#and. like Dream. what made the difference? people Actively Showing that they loved me and cared

[thumperdaetime]

the music is punk because it challenges the norm. the clothing is punk because it challenges the norm. the politics are punk because they challenge the norm. it's not a sound, or a look, or a book, or a slogan. it's a way of thinking that puts radical acceptance and relentless pursuit of joy, face to face with a world that wants you dead. you can't put a price on it. the disabled woman that says "fuck it people know I can't hold my blatter anyway. I don't care if they can tell I'm wearing the rehab-provided brief. Get me my bright lipstick I'm going to bingo!" is flexing the same muscles as the suburban white boy who steals eyeliner from his conservative mother. they are both people using identity, to create joy and signal comradery in lonely times, reputation be damned.

not to mention, all of the clothes I have been able to afford new when I was in my poorest moments were shit quality anyway. anything you can do to extend the lifespan of a physical object that was made under the modern fast fashion system past "thrown out, unsold at the store" is a win. in the same way that any pressure you can keep against an actively bleeding wound is a win. cloths are a common class of tools we use to help regulate our comfort, with that is with the temperature or our cave-mates. if the clothes make you feel uncomfortable they are already useless. it is already trash. why not try anything to see if it works? there are intelligent capable people across the centuries who died dreaming of what to do with once gorgeous expensive trendy fabric, that will now look dated and trashy outside of "the spring of '32 when i fell in love with jazz." or whatever the kids are into these days. the stupid walmart blazer you took a chance on 2 years ago but now feel "too X to wear" is no different. either you trash it now, or live with that trash in your home until your kids do it for you, while crying about how they always thought you looked good in that color. you might as well see if there's enough fabric to re-make that halter top you loved in college. when it looks homemade you get to boast and explain all about how you're trying to make shit better in little ways. and who cares if it fails? Aren't you deserving of a little petty violence? when the last time you really didn't give a shit about seam Ripping and just went to town? don't you want to be able to yell at something with no moral consequences? so much in this world is complicated and nuanced and requires forethought and responsibility. Wouldn't it feel nice to have a hobby that lets you get reasonably angry at evil fabric for not doing the thing, and then you can just throw it and swear, and then never have to think about it again. because it doesn't matter. it was already cheep plastic made to feed a system that would rather watch the world burn than lose a shareholder. you eat credit cards a year. you can not hurt wasted disposable plastic more than it will hurt you.

and then if it works you have a cute top to wear around places to show you are the kind of person who has cool tops! and help you ease people into the idea that a political movements starts with people deciding what things they inherited they actually want to keep around. and then maybe one day you cut apart and re-make out of nice quality fabric, with the mistakes you learned from the first one. so you can weaponize your ability to present yourself as ""respectable"" when you have to play the politics game in big official ways.

or (imagine this) you can even use your new knowledge of what types of edits you often make to clothing to buy a quality garment that will be more worth investing in. Ones that are made in ways that add value to their communities will feel good on your body from day one, and you can be mened and adapt in ways that may let it outlive you.

or maybe you elevate that shity, guilt ridden- shirt out of the gym lost and found on the last day of freshman year, because "fuck it- I liked that middle-school library fit. and Its a size too small but I'm bound to get thinner eventually. and I don't think its actually stealing if no one else wants it." Maybe if you make it into a statement piece scrap in your favorite "look I'm not happy about it either!" outfit, to show that you want to fuck with the systems in a "hey we should still have A Library tho right?" sort of way. you might run into the middle school girl who gets to break the ice with a fellow "cool garment person" friend. and she gets to laugh about your shirt deadnaming her. and you get to apologize and offer to let her sign something over it. and now you are advertising the formative art of a local queer-punk-artisan who you know is also out there trying her best to make the shitty stuff a little less shitty when they can, even if it means learning how to thread a sewing machine.... eventually.... hopefully.

also, as a person who has spent about a decade trying to figure out ways to keep kids of all ages informed and prepared and enriched on a budget. "Tug of War turned tie-dye Party" would of been a smash hit, my queer and rural in the 90's type parents would have loved it. after growing up with Halloweens filled with pieced-together costumes that made room for sensory issues and accessibility aids. and family "vacations" taken on public land with what's left of the food stamps. i think there is definitely a market for how to teach your children the fundamentals of serving in a world that might find their misery profitable. without like... terrafing them.

imagine how much easier alot of it would have been if someone early in your life had sat you down and said "ok. a lot of times things are going to be bad and unfair and evil. and there's going to be complicated reasons you cant do much about it but feel bad. but if you feel bad all the time it will only get worse. so what you can do is take what is around you, figure out what it is and how it works and why it's there, and then break it in ways that are meaningful and delibrite. and re-shape it to help the actual people who are trying survive."

then they showed you and all of your little friends how to research, what fabric is and understand why you bought supplies, and then get their hands dirty testing how strong it is, and why jeans have rivets even when you want to sew right there. and re-asure them that it's ok you paved the way to make sure they can't hurt anything too bad even if they are really really bad at it. and then let them find joy and pride in making something unique and custom with their own tools for the cost of cleaning out a closet, and some rite dye.

and then the community has a couple new little baby punks making decent folks smile with little bold fashion statements, and turning heads when they experiment with which parts of society they want to bring into the new age. tl;dr: I think we need to start telling the “I’m too poor to dress punk” crowd that they’re posers. -polyamorouspunk, November 2024, tumbr.com

I think we need to start telling the “I’m too poor to dress punk” crowd that they’re posers.

[saintslewis]

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐔𝐏 𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃

𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 | 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒

pairing: sir lewis hamilton x fem!oc; Nadia

summary: how about a vacation? :D

warnings: outfit descriptions/links, cussing, name brands, a lot of dialogue, maybe typos? idk

saint’s team radio 🪩: sorry for making you guys mad last chapter LMAOOO. made this one a bit longer so hopefully i get forgiven. where’s your dream vacay spot?

amanzoe link!

pls like, reblog and comment! <3

fc: @/unclewaffles_ on ig!

renaissance masterlist • general masterlist

-

Nadia felt different.

Of course she looked different in the week she asked for a week’s extension of her leave. Her hair now long and blonde, more tattoos specifically on her hands and a piece on her back. Everything re-pierced to feel more comfort within the pain and much baggier clothes as well.

She was physically glowing. Smelling like vanilla layered with an expensive Arabic perfume, knowing it would turn heads as soon as she walked anywhere. Going for lighter eyelashes, her eyes didn’t feel as heavy as they did as when she cried for hours days before.

Driving in ever-cloudy London felt good. The engine of her McLaren roared as she drove through traffic to make it in time for work, earning stares from people in their cars. She liked it, Nadia liked the attention she was receiving but she knew it would be difficult to not want more.

Lewis’ hoodie was warm and smelled like him no matter how many times it’s been washed and that brought immense comfort to Nadia. A smile spread across her face as she thought back to her husband.

He loved her and she loved him.

He never failed to show his love to her, small touches throughout the day no matter the activity, his gaze was on her most of the time like a lovestruck teenager who had just gotten with his crush. Anything she wanted, Lewis would get to it in a blink of an eye. Nadia got loved on so much that she could still feel his slow kisses all over her body making her thoughts drift away.

She had put her phone on DND except for Lewis, him being the exception for whenever he was out and missed his wife. She knew it wasn’t healthy to push everyone away but she felt the most safe in her little circle. None of them being her actual family members.

Snapping her out of her thoughts, her ringtone rang through the car and she saw that Lewis was calling.

“Morning my love.” He greeted first as soon as the phone was answered.

Smiling at the sound of his voice, she replied. “Morning, pookie. What you up to?”

“Still at the house, might go to my dad’s for a bit. Just wanted to check on you.”

“You’re gonna go this morning?” Nads asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

A beat passed.

“Lewis?” “Yes, my love?”

“Whatever you’re planning, make sure you get home safe.” She spoke and he chuckled at her stern voice, imagining her roll her eyes.

“I promise.”

Lewis dropped the call, putting his phone in his back pocket as he leaned on his car.

Thankfully, Buckinghamshire wasn’t cold but he felt a bit of a breeze as he chewed on his gum. Fixing his cap, he walked to the front door of the home and knocked ever so gently. Hearing footsteps and inaudible voices, the door opened to a very surprised Rea while she was fixing her school tie.

The look in her eye moved from surprise to realisation as she registered who was standing in front of her. “O-oh. Morning Lewis.” The young girl stuttered. With his face stoic, he placed his hands behind his back.

“Where’s your aunt? Just wanna have a little chat.” He spoke.

Before she could speak, Thembi came to the door shouting for Rea to close the door if it was a neighbour. As shocked as her niece was, Thembi’s expression changed to that of smugness. “What a surprise! Can’t believe my son in law is so early!” She smiled widely as she clapped her hands.

“Please don’t call me that.” He returned the smile and watched as hers fell at the tone of his voice. “I came here to honour my wife. What the two of you have done to Nadia was absolutely disgusting,” He started.

Thembi’s eyes changed to what appeared as darker and brought slight chills down his spine. Nadia had described this look as one of a narcissist, a look that scared her as she grew up and explained her reasons for never being at home. Lewis has had his share of people like Thembi in his life so he was not phased as much.

“Call me unfair or any types of names but I don’t want either of you near my wife. I won’t speak for her but she’ll sort you out herself if she chooses to speak with.” Lewis concluded, his voice stern.

Nadia’s mother laughed. She laughed out loud at Lewis’ words. “Do you think we’re scared of you? Just because you’ve got more money and fame, you think you can take my daughter away from me?” The older woman pushed Rea behind her as she came face to face with Lewis.

“She never told you why she can’t have kids? Always out of the house because she couldn’t keep-” “Auntie, no. Don’t.” Rea spoke up but got given a look that shut her up.

“Listen here, Mr rich man. That girl was a harlot and never listened to me. Never showed me her grades and she expected me to love her? Who cares if she got in Oxford or whatever? This will teach her a lesson!” Thembi angrily expressed, using her hands to make gestures.

The fact that Lewis was unmoving was getting on her nerves. Why wasn’t he scared? He should be.

“Go back to her! Tell her she’s getting bigger and she needs to cover up and she needs to cover up. We don’t need her or her money. God, I wish I never had her. Such a pain in the ass.” She continued and at this point, Rea was tearing up behind her.

He raised his eyebrows and stopped himself from saying something damaging. “Gladly.”

With that, Lewis left them standing in their doorway. Thembi snickering as if she got the last laugh between this exchange and Rea who looked distraught, as if she lost everything in that very moment. He swiftly got in his car and took off to actually visit his father, as calm as he could be.

His phone buzzed as he drank his tea. Lewis loved receiving text from Nadia because she could go from being goofy to suddenly being serious, discussing anything and everything.

MESSAGES!

sthandwa sami: pookie!!! my students got me flowers and wrote me so many letters! 🥹🥹

that’s amazing, my love. you deserve them and the world. you’re so strong, my beautiful girl

sthandwa sami: great, now you’ve got me crying all over again. i love you, i’ll see you later 😚

i love you most. got a surprise for you when you get home.

sthandwa sami: 🤨🤨🤨

go back to work, you’ll find out soon 🤣

sthandwa sami: mmmkay. please also get croissants for me, love you bye!!! <3

“What’s got you smiling over there, son?” Anthony spoke up with a knowing smile on his face.

With his own grin gracing his face, Lewis put his phone down. “The one and only. She’s doing a whole lot better than last week.” He said to his father.

“That’s good. You should bring her ‘round more. She’s definitely a character, the whole family can’t stop gushing over her.” A laugh was shared between the two before a hush fell over their conversation.

Taking a sip of his tea, Lewis spoke up. “I did the thing we discussed. I thought you lot were joking about the narcissism.” He leaned his head on his hand.

Anthony let out a scoff. “Good. Didn’t want them to tear her down, that was disgraceful. You wired the money for her….what’s it called?”

“Lobola. It’s her dowry.” Lewis said, his accent prevalent as he tried to pronounce the word.

“Ah, yes. It’s not that we want to take her away from her immediate family but I don’t want them near her. They can’t ruin the plan knowing how far we’ve come.” His dad sighed as he spoke.

All Lewis could do was nod. He just hoped everything will work itself out because he truly loves Nadia.

-

There she was.

Blasting music in the driveway as she carried her new flower bouquets out of her car. A big smile on her face, bigger than what Lewis had seen during the past few weeks.

Eventually switching off the ignition and the music all together, Nadia fixed her purse strap and walked towards the front door of the home with Lewis standing right there. Leaning on the wall with his arms crossed and just admiring her as she came closer.

Making eye contact with him just lit up her whole face even more, eyebrows lifted slightly with her eyes rapidly blinking. She looked so happy. He never wanted her smile to leave her face, he planned to keep it there forever.

“Hi baby!” Nadia elongated the pet name as she stopped right in front of him. “Where’s all this energy from, love?” Lewis chuckled as he asked the question. Leaning forward to give her a peck, she returned a few more before looking into his eyes once again.

“Just a lot of good things happened today, it feels unreal.” She smiled, surely her cheeks were painful by now. “From the flowers from my kids to the email from Pharrell. Oh! And they let me take part time.” Nadia casually said, walking around to enter the house.

With his body moving along with hers as she walked past, he fully digested her words. “What? Love, what do you mean?” He asked, closing the front door behind him.

“Yeah! I managed to have a civilised conversation with the principal and we agreed that I’d take part time. It hurt to make the decision but I think it’ll work out for me.” She spoke. With her shoes off, she waltzed into the kitchen and placed the bouquet she was holding, down. Not even noticing the semi-large box on the kitchen island.

A moment of silence passed before he spoke. “As long as you’re sure and happy, then I am as well.”

“Thank you, pookie bear.” Nadia blew a kiss to him when her eyes finally landed on the box with a pretty pink bow. Giving him a look, Lewis moved next to her, holding her waist ever so gently. “Remember the surprise I told you about earlier on?” She nodded and he unconsciously squeezed her waist.

“Well…i know it’s summer break in about 3 weeks and I wanted you to have fun with some of your friends so I organised a little something.” He responded with a soft smile on his face as hers moved to look back and forth between him and the box.

Unwrapping the bow, she was stunned to see a few pairs of sunglasses, flower-themed claw clips, what looked like a new makeup bag and an envelope tucked at the very side with the words ‘For when the sun shines at Amanzoe’.

Her eyebrows furrowed. “What’s Amanzoe?”

“You’ll see.” He smiled with a smirk on his face.

Leaning towards him, Nadia kissed him passionately, their lips meeting with a soft touch with Lewis’ hands already roaming all over.

“What was that for, baby?” Lewis asked, a little breathless after separating from her.

“Just in case I get super surprised.” She shrugged.

-

PORTO HELI, GREECE

“Holy fucking shit.”

Nadia’s eyes were widened from the moment they were picked up from the airport via the private entrance. She knew that she would be surprised but not as inadequate as this.

That conversation was had three weeks before the friend group landed in Athens for the first time, impressed that there was transportation waiting for them with their luggage carefully packed.

Is this what luxury felt like? Did it always look so good? Nadia even thought to her appearance. Her hair in her usual blonde, a beautiful figure hugging dress from Loewe paired with tan Hermes Ocras. She felt like luxury. She finally felt comfortable in it.

Driving into Amanzoe felt like a whole new world. The calmness and ultimate luxury of the resort was absolutely stunning, the architecture paying homage to that of historic Greek monuments and mythology. It was so peaceful, Nadia took a deep breath and immediately felt relieved.

Feeling an arm link with hers, she lifted her head to see Justine with the biggest grin on her face. “I can’t believe that we’re here! It was so hard keeping this secret for so long.” Justine chuckled as the two of them followed Lori and Hailey in the main lobby building.

No words could leave her mouth as she continued to admire everything that was in sight. Nadia felt like it was a dream, from the villa to the damn plates they used in the resort restaurant. The girls spent their time over the next few days just soaking up the sun and enjoying the amenities that the resort offered, talking about anything and everything under the stars.

Talking about her infertility was tough but she felt safe enough to be vulnerable with them and it was then she realised how much support she had been getting from her friends. She would often look at the girls and internally thank them for making sure she was happy and healthy.

“Let’s go to the beach club!”

That’ll do it. Once it was decided that they would go and have fun, the group got ready and took several pictures before leaving the villa. The beach club was very cute, a very chill vibe knowing that Lewis was in Spa and it was race time. The aesthetics of the place were too beautiful however, that’s what change their minds.

Leaving for a hunt for a good night club in Athens, the girls had the time of their lives and Nadia felt free. Free from everything waiting for her back home, free from her job, free from her mom. She was on cloud nine.

The next few days felt like heaven. Nadia knew that history intrigued more than she could ever imagine but to see herself fully grasp into Greek culture was something she was purely interested in. And so was Lewis. Lori, Justine and Hailey had left earlier to give the two their well deserved time alone. He had arrived and immediately went into vacation mode.

The Hamiltons were in Greece, a summer break that one could dream about for days on end. They would eat, sleep, explore, make love, read, chill in the pool all in the comfort of Amanzoe.

-

MESSAGES

rea: hey nadia. just wanted to check in on you. i miss you

nadia: girl fuck you

*this contact has been blocked!*

Instagram!

nadiahamilton

liked by sza, ryandestiny and 4,747,976 others

nadiahamilton it’s so damn hot, my fault y’all! 😣 (look how gorgeous my girls look 🥹)

view all comments.

user i’m biting my phone rn

user and you just wake up and LOOK LIKE THIS??

user MOTHER IS BACK

user MOTHER IS BACK OH MY GOODNESS

loriharvey hi (louder than everyone else)

nadiahamilton hi my love 🤭

latto that man is so lucky, i’m so jealous of him

nadiahamilton back home in a few days 😝

user NADIA

lewishamilton you’re joking

lewishamilton i just fell to my knees

lewishamilton god, you’re beautiful

user get you a man like lewis y’all!!

user is she not going to address anything??

user she’s not obligated to tell you shit 🫶🏽

mercedesamgf1 the princess of the team 💐

alexandrasaintmleaux i’m barking at my phone, JUST ONE CHANCE PLS

charlesleclerc alex 😧

alexandrasaintmleaux i don’t think you understand

lilymhe TINKERBELL!!

nadiahamilton LILS!!

theestallion allat for US?!

nadiahamilton it’s all for you actually meg

user 2 million likes in an hour, no one is doing it like her i fear 😭

lewishamilton you’re so beautiful

nadiahamilton thank you sthandwa sami 🤍

user DOES HE KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS

user clearly he does omg

user it’s so cute that he’s learning for her

sza this is what i pay my wifi for

nadiahamilton BITCH 😭

haileybieber take all my money

justineskye i think it’s time for another vacation with you, i need it NEOWWW

user she’s your favourite celebrity’s favourite celebrity 😭🫶🏽

tayrussell hey and stuff

nadiahamilton hey bae

amanhotels thank you for the visit! 🤍

user AMAN??? AMANZOE???? THEIR MONEY LONGGGGGGG

user idc nicole is still far better than her

user the same one who couldn’t get a ring after 7 years? c’mon now, let be serious

fencer sister in law serving looks!!!

nadiahamilton don’t think i’m not watching you, kilometre….

fencer what did i do?????

lewishamilton i love you. got you more halloumi

nadiahamilton COMING, I LOVE YOU 🥹🥹

lewishamilton

liked by louisvuitton, fencer and 3,574,168 others

lewishamilton the wife pt.2 in greece

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saint’s notes: hope y’all enjoyed this! 🥹

tags: @non-stop-imagines @motheroffae @perfecttrashface @thisismeracing @myescapefromthislife @slytherinjimin3nthusiast @jamie2305 @cocobutterqwueen @like-fire-love-blog @sugardontbesweet @simpfortoomanymen @mauvecherie-writes @queenshikongo3 @eugene-emt-roe @deepgothfiremuffin @18754389 @cherry2stems @anubisnoir @littlelizzies-world @httpsserene @apenasumlug4r @eddiesbitch83 @arshiyuh @alika-4466 @peyiswriting @sunfairyy @vsfavs @louvrepool @mistruscity @tian-monique @hopefulromantic1 @exotic-iris13 @yeea-nah @nichmeddar @gg-trini @lifeless-firefly @vellicora @takeoffz-tookoff9876 @serpenttines-library @emjayewrites @royallyprincesslilly @lewisroscoelove @purplelewlew @xoscar03 @kidsol-ar @nothaqks @tremendousstarlighttragedy @ggaslyp1 @henneseyhoe @saturnville

If your account is blank, that means tumblr can’t find you!

[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!

[da-janela-lateral]

MP100 S2E01 under a writer's perspective

The Emi Fukami episode in Mob Psycho 100 was a beautiful display of Mob's character development in relation to his individuality and a earnest vision of emotional vulnerability, but I want to call attention to a single detail: Emi being a writer.

Out of all the secret truths that the cast masks during the narrative, Emi's must be one of the most mundane. She is writing a book. She doesn't want people to know about it, much less read it, as Emi was led to believe this hobby of hers was embarassing.

I find it very interesting that Emi, character whose focus episode revolves around vulnerability, has writing has her main passion. In a way, writing is one of the most revealing art forms that there is. Literary choices are a reflection of the author's context, beliefs, likes and dislikes, fears and dreams, even though many of these choices cannot be perceived in a sensible level. Even if I suddenly decided to write a tale about a random theme - you say, a blue-footed booby who becomes an architect while wearing ballet shoes - it would say something about me. It could be a preferred text type, my sense of humor or even my idea of what is "random". Word choices, rhythm, figures of speech, themes, narrative structures, spins on a literary genre's expectations - all of these and more consist of conscious or unconscious decisions made by the writer. Writing as an art form serves as a mirror to the artist's very mind.

As a result, a piece of text can be a very delicate thing. Many people would only reveal their works to a exemplarily trusted someone, or to no one at all. That's the origin and end of uncountable masterpieces. It is also associated to passion. Few are the writers who characterize themselves as such and don't feel a duty to write. Yes, duty. Not all pieces are a labor of love, but it's almost universal that they're one of resolve, as little as it might be. One can unlock a fundamental will to write something in spite of it being weary work. At this point, for many writers, it's not a simple hobby. It's a need. It's a compulsory manner of expression hardwired onto our brains; thus, it's an inseparable part of who we are.

So what does any of this have to do with Emi's arc?

S2E01 is all about being vulnerable. Even though Emi had only asked out Mob because of a bet and hanged out with him for a week, she felt safe enough to show him her book. Her own friend group didn't have an idea that she was working on one, and once they discovered this, they ridiculed Emi's effort and teared it to shreds. Emi tried to alleviate this rejection by affirming she didn't care for her work, while everything shown previously on the episode proved this was wrong. In turn, Mob uses his psychic powers to put back her text together - his first public demonstration of them since he was a child. Mob was honest about himself by revealing he was an esper. Emi was honest by wanting his opinion on her book.

Emi is a fourteen year old girl going through a confusing and ever changing phase of her life. After doubting on Mob's emotions, she tells him that she too doesn't know well who she is, and her actions around her friends prove how she was prone to peer pressure. Her mind and identity were on an uncertain state, and this would also reflect on her writing. Emi uses complicated words, perhaps to make her writing sound more serious. Based on a translation of her work "Adventure", she uses more of a stream of consciousness prose and ambiguous descriptions. She immediately decides to write something different after her experiences with Mob. Emi has a personal style! She has techniques and topics she enjoys and active choices about how she will employ them! Emi has a bit of her on her story and this was why she hid it so much: a mockery of it would be synonym of a mockery of herself.

This is what makes the plotline with her book so important to express the episode's themes. Emi felt insecure to reveal such an integral part of herself to the world until someone came and not only took it seriously, but appreciated it enough to make an effort to understand it better. It tells a lot how Mob's demonstration of caring made her leave the people who destroyed her work.

As a writer, this detail gave a whole another layer of significance for the episode. I've felt Emi's struggle in a very intense level on the past. Storytelling is something so dear to me I can't see myself without the adjective of "writer", but the acknowledgement of my work would be the same as exposing myself to the world. It can be scary at times, to divulge something so sincere to others. However, such is the writer's role: divulging. For reasons long unknown a magical excess of words was born to me, and this coincidence can't be supressed and abandoned on the dark. There is something I can offer copiously hand in hand and its words. Words. Words. Words... And the reflection of me resonates on others.

[good-beanswrites]

My thoughts on how the Milgram mv machine works based on the evidence we have:

(I know there’s been discussion about where exactly the interrogations take place, but wherever they are,) the prisoners are made to sit in a specific chair near the wall that houses the machine.

It’s ordinarily hidden, but the wall panels shift aside to reveal it when the mechanical sounds play in the dramas. As well as the walls moving, the chair transforms to restrain the prisoner and attach whatever it takes to access their brain. The fact that none of the more frightened prisoners try to run or break it makes it seem like they physically cannot. This is why Fuuta sounds so panicked, and why Amane is suddenly helpless in front of Es in their T1 vds.

(My mind conjures very classic sci-fi mad scientist machines with wires, pipes, lights, nodes, needles, etc, but I’d love to hear how other people visualize it.)

In some vds (maybe all? I’d need to check,) you can hear Es take some steps right before their iconic line -- it would make sense that for safety reasons, the power mechanism is placed across the room. Once again it could be anything, but the sound effect makes me think of one of those giant wall-mounted levers you have to pull down.

The voice dramas don’t really provide the type of crime details that an actual interrogation would reveal, and it’s odd that they’re placed before the extraction rather than after Es gets to see the new details. This leads me to believe the machine functions with priming. All Es needs to do is get them talking about their murder, so it’s on their mind.

The video produced is much like a (non-lucid) dream. Even if the prisoners figure out that this is how it works, they can’t control it just by thinking really hard about something else. The murders produce the strongest emotional affect, and that’s what it picks up on. If someone else used the machine, it would default to whatever gave them the strongest emotional reaction in the ~15 minutes beforehand, hence why Es’ video focuses on their daunting task ahead. (The Undercover theory is still a bit loose, though, given the private shots that Es wouldn't have known about). It’s why the videos are usually closely linked to the vd topics/beats. I also like to think that the reason their prisoner colors appear so much is because they’re looking at those colors on their uniform 24/7.

The bell rings to inform Es that it’s the optimal time to use the machine -- the prisoner has been thinking about things for long enough that the video will be about their crime, and if the conversation lasts much longer they’ll start thinking of other things. It’s at a different time for each prisoner because it’s based on the specific conversation. I guess Jackalope is listening in to the interrogation, timing it perfectly. (The only one that kind of messes with this theory is Yonah, because they just keep talking afterwards lol, but it could just show that the interrogation is still in Es’ control.)

Their “Sing your sins” is the final priming nudge to get them to think of their actions as a sin, revealing their guilt.

Once activated, the prisoner enters a sort of trance/sleeping state. It’s very much like REM sleep, with the machine forcibly activating neurons and recording the output. The prisoners have asked Es what they saw, meaning they don’t remember the mvs. I like to think the prisoners do experience the mv in real time, acting as the major version of themself that appears, but can’t remember it afterwards. It’s when you experience a dream, but as soon as you wake up you’re just left with fleeting emotions and memories right on the tip of your tongue.

The video plays immediately upon extraction -- whether on a huge projection or little screen depends on which room it’s in. It simultaneously saves the memory so that Es can rewatch it later (on those old TVs in the jailbreak mix). The machine downloads the song and video together, but requires special parts to retrieve them. The technology is pretty new and fragile, so if one is broken, there might be a delay between when Es can hear the extracted song and see it with the video. (That’s my justification for Kotoko’s delays -- after 9 prisoners the parts wear out, or maybe Mikoto himself overheats it with his complex situation.)

Based on the lack of conversation we get afterwards, I picture Es leaving before the prisoner wakes from the trance. The machine adjusts their brain back to normal before they awaken, restraints freed and able to return to the rest of the prison.

It’s very much like a dream, so it’s not harmful despite the amnesia/head injuries the prisoners have. It does, however, exhaust them. Brain activity alone takes a lot of energy, so forced brain activity with added emotional strain would cause them to feel pretty drained the rest of the day.

[mrs-snape5984]

“I'll meet you on a day that never ends. I'll greet you in a way that heaven meant…”

“I hope you don't break my heart of stone. I don't wanna scream out loud and wake up on my own…” (“Idler’s Dream” by Oasis)

Considering, that I don’t see any way out of the misery, which my life has become since this cruel and inexorable disease ME/CFS has robbed me from being myself, I’ve started to commission some of my beloved artists of Snapedom with a special project of mine. I explained to them, that I’m slowly fading away from my life as well as from other people’s lives. It started two years ago, when this sickness got me into her relentless grip, forcing me to let go of the life, I’ve known before. Losing more and more of my abilities and strengths with each passing day, I’m finding myself in an unstoppable spiral of torments.

Nowadays, I’m not capable of leaving my room and most of the times even my bed anymore. Day in, day out I’m surrounded by darkness, silence and solitude. Participating in social activities, in milestones of my children or even in longer conversations with friends isn’t possible for me anymore. My presence has lost its meaning and purpose.

Whereas my phone didn’t stand still in the beginning of my disease, when friends and colleagues were worried about me…it’s getting more silent now. People are starting to forget about me…and yes, I can absolutely understand them. It must be frustrating to send messages or attempt to call me without getting a proper reply. My former boss told me some weeks ago, that people are feeling speechless about my situation, so it’s easier for them to forget about me…letting me become a faint memory in the back of their heads. This is exactly, what I meant, when I said, that I’m fading away…and it’s okay. I can’t be mad about it. I understand.

It’s also happening here on tumblr…and yet, here are still some kind people, who seem to notice my silence. I was astonished to hear, that my friend @capysnapeart, whom I commissioned for this beautiful artwork of Severus and my highly self-inserted OC Jules, searched me in a sweet post on their blog, after not hearing from me for several days. I was even more dumbfounded, when I realised, that other lovely people of Snapedom had also noticed my absence from my online life. This was very unexpected, but - indeed - touching and heartwarming to me. Thank you for not forgetting about me.

The project, which I’ve commissioned @capysnapeart and some other artists for, should show the different stages of the life, I’m expecting to have after my final breath, which doesn’t seem to be so far away anymore. I’ve set myself a limit…a certain point of no return, at which I won’t be able to accept and endure my pain and my suffering anymore. Well…let’s just leave it like that.

In my imagination, I will be able to choose, how my afterlife will look like. I will be with Severus, the character, I’ve been clinging on for the past 21 years, already. I imagine, that we will meet at the age of 11 years and from then on, we will spend the rest of our lives together...growing old together. It may sound strange and pathetic, but this is all, that I'm wishing for. I want to come home to him...

I asked Capy to draw Severus and Jules as a middle-aged couple…sitting on a bench in front of their little cottage at the sea. I’d love to see them being happy together…finally living the life, they’ve always wanted to live…the life, they’ve deserved to have! They’re cuddling on this wooden bench…feeling like home in themselves.

Capy, my dear friend, I’m beyond grateful for your understanding of my wish for this mesmerising artwork. You’ve managed to capture the peace and the silence of this scenery so perfectly, that it made me shed countless tears of longing. A longing for this fantasy to become true one day, when I will let go of my existence, eventually. Thank you for your talent, your kindness and your acceptance of my ideas. Feel hugged! 🫂🥹

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

[pico-digital-studios]

My personal insight about the state of JD 2025 Edition

Yeah, I've seen all the criticism people have been throwing at the annual pack leading up to its release, though I'm personally feeling there's a special approach they took this year.

It's the 15th anniversary of the Just Dance series as a whole, and of course, Ubisoft are wanting to celebrate this grand occasion in the best way they can, and as such, have tried to create an experience that fans old and new can join in on.

Even with a lack of a Story playlist this year, I'm still okay with that, since a criticism panned at the JD service was that the story songs were taking too much away from the main point of the game; to just dance. Even though this left the Dance with the Swan storyline on a cliffhanger until next year, at least we've still got a bit of lore concerning the start of Night Swan/Leda's fall to darkness, and what led to a painful relationship between mother and son, and the heartbreak the father (the Traveller) experienced when he found out.

As such, pretty much all the songs in 2025 Edition don't have a definitive story going on, despite some drawing from stories from previous years (like Rasputin's last bid to reconnect with the Bride), but it shows that Ubisoft are seeing what's made the games fun for casual audiences; fun songs to dance along to, from varying genres and areas of the world.

I mean, look at all the routines they've done with songs from the Disney Animated Canon, for instance. It's their little way of appealing to whatever demographics they can, which is shown through the SpongeBob's Birthday song (animated in the style of the show, as well!). They've returned to where they can try to appeal to players old and young, fans old and new.

And they thought ahead about two seasonal holidays; Halloween and Christmas, two big points of the year for anyone. The charm of Halloween for the Trick-or-Treaters or those that love a good scare in October's reflected well in "Halloween's Here", and the nostalgia and warming vibe of the "Sleigh Ride" routine also helps appeal to those getting into the festive spirit.

The lack of connected stories this year might be a way to allow new fans to come into the charm of the Just Dance worlds without having to worry about following any major storyline, with a bunch of fun and colourful characters from all backgrounds; neurodivergent (like Epsilon), LGBT (Ari and Grace as examples), animated works (like the aforementioned pair and "Play Date"); all different things people can connect with and enjoy, no matter what side of each they enjoy and are a part of.

Understandably, not all of the songs are for everybody, I'm not denying that, but I'm sure there's at least something in 2025 Edition that can appeal to people in their own ways. Wanna dance to something without a care in the world? Got it right here! Same for if you want to figure out whether or not the Bride and Rasputin will get back together again, or to see Epsilon find themselves as a person.

Heck, the point where the celebration comes full-circle is in "Sunlight", which celebrates how far the series has come since the first game, with the coaches getting costumes based on familiar faces, past routines being referenced, and even the carrot from PoPiPo joining in at one point. And it's not often when we see the behind-the-scenes process captured on-screen, either, with the Ubisoft Paris team applauding the performance.

For me, personally, I'm keeping out of the crazy arguments going on in the fandom (like whether or not JD2018 is the series' black sheep, or whether the reveal of Jack and Wanderlust likely being half-siblings will cause problems for the shippers out there). I'm personally just here to enjoy the Danceverses and the fun I feel whenever I get to dance along to the songs every morning I can to keep active.

I simply hope that someday, 2025 Edition gets a release off the service (even though it's just a pipe dream in this reality), considering the charm it harbours, and the potential it could have separate from being online-only, especially taking into account that the service won't be maintained forever and will eventually have to be shut down. Maybe someday...

[imasimpforshanks]

Heya! Hope you're doing well and having a good day~!

Just wanna request a certain three-swords style swordsman for the fluff alphabet? ;w;

Zoro Fluff Alphabet

a/n: hello! Im doing very well thank you! I hope you are having a lovely lovely day. thank you for requesting <3 i hope you enjoy 🤩

A-Activities (what do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?)

zoro enjoys doing anything in your presence. working out together, drinking together etc. but, his favourite thing is napping together on the deck of the sunny. it’s simple but still allows him to be fully there with you.

B-Beauty (what do they admire about their s/o? what do they think is beautiful about them?)

something zoro really admires about you is your passion for the things and people you love. even more than that, he loves the way your eyes light up - shining like stars - when you talk about the things and people you’re passionate about. it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

C-Comfort (how would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?)

although zoro can be a man of few words, he always knows exactly what to say to make you feel better. he’s not necessarily touchy-feely but he’ll take your hands in his, place a kiss to your forehead and listen/talk as much as you need.

D-Dreams (how do they picture the future with their s/o?)

zoro would never say this aloud but he has woken up - more than once - since meeting you, having had a literal dream about the two of you many years in the future. things aren’t much different from how they are now, you’re living happily together doing what you both love, and having fulfilled your dreams.

E-Equal (are they the dominant one in the relationship or rather passive?)

he’s definitely a more dominant personality, and that extends to your relationship as well. but, it’s not in a toxic way. it’s more in a he balances you out sort of way.

F-Fight (would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?)

very rarely do you and zoro fight. often it’s just light-hearted teases and jokes towards one another that are always followed by laughter or eye rolls.

however, if a serious argument with zoro was to arise he would give the both of you time to cool off afterwards. after that though, he spends the next few hours being around you constantly. he doesn’t do lots of physical affection, it’s more just being around you, spending time with you, and ensuring you’re okay and not still upset about the fight.

G-Gratitude (how grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?)

for the longest time zoro couldn’t quite put a finger on what it was he was feeling. he saw all you were doing for him and all of a sudden he felt this warmth in his chest and a weight off his shoulders. once he realized it was gratitude he was feeling, he made sure he was showing you how grateful he was any chance he could.

H-Honesty (do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?)

zoro doesn’t go out of his way to tell you things but he also doesn’t intentionally hide things from you. with zoro, you simply need to ask and he’ll tell you. he can sometimes use that as an excuse and it can lead to minor arguments: “why didn’t you tell me?” “well you didn’t ask!?”

I-Inspiration (did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?)

you’ve helped each other grow and change for the better. his unwavering loyalty and support of you helped you to become more confident and sure of yourself. and you opened zoro’s mind to other possibilities. you helped him realize that he’s allowed to enjoy and love other things.

J-Jealousy (do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?)

very very rarely does zoro get jealous. he has no need to be. he knows you love him - it’s as simple as that. but… try to limit how much one-on-one time you spend with sanji otherwise zoro will start fights.

K-Kisses (are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?)

your first kiss is also the first and only time you’ve ever seen zoro look so awkward. he actually doesn’t have much previous experience so he wasn’t really sure what to do which is why he never initiated anything. you were the one that had to make the first move and once you do zoro actually gets uncharacteristically flustered.

the first kiss may have been a little awkward and stiff, but zoro is a firm believer in practice makes perfect and it doesn’t take him long to learn what you like!

L-Love confession (how would they confess to their s/o?)

it’s was a complete accident. he didn’t even realize he had felt the way he did. but you were there laughing to yourself about something and he got so caught up in the moment that the words just slipped out. it caught himself off guard just as much as you.

M-Marriage (do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?)

marriage, zoro is open to. a wedding? not so much. the only part of a wedding that piques his interest is the drinking - so just promise him a small wedding with lots of booze.

but, in terms of actually getting proposed to and married, it’s not going to happen till much further down the line.

N-Nicknames (what do they call their s/o?)

he’ll call you babe, or moron (endearingly). zoro likes to keep it nice and simple.

O-On cloud nine (what are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?)

he tries not to be too obvious about his feelings but it’s easy to tell because his behaviour changes slightly. well, it only changes in the smallest of ways meaning you’re the only one that notices; he starts to be around you more than usual, really finding any and every opportunity to be near you.

P-PDA (are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?)

zoro is not a big PDA guy. the most ‘PDA’ he’ll do is holding hands with you, or napping next to you on the deck of the sunny. if your head is in his lap (he might even place a little kiss to the top of your head if he’s feeling risky).

Q-Quirk (some random ability they have that is beneficial in a relationship?)

zoro can open up every single jar in one go. you never have to worry about struggling to open a jar.

R-Romance (how romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?)

if you’re ever expecting huge romantic gestures, think again. zoro’s not that sort of guy. instead, he’s romantic in his own way. he’ll open doors for you, carry your bags, give you advice. all those sorts of things. little romantic gestures that make your heart flutter.

S-Support (are they helping their s/o achieve their goals do they believe in them?)

zoro would rather die than get in the way of someone else’s dream. there isn’t a doubt in his mind that you can achieve your goals. and while he’s there to help you if you need, he believes with every fiber of his being that you can do it all on your own.

T-Thrill (do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship or do they prefer certain routine?)

zoro is pretty content with the way things are. he likes to keep things simple because your lifestyle is pretty interesting enough as it is.

U-Understanding (how good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?)

to others, zoro seems like a big brute who says the first thing that’s on his mind. but, that’s actually not the case. zoro has this uncanny ability where he always knows what to say. he can get a good feel of the situation and immediately knows. oh, and he’s not the type to sugar coat things.

V-Value (how important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?)

at the beginning of your relationship zoro told you that nothing was going to get in the way of his dream of becoming the worlds greatest swordsman. he reminded you that it was the most important thing in his life, and you completely understood. however, over time things changed and he realized he couldn’t be the worlds greatest swordsman if he didn’t have you. that is how important you are to him.

W-Wild card (a random fluff headcanon?)

one time early into your relationship you made a comment about his bandana and how cool it was. days later he gifted you a matching one. he feels his heart grow three times when he sees you with it.

X-XOXO (Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?)

just like he’s romantic in his own way, zoro is also affectionate in his own way. when in front of others it’s linking pinkies, head pats, shoulder bumps and lots of acts of service. but when you two are alone he’s a lot more open with his affection; you’ll find yourself receiving a lot of kisses.

Y-Yearning (how will they cope when they are missing their partner?)

when you’re away zoro works out twice as much. he keeps himself occupied so he doesn’t focus on how much he misses you. he actually sleeps using your pillow when you’re away because it smells like you.

Z-Zeal (are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind?)

zoro would kill for you. he’s the most loyal person you will ever meet. he would do anything and everything for your relationship.

[atopvisenyashill]

Feed my delulu bestie… Sansa & Theon book canon??? Your posts give me hope when I shouldn’t have it lol.

there's so much canon evidence dammit! i always get a lil put out when people say it’s a show only thing. certainly the show made it more popular but you can say that about like 90% of the ships in the fandom! and there’s a lot here already without the obnoxious sansa bolton show arc!

For one thing, theon straight up dreams about marrying sansa-

Sansa was the pretty one. He remembered a time when he had thought that Lord Eddard Stark might marry him to Sansa and claim him for a son, but that had only been a child's fancy.

I think this is very similar to Sansa’s fantasies about Willas Tyrell-

She pictured the two of them sitting together in a garden with puppies in their laps, or listening to a singer strum upon a lute while they floated down the Mander on a pleasure barge. If I give him sons, he may come to love me. She would name them Eddard and Brandon and Rickon, and raise them all to be as valiant as Ser Loras. And to hate Lannisters, too. In Sansa's dreams, her children looked just like the brothers she had lost. Sometimes there was even a girl who looked like Arya.

For both of them, they dream of a marriage that signifies a return to the safety and welcoming of childhood, of home. Notice the focus for both of them on Stark Identity - Theon wants to be accepted as true kin by the family that raised him in an attempt to cope with his status as a hostage while Sansa focuses on the idea of having children named for her lost family members in an attempt to cope with her continued instability also as a hostage.

Which brings me to their shared status as child hostages! While not a unique social status in the world of Terros, they are unique in being our only two PoVs that really dig into the harm of being a hostage. From Theon’s longing to be a Stark and the way it's held against him by Balon to Sansa’s longing to be Joffrey's queen turning to resentment over being “made a Lannister”, both of them go from a sort of rose colored happy go lucky outlook to an extreme drop into brutal reality as Theon reckons with his trauma while sacking Winterfell and Sansa is shoved head first into the danger of politics and intrigue.

As their time as child hostages morphs into a status that is more murky but considerably more dangerous - who knows what the fuck Littlefinger is planning, and whatever Ramsay has cooking it's obviously nothing good - both of them take on another identity in Alayne Stone and Reek. They are both forced into this identity by the person in control of them, becoming subsumed into this new identity. Here is, imo, a very interesting aspect of both their characters as they exhibit a sort of...mental break of a sort when they change identities. They "kill" their old identities and truly become this new person; they act different, they speak different, they actively reject reminders of their former identity, with their chapter names even changing from "Theon" and "Sansa" to their new names. And yet that former identity is a key part of who they are and it cannot stay buried for long-

I am not your daughter, she thought. I am Sansa Stark, Lord Eddard's daughter and Lady Catelyn's, the blood of Winterfell. She did not say it, though.

The old gods, he thought. They know me. They know my name. I was Theon of House Greyjoy. I was a ward of Eddard Stark, a friend and brother to his children. "Please." He fell to his knees. "A sword, that's all I ask. Let me die as Theon, not as Reek."

Again, both Theon and Sansa focus on their connection to House Stark - Sansa as the blood of Winterfell, Theon as a ward of Ned. For Sansa, it’s about going to the home she took for granted, the home Theon years for; a place she felt safe, a family that loves her, a space she can reflect on her memories and grief with peace and understanding. For Theon, that home never existed at all! It was something he made up in his head, cobbled together from half remembered feelings of love from his mother, a dream of what it might have been like to be an older brother and beloved son. Ultimately, Winterfell and the North represents to both of them the concept of reconciling reality with the dream & delusions they’ve built up in their minds, taking a step forward and growing into adulthood.

Now….the thing about adulthood is it typically involves marriage and that is something I think a lot of people don’t take seriously when it comes to Theonsa - oh theon is too gross or whatever. But the thing is that Theon experiences this kind of sexual violence and helplessness that he himself visited upon others and enabled and I think it puts him in this interesting and unique place of finally understanding a) how gross he actually is and b) connecting to Sansa through a shared sexual helplessness. Now I’m not saying like, ~theon being reek’ed was narrative setup and punishment for theonsa~ but i AM saying this is a natural stepping point (imo) of Theon’s arc.

Think about like. Theon looking the other way while his men rape the women he’s captured, uncomfortable but feeling like this is what is necessary to be seen as A Man (and pay no mind to what they means To Be A Woman). Bedding down with the miller’s wife just to enable the very brutal murder of her sons. Taking his frustration and powerlessness out on Kya sexually. And Kya still tries to escape with him (who else could have possibly helped her?), and he dwells on the ways in which he helped lead her to her death. Dwells on the boys whose bodies he hung on the walls. Dwells on the similarities between his own falling apart body and Jeyne’s bite marks and injuries from Ramsay. For me the next step is - Theon forced to see his own helplessness as a hostage of the Starks and then a captive of Ramsay’s when he confronts Sansa, who was a hostage of the Lannisters and [wild gesture] like the kept pet of Littlefinger’s. I think seeing his own suffering so acutely reflected in the girl he projected his idealistic fantasy of happiness and home onto would be fascinating!

And equally fascinating is Sansa’s perspective - I’m sure she WILL initially see his torture as some sort of cosmic retribution for betraying Robb! But the same as she ultimately only saw another child suffering when Joffrey died in front of her, I think she will see that whatever Theon deserves for what he’s done, being flayed and tortured by Ramsay is not retribution, it’s just more suffering. And once she starts to see past her anger, Sansa too I think will be quite disarmed by the similarities between them. To have been a hostage, to have been some sort of captive under an identity forced on you, to have that captor use his power to force sexual situations you are not asking for onto you, I think it would make Sansa wrestle more with her own place In The System - similar to how being a hostage makes her realize how fucked up her conception of knights and chivalry and court is when compared to the reality, seeing the effect she herself helped have as A Good Hostage Taker will make her reflect. Theon realizing Sansa is her own person with her own inner life and Sansa realizing the same about Theon!

Once again, its about what I talked about re: Sansa and Arya being the only Starks left in Winterfell or Sansa and Jon meeting first! To grow up and embrace adulthood by growing to appreciate the reality in front of you and not the fantasy you conjured up as a child. For Theon to love Sansa for who she is and wrestle with the REALITY of what marriage would be like - both in a sense that he’s physically traumatized & no longer “handsome” but also like, having lived through the concept of “They will make a STARK out of me” and thinking about what it means in the context of sex and relationships. For Sansa to love Theon for who he is and wrestle with the reality of, like, herself in the Lannister shoes in this position, and what being an heiress and marrying actually means for her going forward. Two people who are defined by their identities being eclipsed and overlooked, wrestling with whether they’re repeating that pattern on each other or actually healing and grieving and figuring out how to define themselves on their own and not against someone else.

[incorrectlumityquotes]

Nellie and Tater: PRIMOS is an Unbalanced Mess

I know this is a lumity blog, but I wanted to talk about something different that has been bothering me lately and it's that new show, PRIMOS.

Now the show did get a lot of backlash a while back for how stereotypical it looked, and Disney Channel made some changes to save face. Now that it's out, the consensus is...

It's so okay, it's average.

And quite frankly, no one cares. Except my brother who I'm watching the show with. Now, I think the show is meh except for two things:

I HATE the main character, Tater, but I love her younger sister, Nellie.

(Tater on the left; Nellie on the right)

For those of you fortunate enough not to know what PRIMOS is, PRIMOS is the new animated show from Disney Channel about a girl name Tater who wants to have big dreams and achieve her "final form" (they never explain what that means), except her mom invited her twelve cousins to stay at their house for the summer. Easy to understand. Very slice of life comedy-ish.

My problem with the show (besides how it looks) is the main character, Tater. I hate her. I hate her design. I hate her voice. I hate her character. But she's the main character which means she's going to be in every episode and get all the screen time. Tater is also very egocentric. Everything has to be about HER and her "final form" whatever that is. Even in episodes that aren't about her, Tater actively tries to make herself the center of them. Hell, the trailer and first episode end with Tater yelling to the heavens, "BUT THIS SUMMER WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ABOUT ME!"

Nellie, on the other hand, is her taller yet younger sister.

I love Nellie. Her design is better. Her voice is better. Her character is better. She's mischievous, goofy and level-headed. She's learned to tolerate her gaggle of cousins by tuning people out with her headphones, meditating, doing yoga, and making snarky comments to take people down a peg.

The problem is that Nellie doesn't appear in every episode. Despite being the main character's younger sister, there are some episodes where she's not even mentioned.

At first, this doesn't seem like a big deal. I'm not an idiot. I'm not gonna complain that a secondary character is secondary. But then I saw two episodes: Summer of La Trabajadora and Summer of La Madriguera.

In Summer of La Trabajadora, the episode starts with all the primos at a pizzeria for "primo pizza hour." And Nellie isn't there. She's not even mentioned. They give no reason for her not being there. I guess it would have cost too much to draw her in the background? Her actress costs too much?

Then Summer of La Madriguera, which actually needs a little bit of context. In the second episode of PRIMOS, Tater was afraid the primos were going to completely take over her room. But the primos built Tater her own special "Tater's corner," so she can have her privacy. In Summer of La Madriguera, Tater finds a secret spot in the attic she can use as a hideaway, but Nellie discovers it. Tater doesn't want Nellie to tell any of the primos about it, and Nellie agrees because sometimes you need time alone to recharge. And then Nellie says this:

"I get it. That's why I meditate. I mean, none of the primos made me a special corner."

Wow. Puts a whole new spin on all the episodes that don't have Nellie in them. So now do I not only like Nellie as a character, but I sympathize with her too. As confident and aloof as she is, she does feel left out by Tater and the primos.

Which confuses me.

The creator based Tater off herself, so she's a self-insert creator's pet. We're supposed to like Tater more than any of the other characters because she's the main character. So why make Nellie more sympathetic? We're supposed to care more about Tater's "final form" (whatever that is) than a little girl being ignored in her own family? Fucking...no?

All of this reaches its boiling point in the episode Summer of Imi-Tater.

The episode starts with NELLIE narrating. We get some visual metaphors that I have to describe to you because I don't have screenshots. We'll miss you, KimCartoon.

Nellie sees herself as the Earth (makes sense) and Tater is represented by a sun that never shuts the fuck up. The primos are represented by the other planets and you can guess where this is going.

After that, we see Nellie and the primos watching TV with Nellie riffing (or mst3k-ing if you're old school) the shows and the primos getting a good laugh. They're all having a good time before Tater shows up to make herself the center of attention again. Nellie correctly predicts that Tater has some dumb idea about her final form but need the primos' help. Apparently, Tater needs money for a reason we never learn, and Nellie suggests selling lemonade. Tater then scolds Nellie for interrupting her and then suggests selling lemonade. The primos go wild for Tater's idea...even though Nellie just suggested it not even thirty seconds ago.

Nellie tries to mediate and have tea, but she can't help it this time. She's angry. And she decides to get back at Tater by becoming Tater 2.0 and making her own lemonade stand.

Nellie becomes "Tater 2.0" and is an instant success with her lemonade stand, showing up Tater and winning control of the primos. She even gets a song that is a total bop...and is kinda sad when you pay attention to the lyrics.

"Nellie see you later/cause I'm tater 2.0"

She thinks she has to be a better Tater just to get some attention because no one cared about Nellie being Nellie.

And of course, Tater, being the egocentric gremlin that she is, can't handle it.

Nellie considers this a win...until the primos all comfort Tater. Even when Nellie wins, it has to be about Tater. Nellie decides to prove her point even further by taking over Tater's failed lemonade stand, but goes too far when she reads part of Tater's diary out loud. Nellie threatens to destroy Tater's diary, but when the primos try to talk her down, Nellie loses it. She just screams:

"Tater! Tater! Tater! What about ME?!?!"

And I get it. Usually, Nellie can handle herself but this has been building since the series started. Humans are social creatures and everybody likes attention, at least every once in a while. Nellie was cool just chilling with the primos, but it felt like they dumped her every time Tater had some dumb idea. The didn't even miss her in primo pizza hour. Tater shooting down her idea and then taking credit for it was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Nellie realizes that she was burying her anger instead of dealing with it and talks to Tater. And then I hate the episode again because Tater makes it about herself again. Tater shows that she has a "Nellie Index" in her diary and that when Tater wins the Nobel Prize, she'll be sure to thank Nellie during her acceptance speech.

First of all, fuck you. Second, this isn't good enough for me. This ending doesn't resolve any of the issues brought up. It doesn't resolve or explain why the primos ignore or straight up forget Nellie. It doesn't show why we should prefer Tater over Nellie. It barely resolves Nellie burying her feelings. So it brings up the question, why do this? Why make an episode that shows your main character being a jerk to a close family member and then handwaving a resolution?

My theory is that when creators have their super-special-OC-don't-steal, they have blinders on that prevents them from seeing how bad their characters actually are. Like Mike and Bryan about Aang from Avatar the Last Airbender. Aang did some bad things, but Mike and Bryan don't see them as bad, just little character flaws to grow out of. Here I thought consent was cool, but whatever.

I like this episode and I don't like this episode. It's an unbalanced mess that has the moral and the focus in the wrong place. I love Nellie more and hate Tater more. The problem is I know that the show intended for the opposite to happen, and that's not a good sign.

Later, hater!

[dreaminonao3]

"how did this happen?" - Alastor/Charlie

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Triggers/Warnings: None

Rating: T

How Did This Happen? (AO3)

“How did this happen?”

The mirror had no more answers than he did. All it could show him was what he already knew – the deep diagonal slash across his chest. It was healing, slowly, and would certainly leave a new scar to add to his collection.

It happened because you got too confident. You thought you could take on Adam and win even though he was much more powerful. Instead of “How,” a better question is “Why?” Why did this happen?

He hung his head, his hands gripping the sides of the sink. It happened because of Charlie. As he was the heaviest hitter in the Hotel, she had asked him to be the one to face Adam.

It had almost killed him.

Was she worth it? Was her dream worth it?

*

How did this happen?

It was their weekly discussion of how the Hotel was running. (Smoothly as ever, of course, thanks to his expertise.) They’d had this same conversation since the hotel’s rebuilding, going on six months now. This time, though, something was different.

He wasn’t sure if the change was in her or him but something about her laugh made his heart lighten. Something about her smile made his stomach do a little flip. Something about her eyes meeting his made his breath catch.

Charlie was having an effect on him. She was a distraction.

A weakness.

Something his enemies could exploit if they knew.

He should stop.

He should leave.

Charlie chose that moment to start humming to herself as she worked on her plans for the next day’s group activity. She had no idea how adorable she was and he melted.

How could he leave?

*

How did this happen?

He ignored the text from Lucifer. His phone, a gift from Charlie, wasn’t the center of his life, therefore it was easy to pretend he never saw texts he didn’t like. At least the man decided to not confront me in person. Can’t have a scene in front of my newly-minted fiancée.

Of course, the King of Hell wasn’t the only person asking that question. Everyone wanted to know how they got together, Angel Dust being the only exception.

“Eh, it was inevitable,” he said after their engagement was announced. “She wants ta redeem everyone, he’s the ultimate sinner. He’s her passion project.”

The question was, of course, whether she would succeed in making a Winner out of him. While he had no doubts about Charlie’s abilities, he had plenty of doubts about himself.

Still, she believed in him, even after everything. It was something he could build an afterlife on.

*

“How did this happen?”

Charlie giggled. “When two demons love each other very much…”

He stared down at the pregnancy test wand in his hands. It was unmistakably positive. He was unmistakably fucked.

“Hey,” she said softly as she relieved him of the pregnancy wand then took his hands, her big eyes gazing up at him. “Stop imagining the worst.”

He raised an eyebrow. “When did you become a mind reader?”

“When I realized that you are really good at putting up a brave, scary front when you’re terrified. We can do this.”

He sighed heavily. “My father was anything but a role model.”

“My parents are far from perfect but we can both be better than all of them. We have each other and a Hotel full of people I’m sure will be happy to help.” She released his hands to wrap her arms around his waist. “It’ll be fun, Alastor.”

“‘Fun?’” he echoed in utter disbelief. “It’s the most important role either of us could possibly undertake.”

She smirked. “I don’t know, I’d say you’ve handled ‘husband’ and ‘lover’ pretty well so far. Why should ‘father’ be any different?”

He chuckled, his body finally relaxing. “How do you always know the right thing to say?”

“It’s a gift.”

His smile softened. “No, you’re the gift.”

She beamed at him then her smile turned seductive. “To answer your question, I could give you a demonstration, if you’ll allow it.”

He grinned at her. “But of course.”

[aihoshiino]

chapter 150 thoughts!

Chapters Since The 143 Kiss Happened And Went Entirely Unacknowledged And Unaddressed Count: 7…. ttttttechnically? they don't actually mention that the kiss happened, so i'm counting it…

ladies, gentlemen and those who know better, our long national nightmare is finally over

after… literally I've lost count of how long it's been since we had some proper Aqua introspection, our landmark chapter 150 is almost entirely dedicated to putting us back in Aqua's head (quite literally!) and sort of catching up with him. Some things about Aqua that have been mostly only communicated through showing over telling are explicitly told in text and i'm ngl, there's one or two things where seeing textual confirmation of them got me barking like a fucking dog. Overall, while the pacing of the start of this arc has been bit clunky and this chapter itself isn't free of that either, it actually feels like things are moving and meaningful characterization is happening which after the Movie Arc is a bit of a luxury lol.

As usual, I want to gush about Mengo's art before I touch on anything else. Setting the majority of this chapter in a dream sequence allowed her to do some incredibly fun things with the staging and imagery here. Aqua in that eerie void with his feet drenched in blood… Aqua and Gorou still stuck in that hallway where Ai died, while Ruby has managed to take steps to leave… It's so fucking good.

There were some absolutely top tier Kanas this chapter, too… her little baby tantrum in flashback and that gorgeous final page of her… But I'm getting ahead of myself.

While I described this chapter up top as being communicating things about Aqua, it very much feels to me like it's also serving as closure for Gorou, both in the sense of him as a person and resolving the posthumous arc that he's been going on as part of Aqua. This chapter at last draws a clear and explicit distinction between the two, that Aqua is no longer Gorou, even if he might have been built on the foundation of his identity. Gorou is even described as a 'role' that Aqua has been compelled to play that Gorou himself is now urging him to step down from - he is offering to relinquish Aqua's future back to him… if that's what Aqua wants.

This was how I'd initially read the relationship back in my 143 review - that 'Aqua Hoshino' created from Gorou, his core values and driving ideals, but 18+ years of living a whole new life in a whole new social role, meeting people and having experiences Gorou would never have and literally having a different body and brain in the process have made him different and the sum total of those differences is the person we call Aqua Hoshino. This chapter seems to lean into this interpretation, casting them as a pair of briefly intersecting lines that once crossed but have now diverged onto their own paths.

I also just really liked the dynamic that they were shown to have this chapter. Whenever we've seen this conflict externalized in the past, Gorou has always been this frightening, overwhelming presence whose existence actively prevents Aqua from having any kind of happiness or peace. Here, though, they have a much less adversarial energy, which is a really nice reflection of Aqua being able to gradually start pulling himself out of the shit he's been stuck in. Gorou almost feels fatherly or big brotherly here, not just in how he behaves in regards to Sarina-as-Ruby, but for Aqua, too.

But……….. okay, I'll stop dodging around the elephant in the room now lol

After over 25 chapters of very deliberately avoiding putting us in his headspace, 150 finally puts the ball in Aqua's court vis-a-vis the AquRuby tension and he answers in a way I think would be pretty hard to walk back: That Ruby is his precious sister and that's it. That her feelings for him are the result of her projecting Gorou onto him, chasing a ghost that is fading from this world and that she does not actually love him. Whoof.

This was another thing where seeing it in text felt pretty great. I'd caught pretty early on that there was a weird divide in the way the story was handling the AquRuby dynamic - namely, that there wasn't an AquRuby dynamic and all the supposed ship development of it was largely happening in retrospect, beefing up the intensity of the GRSR relationship and having Ruby express her feelings to Gorou-through-Aqua. When the idea of Aqua and Ruby romance was floated, by contrast, it was always treated like a gag. With the Movie arc being as much of a mess as it was, it was hard to work out what the intentionality of that was (if there was any to begin with) but this seems to make it about as clear as it can be: neither Gorou or Aqua have any had any feelings of that sort of Sarina-through-Ruby and neither of them want to pursue romance with them.

Once again tapping into my powers of Claire-voyance, I already know a lot of people are trying to insist that this is Aqua lying to himself or 'settling' and that he does secretly want a relationship with Ruby for reals! but that really isn't how it comes across to me in the art. He's calm, speaks straightforwardly and without hesitation and makes his point pretty clear. We know how it looks when OnK character lie to themselves and this isn't really it. It would also just be strange for that to be the case when this is a scene about Aqua starting to consider the idea of moving past the things that hurt him and live out his future with someone.

And who that someone is… seems to be coming into focus, but I don't think we'll be getting there quite yet.

I will say that for as much as I liked this as a chapter and as a goodbye for Gorou… it kind of doesn't really make a lot of sense as a resolution for his guilt lol. This chapter frames things in such a way that centers his guilt on Sarina and that seeing her live her life as Ruby has given him some catharsis over it. This is a sweet idea but… that's, uh, not how this was framed anytime prior! When we've seen Gorou intrude on Aqua's happiness before, his self hate and his guilt all center on Ai's death and his inability to save her. The last time we saw him in this capacity in 95, that's what he was saying with his whole chest: that he deserves to suffer as punishment for Ai's suffering, Ai's death. I'm sure that knowing Sarina is living on as Ruby was very cathartic but… it has nothing to do with Ai! Why is this being framed as narratively resolved in this way?

Like… if I chew on it a bit, I can make it make sense: since chapter 1, Gorou has been pretty open about projecting Sarina onto Ai, processing his grief that way and imagining her living vicariously through Ai's success. The idea of Ruby doing the same by continuing Ai's legacy and keeping her radiance alive being the thing that gives him release over Ai's death is interesting and I can understand it emotionally, it just feels like a weird unexplained leap for the narrative to make. I was talking to a friend about it, trying to work it out by externalizing it, and they theorized that this was always the intended endpoint of Gorou's posthumous arc but that the story had drifted in the middle section and Akasaka hadn't quite realigned them. This makes a lot of sense to me and I wouldn't be surprised if it was the case.

I will say that it really bugs me. I've already talked about the ways Ai's importance to the twins as their mother has been gradually downplayed and diluted as the Movie Arc has gone on. In my original post, I attributed this to Akasaka trying to amp up the intensity of the GRSR -> AQRB relationship in a soap opera-y sort of way, but given that this chapter seems to shut down AquRuby, I don't really know if that's the case. In general, Ai has been treated as sort of narratively 'resolved' as of 137, as if that chapter was the capstone to her posthumous character arc and while that might be the case for Ruby… I really don't think it is for Aqua!

It's possible that this is intentional. Aqua still has a shitton of work to do on unfucking his relationship with Ai and the ways his view of her, as implied by the Movie Arc, is warped by his grief. I could see this final stretch of the story being primarily about that - after all, this chapter is about confronting Aqua with the binary choice of revenge or love. In a lot of ways, this has always been what he's struggling with but putting the ball this firmly in his court establishes Ai's death entirely as his own trauma that he has to work through on his own. After all, Aqua might have confronted Gorou in this chapter, but there's a certain someone we also saw in chapter 95 that Aqua hasn't dealt with yet…

I'm talking about Kana, obviously! (ducks thrown tomatoes)

I don't have a ton to say about the AQKN romance setup in this chapter other than… yeah, I kinda saw this coming! It's interesting to see Gorou, the representation of Aqua's guilt and self destruction, be the one to so directly confront him and push him towards trying to find some happiness with her. Aqua quietly noting that he knows the things he likes about Kana and he knows that moving on with her makes a lot of sense - but what makes this especially interesting is the way it mirrors Kana's own reflection on her relationship with Aqua at the end of the chapter.

I like that a lot of the AQKN moments the two reflect on are just… mundane, everyday instances of the two of them stumbling through life together. I've seen a lot of people say AQKN is 'boring' or 'flat' because it lacks the drama of AQAK or AQRB but honestly, I feel like this is what makes it work (when it does work) - their relationship, whatever form it takes, is a safe and quiet space where they can just exist outside the drama and transactional utility of so many of their other relationships.

That said, while those montages mirror each other, what makes them interesting is their divergence point. Kana decides to commit to choosing 'love', with that absolutely gorgeous full page panel, but Gorou hands the knife - the symbol of the violence that blighted Aqua's life - back to him and makes it clear that love or revenge, the choice is now entirely in Aqua's hands. We don't see what he chooses, but… if Oshi no Ko really is a story with a happy ending, I think it's a foregone conclusion. And that makes me really happy.

Not that it's happening anytime soon, lol. I'll be very shocked if Kana's confession doesn't result in a rejection from Aqua, at least at this point in time - there's too much else going on in the story for this to be the right place for Aqua to commit to Kana. She's still an idol, after all and Kamiki is still around. The bets I'm placing right now are that AQKN are going to get their resolution, whatever form it takes, at the Dome concert during or after Kana's graduation.

As for their date… Call me cynical, but I also don't see it going particularly well. After all…

Aren't we forgetting somebody?

[thyshadowwriter]

hiii can i req ubbe getting jealous (in a cute way) when you are giving attention to someone else? like with pouts and stuff... thank uuu ♡

A/n: Thank you! We love fluff (and a bit of jealousy) in this house Not me writing something completely different at first lol

Being married to Ubbe was like living a dream. He was absolutely gorgeous, easily the most handsome man you ever saw, but that was just a part of him; He always treated you with love and care, completely unbothered to show his affection in public and perhaps a bit too comfortable.

If you had to point out a flaw, it would be his jealousy. It was not very pronounced, but it at times showed its head, even if he was lovely about it. It puzzled the mind as to why Ubbe would think he had any reason to be jealous, but he did. You never actively tried to stoke his jealousy, but it happened nonetheless.

Kattegat was in a festive mood, summer arrived and the celebrations were at their peak. People were happy, and there was plenty to be distracted. So you left Ubbe to his brothers and their pet peeves and went to catch up with your friends, hearing their stories and gossip, not really paying attention to whatever else was going on. Normally you would talk for a while with others then go back to Ubbe, but the conversation was actually fun and being away from the Ragnarssons drama was good too.

You looked around and met with your husband's gaze. He was with his brothers, who were on their own antics, but he paid them no mind, he was interested in you and gestured for you to come over. You smiled at him, but continued where you were. You still wanted to stay with your group a while more.

A while turned into an hour and Ubbe came to you, though you didn’t see where from. For a man his size, he sure knew how to be quiet as a cat and your friends seemed as surprised and mildly scared. His presence alone silenced your friends, even though he didn’t even bother looking at them.

“Come sit with me?”

“Soon, my love. I want to talk with my friends a little longer.”

He said nothing, gave an annoyed look to your friends and walked away to his seat. 

One of your friends asked you, looking just a little paler than before:

“Does your husband not like us?”

“What? No! It’s just his brothers.”

They didn't seem very convinced, but you continued talking nonetheless. For how long you didn't know but at some point one of your friends pointed out the prince's less then entertained expression.

When you looked at Ubbe you instantly noticed his mood was sour. His head was thrown back and he was staring directly at you with tight lips and wide eyes, nursing his mug of ale but not actually drinking any of it. For such an outstanding warrior, he sure had a flair for the drama and it was clear he was not enjoying being ignored.

The only thing that made him look away with a roll of his eyes was something Ivar said to Sigurd that apparently was outrageous enough to make him drink his ale in one gulp and shut both of them up. Usually, Ubbe would be more patient with his brothers, but when he was jealous, his patience was notably short.

You excused yourself from your friends and went to your husband, who turned his full attention to you.

“Ubbe.”

He tilted his head, looking at you accusatory with those clear blue eyes that never hid what he was feeling. His lips were shut tight, he was annoyed, but it was hard to take him seriously when his annoyance made his lips unintentionally make a pout that you couldn’t help but lean down to kiss it away.

He welcomed the light kiss, but was still very much annoyed.

“You remember you have a husband.”

“Don’t be like that. I was just talking with my friends.”

“I know. For the entire day. I thought you might spend the entire night with them as well.”

“Oh, no. That I wanted to spend with you alone.”

The thought didn’t fail to better his mood, making him smile and the corner of his eyes crinkle a bit.

“Are you mad at me?” You asked him.

Ubbe, instead of answering, put his mug on the table and reached his hand to you. You took his hand and he pulled you close, for a kiss you though, but before your face could be close to his, he picked you up and sat you on his lap, holding you in place with a tight grip in one hand and taking his mug back with the other. Back to his serene expression like he made no effort at all, resting his hand on your lap.

“I can’t be mad at you. I can be mad at your friends.”

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: How To Rediscover Yourself, Set Boundaries, & Master Interpersonal Conflict

The beginning of a new year marks a prime time for self-reflection and resetting our intentions. Take some time and use this post as a guide to self-assess your purpose, goals, desired self-concept, and boundaries to bring confidence and self-love into 2023.

Ways To Discover Your "Why":

Start by checking out my guide on Self-Discovery & Mastering Personal Branding and doing the linked exercise (more tips here) to uncover your 'Dream Girl Archetype.'

Tips On Setting/Upholding Boundaries:

Make it about you and never about them.

Know the difference between boundaries and expectations: A boundary is about you and how you will respond to another person's actions. An expectation is the way you expect others to conduct themselves (at least in your presence/relationship). Gently bring up the behavior or actions that bother or trigger you. Communicate your boundary to them when it comes to these conversation topics or behaviors. Say "when you talk about "X" topic or do "X" behavior, I feel uncomfortable/stressed/upset and need to remove myself from the conversation (either physically, hang up the phone, stop answering texts), etc. If they're well-meaning friends, family members, partners, etc., they will respect your boundaries and know that there's an expectation in your relationship for these topics/behaviors to not come up and, if they do, be apologized for and corrected immediately (humans slip up occasionally; you will know the difference between disregard for your well-being and an honest mistake by their reaction to your calling them out).

Always use "I" statements to communicate your needs and requests: Telling people what they're doing wrong instead of how their actions make them feel automatically puts others in defense mode. So, always make sure to describe the exact words/actions/behaviors that are bothering you and how these situations make you feel. Don't personalize these actions – unless you want a negative reaction from the other person (you don't).

Make time for self-care: It's true that you can only be fully present for others when you fill up your own cup and have your needs met first. Otherwise, you're only showing up as a fraction of the person you can and strive to be. Spend time alone. Take long showers and walks. Read books, journal, draw, meditate, and watch your favorite movies or TV shows. Eat healthy meals and work out. Focus on your goals and activities that make you feel good no matter what or who else is trying to enter your mind at any time.

How To Approach Conflict:

Ask for permission to bring up a conflict: Allow the other person to consent to a less comfortable conversation. Depending on the situation, feel free to assertively ask: "X statement made me uncomfortable/offended. Can we discuss this topic/how I'm feeling for a moment?" If someone is overstepping a boundary/trying to push your limits, just say: "Hey, that statement/action crossed X boundary. I [insert boundary]. If X boundary is crossed again, I'll need to remove myself from this conversation/leave/hang up/etc. "

Always approach conflict with "I" statements: Make standing up for yourself about just that – standing up for YOURSELF. Share how you feel and why certain behaviors make you feel comfortable. Don't use language that leads with a "you" statement. Make the conversation about asserting your own needs, not the other person's actions – this will only escalate a conflict and make someone else feel attacked.

Guide your conversations using someone's behaviors/actions, and never attack someone's character during a conflict or a disagreeable conversation: (e.g. Say something like "When you say things about X group of people or topic, I get very uncomfortable or angry." You can elaborate with a reason if you feel it's necessary, but your feelings are complete and valid on their own. Don't say: "You're a close-minded/rude/unappreciative person, etc," even if you have their past actions to back this statement up. It's not a good look.)

Seek to understand, not win in conversations: Unless the person, is hostile or deliberately trying to provoke you/upset you, listen to the other person to understand their perspective before speaking. Ask them why they said an uncomfortable/offensive statement or did a certain action that left you with negative emotions. Seeing where the other person is coming from helps you better communicate with the person in the context of the situation and minimizes the chances of a conflict. In the worst-case scenario, entering these less comfortable conversations with this intention will make you appear as a mature and respected person – both to yourself and others – and keeps you in a calmer state, so you're more careful with your words and less likely to say something you regret.

[matttgirlies]

Matt & Me🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - small mention of drug use

y/nn = your nickname in case your confused🩷

Chapter 6

It was after three o’clock the next afternoon when Matt called. “Alan’s on his way to pick you up,” he said. Alan Smith was another of his employees.

When we arrived at Matt’s house, I found him upstairs dressing. As soon as he saw me, he kissed me and asked, “How would you like to go to Las Vegas? We could really have fun and I could show you around my favorite places.” Not understanding his contradiction regarding my staying with the Barrises the night before, and feeling uneasy asking any questions, I answered, “I’d love to. When?”

“Tonight. We’ll load up the bus and head out about midnight, arrive in the morning, sleep all day, and see the shows and party all night.”

Excitement was in the air—Las Vegas. I’d never dreamed of going there and I really didn’t know what to expect. Actually, I really didn’t care where we went as long as I was with him.

I had two immediate concerns. One, I didn’t know if I could afford—or at my age should even wear—the glamorous clothes suitable for Vegas, but Matt said not to worry, Alan would take me shopping that afternoon.

It was a strange experience, shopping with someone I barely knew, particularly a man. He seemed as uncomfortable as I but assured me we would find something. He was familiar with all of the boutiques and took me to Saks Fifth Avenue as well.

As I selected a couple of outfits I worried about my other concern: the promised daily letter to my parents. How would I explain Las Vegas postmarks? I couldn’t. But I could prewrite letters for the time we were gone, number them one through seven, and have Arnold mail them from Los Angeles daily. My problems were solved. On to Las Vegas!

That evening Matt’s front lawn was alive with activity. There seemed to be people everywhere. The huge bus that George Barris had custom-designed for Matt stood in the driveway. The guys streamed in and out of it, loading suitcases, records, a stereo system, and cases of Pepsi-Cola. All the preparations and excitement made it look as if Matt were moving out, but in fact he always traveled this way. He was still uneasy about flying—a fear he later conquered—and felt much more relaxed driving. Because we didn’t know how long we’d stay, Alan and Gene Smith brought along whatever Matt enjoyed, so he would feel as comfortable as if he were at home. I was happy. It was the first time we’d be together without restrictions or curfews.

Just before midnight, they all gathered around the big bus; it was time to say goodbye to any visitors the regulars were leaving behind.

Matt was dressed in a white shirt, black pants, black racing gloves, and his everpresent yachting cap. As we pulled away, he yelled out the window, “We shall return,” and we hit the highway for Las Vegas, Nevada. I didn’t know what I was headed for, but I loved the idea of adventure.

And I felt proud; there was Gene to my right, me in the center, and Matt driving. I learned that Matt always preferred driving at night; it was cooler and there was less traffic. He came alive at night. There was a big difference between the daytime Matt and the nocturnal Matt. When the sun went down another personality took over, and on this particular night he was in great form. On a break between films, away from Colonel William, free of pressures and responsibilities, he could relax and play.

On the way to Vegas we all listened to music, nibbled on snacks, and drank Pepsis. In the front seat, Matt and Gene joked in their own language. Matt would say something and Gene would reply with completely made up words. When conversation lagged, they engaged in surprise attacks, punching each other. If Gene thought he’d landed a good one, he’d take off running toward the back of the bus, aware that Matt could always pull over and chase him.

These antics continued throughout most of the exhausting drive across the desert. I felt out of sync with the private jokes and crazy high jinks. It was quite obvious that the boys picked up on Matt’s every mood. I did not yet fit in.

Las Vegas

We arrived in Las Vegas around seven in the morning. I was tired and falling asleep when Matt called out, “We’re comin’ into Vegas. Look around—all you see is hotels. It’s called Sin City. Isn’t that right, Smiff?” Gene mumbled one of his silly replies and Matt laughed as usual.

The Strip looked quiet. There were a lot of taxis, some cars, and a few tired people strolling along the streets. I noticed it was extremely hot for 7 a.m., especially since it was only June.

We checked into the Sahara Hotel and to my amazement, despite the early hour, people were everywhere. Matt pointed to the casino, noisy with the rhythmic sounds of the slot machines, the sporadic ringing of bells, and an occasional yell from the craps tables.

“Is this normal?” I asked Matt.

“Honey, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet. Wait till tonight,” he replied.

That wouldn’t be easy. Despite being tired, I stood fascinated, watching the gamblers clustered at the various tables and the slot machines. Matt took my arm. “Come on, Baby. Let’s go up to the room. There’ll be plenty of time for this later. We better get some rest.”

We followed the bellboy to the suite, and the entourage efficiently began arranging the rooms to Matt’s liking. They unpacked his clothes, placing them neatly in his closet, lining up his shoes by color, and setting out his toiletries in the bathroom. In the living room, they set up his record player and speakers, lowered the lights to create the right atmosphere, and turned on all the television sets.

“Why do you always have the TV on?” I asked Matt.

“It keeps me company,” he said. “When it’s on, I feel like there are people around.”

He despised entering a quiet room, and soon I too adopted the habit of automatically turning on the TV whenever I walked into a room.

An hour later the assistants had the suite looking lived in, with everything in its proper place. Matt said good night to the boys and cautioned them not to wake us too early. He locked the bedroom door and got undressed and into bed. As I climbed in beside him, I noticed that he was taking a number of prescribed sleeping pills, but I didn’t pay much attention to them. I wasn’t knowledgeable enough even to suspect any potential threat.

I lay there blissfully happy: Finally we were able to spend an entire night sleeping together.

Matt was looking at me. “Do you believe this, Baby? After all this time, here you are. Who’d ever have thought we’d pull this off? Let’s not even think about you going back. We’ll have a good time. We’ll think about the other when the time comes.”

His words were starting to slur. His reactions slowed down. He pulled me closer and told me, again and again, “I’m glad you’re here  . . .” And then—silence. I looked over at the bottles of pills near the bed and realized I still had competition.

When I awoke the next afternoon, I looked over at Matt and snuggled against him as closely as I could. He put his arms around me, holding me as he slept. I studied his eyebrows, his long black eyelashes, his perfect nose, and his beautiful, full mouth. After a while I ached from lying in the same position but I didn’t move; it might wake him.

I thought about the pills he had taken earlier. They mystified me but I felt Matt must know what was best for him and I decided to put the matter out of my mind.

He must have sensed that I was staring at him; he suddenly opened his eyes and started to laugh. “What are you doing? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were putting a hex on me.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” I said, embarrassed that he’d caught me studying him. “I guess I’m too excited.”

Sitting up, he said, “Well, Little Girl, the first thing I need is a cup of black coffee. Press number four on the intercom and tell Billy to order us some breakfast. He knows what I like and just tell him what you want. Tell him to have it here in half an hour and to make sure the coffee’s hot.”

Getting out of bed, he flipped on the TV and walked into the bathroom. A moment later he stuck out his head and grinned. “Get dressed, Little One, I want to show you off a little.”

That was all I needed to hear. I jumped out of bed and ran into my bathroom to get ready. As I dressed in a casual summer outfit I could hear music coming from the living room. I cracked open the adjoining door and was surprised to see all the boys up and dressed, with breakfast set up on the dining-room table.

I finished combing my hair and walked out to the living room, where the guys greeted me with friendly smiles and hellos. Matt wasn’t there yet, so no one had begun eating. Everyone was pretty quiet. Although it was after four in the afternoon, it seemed like early morning.

About fifteen minutes later, Matt came into the room, all dressed up in a three-piece suit, and I realized that nothing in my wardrobe was suitable. He walked over to the stereo and put on his latest record, saying he’d just finished a recording session and wanted me to hear the songs. Then we all sat down for breakfast.

It was fun hearing his recordings before they were released to the public. He asked me what I thought of each song, and since I knew what the kids back in Europe were listening to, I felt my comments might be helpful. At least I wanted to believe they were. “I really like the fast-paced ones,” I said, “like ‘Jailhouse Rock.’ Why don’t you record more songs like that? These don’t seem as much like rock and roll as your earlier records.”

Matt shot me a look of such pure disgust that I was petrified. “Goddamn it,” he snapped. “I didn’t ask for your opinion on what style I should sing. I asked if you like the songs, that’s all—yes or no. I get enough amateur opinions as it is. I don’t need another one.” He got up and stalked into the bedroom and slammed the door. Trying to regain my composure, I fought back tears. I was embarrassed and confused. What was wrong with what I’d said? How could that upset him so?

Luckily, the boys had already left the table and were all doing odd jobs or were in another room. I didn’t know if any of them had heard Matt’s tirade, but I didn’t want to face them. I knew Matt had a temper—I had witnessed it in Germany—but never before had he directed it at me.

Slowly I rose from the table, wondering where to go. Matt’s bedroom door was still tightly shut and, although I was sharing his room, I hesitated to go in for fear he’d start yelling. Not knowing what else to do, I sat down next to the albums and started going through them, pretending to look interested. Soon I heard the bedroom door open and saw Matt standing in the doorway. He motioned to me to come over. Reluctantly, I put back the records and walked into the room, fearful of what he was going to say. He closed the door, sat me down on the edge of the bed, and—to my surprise—began to apologize: “I’m sorry, Baby. What happened before really had nothing to do with you. I just finished that recording session and it’s pretty damn good compared to what they usually want me to do for these movies.”

He talked more about his last film, the story line, the songs, the dialogue, all of which he thought were inane. _ I was beginning to understand some of his frustrations and dissatisfaction. I remembered our talks in Germany. Matt had been proud of his film accomplishments before entering the Army. He had talked hopefully about doing movies with more substance and fewer songs.

“y/nn, from now on I plan to keep my singing career and my acting career strictly separate.” He believed he was capable of performing more demanding roles than he was getting, and to prepare himself, he still studied certain actors whom he admired, such as James Dean in Giant and Marlon Brando in On the Waterfront and The Wild One.

“But I keep getting offered the same musicals, same story lines,” he complained, “and they’re getting worse and worse.”

His biggest problem was that these films and their soundtrack albums were always huge hits.

Shaking off his serious mood, he grabbed my hand and said, “Come on, Baby, we’re goin’ shopping.” This was Matt’s way of making up for his outburst, but it took me a little while to get over it. Forcing an enthusiastic smile, I went along. I was beginning to understand how everyone’s mood played off Matt.

Taking Gene and Alan with us, we jumped into a waiting limo and rode around until Matt spotted a boutique where glamorous gowns made of sequins, lace, and frills graced the beautiful mannequins in the window. He called out to the driver, “Let’s stop here.”

Taking my hand, he led me inside, followed by the entire entourage, surely the most unlikely band of characters ever to invade an elegant dress shop. The salesgirl was speechless.

“Hello, ma’am. I’m Matt Sturniolo and we’re just looking around. Maybe you could show us something that might interest my little friend over there.”

They both looked over at me. The look on the clerk’s face told me we were thinking the same thing: These clothes were far too sophisticated for such a young girl. But when Matt saw something he liked, he didn’t think in terms of age. While the saleswoman went to the back to rummage around for whatever she had in sizes six and four, Matt was rifling through the racks, pulling out a number of dazzling creations, asking me which ones I liked.

“They’re all beautiful,” I said. “I just don’t know how I’d look in them.”

“You let me be the judge of that,” he said, winking at Gene, who mumbled one of his made up words. We all dissolved into fits of laughter that brought the shopgirl rushing back with a huge selection of dresses. Matt designated his preferences and said, “Try them on. And pick out any others you like.”

Thrilled, I chose a half-dozen gowns with matching shoes and headed for the dressing room. The salesgirl followed. Away from Matt’s eyes she treated me like a little kid, but I was so enchanted with the clothes that I didn’t care.

As I posed in front of the mirror in a long black jersey gown and a pair of gold highheeled sandals, I hardly recognized myself. I definitely appeared older, very sexy and very sophisticated.

As I stepped out of the dressing room, the salesgirl mumbled, “Not bad for a kid.” Matt took one look and said, “Hot damn, we’ll take it.”

We stayed for over two hours, while Matt bought me not only the black sheath, but also a midnight blue satin, several lovely silks and chiffons, and a beautiful baby-blue brocade gown, all accented by matching capes and bags and shoes.

When we left the shop we found a crowd had gathered. Matt glanced at Alan, who immediately disappeared. Then he gave a number of people his autograph, said goodbye, and Gene quickly led us through the back of the shop and out the door, where Alan was waiting with the car ready to take us to the hotel.

Back at our suite, Matt said, “I’m hungry. Nate, order me a steak, but make sure you tell them well done. What do you want, Honey?”

“Hell, M,” Matt said, “I always tell them well done.”

“Well, tell them again,” Matt shot back. “I’ll be goddamned if it doesn’t always come back half raw.”

To Matt, raw was slightly pink. Everyone specified “burnt” when ordering for him.

Matt turned to Alan and said, “Hog Ears” (he had pet names for all his employees), “make arrangements for Red Skelton’s midnight show, and see if there’s anyone in the hotel who can do y/nn hair and makeup.”

“Hair and makeup?” I said. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

It was long and y/hc, casually combed. But beyond feeling he didn’t like my hair, now I began to think he didn’t like my looks.

“There’s nothing wrong with it, honey. It’s just that this is Las Vegas. Everyone has their hair done. You need to apply more makeup around your eyes. Make them stand out more. They’re too plain naturally. I like a lot of makeup. It defines your features.”

Defines your features? At that time it made a lot of sense—and Matt knew best.

While we waited for dinner, Matt put one of his records on the stereo and sat next to me, singing along with his own voice on the record. In that moment I fell in love all over again. When he sang about lost love or a life lived out in grief and pain, he delivered the lyrics with such conviction that I’d feel the hurt. He’d been a fan of country music since long before it became popular and was always impressed by the raw emotion in those recordings.

After dinner we got ready for the evening. At Matt’s request, Armond, a hairdresser at the hotel, came in and spent nearly two hours creating my new look. He teased and twisted up my hair with one long curl falling in front of my left shoulder. Then he applied my makeup so heavily that you couldn’t tell if my eyes were black, blue, or black and blue. It was that look of the sixties, only more extreme. That was what Matt wanted.

When I put on my brand-new brocade gown, my transformation from an innocent sixteen-year-old to a sophisticated siren was complete. I looked like one of the lead dancers in the Folies-Bergère.

“Goddamn, what happened to Little y/nn,” Matt said when he saw me. “You look beautiful. Nate, come here. Look what I found.”

Nate walked in and did a double take.

“Sure doesn’t look like the same girl we met in Germany, wearing a sailor dress,” Nate said.

Everyone laughed, and we left to see Red Skelton’s midnight show.

We arrived just after the lights went down, and the maître d’, using a flashlight, quickly led us to our table. Matt always tried to arrive unnoticed so he wouldn’t distract attention from the headlining star. But word always spread throughout the audience that he was there and within a few seconds, the whispering would start and heads would turn.

At the end of a show Matt would try to exit just before the house lights went up, but on that night we didn’t make it. The lights came on and suddenly we were surrounded by an enthusiastic crowd of people pushing and shoving, hoping to get an autograph.

Being just under five foot five, I was engulfed in the crush and I began to feel faint. I reached out for Matt as I started to panic and said, “I can’t breathe. I have to get out.”

At first he grinned, then his look turned to concern as he saw my desperation. Still smiling and signing autographs, he said to Alan, “Get y/nn out quick. I’ll be along as soon as I can.”

Alan took one look at me, grabbed my hand, and pushed his way through the crowd, out of the hotel. Once in the fresh air, I regained my composure. From that experience I learned to scout out the exits whenever Matt and I entered a crowded room.

When we came out a few minutes later, like clockwork, the limo was waiting. We jumped in and sped off to the Sahara Hotel for my first adventure in gambling. Matt wasn’t a serious player—it didn’t matter if he won or lost. He played for the fun of it. A cigar jutting impressively from his mouth, a drink in one hand, and his eyes squinting suspiciously at the cards, he gave a flawless impersonation of Clark Gable as Rhett Butler. I sat proudly beside him, his very own Scarlett O’Hara.

I’d never played blackjack before, but after a few hands, Matt thought I had the hang of it. He handed me five hundred dollars and jokingly said, “You’re on your own, kid. What you win is yours, and what you lose  . . . well, we’ll have to discuss that later.”

I smiled and called for the dealer to include me in the game. I looked at my hand, counting on my fingers under the table. Nine plus eight is seventeen, then a five makes  . . .

“Twenty-one!” I shouted. Throwing down my cards, I looked over to Matt for his approval.

“Let’s see,” he said, slowly scooping up the cards. Squinting one eye, he counted them. Then, leaning over to me, he grinned and whispered, “Sorry, Baby. It’s twenty-two.”

I was so embarrassed that I excused myself and took refuge in the ladies’ room. When I gathered up the courage to return, I tried again, and luckily ended up winning two hundred dollars.

For the next two weeks, we slept during the day and played at night. If there was a show, we saw it; if there was a casino, we played it. To help me adapt to this fast-paced life-style and unusual hours I would join Matt and the others in taking amphetamines and sleeping pills. Despite whatever misgivings I had about pills, I took them. In order for me to keep up, they became essential.

I was adapting. My inhibitions were dropping away and I became more assertive, especially after taking the pills. I liked the feeling. Even though it was an escape from reality, we were in sync and to me I was fitting more into his world. We were learning all about each other and using this trip to make up for the two years we had been apart. Both of us were falling more in love—and avoiding any thought of the moment when we’d have to part again.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd.

This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - long long chapter todayyy🎀

[object-show-analysis]

It’s been a while but TPOT 10 was SO interesting I absolutely have to say Something about it. I would love to go through each team and talk individually about their nightmares but for starters there’s one that Really caught my eye

So for this most recent challenge Two puts one person from each team to sleep to have a nightmare that reflects a fear of theirs with the intention of bringing the teams closer together by having the other team mates save them from it. We’re not given a ton of information on the specifics of this fear from Two. At no point do they say that they’re making them face their Worst fear, but later contestants like Winner and Book come to refer to the subject of their dreams as their personal nightmare outside of a dream sense so we can assume that even if it’s not their worst fear, it is a pretty pressing concern.

These nightmares are Really interesting insights into the worries of some of the characters, and also the responses that their teammates had. It also gave us a lot of really great information that we didn’t previously have, like Winner’s backstory, which a lot of people have been waiting for

While I was excited to see all of the nightmares, nothing stood out to me quite like Barfbag’s. Which I think told us the most about her and her team, despite the lack of obvious attention that it got and I really want to talk about it

Barfbag’s nightmare

The dream opens with the top of Barfbag’s head huge and exposed to her teammates, with different substances in containers above her. Her teammates are confused by what it means, but the substances cause Pin to immediately jump into action, pouring a container of caffeine into her.

The caffeine immediately effects her, which is when Gaty connects the dots as to what the nightmare is about

This is the last time that the actual substance of her fears are acknowledged, as Pin suggests they “commit to the nightmare” and use the substances to wake her up. This is fascinating to me because it shows a clear disregard for Barfbag’s feelings and confirms that this is something she has reason to be afraid of

Barfbag has had to struggle a lot because she is made out of barf. Going so far back as to the first three episodes of BFB, in which she was continuously ridiculed and hurt by the people around her because of cruel assumptions they made about her being stupid because she’s full of vomit

And later in BFB when she’s filled with water for the first time, and she feels much better than she normally does, implying that being full of vomit does actually make her feel very sick

And in the second to most recent TPOT episode (as of now) TPOT 9, where she was turned into a zombie because of what other people put inside, causing a zombie outbreak

This is something she’s shown to have a lot of guilt over now, becoming immediately clear at the beginning of TPOT 10 where she’s hiding from the rest of her team due to fear that they will retaliate against her for the events of TPOT 9, even though she had no active influence in any of those events. Her body was forcibly changed without her knowledge, and she had no ability to stop it. And yet her fellow contestants like Black Hole actively blame her for it.

Barfbag’s existence as a Barf Bag clearly makes her very vulnerable. I’m really glad to see TPOT addressing this reality as something that she’s actively very scared of. And on top of that I think the lack of self awareness regarding this fear among her team mates is Fascinating.

Immediately upon realizing her fear, her teammates exploit it with no care to her feelings about it. And while it works for the challenge, it shows a very clear issue about the lack of respect that people have for barfbag.

I really like the direction that TPOT seems to be going in regards to barfbag and I hope to see this get elaborated on in the future!