedi Prime could find him handsome, but you find yourself wanting to spit in his face.

"Forgive me for not greeting you when you landed, my lady," the na-Baron bows to you. His gravelly voice sends a chill down your spine, "I was preoccupied at the time. I trust you have settled well?"

You curtsy in turn, "I'm sure my lord had important duties to attend to. I am grateful for your hospitality. My rooms are very comfortable."

"Do not find them too comfortable young lady," the Baron calls from afloat his chair, "your wedding celebrations are to begin and you will be sharing rooms with my nephew before long."

Feyd-Rautha smirks at this and you are almost willing to cast decorum aside to slap it off his face.

"Tomorrow, your groom will take part in the arena to demonstrate his prowess as a worthy husband and leader, as per the traditions of our house," the Baron announces. "I'm sure you will make a point to attend."

"I would not miss it, dear Baron."

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

#feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha smut #dune #dune part two #house harkonnen #house atreides #leto atreides #lady jessica #paul atreides #baron vladimir harkonnen #duke leto atreides #austin butler #jessica atreides #space-mango-company #fic: stranger

[sebscore]

hi ! I love your gen z driver series so much !!

i have a request that she and zhou show up to the padock in the same outfit unplanned

like i feel this would happen - they both fancy showing up in something so different and the other would be wearing the same thing !! <3 fashion icons think the same 😌

THE HELMET BET

pairings: zhou guanyu x driver!reader / f1 grid x driver!reader 

warnings: swearing. based on the 2022 grid. mention of sexism and racism. joke about doing an orgy.

author's note: idk if this is what you had in mind, but I had already written a small part of this fic and then your ask came in and I couldn't help myself. I love zhou so much, ugh thats my man fr. also, thank you for loving the series, it means a lot to me 💞

masterlist

• • • • • • •

''We're gonna get in trouble.'' Zhou said, shaking his head. 

Y/N frowned at his words. ''Why would we get in trouble? It's always super boring and our bet can at least spice it up a little.'' She reasoned, using a lot of hand gestures to show how serious she was. 

''You know those meetings are about our safety, right? We should take them serious.'' The Chinese driver didn't want to get in hot water with the stewards. 

''But this is a serious matter! We're putting an end to the debate,'' she retorted back, not seeing the harm in using the upcoming driver's briefing for their bet, ''lately, I've been seeing way too many people saying you've got better style than me and I've had enough of it.'' 

The female driver had seen the countless online discussions between fans regarding the most stylish driver on the grid, the winner usually switching between herself, Lewis and Zhou. In her opinion, Lewis had the best style, she didn't need to think twice about it. But it is important for her to know who his successor is, who is the number 2? 

To answer that question, she had come up with a brilliant idea: her and Zhou wear their best outfit to the next driver's briefing, not some team merchandising, and they get the other drivers to vote on which outfit is the best and therefore, which person has the best style. The person with the most votes gets to design a helmet for the loser and they have to wear it at the next racing weekend. 

''Okay, I'm in,'' Zhou admitted, shaking hands to commemorate the challenge, ''be prepared to lose, Y/N.'' 

''Don't worry about me, Guanyu.'' 

Y/N was confident in her win. The young woman knows she has style, her several brand deals with high-respected fashion houses being the proof of that. However, she knew not to underestimate her rookie friend, Zhou has had some killer outfits in the ongoing season. 

They had known each other for some years, but it was only this year that the pair had gotten close. Y/N broke the ice by complimenting one of his outfits at the start of the season and the rest was history. 

The outfit she had gone with was simple, but she looked good and she felt great in it. It was inspired by one of Michael Schumacher's paddock outfits (reference), knowing she would at least have Mick and Seb's vote with that one. 

Y/N got out of her car, ready to make her way to the F1 paddock and straight to the driver's briefing. In the corner of her eye she noticed Zhou's car pull up, his performance coach waving at her through the window. She reciprocated the action and decided to wait for him, thinking it would be nice for the two of them to enter together. She was curious as to what her friend would be wearing, secretly hoping he had fumbled the bag really hard. 

Her hopes came crashing down as Zhou got out of the car, observing the clothes he was wearing and noticing one clear detail. 

They were wearing the same outfit. 

Her eyes seemed ready to bulge out of her head, in complete disbelief. ''Are you fucking kidding me, Zhou?'' 

The Chinese man appeared to be much more amused by the situation, covering his laughter with his hand. ''You look very nice, Y/N.'' He giggled, greeting her with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. 

''It's turned into a ''who wears it better'' challenge, what the heck.'' She commented, eyeing him up and down before glancing at her own fit. 

Zhou chuckled. ''Well either way, I'm winning.'' A small smirk appeared on his face, still sure of his win over his friend. Y/N simply scoffed, grabbing her pass from her purse and walking to the entrance. Zhou and his coach followed her steps, still entertained by her annoyance. 

As soon as the paddock reporters noticed the sight of the two drivers, their cameras were whipped out from their bags and they began taking candid shots of the pair. Zhou and Y/N played along for the cameras, pointing at each other's outfits and pretending to look annoyed. 

Eventually they made it to the right room, already seeing most of the drivers waiting inside. Zhou went in and greeted the others, while Y/N waited outside, ready to lock the door as soon as everyone had arrived and was inside. 

Lando had been the last one to walk down the hallway. ''Hurry up, Norris!'' She exclaimed, her hand motioning for him to pick up the pace. 

''Why? I'm on time.'' He replied a bit agitated, it was a bit too early in the morning for him to be scolded by his friend. 

Y/N didn't respond to him, simply pushing him into the room and locking the door, making several drivers look up from where they were sitting or standing. 

''Y/N, what are you doing?'' Sebastian spoke up, curious as to what she was up to this time. 

The young woman urged Zhou to get up from his seat and to stand next to her. The man felt a bit embarrassed, but followed her orders. Y/N stood in the place where their director normally sat when he answered the drivers' questions or listened to their concerns. She placed both her hands on the desk, looking like a teacher that was about to scold her students.

''As we all know, Mr. Hamilton over there is widely accepted as the driver with the best style,'' she pointed at Lewis, who nervously smiled as the other drivers glanced at him, ''but that's not why we are gathered here today! We are gathered here today to decide who his successor is. Who is the most stylish person after Lewis? That's a question that we will settle once and for all, here, now, in this room.'' She finished her monologue. 

''Me and Mr. Guanyu found ourselves in a battle for the title of second most stylish driver of the grid, so I challenged him. We would wear our best outfits today and have our lovely colleagues vote for who had the best one. But as you all can see, me and Mr. Dior over here, are wearing the same exact fit.'' Y/N waved her hand between herself and Zhou. 

''So, instead of you deciding who is wearing the best outfit, you'll be voting for the person you think is wearing the outfit best.'' She concluded. 

The crowd had mixed reactions: some looked confused, some seemed entertained by what Y/N had told them and others appeared to not care. 

Kevin was the first one to speak, getting up from his seat and walking towards the door. ''Y/N, this is not the time to do this, we're here to talk about the race.'' He was about to turn the lock when her voice stopped him. 

''Magnussen, you're being a party pooper- do you want to be a party pooper?'' She looked at him sternly, trying to convince him to sit back down and go along with her antics. ''Don't pretend like you're not secretly enjoying this.'' The Haas driver rolled his eyes, but defeatedly put his arms up and went back to his seat. 

''Alright, we'll go around the room and each person says either my name or Zhou's.'' She explained further, moving in front of the desk. 

Checo's hand went up in the air. ''Can we also pass?'' He asked, looking at Y/N. 

''If you refuse to choose, we will consider it sexist and racist as I am a woman and Zhou's Asian.'' She answered him, garnering chuckles around the room and a nervous-looking Zhou who hoped people took it as a joke, since he didn't want to be making enemies as a rookie. 

Y/N clapped her hands together. ''Okay, we'll start with our party pooper, KMag! Me or Zhou?'' 

''Zhou, since he didn't yell at me and didn't call me a party pooper.'' He chose, making the female driver narrow her eyes at him. ''Alright, 1 for Zhou.'' 

The person sat next to Kevin was his teammate, Mick. ''Schumacher!'' He was about to speak, but the woman interrupted him. ''Before you choose, I took inspiration from one of your dad's outfits.'' Y/N tried influencing his decision. 

''I was gonna choose you anyway.'' He told her, making her jump up as her and Zhou had an equal score. ''Thank you, Mickie.'' She smiled brightly at him. 

''Valtteri?'' 

''I choose Zhou, I'm loyal to my teammate.'' He answered, smiling at the man in question. 

''Lando?'' 

''Zhou, because he doesn't humiliate me in front of the entire internet.'' The McLaren driver said, referring to their regular back-and-forths on social media. 

Y/N rolled her eyes. ''You're such a crybaby, Rumplestiltskin.'' Her words caused Lando to give her the middle finger, but it was all in good fun. 

''Anyway, Daniel?'' 

The Australian pretended to think hard about his answer, looking in-between her and Zhou. ''I'm gonna go with Y/N, cause I'm kinda scared what she'll do to me if I don't choose her.'' His answer got a laugh out of the other drivers, some of them nodding their heads. 

Y/N herself couldn't help but break a smile at Daniel's words, happy her friend had chosen her. ''Okay, next one.'' 

The voting was nearing its end and there was a tie, 9 people had chosen Zhou and 9 others had voted for Y/N. It all came down to one person. 

Sir Lewis Hamilton. 

Despite some of the drivers' dislike for the bet at the beginning of the meeting, everyone had gotten pretty invested. ''The maestro himself has to choose his next prodigy.'' Daniel joked, looking at the 7x world champion. 

Lewis shifted in his seat, not too fond of having the last vote on the matter. ''Can't I just say both of you? The two of you look very good.'' 

''No, mate! You have to choose.'' George argued, the others agreeing with him. 

Y/N was quite sure that Lewis would choose her. She was much closer to him than Zhou and the pair had talked about fashion before, discussing how it was a great way to express yourself. She was already designing Zhou's helmet in her mind. 

''Well, then… I guess Zhou.'' 

Her mouth dropped open, shocked that the senior driver had chosen the rookie over her. She wasn't the only one that seemed surprised by his choice, Seb turned around in his seat and Pierre's eyes had widened, mouthing ''wow''. 

The young man next to her, lightly slapped her arm. ''I'll send the design to your team next week, Y/N.'' He teasingly laughed, a big smirk present on his face. 

''This is a joke, right? I can't be number 3!'' She dramatically stated. 

''Hey! What's wrong with being the number 3?'' Daniel looked up, feigning being offended by her words. 

She was about to give another monologue about betrayal and how men are all the same, but several loud knocks on the door interrupted that from happening. Y/N sighed, but took a few steps to turn the lock. 

Their director didn't look too happy. ''Why was the door locked?'' 

''We were having an orgy.'' She sarcastically answered him, not planning on explaining to him why she had blocked the door from opening. 

''Y/N!'' 

The actual driver's briefing began and soon enough most drivers were already dozing off, some of them even wishing Y/N and Zhou's bet had taken a bit longer. They wouldn't admit it to the young woman, but ever since she'd made her arrival to these briefings, her unserious antics had made them much more bearable. Some drivers had even started looking forward to the meetings, because the girl always had something up her sleeve. 

As soon as the last issue was resolved, the meeting ended and everyone was out the door. When Zhou saw Y/N talking with Mick and Esteban, he swiftly moved next to Lewis. ''Hey, man,'' he patted the Brit's shoulder, ''thanks for that, I really appreciate it.'' 

''No problem,'' Lewis smiled, ''we made a deal, I'm keeping my word.'' 

Zhou nodded. ''Yeah, you vote for me and I let you help me design her helmet.'' He recalled the promise they had made a day earlier. 

''Great! I was thinking we just collect all kinds of embarrassing pictures of her and plaster them all around her helmet…''

''Great! I was thinking we just collect all kinds of embarrassing pictures of her and plaster them all around her helmet…''

''Great! I was thinking we just collect all kinds of embarrassing pictures of her and plaster them all around her helmet…''

#f1 fic #f1 fics #f1 x reader #formula 1 fic #f1 x oc #f1 female driver #female f1 driver #zhou guanyu x reader #zhou guanyu x oc #f1 grid x oc #f1 grid x reader

[hispg]

Between royalty and vows

Pairings: Prince! Leon x Fem! Reader

Summary: A forced marriage, a fate set in stone, nothing could change that.

In the world of royalty, there were no choices, only obligations to fulfill. What you didn't expect was to become engaged to a renowned prince, ready to succeed the lineage.

Until that moment, you still had some hope that everything would work out, maybe it wasn't so bad. But it would be a shame if your future husband had a mistress.

Wouldn't it?

Wc: 2.8k

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt/ comfort, cheating, arranged marriage, eventual smut, one-sided love, affairs, manipulative behavior from Leon, male chauvinism, misogyny (I'll put more once things start to progress).

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 |

Chapter 7: Unforgettable

The sun was only just coming up, but you had already been awake for a long time. You weren't even allowed to sleep properly that day, after all, the bride had to get up early to prepare for the big occasion. The wedding.

You were surrounded by the queen's ladies, several seamstresses and other maids, some of whom you had never seen set foot in this castle.

In this preparation, no part of you was forgotten, you were adorned from head to toe, from the veil that covered your head to the delicate satin shoes that embellished your feet. Not even if you looked for a strand of hair out of place would you find one. You were dressed like a queen, a beauty so stunning that it could make anyone fall at your feet.

Everyone but the one you wanted.

When your eyes caught sight of yourself in the mirror, you could see every detail of your dress with the utmost clarity. The delicate silk, the lace seams that made sophisticated patterns, just by looking at it you could tell it was too expensive.

The jewelry that Leon had given you a few days ago was now all on you, from necklaces to earrings, or the crown that was on your head, which he had also chosen for you.

You were the bride, but you felt like a stranger in your own wedding, as if it wasn't yours, the intruder was you, the bride herself.

"You look beautiful, Your Highness." One of the maids said, looking at you with admiration.

You then smiled, a forced but beautiful smile, and thanked her with a nod of your head. You made a few more adjustments to your dress yourself. Until then, without realizing the queen's presence at the door, the lady looked at you from top to bottom.

"You look perfect, dear." She said in a velvety voice, approaching you.

Since the last 'disagreement' with the queen, she had been a little distant from you, but apparently everything had passed and she was acting as if nothing had happened. Maybe she just wants to make up.

"You're the perfect suitor for my son, that's why I chose you." She says, as if proud of the fact.

"Thank you, Your Grace." You say in a soft voice, keeping your smile.

She paused, coming up behind you and putting her hands on your shoulders.

Of course you knew your obligation as a woman, but hearing her say that she chose you as if you were just a pretty product on the shelf, didn't seem right.

"I imagine it wasn't easy." You say, trying to get into the same frame of mind as her.

She then nodded, gently adjusting a few details of your veil.

"It's hard to find someone who's worthy of being a prince's wife, it's not easy, being a good wife is a hard chore." She says, letting her fingers trace your necklace.

You gave her a sidelong glance, gathering all your respect, holding your tongue so as not to say something you might regret.

"I'm sure I'll be adequate." You replied politely.

"I'm sure of it, I can already imagine that you'll be able to liven up this castle. Especially when you start giving me heirs." That word sent shivers down your spine, not in a good way.

You always thought that having children would come from an act of passionate love, from those tenuous moments that formed between a couple. But it didn't take long for you to realize that it was just an obligation, and that sooner or later you would be forced to fulfill it.

"Are you already thinking of heirs, Majesty?" You murmured, thinking out loud and not realizing that you had said it out loud.

In a quiet response, she let her hands rest on your abdomen, as if she were seeing the prospect of a child in there.

"That's one of your main purposes, dear. To give my son heirs." You tried your best not to feel disgusted by the tone used, but the idea that you were just an object, destined to fulfill a role at court, was disturbing.

"I also depend on your son's will." You say, gently and firmly removing her hands from your body.

You knew what she was getting at with this manipulation.

"My son will not disappoint." She retorts, watching you support yourself on your heels and head for the exit of your room.

"No of course he won't, he already has." You say without thinking, sharp, harsh words slipping out of your mouth.

You only saw the queen change her expression, which at this point was no longer friendly, but had turned into a gray, angry expression. As if sent from heaven, Chris was charged with taking you to the carriage, and to your surprise he was already waiting for you at the door.

"Your Highness." He said with the same cutting smile as always, expecting you to accompany him.

And you did so without much thought, walking alongside him, trying to disguise the nervous look on your face

"Leon is already waiting for you at the cathedral." He says politely, helping you down the stairs.

"Oh, then we should hurry." You say, lifting up your dress so you can walk more quickly.

"We'll be there in time, don't worry." He assures you, holding your hand as you descend.

Once you had reached the main hall, you heard buzzing here and there, but you couldn't quite make it out. Until you focused your attention on a subject that was of great interest to you.

"I hear that Princess Ashley is very ill! She won't even be able to attend the wedding!" One of the maids commented to Ausdret, who was listening attentively.

"Get back to your duties, there's a lot to do!" Ausdret retorted, giving no room for any gossip to continue.

Ashley sick, a severe cold? Or some more serious illness? In fact, she'd have to be very ill not to attend such an event, or perhaps it's an excuse?

Chris certainly sensed your uncertainty, and promptly muttered, "It'll be fine. You look gorgeous, and so will the wedding."

You felt a small sense of relief, but it was enough to make you put your head together and think about the day ahead.

"Yes, it'll be fine." You murmured back to Chris, sounding more like something to you than to him.

In a cozy silence, he took you to the carriage waiting outside, where they were already waiting for you.

"Good luck, Your Highness." Chris whispers just for you to hear, giving you a gentle smile.

You nod, trying to force your best smile. Despite the storm in your heart, you needed to keep everything in order. Once you got into the luxurious carriage, you knew there was no turning back. And you had chosen that, now all you had to do was wait for the road to end and you would be at the altar, sealing an illusory commitment.

Once you got out of the carriage, you heard the trumpets sounding to announce your arrival, and that's when you began to walk calmly, always keeping your smile and elegance, your head held high as you were the target of the party's prying eyes. Your father was already waiting for you at the entrance to the cathedral, ready to take you down the aisle.

On the way to the altar, you didn't know if it was harder to walk in a dress that size or if the weight of your heart was more significant than that. When the trumpets stopped, all you could hear was the faint applause, the low murmurs here and there, which were so low that you couldn't identify what they were about.

The cathedral was packed, so many people there and you didn't even know half of them, but if they were there, they were certainly important people.

In the distance you could see your family, who smiled proudly at you, your mother with her eyes watering almost to the point of tears, and of course for her everything was perfect, and even if it wasn't, your family and his would act as if everything was a beautiful fairy tale.

Your walk down the aisle was soon marked by the orchestra, playing the standard wedding tune, the sounds echoing through the room as you this time took your focus off your family, and managed to spot your groom, waiting impatiently for you at the altar.

Hate him all you want, but he was breathtaking. Leon found himself wearing a black suit, his eupalette shining when the sun reflected off them, his hair slicked back in a style you hadn't seen him wear before. When you saw him return your gaze, you felt butterflies blooming in your stomach, your breath catching in your throat, causing you to hold the flowers in your hands tighter. He looked so beautiful, you could gasp just looking at him.

Step by step you finally reached the altar, making a small courtesy, and your father gave you a small blessing, and you promptly positioned yourself next to the prince. You were so close, so far apart, almost tying the knot, but still far from finding each other.

Once silence prevailed, the priest cleared his throat and looked at everyone, but specifically at the two of you.

"I appreciate everyone's presence for the celebration of this union. I request that you all take your places so that we can begin the ceremony." The priest said, looking at everyone seriously, but with a certain joy in his eyes.

"We are here today to initiate the union between two kingdoms, between two young lovers." The older man says, his attention focused on the pieces of paper on the lectern.

Who in the whole kingdom wouldn't be happy about such a union?

Everyone sits down and stares at the two of you, the youngest couple about to be married.

"We are here to witness, before God and the whole kingdom, the conjuncture and union between two royals, a prince and a princess, who will soon be our next majesties." Once again the priest spoke, this was his moment to speak, and he would make the importance of this union even clearer.

And then he looks up at the two of you, speaking seriously once again, " Matrimony is a sacred union, not to be broken by anything. The only plausible explanation for breaking that holy and sacred union, is death."

These words sent a chill down your spine, and you couldn't help but swallow when you found yourself facing this situation. Only death could separate the two of you.

What could be a love story for any couple in love, for you, God forgive you, seemed to be more of a curse than anything else.

With a glance from the priest, you saw a girl approaching, carrying the rings on a small cushion. They were made of pure metal, shining so brightly that they were striking even from a distance. Yours had his name engraved on it, along with a diamond at the top.

Leon's ring, on the other hand, also had your name on it, but no stones or other adornments. This was the time to exchange vows, the moment when the two of you would make promises and promises of love.

Another girl came and gently took the bouquet of flowers from your hand, so that you could turn around and face Leon, and the two of you were staring at each other. And you didn't see a hint of love in Leon's eyes, maybe you found some emotion, and it was probably discontent.

Leon then took your hands in his, his warm, larger hands wrapped around yours, and you felt a sudden shiver at the small act.

"Do you promise, Leon Scott Kennedy, to take," he then spoke your name, "as your lawfully wedded wife, to love her, comfort her, honor her and guard her, in sickness and in health, in joy and in sorrow, as long as you both shall live?"

The silence was deafening, everything was quiet except for the sound of your heart beating in your ears, and at the slightest gesture, you squeezed his hand even harder.

At the same moment, you saw him press his lips together tightly, his emotions screaming inside him, the pain between having to seal an incorrigible path, put everything he once wanted to the test, override the desire to follow his heart.

With a certain apprehension, he picked up the ring, removed your gloves, and then slid the ring onto your ring finger.

"Yes… I promise." He says, without any conviction, for the first time you saw his gaze empty, but at the same time you could see the melancholy present there.

"Do you promise," the priest began, clearly speaking your full name before continuing, "to take Leon Scott Kennedy as your lawful wedded husband, to love him, comfort him, honor him and guard him, in sickness and in health, in joy and in sorrow, as long as you both shall live?"

His hesitation to answer was an answer as clear as a thousand words.

But now his oath had been made, all that was left was for you.

With your mind working a thousand miles a minute, all you did was look deep into Leon's eyes, as if you were searching for something there, perhaps something to calm your nerves. But he was looking for the same thing in you, so you were both looking for solace, when you wouldn't have any.

When you saw the people looking at you with a certain astonishment, seeing that you were slow to respond, you also reached for the wedding ring that sealed the marriage, taking Leon's hand in yours as you placed the jewel on his finger.

"Yes, I promise." You said in a whisper, just giving the priest and Leon a chance to hear.

You could already hear some murmurs forming in the cathedral, but you couldn't make out what they were about. A request for silence from the priest was enough to stop all sound, and silence took over once again.

A sound of the priest cleaning his throat, was enough for you to come back to reality and stop staring at Leon, paying attention to what the priest had to say.

"In the sight of God and of people, I now pronounce you husband and wife. May this unification be full of fruits and joys, may it bring to our country what we need. And may you both be happy and blessed by God." For the first time you see the priest give the two of you a slight smile and then mutter:

"You must seal the union with a kiss." The phrase gave you butterflies in your stomach, and it didn't take more than a few seconds for Leon to bring his face close to yours.

At that moment, all you could feel was the blush rising to your cheeks, and everything around it disappeared once he locked his lips onto yours, gently placing a hand on your cheek to hold you in place.

You closed your eyes and let yourself be carried away by the sensation, your lips on his as you moved in sync, in a gentle and sweet way.

If everything was as sweet as this moment was being, then you would feel complete. But life is not a bed of roses.

Once you parted, you leaned your foreheads together, and listened to the various cheers and whistles you saw from everyone watching.

"I promise you'll be happy." Leon whispered to you, and you didn't know if it was worse that he was lying in front of God, or that you believed it so easily.

"I hope so." You reply with a weak smile, looking at him deeply.

When the two of you turned your faces away a little, you were faced with a crowd of emotional people looking at you. Some smiled, some cried, but everyone seemed to be happy for the two of you.

You knew it was far from over, you still had the reception, the ball, and the tedious conversations that would go on for endless minutes.

But since all these real commitments would be over before nightfall, you would soon be going on honeymoon with Leon.

A thought that would almost certainly be a dream for couples in love. But you didn't know whether to be apprehensive or disappointed, perhaps even intrigued. You'd be lying if you said that the idea of sleeping with him didn't make your knees weak.

In any case, when the two of you went on your honeymoon, you would indeed play your part as his wife. Something about that was strangely excoriating.

And when that happened, you were his, officially his.

You were his.

Oh, you were his.

Taglist: @gollumsmygel, @quemmysworld, @loveoverdosing, @delulusimps, @d3jecteddoll, @kennedyleyy, @acriixys, @deredvv, @luminehallowss

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon x reader #leon s kennedy #leon x y/n #leon x you #leon resident evil #leon scott kennedy x reader #resident evil leon #leon scott kennedy x you #leon s kennedy smut #leon smut

[asahicore]

moonlight - psh (m)

this work contains smut - minors please do not interact pairing. dancer!sunghoon x fem!reader synopsis. In August 1963, your monotonous summer vacation becomes a lot more exciting when you meet a group of dancers that work as the entertainment staff of the resort you and your family are staying at. Your fascination with them, and particularly dancers and close friends Sunghoon and Chaewon, pushes you to help them out by taking Chaewon's place at another hotel's show when she's unable to dance. The week you spend with Sunghoon as he teaches you to dance and the events thereafter give you a lot more than the ability to mambo. genre. dirty dancing au, strangers to lovers, summer au, poor boy x rich girl trope, the Big 3 (fluff angst n smut) word count. 32.2k a/n. it's finally here !!! i've been working on this for a while so i hope you guys will like it, please lmk what u think ur feedback is super important to me !!! if you've seen dirty dancing you'll see that this is like.. a complete copy of the movie lmaooo i'm sorry i didn't wanna stray from the plot cz i love it 2 much <//3 i'll make a posting schedule shortly after this so you guys can see which of my old works i'll be reposting and all that :)) enjoy !! also thanks to @ozymandia-s for betareading this u deserve the world and u made this fic a thousand times better <333 and yep thats a compliment from me to u so u better treasure it fr.

It’s the summer of 1963, everybody calls you Baby, and it hasn’t occurred to you to mind. You’re 18, have plans to change the world, and are sure there isn’t a better man than your father.

After years of being too busy to leave work for over a week, your father has finally retired, and you can all go on a long, well-deserved summer break. Like most people your age, your dream vacation would be to backpack through Europe or Asia, discovering the wonders the world has to offer, meeting people from all walks of life and eating all sorts of foreign delicacies. But your parents wish for something more laid-back, so, on the first Sunday of August, after a six-hour drive, you get out of the car at Kellerman’s, a summer resort that belongs to your father’s old friend. You are to spend the rest of the month here, until the last day of the season.

The resort is truly a sight to behold. Even though it’s only four floors high, the main building is downright massive in terms of how much space it occupies. You can imagine the many rooms it must hold, such as the different restaurants and their respective kitchens, the ballroom and other leisure rooms, the stage for various shows, and some offices and apartments where the highest members of staff reside. Tables are scattered all across the front lawn, mainly older ladies and gentlemen sitting at them, drinking lemonade, playing cards, gossiping. You can make out a golf course and a small pond from afar, as well as the back lawn where you’re told most of the activities take place. Such activities include the outdoor dancing lessons, which your mother and sister Seeun want to get to immediately.

Max, your father’s friend, greets you as soon as you arrive as if he’s been waiting for you. Amused, you watch as they clasp each other’s hand before coming into an embrace, giving three hard but friendly pats to the other’s back. “So glad to finally have you here, Doc,” Max says earnestly. “I promise you, one week here and you’ll feel like you’ve never worked a day in your life, that’s how relaxed you’ll be.” Your father laughs and nods, and you turn your attention away when they start talking about work, and how life’s been, and how your daughters have grown, and other things you don’t care much for. 

You notice that a member of staff has begun to unload your numerous bags from the trunk, about half of which are your sister’s (“See, Mommy, I told you I should’ve brought those coral heels!” you hear her complain), and start helping him out. He turns to you with a smile as you haul a suitcase onto the trolley.

“Hey, thanks a lot! You looking for a job here?” he jokes, making you smile.

“Just wanted to help out, but I’ll let you know. I’m Baby, by the way.”

“Baby? Is that your real name?” he asks with an amused expression and a quizzical tilt to his head.

“No, but it’s what everyone calls me,” you beam back.

“Alright then, Baby. I’m Jake.” He wipes some sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand before extending it to you, and you take it, shaking it enthusiastically. 

Your conversation stops there when your father calls out your name, motioning for you to follow him and your mother and sister. “Come, Baby, let the staff do their work.” You give Jake an apologetic smile and wave him goodbye, but he simply shrugs and turns away, seemingly used to this kind of dismissal from guests.

“See you around, Baby,” you hear him say as you start to walk away.

-

Seeun only gives you a few minutes to settle into your shared room and unpack your suitcase before she practically drags you outside, eager to get to the dance class in time. Your older sister absolutely loves dancing. No matter where or with who, if there’s music, she’ll start moving. 

You, on the other hand, have two left feet, which doesn’t make dancing such a fun activity. You like it, but always feel you look like a fool. As for dancing with a partner, the intimacy that comes with it is too much for you, and isn’t something you particularly want to share with boys you barely know, nevermind complete strangers, like the people at the merengue class your sister is making you rush to. 

It takes place in the gazebo, which is wide enough to host about thirty guests and the instructor, who introduces herself as Chaewon. You try to follow her “1, 2, 1, 2” as best you can but it’s hard to focus on the rhythm when you have to avoid being stepped on by the lady to your left and stepping on the man to your right. Everything around you is turned upside down when she cheerfully calls out, “Let’s get into a circle! Gents on the outside, ladies on the inside! C’mon now!”

You manage to make your way into the inner circle, holding onto the hips of the woman in front of you, and finally start to sway to the rhythm a bit more. “Come on ladies! God wouldn’t have given you this body if he didn’t want you to shake it!” Chaewon shouts enthusiastically, emphasizing on the “shake” with a movement of her own.

“On the count of three,” she calls out, “ladies, you’ll turn around, and meet the man of your dreams! 1, 2, 3!”

You find yourself face to face with a grandma that had ended up in the gents’ circle and force on your best smile as you dance with her. She looks delighted, but that expression might just be stuck on her face permanently.

The class comes to an end and the afternoon with it, and you leave the bungalow while everyone gets ready for dinner, yelling out that you’re going to look around as you close the door behind you. It’s the early evening and the sun has just started to set, but not enough for the gentle breeze to be too cold. The small, round bushes and colorful flowers that line the pebbled path from the bungalows to the main building have been expertly tended to; there isn’t a stray weed, nor branch that hasn’t been cut properly nor a wilting plant. It’s all so perfect, it almost looks fake. Yet, when you bend down to feel a petal, it’s soft under your fingertips and very much real.

You walk on the porch that surrounds the main building until you reach the outside entrance to the restaurant. Max’s booming voice catches your attention and you’re able to peek through the ajar door, making sure you can’t be seen from where you stand. Your father’s friend sits at a table while the waiters stand in a half-circle in front of him, hands locked behind them and heads slightly bowed.

“Tonight’s the start of the second half of the season, so I’ll use this opportunity to set a little reminder. You’re here because I chose you lot from the most prestigious schools in the country and you need some financial help, correct?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “So do your job, and do it well. And if you want extra compensation, the gents here may be very generous if you show their daughters a good time and keep their wives happy. But no funny business, you keep your hands off. Got it?”

A quiet flurry of yeses is heard throughout the room just as a group of young people stride in, the sight of them piquing your interest. They’re wearing much more fitted and fashionable clothes compared to the waiters’ simple white vests and trousers, and carry themselves with a confidence you’ve only seen in celebrities and important people. The man that leads them particularly catches your attention: slicked-back hair, useless sunglasses now that the sun has set, all-black clothes, too much leather for the summer weather and the prettiest face you think you’ve ever seen to top it all off. He looks like an off-duty movie star.

“You hear that, boys? No funny business,” he says with a smirk to the group behind him, and they chuckle in response, eyeing the waiters up and down. They work at the same establishment, but they seem to be from two totally different worlds, you notice.

“I think you’re the one who should keep that in mind,” one of the waiters says just as the group passes by him, just loud enough for the other guy to hear. He reacts immediately to the taunt, spinning around and pointing a threatening finger to the waiter’s chest. 

“And I think you should heed your own advice, you jackass,” he spits, unfiltered venom in his voice. The waiter only smirks condescendingly, as if proud his remark had struck a nerve.

“Alright, alright, calm down, Sunghoon, and lay off of Heeseung. You’re booked and busy this week, and your whole entertainment team has work to do, okay?” Max says, tone stern as if telling a child off.

Sunghoon takes a step back but doesn’t look away from Heeseung as he scoffs a simple whatever. He then pivots back around and leads his team out of the room. You decide you’ve seen enough and turn around yourself, heading back to your family’s bungalow with quick steps.

Barely half an hour later, you’re back at the restaurant. The tables have all been set, the candles have been lit, a band is playing soft jazz in the corner, and the waiters are taking care of the guests’ orders and keeping them content. You’ve just sat down when Max himself approaches, introducing your waiter for tonight to your table. You try not to let your astonishment show when you instantly recognise him as the one who had had that scuff with Sunghoon earlier.

“Doc, this is Heeseung Lee, and he’ll take care of you tonight,” he addresses your father, a paternal hand around Heeseung’s shoulder. “He’s a third year med student at Harvard and has been working here every summer for the past three years. A very reliable and hardworking young man.” You feel like you’re being sold a car, but your father just smiles and nods approvingly at Heeseung.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Heeseung,” your father greets, holding out a hand for the young man to shake.

“The pleasure’s all mine, Doctor,” Heeseung responds, a most dazzling smile on his lips. If you hadn’t seen him earlier, you wouldn’t believe that this smile could turn snarky and patronizing.

“This is my wife, our eldest Seeun and our youngest Y/N, but we all call her Baby. She’s going to change the world,” your father introduces, beaming proudly at you.

“Yeah, and Seeun’s going to decorate it,” you say, turning to your sister. A bit unprovoked, perhaps, but this is just the way you and your sister have always been. You smile and tilt your head innocently as she glares at you.

“I think she already does,” Heeseung says, your eyebrow raising up in surprise as your sister looks down at her hands, the sudden compliment making her blush.

“Alright, Heeseung, go get these folks our best champagne. On the house!” Max exclaims, beaming at your parents.

“Yes, sir,” Heeseung says, bowing his head slightly to Max and your table before shooting your sister a smile and walking off. 

“Oh, and here’s someone else I want to introduce to you - Jay, come here! That’s my grandson Jay. Yale Business School,” Max says emphatically. Jay approaches your table quickly, a somewhat self-assured yet awkward smile on his face. He greets your parents and sister with a nod of his head until his eyes settle on you. “This is Baby, I was telling you about her earlier. She’s going to study at Yale too, and her dad says she’ll change the world!”

Jay’s lips form a pout, the kind of pout one makes when watching kittens play or a child running to his mother, as if he finds your ambitions endearing. Used to this kind of reaction from men, you raise your eyebrows and a small smile spreads on your face as if to say, “yep, that’s me.”

“How nice, Baby. But before you go off and do that, how about you save me a dance? Tomorrow night at the ball?” he offers, and the urge to kick him in the balls is hard to resist, but resist you must.

“Of course she will!” your father answers for you, and you have no choice but to put on your best fake smile, but none of the three men seem to see through it. If your mother and sister notice how annoyed you are, they don’t say anything. Knowing them, they probably think you’re being unreasonable if you’re not already throwing yourself at such an obviously intelligent and respectable young man.

That’s how you find yourself the next day, hands stiffly clasped behind Jay’s neck and his own on the sides of your waist, dancing with him to a slow-paced but lighthearted live song, although dancing might be an overstatement as it’s impossible to find a proper rhythm with someone as clumsy as him. You never thought you’d meet a worse dancer than you, but here you were. You have to keep yourself from snorting everytime he winces or tuts when you “accidentally” step on his foot, and you make sure to leave ample room between the two of you for the Holy Spirit.

Most of the dance is spent in awkward silence, probably due to the fact that Jay’s gaze, one that is perhaps meant to be seductive but only comes off as creepy, seems to linger on you for too long and too many times. When a pair of kids spins right by you, looking far more talented and serious in their dancing than the two of you, Jay seems to think he needs to step up his game and tightens his grip on your waist. Although you try to disguise it as best you can, the action makes you look up at him in alarm, and you have to stop yourself from visibly flinching when he bends down to say something in your ear although the music isn’t that loud.

“So, Yale, huh? What are you going to study? Design?”

“Um, Environmental Studies and Politics, actually. I’m particularly interested in how underdeveloped countries work and how we can change things there for the better, rather than making things worse,” you correct him, slightly raising your voice so he can hear you from where you’re standing. 

Jay is visibly taken aback by your detailed response, and all he can do is nod. “Right, right, that’s-”

To no one’s disappointment, you never find out what Jay was going to say next because right then, the music suddenly picks up and one of the musicians announces “Sunghoon and Chaewon of the Entertainment Team for a mambo demonstration” into his mic. Your ears perk up at the sound of those two vaguely familiar names, and you quickly recognise Sunghoon as the leather-clad man from earlier and Chaewon as the merengue class instructor from yesterday. He’s now wearing a black suit jacket and matching trousers with a tight white button-up, the clothes fitting him perfectly and making the muscles underneath them appear when the light hits him just right. On her is one of the most beautiful dresses you’ve ever seen, the red fringed fabric draping over her body like it was created for her, her toned upper back and arms on display.

The crowd of guests quickly forms a circle around the couple, giving them enough space to put on their show, and everyone, including you, is immediately enthralled by their performance. You’re mesmerized by how elegant and energetic at once their dance is, the smiles on their faces unfaltering and their legs and arms forming perfect lines at all times. Their posture is proud and their gazes are always fixed on each other even as they spin around, somehow never getting dizzy. They move in perfect synchronization as one entity rather than two separate people simply dancing together, and even though it is probably due to an impressive amount of practice, you can’t help but find that their chemistry is what makes them so fascinating. When he lifts her into the air, it’s with so little effort that she looks like she weighs no more than a feather. There is not a step out of place, and you’re reminded of those impeccable bushes and flowers from the day before. It makes you wonder how it is possible for two people to look so perfect together, and if that perfection is only superficial or not.

“Who are they?” you ask Jay, your curiosity about them greater than your aversion to talking to him.

From the corner of your eye, you see him looking surprised by your question before he leans in and answers. “Sunghoon Park and Chaewon Kim. They’re part of the dance people. Here to keep the guests happy and entertained.” He sighs, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head in discontentment. “They shouldn’t be showing off with each other like that, it won’t sell lessons. I’ll need to have a talk with them later.”

You barely register Jay’s words after he’s answered your question, your attention focused back on the dancers in front of you. On the other side of the room, you spot Max frowning at them and marching towards them. As soon as Sunghoon and Chaewon notice him, he waves them off and they separate, choosing a guest as their new partner to dance with, which you assume is their way of doing a taster session.

Jay drags you off to sit at a table and for the better part of an hour, you let him bore your ears off as he tells you either things he can’t fathom you’d already know even though you do, or things you couldn’t care any less about. It’s such a shame that a man with that handsome a face and that charming a smile would have the stalest of personalities, yet deem himself the most interesting man to walk the Earth. You nod and hum when you’re supposed to, and that’s all he needs to think you’re listening intently, when really you can’t stop thinking about the dancers you just saw, and even steal glances at them still dancing with some guests mere meters away from you. All you want to do is get up and get Sunghoon’s, or even Chaewon’s attention so they could show you how to move like them - just touching their shoulder or waist would be thrilling. But when you catch your mother’s eye a few tables away and she beams at you, two thumbs up in the air, you know you need to stay planted in your chair.

Thankfully, the amount of guests in the room starts to dwindle, and you use this dip in the evening to run off, telling Jay it’s getting late and you need to get back to your bungalow. You don’t let him try to convince you to stay back, and grab your purse, excitedly waving goodbye at him. He’s probably confused, but you’re too giddy at the prospect of finally leaving to care. 

You were on your way to the bungalow, you really were - but just as you reach it, light from a tall lodge about five hundred meters away catches your attention, and you’re too curious about the building you hadn’t noticed before not to investigate. So you continue walking up the small hill where all the guest lodgings rest until you find yourself before a sign that reads “STAFF QUARTERS - GUESTS KEEP OUT,” which you promptly decide to ignore.

In just a minute, a wooden bridge reveals itself, enabling you to cross over the current that separates you from the other bank, where the lodge stands. If you looked to your right, you could’ve made out some more, smaller and dingier-looking bungalows than the guests’ that hosted the staff behind all those trees, but you run into a familiar face before you can take notice of them.

“Hey! I recognize you. Baby, right?”

“Yeah, and you’re Jake!” you beam, surprised not only by seeing him again here, but by the three huge watermelons he carries in his arms like oversized newborn triplets. 

“Yeah…” he trails, squinting his eyes at you, his enthusiasm turning into suspicion. “You can’t be here. Max would kill me. Go back to the dance, Baby.” He can only take a few steps forward before you grab a watermelon from his unsteady hold, putting your most convincing smile on.

“I’ll help you carry these!” you state rather than offer, and march forwards across the bridge. Behind you, Jake sighs and shakes his head, then rushes to stop you in your tracks.

“Didn’t you read the sign? This area is staff only, you can’t be here,” he repeats, punctuating his words. He stays unwavering even at the receiving end of your very menacing glare, so you simply huff and stack the watermelon back on top of the other two and turn away. It takes him approximately two seconds to change his mind. “Can you keep a secret?”

Jake doesn’t prepare you for what you’re about to see when you enter the staff common lodge, but you don’t think anything could. The smell of a room full of people sweating and moving about hits you instantly, the heat it creates hanging heavy in the air. The breeze coming in through the open windows is practically useless in bringing the temperature down, but you aren’t curious to find out what it’d be like with the windows closed.

The music, a genre your father always bristles at when he hears it on the radio, is now blasting in your ears rather than whistling through the wind, and it takes you a few moments to adjust to the volume and intensity of the bass and drums bouncing off the walls of the room. The guitar sound is sensual and almost yearning, the singer longs for his lover, and the tempo is just fast enough for the dancers to find a swaying rhythm.

As if the lyrics themselves aren’t enough to make you blush, the way the staff dances makes you feel like you’re intruding on something. You try to look away as a couple thrusts their hips into each other’s, only to find another lowering themselves to the group until they’re crouching then slowly rising again, using each other as support the whole time. Skirts bunched up around hips, shirts almost fully unbuttoned or even discarded, hands grabbing onto the partner’s clothes or bare skin - you’ve never seen anyone dance that way. Far from the choreographed performances you’re used to, here, they’re simply letting their bodies move to the music without any second thoughts or a care in the world. You hadn’t even known this could be considered dancing, but surely, when your body molds itself this perfectly to the melody and your partner’s hands, then you can only be dancing. 

Watermelon in arms, you follow Jake as he snakes his way to the back of the room through sweaty bodies holding each other close. You recognise a few people here and there as the entertainment staff who host activities, teach dance classes or help guests find their way around. They peer back at you, expressions either confused or disdainful - you aren’t sure whether that’s because they don’t know who you are, or because they do and don’t like seeing you there. Even if they don’t know that you’re Baby, your dress at least is a dead giveaway of your being a guest. Your mom had picked it out for you - a white sleeveless summer dress that reaches almost to your knees and cinches in at the waist before flowing out over your hips. And no cleavage, of course. Along with your impeccably curled and styled hair, your prim and proper attire is a far cry from the short skirts, tight t-shirts and denim that the staff wears, revealing sunkissed skin and toned muscles. And if all of that still isn’t enough to tell you apart, then your wide eyes like a kid seeing fireworks for the first time should do it.

You finally reach the back of the room and set your watermelon on a bar counter. Jake rests his hands on his hips and watches the dancers, a smile on his face, the kind of smile you wear when you can never get enough of a sight even though you witness it everyday. You watch them too, but you must look a mix of fascinated and terrified - sure, they all look terrific, but if your dad caught you here, you’d be dead.

“Where’d they learn to do that?” you lean in to ask Jake as the next song starts playing, your gaze not leaving the dancers who adjust easily to the more upbeat tempo.

He looks at you, stunned. “Don’t you know? This is how the kids dance these days. This is what American basements look like on Friday nights.” His surprise turns into amusement and he steps in front of you, one hand extended for you to take and a mischievous look on his face. “Wanna try?”

Your eyes immediately double in size and you shake your hands in front of you, but he grabs one of them anyway and starts leading you back into the middle of the room. You’re saved by the doors suddenly bursting open, catching everyone’s attention. In run Sunghoon and Chaewon, wearing the same clothes from earlier, although Sunghoon has ditched the suit jacket and popped the top buttons of his shirt open. Your stomach flips at the sight of his flushed cheeks and hair slick with sweat.

Jake chuckles when he sees how transfixed you are by the two of them, dancing so differently from earlier, their moves far more sexual, hands not so polite anymore, completely free to do whatever they wish. Rather than a smile, Sunghoon wears a small frown and bites his bottom lip, deepening his dimples, and it all seems to make each of his moves that much harsher. The sheer sex appeal that he exudes is absolutely undeniable, and it makes you feel things you’ve never felt before - things you’re not quite unsure how to name. You let out a small gasp as Chaewon jumps and hooks her legs around his hips effortlessly, then as she leans her upper body back until her head almost touches the ground. Sunghoon’s hands are tight around her waist and his biceps apparent under the thin fabric of his dress shirt. You realize how strong Sunghoon must be when he carries her all the way to his shoulders, letting her rest her knees there as she plays with her skirt and swings her head from side to side. You’ve never seen anyone look so good while having so much fun.

“They look great together,” you blurt out without thinking.

“Don’t they?” Jake says, looking out at them with a fond smile. “You’d think they were a couple.”

This makes your head pivot towards Jake. “Well, aren’t they?”

“Not since we were kids, no. They’ve just been dancing together for so long that they’ve developed this- this chemistry and understanding of each other, I guess.” 

“Do you know them well?”

“Sunghoon’s my best friend from home. He met Chaewon when he started working here when we were 16, and then he got me this job when we were 17. The three of us are 22 now.” He meets your gaze and his smile grows wider. “Why, you interested?”

The sudden question (and the very obvious, very embarrassing answer) takes you aback and you stammer out a few nonsensical syllables before frowning at him. Your reaction just seems to amuse him. “No, I’m not. Just asking,” you manage to say.

He looks back at them, and you follow his gaze. “Well, good, cause we’re not allowed to get involved with the guests anyway. Which is why you shouldn’t be here in the first place.”

Just then, the song ends and Sunghoon and Chaewon laugh before they separate, finding another partner to dance with. As Chaewon heads towards someone else, Sunghoon catches your stare and walks to where you and Jake stand, eyes fixed on your face. You feel small under his gaze, but you will your knees not to buckle underneath you, although that’s hard to do when his eyes sweep your figure, giving you a once-over.

“What’s she doing here?” he questions Jake without looking away from you.

“That’s Baby, she came with me,” Jake says, not really answering the question.

“I carried a watermelon,” you blurt, not really answering the question either, but that seems to satisfy Sunghoon. His eyebrows raise slightly before he heads back to the dancefloor and starts dancing again. You release a breath you hadn’t known you were holding, but another one catches right in your throat when, after barely thirty seconds, he pivots back around as if there was still something he was curious about. His eyes stay focused on you, unreadable.

And then, he bows his head slightly, looks up at you through his eyebrows, raises his hand, and beckons you to him with his index finger. As if spellbound, your feet move on their own until you find yourself in front of him, his hands reaching immediately for your hips and holding on tight there. All the nerves in your body are on edge and your heartbeat speeds up, almost matching the fast tempo of the song resonating throughout the room. Simply remembering to breathe becomes an arduous task. Jake’s voice is a faint sound as he says, “So you go dance with him, but not me?”

This kind of dancing is completely unfamiliar to you, so you have no idea what to do. Thankfully, Sunghoon doesn’t seem to expect anything else, and he knows how to guide you so that you get the gist of it. “Keep your eyes on me,” he commands quietly, gesturing with two fingers for your gaze to stay on his. “And move your hips in a circle, just like that,” he adds, executing the move for you to mirror. “Just relax, you’re too stiff. Relax your arms. Put them around my shoulders.” His hands brush down from your shoulders to your wrists, sending a trail of fire all along your arms, grabbing them and resting them on his shoulders himself before settling back on your waist. His arm snakes its way around it, bringing you closer to him. You aren’t sure what’s more electrifying, his gaze or his touch.

You start to focus on the music and on getting your body to move along to it, and it feels like a miracle when your hips, firmly pressed against his own, sway side-to-side in rhythm. Remembering what you saw earlier, you lean back slightly, hips still moving in small circles, trusting him to keep you from falling. You lean back as far as you can, and something about it is so liberating, you feel the adrenaline rushing through your body as if it’s the only thing keeping you alive. When you come back up, your palms are flat against his chest and he looks at you with a proud but surprised smirk that lits your insides up. “Just like that,” he whispers, but his face is close enough for you to hear him over the music.

He spins you around a few times, and as quickly as he appeared, he’s already gone, having weaved his way through the crowd back towards Jake. It takes you a few seconds to register his absence, but when it does, it’s like all the warmth he filled you with is gone; you’re left only with the heavy heat weighing the room down and you with it, when you’d felt light like air not a moment ago.

Before you can decide on what to do next, someone taps your shoulder, and you turn around to find Heeseung frowning down at you. In the fraction of a second, you can tell this is the snarky Heeseung that you’d seen when you were snooping around the day before rather than the polite Heeseung that had waited your table that night.

“Baby, right? I don’t know what you’re doing here, but your sister and parents are looking all over for you. If I were you, I’d go now, and quick.”

Alarm shoots through you as you realize you’d been here for twenty minutes at least, the sort of absence that wouldn’t go unnoticed by your family this late at night. You thank him rapidly and practically run towards the door before risking a look back at Jake and Sunghoon, still standing in the corner of the room. Jake looks worried, so you send him a thumbs up, but Sunghoon simply peers at you, sipping on a beer as his back rests against the wall, that same unreadable look from before back on his face. You don’t linger to figure it out and rush to your bungalow, coming up with an excuse that you got lost on your way back for your parents to believe. Because their Baby would never do anything she isn’t supposed to, right?

That night, as you toss and turn in bed, trying to fall asleep, your mind wanders off to those warm, big hands firmly planted on your waist, and how they had guided your body until it moved on its own accord, until it let itself go and only followed the rhythm. How far can you go until your body no longer belongs to you but rather to the music, or to the person holding you close, you wonder? And if that happened, would you, for a moment at least, no matter how fleeting, be freed of all your worries for your future and of all the pressure on your shoulders?

Your feet already ache - from dancing or from wanting to dance some more, you can’t quite tell.

-

Every year when August comes, it takes you by surprise how early the sun sets. Just as you’d gotten used to the sky still being fairly light by 10 p.m., it was already getting dark at nine. This is what you think about a few nights later as you look out at the dark sky, the bright full moon and the hundreds of stars lighting it up. You’re standing next to the gazebo with your parents as you watch other guests dancing about; clearly, since you’re thinking about the state of the sky and the sun in the summer, you’re very entertained. Your sister has managed to become friends with some of the other guests’ kids, as well as some of the staff, and has even formed a budding romance with Heeseung, which your parents have made it obvious they approve of. This means that she is excused of any activities she might not want to partake in, while you have to follow your parents everywhere.

Your gaze follows Sunghoon as he dances with an older woman, guiding her through the dance and teaching her a few steps. You can’t help but frown slightly at his forced smile when she lets her hands wander a bit too far down his back, and you wonder why he doesn’t say anything when he looks so obviously uncomfortable.

“You see that woman over there?” you hear Max ask your father as he motions to the lady dancing with Sunghoon. “Vivian Kim. We call women like her bungalow bunnies. Their husbands work all week and only come back on weekends. That dancer Park Sunghoon is pretty popular with them, if you know what I mean,” he comments with a dark chuckle. “But I gotta pretend like I don’t know any better, otherwise the wives are unhappy. And if the wives are unhappy, so are the husbands, and then I lose money.”

You daze out of the conversation when you see Jay approaching, his steps quick and headed directly towards Sunghoon. “Where’s Chaewon?” he questions impatiently, taking no notice of Vivian, who seems to take no notice of him either and continues swaying her hips to the music.

“What do you mean where’s Chaewon? She’s on a break, Chaewon needs a break,” Sunghoon bites back, tone just as harsh as Jay’s. That seems to shut Jay up, and he just squints at him before turning his head to where you’re standing. His whole demeanor changes instantly as he walks towards you, that smile one would reserve for children that he always looks at you with.

“Hey Baby, wanna go on a walk?” he asks, but with the intent way your parents, Max and Jay himself are peering down at you, you know you don’t have much of a choice.

You put on your best forced smile and take his extended hand. “Sure, Jay.”

He takes you to a small wooden bridge that overpasses a small but feisty current. The walk there is fairly silent, which you’re thankful for, because it’s easier to pretend Jay isn’t here when he’s not talking, but the fantasy is shattered everytime he sighs and hums contentedly. It’s like he thinks spending five minutes without talking will make the world implode, and he has to make some kind of noise to keep the balance.

When you reach the bridge, you lean back against the rail, and he leans on his side, apparently so he can look at you better. “I love to watch your hair blow in the breeze,” he says after a few moments, and it takes everything in you to keep your laughter in at the sudden romanticism.

“You know, not to brag,” he starts, and you know he’s about to say the most pretentious thing you’ve ever heard, “but around here, I’m known as the catch of the county.” He’s smiling, but you know he’s being fully serious. “I mean, it makes sense, doesn’t it? I’m handsome, parents love me, and I go to the best school in the country. People ask me, ‘well, what’s the difference between you and any other guy at Yale,’ and I say, ‘five hotels and a million-dollar inheritance!’” He bursts laughing like he’s just made the funniest joke ever, although you’re not sure where the joke is. You chuckle awkwardly and nod, remembering your mother’s advice - when in doubt, just nod. You’re not particularly in doubt, but you’re also not sure how to respond to such ostentatious self-praise.

To your great despair, Jay is about to open his mouth again, but a voice coming from the exit of the forest near you stops him in his tracks. “Heeseung, please, you have to help me with this-,” the voice says, and you recognize it quickly as Chaewon’s.

“I told you, it’s none of my damn business.”

“But it is! Please!” she shouts back. He walks ahead of her and she tries to catch up to him, and just like that, they’re already gone without having noticed you or Jay.

A hand placed delicately on your shoulder snaps you from your thoughts. You turn to Jay who has a sad look in his eyes and who sighs as if pained to say what he has to say next. “You know, Baby, sometimes, in this world, you’ll see things you don’t want to see. And sometimes, you can’t do anything about them. It’s all part of growing up,” he finishes, his tone self-important like he’s just taught you a world of knowledge. 

“You hungry?” he suddenly adds, all cheery. “C’mon, eating something might take your mind off of this. We can go to the kitchens and get you anything you’d like.”

He indeed takes you to the restaurant kitchens, completely empty due to the late hour. He opens up a fridge, and even though he basically does, the way he acts like he owns the place makes you wince. “So, what have we here? Some smoked salmon canapés, some ham sandwiches… ooh, brownies! What else…” he trails off, but your attention has been caught by something else. 

You can hear someone snuffling somewhere in the room, and when you lean to the side to peer behind the wall, you can make out a female figure crouched down in the dark. She’s trembling from head-to-toe, and when she lifts her head to look at you, you recognize her as Chaewon. You’ve never seen anyone looking so scared.

Thinking quickly, you grab Jay by the shoulders, smiling at him as you say, “You know what, I don’t think I’m actually that hungry, let’s just head back to the gazebo, yeah?”

For once, you’re the one who doesn’t let him answer your question and you speed out of the kitchens and back to the gazebo. You find Jake immediately, rushing to him to tell him what you saw, and he in turn rushes to Sunghoon, who apologizes and drops his dancing partner’s hand as soon as he hears what’s going on. Ignoring Jay’s confused look, you run with them back to the kitchens, from which Chaewon hasn’t moved an inch.

Sunghoon sits next to her, taking her in his arms and helping her up. “It’s okay, you’re okay, I’m here now. Everything’s fine. Let’s get you back to my room, okay? It’ll be quiet there,” he coos, getting her snuffles to calm down and her breath to steady itself.

Since none of them tell you to go back, you follow along, Chaewon in Sunghoon’s arms in front and you and Jake not too far behind. “What’s wrong with her?” you ask Jake quietly.

“She’s pregnant.”

“Jake!” Sunghoon calls out indignantly, sending him a look as if to warn him.

“What? It’s not like she’d tell anyone.”

“Still, it’s none of her business,” Sunghoon replies, glancing briefly at you.

“And what’s he gonna do about it?” you can’t help but ask. This makes Sunghoon pivot on his heel and Chaewon frowns at the sudden movement.

“‘What’s he gonna do about it?’” he repeats, venom in his voice. “Oh of course, cause it’s my baby. Of course you’d assume that,” he practically spits at you. You try to stutter out a response, but nothing comes up. How could you not assume that, when you’ve only seen him taking care of her like she’s his responsibility?

You thought all staff lived in small bungalows, but the place you reach is more like a one-person studio. Sunghoon sits Chaewon down on a couch, covers her shoulders with a blanket and brings her a tall glass of water.

“So, whose is it then?” you ask again, eyes darting back and forth between the three figures that stare back at you. Sunghoon starts towards you, an accusing finger out, but Chaewon stops him.

“It’s fine, Sunghoon.” She sighs then lifts her gaze to look at you. Her eyes seem drained, like her tears took everything out of her. “It’s Heeseung’s,” she answers plainly, and you think your eyes bulge out of your face. What you’d witnessed earlier starts to make more sense in your head.

Next to you, Jake looks like he’ll explode if he has to keep in the words he wants to say any longer. “That bastard Heeseung. She needs money to get an operation, and she needs it soon, but he doesn’t give a shit,” Jake spits.

“But, Heeseung, he’s got money, I’m sure if you just ask him, he’ll-”

“Baby? Is that your name?” Chaewon asks softly, interrupting you. “Well, you don’t know shit about my problems, Baby,” she continues, her tone doing a 180. “You don’t think I’ve asked him? You don’t think he knows?”

“But-”

“Go back to your playpen, Baby,” she dismisses you, a finality to her tone. Sunghoon just glares at you while Jake shrugs, so you decide there’s nothing you can do than leave, and head back to your bungalow, heart heavy, but determined to help Chaewon out. There has to be something you can do, you just know it.

-

The next day, you pretend to help Heeseung set the tables for the lunch service to have a talk with him. You waste no time starting your interrogation, not even greeting him before diving straight into it.

“I know about Chaewon, Heeseung. You need to help her out,” you say sternly, using a random water pitcher you’d found at the entrance to fill up crystal glasses.

“Well hello to you too, Baby,” he says with a sarcastically sweet tone. His fake smile drops when he sees you won’t play into his game. “I don’t need to do anything,” he scoffs. “Not like it’s any of your business anyway.”

“Haven’t you seen her? You can’t leave her alone in a time like this, she needs your help. Even if it’s mostly financial help. It’s the least you can do.”

“Girls like her, they get into trouble all the time, okay? Hey, watch what you’re doing!” he whisper-yells when water spills over one of the glasses, not wanting to rouse the suspicion of any of the diners around.

“Yeah, because of guys like you,” you bite back, but he ignores you.

“She was bound to get knocked up at some point, going around like that.” You follow as he moves on the next table. 

“So you’re not going to do anything? Just put her in a bad situation and then run away?”

He finally turns to face you, looking at you like he’s exasperated, like you’re the bad guy here. “That girl’s not my problem, okay? She brought this upon herself.”

You take a step closer to him, a fakely sweet smile plastered on your lips. “You’re a jerk, Heeseung. You stay away from me, stay away from my sister, or I’ll have you fired.” You then raise the jug of water up to his chest, and keep that same smile as you pour it on him before marching away, ignoring the gasps that echo all around the room and Heeseung as he yells at you to come back.

-

Your mom is struggling to get the ball in when you find your parents on one of the many golf courses. Your dad smiles as he sees you nearing them, asking you if everything’s alright.

“Daddy.”

“Baby?” he answers, looking amused by your seriousness.

“You know how you say I should always do my best to help out others when they need it?”

“Of course.”

“Well, I’ve got friends who need some help.”

“What kind of help?” he asks, slightly frowning as he realizes you’re not being serious for no reason.

You take a big breath in. “Money.” You don’t like asking your dad for money, but it’s the only solution you’ve come up with.

“And just how much money?”

“Three hundred dollars?” you say, your sentence coming out like a question as you slightly wince in apprehension.

Your father sighs. “That’s a serious amount of money, Baby. This isn’t anything illegal, is it?” he adds after a beat, taking you aback. Is this illegal? If it is, your father doesn’t need to know it.

“No, no, of course not, Daddy,” you say, trying your best at a reassuring smile. It seems to work, because his expression softens and he smiles back.

“Of course not,” he repeats, “I should know that.” He takes you in his arms. “I’ll have the money ready for you tonight.” You hug him back, thanking him before skipping away to whatever activity you might find to distract yourself before the evening.

-

After dinner, when your dad’s given you an envelope filled with cash, you throw a quick excuse your parents’ way before rushing to the staff quarters, making sure no one sees you on your way there. The music emanating from the common room makes you hopeful you’ll find the people you’re looking for.

And indeed, you do - Sunghoon and Chaewon are holding each other close, her head resting on his chest, and swaying together to the slow and sensual rhythm of the music at the back of the room when you find them. You feel a ping of something uncomfortable in your heart but ignore it and head straight towards them. Chaewon turns around when you tap on her shoulder, her and Sunghoon both looking at you with unmasked animosity, but you just smile as you hand her the envelope. Jake notices you and walks over to stand next to his cousin.

“Here you go. I hope it’s enough,” you say, relieved to see her surprised but ecstatic expression when she opens the envelope and sees all the bills in there. Jake wears a similar expression but Sunghoon just leers down at you.

“Oh my God, Baby, this is amazing,” Chaewon exclaims in disbelief. “How did you get Heeseung to change his mind?”

You purse your lips. “It wasn’t Heeseung…”

She frowns slightly but her eyes widen at the realization that if it isn’t from Heeseung, it has to be from you. “Oh, Baby, thank you so much,” she murmurs.

“Yeah, takes a real saint to ask daddy,” Sunghoon says sarcastically. Chaewon’s head snaps towards you and she starts to shake her head, forcing the envelope back into your hands.

“I can’t accept it, then.”

“Why not?” you, Sunghoon and Jake blurt at the same time.

“Who cares where it comes from? You need the money,” Sunghoon says, trying to persuade her, but she just continues to shake her head.

“It doesn’t feel right. And I can’t go to the appointment anyway,” she chuckles defeatedly, and Sunghoon looks at Jake in confusion.

“I can only get her an appointment next Thursday, when you guys have your act at the Sheldrake,” he explains guiltily, as if it’s his fault.

“For fuck’s sake,” Sunghoon breathes out, looking up to the ceiling in despair, hands on his hips.

“Can’t you miss just that one night?” you ask innocently, but apparently it is the stupidest question on earth, judging from the harsh glare Sunghoon fixes you with.

“No, we can’t miss just that one night. This is our job, and if we cancel the Sheldrake, not only do we lose this summer’s salary, but also next summer’s gig. Our livelihoods depend on this,” he hisses.

“So… can’t someone fill in?” you ask again, and wince when he raises his tone.

“No, Little Miss Fix-It, someone can’t fill in. Everybody works here, unlike you. Unless you wanna do it,” he adds after a pause, chuckling sarcastically, “take some time off of Simon Says?”

You can only glare back at him, even though you couldn’t look as condescending as him if you tried. You’re just trying to help them out and find solutions, no need to be so rude about it. Jake looks back and forth between the two of you, a look on his face like he’s thinking things over.

“You know, maybe she could do it. You weren’t so bad last time, were you, Baby?” he says, eyebrows raised at you as he waits for your answer, a hopeful look on his face that makes you feel bad for letting him down.

You shake your head fervently - learning a complicated choreography and performing it in front of an audience is unthinkable to you. “No, no, I can’t even do the merengue.”

“C’mon!” he insists.

“You heard her, Jake, she can’t even do the merengue,” he repeats, adding venom to the words.

Chaewon doesn’t seem to think this is such a bad idea either. “But Sunghoon, you could teach anyone to dance, you’re an amazing leader,” she says eagerly, but Sunghoon just rolls his eyes and sighs.

“The act is in a week, even if I was the best teacher in the world, she couldn’t learn the whole routine in that time. It’s a lost cause,” he sneers, his gaze fixated harshly on you. You’re not sure whether the lost cause refers to the situation or to you.

You squint your eyes at him, trying to match his gaze. It’s one thing that you think it’s a bad idea, but it’s a whole other thing now that he’s so against it. Jake’s right - you weren’t that bad last week, you’re sure you could be an okay replacement. Sunghoon raises an eyebrow at you as if in challenge.

Challenge accepted, you think.

-

“Now it’s one, two, three, four,” Sunghoon says, synchronizing each number to the beat of the music. “You don’t dance ‘til the two.” This is probably the fifth time he tells you this in the past half-hour, and although you know what you’re meant to do, your body will simply not listen to your head.

You’re in the dance studio, trying as hard as you can to get your body to shape itself into what Sunghoon wants it to be. Arms up at shoulder-level, core engaged, back straight, head proud. He may repeat those directions over and over again, you aren’t used to holding yourself like that, and it’s a lot harder than it seems, even though he makes it look so natural.

He moves the tonearm of the record player so that the music starts from the beginning again and walks towards you, his stern gaze never leaving your eyes as if to say, “you better not mess it up this time.” It makes the room feel a lot hotter than it actually is, and the strong summer heat coming in from the open windows doesn’t help.

You can’t help but wonder if Sunghoon is this impatient with all of his students - surely he’d be out of a job if he actually behaved like this with the fancy ladies of the resort, so he must have some kind of problem with you. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out that he isn’t the fondest of you, anyway. The fact that you’re only doing this to help him out and not for your own pleasure seems lost on him, but you’d rather not aggravate the situation by pointing that out.

His hands firmly holding yours, his gaze still fixed on your face, you hear your cue approaching and tell yourself “on the two, on the two, on the two,” but it’s no use, your foot starts to move a beat too early. But this time, Sunghoon anticipates your movement and says, softer than you expect ‘no,’ and you put your foot back down instead of stepping on his like countless times before. Then he instructs ‘now’, and you finally get it right, getting into the flow of the music properly. You repeat this process a few more times, and only take a break when he’s sure you won’t make mistakes anymore.

You’re halfway through a one-liter bottle of water when you hear him say, “Finally got the basic footwork down, only took an hour.” You scoff at the snarky remark and are about to come back at him with something just as petty, but you notice the shadow of a smile on his lips, more playful than patronizing, so you bite it back and try to suppress a smile of your own. With Sunghoon, you’ll take what you can get.

He doesn’t give you more than another minute of break, ignoring your complaints and urging you back towards him in the center of the room. “Let’s move on to the second part.”

You only have a week to get ready, so you practice like crazy, Sunghoon trying to reduce his working hours as much as possible and you slipping away from your parents and sister whenever you can. You go over the steps on your own, taking any opportunity to do so, whether that’s when you find yourself alone in your family’s rental or as you walk back across the bridge and lawn to the main grounds, letting your body move to the music in your head.

When she can make it, Chaewon also comes to practice with you. Her presence is always helpful - she sometimes stands behind you, holding you by the hips and correcting your posture, sometimes replaces either you or Sunghoon so you can watch her and mirror her moves from different perspectives. 

Although she was originally wary and dismissive of you, when she saw how intent you were on helping her, a complete stranger, out, her view of you completely changed. You can tell how thankful she is by the constant kindness she shows you, encouraging you to compensate for Sunghoon’s lack of praise.

Indeed, all three of you are surprised and happy to see how quickly you’re progressing, but Sunghoon has a knack for keeping his emotions behind a veil and his praises to a minimum. Sure, that means his compliments, his small ‘you did well today’ or ‘good job’ make you blush a little redder, but you wouldn’t complain if they were more frequent, either.

What he can’t hide from you, however, is that he is clearly starting to become more tolerant of your presence. You’d like to say you knew all along that he would soften up eventually, but truth is, you were scared he was going to stay this cold for the length of your time together, so it comes as even more of a relief when he stops reprimanding you so harshly for small mistakes or when he smiles along with you as you celebrate getting through a big chunk of the routine flawlessly for the first time. When one day, he actually laughs with you instead of berating you, you almost explode in on yourself out of joy. You convince yourself that those butterflies you feel erupting in your stomach is because it’s so surprising to see someone usually so guarded letting himself go a bit more, that it isn’t just the simple sound of his laughter making you feel lightheaded.

On the fourth day of practice, you manage to find enough time to practice for almost three hours in a row. Towards the end of the session, after feeling like you were about to pass out due to extortion, you have a strange surge of energy. Sunghoon, on the other hand, has almost exhausted his very impressive stamina, but still wants to go through what you’ve learned up until now.

The music starts, and you don’t know if it was this surge of energy, or if it was Sunghoon’s tired expression that made you want to tease him, but you decide it’d be funny to repeat back to him the directions he always gives you - you know them by heart at this point. 

“Hey! Head up,” you joke as you face each other again after a spin. “Lock your frame. Wiggly arms!” You’re happy to see he laughs along with you, shaking his head in amused disbelief at you.

The laughter immediately halts, however, when at the end of the routine, because of your lack of concentration, your foot slips and you find yourself much closer to him than necessary for the ending pose. Your breath hitches in your throat, and your cheeks immediately burn up. After a long moment, Sunghoon looks away, clearing his throat, and you take a big step back from him as if being any nearer might make you spontaneously combust.

“That was, um, that was good today. Good job,” he says quickly, then rushes to grab his stuff and leave the room. Forget the proximity the two of you were just in - was that a flustered Sunghoon you got to see? And was it because of you? It’s almost unfathomable that you could render him shy like that, but a small smirk plays on your lips at the idea of it.

Over the week, you start reaching for the thin tank tops and shorts you own, and steal some of Seeun’s lipgloss and mascara. If Sunghoon notices it, he doesn’t say anything. But perhaps, you’re the one who hasn’t noticed the way he glances at you in the mirror when you take a break or practice on your own, how he can’t help raking his eyes over your body when you aren’t looking, unable to reign his curiosity in. That you might want to get some kind of a reaction out of him doesn’t even cross his mind - because no matter how attractive he may be, he can’t imagine that a serious, educated girl like you with big plans for the future might be interested in a guy like him.

So even if his iciness thaws a bit, he doesn’t let it show that having you around messes with his head, and stays a stern instructor who wants you to get the routine down to a T. “We can’t afford to make any mistakes,” he always says. But there’s something about the way he delivers his instructions sometimes that makes it impossible for you to concentrate on the dance. He’s always either dancing with you, your bodies just a foot apart, or sitting on the floor close to you and watching you, so he doesn’t need to speak so loud for you to hear him. It’s this quietness mixed with the strictness of his tone that makes your insides completely melt. Soft yet rigid, intimate yet steely. 

“Don’t put your heel down, stay on your toes.” 

“Keep your eyes focused on me, especially when you’re spinning.” 

“Always keep your core and your head straight.” 

Words that have no double-meaning whatsoever, yet it doesn’t take long for you to start wondering if he keeps this tone everywhere. Whenever those thoughts cross your mind, you’re practically unable to look him in the eye and speak without stammering. He makes you dizzier than the spins you practice.

It’s on the fifth day that you realize how deep your infatuation with Sunghoon truly is. The routine isn’t exceptionally long, so after five days of practicing, you have all the steps down, except for the lifts which he keeps putting off for later. He watches you do it on your own, and although he admits you know it in and out, he said there’s still something missing. The pang of disappointment you feel at his words soon turns into anticipation as he comes to stand in front of you, closer than usual, and brings your hand to his chest, keeping both of his own over yours.

“Feel this?” he says, voice almost a whisper. By now, you’ve gotten used to the intensity with which he always stares at you, but this time seems different; there’s something more vulnerable, more intimate about his gaze, something you don’t quite understand. You just stare right back at him, unable to look away.

You aren’t sure what he means so you lightly shake your head no. “Here,” he insists, pressing your hand more firmly to his chest, and it clicks. He wants you to feel his heartbeat. Your eyebrows jump slightly, and his lips form a small smile at your realization. “Close your eyes.” he says softly, and you do as told. 

“The steps aren’t enough, Baby. You have to feel the music. It’s within you, it’s within me, it’s within all of us. You just gotta find it.” This was something you’d heard a lot of times before, said by singers on the radio, by some of your friends in the high school choir - that they felt the music. But you’d never quite understood what they meant until now, until Sunghoon showed you. With two fingers, he starts tapping against the back of your hand to the rhythmic beat of his heart. 

“Du-dum, du-dum. Feel it now?” he asks, and you nod, too transfixed to produce actual words. His smile widens, and your heart swells because of his expression, more affectionate than you’ve ever seen it. 

“Now dance.”

Your body moves as if of its own accord, the moves now ingrained in your muscles and coming as a reflex to you. Together, you go through the whole routine with no music. You hadn’t needed to check yourself in the mirror to know you did perfectly - the smile on Sunghoon’s face tells you enough.

When the evening rolls around, there’s a lightness to your demeanor that both confuses and delights your parents, but even if they asked you to explain what happened, you don’t think you’d be able to find the words to do so.

-

Sure, Sunghoon doesn’t look at you like he hates you with every fiber of his being anymore, and he even dares crack a smile or laugh once in a while, but it’s not like you’re the best of friends either. There are still moments when he gets frustrated with you - one of those being the time you practice the opening of the routine. He hadn’t yet taught you that part, but as soon as he showed it to you, you understood why.

You stand back to him, heads turned towards each other. Your heights match perfectly so that, when standing so close together, his lips are right in your eyeline. His beautiful, plump, kissable lips that you find yourself thinking about too many times.

Your left arm stays by your side but your right arm is raised so that he can trail his fingertips all the way from your hand down to your waist - a sensual move that, despite setting the tone for the routine, you are not at all ready to perform. Not because it requires any kind of complex technique or years of practice, far from that, but because you don’t yet have the professionalism that Sunghoon, Chaewon and other performers like them have. Nevermind his fingers brushing past your armpit, which is obviously a ticklish place, you can’t handle the seriousness that comes with such intimacy, nor can you resist the urge to laugh every time. This, of course, does not please Sunghoon.

The first couple times it happens, he just rolls his eyes and sighs, thinking you just need to get your head in the dance and then you’d be fine. So he gets back into position, again, again, and again, and even though your full-blown laughters turn into quieter snorts or chuckles, you still can’t find it in you to keep a straight face. 

After the sixth time, his patience runs out. You can tell he wants to blow up at you by the redness of his face and the iciness of his stare, but when he speaks, he doesn’t raise his voice - his tone is so harsh that there’s no need for it. 

“You pull yourself together, or we’re done here.”

Whether he means you’re done for the day, or completely done with the practice, meaning all your efforts this week go to waste and you don’t perform on Saturday, you aren’t sure, but you don’t think this is the right time to question him. You get back into position, and finally, on the seventh try, you don’t laugh. After so many times, his touch doesn’t tickle so much - rather, it burns. Now, instead of resisting laughter, you have to keep yourself from completely melting under his touch.

But then, you realize that this is what you’ve been daydreaming about this whole time - to have him close, to have him touch you. Even though this was still part of the routine, the point of this move was to show the chemistry between the two dancers, the attraction they needed to, or at least pretend to, have for each other to take the performance from good to mesmerizing. Good thing you didn’t need to pretend.

Of course, Sunghoon has touched your waist and shoulders thousands of times by now, but after so many days together, you start to crave a different kind of touch, and in different places. You never let yourself relish too much in the warmth of his palms for fear of getting too used to it, and, worse than anything, missing it when he’s gone - as if that wasn’t already the case. But with this opening move, you can finally let yourself melt under his touch and play it off as being really into the dance. If anything, he’d probably be glad you’re letting your reserves go.

And so you do. Eyes closed, head tilted towards him and slightly back, revealing more of your neck, you feel his fingertips brush along your side until they reach your hand, and you start dancing. For the two minutes of the routine, you aren’t even thinking of the steps anymore, only looking into his eyes and letting your muscle memory do the work for you.

At the end, you stay in the final pose for a few seconds longer than usual, looking into each other’s eyes. Sunghoon isn’t the most expressive person ever, so you’d quickly learned how to decipher the slightest changes in his face. In this moment, he looks at you like he sees you for the first time, really sees you, with something like pride in his eyes. You smile at each other, and his next words make your heart skip a beat in surprise at first, then swell in satisfaction.

“I think that was the best you’ve danced so far. If you do it like this on Saturday night, it’ll be perfect.”

-

However, there’s one last thing you needed to learn: lifts. Sunghoon has been putting them off almost the whole week, saying you’d get to them later, that you needed to get the other steps down before. There are two in the routine, and whenever one comes up, Sunghoon says “that’s for later,” and keeps going with the dance. Except later never comes, and soon enough, you only have a day left to learn and perfect those lifts. The stress of not mastering them on time starts to get to your head, and your stress must be contagious, because Sunghoon explodes for the first (and only) time on Friday afternoon when you make a mistake in the basic steps.

“Are you kidding me?” he suddenly yells, taking a wide step back away from you and looking at you with uncharacteristic anger. Sure, he wasn’t always the most pleasant with you, and you were no stranger to Sunghoon’s expressions of or dislike, but you hadn’t seen anger on him until now. No matter how beautiful he is, you have to admit this isn’t his best look.

“What?” you respond, voice at the same level as his, not understanding his sudden burst of impatience.

“What?! This is a basic step you shouldn’t even be thinking about anymore, let alone not get right. The performance is tomorrow, you can’t be making stupid mistakes now!” He sighs in frustration and tears his gaze away from you for a moment, then looks back, his eyes hard. “Is this your idea of fun?”

You scoff and cross your arms over your chest. “My idea of fun? You really think I’m doing this for fun?” He doesn’t say anything, just keeps on staring at you. “I’ve been breaking my back and sneaking around for almost a whole week just to save your ass, I don’t get anything out of it, and you have the nerve to ask me if I’m doing this for fun?” You can see he wants to say something, but you don’t let him. “Oh, and I’m glad you seem to remember the performance is tomorrow, because I’ll have you know you still haven’t taught me those damn lifts! How can you get mad at me for a small mistake when you won’t even teach me the whole routine?!”

You’re out of breath after screaming so loud and so quickly, but still Sunghoon doesn’t move for a few seconds, until suddenly, he pivots and walks towards the door. At the threshold, he turns to you and tells you to follow him, as if that should have been obvious. He doesn’t give you any time for questions so you run after him. Outside, a heavy summer rain is coming down, and your clothes are soaked through after just ten seconds. You walk a few steps behind him as he heads to his car, muttering a curse under his breath when he realizes he’s forgotten his keys inside the locked vehicle. You let out a small shriek when he breaks one of the backseat windows to open the door from inside, reaching for his keys still resting in the ignition. You just stand there, watching him in confusion, until he calls to you from the driver’s seat. “C’mon! There’s a place I need to show you.”

You know it’s a bad idea - you’ve already been gone for over an hour, and if you leave with him for God knows how much longer, your parents would start to wonder where you are. But there’s something about his face, his anger that had completely disappeared and let way for what seemed like excitement, the rain pouring down and the loud sound of his car’s motor; it all creates a rush of adrenaline in you, and you want to know what he has in store. So you get in the car, and as soon as you’re buckled in, Sunghoon backs out of the parking lot and starts driving, the destination completely unknown to you, but you trust him enough to not be bothered by that.

The two of you drive for around ten minutes in comfortable silence, sometimes catching the other’s eye in the rearview mirror and bursting into giggles. You don’t know why, but when you open your window and let your arm out, letting out a big whoop, he laughs like it’s the most amazing thing he’s ever seen.

In the week you spend together with Sunghoon, these are the moments you love the most. When he’s seemingly let go of his barriers and lets you see a side of him that you don’t think many people get access to, a side to which laughter comes easy. Although it gives you whiplash when he so suddenly goes back to his serious and stonelike nature, you’d rather get glimpses of his carefree self than forever be stuck with the face he usually puts on with you. You aren’t sure if he is always one or the other with other people, or if he keeps his tendency to almost switch personalities with everyone, but you’re just glad it doesn’t feel like he’d always prefer to be somewhere else than with you anymore - and that it almost feels like he enjoys, or at the very least tolerates spending time in your company now.

He parks in what seems to be the middle of nowhere, on a small patch of gravel between the road and a forest, right before a bridge that crosses over a current. He gets out and starts towards what looks like a forest, telling you good-humoredly to hurry up and follow him. The rain has calmed down to a drizzle, gentle as it falls on your shoulders and a refreshing break from the sweltering heat of the past few days. Faster than you expected, you’ve reached your destination, which is a point where the current is calm and a wide trunk tree crosses it. You have no idea how Sunghoon ever found this place, but you’ve never seen him wear such an ecstatic expression, so you don’t even question it.

He takes his shoes off and gets on the tree trunk, spreading his arms wide to keep himself from falling. You sit down, one leg on each side of the trunk, and watch amusedly as he titters and regains his balance, sending sheepish smiles your way when he gets close to plummeting into the water. 

“Where’d you learn to dance?” you ask suddenly, the question forming in your head and leaving your lips simultaneously.

He considers you for a second, then plops himself down on the trunk, letting his legs sway over the emptiness. He looks out to the current when he speaks, as if talking to the air around him rather than directly to you. “I lived and went to school in a low-income neighborhood, so there were always these people coming and going, trying to get kids like us to start working and get out of the neighborhood, or make it better or something. One day these people came in, saying they were giving out lessons to become a dance instructor, and it was the only one that ever caught my interest. I did it, aced the test, and they gave me a spot here that I managed to keep every summer. Haven’t wanted to do anything else since.” He looks back at you and you catch a glimpse of cautiousness, perhaps a fear of finding judgment in your eyes, but his expression turns friendly again when he finds only curiosity and sympathy there.

“What about the rest of the year? Do you also have a teaching job back home?” you ask, daring to go further in your interrogation of Sunghoon’s personal life. Just a few days ago, you’d never have dreamed of asking him something like this, but there’s something about him today that makes you think it’s okay to get closer, if you tread lightly.

He snickers humorlessly and looks down at his hands, palms resting on the trunk in front of him. “I’m lucky I get to escape that place just three months a year when I’m working here. Otherwise, I’m stuck with the old man and his carpenting business I’m fated to inherit when he retires.” Before you can say anything in response, he jumps back up on his feet and holds a hand out to you, making a motion for you to come to him. You’re slightly taken aback at the sudden switch in his demeanor, but you know better than to force anything with Sunghoon. “We didn’t come here to chit-chat, did we? Come over here.”

Devilish - there’s no other word to describe his expression at that moment.

“Nuh-uh, I’m not getting on there, I’m gonna fall and break an ankle,” you immediately protest, but he doesn’t need to say anything, just approaches you with a mischievous smile and reaches his hands out to you - and you take them, letting him bring you to your feet.

You climb up tentatively, glad to see the trunk isn’t slippery even after the rain, and hold on tight to Sunghoon’s hands until you’ve managed to find your own balance. “Okay, what now?” you say breathily, half-paralyzed in terror and half-pumped with adrenaline.

“Let’s dance,” he says, a playful smile teasing his lips.

“What, here?” you reply, looking at him like he suggested you rob a bank.

“Yes, here.” He grabs your hand tighter and brings you closer to him, securing an arm around your waist before you can stumble off of the trunk. It’s definitely your near-death experience and not his proximity that makes your heart beat faster, definitely.

He quietly hums the song, but you’ve heard it so many times at this point that you could do the dance with no music at all. More than dancing the same steps, there’s something electrifying about knowing that the same song is playing in your and Sunghoon’s heads right now. You wonder if he feels it playing in his heart too.

What you’re doing isn’t quite dancing - you’re just taking small, careful, clumsy steps together, giggling as you try to stay atop the trunk and letting out a yelp when he attempts to spin you but it only results in you two almost falling off. He holds you close as if making sure that if one of you goes down, the other goes down with them. Your face is right in front of his chest, and when you risk a look up at him, he’s already gazing down at you, his playfulness making the light in his eyes shine even brighter. 

Your breath hitches in your throat when his eyes drift down to your lips, moving as you talk, but you still manage to get the words out, whispering them in the small space between the two of you. “You’re supposed to teach me lifts, aren’t you?” 

“Yeah. Let’s go,” he whispers back, but makes no move to leave the trunk or distance himself from you.

“Okay,” you breathe. You repeat the word and take a step back, somehow gathering the will to tear yourself away from him, from his eyes fixated on your parted lips. “Let’s go.”

He leads you back through the woods to a wide clearing. After the downpour of the early afternoon, the sun is starting to shine again, rays of light making their way through the grayish clouds and high pines, and bathing your surroundings in a comforting glow. Sunghoon stands facing the sun, and the sunlight hits his face so perfectly, you have to keep yourself from snorting at how ridiculously handsome he is.

The only instructions he gives you are as follows: “You’ve seen lifts before. You know you just run to me to gather momentum, then when you’re close enough, bend your knees and keep your core and whole body tight as I lift you. But the most important thing is that you trust me, alright? If you don’t, we could both get hurt.”

The first few times, you just practice the running and the picking up, not wanting to venture into the actual overhead lift right away. It’s easy enough - just find the right distance, the right speed, and remember not to let your body go limp in Sunghoon’s hands.

But when you’ve gotten the hang of it, and Sunghoon tells you to try the complete lift, you freeze. You just stop right in front of him, looking at him with wide eyes. “This is too scary, I can’t do it.”

To your surprise, instead of letting out an annoyed sigh or rolling his eyes, Sunghoon smiles. His eyes go soft and the corners of his lips tug up.

“What’s scary?”

“Falling. Getting hurt, hurting you,” you say, looking into his eyes with the hope that he’ll make all your anxieties go away.

“Don’t think about those things. Don’t think about anything, just trust me. Let yourself be picked up first, and then we’ll worry about your form and how to keep it, okay?”

“O-okay.” You walk a few steps back to regain some distance, and he nods reassuringly as you take a deep breath in, and a deep breath out. You run to him, and as if his words had gone straight from his mouth to your limbs, you let him lift you - and the world looks so different from this high up.

You marvel at the feeling of floating in the air, but you quickly start to feel yourself slipping forward, and Sunghoon is yelling “Hold it, hold it!” and before you know it, you’ve dipped forward and fallen right on top of him. Thankfully, it was a slow fall, and he had time to soften the blow, so that the immediate reaction from the both of you is to burst into laughter.

You roll over so that you’re laying on your back next to him and rest your palms on your stomach, feeling it shake with laughter. Once you’ve calmed down, you turn your head towards him and he imitates you a second later. You probably look like idiots, out-of-breath and smiling widely at each other in this field, but there isn’t a thing you would change about this moment.

“Do you know what the best place to practice lifts is?” he asks, and you watch how his dimples disappear and reappear as he talks. You shake your head. His dimples deepen. “The water.”

You change locations again, heading back towards the current and finding the lake it stems from. You and Sunghoon turn your backs to each other as he takes his t-shirt off and you, your denim shorts, not wanting them to weigh you down in the water. When you turn back around, you have to force yourself to detach your eyes from his perfectly defined abs and shoulders thanks to years of dancing and physical exertion almost every day. You stare out at the lake like it’s the first time you’ve ever seen so much water, otherwise you’d be gawking at him like it’s the first time you’ve ever seen a man. Your cheeks burn up when you feel his eyes on your legs, taking your half-naked figure in, and he chuckles as you rush to hide yourself in the water.

Once in the water, you practice the actual lift, which consists of Sunghoon hoisting you high above his head and you keeping a straight posture, with your arms perpendicular to your body and your chest slightly lifted as if you were truly soaring through the air. It already looks difficult, and yet it’s even harder than it looks. It does help being in the water because at least you’re not scared for your life when you lose your balance and dive forward, but you let out a yelp nonetheless each time it happens. Sunghoon keeps on telling you to hold your posture, but each attempt ends in you falling into the water and bringing him down with you.

You drift apart and swim back towards each other every time, your arms wrapping around his neck and his hands coming to your hips to get back into position for the lift. You’re having a lot of fun, too much fun, probably, when the performance is just a day away - but getting to see Sunghoon’s smile and hear his laugh as you play around and try your best at the lift makes it worth it. When the strap of your tank top slips over your shoulder, you notice out of the corner of your eye Sunghoon’s hand reaching for it just as you put it back yourself. He plays it off by raking a hand through his wet hair, getting it out of his eyes, and smiles shyly at you when your gazes lock. You have no idea what’s going to happen after the performance, if you’ll stay friends or if he’ll pretend like this never even happened - all you know is that you’d be happy doing this all summer.

“One last time?”

-

And just like that, it’s late Saturday afternoon and the performance is just an hour away. You barely eat or speak during dinner, partly out of nervousness, but mostly because you want your lie of having a headache and needing to rest in your room more believable. Chaewon had said she’d help you put your dress on and get ready before the show, so when you’ve escaped the dinner table, you rush to her cabin.

But just as you exit the building, an old woman you recognize as Mrs Jung walks in. She must be surprised at your sudden appearance because she slightly bumps into the door and drops her bag. An unusual amount of wallets fall from it, but you don’t think too much of it - you’ve seen rich people do weirder things. 

You bend down to help her gather her things, and she chuckles lightly, thanking you. “Such a sweet girl, isn’t she, Harold?” she says to her husband who had appeared behind the door as well. You wish them a nice evening and part ways, gushing to yourself over how cute old couples are as you head to the Chaewon’s cabin.

She does your hair, pulling it into a tight bun and securing every stray strand with a bobby pin. You have no experience with makeup since it’s always been off-limits in your house, so she expertly applies eyeshadow, mascara and lipstick to your face. The sticky feel of it is unfamiliar but once you look in the mirror, you almost can’t look away. It’s still you, of course it is, but the bright colors make you look glamorous, like performing in front of a large crowd is just routine for you. You thank Chaewon, a huge smile on her face, and watch her own light up in relief that you like the makeup.

As she zips your dress up, a flowy baby pink dress she got out of her closet just for you, you repeat back all the instructions Sunghoon has given you over the week to make sure you remember everything. “I just gotta keep my head up, keep my core and my arms straight, follow the mu-”

“Thank you, Baby,” Chaewon quietly interrupts, and the slight tremble in her voice and the vulnerability with which she looks at you lets you know she really means it. You stop your declamation immediately and smile at her, kindness in your eyes.

She looks down and tries to find her words. “You know, I- I just want you to know that I, I don’t sleep around, and Heeseung, I really thought he loved me, and-”

You can see the tears already forming in her eyes so you bring her into a tight hug, resting your cheek against the side of her head. “I know, Chaewon, don’t worry. And even if you did sleep around, it wouldn’t matter, Heeseung should take responsibility no matter what. We’re all here to help you. Don’t worry.” You lean back to hold her face in your hands and try to give as reassuring a smile as you can.

“I’m scared, Baby,” she whispers, trying to calm her sobs to get the words out.

“Everything’s gonna be fine, Chaewon,” you say, and you hope she believes it as much as you do. “Everything’s gonna be just fine. You’ve got Sunghoon, and Jake, and you’ve got me too.” 

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath in. When she opens them again, she grabs your hands and shakes them between the two of you, mirroring your smile. “Okay, okay,” she murmurs. “Sorry, this isn’t the best time for me to break down. You feeling ready?” she asks, and even if it’s just for now, you’re glad she’s feeling better and got to let her emotions out.

“Not at all, I’m so nervous. I don’t want to mess something up and let you or Sunghoon down,” you admit, your smile wavering for a second.

“Whatever happens, you won’t let us down,” she says, squeezing your hands. “It’s amazing, what you’re doing.” 

You can’t help but look away at her words. “It’s the least I can do,” you mumble.

“No, Baby, you’re doing more than most people would. And Sunghoon, he might have his own way of showing it, but he’s extremely grateful for you,” she says, and it puts a smile on your face.

“By his own way of showing it, do you mean not showing it at all?” you joke.

“That’s Sunghoon for you.” You giggle quietly together, but her eyes drift to the clock on the wall behind you and she lets out a sigh. “It’s time, Baby. And don’t worry, I know you’ll do amazing,” she says, bringing you into a brief hug.

You’re so nervous, everything that follows is a blur - leaving Chaewon’s cabin and sneaking over to Sunghoon’s car, the drive to the Sheldrake Hotel, the staff there leading you backstage, and finding your spot on the stage. You only snap out of it when the curtains lift and a voice booms from the speakers in the room, announcing “Sunghoon Park and partner dancing the mambo” as the audience breaks into polite claps.

The music starts, and Sunghoon can immediately feel the tension in your body. He trails his fingers all the way down your arm to your waist, just like you’d practiced a ton of times before, and he uses the proximity between the two of you to whisper “Relax” into your ear. “Just follow my lead, you’ve got this,” he says, loud enough for only you to hear, and extends his arm to send you spinning. 

You manage the first few steps, trying to let go of your anxiety, but it’s got a tight grip on your body and makes your stomach twist. You think it’s all over when you mess up a turn, going right instead of left, but Sunghoon’s quick to whisper “over here” and you find your way again. “Look at me,” Sunghoon says once you’re facing each other again, and you lock eyes with him. And for some reason, that works - focusing only on him makes you feel like it’s just the two of you in the room, just like so many times this past week, and it dissipates all your nerves, makes your muscle memory kick in. You finally let him lead you and follow the music, thinking of nothing but Sunghoon and dancing together.

And yet, when it’s time for the lift, you freeze again. You find your position and run to Sunghoon, just like you know you’re supposed to, but you can’t let him lift you, your limbs turning into lead in his hold. Thinking quickly, you come up with another step on the spot, hoping it isn’t too obvious to the audience you just messed up. Sunghoon takes the lead again, and the rest of the performance goes smoothly, the other moves and the smaller, easier lift realized perfectly by the both of you.

You finish off the number, and the sound of the applause directed at the two of you fills you with a pride you’d never felt before, a feeling much more satisfying than any good grade or won argument ever had. Another sort of daze fills your mind now, and it makes you feel like there’s a small cloud under your feet so that you’re floating instead of walking everywhere. It almost makes you miss the Jungs, but when you see the old couple slowly walking out of the room, you’re scared you might be done for.

You rush back to the parking lot with Sunghoon, whooping in excitement as soon as you're out of anyone’s earshot. In the backseat, you change out of your dress and back into your regular clothes.

“God, that was- that was amazing, I can’t believe you get to live this every week during the summer, it was just- my God…” you say, struggling to get your right hand through the sleeve of your blouse.

“Yeah? Did you have fun?” Sunghoon answers, a smile on his face that turns into a gulp when he sees your half-naked body in the rearview mirror. He can’t help but risk a few more glances, hoping you don’t notice.

“I did, I really did, but I- I messed up that one turn, and I didn’t do the lift-”

“That doesn’t matter,” Sunghoon says firmly. “You did real good, Baby.” And after a beat, he adds: “Thank you. You did real good.” Your eyes lock in the mirror but you look away before he can catch sight of your reddening cheeks.

“And oh my God, there was that couple, the, the-”

“The Jungs, right? Yeah, I saw them too,” Sunghoon chuckles. “I got so scared.”

“Right? Me too! They won’t say anything, will they, do you think?”

“Probably not. I don’t think they even recognized either of us.”

You button your jeans and climb your way over to the passenger seat next to Sunghoon, grateful for the lack of headrests in his car. It suddenly grows quiet between the two of you. You want to ask whether you’ll keep meeting now that you’ve done your part, but you’re afraid Sunghoon might want to have nothing to do with you from now on even if it doesn’t seem like he dislikes you anymore. So you stay silent, watching out of the window, sometimes turning your head towards Sunghoon and catching his eye, then smiling at each other shyly.

Something in you is screaming at you to reach out to him, brush a hand over his hair, interlace your fingers with his - any kind of touch. You thought the ball of nerves in your stomach would disappear after the show, but it’s still there, and it’s taken hold of your entire body now, the anticipation of whatever is to come almost unbearable. You notice Sunghoon’s gaze ping-ponging between you and the road, and the tightness with which he holds the steering wheel, and you dare let yourself hope, just a little bit, that he shares those same wild thoughts jumping around your mind.

When you reach the parking lot next to the staff quarters, Sunghoon is quick to get out of the car, while you rub at your eyes and lips, trying to get as much makeup off as you can. Your parents would most likely be in bed by now, but just in case they were still up, you didn’t want them to catch you with bright red lips and blue eyelids. Sunghoon walks around to your side and opens your door for you, even grabbing your hand to help you out of the car. Once you’re out, he takes your other hand in his, facing you as he walks slowly backwards, and with the way he’s gazing down at you, you think those unspoken thoughts might finally come into the light. But before either of you can say anything, you hear quick footsteps rushing towards you, and a familiar voice calling out to Sunghoon.

He swings around to find a panting, alarmed-looking Jake. “Sunghoon, it’s- it’s Chaewon, something went wrong, she’s not feeling well-”

Neither of you need to hear more before you’re running to the cabin, reaching it in record time. There’s way more people than there should be in and outside Chaewon’s room, all watching and doing absolutely nothing except for another girl you recognise as part of the dancing crew holding a wet cloth to her head as Chaewon, her face covered in sweat and her eyes shut tight in pain, moans and mumbles incoherently, slightly delirious from fever. The girl at her bed steps aside when she sees Sunghoon approaching, and he kneels next to Chaewon, holding her hand in both of his and reassuring her as best she can.

“It’s that doctor,” Jake starts, “he was so shady, had a folding table and a dirty knife, and I- I heard screams coming from that room, Hoon, awful screams, and I tried getting in and getting Chaewon out but they wouldn’t let me-”

What’s obvious to you right now is that Chaewon is in desperate need of an actual doctor, and nobody here can provide that for her, so you rush out of the room, and, as fast as your legs can carry you, run to your father and wake him up in a hurry, grabbing his doctor’s bag. You’re glad for your father’s blind trust in you - other than an instinctive “Is Seeun alright?”, which you nod your head at, he doesn’t ask any questions, just sees you need his help. He listens to your unclear and frantic explanations of what’s going on as he follows you to the staff cabin. 

“Alright, out of the way, everyone, give the girl some space,” your father says as he enters Chaewon’s room, the way he carries himself and speaks instantly commanding obedience from the group. People filter out as he takes Sunghoon’s spot next to Chaewon, checking her pulse and temperature. “Who’s responsible for this lady?” he asks without looking away from his patient.

“I am,” Sunghoon says, taking a step towards him. “Is she gonna be okay?” He seems so distressed you want to take him into your arms and tell him it’ll be okay, but you can’t do that - not here, not in front of your dad.

Your father turns his head to take a look at Sunghoon, his expression unreadable, then turns back to Chaewon, leaving Sunghoon’s question unanswered, floating in the air ominously.

He makes you all leave the room, and you wait for what feels like hours until your father finally comes out, his briefcase in hand, and announces that Chaewon just needs some rest and then she’d be okay. He lets Jake thank him and shake his hand agitatedly, but once again just stares Sunghoon down and ignores him when he tries to do the same. He takes you by the shoulder, making you walk away with him without saying goodbye to anyone. He’s silent for a few moments, waiting to have gone down a few steps before he speaks, and when he does, his voice is tense and almost trembles with anger.

“Is this what my money paid for? I’m disappointed in you, Baby. You’re not who I thought you were.” He doesn’t even let you defend yourself, just keeps walking without looking at you. “I don’t want you to hang around those people anymore, do you understand?”

“But dad-”

“I don’t want to hear it,” he says firmly, and the slight increase of volume catches you off guard. Not once has your dad raised his voice at you, or at least not since you were a child - that’s how you understand how truly upset he is at you. He finally turns around to look at you, his eyebrows furrowed. “And get that stuff off of your face before your mother sees it.”

The rest of the walk back to your bungalow is done in unbearable, utter silence, and you can’t wait to be away from your father and the anger pouring off of him in waves. But that silence doesn’t seem to go away, even when you finally reach your bed, even when your sister starts snoring quietly, completely oblivious to the events of the night. The silence grows so loud in your ears that it creates a fuzz all around your brain, making your head throb and blurring your thoughts, rendering them incomprehensible. The sheer weight of it forces your eyelids closed even though you don’t feel tired at all - there’s too much going on in your mind for you to fall asleep.

There’s the relief of your father having helped Chaewon, and the knowledge that she’ll be okay thanks to him; but there’s also the image of his disappointed expression etched into your brain and the words “You’re not who I thought you were” playing on a hellish loop. There’s the worry he won’t ever see you the way he used to, that you won’t be his little girl anymore, but there’s also the satisfaction of that exact thing, the liberation that comes with your father finally realizing you’re not perfect and make mistakes too.

And then there’s Sunghoon.

There’s Sunghoon, and his concern for Chaewon’s safety, his love for his friend that he’s known for years, the hurt on his face when your dad didn’t shake his hand, and the way he quickly retracted his own thereafter, a defeated expression like he was used to such disrespect. But before that, there’s his dimpled smile and sharp canines you find weirdly endearing, the carefree sound of his laughter after you fall on top of him in the water, his warm hands guiding you from step to step, the quick glimpses he throws your way when he thinks you’re not looking but hopes that you are. Even before that, there were the ice-covered walls he put around himself and his friends that could melt as quickly as they could freeze back up, until finally one day he opened the door for you to come in. There was the elegance in his moves and the feeling like all the air in the room had evaporated when you watched him dance, only for it to fill you back up when he took you by the hand and showed you how to let yourself go for the first time.

The fog in your mind clears at the thought of him, like sunlight forcing its way through gray clouds after a thunderstorm. You need to see him.

You need to check on him, to make sure he’s feeling alright, and laugh with him if he is or cry if he isn’t. You need to hold his head between your palms and graze a hand through his hair and do and say all the things you’ve been wanting to this week.

You climb out of your bed and grab the first cardigan you see, then slip your shoes on and make your way to the front door. You try to be as quiet as possible, but once outside, you hang back just for a few moments in case anyone has heard you leaving, so that if they come to check, you can just say you’re getting some fresh air on the front porch. No one seems to stir so you rush to Sunghoon’s cabin. It’s past midnight and the only light guiding you is that of the stars and the bright moon up above.

When Sunghoon opens his door, he seems at once relieved and surprised to find you there. “Baby,” he simply says, gazing down at you. He looks so tired, you think. The performance at the Sheldrake was just a few hours ago, but it already feels so far away.

“Hey. Can I- can I come in?” you ask, slightly out-of-breath from your walking so fast.

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” he says, turning his body to let you in his cabin. Since your first time here, that night you’d found Chaewon crying in the kitchen, you’d learned more about this place. Thanks to his seniority here, Sunghoon has a separate studio-like cabin further down the path where all the staff bungalows are, and it’s bigger than most of them, even though it’s still just one room that accommodates his bed, a closet, a desk, a sink and some other chairs, shelves and drawers.

A soft song is playing in the background and the main light is off, the small lamps here and there providing enough light for you to see. You hadn’t at all thought to look around when you were here last, so you’re curious to really see what Sunghoon’s living space is like.

You walk further into the room, taking in your surroundings and reveling in all the traces of Sunghoon’s life - discarded clothes here and there, a stack of record players from the early fifties to now, posters of movie stars and famous singers, some photos of him with Jake, Chaewon and other members of the entertainment team. He looks around like he’s seeing the room for the first time too, maybe trying to see it through your eyes and imagining what you could be thinking of it. He picks up clothes from the floor and from an armchair only to throw them in his closet, gesturing for you to sit down, and rubs the back of his neck in what seems like an embarrassed gesture.

“It’s not much… you’re probably used to a lot better…” he says with an apologetic tone.

“No, no, it’s great,” you say quickly, not wanting him to feel embarrassed. You look at him with a smile. “I love it here.”

He mirrors your smile, letting out a shaky breath of relief, then sits down at the edge of his bed, too far away for   your liking. The tense atmosphere from earlier in the car is back, filling the room with the silence of a thousand unspoken words. A beat passes before you speak up. “I’m sorry about the way my father treated you, Sunghoon. It wasn’t nice.”

Sunghoon looks genuinely shocked upon hearing your words and starts to shake his head fervently. “No, no, your father was great, the- the way he took care of Chaewon, I could never do anything like that in my life, he was amazing.”

“Yes, but I’m talking about you, Sunghoon, not Chaewon. He completely ignored you, he should have treated you with more respect.” His eyes find yours, and the look on his face like he wants to believe you but can’t quite bring himself to makes your heart ache.

He chuckles and lets his head hang low, looking down at his hands. “Why should he? I’m- I’m nothing,” he says quietly, so quietly that you think you might have misheard, because never in a hundred years would you have thought that someone like Sunghoon could think so lowly of himself.

Your surprise makes it hard to gather your words and say something coherent, but you try your best. “What- Sunghoon, how could you say that? You’re not nothing, you’re- you’re everything,” you say, the last word coming out breathy.

He looks at you like he’s never heard those words before, never had somebody tell him he was so much more than he thought he was - but maybe that’s because he’d never told anyone how he really felt. A pained expression flashes across his face, and you’re scared you might’ve said the wrong thing but his next words reassure you that that’s not it.

“You don’t understand… One month, I’m living off of scraps and struggling to make ends meet, and the next, rich ladies are stuffing hundred dollar bills in my pockets and giving me the key to their room. Everywhere I am, people just use me to get what they need. My dad basically forces me to work with him and doesn’t give a crap what I really want, the women here use me to escape the boredom of their lives, and Max and his asshole grandson Jay just want me to make as much money as I can so they can get even richer.” His voice gets louder the more he talks, the anger getting to him. He chuckles darkly, but his expression softens when he catches your gaze. “I have to live like this. If I start thinking I deserve more, that I- that I’m everything, like you say, I’ll never be satisfied. I’ll always want more. I can’t handle that.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way. It shouldn’t be that way,” you say quietly, shaking your head and looking at him sadly. You don’t know how to make him see that for the joy he brings everyone who gets to see him dance, for the care and safety he gives the people he loves, and the way he’s made you feel like you can finally escape the thoughts in your head, he deserves everything he wants in the world. You don’t know how to make him see his worth and the respect he deserves as much as anyone else.

He smiles at you wistfully, like he can see his own, long-gone, naive hopefulness on your face. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Baby. You look at the world and you think you can make it better.”

It’s your turn to chuckle humorlessly. “Yeah, I run to my daddy, like you said.”

“No,” he says firmly, his tone catching you off guard. “No, that took a lot of guts, doing what you did. I love that about you, you just go ahead and do things. You didn’t even know Chaewon, and yet you learned a whole professional routine in a week just because you wanted to and you could. And now you risked your relationship with your father just to help her out once again. You- you’re not scared of anything!”

“Me? I’m scared of everything!” you cry out, suddenly standing up, the emotions boiling in your stomach making you unable to sit any longer. “I’m scared of the disappointment in my parents’ eyes, of failing school, of being stuck in a life I can’t escape from…” Your gaze travels around the room before it settles on Sunghoon once again, your gazes locking each other in so tightly you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to look away. “But most of all,” you continue, voice shaky and desperate, “I’m scared of leaving this place and never, ever feeling again the way I do when I’m with you.”

His jaw tightens and he has to force himself to look away from you, his eyes focusing on a random object in the corner of the room. With the way he huffs air through his nose and tenses his whole body, he almost looks angry, but you know that’s not it - finally, after a week of torturous hesitation and not-knowing, you understand how Sunghoon feels about you. He feels just like you. All those lingering gazes, those small shocks of electricity whenever you touched, those loud heartbeats at his constant proximity, he felt them too, and it drove him crazy too; you’re sure of it.

Or at least, almost sure of it. And there’s only one way to confirm your suspicions.

Sunghoon thinks you’re not scared of anything, so you’re going to prove it to yourself. You take a step towards him, then another one, and another one, until you’re standing right in front of him. You extend a hand out to him and he doesn’t question it, just takes it and rises, now towering over you as you had over him just a second ago. You’re as close as you usually are when you dance together - or perhaps a bit closer than that.

“Dance with me,” you whisper into the space between your bodies.

“What, here?” he whispers back, finally looking at you. His gaze lingers in your eyes before dropping to your lips, his pupils slowly dilating - there’s your confirmation. 

“Yes, here,” you reply, echoing your conversation on the tree trunk, which somehow was only yesterday.

You wrap your arms around his neck just as his hands come up to hold you by the waist. It’s a position you’ve found yourselves in a hundred times by now, but tonight, it feels so different. The air around you is charged with electricity and all of your moves are purposeful, trying to make the other feel all that you’re feeling with just a touch.

Tight in each other’s arms, you sway to the slow rhythm of the music, your head resting in the crook of his neck while his hands travel from your waist, to your shoulder blades, back down to your hips. Even with two layers of clothing between your bodies, the feeling of having him so close sends shivers down your spine, even though your skin burns everywhere it comes into contact with him. Your breath makes goosebumps appear on the side of his neck, and when his grip on your hips tightens, you take it as a green light to start pressing faint kisses to his skin. He bunches the fabric of your blouse in his hands, slowly pulling it from the confines of your jeans and over your head, making you raise your arms. He makes a ball out of your top and throws it somewhere across his room, his attention fully taken by the sight of your now half-naked body. He immediately discards his own t-shirt, putting his hands back on you as quickly as he can, as if scared you might suddenly disappear.

You go on dancing together, bodies moving in harmony, as if you’re one being rather than two. You let your hands travel over his shoulders and chest and rest them on his stomach as you lean your upper body backwards, trusting him to hold you while you circle your way back to him. When you do, his hands roam down to grab your ass and hike one of your legs around his hips, the friction of your pelvises rubbing together eliciting a heavy, relieved sigh from both of you.

Finally, your lips find each other, and you kiss like you’re each other’s sources of oxygen. Of course, Sunghoon is one of, if not the best, kissers you’ve ever had the honor of sharing a kiss with, because how could he be anything other than perfect? The way he kisses is intense and a little bit messy, and it ignites your whole body, making you crave only more and more until you’ve had everything you want. Your hands and his are restless, endlessly drifting over each other’s bodies, grabbing at shoulders or hips or strands of hair.

He walks backwards to his bed, never once breaking the passionate embrace, until the back of his legs hit the mattress. He sits, spreading his legs wide enough for you to stand between them. His face is right at the level of your chest, and the way he looks up at you as he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses there makes your insides burst and the fire in your core burn harder. Keeping eye contact with him is too much to handle, so you close your eyes and let your head back slightly, grazing your hands through the soft locks of his hair and simply enjoying the feeling of his mouth on you. His warm hands roam your lower back before traveling north to the clasp of your bra. He undoes it but doesn’t take it off - instead, he calls your name, and it’s never sounded better than on his lips.

“Baby?”

“Hm?” You look back down at him and find in his eyes a sort of lustful, dreamlike daze that you’re sure must reflect your own perfectly.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks breathily, wanting to be certain this is okay for you, but sounding like it’d be the death of him if you said no.

You smile softly and take his head in your hands. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

He smiles too, exposing his sharp canines and pretty dimples, and sighs of relief. “Thank God.”

Your bra comes off, and you almost laugh when his pupils blow out at the sight of your naked chest, but your amusement dies, cut off by a loud moan as soon as he takes one of your nipples in his mouth, twirling his tongue around and sucking on the sensitive bud before moving on to the other one. One of his hands rests on your ass while his other arm is wrapped around your waist, and his grip on your waist tightens every time you make a sound that he particularly appreciates. You’re pulling at his hair so much, you’re almost scared of hurting him, but truth be told you’re too focused on the way his mouth feels on you to really be careful about it.

“Come here,” he says, voice hoarse. His jeans aren’t doing a very good job of hiding how hard he is, and he groans at the sudden contact when he pulls you down into his lap. You press kisses everywhere you can - his cheeks, the crook of his neck, his hair, before finding his lips once again. You don’t even realize you’re grinding yourself against him until he breaks away from the kiss to let out a quiet moan, and you bury your face in the dip between his shoulder and his neck, breath hot against his skin as you whine in pleasure.

You could do this for hours, and maybe you do - but at some point, you start needing something more and your core throbs, desperate for more attention. And what better way to communicate that to Sunghoon than to show him exactly what you want?

You unwrap your arms from around his shoulders and let your hand roam down to the waistband of his jeans, smiling shyly at him as you get down on your knees in front of him. He watches with a pained expression, like the anticipation of what you’ll do next actually hurts him, as you unbutton and unzip his jeans, then slide them along with his boxers down his legs. To distract from the fact that his size slightly intimidates you, you take him in your hand right away, circling his reddened tip with your thumb before starting to bring your palm up and down his shaft while your other hand rubs his thigh.

You’re absolutely breathtaken by the sight in front of you: Sunghoon’s abs tensing visibly at your ministrations, his head hung back and his neck and Adam’s apple flushed red on display for you, moans increasing in volume as you continue. You had a feeling Sunghoon wouldn’t be a quiet one, and you’re proud to be proven right.

You put your own needs aside for now, just wanting to see Sunghoon in as much pleasure as you can give him. You bring your head forward and lick a stripe up his length, satisfied when he lets out his loudest moan so far. You don’t tease for too long, only licking at his tip for a bit before taking more of him in your mouth. You keep one hand at the base of his shaft and swirl your tongue around the part you’re able to reach. 

This is the first time you’ve gotten so much pleasure from giving - maybe because Sunghoon’s reactions feed your ego, maybe because you’re so obsessed with him that knowing you’re making him feel good is enough, or maybe both. Definitely both.

But Sunghoon doesn’t let you have your fun for too long, and soon pulls your face gently away from him. His flushed face and fucked-out expression is gratifying to say the least. You look up at him with a smile, rubbing his thighs with your palms as you wait for him to catch his breath.

“A minute longer,” he says, panting, “and I would’ve died.” You giggle at his dramatics and hoist yourself back up, about to position yourself again on his lap but Sunghoon has other plans. He lays you down on your back and comes to rest on his side next to you, holding himself up on a forearm; that way he has both full access to and full view of your face and body. Perfect.

His face is close enough to yours to press kisses there and on your neck while his hand makes his way down your body. When it reaches the waistband of your jeans, you don’t wait for him to say or do anything and undo them yourself, which makes Sunghoon smirk.

“Impatient, are you?” he teases.

“You’re one to talk,” you bite back with a smile, even though your cheeks start to burn.

He slips a hand under your jeans, and gathers slick from between your folds before starting to rub small circles on your clit with the pads of two fingers. He soon gets frustrated from the way your clothes restrict his movements, and whispers in your ear, “Might as well take everything off while we’re at it, don’t you think?”

You roll your eyes at his playful tone but comply, more than happy to undress if it means he can touch with more ease. And indeed, he wastes no time before slipping a finger inside you, smirk widening at the loud half-gasp half-moan you let out at the feeling. “Much better,” he whispers again, but any comeback is wiped from your mind as he adds a second finger in, curling them so that they hit just the spot. You’re drenched at this point, your arousal sticking to the inside of your thighs, but that only makes it easier for him to slip his fingers in and out and means you’re more than ready for him. He keeps his thumb on your clit so that the friction there doesn’t stop either, and it isn’t long before you start to feel that familiar knot twisting your insides, appearing much quicker than you’d like it to.

“Sunghoon- I’m gonna, I’m-”

“You are, huh?” he breathes against your neck in between kisses. And just like that, as if you’d told him to stop and not that you were about to finish, he slips his fingers out of you, watching your reaction with a devilish, amused smirk.

“What? No, no-” you whine, but it’s no use. He rolls away from you, opening the drawer in his bedside table to retrieve something, and he’s lucky it’s a condom, because you might have killed him if it was anything else.

“Just because it’s our first time, I’m making you cum on my cock,” he explains as he rips open the small packet and puts the condom on. He comes back and places himself over you, pressing a kiss to your cheek and aligning himself with your entrance. “Next time, you’ll cum on my fingers and mouth as much as you want, Baby.”

And then, he pushes in.

You don’t need to tell him to go slow, or to wait before he starts moving; he knows. He holds himself up on his hands, biceps tight, and watches your face carefully for any sign of pain or discomfort while he furrows his way in, inch by inch.

When he finally bottoms out, he presses a soft kiss to your glistening hairline and bends down to whisper in your ear, “I’ve been thinking about this all week, and it’s even better than I imagined.”

The corners of your lips tug upwards, but the feeling of Sunghoon filling you up like this makes your brain go fuzzy and you can’t even begin to form coherent words or thoughts. You grab on to his biceps and shoulders as he starts to move back and forth, slowly at first, but progressively picking up speed, your moans egging him on.

He takes one of your legs and hikes it up around his hip, allowing him to go deeper and hit that spot that has you arching your back and crying out. You’re clawing at his back, eyes shut tight and mouth going dry, and his fast, regular rhythm is bringing you to the edge once again. Either Sunghoon has terrible timing, or he knows precisely how close you are and wants to tease you, because he slows down and pulls out. “I just want to make it last a bit longer,” he explains, murmuring the words in the crook of your jaw and neck before pressing a kiss there.

He pushes himself away from you and sits up on his bed, his back against the headboard. He looks at you with a lopsided smile, and when you position yourself on his lap, you take a couple moments to admire him before taking him again. His hairline beads with sweat, his face and upper body are flushed a light red color, his breathing is quick and shallow, mouth slightly agape, and his eyelids are heavy with lust, eyes almost closed. He’s never looked so good. 

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” he asks, and you smile both at the compliment and at the fact that you were thinking the same thing about him just a second ago, as if you shared each other’s exact thoughts. You shake your head, and his gaze turns loving as he brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Baby. There. Said it.”

You kiss him passionately before taking him in your hand and raising yourself on your knees to guide his tip towards your entrance, keeping eye contact with him as you sink onto his length. The new position hits even more sensitive spots and makes the two of you moan simultaneously. 

Deciding to let him rest for a bit, you start moving yourself up and down on his cock, quickly settling into a nice rhythm that doesn’t tire your legs out too much but still manages to make you see stars. You hold onto Sunghoon’s shoulders, hands sometimes grabbing onto his hair while his stay firmly planted on your ass, kneading the soft skin there. You try to hold his gaze for as long as you can, but the pleasure starts to overwhelm you and you can’t do anything but shut your eyes, head falling back as loud moans escape your lips. There’s no way you could have kept it quiet, so you’re extremely grateful that Sunghoon’s living quarters are far enough away to avoid an audience.

Despite the immense pleasure of being on top of him and of choosing your own rhythm, your thighs start to hurt after a few minutes of this. Thankfully, Sunghoon notices your decreasing pace and the way your legs falter, and takes things into his own hands, finally ready to stop edging and bring the both of you to your ends. One hand on your lower back, one arm wrapped around your shoulders, he presses your chest firmly to his, hugging you tight, and starts bucking his hips into you at a pace that has you crying out into his shoulder. Your hands find purchase in his hair, pulling tight enough to hurt at the roots. If Sunghoon stops, it might be the death of you, so even if it’s a struggle to get the words out, you want to let him know how you feel.

“Fuck, Sunghoon, right there, please don’t stop, please- oh, my God!”

The sound of your two bodies coming together is lewd, but it only adds to your bliss, and in just thirty seconds of this, the knot in your stomach breaks loose and sends your whole body trembling against Sunghoon’s. He’s not long after you, the sound of his name over and over on your tongue as you cum sending him tumbling over the edge. You feel hot tears streaming down your face at the relief of finally having come undone, and the sounds leaving your lips now are fainter, your body too weak to even make any noise. 

You stay like this for a few moments, body limp on top of his, allowing your breaths to return to normal. You’ve had two boyfriends before, and they were the only two you’d ever had sex with, so it’s not like you had already discovered everything about the joys of sex, but you knew for sure that it didn’t always feel like this, didn’t always take you to heaven and back. Usually, you’d have stood up and cleaned yourself by now, but with Sunghoon, you never want to leave this spot. Fall asleep like this, wake up like this, stay as long as you wanted like this. But after a few minutes, Sunghoon stirs and you jolt out of your daze, getting off of him, wincing slightly at the sensitivity between your legs. 

He slips from his seated position and lays on his back. You follow suit, turning your body towards the ceiling, suddenly feeling shy at the idea of touching him, of getting closer - or maybe scared that he’ll suddenly want to be left alone, or worse, never want to see you again. But all your negative thoughts dissipate when he shifts to his stomach, sliding slightly down the bed to rest his head on your chest, burying his face there, hugging your waist tight, and letting out a contented sigh. Although your heart swells at his ridiculously cute actions, to say you aren’t a bit surprised would be a lie - after seeing a leading, more dominant side to him all week, since he was the one teaching you the dance and guiding you through the moves, you had thought it would translate to the way he was in bed. Yet, he had let you do what you wanted, let you set your own pace, as much as he had himself. And now, he was perfectly happy seeking out your affection and not making you come to him. It made you appreciate him that much more.

One of your hands makes its way to his back, grazing your fingernails along the expanse of it, while the other plays gently with his hair. You fall asleep in record time, perfectly at peace and exhausted from so much exertion.

-

When you wake up a few hours later, you’re still laying on your back, and although Sunghoon has drifted away, probably due to the heat in the room, your legs are still intertwined and he’s got an arm resting on your midriff. There’s nothing to let you know the time, so you look out the window and notice with panic that the sun has started to rise, which means it must be close to six a.m. You try to shake Sunghoon awake, but he just grumbles something incoherent and hugs you tighter to him, which you absolutely would have swooned over if you didn’t need to get back to your bungalow - and so you shake him harder.

“Sunghoon, wake up!” you say, far too quietly for it to actually wake him up, but he looks so cute asleep that it’d break your heart to wake him up too harshly.

“Why…” he whines, face buried in your neck and voice coming out muffled.

“I don’t want my father to notice that I’m gone,” you say, the aftertaste of the words bitter in your mouth.

“Why, what time is it?” he asks, slowly coming to his senses.

“I’m not sure, but he never wakes up late, so I don’t wanna risk it.” Your father, needing a real break from intense work days, had started waking up at 6:45 instead of 5:30 every morning. How relaxing.

“But I want you to stay,” Sunghoon grumbles, and you bless him for speaking your own thoughts but also curse him for making it harder to leave.

“I know, so do I. But I’ll see you later, okay?”

A beat. “Fine,” he sighs, then pushes himself off of you. He doesn’t look at you while you put your clothes back on and walk out of the room, but you know he can’t have fallen asleep again so quickly, so you’re terrified of having said or done something extremely wrong, but you can’t take it back now, so you just close the door behind you and rush back to your own bed.

The breakfast table is completely silent, the tension between you and your father clear to your mother, who doesn’t say anything, scared of accidentally adding fuel to the fire, and even to your sister, who eats her grapefruit quietly, darting her eyes back and forth between the three of you. Jay shows up from only God knows where and, not even trying to read the room, asks cheerfully what you’re all planning on performing at the show.

“We won’t be at the show,” your father says, making everyone’s heads snap towards him. “We’re leaving tomorrow morning, miss the weekend traffic.”

“We haven’t discussed this, honey,” your mother says just as Seeun whines, “But Daddy, we’ll miss the show!” You keep quiet, pretending the overcooked scrambled eggs on your plate are the most interesting thing you’ve ever seen. 

“It’s the biggest night of the season!” Jay chimes in, also trying to persuade him.

“Yeah, and I wanted to sing something!” your sister adds.

Your father looks back and forth between your mother’s and sister’s bewildered faces, then sighs and begrudgingly bows to their wishes. “Alright, alright, it was just an idea.”

A smile breaks on your mother’s face and Seeun clasps her hands together with a small noise of joy. “Perfect,” Jay exclaims, pointing a finger at you as he walks away. “Baby, I’ll need you for props.”

“So, Seeun, what songs do you have in mind?” your father asks and gets up, gesturing at your sister to follow him, although he looks completely uninterested. She practically jumps up from her seat and starts listing all her song ideas, leaving her half-finished breakfast behind.

You finish eating your own, making small talk with your mother for long enough so that she isn’t suspicious of your trying to escape, although you can tell she knows something is up and just won’t mention it. You thank her silently for it, and excuse yourself from the table to go check up on Chaewon.

When you get to her room, she’s still in bed, but isn’t sleeping and doesn’t look in pain anymore - she’s sitting up, flicking through a fashion magazine. She smiles brightly when she sees you at her door, discarding the magazine and extending her hands out to you.

“How are you feeling?” you ask as you take her hands in yours, crouching next to her bed.

“Much, much better,” she says, sounding relieved at her own answer. “You just missed your father. He’s an amazing man.”

You only have time to talk for a minute when the door opens once again to reveal Sunghoon. Seeing him creates a pit in your stomach, either from the memory of what you did last night or from the way you had to escape soon thereafter. You stand up straight, taking a few steps away from Chaewon. He looks at you briefly before turning his attention to her, and asks the same question you did moments prior.

“I’m feeling a lot better. Baby’s father says I’m still able to have children.”

“That’s great, Chaewon, that’s amazing,” Sunghoon says, sounding relieved.

“But what about you guys? How did the show go last night?” she asks, a hopeful expression on her face.

Sunghoon glances at you, and you avoid his gaze as best you can. “It went well,” he simply says, not explaining any further. 

“Yeah, I didn’t do the lifts, but other than that it went well.”

Chaewon looks at him, then at you, and all at once notices the awkward tension in the air - and she understands the situation as clearly as if it had been written out in black and white for her.

It’s silent for a few seconds until you speak. “Well, I guess I better go then… I’ll see you around.” You give Chaewon a small smile and head to the door, letting your eyes linger on Sunghoon before slipping out. But of course, you can’t actually bring yourself to leave, and sit on the stairs a few meters away from the door. From where you are, you can hear every word spoken inside the cabin.

“Sunghoon,” Chaewon starts.

“So, you’re feeling better, huh?”

“Sunghoon.”

“But you should still get some rest, right?”

“Sunghoon, stop it.” That shuts him up. “What are you doing? You’ve told me so many times not to get mixed up with them,” she says, sounding at once worried and reproachful.

“I know what I’m doing, alright?”

“Sunghoon, listen to me you gotta stop it, you know it’s not gonna end well-”

“I said I know what I’m doing,” he snaps, but seems to immediately regret it. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Chaewon, I just- you’re in no position to be worrying about me right now. I know what I’m doing. I trust her.” There’s a small silence, and you have no idea what expression Chaewon must be wearing right now. Is she unsure, satisfied, worried, angry? Is she nodding, trying to respect his decision, or looking like Sunghoon’s making the biggest mistake of his life? “I’ve gotta go, but I’ll see you later, alright? Rest up.”

“Alright, see you later, Hoon,” she says quietly, and when Sunghoon opens the door, he finds you waiting for him. You stand up and just look at him, unsure how to express what’s on your mind. You’d completely forgotten everything you had meant to tell him.

“Oh, hey, Baby,” he says upon seeing you.

“Hey.”

You both just stand there, staring at each other, no idea how to start the much-needed conversation.

“Look, I’ve got a uh, a lesson I need to go to right now, so…” he trails off.

“Right, right, no problem,” you say, nodding far too vigorously.

“But I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, you will.”

Neither of you move for a few moments, and you feel like you’re completely stuck in place, unable to move until you’ve had the reassurance that things can stay as they were between you and Sunghoon. But he walks past you, already a few meters away when you gather the courage to call out his name, and he turns around so quickly, you dare to hope he might have been waiting for you to do so. You don’t say anything, you just smile, and hope he understands. He smiles back, an actual smile where his dimples appear and the corners of his eyes crinkle, and you know that for now at least, everything is okay.

-

“God, I am so sick of this rain,” your sister complains as she dabs powder on her face, covering up non-existent blemishes. All four of you are in the living room of your bungalow, resting after lunch and getting ready for the rest of the day. You and your father play a boring game of checkers, trying to make the tension disappear slowly, while your mother reads some detective novel.

“Where is my beige iridescent lipstick?” Seeun asks furiously, punctuating each of her words, as if that was the kind of everyday thing that lies about in everyone’s house.

Your father wins the game and looks relieved that it’s over more than anything. You pick up a light raincoat and head towards the door, but your mother calls out your name, stopping you in your tracks.

“Where are you going in this weather?” she asks with curiosity rather than wariness in her voice.

“They’re playing charades in the main lobby,” you reply casually, used to giving out random excuses by now.

“Quite the little joiner, are we?” your sister teases, and you’re not sure if she’s just making fun of you or if she knows you’re up to something but you ignore her anyway and walk out of the cabin.

You make your way to Sunghoon’s place as quickly as you can to avoid the rain. You had ran into him that morning and, when your parents weren’t looking, he let you know that he was free all afternoon with a smile that was as good as a spoken invitation.

He brings you into a hug as soon as you’ve closed the door behind you and presses a kiss to the top of your head, murmuring an apology into your hair. “I’m sorry I acted so awkwardly yesterday. You left so suddenly that night, and I was scared you regretted it…”

You lean back and gaze into his eyes. “I regret absolutely nothing, Sunghoon.”

He breathes out a relieved sigh, smiling as he nods. “Good. Me either.”

You press your lips to his, and although the kiss starts out slow and soft, it doesn’t take long for things to heat up. You let out a small yelp when Sunghoon lifts you up and carries you to the bed, laying you down gently on the mattress. He holds up to the promise he’d made the other night - namely, making you cum on his tongue and fingers as much as you want, or rather, as you soon find out, as much as he wants.

He starts by undressing you slowly, taking his time to revel in the sight of your naked body and the idea that it’s all for him. He only leaves your panties on, rubbing small circles over your clothed clit as he works his mouth on your nipples and breasts, paying each side its due attention. He then makes his way down, leaving warm kisses everywhere he can from your stomach to your inner thighs, and makes sure to work you up and have you squirming before actually slipping your panties off and giving you what you want. Once he’s wrapped his lips around your clit, it’s like he can’t get enough. With two fingers inside you, he sucks and licks at the sensitive bud for what feels like so long that you don’t know how his wrist and jaw don’t get tired. You don’t even try to count the number of times he makes you cum, simply taking every orgasm in stride, and even though you get so sensitive after a while, you’ve entered some sort of blissful, exhausted daze that you can’t bring yourself to break away from.

Afterwards, you’re lying next to Sunghoon, your head resting on his chest and grazing your fingernails up and down his arm while he plays with your hair. You’ve somehow managed not to fall asleep despite the tiredness filling your entire body, and you and Sunghoon talk quietly, the sound of the rain outside like a peaceful background song. You listen to him describe his dream of opening a dance school someday and choreographing professionally, then he listens as you talk about all the places you want to visit and the things you want to learn about the world. You share childhood memories and awkward first kiss anecdotes and compare your relationships with your parents and the similar sort of pressure they put on your shoulders, albeit for two very reasons.

“My dad especially, he just doesn’t understand that dancing can be an actual profession. He sees it as some kind of hobby I’ve had since I was a teenager and that it’ll pass soon when I realize I can’t make a living out of it. He completely ignores the fact I get paid more in three months here than in half-a-year with him, but he doesn’t mind taking the part of my salary I give our family when I come back, that’s for sure,” he chuckles humorlessly. “I’m scared he’ll think I’m betraying him if I don’t take up his carpentry business.”

“I was top of my class in elementary school, and my parents thought that meant I was the brightest little girl in the world and would grow up to achieve great things,” you explain in a joke-admirative voice. “And even if they tried not to say anything, I could see the disappointment on their faces when I brought home a B or was ranked third at a test. I’m happy I got into Yale, and that they can afford to pay for my studies, but it’s just gonna be even more pressure for four more years.” After a beat, you decide to add, “I can only forget about all of this when I’m with you. You just make all of my worries disappear for a while.”

The conversation takes a slightly sentimental tone as you tell each other what your first impression of the other was. You admit sheepishly to Sunghoon that you were attracted to him as soon as you saw him dancing with Chaewon that first night, and that you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him after he danced with you, even though you found him a bit of an asshole the first couple of days he taught you the dance. You tell him you were sure he hated you at first, and he reveals that he didn’t at all.

“But I can see why you thought that. I just… I had never met anyone like you, Baby. Someone who thought she could just show up somewhere and decide to help a stranger out for no other reason than to help them out of the kindness of their heart. I didn’t know if you were the most foolish or the bravest person ever. And yeah, I’ll admit, I wasn’t the nicest to you at first. I kinda have this thing against… against rich people, I guess,” he says, chuckling softly. “For me, a wealthy person is like Max, or Jay, or all those ladies here. They use their wealth to get you to do what you want. But you’re not like that, and it took me a while to understand that. I’m sorry,” he finishes, pressing another kiss to your hair.

“No, no, it’s okay… I’m sorry they’ve all treated you like that. You deserve better.” He thanks you quietly and a comfortable silence settles between the two of you for a few minutes and you’re close to falling asleep when Sunghoon calls out your name.

“Hm?”

“What’s your real name?”

You raise your head to look at him and flash him a big smile. It’s been ages since someone asked you that, most people not bothering to question your nickname.

“It’s Y/N.”

“Y/N…” he echoes, gazing at you lovingly. “It fits you perfectly.”

You press a gentle kiss to his lips in response, and you think it’s gonna end at that, but Sunghoon pulls you back in right as you’re about to lean out, and you know you’re done for. You’re still extremely sensitive but that only adds to the pleasure of him filling you up, intertwining your fingers with him as you make love, his thrusts slow but deep and your bodies pressed flush against each other. Your heart is bursting with something that you can only recognize as love.

-

That night, as you’re on the verge of falling asleep, your sister says something that jolts you awake.

“I’ve decided to go all the way with Heeseung,” she says, a hint of a smile in her voice. 

You snap your head towards her. “What? Seeun, no, you shouldn’t-”

“I’ve already thought about everything. I want it to happen on the night of rehearsals, I know what I’ll wear-”

“No, Seeun, listen, you can’t do it with Heeseung, I’ve already told you he’s bad news!” you whisper-scream, trying to get some sense into her head without your parents overhearing.

“Who else with, then?” she whisper-shouts back.

“Just- I don’t know, but not with him, it needs to be with someone you actually love, someone you can trust-”

“I can trust Heeseung. I do trust him - more than I trust you, actually,” she says, the conversation taking another turn.

“Seeun-”

“No, Baby. You don’t actually care about this, or even about me. All you care about is that you’re not Daddy’s little girl anymore. He listens when I talk now.” She turns her back to you with a huff.

“Seeun-” you try again, but she’s already done talking.

“Goodnight.”

You want to find a way to stop your sister from wasting an important experience like having sex for the first time on a guy like Heeseung, but you also know that once she’s set her mind to something, it’s hard to stop Seeun from doing it. Maybe this will be a lesson for her to learn from, you think, trying to reassure yourself.

The next afternoon, when your parents are busy playing cards with another couple and Seeun is off somewhere with her friends, you sneak off to visit Sunghoon in his dance classroom. He has an hour free in between classes and you use that opportunity to mess around for a bit. You put on a song you both love and dance together whichever way you want, acting out and lipsyncing to the lyrics. You have fun teasing him by swerving your head when he leans in for a kiss or trailing your hand along his arms, shoulders and back.

The sound of loud footsteps coming up the stairs spoils your fun, and you quickly position yourself face to the mirror and pretend you’re practicing basic mambo moves while Sunghoon heads to the record player. The one and only Jay stands at the door and seems to falter for a second at seeing you here.

“Hey, Baby, taking dance lessons?” You simply nod at him. “I could teach you kid,” he says, mirroring your moves and dancing a few steps until Sunghoon makes the record scratch, stopping the music abruptly. Jay’s arms drop to the side and he gives you a look as if to say “check this guy out,” and you try not to roll your eyes at him. 

“Sunghoon,” he says, walking towards him with all the confidence of a boss talking to his employee. The addressee simply raises his chin at him, pretending to busy himself with the record player. “My grandfather put me in charge of the talent show, and I’ve been thinking about the final dance. I’d like to uh, you know, do something different-”

“Yeah?”

“Move with the times-”

“Yeah? That’s great, I’ve got plenty of ideas-” Sunghoon says, speaking so quickly he cuts himself off, but Jay’s smile drops instantly. “We’ve been working on something with the staff, it goes like-”

You watch in the mirror as Sunghoon dances a step you’ve never seen before, and it looks really cool but Jay shakes his head, gesturing at Sunghoon to quiet down like he would a kid, as if they weren’t the exact same age.

“Woah there, you’re way over your head, boy.” Sunghoon stands up straight once again, jaw locked tight. “I was thinking, instead of doing the last dance to the mambo, how about, this year, doing it to the pachanga?” Jay asks, looking at you with a smile and nodding, as if he’d just said the most revolutionary thing ever.

“Right,” Sunghoon says coldly, bursting Jay’s bubble.

“Well,” he says, clearing his throat, “you’re more than welcome to do the same tired number as the previous years, but I’m sure that next summer, we’ll find a dance instructor who’s-”

“The pachanga,” Sunghoon cuts him off, raising his voice over Jay’s. “Great idea, Jay, let’s do that.”

A satisfied smile grows on Jay’s lips as Sunghoon turns back to the record player, and he struts back towards you. When he’s close enough, he leans in and says conspiratorially, but still loud enough for Sunghoon to hear, “He’s, uh, a bit hard to get through to sometimes, but the ladies seem to like him.” He doesn’t realize that you’re one of said ladies. “Make sure you’re getting the full half-hour you’re paying, kid,” he says once he’s at the door, and slips out on that graceful note.

Sunghoon’s next class takes place on the gazebo, so you accompany him there, trying to keep up with his long strides made quicker by his frustration. “God, I just hate that guy, he has no idea what he’s talking about. He wouldn’t recognise a good idea if it hit him in the pachanga,” he huffs angrily.

“But can’t you just talk to him? I’m sure he’d listen if you’d just tell him-”

“Didn’t you see what happened, Baby? He won’t listen. I can’t get everything I want just by asking, he’s the one with the money, with the power, I can’t do anything-”

“But it isn’t right! You have to fight harder-”

“That’s not how it works for me, Baby-”

You let out a small gasp, interrupting Sunghoon whose head pivots towards you, but you take him by the shoulders and bring him down to a crouch next to you. He follows your gaze to find your father, leaving a building with Heeseung and Seeun. Your dad brings his arm around Heeseung and shakes his shoulder in a fatherly manner while Seeun looks at them with a smile. 

Sunghoon’s muscles tense in realization - you don’t want to be caught with him, especially not by your father. 

You’re completely oblivious to this, and stand back up when the three of them are out of sight. “Alright, I think they’re gone,” you say, and only realize what you’ve done when you see the tight expression on Sunghoon’s face.

“Fight harder, huh?”

You just messed up real bad. “No, Sunghoon, I was planning on telling him, I just haven’t yet-”

“I don’t believe you, Baby. I don’t think you’ve ever had the intention of telling him,” he says, shaking his head. His eyes look down at you harshly, and it hurts so much more now than when you’d just met. 

“Sunghoon, please-”

“I gotta go. I’ll see you later, Y/N.”

You watch Sunghoon’s shrinking figure, cursing yourself for your cowardice and for your inability to do exactly what you preach. Your father was already so disappointed in you for simply being friends with Sunghoon, so if he knew what you were actually up to, he might go and disown you.

A few hours with no one to spend them with get you thinking. You had always thought your father was the best man on earth. Funny, loving, kind, fair. But you now realize it might not be so - he is prejudiced towards people who aren’t like him and isn’t forgiving of others’ mistakes. He made you believe in a world where everyone should be equal, but he himself doesn’t treat everyone the same. 

You also hate what this is doing to Sunghoon. You, who had told him he deserved everything he wanted, weren’t even capable of holding his hand proudly for everyone to see. So, for Sunghoon’s sake as well as for your own, you have to tell your father how you feel for Sunghoon, and put up a fight if he tries to stop it.

But first, you had to find Sunghoon and apologize. It’s nearing dinnertime, and he shouldn’t be working anymore, so you go look for him in his room. He isn’t there, so you head to his dance studio, then the gazebo, and anywhere else you can think of where he might have classes. But he’s nowhere to find, and after half-an-hour of running around, your last option is to go ask Chaewon where Sunghoon might be. At least, you know she’ll be in her room, still recovering.

You take a second to catch your breath then knock on Chaewon’s door, then wait until she calls you in to open the door. “Hey, Chaewon, have you seen Sunghoon?” you ask, only realizing after you’ve said the words that it might be rude to be so direct, but you don’t have time to apologize because your eyes shift to the other person in the room, who is, of course, Sunghoon himself. He stands up from his seat on the armchair in the corner, looking at you with an unreadable expression. He could be anywhere on a scale where one extreme is ‘he hates you and never wants to talk to you again’ and ‘he has never been so relieved to see you’ and you’d have no idea.

“Can we, um, talk? Outside, if it’s okay?” you ask, eyes darting back and forth between Sunghoon and Chaewon. She smiles and jerks her head towards the door, silently telling Sunghoon to go with you. He purses his lips and nods, following you outside and closing the door behind him.

He rests his palms on the banister of the front porch, looking out at the lawn and the resort buildings in the distance. You stand behind him, bringing your palms up to his arms and kissing his shoulder. He closes his eyes and sighs, basking in your touch despite himself. “I’m sorry, Sunghoon. I’m sorry.” 

He turns around, gazing down at you with that unreadable expression on his face. “It’s okay. I understand.”

When he kisses you, the relief in your bones is like nothing else, better even than coming home to your bed after a long, tiring day, or than getting a good grade on a test you thought you’d failed. Your arms wrap around his neck while his find their way to your waist, and you revel in the closeness of your bodies and the taste of his lips, like mint and something uniquely Sunghoon that you can’t ever get enough of.

But unfortunately, you stay long enough in this position to attract the attention of a one-man audience. “Damn, guess I picked the wrong sister,” you hear Heeseung chuckle, and when you pull away from Sunghoon, you see that insufferable smirk on his face. How you wish you could just smack it off of there. “Didn’t know you put out like that, Baby.”

It all happens so quickly, you don’t have time to understand what’s going on, let alone stop Sunghoon from jumping over the banister. He stomps over to Heeseung, grabbing him by the collar and shaking hard. 

“Repeat what you just said, I dare you,” he says in a low, menacing voice, face close to Heeseung’s. The latter’s smirk falters for just a split second before coming back, as if incapable of not looking like an arrogant asshole for more than a few seconds at a time.

“I said,” Heeseung starts, “that I hadn’t thought Baby was so fucking easy.”

Heeseung has barely finished speaking that Sunghoon has raised his fist back, ready to strike the insolent expression off of the boy’s face. It’d be satisfying, that’s for sure, but it wouldn’t be worth risking his job, so you call out his name and make him stop in his tracks. He doesn’t look back at you, though, just keeps his hard gaze fixated on Heeseung, breathing heavily in anger.

“Sunghoon, please,” you repeat, pleading with him. 

“So, what’s it gonna be, loverboy?” Heeseung teases, but Sunghoon just drops his fist and pushes him away, making him stumble a few steps back. 

“You’re not worth it,” Sunghoon practically spits, sending one last cold look his way before walking back to you.

You don’t care enough to check how Heeseung reacts, just watching Sunghoon make his way back to you, relieved nothing happened. He stands in front of the banister, the height difference allowing you to hug his head to your chest and you press a kiss to the top of his head, whispering in his hair that you’re proud of him.

Soon afterwards, you have to head back to the building where the talent show will happen. He could do it anywhere else, but Sunghoon decides to plan out his performance in the same room, using the excuse of needing to see the stage just to stay around you. 

You’re painting some sort of fake coconut tree while competitors rehearse their performance, your sister by far the loudest of them. You try not to cringe as her dissonant voice reverbs around the room, but nobody pays her too much attention. It’s hard not to steal glances every two seconds at Sunghoon, and you tell yourself that he just looks especially good today in his tight black t-shirt and black jeans, but you also know he looks good everyday. His gaze also strays towards you more often than not, and you try not to burst into giggles every time your eyes meet, not wanting to raise any suspicion. 

This room is also where a group of men play their games of poker, and since it was big enough to host all of you, they had decided to stay there even through the preparations, sure that it wouldn’t disrupt their game. 

The not-staring takes on another level of difficulty when a lady you recognize as Vivian Kim leaves her spot standing behind her husband at the poker table to make her way to Sunghoon, walking in a fashion far too languorous for your taste. 

From where you are, you can’t hear exactly what she says, but it’s not hard to guess - an invitation to spend the night with her while her husband is busy, one last time before she leaves the resort and goes home.

Sunghoon stays silent but that doesn’t seem to deter her, and she flashes him a lurid smile before walking back to the poker table. He turns his head to check if you’ve seen what happened, but you look away from him and back at your coconut tree, hoping the jealousy you’re feeling isn’t written all over your face. 

Vivian’s husband calls out Sunghoon’s name, waving him over good-naturedly. You watch once again as Sunghoon walks over to the table and as Mr Kim pulls out dollar bills from his wallet. “Tonight’s the final poker tournament, so how about some dance lessons for my wife?” he asks, and you can’t tell from his tone whether he thinks that dance lessons really are what his money is paying for or if he knows what’s actually going on.

Sunghoon takes the money and Mr Kim smiles at him, returning to the game, but Sunghoon just stands there, staring at the bills in his hands, then to Vivian, behind him to you, and finally back at Mr Kim. “Thanks, Mr Kim, but I’m all booked up for the rest of the week ‘cause of the show, so I don’t think it’d be fair to take the money.”

Mr Kim nods as Sunghoon hands him back the cash, saying he appreciates his honesty. Vivian looks at him, eyes wide, obviously surprised at his sudden refusal. Sunghoon walks back to his seat, sending a small smile your way, and you try your best not to gloat. 

-

In the past few days, it’s become a bit of a habit to sneak out of your bungalow and rush to Sunghoon’s when your family has gone to sleep. Except tonight, what you don’t know is that Seeun hears you, because she’s planning on doing the exact same thing and paying Heeseung a visit. You’re already with your own lover when she heads out of the room, skipping in excitement and anticipation the whole way there. She’s applied lotion to her entire body, sprayed perfume to her neck, wrists and ankles, and has read all the sex advice columns of her favorite magazines - she’s more than prepared for this.

She reaches the door. Takes a deep breath in, stands up straight. Calls out, “Heeseung, it’s me!” but no answer comes. So she opens the door slightly, and almost drops her bag at the sight in front of her, gasping loudly. She has just enough reflex to close the door again and rest her back against it, taking a few seconds to let it sink in before running back to her bed, where she promptly explodes into tears.

Now more than ever, she wishes her sister was here, whether to comfort her or to say “I told you so.” She wishes you were here to help her make sense of finding Vivian Kim and Heeseung naked together in his bed when he had spent weeks making her believe he wanted to be with her and her only. She wishes you would curse him out and call him all the names she wants to but doesn’t have the courage to.

But unfortunately, you’re not there with her. Instead, you’re with Sunghoon, laying together in bed, your head resting on his chest and your legs intertwined. You’re both spent from a night of lovemaking and from your shower that was supposed to be innocent but quickly turned steamy. You wake up at dawn, knowing you’ll have to go soon but heart breaking at the thought of tearing yourself from Sunghoon’s warm embrace. You press soft kisses to his neck and whisper his name, trying to wake him up gently. His eyes stay closed as he tightens his arms around you and pleads with you to stay just a little bit longer, and you’re not strong enough to say no.

“I had a dream earlier where your father called me ‘son’ and put his arm around me like he did with Heeseung earlier.” His morning voice is raspy from sleep and sends butterflies straight to your stomach.

“I’m sorry, Sunghoon,” you hum. “I’ll talk to him today. I’ll tell him about you.”

You feel his chest rise up then down as he sighs. “I thought about it, and I feel like it’d make things even worse if he knew about us. He just seems to think I’m a bad guy, for some reason, and me being with his daughter will only make him hate me more.”

“But you’re not a bad guy. You’re the best guy,” you say, voice slightly whiny. You’re too sleepy to come up with a better reply, and it makes Sunghoon chuckle.

“Thanks, Baby.” He presses a kiss to your hair, and it’s become such a familiar gesture that you’re not sure how you’ll live without it once you go home.

It’s not long before you have to head back to your bungalow, and Sunghoon walks you outside, slotting his lips with yours for one last time this morning and making plans to meet up later. You don’t pay attention to anything other than him - not to the slight breeze picking up, or the sun rising, or the staff bungalows, off to the side from Sunghoon’s. But not paying attention means not noticing a figure standing on one of those staff bungalows, not seeing her eyes squinting at yours and Sunghoon’s embrace, first recognising him, and, once her initial shock wears off, recognising you. Because of course, just like you, Vivian Kim has to leave Heeseung’s bungalow before anyone notices - except that in your case, someone notices you.

And the consequences of it appear only a few hours later, as your family are having a late breakfast with Max and Jay. When the conversation first begins, you don’t think it’ll be of much importance to you.

“You know that feeling when you look at a patient and think he’s all fine, but then you get his x-rays and something’s completely wrong?” Max starts, addressing your father. “That’s exactly what it is to find out one of your staff, a trusted one at that, is a thief.”

“What happened, Max?” your father asks, eyebrows furrowed.

“Mr Kim’s wallet was stolen,” Max simply says, sighing. Jay jumps on the opportunity to explain the story himself, leaning in conspiratorially.

“It happened yesterday night when he was playing poker. One minute, his wallet was right there in his coat pocket, hanging on his chair behind him, and the next, it wasn’t.” Your sister lets out a small gasp.

“Vivian says she saw that dance kid Sunghoon walk by,” Max continues, and your head snaps up at the mention of Sunghoon’s name. “So we go and ask him if he’s got an alibi, and he says he was in his room alone all night, reading.”

Jay snorts. “There is not a single book in Sunghoon Park’s room.”

The whole time, you’re shaking your head slightly, unable to believe that Sunghoon might be wrongfully framed for this. You turn towards Jay, a pleading expression on your face. “Listen, there’s been a mistake, there’s no way Sunghoon did it-”

“There’s been similar thefts at the Sheldrake and even here. Three wallets stolen, and now Mr Kim’s!”

“No, I know he didn’t do it-”

“Stay out of it, Baby!” Jay snaps at you. You look at him in disbelief, because of the way he just talked to you, because of what they’re accusing Sunghoon of, but above all because it’s inconceivable that your parents ever wanted to set you up with a guy like him. Entitled, judgmental, unkind.

But you can’t just stay out of it - this concerns Sunghoon, and if you can stop it from happening, you’ll do everything so that he doesn’t lose his job over a false accusation. So you turn towards your father and Max, and plead Sunghoon’s case.

“I know Sunghoon didn’t take Mr Kim’s wallet, I know.”

“How can you be so sure?” your father asks.

“I-I can’t tell you, but Daddy, please, you have to trust me.”

Your father sighs, turning his attention back to his plate. “I’m sorry, Baby, but I can’t.”

“But- it could’ve been anyone else,” you continue, looking at Max now that your father avoids your gaze. “Maybe it was- oh, maybe it was that little old couple, the Schumachers, I saw her with a couple of wallets-”

“The Schumachers? Impossible,” Max refutes as your father furrows his eyebrows at you, raising his voice slightly.

“You don’t go around accusing innocent people, Baby!”

“But I saw them, I saw them at the Sheldrake- you said something was stolen at the Sheldrake, right?” you say, turning towards Jay again, your voice growing desperate.”

“Listen, Baby,” Max cuts in, voice calm but firm, “I’ve got an eyewitness and the kid has no alibi. Come on, Jay, let me show you how to fire an employee.”

You catch his wrist before he can turn away and gulp, preparing yourself for what you were about to say. “Wait a minute. I know Sunghoon didn’t do it, I know it, because he was in his room all night, and I know that because,” you pause for a second, risking a glance at your father, “because I was there with him.”

The table goes silent. You can feel yourself weighing down under the heavy gazes of everyone seated. After a few seconds that feel like an eternity, Max clears his throat and awkwardly says, “Right, well, we’ll investigate some more in light of these news-”

He’s cut off by the screech of your father’s chair being roughly pushed back. You watch as your father leaves the room, steam coming out of his ears, and you can only hope revealing the truth will be worth it in the end.

After giving your father some time to cool off, you find him in the empty gazebo, looking out at the lake. The water is still except for the parts where ducks dip their heads in and back out. Even now that the rain has stopped pouring every day, clouds still render the sky a blinding white, and the sun only appears now and then when they part enough to let a ray through. There’s a slight breeze that makes leaves flutter around, and you need to tighten your light cardigan around your shoulders.

You know he sees you approaching, but he keeps his gaze fixated on the lake, even when you call out to him. 

“I told you I wasn’t lying about Sunghoon,” you start. “But I’m sorry I lied about the money. I’m not proud of myself for that, you know. But you lied too,” you say, and he finally looks at you, awaiting an explanation. “You told me everyone deserved a fair break, but you meant everyone like you. You said I could change the world, but you meant by becoming a lawyer, or an economist, and marrying someone from Harvard!”

He closes his eyes as if in pain, then looks back out to the lake, staying silent. “I made a mistake. There’s things about me you don’t know, and things you might not like, but I’m in this family too, and if you love me, you’ll have to love my faults too.” Your voice shakes and your eyes start to water. Seeing your father’s eyes do the same only adds to the difficulty of saying what you want to say.

“Because I love you, Daddy, and I’m sorry I let you down, but you let me down too!” Your voice completely breaks on those last words, and you turn away, letting your feet guide you wherever before your dad can hear the sob that escapes your throat. You know your dad’s silent treatment won’t last for long, so you leave him in the gazebo to think and cry as much as he needs to.

Your body must have developed new instincts, because soon enough, you find yourself in Sunghoon’s cabin, unsure how you even got here. His things are still there, which reassures you of the fact that he hasn’t left yet. You pace back and forth in the room for a few minutes until your emotions suddenly come crashing down, all the stress and tension and strung feelings, leaving behind only exhaustion. You lay on Sunghoon’s bed, thinking you’ll just close your eyes for a few minutes. But when you open them again, they fall on Sunghoon’s face, and you have no idea how long you’ve been there.

“Sunghoon?” you murmur.

“I have been looking for you all over,” he says, crouching in front of you, and gives you time to sit up and rub the sleep out of your eyes. “You were right about the Schumachers. Fingerprinted their glasses. Turns out they were wanted in a bunch of other states for theft too. They found them when they were already trying to leave the resort,” he explains, and your smile grows wider and wider as he speaks. 

“Oh my God, that’s amazing! I knew it’d work out!”

But Sunghoon diverts his gaze down, unable to match your euphoric expression. “I’m out, Baby.”

You quickly put two and two together. “They fired you anyway because of me.” 

“And if I leave quietly, I get my summer bonus,” he says sarcastically.

Your anger makes you stand up, walk to one corner of the room then back, your voice rising on its own accord. “So I did it all for nothing, then? I hurt my family, you lost your job anyway - it was all for nothing!”

“It was not for nothing!” Sunghoon exclaims, volume matching yours. “Nobody has ever done anything like that for me!” He searches your eyes for the reassurance that everything that happened this summer was worth it, but he only finds sorrow in them.

“You were right, Sunghoon,” you say with a sad smile, voice lowering to a hum, “you can’t change anything no matter how hard you try.”

“No, Baby,” he says, walking towards you, “I don’t want that from you, you hear me? You can. You can do whatever you want.”

Your gazes stay locked in each other for a few painful moments until it becomes unbearable and you have to look away. “I used to think so too.”

There’s nothing left to say. You watch silently as Sunghoon begins packing the few belongings he has in two small suitcases and a rucksack, then help out when the passivity starts to make your muscles ache. He hasn’t got much, so he’s done in just a few minutes, and you don’t realize you have tears pooling in your eyes until Sunghoon himself notices and wordlessly takes you in his arms.

You’re heading to his car when he suddenly stops in his tracks, saying he has something he needs to do first. You don’t question it, just agree to wait for him. It’s not like you’ve got anything better to do anyway.

A few minutes later, unbeknownst to you, Sunghoon is knocking on your cabin’s door. Just as he’d hoped, your father is the one to open the door, squinting his eyes meanly at the young man behind it as soon as he realizes who he is. Your father stays silent as he stares Sunghoon down, making a chill run down Sunghoon’s neck. He clears his throat before speaking. “Doctor, I-” he starts, already cutting himself off to take off his sunglasses. “I’m going anyway, and I know what you must be thinking-”

“You don’t know anything about me,” your father interrupts, shaking his head in disdain at Sunghoon. “Anything at all.”

Sunghoon had really wanted to stay calm and focused, to just say what he wanted to stay, but now that he’s leaving, he has no reason to put up with the blatant disrespect and contempt of the clients and higher-ups any longer. “I know you want Baby to be like you. An admirable person, the kind people look up to, but if you could just see, she’s already like that-”

“I know my daughter far better than you do, so don’t you tell me what to see,” your father practically barks, unable to contain his anger. “What I see right now is someone who got his partner in trouble and sent her off to some butcher, then moved on to a younger, innocent girl like my Baby.”

Rather than frustrated, Sunghoon’s eyes grow tired and sad. There’s no fight left in him anymore - he can see he won’t be able to change your father’s mind, there’s no point even trying. “Yeah, I guess that’s what you would see,” he murmurs before walking away, back to you, the only person who’s ever wanted to truly understand him.

And then it’s goodbye. 

While you were waiting, you kicked pebbles, brooding over the fact that your already shortening time with Sunghoon was getting cut off even more. But as soon as you see him, those thoughts evaporate, and you’re left with bittersweetness in your mouth. You spent the most incredible summer with him by your side, and even though it’s coming to an end, maybe the experience and the memories are all that matters.

Sunghoon closes the trunk when he’s done packing it, and walks over to where you’re standing, back against the passenger door, arms crossed over your chest. He rests his forearm on top of the car and neither of you are able to look the other in the eye for fear of emotion overwhelming you.

“Guess we took them all by surprise, huh?” you say, trying on a light-hearted tone to dissolve the tension in the air.

“Guess we did,” he chuckles quietly, risking a glance up at you. Your eyes meet and before you can break down, you turn your body towards his, nesting your face in the crook of his neck. He presses a kiss to your hair like a hundred times before and it’s enough to make your heart break. 

“I don’t know what I’ll do without you around.”

He rests his chin on the top of your head. “You’ll just have more time for card games and croquet,” he jokes, but you can’t laugh. “And Jake and Chaewon will still be around.” It’s silent for a few more minutes, and you try to commit the feeling of him against you and the smell of his skin to memory. “I’ll never be sorry,” he finally says, voice muffled by your hair.

“Neither will I,” you whisper against his neck.

He inhales deeply and tears himself away, gazing down at you sadly. With his thumb, he wipes a tear as it drops down your cheek, and presses his lips to yours in one last kiss, tasting the saltiness of your heartbreak. “I’ll see you around, Baby,” he says against your lips, forehead resting against yours. But he can’t linger - it would only make this impossible moment even harder.

Your vision is too blurry for you to see properly as he walks to the other side of the car and disappears in the driver’s seat. In a matter of seconds, his car becomes a fuzzy black dot in the distance, and you’ve no choice but to walk back to the place that made you discover love only to rip it from your hands.

-

The three days until the talent show feel like eternity. Counting down the minutes until you leave doesn’t make time go by any faster, but you don’t feel like doing anything else. You hang out with Chaewon and Jake and their friends when they’re free, going back with them to the staff main quarters one night, and even though the music is the same as the first time, Sunghoon’s absence changes everything. You can’t dance without imagining his hands on your waist and his voice guiding you through the steps. 

Seeun is also a lot nicer to you. She tells you what happened with Heeseung, and it’s like your shared love troubles bring you closer, reminding you that you’re not so different after all. As you get ready to go watch the talent show, she sits next to you on the bed, offering to do your hair. But then she takes a strand of it in her hands, trailing her fingers through it, and looks at you with a soft smile. “You know what, I think it looks perfect just like that.” 

You mirror her smile and drop your head to her shoulder. You stay like this for a few seconds, words unnecessary to understand each other. “You’ll do great tonight, Seeun. I can’t wait to watch you.”

“I know,” she replies, making you both giggle. “Now let’s go, it’ll start soon.”

You’re not surprised to see that your parents have chosen to seat you in a corner, trapped between a wall and your father. Practically the same thing, you think, but you’re wise enough to keep the comment to yourself. 

The performers have gathered in a line on the stage, your sister included, to sing the resort’s last day song as a conclusion to the show now that Sunghoon isn’t here to do the final dance. Max even gets his own solo. The song goes on for far too long to your taste, so you take the time to look around the room.

The lights are dim, save for the ones on the stage so that the focus of the audience stays on the performers, and wall fixtures next to the exits so they can be found easily. Chairs have been brought to the center of the room right in front of the stage while tables line the walls, candles adorning each one. Staff don’t get seats - instead, they stand at the back of the room, their backs against the wall as they watch the stage with boredom written all over their faces. You catch Jake’s eyes and he winks at you, a mischievous smile on his face, and you chalk it up to his usual playfulness.

Heeseung walks near your table, and your father stands up, calling out to him. He gets something that looks like an envelope out of his pocket, handing it to him. “Good luck in medical school, son.” Heeseung takes the envelope, looking down at it with a smile, and your father rests a hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you so much, Doc,” Heeseung beams. “And I also wanted to thank you for your help with the Chaewon situation, I guess we’ve all gotten into messes like these, huh?” Your father stands with his back to you, so you can only imagine the way his smile falls and his eyes harden.

“What?”

Heeseung’s smile falters slightly and he chuckles awkwardly. “I-I thought Baby told you… Look, it’s what Chaewon said, but I’m not sure, you never know with girls like that, they could pin it on anyone-”

Your father snatches the envelope back from Heeseung’s hands, glaring at him, and walks back to his seat next to you without a word. It’s only now that you understand your father’s dislike of Sunghoon - he had been certain Sunghoon was the one who had gotten Chaewon into such trouble. How could you have missed that? All this time, you thought it was just because Sunghoon was part of the staff and didn’t come from your world. Regret and frustration bubble up in your stomach. So many misunderstandings could’ve been avoided if only you had known what your father thought.

It’s only after a few minutes that he breaks the silence. “I’m sorry, Baby.”

You take a deep breath in. “Thank you, but I’m not the one you need to apologize to, Daddy.”

He turns his head to look at you. “You’re right. You’re right,” he sighs.

Just then, Jake walks past your table and towards the stage, disappearing behind the curtains on the side. You lift your head, trying to see what he’s up to, but the sound of the doors at the back of the room opening and closing loudly catches your attention. It seems to catch everybody’s attention - you hear small gasps and small murmurs of a familiar name, and your mind directly lands on the possibility, but you don’t believe it until you see it standing right in front of you, a hand reaching out to you - Sunghoon’s here.

“Nobody puts Baby in a corner.”

You take his hand and let him guide you away from the table. You’re so enchanted by seeing him again that you barely notice your mother having to keep your father from stopping you. Together, you climb up the small set of stairs, walking past the performers and standing in the middle of the stage, the music stopping abruptly. His voice booms throughout the room when he speaks.

“Sorry for the disruption folks, but I always do the last dance of the season. This year, I was told not to. So I’m gonna do my kind of dancing with a great partner. Not only is she an amazing dancer, but she also taught me that people will stand for other people no matter what it costs them, and about the kind of person I want to be myself. Miss Y/N Y/L/N, everyone.” 

Whoops emerge from the back of the room where the staff are standing and you watch as Sunghoon walks to the side of the stage, discarding his leather jacket and exchanging a nod with Jake. The music starts to play - it’s a song you’ve heard before, a song you know well because you’ve danced to it many times with Sunghoon. It’s a song you love. 

He walks towards you, a smirk on his face, eyes heavy with desire. He places his hands on your waist, your own coming up to his forearm, and dips you backwards in a circle, which elicits more cheers from the dancers. He then stands behind you, imitating the starting position of the dance for your performance at the Sheldrake. The music picks up, and after that, it’s like magic. You and Sunghoon know exactly what to do, a mix of the choreography he’d taught you and of other moves you had picked up when you just danced together for fun. All the steps and turns come to you as if you know this dance by heart, and the whole time, you’re looking into each other’s eyes as they shine with happiness.

Sunghoon makes you spin away from him, and, your arm extended between you two, brings your hand up to his lips and places a delicate kiss to the back of it. Then, he jumps off the stage, prompting gasps and cheers from all around the room, and makes his way while dancing to the back of the room, where the dancers join him. Seconds before the second chorus is about to start, some of them run to you and help you off the stage, and Sunghoon nods at you from the middle of the room. So you run to him, gathering momentum until you reach him and he picks you up, lifting you from the ground up into the air, and you manage to keep your bird-like position for a few seconds. A huge smile breaks on your face as everybody cheers, your mother and sister clapping excitedly and even your father looking at you, astonished, proud. 

Sunghoon brings you back down slowly, grinning as he gazes at you with only love in his eyes. “I knew you could do it,” he whispers.

The staff starts to invite the guests to dance with them, pushing chairs to the side and getting people to stand up. Jake shows Seeun how to move, reminiscent of the way Sunghoon had done with you, your mother and Jay dance together, and the whole room turns into a dancefloor where couples and small groups can let go and move however they want to. 

You and Sunghoon head to the exit to find a quieter place, but your father calls out to you before you can slip away. “I found out you weren’t the one to get Chaewon in trouble.” Sunghoon simply nods. “I was wrong. I apologize,” he says solemnly, and the corners of Sunghoon’s lips tug slightly upwards.

“Thank you, Doctor Y/L/N.”

Your father’s eyes drift to you, and his polite expression turns affectionate. “You looked great up there, Baby.” You sigh, relief washing over your whole body and alleviating the weight on your heart. You let go of Sunghoon’s hands to wrap your arms around your father’s neck, and he takes you in a brief but tight hug.

“I’ll let you two go now. I need to find your mother, haven’t danced with her in ages. That’s something else I can thank you for,” he says, smiling down at you.

You watch him walk away for a few seconds until Sunghoon takes your hand in his again, and you slip out the doors to the front lawn. Outside, you close your eyes and take a deep breath of fresh air in, laughing for no reason other than simple joy when your eyes meet his.

He leads you to the gazebo and brings his hands to your waist again. The song is nearing its end but you can still hear it drifting through the open doors and windows of the room. You know that even when it’s over, it’ll keep playing in your head - and in your heart.

Just like you’ll always keep Sunghoon there.

You move slowly to the rhythm of the last chorus, gazing into each other’s eyes. You want to enjoy this moment for what it is, but the fact that you’re leaving tomorrow won’t leave your thoughts. This might very well be the last time you and Sunghoon ever dance together, or ever see each other. You can give each other your address and send letters, or exchange home phone numbers and call, but how long will that last? You’ll go to college while he goes home and starts working with his father again, or finds a way to fulfill his dream.

He probably sees the sadness in your eyes and brings you closer to him. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to - you know the same thoughts are cramping his mind. Words are unnecessary, and promises are futile, so for now, you forget everything else, and focus on the sway of your bodies and on his hands holding you tight against him.

Resting the side of your head on his shoulder, you look up at the night sky. The stars are shining bright, unbothered by any clouds, and the full moon gazes down at you protectively. Even when you’re apart, you and Sunghoon will still sleep under the same moon every night. You may be just one of the many love stories she’s witnessed, but you dare to think that yours is a special one, one that can’t be reproduced, one that is uniquely yours.

You continue to dance even when the song is over, letting your bodies bask in the moonlight.

fic taglist: @jaetaimjadore @sleepingsag permanent taglist: @ozymandia-s @bbujiikseu @sunghoonmybeloved @lalalalawon @sd211 © asahicore on tumblr, 2023. please do not plagiarize, repost or translate my works. feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

#sunghoon smut #enhypen smut #sunghoon angst #enhypen angst #sunghoon fluff #enhypen fluff #sunghoon x reader #enhypen x reader #sunghoon fanfiction #enhypen fanfiction #sunghoon au #enhypen au

[celaenaeiln]

12 am anon back at it again. my friend called me at 2 am, tipsy on i wanna say wine??? and ranted about how nightwing’s “superpower” is his charisma for like 15 mins . and then they talked about how he looks like he’d have a great spice tolerance before hanging up. i think its a hyperfixation .

I absolutely love it!! You and your friend just have the best conversations ever.

Your ask immediately reminded me of this scene from YJ Season 3

"That's just about everyone. Wasn't sure they'd all respond."

"You command more respect than you realize."

"I'm starting to get that."

Literally this boy has charisma oozing out of his pores. It absolutely is his superpower!

Charisma is known as "a personal magic of leadership arousing special popular loyalty or enthusiasm for a public figure" or "the quality of being able to attract, charm and influence those around you." And Dick is the living embodiment of it.

It's actually a canon trait of his

The New Teen Titans (1980) Issue #5

Dick has the unique ability to lead people. It's not just about telling others what to do, it's people wanting to follow him, listen to him, and and accepts his commands of their own volition.

In the DC/RWBY comic, the RWBY team crosses over to Gotham with all their problems so they have to work together with Batman, Batgirl, and Nightwing (Ruby REALLY gets along with Dick which for some reason makes so much sense idk why). And the batfamily get superpowers.

And DC-

DC LITERALLY WENT-

DC/RWBY Issue #3

THEY ACTUALLY GAVE HIM THE POWER OF INSPIRATION. THEY SAID "if anyone has the ability to lead people to a better life, give them light and hope, and be everyone's favorite leader and savior, then there is only one person to which we can attribute this power to."

Inspiration is the factor that leads people to moving mountains, becoming greater, and changing our entire lives and everyone else and Dick is the one who bestows that power.

He literally inspires people to be better and inspires them to follow him and became the greatest they can be.

Teen Titans (2003) Issue #33

He just has the ability to inspire people to reach greater heights. The younger generation, his own, and the older ones kind of hero worship him.

Charisma is a dangerous power to have. It's essentially the unique ability to convince people to want to do things for you.

Examples of charismatic leaders are Martin Luther King Jr, Joan of Arc, Fidel Castro, and Napolean.

These people moved nations, worlds, societies but they are only one person. And Dick, has the ability to do this too.

To describe him as a person, to describe his charismatic authority, you need to combine all those figures into one person. And that's the equivalent of his power.

Because in the comics when he wants something - the whole superhero society answers.

The Titans (1999) Issue #39

On a separate note, Dick does have a high spice tolerance!

Batman and Robin (2009) Issue #1

Also Romani food is made hot and spicy, commonly using chili, paprika, and red and black pepper. So he can definitely handle the heat.

Lol I'm just imagining Dick absent-mindedly chewing on a red chili pepper while he watches Garth dare Wally to eat a ghost pepper while Donna's rolling her eyes and Roy's hyperventilating on the floor because he's having flashbacks to Ollie's Chilli.

#dick grayson #nightwing #bruce wayne #batman #konner kent #super boy #fun fact: GA's Chili is so spicy that Supes has to use his freeze breath. Batman and GA are the only two people in all of DC who can eat it #cl anon asks #thanks for the ask!

[raayllum]

Mirrored Paths Trilogy #2: In the Name of Love, I Would Do Anything For You —Callum & Viren

Part 2 of a mini meta trilogy dissecting Callum, Karim, and Viren's parallels, with a special emphasis on S5. For the general overview, and if you want to read Karim and Viren's parallels, you can read that analysis here. It is useful to read but not necessary in order to understand this one, as this meta is Part 2 and will discuss Callum and Viren.

Now, I've talked a lot about Viren and Callum. Like, a Lot a lot. Therefore, I'm not going to repeat too much of their Arc 1 buildup here, and focus more loosely on their S5 parallels in particular. However:

If you're interested in their pre-season 4 buildup, check out these metas: How Callum and Viren have parallel arcs in S2, Relics, Rage, and Magic: The Callum-Viren Foils Meta, the foils screencap compilation post I've been cultivating since Nov 2019 pre S3 (updated to include past that point)

If you're interested in post-S4 thoughts, check out these metas: The Interlocking of the Cycle’s Wheel with Viren, Claudia, Callum, and Rayla, How Viren and Callum stack up flaws wise, I sure do love foils that switch, How Callum's morality differs from Ezran and Rayla's (and always has)

If you're interested in post-S5 thoughts, check out these metas: What did Viren and what does Callum want?, How Callum and Viren sacrifice (written post-S4 but updated with S5 screencaps), Why ramp up the foiling?

Now I'm not gonna expect you to read all that because 1) I'm aware I have a problem, 2) it'd be time consuming as hell, and 3) I'm going to summarize the most important takeaways for you to understand the foundation this next section of meta is built on. (None of it is complicated, mind you, but just to make it clear where I'm coming from.) If you have read all those metas, or even made it this far on this one, thank you for enabling me reading and I hope you('ve) enjoy(ed).

Now for the key takeaways:

S5 went basically exactly where I've thought Callum would go since S1/S2 and Viren since S3 re: Viren giving up dark magic and having an atonement arc/breaking away from Aaravos, whereas Callum — in order to free and save someone he loves, specifically Rayla — chooses to chain himself further to Aaravos

Although still very different, Callum and Viren are worryingly, exceedingly similar in many ways, largely in their agreement that dark magic can be a useful last resort and in their devotion to their loved ones (aka "in the name of love" + the "I would do anything [for my family/loved ones]" parallel

Where Viren is willing to put certain things (the kingdom, his own quest for power, humanity) above his family (and wrongfully so), Callum is not. He says he would do anything, and means it (thank you post-s2 me, you were the realest bitch)

Rayla and Aaravos are foils, particularly in their dynamics with Callum and Viren respectively. They are both banished, exiled elves who were seen as being/are too sympathetic towards humans, they mentor high mages of Katolis, hunt each other's high mages, and S6 will put Rayla and Aaravos vying for Callum's destiny (control) to the test as his two paths (although choosing Rayla over Aaravos may not be mutually exclusive, but that's another post). Rayla killing Viren unintentionally put him on a path to stray from Aaravos, whereas Callum saving her / their relationship is what has consistently putting him on a path towards Aaravos

Now, S2 and S4 definitely have more parallels between them structurally for our two high mages. S2 is linked above, so I'll focus on S4: asking to die but being refused by Claudia and Rayla respectively; being reunited with someone they love after two years; Callum attempting to shut down his feelings in Rayla's absence / upon her return much the way Viren did in his time as high mage; the mirror and general framing, particularly in 4x01; sharing a (re-)birthday; their impatience in 4x02, which is also a parallel with Karim; the pawn intros; Rayla interrupting Callum's investigation of the mirror while Viren likewise attempts to diverge paths; picking up what they'd been refusing to all season in 4x09 within seconds of each other, and similar framing to boot, since dark magic led to Viren's destruction, and Rayla will possibly (unintentionally) lead to Callum's:

Let's get into it: S5

Now, S5 is less obvious in some ways. The one big framing parallel they get, beat for beat, is Callum going to investigate Aaravos in the library, placing his book on the same table, being interrupted by the librarian (which is honestly more of a running gag than something tangible), the script being magically washed away, etc.

Therefore, with all of the above out of the way, we have three main things to consider:

1) Their dark magic dreams from 2x06 and 5x03 respectively, in which they face mirrored reflections of each other

I wrote after S2 that I thought Callum refusing his dark counterpart in 2x08 was ultimately going to end up being more about actively being a dark mage than doing dark magic ever again, mostly because — while we didn't know if the show would ever put him in said position — I always figured Callum would do dark magic again in well, about the exact circumstances canon forced him into in 5x08. (And it was extremely satisfying, lemme tell you.) Viren giving up dark magic was more surprising, but they've always been switching foils, so the exchange makes perfect sense on that level.

I talked really briefly about some of the similarities between their dreams, but I wanted to touch on some here as well:

Their choices are both framed around objects of Aaravos. For Callum, it's a key he initially rejects. For Viren, it's the mirror, but instead of connecting to and looking to Aaravos to help him, he looks to and accepts himself.

Viren has to reach forward and connect with himself, whereas Callum pulls away from his mirror self

Viren's dreams are about dismantling his justifications (or the why) behind what he did, whereas Callum's skip over his justifications and instead focus on what he did. Both of these accordingly inform their identity

Viren is saved from literal drowning upon waking up, Callum is saved from a more metaphorical kind

Freedom is the cornerstone of both reflective scenes. Viren and Callum both leave their initial dreams being free (or freer than before). While this holds true for Viren until the current end of his arc (5x09), Callum in 5x08 is handed a sharp reminder that freedom is no guarantee, and how that may continue

The path metaphor that was running loosely throughout their arcs ("I am offering you a path forward [with dark magic] / Callum's tendency towards shortcuts / "I'm afraid, Rayla. What if I'm on a path of darkness?") is now being brought to the forefront here through Viren both being made actively aware of his choices per path ("Because I have followed a dark path") and him deciding to get off of it in 5x09.

2) Both being driven to desperation and resolve to try and save someone they love (Claudia, Rayla)

I figured that, per Viren getting an atonement arc at all, that what would make the most sense is S5 forcing Viren and Callum to confront their moral horizon lines about what they were, or were not willing to do, in order to save Claudia and Rayla pre-S5. For the S4 reasoning behind that, I'll recommend one of the metas linked above regarding those four and the Interlocking of the Cycle's Wheel. I was very pleased to see a decent chunk of it come to fruition. I figured Callum would be able to save Rayla at a steep cost, and Viren would be unable to successfully save Claudia (cause consequences have to catch up to you sooner rather than later, and they tend to catch Viren first and Callum second).

This is, of course, perhaps most exemplified by the show chipping away to the core of dark magic, which is what are you willing to do to save the people you love, even against their will, and that Callum has every good reason to be worried, accordingly, about a very exploitable part of himself.

Which we'll talk about more when we get to:

3) Viren revoking dark magic and Aaravos, whereas Callum does dark magic again and worries he's further tethered himself to Aaravos

In season 5 in a lot of ways, Viren comes to fully understand and accept Harrow's rebuttal to dark magic in 1x02, which was, "We may not pay now, but we will pay the blood price eventually! What do you think got us here? Dark magic!" The blood price went from Sarai's unintentional death, to Thunder's purposeful one, to Zym's false one, to Harrow's 'real' (?) one, and so and so forth.

Viren tried to ignore the sunk cost fallacy by believing it was already too late to turn everything around, and that doubling down to skirt consequences would continually work... until it didn't, and he had to accept the only person writing his fate was himself: "Every step forward is a choice," and thereby another chance to do the right thing, or make better choices, under the circumstances you have — to at least try.

This parallel, then, between Viren doing what he can to set himself free vs Callum chaining himself further to Aaravos is, in a lot of ways, both the most dreadful and happiest potential parallel and contrast between on a few different levels. Let me explain:

S6 as the Fall, S7 as the Rise

I talked about this pre-S5, citing it as a reason I believed Viren and Callum were ultimately switching rather than solely contrasting foils — re: Viren getting better in S5, and Callum getting worse in S5/S6 — simply due to the fact that given that S6 will be TDP's 11th hour, things might be going okay for the antagonist crowd, but the protagonist side of things, particularly Callum, will need to be hitting rock bottom.

Thus, it seemed pretty obvious from a structural standpoint, as well as Stars (and destiny by extension) having an association with Aaravos that S6 would involve Callum playing his part in Aaravos' plans, with S7 being the reclamation of his agency and therefore defeat of his narrative Rival for well, narrative control. S6 being Callum's fall, S7 being his rise — stronger than before, and freer and more magically in tune than ever.

Prior to S5, it was typically accepted (by myself included) that while purposefully very similar to one another in both framing and personality, that mirroring would eventually shed, and, come S7 Viren would ultimately provide a contrast to Callum, with Callum breaking away from Aaravos in ways Viren was never able to, and this would be the Big Defining Difference between them in terms of like, narrative cohesion and plot. (Emotionally, the biggest difference has always, arguably, been that Viren is more world focused — to his detriment in arc 1 in particular — than focused on his loved ones, whereas Callum is deeply and sometimes dangerously devoted to the people he loves.)

However, S5 makes that previous contrast prediction untrue, because Viren does break away from Aaravos (in fact, just an episode decidedly before Callum seems — metaphorically at least — to take a step towards him). Therefore rather than just being a contrast, Viren is meant to be a true mirror in equal measure, simply because by virtue of letting Viren break away from Aaravos' control, when Callum eventually does so, he will likewise — once again — be following in Viren's footsteps, just in a positive way rather than a 'negative' way like before. If Viren was meant to solely be a contrast — as has been theorized previously — than Callum staying under Aaravos' control would actually be the provided ending. Of course the show isn't doing that for Very Obvious Reasons, but I think it's worth noting that now, in order for Callum to have a happy ending at all, he has to follow in Viren's footsteps — all of them. Rather than being one of solely warning and foreboding, Viren's narrative has turned into one of hope for Callum, too.

V: I am free, and so are you.

But in order to talk about salvation, we have to first talk about destruction, namely:

Dark Magic and Death

Dark magic and death have long been associated with each other in series. Dark magic requires killing or consuming a magical creature — elf, dragon, or otherwise — to be used/harvested for power. It affects the souls of those being used as spell parts (Through the Moon) and you can use any part of the body within reason, even their ashes upon cremation (1x03, 2x09), or their final breath (against their wishes in 3x06). Hell, dark magic makes you smell like death (3x01), turns you into a more corpselike appearance, and season two novelization just furthers this association outright during the passages of Callum's dark magic visions/dream:

Callum turned the cube frantically to see which primal was glowing. How could any of the primals glow in this dark place? Something about this cube tied his stomach in knots. It wasn’t natural. A vision flickered in front of his face. Dozens of dead animals in a field. A dead butterfly. A dead deer. A dead unicorn. Cackling laughter. He chucked the cube away from him with all his might. The glowing rune was dark magic. It represented death.

Thereby in 2x08 itself, the rejection dark magic symbolized by the cube is pretty simple. Callum rejects being a dark mage as his primary magic use, he rejects the 'easier' road, he still believes he can possibly access primal magic, and in doing so, he rejects death. He won't become a dark mage, he won't seek out his death or others in order to have control/power, and he won't become a corpselike figure.

But a couple seasons later, we see S4 and S5 reverse and complicate that in 1) having him, literally, seek his own and Aaravos' deaths in order to feel in control/have power, and therefore 2) perfectly foreshadowing his eventual dark magic use/relapse, for lack of a better word. Just as the show leans farther away from "dark magic is easy" (and it is, in some ways, emotionally easier to deal with consequences when you can change them) and more into "dark magic will destroy you — your identity and your body — if you keep using it".

S5, likewise, also starts to break down the negative associations of dark magic being linked to death, and indeed the negative associations with death itself. For most characters in the series, death is solely a tragedy, but for Harrow and Viren of themselves, staring their own deaths in the face — and choosing to die — instead became a vehicle for repentance, change, and subsequent self-actualization.

Death, for Harrow, and more importantly for the sake of this meta, is not just doom and gloom, but a choice and therefore a culmination as well as a chance for transformation. Just as Viren's death in 3x09 allowed him to be re-born with clear eyes (a literal Re-Birthday, if you will), him choosing this next death shows the full scope of his character arc. Previously, he died because he was chasing all the things he didn't have with Aaravos' aid, and by 5x09, he's rejecting Aaravos' help and dying alone in the woods with nothing, yet it feels like a tragic sort of victory all the same.

We also see a more complicated view of dark magic alongside ideas of self-actualization. Previously, dark magic was seen as something that would make you routinely lose yourself (Viren, Claudia) until you had by and large become the worst version of yourself. S5 complicates this a bit more by connecting Callum doing dark magic to his ability to access the Ocean arcanum, as he remembers/mimics the motion of crushing the slug before connection (and parallels Viren's 5x03 hand symbolism to boot):

Whereas Viren unmakes his choice to take on Aaravos' deal in 2x07, Callum unmakes his choice to refuse to do dark magic when it means saving his loved ones. As he states:

To love is simply to know this: the tides are true as the ocean is deep... You don't control anything. But you already knew that, didn't you? Because it's the secret of the Ocean itself. The arcanum. The Ocean arcanum is about accepting depths you can't see, parts of yourself you can't understand, and things you can't control.

Callum fears not having control, and therefore fears his part of himself, where he is now more aware than ever of just how far he'll go for his loved ones, and how exploitable that is, thanks to Finnegrin. And it's not as though dark magic has lost its death associations, merely that those death associations have likewise been transformed. This is particularly evident if you line up 5x08 as the end of Callum's S5 arc (which it is; while 5x09 is fun, it doesn't further any of the main trio's emotional arcs except Rayla, and even that is decently minor)

If dark magic is still linked to death, then both Viren and Callum choose to step towards their own deaths in the end of their respective arcs, just with different meanings and arc placements. If we take Viren's step further that real death vs dark magic death are two different things, then we still have Callum stepping towards his own dark magic death to prevent someone else's (the same way Rayla is spared) even if that means throwing potentially 3+ innocent people and Domina Profundis under the bus in 5x08. But more on that here.

For now, let me break it down more simply:

In 4x09, Callum and Viren both pick up the symbol of something they've been trying to ignore / pass off to others all season. Viren has avoided his staff and left it for Claudia to wield, much the same way Callum passed Rayla off to Ezran and Soren in the previous episodes. Viren refuses to leave the staff behind. Meanwhile, Callum picks up and finally starts fully acknowledging the loss and love he feels regarding Rayla, who he let go on without him. The staff is symbolic of Viren's relationship to Aaravos as well, and it's what ultimately dooms him. Rayla's sword, although quickly discarded so he can help the actual Moonshadow elf, is also a symbol to Callum in the scene that he loves/is still mourning his friend/partner.

In 5x08 and 5x09, Callum and Viren are both goaded by a vengeful elf seeking freedom into doing dark magic to create a secure future for each mage. The elf wants to use them as further vessels for their own freedom/revenge scheme. Viren refuses to do dark magic and instead chooses death, reaching self-actualization. He does this mostly motivated by his own regret and love for Claudia. He refuses to sacrifice Sir Sparklepuff to save his own life and breaks away from Aaravos. Callum demonstrates a willingness to sacrifice others in order to save Rayla, in addition to resorting to dark magic in order to save her. He refuses to sacrifice her to save/keep his own soul free from Aaravos' clutches, even if that means possibly walking steadily closer to his own death. Likewise, this allows him to reach a new stage of self-actualization, but at a steep emotional cost.

Where Viren's ending is tragic but victorious, Callum's season ending is victorious but tragic. But like I said earlier, Viren's story in S5 offers plenty of hope to Callum's future storyline, namely exploring how

Love Can Destroy and Save You

Now, anyone who's been following me for a while knows I love a good "this thing can save and destroy you" and that I have been really fucking excited for S4 taking that undercurrent in arc 1 and bringing it up to the forefront, with a big hitch to Rayllum as a sweet lovely, devastating bonus.

“Wow. So they look identical but they might kill you or they might save you,” Callum said. “Exactly. Just like me…” Rayla smiled.

—Book One: Moon novelization + Callum and Rayla being routinely determined to save each other, even if that means immense danger and harm to themselves (Callum's love for her made him leap off the mountain to save her, and his love for her allowed him to grow wings and save both of them).

This has always been a theme in the show and particularly within their dynamic — "Alright, enough almost killing me" in 1x05 with the lightning spell, only for Callum to save Rayla's life with the exact same spell by the episode's end — most prominently brought to the forefront in 4x07 with their whole "I need you to kill me" "I'm afraid I'll hurt people I care about" [cuts right to Rayla] conversation. If you're interested in more Rayllum thoughts on this, I would recommend my original meta on the subject (pre-S4) and my post-S4 followup.

We even see this theme of the same thing — in this case, Callum's love for Rayla and commitment to saving her — play out as a perfect microcosm in 5x08. As previously mentioned, Callum does dark magic again (a failure in his own mind) and unlocks the ocean arcanum (a victory) precisely because of what he was willing to do out of love, both of these things being good and bad. The dark magic use is bad because it makes him more vulnerable to Aaravos and reaffirms how he'll bend morals he otherwise wouldn't and is upset over it, and it's a good action because it lets him save Rayla. Unlocking the Ocean arcanum is a good thing, because it symbolizes a deeper understanding of himself — good ol' self-actualization — and more useful, magical prowess, but it's also a bad thing because he's upset by this realization of himself to the point of not even really being excited by it.

He would do anything for her, he's realized now that love doesn't necessarily always make him stronger, that this is exploitable, and it scares him. It really does.

Because Rayla saves him and destroys him. And in S5, fortunately, Viren's children do the same for him.

Even though saving Soren is what seemed to truly begin Viren's descent in earnest...

the harm his path has inflicted on Claudia is one of his motivations to finally stepping off of it.

Ezran himself acknowledges the way love interplays with the Cycle in the thematic turning point of the arc, and the series in many ways, back in 4x03 — that love is not in opposition to the Cycle, but indeed one of its many cogs, and the choice lies in how we choose to let that love manifest:

I had a speech planned for today. It was about peace and love and hope. But I think I left something out. [...] We all want peace and we all want love. But violence tests us. In a twisted way, it converts us to its cause. Because pain and loss feel so terrible inside, you want to hate. You want to hurt someone else. So what do we do? How can we stop this cycle? [...]  We have to acknowledge the weight of the pain and loss, but open up our eyes and allow ourselves to hope and maybe forgive and love again. We have to give today��s children a chance to inherit a future filled with peace. To give them that, we have to hold pain and love in our hearts at the same time.

If Callum does destroy himself / risk the world for love in S6 (perhaps taking a risk he knows may lead to being possessed, or releasing Aaravos to spare Ezran or Rayla from an immediate death) then love, it seems, is also posed to be what accordingly breaks him out of the possession and brings him back to himself, the same way it allowed Viren to deviate from his previously chosen/enforced path. Reconciling dualities rather than enforcing strict binaries is one of the main things S4 was concerned with, after all ("Just have two cakes!").

All of this, for Callum, ties back into:

His dynamic with Rayla and all its variances (the light to his dark / pain and love / literally freeing himself while metaphorically chaining himself in order to save her / his love for her being his strentth and weakness / "Now you're back. That's kind of good, and it's kind of bad").

His connection to the Key ("I have a feeling that cube thing could help me" to "It's the Key of Aaravos, Callum. No good will come of it!")

Light and dark being both good and bad, and Aaravos heavily representing that trade off ("In darkness, gaze upon a fallen star [...] already tainted by darkness" + the cube flashing a bright glowing white before Aaravos picks him up as a pawn).

The fall (becoming Aaravos' prey / playing into Aaravos' hands) in s6 and a rise in S7 (breaking free by defeating Aaravos)

If dark magic is death, and Aaravos is likewise death / worse than death ("if he takes control of me again, you have to kill me")... death, like for Viren in 3x09, can be Transformation for Callum in 6x09. He just has to 'die' (metaphorically) — to fall, to fail, to succumb to his predecessor's negative footsteps — in order to rise, fly, and follow in his predecessor's positive footsteps while also carving out another new path for himself.

Because Love is salvation just as much as it is destruction, and the story will always hold true to those things.

Other Parallels

Although there aren't as many prominent framing parallels in S5 as there were in S4 — the mirror, on the battlements with Soren, sitting on the Storm Spire, picking up the staff and sword, etc etc — (beyond the hand clasps as symbolic chains my beloved), the most obvious one is from 5x01 in which Callum goes to the library to research Aaravos just like the high mage before him, down to the portrait over the table they place the tome on.

Then there is also framing that furthers the connections they share between Callum-Viren and Claudia-Rayla, diving after someone you're desperate to save (and often from drowning, to boot). Hand outstretched one pictured above, so here's another:

There are also the Aaravos-Magma Titan Callum-Viren parallels that others have pointed out, with Ezran standing in for Sarai:

Given that 4x01 begins and 5x09 ends the arc of Viren's 30 days, and by and large binds S4 and S5 together as 1 arc of sorts (with S6 and S7 being the final arc), it tickles me particularly pink that it opens, in many ways, and then literally closes accordingly with Callum and Viren staring at the moon:

Misc:

In between writing the first meta and the second one, I got loose 'confirmation' that I'm on the right path with my deductions (even if, of course, 'personal path' can mean many things, but I still think it's cool!) from Aaron Ehasz on twitter. Cool beans

I also think it's fun that Viren tries to save Claudia from a 'symbolic' death in the ocean ("Stop! That wave, it will swallow you up!") and Callum saves Rayla from a more literal one of being devoured by a sea leviathan.

Conclusion

First off, if you read All of That, thank you and I hope you enjoyed it. I've been itching to talk about these two and how S5 both built on the parallels they already had, pushed some to the forefront in overt ways ("I would do anything" and 5x08 on Callum's end was beyond validating in every way), in addition to setting up more to come, both good and bad.

I may return to S5 in this manner to touch more on other parallel relationships in the future, such as Viren-Rayla in S5, Callum-Claudia, and Claudia-Rayla, but for now the next proposed foil meta is looking at a dynamic I have not talked much about in Callum and Karim. This will conclude this little 'trilogy' of metas, and I hope you stick around for it, cause it's going to be very interesting.

Callum and Viren have always been my favourite foils relationship in the show, and I hope this meta did a good job of demonstrating why. Thank you for reading and I'll see you in the next one!

—Dragons out

#it was just red #tdp callum #tdp meta #tdp viren #callum #viren #tdp #the dragon prince #analysis series #personal fave #analysis #this was my christmas present to myself #s5 #arc 2 #parallels #snake boi callum #adjacently #cause somehow that's boiled down to 'i actually Do think viren and callum have important Parallels with one another' #a lil bit of a magnum opus if i do say so myself #at least for now

[azrielslightintheshadows]

Shadows and tears

So this is a series about Azriel and reader. English is not my first language so please excuse any mistakes. I hope you like it!

Summary: Reader is a tortured soul who barely escaped the brutality of the Illyrian camps finding shelter in the Day Court. Her identity was well hidden until she caught the attention of the Night Court’s Shadowsinger. Will the mating bond be enough for their love to settle in?

Warnings: angst, mentions of abuse and trauma

You don't need a tissue box.....yet

Masterlist

Prologue , Chapter 1, Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10

Chapter 2

You are not mine and I don’t want you to be

Days had gone by and now here you were locked in your room. When you arrived in the house of wind Rhysand showed you your room and since then you stayed inside, no one tried to get you out of your safe place, and you knew you had to thank Rhysand for that. You didn’t want to face them yet, you needed time to get your thoughts in order, also the fact that the house was enchanted and brought you everything you needed was very convenient. Today you woke up ready to face the new reality but as you got ready for the day you were slowly losing your nerve. You turned to look yourself in the mirror, wearing the Illyrian leathers Nesta sent you with a note to braid your hair and thought the sooner I learn to control my shadows the sooner I will be back to the day court. Helion had hurt you by handing you over to Rhysand like that, but you knew he only did it because he cared for you. The inner circle was really thoughtful of you, no one tried to get you to leave your room, but they all sent you things they thought you needed.  Nesta sent you also a handful of novels, Feyre some oils for your baths, Mor new clothes, Amren some books about how to control your powers and Cassian some daggers for practice. Rhysand and Azriel nothing except some light caresses in your mind from Rhysand to remind you that he was waiting for you and some of Azriel’s shadows who would creep into your window to check on you. You couldn’t understand your own shadows, every time Azriel’s made an appearance yours would try to become one with them. With a sigh you opened the door and walked to the dining room seeing everyone at the table eating their breakfast. They all stopped eating and lifted their heads to look at you “good morning” you said and took a seat next to the shadow singer who was looking at you with a lifted brow. After everyone said their good morning you all started eating again. Azriel broke the silence “ready for training?” his gaze was cold, but you could see some hope flicker inside those hazel eyes. You nodded, gulped down the rest of your juice and got up following Azriel to the roof. He was wearing black t-shirt and grey sweatpants that would make you drool with the way they show his muscles if you weren’t still a little wary of the shadow singer.

“Okay so tell me how you feel your shadows” he said staring at your shadows who were trying to push his away.

“I don’t know they are like an extension of me sometimes, I think I can control them but most of the time they are like my hair, I can feel them and touch them, but I cannot control them.” You say looking at them swirling around you.

“You need to realize that your shadows have a personality of their own. Controlling them will not be that easy, I mean yeah sure you can’t control your hair, but they move with the wind or because of some moves you make, your shadows move on their own because they want to, that’s the difference. The key to control them is to understand them, become one with them and use them only in the way that makes them comfortable… after all you need them to be on your side and that means that you must respect them.” He explained and you stared at him seeing the exact opposite of what you have heard. The rumours around him describe a heartless monster who tortures people for his high lord, a dangerous darkness, you even have heard them call him God of death. How could the same man care for creatures such as shadows? Talk about respect and comfort? You were staring at him deep in thought.

“What’s wrong? Did I say something that bothered you?” he took a step back.

“No no it’s okay just thinking everything you said” you replied.

“Alright, let’s see what they want to do, stop pulling them” he said and took another step back to observe.

You took a big breath and your shadows darted towards him his own standing on guard ready to attack like hissing snakes and then he pulled them back staying defenceless while your shadows were an inch away. You took another big breath waiting for them to attack him, but they only started swirling around him like they were studying him, you even saw one caressing his cheek earning a chuckle from him. You stood there frozen a blush creeping on your face.

“They want to explore” Azriel said lifting his hand and letting one swirl around it. You noticed the scars everyone was talking about, the scars weren’t disgusting like most of them said they were telling a story you were sure of that. He caught you staring at his arms and quickly hid them behind his back. You wanted to scream no, to tell him that they didn’t bother you, but you kept your mouth shut not wanting to make the scene more uncomfortable.

After training for a few hours, you felt like your head was on fire, trying to get to know your shadows, please them but also control them was very tiring.

“I think that’s enough for today, Cassian needs the place to train the Valkyries he wasn’t very happy about pushing their training later, tomorrow we can go somewhere else if you’re okay with that.” Azriel said pushing back a lock of hair that had fallen in his face from the wind. He looked almost angelic with the sun shining all over his sharp features and his hair messy because of the wind, you could stare at him all day.

“Yeah sure, maybe you can show me Velaris if you don’t have work to do later” you replied offering him a smile.

“I’m sorry, I’m busy today… maybe tomorrow?” he asked with a smile that shocked you. You had never seen him smile and oh Mother he was absolutely stunning.

“Oh okay tomorrow then.” You said and started walking towards your room passing a girl on your way who run outside “ There you are Azzie I was hoping we could spend our evening together” she said in a chirpy voice, and you could swear you heard his smile when he replied;

“Sure sweetheart”

But…wasn’t he busy? Sweetheart? You felt an ache in your chest, but you couldn’t understand why, he wasn’t yours and you didn’t want him to be.

#acotar #acotar series #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #feyre archeron #rhysand #azriel fanfic

[dat-bruv-person]

༉‧₊˚. not your average ayato arranged marriage trope.

a/n: so you know those ayato fics where you guys get in an arranged marriage but you live him and he doesn't live you back? Yeah... this is one of those but MY way. (My way or the highway)

gn!reader, poc!reader friendly <3 reader has a dendro and electro vision.

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

So, the story starts with you. This whole thing started because you wanted more money and power and status, because who doesn't? Now, what sets you apart from the other clans is that you care for your workers and pay them well, so naturally, your reputation is very high in Inazuma. However... money is the reason we exist! Everybody knows it, it's a fact - kiss kiss <3 Now, which other clan in Inazuma has a handsome, rich and highly respected leader? I know! The Yashiro Commission, or the Kamisato Clan. After a few talks, papers were signed and arrangements were made for you guys to be wed.

Ayato was only doing this because a lot of other suitors were on his sister's heels, and he cared too much about her to just let her be thrown away. So, he signed the marriage contract with no feelings for you. We all know why you signed, gold digger, so everything is in place.

The first date was... interesting. You both arrived, looking very attractive, and stood there. Awkwardly. Now, don't get me wrong, you are a wise and powerful person, your dendro vision is very strong when used simultaneously with your electro vision, and Ayato is no doubt a dangerous person with a chilling smile, yet you two just plastered your fake smiles on your faces and kissed each other on the cheek. A long day was ahead, discussing how your clans would be linked, a dinner date, more discussing, brunch, even more discussing, and then going home. It seemed more like a school day rather than an outing. Nevertheless, date 1 was completed.

Date 2: a stroll by the docks, hand in hand. You turned out to be very good at being a fake ass bitch/bastard because even Ayato believed that you were truly in love with him for a second or two. Poor him. His poker face remained, though, never cracking.

Along the way, you two had a little run-in, shall we phrase it that way, and a gang of nobushis were surrounding a small girl. Ayato simply... looked the other way. First of all, how dare he? A small, helpless girl was in danger, and he just decides to... ignore it? Rich people sometimes. You hastily stepped in and wielded your weapon with grace yet brutally slayed the nobushi. Oh, how overjoyed the little girl was that you were there to save her! She clung to you and cried, her parents were dead, they were gone forever! You didn't mind Mr Kamisato telling you that this is unprofessional and you should just leave her so that the Tenryou Commission can take care of her, you decided to take her back home with you.

Despite the interruption, you two carried on your... I don't even know what to call it anymore. You just hated him with your whole heart. How do have the audacity to tell someone not to save a child, call it unprofessional to her face, and side-eye you the entire walk back? Honestly. It's for the money, you told yourself - it's for the money.

3rd date: everything just falls apart. There's you and him throwing passive-aggressive comments at each other, you winning the argument and muttering the slyest little insults known to man at him, and there's Ayaka, who accidentally asked if the little girl was yours and Ayato's. She did have your skin tone, and her face did resemble the latter, having pretty, long, blue hair - anyone could've made that mistake! But, here we are. You: disgusted with the man sitting in front of you, and Ayato: quite displeased with you. There was still hope, you got your benefits, a daughter that isn't actually yours but you loved her nonetheless, and a nice house. Amazing.

Fast-forward to the present; you've been married to Ayato for 2 years now and every day he comes home tired and not wanting to talk to anyone. Fair enough, everyone has their bad days, but this was more than that. He just seemed... bored. Your life with him wasn't your favourite thing about being a part of the Clan, but your daughter - Aarya - and all the extra money you got were keeping you sane. So, you smiled to yourself.

Life was okay.

#ainsley writes #genshin impact x gn reader #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact angst #genshin angst #genshin x black reader #genshin x poc!reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #ayato x gn reader #ayato x gender neutral reader #ayato x reader #ayato kamisato #kamisato ayato #ayato angst #could you tell how much of a silly goofy mood i was in

[chance-lard]

Book!Lucy & Lockwood vs Show!Lucy & Lockwood: A VERY LONG Deep Dive

So I finished the Netflix adaptation of Lockwood & Co.

Overall, I think it was a respectful adaptation, which, despite some plot changes, kept largely to the spirit of the books. At minimum, Joe Cornish actually seems to like L&Co, which is way more than can be said about most adaptations these days. Hooray!

But I wanted to write a bit about one of the bigger changes they made: namely the dynamic between Lucy and Lockwood.

I’ve seen people saying that the Locklyle adaptation to screen was very true to the books, just without Lucy’s close personal voice, and sped up a little in the romance department (“Stroud doesn’t mention what Lucy was doing with her hands! They could have been on Lockwood’s face in the books!” etc).

Respectfully, I disagree quite a bit with this. While some argument could be made about it having shades of their relationship from THB/TCS onwards, I actually think Show!Lucy’s attitude towards Lockwood is a 180 from the way she views him in TSS and TWS.

IDK, this might be a bit of a controversial opinion judging by what I’ve been seeing in the L&Co tag and general ways people have interpreted TSS and TWS in the years since their publication, but I’m going to try to back my argument as best as I can, focusing only on those books.

I’m using the original paperback UK editions of both the Screaming Staircase (2013) and The Whispering Skull (2014).

Spoilers for the show and VERY mild spoilers for books 3+ (literally just the name of a new character/type of ghost + stuff already shown in the show that wasn’t shown until later in the books)

Another warning: this analysis is 5500(!!!) words long, and mostly quotes from the book. If you’d like to just read the main bits, look at the intro/conclusion to each section and read the TLDR; at the end.

PART 1: THE NETFLIX SHOW

Before diving into differences, there are things I do think stayed the same between the show and the books:

Lucy and Lockwood banter, swap one-liners and occasionally squabble.

Lucy remains unimpressed with some of Lockwood’s more slapdash schemes.

During missions, they work equally and trust each other with their lives and the job.

They care about each other’s wellbeing.

Basically, when things are going well between them, or when they are in high-stakes circumstances and need to cooperate, there isn’t too much of a difference between Show!Locklyle and Book!Locklyle.

But as Tolstoy (lmao) says, all happy families agents are alike, all unhappy families agents are unique in their own way. With that said, I think the differences between Show!Locklyle and Book!Locklyle are best explored through the way conflicts are handled.

In the show, there are 5 major arguments between Lucy and Lockwood:

Episode 2: Lucy feels upset and hurt because she thinks Lockwood only views her as an “asset”.

Episode 4: Lucy is upset that Lockwood doesn’t believe/doesn’t want to admit that she is talented enough to talk to the Skull

Episode 5: Lucy gets mad at Lockwood being self-sacrificing/death-seeking after they escape from the Winkmans.

Episode 7: Lucy calls Lockwood a boy with a “cold dead heart of stone”, and is upset that he won’t let her and George in on his past.

Episode 8: Lucy is furious at Lockwood using dangerous methods at the auction, that “every relic hunter in London is out to kill us”, and that Lockwood is acting self-sacrificially again.

There are also the following minor squabbles:*

Episode 1: Lucy rolls her eyes at Lockwood for forgetting the chains at Mrs Hope’s house.

Episode 1: Lucy mad at Lockwood and George for the toothbrush cup initiation test.

Episode 2: Lockwood gets annoyed and brusque with Lucy for keeping Annabel’s source and trying to communicate with her ghost. After Lucy is nearly possessed, he flintily tells her he will burn the source, and that they have more important bills to pay.

*Note there might be some more minor squabbles, but they weren’t significant enough to make their way into my notes

The most important takeaway here is that Lucy is the one who initiates most of the arguments! We can also note Lockwood’s response to Lucy’s anger: mostly he mutely self-reflects as she shouts and storms away, then later he comes to her to apologise and promises to do better. 

The one time Lockwood gets mad at Lucy (Ep 2) we are a) not shown the bulk of the argument (there’s a cutaway after the fight with the ghost to Lucy justifying herself), b) it’s anger born of worry, and c) Cameron’s delivery of the lines is quite measured and muted.

In essence, when it comes to conflict, Lucy is the one holding the cards in the relationship between the two of them.

We also know the show is set much earlier than the books (which take place over the span of a whole year). Show!Lucy isn’t acting this way out of concern for a Lockwood who she’s known and loved for ages. Rather, Lockwood is someone she is not impressed by at all from the outset. The show is setting up what makes Lucy special here: unlike the adults, the other agents, and maybe even George, she’s the only one who can see through his “prodigious entrepreneur” mythos to the hurting teenager beneath.

Within the logic of the show’s universe this makes sense. Unlike Book!Lucy who is a judgemental grump (and is why she has “no female friends”; TWS p80), Show!Lucy is a more confident girl coming right off the back of losing someone she loves dearly.

Having experienced an arguably greater loss than Book!Lucy at this stage in her life, Show!Lucy seems adamant to prevent anyone else she cares about going down the same path. For Book!Lucy, this is a realisation she only comes to near the end of THB.

So to summarise, in the show, Lucy is a hurting, no-nonsense girl, unimpressed with Lockwood’s antics and objective enough to act as his “chain to earth”. From the way Lockwood responds to Lucy’s upsets, we get the sense that he’s quite sincere and maybe more in touch with his emotions than he shows on the surface.

The show portrays two people gradually learning to trust each other and perhaps slowly, mutually discovering their feelings as they do.

PART 2: BOOK: ACTIONS

The show uses disagreements as watersheds for character development, but they don’t play as significant a role in the books. Still, I went through TSS and TWS and made notes of every time there’s conflict between Lucy and Lockwood because the differences are quite telling.

TSS:

Lucy is mildly irritated/snarky at Lockwood for the entirety of the Hope case in TSS, and is angry when he forgets to bring the chains.

Lucy is angry at Lockwood for talking about the Annabel case and getting her name in the papers (TSS, 231)

Lockwood gets angry and berates Lucy for keeping the Annabel source (TSS, 179-181)

Lockwood calls Lucy “too sensitive” and accuses her of getting too close to ghosts (TSS, 248-249)

Lockwood is furious at Lucy for trying to talk to Annabel again (TSS, 284)

TWS:

Lockwood angry at Lucy for talking about the door on the landing (TWS, 116)

Lucy angry at Lockwood (and George) for taking her Listening for granted (TWS, 258)

Lucy scolds Lockwood for brushing off/slapping down George (TWS, 398)

Purely by numbers, they get mad at each other fairly evenly (rather than it being one-sided from Lucy, a la the show).

But numbers themselves don’t tell a full story. In fact, after looking at the particulars, I was surprised to see just how unbalanced their relationship is in the first 2 books (TSS in particular), and how much Lucy sits under Lockwood’s thumb for the whole thing.

Let’s look:

THE SCREAMING STAIRCASE

The Hope House - Lockwood forgetting to bring the chains.

This is the argument that plays out most similarly to how it does in the books. Lockwood asserts that filings “will be fine” for a job like this. In both mediums Lucy lets him go, but in the show she rolls her eyes and tuts, while in the books she tells herself “now (isn’t) the time”, takes a deep breath and changes the subject. In my opinion, this difference is insignificant.

BUT: in the book, the chains get brought up again. On p39, Lockwood suggests they should leave the house because it’s too dangerous, it is Lucy disagrees and thinks they should stay (as an aside, compare this with Lockwood’s behaviour in the show, particularly when escaping Winkman at the auction!).

Lockwood “condescendingly” tells her that her head isn’t in the right place, and Lucy once again accuses him of making bad decisions by leaving the chains out. Lockwood in turn first blames George (as he does in the show), then goes on to blame Lucy!

How the argument resolves is also interesting. Lockwood smiles at Lucy, and ribs her:

‘How’s your anger management going, Luce?’ (p40).

This effectively defuses Lucy’s rage (she likens his smile to “the sun coming out”).

Only after she’s no longer at the peak of her anger does he admit fault:

“He clapped his gloved hands together briskly. ‘Alright, you win'” (about staying at the house). (p40).

Even in the very first pages, we see Lockwood comporting himself as Lucy’s superior. We get the sense he doesn’t take her anger very seriously. Lucy also doesn’t seem to be able to stay mad at him for long.

Now, I've seen readings of Lockwood smiling in this moment as him being simply unable to stay mad at Lucy. That's definitely one interpretation, but I personally don't agree with it. Lockwood has a patterned habit of using his smile to get out of trouble:

“Lockwood took a deep breath; perhaps he realized he had to explain himself to George and me, as well as to Barnes…(Explanation). He switched on his fullest, most radiant smile.

Barnes winced. ‘Put those teeth away’” (TSS, p426)

And:

“‘Papers that almost certainly don’t exist,’ I growled…I didn’t look at him; if I had, he would have given me the smile, and I wasn’t in the mood for that.” (TWS, p258)

Though as we can see, by TWS Lucy has definitely wised up haha

Lucy’s name in the article

On paper, this argument is similar to the one in the show. The major difference is at no point in the books does Lucy explicitly tell Lockwood to keep her name out of the papers.

In the show, this argument leads to one of its biggest disagreements (Ep 2):

Lucy: I told you to leave me out of it.

Lockwood: And I told you I'd handle it. What are you so worried about? It's all true.

Lucy: We haven't even solved the case yet. What if Hugo Blake sees that and comes after me?

Lockwood: Well, then, we'll look after you, Luce. You're our biggest asset.

Lucy: Asset? Is that all I am, then? Just something to make you money? You think that you do things so differently. But you're just like the rest of them. You're as bad as everyone back home.

In the books, Lucy does not get angry when the article comes out (p217). She only gets upset after she’s pulled in by DEPRAC to see Hugo Blake. When the argument erupts, George is also there and it plays out like this (p232):

Lucy: “Don’t touch me. Because of your article, I came face to face with a murderer tonight, and funnily enough, I didn’t enjoy the experience.” 

Lockwood: “Blake is not going to come after us”.

George: “Or if he does, it’ll be very, very slowly, hobbling on a stick. He’s over seventy years old.”

After Lockwood and George’s further justifications about why Blake is not going to “get them” (p232-233) Lucy thinks:

“What (Lockwood) said made sense, as usual. It was good to be out in the night again, with my sword and my colleagues at my side. The distress of my brief encounter at Scotland Yard was slowly fading. I felt a little better.”

We know from this that Lucy’s anger was one borne from worry and fear of Blake. By successfully alleviating that fear, Lucy’s anger at Lockwood dissipates. At no point is she mad at being treated as a showpony or asset by Lockwood. In fact, going back to when the article comes out (p 217), we’re presented with the following:

Lucy: “I still don’t know why you mentioned me but not the necklace.”

Lockwood: “It doesn’t hurt to emphasise what a star you are. We want other clients to come running, eager for your services.”

He doesn’t use the word “asset” here, but you can easily replace the word “star” with the word “asset" to get the original lines that triggered the argument in the show. To this statement, Book!Lucy has no reaction at all (the topic changes).

[As an aside, Lockwood also obliquely calls Lucy and George “inessential” on p214, which they also don’t comment on. Also, at various points he calls George and Lucy “fishwives” (p 272) and Lucy “sensitive” because she’s a girl (p 353) (lmaooo what an ass).]

Lockwood, Lucy and Annabel

I’m lumping these three arguments together because they follow the same pattern: Lucy tries to talk to Annabel, Lockwood gets upset that she keeps trying. What is absolutely fascinating is just how he treats Lucy when he is upset, and how Lucy responds to his anger in turn.

The first argument begins the morning after the fight. Lockwood says:

“Why, Lucy? I just don’t understand! You know an agent has to report any artefact she finds. Particularly one so intimately connected with a Visitor. They must be properly contained.” (p179)

He continues berating her like this (with a lot more anger than he ever displays on the show).

Lucy tries to apologise:

“Yes. I said I’m sorry! I’ve never done that sort of thing before.” (p180)

But Lockwood is still angry:

“So why did you do it now?”

Lucy spends the next page trying to explain why she took Annabel’s source, but even after her apologies and justifications, Lockwood is still furious:

“You forgot? That’s it? That’s your excuse?” (p 181)

The three of them talk a bit more about the mechanics of how Annabel ended up in the house, then when Lucy is in the middle of talking, Lockwood cuts her off again, and they have this whopper of an exchange:

“I hope you’re not trying to change the subject, Lucy,” Lockwood said in a cold voice. “I’m in the middle of ticking you off here.”

I set the case down. “I know.”

“I’m not finished, either. Not by a long chalk. I’ve got a whole heap more to say.” (Lockwood loses his train of thought here). “The point is: don’t do it again. I’m disappointed in you.”

Lucy meekly takes Lockwood’s lecture:

“I nodded. I stared at the tablecloth. My face felt cold and hot at the same time”

Lockwood’s one-sided lecture of Lucy lasts a whole five pages!!!

But he’s not done. It comes up again on p248 where Lockwood accuses Lucy of being 'too sensitive’ (in both the psychic and emotional way), and of getting “too close to (the ghosts)”. Then, in a 180 from the dynamics of power in the show (remember, Lucy threatens to quit several times), Lockwood threatens to fire her!

“You need to be careful, Lucy,” Lockwood said, and his voice was flat and cold. “Wicked ghosts aren’t things to trifle with. You’re keeping secrets again, and any agent who does that is endangering the rest of us. I’m not having anyone on my team who can’t be trusted. You understand what I’m saying?”

Again, Lucy takes this lecture meekly and submissively:

I did understand. I looked away.

In the final argument about the matter (p284) we learn that Lucy is actually a bit scared of Lockwood.

“You deliberately let her free?” Lockwood said. “That was a stupid thing to do.”

When I looked at his face, my heart quailed. “Not free,” I said desperately. “Just…freer.” (emphasis mine)

On p285 Lucy starts crying/tearing up because she thinks Lockwood:

 “...Would not forgive me…this was the end of my employment at the company”. 

Ordinarily, you might be able to argue that her fears are misplaced and subjective (because of her narrow perspective). This rings a little hollow given Lockwood’s threat on p248.

Does Lockwood ever apologise to Lucy during the Annabel affair? Once, when at his suggestion, Lucy tries to talk to Anabel, and things go awry:

“I’m so sorry. I should have never asked you to do that. What happened? Are you OK?” (p192)

It’s a sign that Lockwood does care about her wellbeing, despite his general distance from Lucy and the way he carries himself, which is as a figure of authority, and more importantly, as Lucy’s employer.

Seriously. We like to joke in this fandom that Lucy is too wrapped up in her own head thinking that Lockwood is out of her league to notice that he actually likes her. But reading the books again with detailed notes, I think Lucy’s impression is actually accurate.

In fact, writing this up sparked a memory of reading TSS for the first time (prior to the release of TWS), I remember thinking there wasn’t going to be a romance between Lucy and Lockwood. I couldn’t articulate it fully at the time, but I imagine it was because of how much older Lockwood seemed and how much control her asserts over her behaviour, combined with the way early book Lucy (to borrow Holly’s words from THB) “can’t say no” to Lockwood.

It is only by the end of TSS, does Lockwood finally say to her:

“I trust your Talent and your judgement and I’m very proud to have you on my team. OK? So stop worrying about the past!” (p436)

It’s still a tad condescending (think: praise from kindergarten teacher) but it’s a momentous occasion because as shown, prior to the Combe Carey Hall case, Lockwood seems to respect and trust her very little. This bookend leads nicely into their growing dynamic in TWS.

THE WHISPERING SKULL

Lucy, Lockwood and the skull in Bickerstaff’s manor:

By The Whispering Skull, Lucy and Lockwood’s relationship has evolved (which would make sense given the 6 months between books 1 and 2) and consequently the way they conflict has too. However, they still don’t ever reach the level of direct conflict they do in the show. Take what I consider to be Lucy’s biggest upset at Lockwood in the first 2 books:

On page 258, Lucy says:

 “Forget it! What happened to us treading carefully, Lockwood? I’ve a good mind to go back home!”

Lockwood begs her to reconsider. Lucy remains angry. She says:

“You’re taking me for granted. Me and this house.”

However, it should be noted that although she mentions Lockwood by name, she’s actually angry at both Lockwood and George (yup, he’s there too). She calls them “both mad” for expecting her to agree to their scheme. She then stalks away from them in a rage, leaving “the others” (not just Lockwood) to follow.

In short, her anger isn’t directed at any particular trait of Lockwood’s (such as recklessness or foolhardiness), but rather at having been duped by both George and him. Nevertheless, it shows that she’s become more comfortable at expressing her anger in general by this point.

Lockwood’s door on the landing

As in the show, after the skull tells Lucy about Lockwood’s door, she confronts him about it.

In the show, after Lucy brings it up, Lockwood responds by diverting the subject:

Lockwood: That is not just a nick. You need to get that looked at. Could be some toxins got into your blood.

Then:

Lockwood: You're not Marissa Fittes.

Lucy: Cause you can't handle being my Tom Rotwell? Second best?

(This response is OOFT and also VERY Show!Lucy imo)

Another difference: in the show, Lockwood clearly believes Lucy, but doesn’t want to admit that she might be talented, because he’s used to being the most powerful one.

In the books, Lockwood just flat-out doesn’t believe her:

Lockwood lowered his mug; he spoke flintily. “Yes, I know (the door). The one you can’t stop asking about.” (p116)

He also calls her a “prima donna” (lmao LOCKWOOD).

Here, again, Lucy responds a bit more huffily than she probably would have in TSS:

We stood there, glaring at each other. (p117)

Lucy defends George

I think this argument, from page 398, though minor, nicely summarises Lockwood’s general attitude in conflict.

“Lockwood, we’ve been so blind! He’s desperate to investigate it. He’s been obsessed with it all this time. And you just kept criticising him, slapping him down.”

Lockwood responds at first by doing what he typically does (justify, accuse):

“Yes of course I did! Because George is always like that!...It’s just how he is! We couldn’t possibly have known.”

But compared to the chains argument in TSS where he deflects until the end, moments later:

His shoulders slumped. “You really think he’s affected by the ghost?”

Perhaps it’s because of the imminent danger George is in, but this time he takes Lucy’s anger seriously. Unlike the chains argument from the beginning of TSS, he doesn’t put on airs or “give permission” to Lucy when he senses he’s in the wrong. This way, they work together to prepare to get George back.

PART 3: BOOKS: THOUGHTS

“Wait,” you say, “Doesn’t this just prove that the show is like the books? Sure, it might have skipped that weird employer/employee stage from TSS, but it at least follows their relationship in TWS well, right?”

To this I say, yes, but also no. We need to take into account the role the arguments play in both mediums.

In the books, since Lucy is a very personal narrator, the arguments are a good way of showing the Locklyle relationship unmarked by her own thoughts. Although Lucy is quite inaccurate at judging what people feel and think (see: Holly), she’s not the kind of unreliable narrator that makes up things people say or do.

In the show, since we don’t get to see Lucy’s internal monologue; the arguments are instead used to show how Lucy feels. To that end, I can understand why they made her more direct/in touch with her emotions during them – if she didn’t say anything, the audience probably wouldn’t know.

SO: to get a full picture of her relationship with Lockwood, we need to examine both her acts AND her internal feelings.

What does Lucy feel in the show?

In the show, although Lucy does like Lockwood, she hates (or at least is troubled by) the following: he’s reckless, he’s (over) confident, he’s arrogant and loves the spotlight. But her two primary issues with his character seem to be:

His death-seeking nature:

“What does any of it mean if we end up stabbed or dead at the bottom of the Thames with nobody left to care?“ / “To be honest, the bottom of the Thames used to be a far more appealing place to be.”(Ep 8)

His distance/mystery:

“You might be able to turn your feelings on and off like a tap, but I am drowning here, Lockwood.” (Ep 2)

“At the centre of you is just a…” “A what? A cold, dead heart of stone?” “Yeah, maybe. But who knows, though? 'Cause you don't actually show anyone.” (Ep 7)

Is this the case in the books?

Nope. Not at all. This is the absolute biggest difference between Show!Locklyle and Book!Locklyle.

Lucy has very little to say about Lockwood’s general recklessness because, well, she is reckless too (this is the case in the show as well – makes her look just a little bit like a hypocrite).

In regards to his death-seeking nature: Lucy doesn’t even pick up on it until the Skull of all people points it out, and that is definitely much further along than in TSS and TWS.

But why doesn’t she see these signs? It ties back to how Lucy feels about Lockwood’s distance/mystery in TSS and TWS which is, well: she loves it.

Show!Lucy can’t stand Lockwood hiding things from her and running off madly towards “any old mystery”, and that’s what makes her a good grounding force for Lockwood there. 

Book!Lucy fully drinks the Lockwood kool-aid and buys into his grand myth.

From the very outset, Lucy immediately likes Lockwood. Unlike Show!Lucy who compares him negatively with the people “back home”, Book!Lucy thinks:

“Lockwood, I already liked. He seemed a world away from the remote and treacherous Agent Jacobs; his zest and personal commitment were clear. Here was someone I felt I could follow, someone perhaps to trust.” (TSS, p 112)

We also get Lucy’s opinion of Lockwood “throwing himself” into missions the very first full day she joins:

“Vigorous and energetic, eager to throw himself into each new mystery; a boy who was clearly never happier than when walking into a haunted room, his hand resting lightly on his sword hilt…It already pleased me to think of walking into darkness with Lockwood at my side.” (TSS, p 127)

She starts buying the “Lockwood narrative” very quickly too. When Lockwood says:

‘This will be one of the three most successful agencies in London…And you can be a part of that, Lucy. I think you’re good, and I’m glad you’re here.’ (TSS 129)

Lucy thinks:

“You can bet my face was flushed right then – it was a special triple-combo of embarrassment at being found out, pleasure at his flattery and excitement at his spoken dreams.” (TSS 129)

We see her continued fall into Lockwood’s all-consuming orbit on the next page:

“For a moment, as he said this, it all made perfect sense…when he smiled like that it was hard not to agree with him.” (p 130)

Contrast this to the show, where instead she cooly responds, “Thank you,” then immediately asks: “How do I know you’re good enough for me?” (Ep 1)

Show!Lucy clearly isn’t buying it from the beginning, and continues to not buy it. We can see the difference after the Hope House case when Lucy is talking to George.

George: “Maybe if you'd been more interested before you went charging.”

Lucy: “That was Lockwood's decision. I've only just started. What am I supposed to say to him?” (Ep 2)

George: “You're meant to say no. You have to, or you'll make him worse.”

George is another character who works well to contextualise Lucy’s behaviour towards Lockwood. In the show, George sees Lucy as someone capable of reigning Lockwood in. Whereas in the books, he sees Lucy as equally at fault for being reckless.

“When is going to be the time? When you and Lockwood are both dead, maybe? When I open the door one night and see the two of you hovering beyond the iron line?...All you and Lockwood care about is going out and snuffing Sources, as quickly as you can! ” (TSS, p 139-140)

Rather than deflect blame onto Lockwood as she does in the show, she says:

“Because that’s what makes our money, George!...If you were less obsessed with it, we’d have done twice as many cases in the last few months…We waited all afternoon for you.” (TSS, p140)

The “makes our money” line sounds a lot like something that would come out of Lockwood’s mouth, and makes me wonder whether she’s parroting something he said at this stage. Conjecture aside, it shows the reader that Lucy is firmly on Lockwood’s side – as established, Lucy “never says no” to Lockwood, and everyone else knows it.

I suspect part of the reason this continues for so long is because Lockwood never is too approving of Lucy, which causes Lucy to scrabble for the rare moments of his approval.

“Moments before, he’d been promising to incinerate the locket. Now it was the key to all our troubles. Moments before, he’d been giving me a rollocking; now I was the apple of his eye. This was the way it was with Lockwood. His shifts were sometimes so sudden that they took your breath away, but his energy and enthusiasm were always impossible to resist.” (TSS, p 190)

“As usual, the full warmth of his approval made me feel a little flushed.“ (p TWS, 108)

Although by TWS Lucy is far more comfortable with Lockwood to his face, she can’t help but put him on a pedestal at the back of her mind, which marks the remaining difference between the show and the books.

“One full year after my arrival at the agency, the unrevealed details of my employer’s early life remained an important part of his mystery and fascination.” (TWS, p 40)

Even George calls her out on it:

“Oh, come on. You love all that mystery about him. Just like you love that pensive, far-off look he does sometimes.” (TWS, p 55)

Putting aside the “haha Lucy has an obvious crush on Lockwood” part, what’s interesting is that George specifically hones in on Lucy enjoying the “mystery” of Lockwood – although she does want to find out what’s behind the door, she also is drawn to, rather than repelled by (unlike Show!Lucy) the part of him that keeps things hidden. Her encounter with the Fetch in THB shows her precisely what is underneath that mysterious facade of Lockwood’s, and that (combined with Holly) is what, I think, finally scares her out of her idolatry.

As for Lockwood, we can only guess at his thoughts in the book, but we do know that he’s far less open than he is in the show. It is George who reveals to Lucy that Lockwood’s parents are probably dead (TSS, 114).

Lockwood only really brings up his parents (and quickly moves on to other matters) at the END of The Hollow Boy (p 391).

I think he makes a concerted effort to act as Lucy’s employer, to the extent that he hardly asks about or takes an interest in her personal life at all. Compare the line in the show where Lockwood says:

“Interesting outfit, Luce. Didn't have you down as a fan of unicorns. Or rainbows.”

To the book, where not only does Lockwood never comment on Lucy’s appearance, that line is a callback to a line said by George: 

“Ooh, Lucy – I’ve never seen you wearing that.” (TSS, p175)

In fact, I’d maybe even go so far to say that the show has snatched bits from George’s relationship with Lockwood and Lucy respectively and repurposed into Locklyle dynamics [see: George worrying about Lockwood’s recklessness, George upset at being treated as an asset (TWS, p107)].

This isn't to say that he doesn't care about them: he very clearly does and it is most clear in moments of crisis. But Lockwood is such a unique character, plus a known Stepford Smiler, and so "typical" signs of feelings of happiness (smiling at Lucy etc) shouldn't be taken at face value when trying to ascertain how he feels – and this is true until THB.

I don’t want people to think I’m cherry picking moments of tension between Lucy and Lockwood to make a point here. Once again, Lockwood does care about Lucy. When Lucy isn’t caught up in her Lockwood-filter, and when Lockwood isn’t preoccupied with his role as THE Anthony Lockwood, they share plenty of moments where they joke, laugh and generally act like teens, which the show captured just fine.

But those moments of cheeriness belie a narrative backbone that is very different. Lucy in the books is just 14 years old, and she’s looking for a (metaphorical!!!) “grown up” mentor after losing her father and being betrayed by Jacobs. Meanwhile, Lockwood is trying his best to shut the door on his childhood and act wiser than his years.

Thus when they meet, Lockwood just happens to be playing that authority figure Lucy thinks she needs (but we know she doesn’t!), and is only happy to oblige by continuing to play that role until slowly Lucy (and George) start breaking down his guard.

TLDR;

Show!Locklyle has a far more balanced dynamic than Book!Locklyle, which is objectively pretty “boss and employee”. Perhaps controversially, I don’t think Lockwood felt anything other than general workplace fondness/friendship for Lucy for most of TSS (at least until Combe Carey Hall).

Most importantly: Lucy in the show hates and is hurt by Lockwood’s secrecy, but Book!Lucy fawns over the very shadow consuming his soul – that is, until her rather rude awakening at the end of THB.

The ramifications of these changes have also spilled onto the characters. Lucy in the show comes off as more strong-minded, practical and confident, whereas book Lucy seems tougher, more of a tsundere (ye) and more love-starved. Lockwood in the show is the same attention-hungry “politician”, but more sincere, troubled and subdued. Whereas Lockwood in the books is crueller (remember that time he threatened to shut a kid in a coffin?), flashier, more competent and a huge brat (affectionate).

Which Locklyle is better is a matter of personal taste. In the show there’s arguably more dramatic tension, and the relationship is more tender/romantic and caring overall. But I think there’s something to be said for how unique Lucy and Lockwood’s dynamic is in the books, and the very carefully written unfurling that takes them to the end of TEG.

Either way, I hope I’ve convinced any readers of this giant word vomit that the show and book dynamics are two very separate beasts.

Agree? Disagree? Found it interesting? Hate my guts? Let me know what you think!!!

Till next time!

#lockwood and co #lockwood and co spoilers #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #this thing is absolutely massive i hope it doesn't wreck the app #if i see a typo or factual error after i post i will perish #locklyle #i guess

[pessimisticoptimistsblog]

A/N: Two chapters in two days, I'm on a roll! I hope you all like this, finally getting some of the show in this.

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Chapter 4

What the fuck

Grabbing another book off the dwindling pile in front of them, Caelwen’s shoulders slumped. This was the 4th day that she and Lucifer had been in the library. As much as she was enjoying the fallen angel’s presence, every book that wasn’t what they were looking for made her want to cry.

The news of the extermination moving up had come as a surprise and shock, Heaven truly was heartless. But it also moved Caelwen’s deadline up, she was too close to making Adam pay to wait until the following extermination – it had to be this one.

Lucifer tossed another book on the pile of useless ones, having given up on putting them away for now. Looking over to see his companion also growing weary, he checked his watch to see it was almost lunch time. Lucifer tapped Caelwen on the shoulder to pull her away from her current book. “Let’s pause and get lunch, we could both use a break.”

In the kitchen, Lucifer summoned ingredients for some sandwiches to the island, arranging them so they could both make their own. As Caelwen was going to sit, she felt her phone buzz in the pocket of her dress. Pulling it out, she noticed a message from Nia.

Nia: hope it’s going okay boss lady. We’re all good here, Velvette was a bitch but I handled it. Don’t forget about overlord meeting tomorrow. I know you don’t normally go but with everything happening…

Caelwen: Thank you. Yes, I was thinking this might be the time to go. I’ll go alone though, I’m more interested in seeing who still stands and assuring them I’m still capable.

Nia: let me know if you change your mind, okay? I’m here if needed.

Caelwen finally sat down, rubbing the bridge of her nose; she hated those meetings but with all the chaos of the extermination being moved up, she knew being present could make or break her company and position.

“Is everything okay? Your assistant hasn’t let your business burn to the ground, hopefully?” Lucifer asked with a chuckle.

Caelwen gave him a small smile *Yes, she was telling me that all is well. She also reminded me that there is an overlord meeting tomorrow. Despite not owning any souls, I rank rather high amongst the demons apparently. I’ve been considered an overlord for almost 300 years now, but it’s been a few decades since I last attended a meeting. With the extermination moving up, this is one I don’t think I should miss.*

Lucifer’s was slightly taken aback, he had always thought the sinners were only led by fear and power. This woman in front of him seemed so gentle, how could she have gained respect amongst heartless demons? Caelwen could see his confusion and chuckled silently.

*I can be quite scary when I need to be. Plus, I do have support from Beelzebub with my business. And that’s been a helpful bonus* Caelwen finished with a smirk.

Chuckling, Lucifer agreed with the Nephilim – not too many sinners would willingly try to piss of one of the sins. Though he wasn’t sure he could ever see Caelwen as scary.

Back down in the library, the two continued the cycle they had established on the first day. The 14th and 13th centuries had been a bust, nothing had come close to the symbol Caelwen had been branded with. Despite their lack of success, though, they were both smiling and laughing. Between sharing stories from their lives and making small jokes there were secretive glances, light touches that lingered on hands or shoulders, and faint blushes that they each did their best to conceal.

Caelwen had never felt so light in her life. In spite of how long she had lived in Hell, the Nephilim had always been more concerned with staying alive and hidden then with maintaining her company and image. She had never bothered with romance; she’d read about it, sure, but never looked for it. Still, here she sat, next to the strongest being in all of Hell, blushing and feeling as though her heart might beat out of her chest every time his hand brushed hers. And, fuck, if he kept brushing the feathers of her wings she might combust – she’d never realized how sensitive they were!

When night rolled around and they retired to their separate rooms, Caelwen lay awake, trying to sort through her feelings. Having been unable to speak for so long, she’d become well-attuned to her surroundings and reading people. She knew Lucifer was reciprocating her actions, truthfully he’d been the first one to start lingering when handing her books or moving her wings to a better position. The problem was that she didn’t know how to proceed or if she even should.

~ The Next Day ~

Caelwen was gone after breakfast, expressing her desire to check on the office and Nia as well as grab some clean clothes before the Overlord meeting. She hated taking a break from their search, but Lucifer assured her he’d keep looking while she was out.

After changing into a clean, sleek black dress and assuring she was consumed in shadows, Caelwen headed into her office. There, she saw Nia sitting in her chair with her legs propped on the desk with a phone to her ear. Plopping down into a chair across from the hell hound, Caelwen waited for the call to wrap up. From the eye rolls and the hand yanking at her hair, it was obviously not a fun conversation.

Finally slamming the phone down after a gruff ‘fuck off’, Nia turned to her boss with a grin. “How’s it goin’ boss lady? Any luck with the books?”

*Unfortunately, not yet. We’ve worked through quite a lot though and Lucifer is going to keep going while I’m out today.* Caelwen leaned forward then, peering at the spread of papers on her desk before looking back to Nia. *I assume everything here is still okay? No one has died or tried to get one over on us?*

Nia smirked, “Duh! I’m pretty good at this shit. You know, if you ever wanted to take some time off, I’d be more than happy to run this place for awhile!”

*Good. I may take you up on that; once this seal is broken, I’ll probably need some extra time to adjust and get myself in order before the extermination.* The two women smiled at each other then Nia began to catch her boss up on everything that had happened over the last few days.

An hour later, Caelwen was standing in an elevator of the tall building, and the overlord meeting would be held in. Consumed in shadows, she took a deep breath to center herself and mentally assume her alter ego. The elevator door opened, and Madame C exited and turned to walk towards the meeting room. Entering the room, she noticed Carmilla walking to the head of the table. Madame C looked around, taking note of each Overlord in front of her, a couple she didn’t fully recall, but most were the same. When her eyes landed on Alastor and his unnerving grin, a shiver rolled down her spine – she’d thought for sure he had died, wished for it honestly.

“Welcome Hell’s sovereign Overlords. I’ve invited you all here because you represent the controlling powers of our city. Together you own millions of souls, souls at risk with the new extermination schedule. We need to discuss what can be done to minimize the impact to our interests.”

As the tall woman was talking, Madame C made her way around the table towards her chair. Despite not being present for a few decades, the chair next to Carmilla and opposite to Zestial had always been hers, and no one had bothered to try and occupy it.

“Zestial, so good to see you my friend”

“Enchanted as always Carmilla” the spider demon said, summoning a cup of tea.

The arms dealer then turned towards the radio demon in surprise, calling his name. It seemed Madame C wasn’t the only one who had thought him dead.

“Oh, yes, I know I’ve been absent some time. I’m sure you’ve all been wandering!” How she hated the sound of his staticky voice, like nails on a chalk board.

“Not really,” Carmilla shrugged. “But welcome back in any case.” She turned to the shadow-encased woman beside her next. “I’m glad to see you as well, Madame C. It’s been some time since you’ve graced these halls.”

Madame C gave a short wave and nod of her head, eager to be done with the niceties and this meeting.

Carmilla snapped her fingers and was handed a clipboard. “This years extermination was brutal, far more even than years past. We have assessed that about 16% of the population was lost. With the Angelic legions returning twice as quickly, I think it prudent we-“

The door was kicked open by Velvette, entering the meeting late and on her phone. ‘Children’ Madame C had never liked the Vees much either, to brash for her taste. She propped her elbow on the table and placed her head in her hand, doing her best to tune out the youngest Overlord.

Madame C jolted back as a head rolled towards her before stopping. It was the head of an exorcist, golden blood leaking from where it had been severed from its body. Bringing a hand to her mouth, the shadowed woman looked away to re-center herself.

“Where did you get this” Carmilla asked Velvette.

“We found it during extermination day. If these Holy Rollers can be killed, the game has changed!” She hopped up on the table walking towards the center, “We can take the fight to them. The boys and I have come up with a full assault plan –“

Loud slurping interrupted Velvette’s tirade, thankfully. Everyone turned to Zestial.

“If it be true thee and thy colleagues desire to war with such meager proof, thou art far more foolish than I be thought.”

Madame C gave a subtle nod agreeing with the spider, one exorcist meant nothing in the grand scheme, no matter how wonderful the thought of eliminating the holy army was.

Velvette snorted, “’Meager proof’? It’s a dead fucking exorcist. I’d say that pretty fucking definitive. You goin’ blind, old man?”

“We know not how this perished. Mayhaps t’was not by a demon’s hand at all. If we rush to war without knowing, mightn’t they purge all of Hell for daring an uprising?” A round of agreements was heard from every overlord around the table, angering Velvette.

“Oh I get it. So, grandpa is too pussy to fight so I guess there’s no point. Right?” She got into Zestial’s face. “Oh what’s the matter, fossil? Too senile to make a real power grab?” Madame C clenched her fists to keep from throttling the girl, letting Carmilla stand up for Zestial.

The two women began to battle it out over showing respect. Madame C felt a headache forming behind her eyes, doing her best to not lose her mind over the shit show this meeting had become. She could have been with Lucifer - looking through the library, getting closer to actually flying, sharing more stories. Testing the boundaries of their growing friendship. Instead, she was stuck here watching a child argue for all out war with angels trained to kill sinners.

Madame C tuned back into the conversation when she heard Velvette accuse Carmilla of knowing why the angel was headless. If it was true that Carmilla had killed or at least knew how to kill the exorcist, she’d need that information for later.

Carmilla called for the end of the meeting abruptly as Velvette tried to get a confession, leaving the other Overlords confused and upset. They had all taken the time to gather, and the meeting had barely begun before it was over. Madame C had not missed the chaos these meetings could be.

Rising from her seat with the other Overlords, Madame C made her way to the elevators, avoiding any questions thrown her way. It wasn’t like she could answer, so why did they try?

Once out of the building, shadows consumed her and transported her to Lucifer’s front door; she didn’t want to bother with being interrogated by Nia after the disastrous meeting. Greeting the imp that opened the door, Caelwen dropped her shadows as she waited in the entryway for Lucifer. Less than two minutes passed before a portal opened in front of the green-eyed woman, a black gloved hand hastily pulled her through.

Stumbling, Caelwen was caught at her shoulders by a grinning Lucifer, his smile so wide it nearly split his face.

“I found it! It’s not the exact symbol, but that’s because he changed it to make it what he needed. I’ve spent the last hour triple-checking and I can’t believe I forgot about bindrunes! They’re very old, but powerful and it makes perfect sense for the timing and-“ he cut himself off, running a hand through his hair. “We can break this seal within the next couple of days, just need to get a couple things first!”

Caelwen’s jaw had gone slack, her brain silent, eyes wide in disbelief. When Lucifer said she’d be whole in just a few days, she couldn’t contain her body and threw herself at the blonde man, wrapping him in a tight hug. She felt his arms slowly encircle her waist, returning the hug slowly as his mind processed the action.

Pulling her head back to look Lucifer in the eyes, it took everything she had to not kiss him. Instead, she grinned at his shocked face before squeezing him tighter and then pulling away slowly. Caelwen grabbed Lucifer’s hand and gestured for him to show her the book, her headache completely forgotten as the two lost themselves in reading through the book together and making a list of everything they might need.

Whether they realized it or not, neither one made any attempt to pull their hand from the other’s, content with the connection as they basked in their victory.

A/N – Ahhh!! I’ve done a quick proofread of this, so hopefully, I didn’t miss anything. We got a little peak into Caelwen’s mind this chapter which was fun. I’ve been developing her since the season premiered on prime, and it’s so nice to get her written down. Hope you all enjoy; likes, reblogs, and comments are so appreciated. They’ve literally kept me out of a depressed funk this past week, so thank you all!

Tag List:

@leximus98

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin x reader #helluva boss #lucifer morningstar x reader

[delulu-with-wandanat]

(Last part of my girls <3) This gon be a long one so buckle up!

‘Mean Girl’ Wanda x ‘Nerd’ Tasha

The next day after their date, Natasha was ignoring Wanda. She was confused why Nat was acting like she didn’t exist. In truth, Nat thought that Wanda didn’t want their relationship to be public. Seeing as she was a nerd and Wanda was super popular. Nat thought Wanda was embarrassed of her.

Wanda slid next to Nat in the cafeteria. “Hey!” She said cheerfully.

Natasha glanced at her quickly. “Wanda.”

“Tasha, why are you ignoring me? Did I do something wrong? Was the date terrible? If so please would you go again with-“

“I- No, Wanda.” Natasha sighed and lowered her voice. “Are you not embarrassed?”

“…why would I??”

“I mean… you’re popular. I know you have a reputation to uphold, as much as I find those stupid.”

“Tasha I don’t-“ Wanda tried to explain.

“You’d want to keep this private and I respect that. You should-“

Wanda didn’t let her little nerd finish, instead she kissed her on the lips. In the middle of the cafeteria. Full of people. They heard some gasps and hushed whispers from other students.

Natasha was too shock to pull back. Wanda broke the kiss, gazing at Nat with the most smitten look. Girl was whipped. “Wands, people are looking-“

“And I don’t care. I would never be embarrassed of you. You’re my girlfriend and I’m yours. Reputation be dammed.”

Natasha rolled her eyes playfully with a smile on her face. In truth she was touched and flustered, she didn’t want to show Wanda that though. She has a big ego, but Wanda knows and simply kissed her cheek.

If 2 years ago you told Nat that she would be dating the infamous mean girl who gave her the nickname ‘Nerd’ Tasha. She would have laughed in your face.

Wanda’s ex boyfriend scoffed from his table. “Wow, what a downgrade.” He spoke loudly.

“Vis, shut up. Your hairline is already receding at the age of 18.” No one messes with the Queen Bee of Westview High.

(Hope you guys love these two as much as I do! Because they have my HEARTT🫶😩)

(If you guys wanna see the previous part just click the Queen of Westview High tag. I already put which part is which. Or idk how you search stuff on tumblr LMAO 🤷)

#natasha romanoff #wandanat #wanda maximoff #wanda x natasha #natasha #wanda #wlw #high school au #scarletwidow #scarlet widow #Queen of Westview High #hs au #wandanat hs au

[layce2015]

John Wick Chapter 4 (John Wick x Female!Reader)

With the price on his head ever increasing, legendary hit man John Wick and his wife, (y/n), take their fight against the High Table global as they seek out the most powerful players in the underworld, from New York to Paris to Japan to Berlin.

Chapter 1: Death Is The Only Freedom

JW 1 Masterlist

JW 2 Masterlist

JW 3 Masterlist

JW 4 Masterlist

"I am the way into the city of woe. I am the way into eternal pain." The Bowery King recites as he walks along the alley and down a subway tunnel to a underground hideout. "I am the way to go among the lost! Before me there were no created things! But those that last forever! As do I! Abandon all hope, you who are about to. You are now in the presence of the fucking king!" He yells as he enters the hideout and laughs.

Meanwhile, as he was going on his speech, John Wick and his wife, (y/n), were practicing on their punches. John was punching a tall board with a bloody rope around it, from all his punches he threw at it, and (y/n) was using a punching bag. As she punched it, she was letting out every aggression, every anger, every frustration out on the bag. The death of her sister, being kidnapped, getting shot at, getting beat up, losing their home.

It was only six months ago when you and John were just a happy married couple, excited for what the future held. But the way everything went, it feels like a lifetime ago; how the hell would (y/n) ever go back to being normal after knowing all of this and everything that has happened, assuming that her and John will get out of this alive. 

The Bowery King comes up to a barrel and lights it on fire, which then spreads to form a pentagon shape around the floor John and (y/n) were on as they kept punching their respective items. "You and your wife ready, John?" The Bowery King asked as he holds up a couple of suits hanging on a coat rack with one hand. 

John and (y/n) stop what they were doing and both of then turn to face him. "Yeah." John replied while his wife just nodded and the Bowery King chuckles.

At the desert, as the sun was rising, four horseback riders were charging across the sandy area, three turban clad men were on three white horses while one black horse carried John and (y/n). Both of them had guns. They fired a few shots at the men and eventually John killed one as he fell off of his horse.

Off in the distance, the Elder could see and he knew it was only a matter of moments before John Wick would make his way to him. 

As the chase continues, (y/n) was able to kill the second man and John got the last man before they stopped. They dismount their horse as they come up to The Elder, who had a small camp set up. "Mr and Mrs Wick." The Elder greets at the couple as they walk up to him.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" The Elder asked, calmly. Then John and (y/n) kneel down on one knee as John speaks. "My freedom." He said and the Elder looks him and (y/n) over. "If you came here thinking you could be free, or end this, by killing me, then you are mistaken." The Elder said and (y/n) frowns while John turns his head away in disappointment.

"My death will not change the outcome any more than you can change your nature. None of us can escape who we are, and no one escapes the Table. And the only way John Wick will ever have freedom or peace, now or ever, is in death." The Elder said and John looks back at him. "I know." He said and the Elder shakes his head then stands up.

"I'm afraid you and your wife have come a very long way for nothing." The Elder said. "Yeah..." John said and he and (y/n) stands up. "...not really." He said then he gives a nod towards (y/n) and she raises her gun and fires it, killing The Elder point blank. The couple glare at the man's body as it flops back then she holsters her gun. They turn and start to head back on the horse and figure out their next move.

Meanwhile, back in New York at the Continental, Winston was informed by the Harbinger that the Continental was condemned by the Marquis, which was signed by the twelve members of the Table. The Harbinger then informed Winston that the Marquis was waiting for him and that the hotel must be evacuated in one hour, so Winston and Charon made their way to the Marquis office.

"Ned Kelly's final words as the hangman slipped the noose around his neck were Such is life. Such is life, can you imagine the acceptance, the defiance?" Winston asked Charon as they walked the hallway to the front desk of the Marquis' office. "Today is not the day you will die. Of that, I am sure." Charon said as they stop at the front desk and Winston turns to his old friend.

"You have the unshakable faith of David, my friend, but you shouldn't be here. This will not be pleasant." Winston said. "Such is life, sir." Charon said and Winston gives him an impressed look right as a man comes up to them and leads them into the large office of the Marquis. 

"My father used to say, How you do anything is how you do everything. Called it the first and the last rule of life." The Marquis said as he has his back to Winston and looks out at the city of New York through his large window.

"You believe in rules...Mr Manager?" The Marquis asked as he turns to Winston. "Oh, I do." Winston said, firmly. "And what of consequences?" The Marquis asked. "Of course. And second chances." Winston replied. "Ah. That's where we differ, you and I." The Marquis said as he gestures between him and Winston, who kept looking over at the hour glass on the Marquis' desk as the sand on the top kept getting smaller and smaller.

"Second chances at the refuge of men who fail." The Marquis said and he goes over to his desk and started to put sugar in his tea, then once he was done with that, puts the spoon in his mouth to wipe off any remnants of sugar and tea. He pulls the spoon out of his mouth while Winston fidgets a bit in place, he didn't want to show it but he was getting nervous and it was getting worse the longer this went on.

"There are those on the Table who blame this, um, atrocity on New York. They believe it's this city. The Table has indulged this fucking place for too long. And look where that has gotten us." The Marquis said then he takes a sip of his tea. "I shot him." Winston said and the Marquis chuckles as he sets his cup of tea down. "And yet he lives, polluting everything he touches. Especially, with the help of his wife, who you did not take care of." The Marquis said as he gets a stern look on his face and starts to walk around his desk.

"Marquis, respectfully, my hotel..." Winston started to argue. "Your hotel?" The Marquis said, stunned, and Winston closes his mouth. "If I might, sir?" Charon asked and the Marquis looks at him, surprised. "By all means." He said and Charon takes a step forward. "The Continentals and their management are a reminder to all who still behind The Table, that none of us are above the rules." Charon said.

"And yet we are here." Marquis said. "Sir, Mr Wick..." Charon said but the Marquis starts to grow angry. "We're not here because of John Wick and his wife. He is simply the face of your failure, Mr Manager." Marquis said as he glares over at Winston then he walks over to his desk.

"The sand in that glass is merely an echo of my remaining patience." Marquis said, as he gestures to the hourglass, and Winston looks over at it just in time to see the sand spills out the remaining grain until it was gone. 

Once that happened, they felt the ground shake and a loud booming noise. The Continental had been destroyed. Winston and Charon watch on in horror as Marquis turns to them. "You are no longer New York." He said and Winston balls up his fist. "You are nothing. You are Excommunicado." Marquis said, with a hard glare at Winston, as he walks up to him. 

"And as such..." he said as he pulls out his gun and aims it at Winston. "...you no longer need the services of a concierge." He said then he aims the gun at Charon and shoots him in the chest.

Charon's eyes grow wide as he falls back and the Marquis holsters his gun. Winston stared at Charon in shock as the Marquis walks up to Winston, stops and glares at him for a moment then walks a few steps before stopping and looks over his shoulder. Winston goes over to Charon, kneels down next to him and takes his hand in his as blood was seeping out on the floor.

"It has been an honor, my friend." Charon said as he dies. "It should have been me." Winston said, shakily. "Yes. But it wasn't." Marquis said and Winston looks up at him. "Now, you think about why that is,and perhaps one of us will have benefited from this conversation." Marquis said and he and his right hand man walk out of the office.

"Bring me Caine." The Marquis tells his right hand man in French before they split off.

In Japan, after talking to his daughter about his schedule, how the other Continentals are feeling about what happened in New York and the fear that the High Table will come after him next, Shimazu walks through the kitchen of his hotel and comes up to two large guards. "Don't let anyone in." He tells them and they let him through to an outside area where two figures were standing off in the distance.

"I assume you are finally at peace." He asked John Wick. John looks over at his wife, who was looking down at the ground with her arms folded, before he looks over at Shimazu. "Apparently not." He said as (y/n) also turns to face him. "Killing the Elder was a mistake, my friend." Shimazu said and he gestures over to a table that had some food.

"Their response was the destruction of the New York Continental. My daughter fears we are next." Shimazu said as he walks over to the table and (y/n) gasps at this news. "Winston?" John questioned, concerned, as he and (y/n) walk over to the table. "Alive, but they executed his concierge to prove a point." Shimazu said.

"No..." (y/n) whispered, in soft despair, while John looks down in guilt. They sit down as Shimazu pours them a cup of tea. "Have you given any thought to where this ends?" Shimazu asked John, who doesn't reply, and (y/n) looks over at her husband, with worry.

"The Table will never stop. You know this. It only takes life and only gives death." Shimazu said as he pushes two cups of tea to the couple and sits down across from them. "Koji...For troubling you like this....I'm sorry." John said as he looks up at his friend. "Friendship means little when it's convenient." Shimazu said and the three raise their glass and they sip their tea, not knowing that trouble was coming to their door.

#fandom #fanfic #fan fiction #reader insert #x reader #john wick x reader #john wick fanfic #john wick imagine #john wick x you #john wick #john wick 4 #john wick chapter 4 #keanu reeves #movie fan fiction #fan fic writing

[profound-imagination]

Rose Gardens - Part 3 - Eris Vanserra

A/N: Here's part 3! I hope you enjoy! A massive shout-out to @swansworth for helping me plan this fic! ❤️

T/W: Mention of injury and blood - it gets angsty besties.

Part 1 & Part 2

W/C: 3.9K

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"YOU'VE BEEN WHAT?!" Okay, so maybe asking Cassian for help wasn't your best idea. "Be quiet!!" You hissed at him as you shoved him further into his bedroom and closed the door. "You've been writing to Eris Vanserra and you want my help to sneak you into Autumn so you can go to some festival with him? Have I got that right?" He hissed back, pulling the bun out of his hair and running a frustrated hand through it. "To sneak me to the border, not into Autumn" You corrected him sheepishly as he spun to face you. "Don't get smart." He snapped. You sighed. "Please Cassian?" Some of the rage ebbed from his eyes. "Why? Why Eris Vanserra?" You shrugged and sat on the edge of his bed. "I…I don't know, Cass." He continued to pace the room. "Rhys and Az would kill me!" You snorted. "No they won't. Not if you don't tell them! Besides, Rhys won't even notice I'm gone." He joined you and sat on his bed. "They'll kill Eris though, if they find out." You shook your head. "They won't know I'm gone! Az is too busy scouting for Hybern and Rhys is too busy with his child bride." A warning rumbled from Cassian's chest. "Feyre is not a child. She's our High Lady and you will show her the same respect you show Rhys." You held your hands up. "Please Cass, I want to live before I die in this war that's been started over Feyre." He sighed and ran his hands down his face.

"Fine." Your face lit up but he carried on before you could get ahead of yourself. "But I have conditions." You nodded. "Name them." So he did. "Eris is to guarantee your safety, from himself, from his father and brothers and whatever other dangers lurk in the Autumn Court, you are to be returned to where I drop you off by midnight, where I will wait for you and he will do it in the form of a bargain with me." You raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't sound like a bargain." He gave you a wolfish grin. "In exchange, I won't kill him. When Mor eventually grants Azriel and I revenge, I won't take it." You shoved his shoulder. "Those are my terms. He accepts them and makes the deal or when you inevitably sneak out on your own, I'll go straight to Rhys." You glared at him and he shrugged. "Take it or leave it."

You wrote back to Eris that evening and told him of Cassian's terms. His reply came almost immediately.

Dear Y/N,

He's smarter than I gave him credit for.

Tell him I accept his terms.

Tell me, which of the dresses did you choose and was the mask to your liking? I ask so I can dress accordingly.

Yours,

Eris.

You hadn't opened the box yet. The contents still a mystery. But Cassian had agreed. He was going to help you and you were going to see Eris again. So you finally opened the box.

Lying inside were three dresses and a mask all carefully wrapped in tissue paper. The smell of burnt sugar, cinnamon & fire wood invaded your nostrils, a smell that was so unmistakably Eris that you knew he'd wrapped them himself. You carefully unwrapped the first dress. A beautiful velvet gown of forest green. Gold thread decorated the neckline and the skirt in swirling patterns. The second was a deep red gown of silk and gossamer. There were no patterns decorating the gown but it was beautiful, timeless. The third was more practical, a cream wool dress with a roll neck and long sleeves. You couldn't help but think how nice it would look with the new boots you brought from the rainbow. Brown, knee high, leather. Comfortable, cute and practical.

The mask, the mask was something else entirely. A bronze coloured metal twisted into a beautiful deer. The antlers formed of twisted maple leaves. A deer you mused. Unassuming. You'd assumed he would've gone for a fox but it seemed he had his ways of taking you by surprise. You hurriedly wrote your response to Eris.

The full moon came quicker than you thought. You'd spent the morning training with Cassian and Azriel. The former kept shooting glances at you that you ignored. The latter still wasn't overly keen on speaking to you after your disagreement in Dawn. When they'd finally relented in your training in favor of Feyre you slunk back to your bedroom, where a note was waiting for you.

My Dearest Y/N,

I simply cannot explain how much I am looking forward to seeing you this evening. I have been counting down the days since you accepted my invitation.

I'll see you at sundown petal.

Yours,

Eris.

You grinned down at the letter and the rose petals that fell out of it when you opened it.

Sighing in contentment as you sunk down into the hot water of your bath, the aches in your muscles ebbing. You picked carefully through the selections of soaps and shampoos on the side of the bath, picking out your favorites to use. Soaking in the hot water, you allowed your mind to wonder what tonight would hold.

By the time Cassian knocked on your door that afternoon you were grinning at your reflection in the mirror. "You look beautiful, Y/N." He smiled down at you and you back up at him. You'd chosen the wool dress and knee high boots. Your hair cascaded down your back in gentle curls. A soft pink blush had been added to your cheeks along with a nude lipstick. You hadn't bothered with eyeshadow or khol due to the mask you'd be wearing. "Are you really sure about this?" Cassian questioned, he knew the answer from the smile on your face. "Yes Cass, I'm sure." He nodded once. "Let's go then, everyone else is down at the town house."

Cassian landed on the border a short time later. A fire had been set up, along with a basket of wine, cheese, bread and dried meats. You grinned up at him. "Looks like you've got an admirer." You teased the general. "I wouldn't go that far." A voice purred from behind you. Cassian tensed as your face split into an ear to ear grin. "Eris." You breathed as you turned around to face him. You suddenly understood why he'd asked which dress you'd chosen. There he was in a cream wool jumper that matched your dress and a pair of dark trousers. Hunting boots on his feet as was Eris' usual style. His red hair hung unbound as it was the last time you saw him and his mask was also of a deer. His antlers were bigger and you made note to make a joke about it later when Cassian wasn't around to hear it.

"Vanserra." Was Cassian's only greeting to the Lordling. "Cassian." Eris greeted him back. "Thank you for doing this Lord of Bloodshed." Cassian crossed his arms across his chest. "I'm not happy about it." He huffed. "You know my terms? She's to be back here by midnight. She's to be back here at the first sign of danger. You are to guarantee her safety from yourself, your brothers and your father and whatever other dangers lurk in this court. In exchange, when Mor gives Azriel and I permission to make you pay for what you did to her, I won't harm you. You'll die, but not by my hand." Eris nodded once. "I accept your terms." Cassian held his hand out to Eris who took it in his own and shook.

Cassian turned you to face him. "Have fun. Be safe. If you feel uncomfortable at any point, you come running straight back here." You rolled your eyes at him. "Yes dad." Cassian's lips didn't so much as twitch at your joke. "I'll be okay, Cass. You trained me, remember?" He nodded and looked at Eris over your head. "You remember that too. I trained her." You stood on your tiptoes and placed a kiss on Cassian's cheek. "Thank you for this. I know you hate it." He met your eyes and whatever he saw there must've given him some comfort that you'd be okay. "Go." Was all he said as he pushed you gently towards Eris' waiting hand.

Eris had pulled you to him and winnowed you a short distance away from Cassian. If winnowing with Rhys was darkness incarnate, then winnowing with Eris was like walking through the fires of hell itself. Not one flame touched you, the sensation was warm and comforting. "You look resplendent." Eris told you when you found your feet and you grinned at him. "Thank you, for the dresses and the mask. I'll return the other gowns." He shook his head. "The gowns are yours to keep, petal." You took his hand in yours. "I'll wear them to Starfall and to Court meetings, see if I can make that vein in Rhys' forehead pop." He laughed, his genuine laugh. "I've been trying to do that for centuries!"

The Lordling led you into a clearing decorated with tents, little balls of Fae light hung in the trees giving a soft glow. A huge bonfire was placed in the middle of the clearing. Fae were throwing pieces of glowing parchment into the bonfire and watching them burn into embers before they floated to the skies. Others were dancing around it. "What are they doing?" You breathed. "Wishes." Was all Eris said.

The tents around the clearing were filled with an assortment of things, spiced cider, hot chocolates, roasted meats, bread, toffee apples. "Do you like it?" Eris spoke softly into your ear. "It's amazing." He gripped your hand a bit tighter. "Would you like a drink, my lady?" You snorted at him. "Stop calling me that!" He smirked. "Never! Now a drink?" You rolled your eyes. "The spiced cider smells incredible." He pulled you towards the tent. "It is, it's my favourite." Eris handed you a cup of the warm spiced cider.

Eris proceeded to pull you around the festival, making sure you'd tried everything on offer, never once did he let go of your hand. When the two of you stood to watch performances or in queues for treats he stood behind you, his front pressed to your back, his arms wrapped around your middle. You were ever thankful for the mask you wore and that it covered the blush that was constantly on your cheeks. The two of you had taken a seat under a big oak tree, drinking hot chocolates and eating the caramels you'd begged him to get from a stall run by some of the children of the court. Your feet sore from dancing with Eris for what felt like hours. Every nerve ending in your body was on fire from how close he'd been, how your body fitted against his like it was made to do so. Your cheeks flamed again at the thought.

You were giggling at some witty comment he'd made, curled into his side, his arm over your shoulder, pulling you closer when a shadow fell over the two of you, blocking out the Fae lights. "Hello brother." The voice purred. One of his brothers. "Fathers been looking for you, The Hunt starts soon." Eris tensed, his spine straightening as he leveled his brother with a gaze. "I'm busy, Hawk." Hawk scoffed. "You and I both know you don't refuse Father. But it seems you've already found your chosen maiden for the night." He said with a vicious purr, one that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You felt sick as Eris' brother roved his eyes up and down your body like you were some kind of prey. "That is, if you get to her first, brother." Hawk smirked at his older brother, desperately trying to get some kind of rise out of him. "I said, I'm busy, Hawk." Eris' tone had changed, he was back to the cocky, arrogant Lord that the rest of the world knew and feared. His brother held his hands up. "I'm going, I'm going, I'll see you real soon darlin'." He winked at you as he turned and left.

Eris said nothing as he watched his brother disappear into the crowd. He didn't move as he took in his surroundings looking for any other members of his family. "Stupid, stupid." He was muttering to himself. You reached out and touched his shoulder. "Eris?" He flinched slightly at your touch. "You need to go." Was all he said. "What? Why? We have until midnight!" You protested. Eris stood and pulled you up with him. "It's not safe for you here, I never should've brought you here." He breathed as he started pulling you through the trees, back towards Cassian.

You pulled your hand out of his grip just before you reached where Cassian was waiting and stopped. He spun to face you, pulling the mask off of his face as he did so. "Y/N, please!" You took your own mask off. "Not until you tell me what's got you so spooked." You said calmly as you crossed your arms. "And while you're at it you can tell me what The Hunt is." You added. Eris ran a hand through his hair and you tracked the movement. "The Hunt is a ritual that's part of the Festival, the females run and the males hunt them. Once caught they claim each other. It's how we give the magic back, as the heir I'm always expected to start The Hunt but I wasn't going to this year, I was going to show you other parts of the court while it happened, have you far away from it. But then Hawk saw you with me and it all became so much more complicated." You tried, you really did try to stop the laugh that was bubbling in your chest but it escaped anyway. You clasped your hands on your knees as you continued to laugh. "You…you invited me to some kind of magical orgy?" You gasped out. "It's not funny, Y/N! It's not safe for you here, not now Hawk has seen you!" You calmed yourself and straightened. He was reaching for your hand again to keep you moving through the woods but you ignored it. You walked right into him and placed a small kiss on the corner of his mouth. A move that took him by surprise. "You stupid, overprotective male." You giggled your mouth brushing his again as you spoke. He seemed to fight with himself for half a second before his right arm wrapped around your waist, the left curling into your hair as he slammed his lips onto yours. "Have to keep you safe." He murmured between kisses. You separated and you were sure your face was the colour of his hair. "Now please let me take you back to Cassian." You nodded and took his hand.

Something was off with Cassian, you could see it in his body language when you approached him. Before you could open your mouth to ask him what was wrong, shadows shot towards Eris, wrapping around his neck, his wrists, his middle and they slammed him to the floor and Az was on him. "Azriel!" You gasped as Eris' hand was ripped from yours. "Get off him!" You took a step towards the males before a hand caught your wrist and you were enveloped in darkness. When the light returned you were in Cassian's arms. Rhys was leaning against a tree, Azriel was delivering punch after punch to Eris. "What do we have here then?" Rhys purred. He nodded at Az who pulled Eris to his feet, one of his arms wrapped around his neck, the other holding Truth Teller to his ribs, positioned to be a straight shot to Eris' heart.

"I thought I told you to stay away from him, Y/N?" Rhys asked, pushing himself off of the tree. "Then you get Cassian to lie for you and sneak you here?" You didn't answer him, trying hard to fight the tears in your eyes. Rhys nodded at Azriel again and Eris hissed as Truth Teller pushed into his ribs, puncturing the skin. You tried to force down the bile that rose in your throat at the smell of his blood. "Is this to get back at me? For choosing Feyre?" Eris' eyes widened. "What?" He choked out. "Oh yes." Rhys purred. "Has she not told you everything?" He pointed his question at Eris. "Rhys, don't!" You fought against Cassian's grip on you. "She's not what she seems, Eris. You weren't her first choice of High Lord." Rhys continued. "Did she tell you she's a witch?" Eris flinched at the word. Witches weren't something that was openly accepted in Prythian. "She loved me long before she met you, because of the power I have, it makes hers stronger. Just like yours would." Something like betrayal flashed through Eris' eyes and his face gave away everything he was feeling, Rhys had crushed him. You had crushed him. Rhys nodded again and Azriel twisted Truth Teller in his side. "Please!" You sobbed. "You're being used, Eris." Rhys continued. "You've also been working beyond what we've negotiated." Rhys purred at him, a talon scraping down Eris' face, splitting the skin as it went. "That's not something I can let go."

"I'll never see him again!" You thrashed against Cassian. Eris was a mess of cuts, bruises and blood. "Rhys please don't kill him! I'll never see him again, I swear it!" Rhys ignored you. "Azzie, please." Azriel faltered at his childhood nickname, the broken tone of your voice. Rhys turned then and looked at you. "You swear it? Never again?" You nodded. "Never." Rhys hummed. "I will kill him, Y/N." You pushed against Cassian again, he let you go this time and you fell to your knees in front of Rhys. "I swear it, Rhys."

Rhys looked over his shoulder at Azriel and nodded. Azriel let Eris go and he slumped to the ground in front of you. His eyes looked broken, betrayed. You reached a glowing palm towards him and he flinched. "Don't.Touch.Me.Witch" He gritted out. You in turn flinched at his tone, so full of venom and hatred. You felt your heart crack and fizzle into nothing. You hadn't even realised until that moment that you'd been giving pieces of it to Eris Vanserra. Rhys placed his hand on your shoulder and winnowed.

You were on your knees in the dining room in the House of Wind. Feyre and Mor were looking down at you with disdain as you sobbed. Rhys poured himself a drink as Azriel and Cassian walked through the balcony door. "You've ruined everything!" You sobbed. It was Nesta who wrapped her arms around you as you cried. "Come now girl, let's have some tea. It won't seem so bad in the morning." Amren ordered as Nesta pulled you to your feet. You didn't so much look at the others as you followed them out of the room.

Amren had been wrong. It seemed worse in the morning. You didn't go to training. You didn't leave your room or your bed. Crying to yourself, still in the dress you'd worn last night. It still faintly smelt like Eris which cracked your heart even more. You'd written to him, or you'd tried too. The paper never leaving your palm when you thought of him like it used to.

The following week was much the same. Cassian tried to speak to you everyday, to explain. Rhys had began screaming in his head and eventually he had no choice but to tell him where you both were. Azriel had arrived first and it had taken all Cassian had to stop the Shadowsinger from marching straight into Autumn to get you back. Nesta had walked straight into your room on the third day and run you bath. Once she'd coaxed you into it she washed your hair and brushed it out. You'd lost it again when you returned to your room with her and the dress was gone, along with the other two. Power had exploded out of you in a darkness that could've envied Rhysand's. "You tricked me!" You sobbed at Nesta. "Y/N, I didn't! I'll get you the dresses back!" Feyre had burst in then, Rhys on her heels and ordered her sister out and told her not to come back. She leveled you with a glare as she followed Nesta out the room. Rhys stayed.

"Are you really doing this to yourself, Y/N?" He asked, arms crossed. You didn't answer him, nor did you meet his eyes. "You haven't left your room in three days, you haven't eaten or slept. You haven't talked to anyone. Not even Azriel." You scoffed at him. "Are you really going to destroy yourself over this?" Your head snapped up to him. "Don't worry, Rhysand. I'll still fight in your war over Feyre." He bristled at your comment. "You're one to talk about destroying yourself though aren't you? A bit hypocritical. You're many things, Rhysand, but not a hypocrite." He uncrossed his arms. "I'm Rhysand now?" "You're lucky I'm speaking to you at all!" You snapped back. "You want to fight Y/N? Do you want to scream and shout at me? Throw your powers at me? Will that make you feel better?" You let out a humourless laugh. "You aren't worth my time anymore, Rhysand." Darkness crept into the edges of the room. "Even so, I am still your High Lord and you will respect me as such or you can find somewhere else to live." He growled in his most commanding voice. You glared at him as a shadow wound its way around your ankle. Keeping you planted where you were. "Fine. Done. I'll be gone by dinner." Rhys' face blanched for half a second before the uncaring face of the High Lord returned. "I'll see you on the battlefield then, Y/N. Find somewhere else to live but you swore and Autumn won't take you now. I'm sure your undelivered notes told you that." The shadow on your ankle tightened. "Get.Out." You gritted out through your teeth. Rhys turned on his heel and left.

To your surprise it wasn't Azriel that entered your room next. It was Mor. "Why?" Was all she asked quietly. "He makes me feel seen." Was your quiet reply. She hummed. "I know what he did to you, Mor. What you've told me. If I could change it, I would. If I could make it better I would." She wiped a tear off of your face with her thumb. "I can't get him out of my head, my soul. I should hate him for what he did to you but I can't." She held you as you cried. "I've lost everyone, including him." She ran a hand through your hair. "I'm sure you haven't." She tried to comfort you. "Rhys told him I was a witch, that I was using him for his power. Azriel hates me-." She cut you off. "Azriel does not hate you! Azriel hasn't come to see you because he thinks you hate him. For what he did to Eris." You sniffled and then admitted what you hadn't even admitted to yourself. "I felt it, Mor, everything they did to him, I felt it."

#acotar #acomaf #acosf #acowar #acofas #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #eris vanserra x reader #eris x reader #eris vanserra #eris acotar

[queenofmalkier]

Queen Nynaeve is nowhere to be seen in the second of the season

Interestingly, the showrunners seem to be favoring Egwene by making her the hero in both season finales. However, I have high hopes for Nynaeve's character development in the next season, depending on how the writers handle her storyline. One thing that I don't enjoy about the books is the lack of Nynaeve's point of view in the later books and the disregard for her safety by her friends. Nynaeve is my favorite character, and it's disappointing to see her become an afterthought to move the plot forward at times in the book, so I am happy with the show expanding her storyline. With that being said, I was disappointed with the finale, but I do see a path forward in season 3 and future seasons. What are your thoughts on the lack of focus on Nynaeve in the second half of the season? What is your expectation for season 3 and future Lan and Nynaeve moments?

I love this ask because I have so many thoughts.

To start with, I have felt disappointment with Nynaeve in the show not being straight up BAMF. I want to see her get hulk!mad and blow stuff up! SHE ANGY!!! But when I take a step back from my violent need to see Nynaeve commit violence of all forms, I'm actually left pretty satisfied with what they've done so far?

Season 1 was about establishing everybody, including Nynaeve. We needed to see that she came from a position of power and respect in the Two Rivers despite her young age. People trusted her because of her knowledge, because she'd proved herself worthy of that trust.

As she's older in the show we don't see the outbursts she's known for in the books nor does she whack people with a stick, but that's too be expected. She's grown past feeling like an imposter as a wisdom - though she still feels the sting of it, as evidenced by how she interacts with Moiraine.

We see her do some incredible things, and then we see she's capable of wielding some truly awe-inspiring power.

Season 2 takes that Nynaeve and scares the hell out of her. I think Ishamael said it best - she's afraid of power. I have a whole schpeel on the arches that I want to do because I think that episode (mostly) hammered home that pure terror she has about wielding the one power, but that's for another day.

Contrary to the books, Nynaeve isn't treated as another novice. Instead these mythical, powerful women she does not trust are borderline obsessed with making her channel . They keep talking about her potential, about her gift, about what she'll do... but none of them is really talking about Nynaeve al'Meara doing those things. They're thinking about the woman they want her to become: Nynaeve Sedai.

They don't even ask what she wants.

The fact that she has a block and cannot control her power is explored more in the show than it is in the early books, in my opinion. Later books she breaks down and admits just how afraid she is, but instead we're getting that earlier - in the arches, she can't heal Tam, then later she explodes in the same rage she did in season one but nobody is healed, nobody is saved.

Close your eyes, think of a flower. We've seen Nynaeve react negatively to that statement more than once, and I think that's a really, really good way to demonstrate just how unlike the other Aes Sedai she is. "It doesn't work for me like that!"

It's heartbreaking to see, and it's why Liandrin is able to manipulate her, because she doesn't treat Nynaeve like everyone else, nor does she really put her on a pedestal. She challenges her, she shows her the possibilities, she tells her there's no one way to be an Aes Sedai. She makes Nynaeve feel seen. (Putting aside the stolen Siuan scenes.)

Ryma is also able to break through Nynaeve's fear because she approaches it on Nynaeve's level, from a place she'd understand. No flowers, no soft petals. Healing.

Without Ryma there she cannot heal Elayne's leg, and she's so hurt and upset that she can't, but she can still help. She still has all the knowledge of a Wisdom inside of her. It lessens the blow of being unable to channel through her fear.

As much as I want to see Nynaeve channeling like a beast, I'm enjoying watching her work her way through her fear in a way that will make her channeling later on feel earned.

I'm hoping in Season 3 that she acknowledges that fear, as well as her feelings of being a failure to those around her when that imposter syndrome comes back in full - and that she gets past it with the help of Egwene and Elayne, two women who see her for her, and not for the power she can wield.

In regards to Lan/Nynaeve if we don't get the ring scene in Season 3 I'm gonna be so upset lol. It's really difficult to judge where they're taking things from here - how's Tear going to fit in? The hunt for the Black Ajah? Are we staying together? My guess is the 'better together' theme of Season 2 is going to expand to Rand breaking up the gang again because of his own fears, but I really don't know and I'm trying not to overthink it.

#wheel of time #wheel of time tv series #wot prime spoilers #nynaeve al'meara #wheel of time book spoilers

[littlejuicebox]

Midwinter Carol 1 (v2) / The Prologue

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Female Elf Sorceress OC

Word Count: 3.4 K

Story navigation: [1][2][3][4] [5] [6] [7]

Summary:

Astarion completed the Ascension Ritual, and shortly after, his lover left him. Eirianwen fled from Baldur's Gate for fifteen years, only to return unexpectedly at Wyll Ravengard's Midwinter Gala with some news of her adventures. Astarion, who has not been doing as well as he'd hoped gaining control over The Gate, is forced to confront his unresolved feelings for the woman and all the horrors of his past as well as the horrors he's inflicted upon others. One thing is made certain: the elven sorceress is the key to any ounce of salvation he may have left, if only she stops slipping through his fingers like sand from an hourglass.

But old habits die hard, and old feelings are pulled to the surface for both the elves. This unanticipated meeting catalyzes a series of events which force Astarion to confront the wounds of his past and deal with the damage he's done while trying to run from himself. The Ascendant is forced to decide whether he will continue on his current path or forge a new one... perhaps one that leads him back to the love of his life.

Warnings: This will be 18+ / in game spoilers / Eventual Smut / Angst, trauma, fluff / Gore / Violence / PTSD / Astarion’s past trauma

A/N: Apologies everyone, not a new update, just a re-write of my original one shot to align more with Eirianwen/Astarion and have a 3rd person version of this for continuity purposes. :)

-----

Fifteen years. The Vampire Ascendent hadn’t seen her in fifteen years, since she’d rejected his offer to become his loyal consort for the final time.

They couldn’t reconcile their differences. She’d wanted him to trust her, to believe that her love was stronger than any desire for power – that she could remain a mortal or become a true vampire like him and still remain loyal. She didn’t want to be a spawn; she’d considered his offer a great disrespect, and ultimately, his changed behavior had driven her away.

“You’re nothing like the man I fell in love with anymore. I don’t know who you are.”

Those words had stung, though he’d never admit it.

It had been an awful, messy, seething breakup, to be sure… and the Vampire Lord almost turned her against her will anyway. But at the time, Astarion’s soft spot for the sorceress had reigned supreme, and he still thought himself better than Cazador and above such things. So, against his own wishes, he’d let her go.

Last the Vampire Ascendent heard of the woman’s movements, she was somewhere along the Sword Coast, playing valiant hero once again. So, when he walked into Duke Ravengard’s Midwinter Gala with some pretty little villain on his arm that he’d picked up for the occasion and would likely drain of blood and dispose of later, he was flabbergasted to see his ex-lover sitting at the high table.

Right. Next. To. Wyll.

Fifteen years and it still felt like the greatest betrayal, as if she’d staked him through the heart in that moment. It took every ounce of Astarion’s control to not turn into a cloud of smoke and break The Duke’s neck then and there. Oh, but how desperately he wanted to.

But he couldn’t risk such a spectacle… many of his dealings were hanging tenuously as it was, and creating a power vacuum in the city was just as bad for him as it would be for those against him. No, Wyll helped to maintain the balance… and generally tolerated Astarion with some level of old-ties respect. They had an agreement: the pale elf would keep his business private and primarily drink from criminals, and Wyll would turn a relatively blind eye. So no, as much as he wanted to, Astarion couldn’t afford such a loss of control.

The Ascendent watched as she walked about the room with Duke Ravengard, hanging on his arm like a prize and chatting with nobles and old contacts. Astarion’s date — what was their name again? — tried more than once to steal his attention away, but resigned themselves to drinking heavily and dancing with several other guests. The elf watched the sorceress join the dance floor with The Duke and his blood boiled at the sight; he even bent the stem of his golden goblet from merely witnessing the vile scene.

No. Absolutely not. This wouldn’t do. Astarion had to do something, had to interrupt whatever game this was. How dare she and Wyll disrespect him like this! So, he stood and abruptly crossed the dance floor, the other guests parting like the Red Sea before him in their shock. 

Lord Ancunin never made his way to the dance floor for anyone.

“May I interrupt and have this next dance?” 

The Ascendent’s voice is honeyed and saccharine as the music pauses and the band readies for their next ballad. Everyone around the room is clapping politely. A gentleman’s smile is plastered across the elf’s lips, but it doesn’t meet his eyes, as he extends his pale hand to the woman.

Wyll bristles and turns to look at his companion. There’s a moment of silent communication between two sets of eyes that must know one another quite well, because Astarion cannot read their nearly-imperceptible movements as he waits, his hand outstretched mid-air. Finally, the Duke relents and passes the sorceress’s hand to the Vampire Lord.

“No funny business, Astarion. My men and I will be watching your every move,” the Duke warns through a benevolent-appearing smile, a warning hand clasped on the vampire’s tensed back, before locking eyes with the woman once more and then stiffly turning and walking toward the high table.

She smiles at Astarion, as if it’s just the two of them back in the center of that clearing, draped in moonlight and barren to one another, all those years ago. 

“It’s good to see you, my old friend.”

Old friend? Old friend? The words make the Vampire Ascendent’s mouth practically fill with bile as he spins his ex-lover about the room. He can feel the steady, stable beating of her heart and smell that intoxicating, tempting bouquet of blood brimming beneath her skin that he’d never quite forgotten.

They catch up, to some small extent, as she tells the elf about her journeys along the Sword Coast and he tries to impress her with his ever-growing influence and wealth. But before long, the song is over and the Duke is, annoyingly, coming back to retrieve his prize. The sorceress smiles so sweetly at Astarion before she departs that it almost hurts; no one else looks at him with that level of love and kindness… all he ever sees anymore are eyes filled with fear, mistrust, or hate.

“I hope you’re happy, Astarion. Truly. I’m glad to see you looking so well. Now go find the date you came with… they’re owed a dance, I believe,” she says before pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek and sending an electric shock through his numb heart. He almost gives into his urges and bites her right there, in front of everyone, claiming his love and his prize. 

“Goodbye, Astarion,” she says before once again turning her back on him and walking away.

“Goodbye, Eirianwen,” he calls after the woman as her hand ghosts away from his own.

He wants to reach for her hand and pull her back to him. He wants to ask for a second dance. But again, he lets Eirianwen go, slipping through his fingers like sand through an hourglass.

Astarion cannot take any more of this. He goes to retrieve his date, rips them away from whatever conversation they were having with whatever noble, and swiftly exits the party. Back at the Palace, the poor little thing is used for mindless sex and then for sustenance and then left to be disposed of by one of the staff with nary a thought. 

The Ascendant couldn’t even remember their name.

*

A week rolls by, and gods what a terrible week it was. Astarion’s grip had severely  weakened on the city after a few poor calls. In his pride, he’d never admit they were his fault; instead, he quickly blamed his advisors and sent them to the dungeons. 

Furthermore, the meeting he’d hosted today with several of the Guilds had practically blown up in his face as the Guild Leaders came to blows in the middle of the Great Hall. Mortal creatures could be so… excitable. The entire ordeal was giving him a massive headache. If the leaders didn’t come to an agreement soon, he would lose his monopoly on the shipping industry, as well as his tenuous control over the blackmarket smuggling ring. 

The Ascendant settles into his bed, alone, after downing several goblets of wine, but sleep does not come to him. He’s awake, staring at the ceiling, and all he can think about is Eirianwen. Gods, he thought he’d moved past all this. But as he remembers her face, their nights together, the way her beautiful body felt pressed flush against his… he feels his erection growing. The elf is about to stick his hand inside his trousers to provide himself with some relief when a familiar, annoying voice travels through the room.

“I’ve been watching you, Astarion.”

Fucking Gale. The fucking God of Ambition. The Vampire Lord shoots up in bed and immediately sees the silvery form of his former campmate standing at the foot of it.

“What the hells, Gale! A God and still an absolute pervert, I see.”

The God ignores Astarion, moving to sit his ethereal form on the edge of the bed and indenting the silken, cerulean sheets with the ghosting of his form. The elf wrinkles his nose in displeasure as he rips his legs as far away from Gale as he can.

The God sighs, “Astarion, you’ve rejected my help before, and the strides you’ve made within the city are falling… it’s beginning to seem that you are headed down a path you are not going to be able to return from. A few more bad calls and you won’t come back from it. You are wasting your potential because you refuse to become the master of your own ambition rather than a slave to it. I’m beginning to wonder… is this what you truly want? I can see many lifetimes of yours, with many choices you’ve made along the way, and I’m sorry to tell you this lifetime seems to be the most miserable.”

Astarion scoffs. The fact that Gale is the only prior friend that keeps in touch with him, albeit for his own peculiar reasons, is a sad fact that the Vampire Lord refuses to acknowledge. He’d pushed everyone else away years ago. The only other person he ever saw was Wyll at obligatory balls, galas, and political events… and obviously the last time had been less than fulfilling. 

But loneliness resided deep in the Ascendant’s heart, hidden away from even his own acknowledgement, so although Gale had always been his least favorite, the pale elf still engaged in conversation.

“What do you mean by that? That you can see several of my lifetimes? I find it difficult to believe that this is the worst. Surely there is a lifetime in which I’m still under Cazador’s control.”

The God of Ambition considers this, and then turns and looks off into the distance, as if he’s examining something Astarion cannot see. 

“Hmm. Actually, there is only one lifetime in which that is still ongoing. So yes, that one may be the worst. I stand corrected, this is the second worst. You’re dead in more of them, a spawn in most of them… and your Tav, or some other version of Tav, is in several as a friend or a lover, to both the spawn and ascendant versions of you. You might be surprised to know that in more than one lifetime, you and I are coupled… it’s quite interesting.”

Astarion cringes at the thought of being in a relationship with Gale, but chooses to move past the thought and acknowledge the only bit of information he actually cares about, “My Tav– Ani–  is in several of them?”

“Of course. Would you like to see it? Let me take you on a little journey.”

Gale holds his hand out the Vampire Lord, and Astarion cannot help but feel the pull of intrigue. Gods… at least this would guarantee a more interesting night than one with his hand spent down his own pants.

The pale elf sighs and extends his hand to the God of Ambition; just as their fingers brush, he feels himself enveloped in the warmth of the Weave. Blue light swirls and spirals around the two beings before, suddenly, Astarion and Gale are standing outside a tomb. The Ascendant hears himself screaming, voice raw with anguish, from inside the tomb, as his nails scratch against the unyielding stone. 

This is from his own past, when Cazador locked him up for a year. The panic, shame, and fear pulse in Astarion’s body, unleashed from the small corner of his mind he’d locked those emotions into. 

“Why the hells have you brought me here, Gale? This isn’t what I asked to see!”

“No… but I thought it might serve as a reminder of where you came from. You seem to have forgotten… and subject others to similar fates and tortures, nowadays.”

Astarion hears the begging and pleading to the gods, the crying and scratching inside of the tomb, and his gut churns again. How something that happened years ago, that he’d shoved deep in his mind never to acknowledge again, could still rip such a reaction from an all-powerful Vampire Ascendent, he did not know. The elf begins to shake, flooded with the emotion of the memory. 

Had he really turned into an exact replica of his former master? Hadn’t he wanted to be better than Cazador?

“Had enough? Okay, onto the next one,” Gale says dryly, and then he snaps his fingers; both beings are, once again, pulled through the Weave.

Now they’re standing in The Duke’s parlor room… Astarion had been in this room just a time or two before, during some business negotiation or another. Then he sees Eirianwen, bursting through the door with one hand on her swollen belly. Gods above and below, was she carrying Wyll’s seed in this one? The thought alone made his skin crawl and his stomach churn in disgust. The Ascendant thought he might actually vomit up his dinner.

“Hurry, my love! We need to place the presents here for the others.”

Astarion’s silver eyebrows crinkle together as he listens to the voice responding to the sorceress from down the hallway, joined in by the giggles of a child. 

“We’re coming, darling. This little imp is just slowing me down a bit!”

Then, he sees himself walk through the door with a silver-haired, giggling toddler wrapped around his leg… but it’s not himself. This Astarion has pink skin, a beating heart, a wedding band on his hand, and a few more years on his face. 

Mortal… but how?

Mortal Astarion is carrying a bundle of presents that he places on the coffee table in the center of the parlor. The small child grins and puts a hand drawn card on top of the gifts. The card reads: ‘For Uncle Wyll, Auntie Euphemia, and the Ravengard Twins. Love, the Ancunins.”

Astarion feels his pulse thrumming in his ears as the scene plays out. Mortal Astarion envelopes Eirianwen in his arms and plants a soft kiss on her cheek. The child walks, on two unsteady legs, up to the sorceress and fists their hands into her dress. The version of Astarion runs his fingers along the swell of the woman’s abdomen before bending down and placing a kiss on her stomach. Then he crouches in front of the silver-haired, drooling child with a smile.

“Let’s go and join the others, shall we? Auntie Shadowheart and Auntie Lae’zel have a gift for you, my little love!” The father cheers, his arms opening to receive the child, who immediately steps into Astarion’s arms.

“Yay, daddy! Go!” The little babe cheers, as Astarion returns to standing. The child is clapping uncoordinated hands together, which causes both this version of Eirianwen and his mortal self to giggle in adoration. He watches as the sorceress takes this version of him by the hand and exits the parlor, headed towards a clamor of conversation filled with several familiar voices. 

The Vampire Lord tries to follow the little family, desperate to see how the scene continues, but he’s unexpectedly ripped from the scene and thrown back into the Weave with Gale.

“I wasn’t finished!” The Ascendent shouts in frustration, running his hands through curled hair.

Gale simply sighs and shakes his head at Astarion, before snapping his fingers and settling them into another scene entirely.

In this one, Eirianwen is a vampire. Not a vampire spawn, a true vampire. Astarion watches as she pulls her dress on, unabashedly taking in the familiar curves of the woman’s body before they’re covered up. The bedchamber door swings open, and the Ascendant turns to see another version of himself entering the room.

“My treasure, we’ve done it! We’ve secured educational and apprenticeship programs for the orphans from the Guilds as a show of good faith for our support and protection.”

Eirianwen’s vampire self runs to this better version of Ascendant Astarion, immediately enveloping him in a shockingly passionate kiss. Tongues twirl together in a familiar dance. It was enough to make even the Vampire Lord’s skin run hot as he imagined what it would feel like to have the woman on him like that again.

“I’ve just put on my clothes, my love.” she murmurs, her voice coy, as she lowers her gaze to her dress and slowly drops her shoulder out of the gown before returning her focus to her version of Astarion, “but perhaps you won’t mind helping me back out of them… I think that announcement is cause for a bit of… celebration.”

The scene quickly evolves into something overwhelmingly hot and heavy. Better Astarion pounces on the woman instantaneously, strong hands tearing at the laces of her dress in a frenzied pace. Eirianwen is giggling in delight as her version of the elf pushes her onto the bed with a sly grin. 

The Ascendant feels himself tingle with desire as he watches everything unfold. Just his other self rips off the woman’s underwear and is just about to plunge himself into the vampire version of Eirianwen, the Weave swirls around Gale and Astarion once more.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” The elf hisses as he glares at The God of Ambition.

“I know… steamy, right?” Gale responds, with a small chuckle, his eyes analyzing the strands of the Weave, “now, onto our final scene… this one is your… unfortunate future, should you continue down your same path, I’m afraid.”

The Ascendent soon sets his eyes on possibly the most gut-wrenching scene imaginable. There she is, standing before him, holding a stake that’s driven straight through his heart. Blood pools around the wound, drenching both himself and Eirianwen in splotches of scarlet. He’s trying to reach for her, to touch her face, to choke out something he cannot say. 

And then he’s gone, slumped on the floor, as Eirianwen holds him in her arms and lets out a bloodcurdling wail.  

The crying goes on forever. Her body's racking with sobs as she turns the corpse onto its back and throws herself over it, almost desperate to have his body close to hers. After what feels like an eternity, the sobs slow and her trembling hands come to his face before she plants a surprisingly tender kiss on his lips. Astarion notices, with some level of shock, bleeding wounds along the sorceress’s arms and neck. 

Bites. Had he really been the one to do that to her? 

“I really loved you, Astarion… I wish it hadn’t come to this. There was nothing between Wyll and me. Just two old friends, catching up… I’d wanted to be back home, I’d fled from my city for fifteen years after what happened between us. Wyll offered me a soft place to land and a kind transition back into society.

I was sure everything would be okay after all this time. That we could at least talk. But you didn’t come to speak to me, you ignored my scrolls, and then— why?”

Eirianwen’s voice cracks as the sobbing returns. She starts slamming her shaking fists into the corpse version of himself over and over and over and over. There is a dull thud pounding in his ears as he watches his ex-lover repeatedly drop her fists against his corpse’s chest.

The Ascendant sucks in a breath and turns back to the God, “I’ve seen enough, Gale! Take me home right now.”

“As you wish,” The God of Ambition murmurs, unbothered. With a final snap of Gale’s fingers, Astarion is back in his bed at the Palace and wrapped in silken, cerulean sheets.

“So?” Gale asks, lifting himself from where he is sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I need to talk to Ani… I need to speak with her. Tomorrow…” the Ascendant murmurs, his head still reeling as he tries to process everything he just saw. He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs a slow, belabored breath.

What would he even say to her, after all this time?

“I would agree. It's far past time for you to pursue a new beginning, Astarion," the God responds as the Weave starts to swirl around him in bright, crackling flares of azure. Gale begins to turn away and then pauses at the last minute, his focus settling back on the elf still sitting in bed.

“Oh... and Astarion? I know we were once friends, if you could really call us that… but don’t think this little show and tell was for free. I’ll be asking something of you, when the time comes.”

The Vampire Lord nods. Of course. It could never be that simple, could it? And just like that, Gale disappears in a spray of light, and Astarion is left alone once more.

No. It could never be that simple. The only simple truth in Astarion’s life was this: Eirianwen was and would always be his saving grace.

#astarion fanfic #astarion x tav #baulders gate astarion #baulders gate 3 #astarion fic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic idea #baulders gate tav #astarion x oc #astarion x f!tav #astarion x female oc #astarion x female tav #astarion x original female character #midwinter carol #ascended astarion arc #ascended astarion #ascendedstar #ascended astarion fic

[nellycanwrite]

A Vow: a Fic Preview

Preview of Part 3 of “A Request” || Attuma x Talokanil!Princess!Reader

Summary: A war has been waged in your name. When all hell breaks loose, and when you have just risen from a week long coma, you are Talokan’s hope to turn the tides of battle to defeat the enemies who had hurt your people once and for all.

Or, in which you and Attuma were not happy with the King’s decision for allegiance.

Rating: 16+  ||  Viewer Discretion is Advised.

Note: It is worthy to note that I have not included any deep Yucatec Maya phrases (besides the terms of endearment) despite the Talokanil speaking in their native tongue as respect to their language. Therefore their mother tongue shall be labeled with italics.

More notes because the author can’t stop talking: Hi hi! Super sorry this took a while; I’m currently in the middle of moving from province to the (big, very very big, it’s literally the capital) city for college! Huzzah! It’s gonna take a week for me to fully settle in so I might be a tad bit slow on responses as well, so super sorry in advance if I can’t get to you in time. Nevertheless, the love I’ve gotten for this fic and my other BP:WF works have been nothing but heartwarming so I took the in-betweens of my move to update! Love you all so much! Muah!

Part 1 ||  Part 2 ||  Part 3 (Fic Preview)

“We have failed her. I had failed her,” he bowed his head in shame, “how dare I call myself her beloved—her sword, her shield—when she had been attacked by those people? How can I show myself to K'uk'ulkan when I have failed so miserably? I promised I'd be with her, but she—! But I just…”

Attuma must still be frustrated that the Wakandan princess isn’t dead, Namora thought.

Their warning to Wakanda was of great scale. K'uk'ulkan's righteous fury had so taken the life of the queen of their home nation. The life of a queen was the retribution delivered for scarring the crowning glory of Talokan's most precious treasure.

Hardly a fair exchange, one would argue, but you were the Radiant Pearl of the Sea. A drop of blood from your skin from the atrocities of a fiendish foe was worth a thousand deaths of their enemy's kin. 

Namora patted Attuma's back twice, her lips pressing into a thin line as she held back her own heartbreak. To see her childhood friends in such a state…it was eating her up from the inside out.

“You are still those things, Attuma. Her sword, her shield, her beloved,” Namora felt her own guilt weigh her down, but she held her chest up high to set an example for Attuma to see, “what happened in the caves was not your fault. K'uk'ulkan knows that. The princess knows—”

“It doesn't matter!” His voice was strong and mighty, the waters around then shaking by the anger and the frustrations from his voice. Attuma was grateful that they were still in the sea—his tears were hidden and drifting away with the currents.

“Attuma…”

“If that is all, Namora, then I'd appreciate it if you leave. I'll be there as soon as I am done.”

Namora sighed. 

Attuma's stubbornness was getting on her nerves.

“Have you so little faith in the princess?” The female warrior could hardly believe that those words had escaped her mouth. But the damage had been done; and it was something that needed to be said.

Attuma snapped his head to Namora in shock, but it slowly morphed into a warning glare.

“What are you instigating?” He asked with gritted teeth. Namora stared at him passively.

“You know her more than anyone. She will not blame you nor would she want you to practically weep whilst we prepare for our next battle. What would she say if she saw you despicably wallowing in self-pity?”

“You watch your mouth.” Attuma stood up, his frame towering over the female general and covering her whole. Despite the waves of rising anger, Namora did not stand down.

“Am I wrong?”

“You dare—”

Namora swiftly raised her spear and pointed it towards Attuma's neck. He glared daggers at his fellow general, but Namora's piercing gaze had left him speechless. Was this the power of K'uk'ulkan's own blood, he wondered, for such eyes would ground him and lower his gaze in their presence?

“You promised to burn them down in her name, correct? She will rouse in due time, but you were given an order. She has faith in you to carry her will; now it is your turn to have faith in her to do her part in recovery.” 

Attuma stayed silent.

Namora kicked his spear up and caught it mid-air. She lowered her own spear and shoved the shaft into his chest, her eyes burning with a new resolve. Attuma could only accept it while gripping the weapon with such strength that would have left dents in the metal if it weren't made of raw vibranium.

Namora hit the butt of her spear on the ground.

“You are wasted here. Instead of weeping for a circumstance that you cannot control, you have the power to fulfill her orders this instant. 'Burn the world,' was it? Well then—a battalion awaits your command to burn it with you, General Attuma.”

Attuma looked down on the weapon in his hands. It gleamed with an imminent danger, the inscriptions of his name carved into the metal. Along with it were delicate paintings of sharks and waves, something that you had so meticulously drawn for him as a joke, a playful way to annoy him, you always said. But he kept it there; you made it, after all. 

He glanced at you, your body incredibly still. His eyes lingered on your face, and like a helpless catch to a fisherman's bait, he slowly bent down to kiss your forehead and inhaled your scent one last time before he went to battle.

“I will follow your will to the ends of the earth. And though you lay still with no signs of waking, know that my heart lays with you, my love. My world…”

Namora stared impressed at Attuma as soon as he straightened himself with a newfound determination. There were no more signs of that pitiful man who stayed by your bedside while waiting for a miracle, no more signs of an estranged soldier who'd rather rot at your feet until you woke. 

In Namora's eyes he saw a steeled warrior. A king candidate who would fight to the death for his world.

And that world was you, his beloved.

“For the princess.” Namora raised her spear towards him, her chin held up higher in pride. Attuma followed suit, his spear drawn and spears clinking with a new promise.

A new vow.

For the first time since you had been bedridden, Attuma showed a sliver of a smile.

“For the princess.”

Taglist: @w0niecult @abbyeliza28 @fckwritersblock @chaoticevilbakugo @cascadingbliss @erisandra-noir @queen-bee-32 @rheannaaaz​ @antisocial-architect​ @lunamoonbby @kellzsthings @sodonuthideout @vilentia @llamayom  @violet-19999  @f-ergj @daddyslittlevillain @omgsuperstarg @liz776 @zeeader @atssukoo  @idontwannabeherenow @halalalalalalalala  @shebeast7121scared @spookymicrowave​ @nyainterlu4ee @blushsage 

#attuma x reader #attuma x princess!reader #attuma #mcu attuma #attuma x you #attuma x y/n #attuma x poc!reader #attuma of talokan #wakanda forever fanfic