#his formal attire phase is one of my favorites | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

makeste · 4 years ago

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Are there any headcanons that you would like to share? About anything you want.

anon in the absence of specific guidelines I have managed to make this post pretty much entirely about Bakugou. I apologize if you really wanted to know all of my headcanons about Kouda or something lol. but all joking aside he really is the character I think about the most and so probably like 80% of my headcanons are about him, including close to 100% of the headcanons I actually have a solid enough grip on to put into words. anyway here goes.

he does not know how to tie a tie. he was a rowdy little free range knee-scraping grass-staining run-don’t-walk child whose parents only ever managed to wrestle him into formal attire a handful of times for special occasions when he was younger, and then he went to a middle school that used gakuran-style uniforms so he never learned then, either. his dad offered to teach him when U.A. rolled around, but he was all, “fuck off dad, I know how to tie a stupid tie,” because by that time he had grown into a cocky little brat confident in his own skill and naive as to the reality checks of the world, and he genuinely believed with the conviction that only a fifteen-year-old can muster that when the time came he would just magically know how to do it. on the first day of school he got as far as draping the loose tie over his neck and holding one end in each hand before staring at the mirror and abruptly realizing the hole he’d dug himself into. and so rather than admit defeat, he just straight up decided not to wear it. which became a permanent life choice once he got to school and saw how badly Deku’s tie was tied and realized there was no way he could ever risk that kind of humiliation.

in a similar vein, I know there’s a popular fanon that because of his parents’ influence Katsuki has a good sense of fashion, but my own personal headcanon is that this could not be further from the truth lol. it’s not that he has a terrible sense of style, mind you; it’s just that he doesn’t care about it at all. he’s a nerdy jock who spends all his free time studying and lifting weights. this kid literally only wears one color, and that color just so happens to be the easiest possible color to coordinate. he owns like three pairs of shoes max. he wears his pants three sizes up and they drag so much that the hems are all frayed from him constantly stepping on them (literally canon, and one of my favorite details from chapter 218). he just doesn’t give a fuck, so long as the clothes are comfortable and don’t look stupid. he has about a million things he’s more concerned about than what he or anyone else is wearing. in fact I’m 90% sure that his mom still buys most of his clothes, and about 70% convinced he does not even know what size he is.

he’s good at household chores (because he’s good at everything), but hates doing them. aside from cooking, which he enjoys, he will bitch and whine nonstop if forced to do tedious-yet-necessary things like washing dishes and folding laundry. that said, he is a perfectionist, and he also has a lot of experience because his mom made him do chores all the time during the seven trillion times he was grounded while growing up (that’s his estimate, btw, so it may be slightly exaggerated. he was not an easy kid to raise. when your kid’s fuse is about a millimeter long and he has a tendency to literally blow up whenever he throws a fit, you end up with a lot of objects in your house that have been replaced at some point), so if you do actually manage to get him to do the chore, rest assured that chore is getting fucking DONE.

when he was very little he watched an Avengers Endgame-style All Might film where a bunch of bad guys attacked earth and various assorted heroes tried and failed to stop them. then at the climax of the film, All Might showed up and said “I am here”, and everyone got super pumped up and excited because they knew the heroes were going to win with All Might on their side. this scene remains Katsuki’s favorite scene in anything. not the fight -- just the moment where All Might shows up and grins and the audience knows right there and then that he’s going to win. this is the feeling that inspired his dream. he wants to be the one who shows up and everyone is like, “we’re good now; Katsuki is here.”

when he was six or seven he got into a big fight with an older boy over that scene because he said it was fake and that there was no way All Might could have beaten those guys in real life. Katsuki insisted he definitely would have because All Might never loses. the other boy replied that everyone loses sometimes. Katsuki kicked his ass and got suspended for a week.

ten years later, Katsuki watched All Might battle All for One at Kamino and realized two things. one, that the other boy was right and that anyone can lose. and two, that he, the one who had so proudly defended All Might back then, was going to end up being the reason why he finally lost.

for a long time afterwards, he couldn’t bring himself to watch that movie again.

when he and Izuku were three years old their moms sent them out on a first errand (google Hajimete no Otsukai if you’re unfamiliar with this tradition, I promise you it is the cutest fucking thing you’ll ever see) to buy ingredients for katsudon. Izuku was full of bouncy childish enthusiasm and could rattle off the full shopping list of ingredients front to back, but when the moment finally came his confidence wilted as soon as their parents were out of sight. Katsuki also had a moment of panic when they first rounded the corner and he couldn’t see his house anymore, but rallied once Izuku burst into tears and he realized that he had to be the one to take charge. he proceeded to morph into an absurdly over-the-top caricature of his own mother for the duration of the errand, to the point where in addition to telling Izuku to stop crying he also ordered him to stand up straight and tuck in his shirt. the two of them went on to complete the errand flawlessly and their moms were PROUD AS FUCK and took a billion pictures. Izuku and Katsuki have only a few scattered memories of this milestone in the present day but it’s enough to send both of them absolutely reeling with embarrassment whenever they’re reminded of it.

he and his mom don’t often get along but sometimes they’ll bond over roasting a mutual target. they have watched many a trashy reality TV show together for this purpose. Masaru lives for these moments but never comments on them lest he spoil the rare moments of peace.

Katsuki is perfectly capable of using keigo (i.e. normal polite Japanese with no rude language/cursing), otherwise he would not be one of the top students in his ivy-league high school. code-switching is a thing guys! anyways his teachers are aware of this, because all of his essays and homework assignments are written normally. he merely chooses to go about his daily business acting like a wannabe yakuza stereotype because that’s just his personality, and he’s not about to start censoring himself and acting like some weird little goody two shoes robot person just to please people he mostly doesn’t give two shits about. but if you put a gun to his head and told him you’d pull the trigger if he said “fuck”, he would probably be all right; he’d just have to concentrate.

when he was little he went through a phase of collecting cicada shells and leaving them EVERYWHERE -- in the bathroom sink, on his mom’s pillow, you name it. Mitsuki often tells people this is when she started getting gray hairs. one time she opened a box of cereal and there was one in there and a little bit of her soul died that day.

he generally doesn’t care who calls him Kacchan. it doesn’t particularly bother him and it never occurred to him to pretend like it did just for appearance’s sake. also secretly for some reason the thought of Deku ever calling him anything else really bothers him. he’s not sure what it would mean if that ever happened, or what he would do.

all of his workouts are designed to strengthen his arms and back and shoulders because those are the parts of his body that take the most abuse from his quirk. other than that he avoids building up excess muscle anywhere else because the more weight he puts on the harder it is to fly around. for this reason he is never going to end up being a big bulky guy like All Might. one day Deku is going to surpass him in muscle, but he doesn’t care because he’ll still be a match for him in firepower and speed.

he’s one of those kids who will not so much as take a sip of alcohol until he’s twenty-five. partly because he’s experienced enough concussions that he doesn’t particularly want to give hangovers a try, and partly because he’s a control freak and honestly afraid of getting drunk and making an idiot of himself somehow. the rowdier members of class A try virtually every trick in their wheelhouse and then some to try and persuade him over the years, but not even the reverse psychology “aw, don’t worry, it’s okay if you’re... scared :)” thing works, because that’s only actually effective when he secretly wants to do the thing.

then one day he just wakes up and is all “you know what, I’m gonna try it”, and for the next few days his google history is basically just “how many drinks does it take to get drunk” and “how to avoid getting drunk” and “how to prevent hangovers.” somehow word gets out through the grapevine (he probably told Todoroki, who is the one person in class A you’d think wouldn’t be a big ol’ gossip but in fact IS) that Bakugou is finally going to get his drink on that weekend, and pretty much EVERYONE shows up at the izakaya that Friday night excited as FUCK.

Katsuki proceeds to drink a grand total of two beers over the span of several hours, and drinks like five glasses of water in between, and literally nothing happens to him at all except that Kaminari almost fights him out of frustration. the rest of class A never fully gets over their disappointment.

he actually knows like 90% of class 1-A’s names by this point. there are still a few people he doesn’t and will never know, though. twenty years from now Aoyama will still be “that weird fucking french kid” in his mind.

he had no idea who Eri was until the Christmas party. sometimes he’d hear the other kids talking about someone named Eri, and from context clues he somehow ended up thinking it was one of Aizawa’s cats. when Eri came to the party he had a brief moment of curiosity wondering if she was Sensei’s niece or something, and then he heard someone say her name and he was all “THAT’S ERI?!” and his entire worldview was briefly shaken up.

he pulled Kirishima aside to ask him and Kirishima basically gave him Eri’s whole entire life story which was way more than he actually wanted to know. he’s now kind of terrified of ever being in the same room as her for fear of having to interact with her because he’s pretty sure he’d do or say the wrong thing. most of the time being intimidating is something he strives for and puts a lot of effort into, including when he’s around kids (who are basically just smaller, sloppier adults in his mind), but he doesn’t want to be the guy who scared an abused kid, so he basically just hopes the others will have enough common sense not to ever go “oh hey you know who should totally interact with each other?? Eri and Bakugou!”

that being said, if circumstances ever arose which forced Katsuki to protect Eri, the two of them would totally bond and they would have a really sweet relationship in which Eri looked up to him just like she looks up to Deku and Mirio and the rest, and where Katsuki was constantly trying to be on his best behavior around her, like genuinely, sincerely trying, and kind of failing at it a lot but still being sweet in a gruff sort of restrained-disaster way.

...and after sitting there for a while trying to think of more I couldn’t come up with any so I guess that’s it! basically most of my headcanons are about how secretly boring Katsuki is. honestly if it weren’t for him having the vocabulary of a 52-year-old sailor whose foot was caught in a bear trap, he and Iida would probably be best friends.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki #bnha meta #bakugou meta #bnha headcanons #don't think there're any spoilers here except for the detail about his pants in 219 lol #sorry if I have spoiled anyone for that #makeste reads bnha #asks #anon asks #long post #oh whoops it was actually 218 my bad just edited #wait a second the christmas party is spoilers isn't it lol whoops #bnha spoilers #there we go

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words-writ-in-starlight · 5 years ago

Text

Some Trans!Danny Thoughts

When this hit its second page, I moved it to a new post. In no particular order of importance.

When Danny was a year old and learning to talk, he spent two hours getting in a power struggle with his then-three-year-old sister where she pointed to him and said “Danielle” and he said “Dannel” back, and then she told him “Jasmine” and he answered “Jassem”, and it ended with two kids in tears and Maddie having straight-up given up. This was not so much a gender thing as a “kids getting into a screaming match about nothing of import” thing. Instead of trying to fight the point, Maddie decided that her kids were now named Dani and Jazz, and that mostly resolved the issue. It was also extremely convenient later.

Maddie and Jack are not, shall we say, the most attentive parents in the world. Danny was in the third grade before he was required to attend a formal event of any kind (it was Jazz’s elementary school graduation), and while Maddie did manage to wrangle him into a dress, he scowled through the whole thing. Then Jazz bounced down to them, grinning and bright-eyed, and dropped her robe onto his head, because it was June and too warm for it. He spent the next hour running around like a wizard and destroyed the lower third of his dress and that was pretty much the ballgame on Danny and formal attire. He wore jeans to his elementary school graduation.

Jazz started being mostly in charge of making sure Danny had clothes that weren’t, A, full of holes, or B, contaminated around when she was twelve. She decided to do the big sister thing right and took him to Target, whereupon Jazz immediately got decision paralysis. This turned into Danny, ten, and Jazz, twelve, staring at each other in the baby clothes section like they had walked into a parallel dimension, until finally Danny very slowly lifted up a blue newborn onesie covered in elephants and said “I think we’re in the wrong section,” and then they had to sit down on the floor so as not to knock anything over while they lost it. It was a weird day for the Target employees. Jazz pulled it together enough to turn Danny loose and tell him that he needed three t-shirts, a jacket, a pair of pants, and underwear, but not enough to actually dictate anything about the clothes he found. If her sister wanted to run around in block colored t-shirts and a boy’s hoodie, that was between Danny and God.

The ONE dysphoria headcanon I will be including is that Danny was one of those people who went from completely flat chested to a C-cup more or less overnight when he was eleven and suddenly all the mild discomfort he’d ignored through most of his life crystallized. Jazz offhand said that they should go buy a couple bras, because she needed some more too, and Danny fully blue-screened out for five minutes before Jazz snapped her fingers in his face and went “Hey, Earth to Fenton, are you okay?”

“I don’t want to do that,” Danny said.

“What, go shopping? Listen, we haven’t gotten lost in a store since--”

“I don’t want to get--” Danny stopped there, because he was suddenly really not prepared to say any of the words that might go at the end of that sentence. “Can’t I just not?”

“Not—buy a bra?” Jazz asked carefully.

“Yeah.” And Jazz’s baby sister blinked at her from under the shaggy overgrown pixie cut she’d been getting since she was old enough to have preferences, and Jazz thought, a little idly, well, Dani won’t be able to look like a boy anymore, if she looks anything like me and Mom.

And then Jazz, budding psychologist, opened her mouth, shut it, and said, “Tell you what, how about we don’t worry about it right now.” So they didn’t, and watched a movie, and then after Dani went to bed, Jazz hauled one of her secondhand psychology textbooks off a bookshelf and started doing reading.

Three days of intensive research later, she sidled up to Danny and said, “Hey, I have a weird question. Do you even want to be a girl, or what?”

“Sure,” Danny said, distracted by frowning over his summer homework, in the universal tone of I’m really not listening but okay, yeah. “I—hang on, what?”

“Would you be a girl if you had the option?”

Danny blinked at her, again, and said, like Jazz was an idiot, “Would you?”

“Yeah,” Jazz said. “I like being a girl. But I was thinking that maybe you might want to start school as Daniel?”

And then it was Dani’s turn, Danny’s turn, to open his mouth, shut it, and say, “Is that—a thing?”

“Sure,” Jazz said with completely unwarranted confidence. “I’m sure I can figure it out.”

Danny went over to Tucker’s the same afternoon and said, in a tone of total shock, “Hey, did you know I was a boy?” And that was pretty much the end of that conversation. The conversation with Sam also featured Sam’s very earnest attempt to convert Danny to being goth, but that was because Sam was going through a Phase and tried to convert anyone who asked her anything about clothing.

Jazz helps Danny figure out how to explain to their parents. Since it doesn’t involve ghosts, Maddie and Jack could really give a fuck what pronouns their kid uses, and since it doesn’t really change anything except that Jack starts calling him “Danny-boy” instead of “Dani-girl,” it’s not…remarkable.

Later, Jazz is going to think about that conversation, and about the way their dad boomed a laugh and said, “From your face, I thought you were going to tell us something awful—like you were a ghost! Sure thing, Danny-boy, sounds good.” And she’s going to understand why Danny told them one secret and not the other.

Danny’s pediatrician is just relieved that, at Danny’s pre-school yearly physical, Jazz’s only weird question is “can you prescribe hormone blockers” rather than something like “hey if you eat something contaminated with ectoplasm do you think that’ll have effects or…?” (Someone please put this woman out of her misery.)

Danny’s wearing his binder during the accident, which is very convenient, don’t get him wrong, but also that was his favorite binder and he’s annoyed about it getting permanently removed from his wardrobe. It didn’t do that rolly thing at the base of the elastic, it’s hard to find binders that don’t do the rolly thing. Sam listens to him complain about it twice and then she tries to smother him with a pillow and accidentally slam dunks him through his bed.

Also, he initially has some concerns about whether he can take his binder…off as Phantom? You’re not supposed to wear a binder while you exercise, Jazz has drilled this into his head, and it’s not until after his first major dustup with a ghost that he remembers, huh, fighting ghosts probably counts. Some experimenting proves that, while Phantom is a lot more…structured than your average ghost and his suit does come off, it can’t really sustain itself without him for long. If he leaves a glove or torn clothing behind, eventually it’ll start to crumble, or, more alarmingly, melt. On the upside, the suit seems to repair itself, and can straight up regrow any pieces that he loses. A little more experimenting proves that Phantom doesn’t breathe except to talk, and even that seems to be mostly habit, so Operation: Fight Ghosts In A Binder is a go.

Real conversation:

“So…this is Dani,” Danny says, doing kind of a ta-da gesture at the long-haired ghost who, undeniably, looks exactly like him, if a little younger. “She’s my clone.”

“Hi,” Jazz says gamely, and the ghost waves back. “What are you two going to do about the name thing? If you’re both named Daniel it’ll get confusing.”

“My name is Danielle,” the girl says, bemused. “It’s Dani, with an I.”

“She’s not trans,” Danny says with a shrug. Jazz feels about four hundred questions hurl themselves at the back of her teeth, and she takes a deep breath, and Danny is already smirking by the time she wrestles down the impulse to never stop talking. “I told you it would kill her not to be able to write a paper on us,” Danny tells Dani. Then he turns back to Jazz and says, “So, Vlad gave me a free sister and she literally does not own clothes. I figured you could take her to Target and have a meltdown in the baby section.”

“Danny! God, you’re such a brat, that was one time,” Jazz says, flushing, and she grabs Dani by the hand and drags her off while Danny cackles at their back. “Congratulations on your jerk brother,” Jazz tells Dani. “He’s giving me grey hair.”

“Don’t worry about it too much,” Dani says. “You’ll match.” Jazz narrows her eyes and Dani grins, unapologetic.

It makes Danny grin like an idiot the first time the Amity Times publishes a (nominally complimentary, before shit hits the fan) headline about the ghost boy, and he keeps a copy of the article.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #danny fenton is TRANS and you cannot STOP ME #jazz fenton #these are almost as much about jazz if i'm being honest i REALLY love jazz #anyway these are borne on the tide of my dissatisfaction with how every single trans danny thing is about dysphoria #i knoooooow okay i know i get it i know i GOT THE CONCEPT #can we PLEASE get some jokes up in here. some affirming stuff about jazz using her hyperfixation to figure out how to support her brother.#some stuff about how sam's entire conversation with danny was 'so if you're a dude are you going to change your look?'#'because i think maybe an eyebrow piercing or some gauges--' 'i'm not changing my look i like my shirts sam' 'danNY YOUR SHIRTS ARE BORING'#PLEASE give me sam (a bisexual goth drama queen) dunking on her boyfriend for dressing like every boring straight boy ever #(in any universe tbh come on folks)#danny was always going to end up tall but since he goes on t when he's 16 he's VERY tall #and since he's doing ghost hunting 40 hrs/week when he goes on t he also ends up PRETTY BUFF #(remind me to write some stuff about the following: how relieved danny is when he turns 25 and really doesn't look much like dan at all)#(and how profoundly uncomfortable danny is when his voice drops and turns into something WAY too close to dan's for comfort)#also listen i know that not many trans folks actually do the whole 'this is basically just my name but gendered differently' thing #but i (a person with a feminine first name and a masculine middle name) did so just let me project in peace #at some point some kid makes a joke in phantom's earshot about 'do ghosts even come in trans or what' and he's like 'i'm RIGHT here'#i have...more of these #a queue we will keep and our honor someday avenge

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soranihimawari · 4 years ago

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the truth is...

“Kindness is free. Love is free,” I said triumphantly raising the bottle of sake in the air. Today was one I didn’t see coming at all. As fate would have it, running into my high school crush was not particularly high on my to-do list when I left the cafe I worked in earlier in the afternoon. I was hired on as one of the patisseries which specialized in parfaits and seasonal tarts during my last year in culinary school. Tonight, I was drunk on celebrating this latest turn of events.

“Of course,” my company teases me right as he raises my hand to his lips. he lets go of my hand with a cheshire cat like grin. “How could I ever forget that. C’mon, let’s get some food in you before you suffer the worse hangover in your life. I know a great place not too far from here.”

I took another swig of the sake bottle before I nodded.

“Lead the way Atsumu-san.”

I swore those hazel eyes never looked so inviting as they did at that point in my life. I recalled my coworkers’ conversation earlier in the middle of our shift:

“Say, y/n-san,“ the interning barista, Haruna, began.

“Hmm?” I hummed my response. “What’s up Haru-chan?”

“I was, well we were all wondering about something,” she said.

I picked up a towel to dry another cappuccino mug beside her. The other members of our cafe were within earshot when their senior intern asked her question.

“How come your boyfriend only comes in after we leave? When are you gonna introduce us?”

“Boyfriend? Haruna, I hate to break to you, but I don’t have one.”

“No, you do,” she begins to state her case. Haruna nervously twiddled her thumbs while our other coworker, Senna, approached us. “Tell her Senna-senpai.”

“We didn’t want to say anything, but there’s this hot blond guy who looks eerily similar to Miya Atsumu, y’know. From the MSBY Black Jackals? Anyways, he stops in here every once in a while right at closing time when it’s Erina’s turn to lock up the cafe. And apparently there was one day he asked me if you worked here,” Senna confesses. “You went to Inarizaki too, right?”

“Yeah, so?” I asked. My small smile was caught by both of them before I picked up the next mug to dry.

“You should of seen the relief on his face when Senna told him that you did and now he hasn’t stopped coming by on random mornings, but you’re never here when he comes by,” Haruna says with a dreamy sigh.

“Listen,” I said. I placed the second mug upside down on the drying rack and folded the drying towel before continuing. “The next time that blonde pretty boy walks in here is the day I will need to buy a bottle of really strong orange flavored sake to get through any sort of time with him.”

“You liked him didn’t you?” Haruna giggled.

“I do not.” Oh fuck, they’re both going to pick up on that slip, I thought.

“You’re blushing really hard now, Senpai,” Senna teased. “You still find him really hot don’t you?”

***

A couple of days go by without Miya stopping by the cafe. I had reminded my fellow cafe employees the MSBY team had a few away practice matches while promoting a newly signed member of their team. Even with this knowledge, their collective curiosity got the better of them inquiring about my relationship, or lack thereof, with the good looking setter.

It wasn’t until two weeks later Miya Atsumu stopped in for his usual. Apparently there were perks of his frequent visits one of them being on his social media account pages tagging our cafe location with the quote “she always makes the best parfaits”. Business actually had been steady since then. After all, it helps when your three coworkers all had conversed with him once or twice before.

One Saturday around four forty-five in the afternoon, I was in the middle of setting my fudge in a star mold when Erina, Haruna, and Senna texted me to come out of the kitchen saying that there was a regular who had a question about the menu. Judging by the messages I received, I rolled my eyes.

“Unbelievable,” I muttered before patting my hands on the apron; I had a coy smile on my face when I opened Haruna’s photo message. Damn Atsumu, you still are as handsome as ever. I pushed through the swinging kitchen door walking toward where my former classmate was standing on the opposite side of the display counter.

“Miya-kun?” my voice maintained its curious tone.

The blonde professional athlete stood in the middle of the cafe reading the menu wearing a casual sponsored street attire that included a hoodie with his team’s logo stitched on (along with a pair of cotton jersey shorts and running shoes). Compared to me being dressed in a humbling combination of tapered royal blue jeans and a sunflower yellow blouse paired with nonslip ebony ballet flats, the setter looked like he was in athleisure campaign.

“Hey there dollface. Long time no see.”

I folded my arms over my chest when he sat down in front of the short counter space near the espresso maker. I was skeptical of his presence here, but my brain kicked into fight or flight mode ever since I heard him poke fun at the odd shaped friendship chocolates I left for him on his desk when we were fifteen (to be fair, it was my second attempt at making sea salt chocolates at home, but apparently, the Miya twins were going through their high school jerk phase). I watched Atsumu from afar trash them without even tasting one in favor of his fangirls’ fancier box saying something about how he had to avoid excess sweets for a week because of some stupid bet he had going on with his twin.

Does he need to know he was the reason why I wanted to perfect my sweet making skills? No. Absolutely not. Because if he did, that ego of his would skyrocket and I’m actually ok with not letting that bit of info reach his ears. Damn it Miya, why are you still as good looking as I remembered you being? The fuck was I thinking when I was fifteen...Gods do I need a drink. I thought.

“What’re you doing here? Shouldn’t you be off training or at practice or something?”

“Nope. I got the day off and thought I should come by to see what’s the newest parfait my favorite old classmate made for me.”

“Bold of you to assume it’s for you, ‘Tsumu.”

Me saying his nickname caused him to raise an eyebrow at me before he closed his eyes and I watched his lips draw back into a wider smile.

“Erina, Haruno, mind staying behind to help Senna clean and lock up tonight? It seems the owner of this cafe and I have dinner plans.”

“You’re not their boss Miya, so you can’t tell them what to do.” I pushed my finger against his shoulder which caused a chortle to come from him. I turned around to face my coworkers with an amused stare.

“Erina, Haruno, mind helping Senna out tonight? I’m leaving early. Apparently I have plans with the starting setter for the MSBY volleyball team.”

That was at five-thirty that afternoon...

---THE NEXT DAY, 9:56a.m.---

The soft chirping of an alarm located on the nightstand next to the plush king sized bed where I found myself waking up in. I am by no means a rich lady and for the life of me, I couldn’t even afford a place like this with a killer view of the neighborhood. Suddenly, as I hoisted myself up from the sheets, my memory came back in little flashes. Memories ranged from me getting drunk with Atsumu at the local pub next to his brother’s restaurant to Atsumu’s declaration on which onigiri his brother makes was the absolute best in town and how not one of his ex-girlfriends could ever replicate it properly.

I don’t recall much of what we talked about at Onigiri Miya when Osamu left us to ourselves for a little bit, but I could of sworn Atsumu tell me how he was searching for the cafe I worked at trying to formally apologize about dumping out the chocolates I had made when we were in high school:

“I heard you made them at home, right?” he asked, watching my nose twitch before I rested my head in my palm on the table. When I nodded, I didn’t notice he was pouting when he muttered an, “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, hah. I did. It was my second batch too. I made them look like stars because those were the only molds I had. If I had known they’d wind up in the trash, I wouldn’t have tried to make you feel better after the results of the spring tournament that year,” I said exhaling a sigh. I leaned my head against Atsumu’s shoulder gently reassuring him I had long since forgiven him. “But it’s in the past. Don’t worry about it so much, ‘tsumu. C’mon, the night is still young and I need at least one more bottle of sake before the convenience store stops selling them.”

---

“Oh my god,” I groaned when I flung the blanket off my top exposed body. My bra was still on, which was a good sign I guess, but instead of wearing my sapphire slacks, I noticed they were replaced with an older pair of white with black striped sweatpants (the color combination of the sweatpants reminded me of my high school’s volleyball team). I snatched the closest shirt I could find, yet I didn’t have enough time to throw that over my shoulders since I heard the bedroom door creak open.

“Good, you’re awake,” a disembodied voice called out from behind me. Give me a damned minute, I thought. I know that voice; it belonged to one of my classmates whom I recalled walking into my cafe yesterday asking me to spend the evening with him. Inhaling a sharp breath when I felt the mattress dip behind me, I barely remember him telling me to confess about something when I was sober in the morning and for some reason I had agreed.

“You’re really pretty, y’know.” Miya stretched his arm around my shoulder before he stood up to help me to my feet. I was a bit skeptical at his compliment, yet he squeezed my shoulder twice allowing me to know that he said was true.

“You flatter me, Miya. Why don’t you try complimenting me when I’m sober, yeah?” I tapped the left side of his cheek when I hopped off the stool.

“Fine,” he chuckled. “You’re drunk enough as it is. Let’s go. Later ‘Samu.”

I shook my head right as I felt his arms wrap around me from behind, I let out a shaky laugh when he pulled me to lean back into him. I was quick to notice the soft fabric of his shirt when my head came into contact with it. There’s no way in hell we’d ever sleep together because I might have let it slip we should try to avoid a publicity scandal...

“How’re ya feeling dollface?” his voice whispers into my ear. A shiver ran up my spine when he did this, allowing me to focus on anything else besides the sun peeping through the blinds of the window.

“Better now that I’m here, ‘tsumu,” I replied in a groggy tone, my voice was barely above a whisper. Honestly, I’m not as hungover as I thought either, so he must have coerced me into eating some left over onigiri he had when he offered his place to me to crash, I thought. Then, I made a mental note to add a few extra half dozen macaroons for his brother when I see him next time. What Atsumu said next threw me for a loop:

“That’s good because I want you sober to remember this,” his voice taunted me right before I felt his lips press into the sides of my neck, down my back, and onto my shoulders.

“Mmm,” my voice hummed. “’Tsumu, you’re~aah~gonna leave a mark.”

My lips curled in amusement at the map his kisses left behind. He mentioned something like he wasn’t going to stop until I properly forgave him, to which I replied with a resounding, “If I didn’t did you think I’d have accepted your offer of spending the night out on the town with you?” I held onto his hands when he paused for a moment to think.

I raised my head up when he stopped, a smug smile tugged his lips upward. I felt my eyes blink a few times processing what he was trying to ask me to do. Thankfully my partner was a patiently affectionate person this morning because he didn’t leave out much for me to figure out when I twisted around his hold to plant my lips over his own. Yet although I claimed I was sober, I was already drunk off this warmth radiating from him.

You would think that after all the hours I'd spent with Atsumu last night - watching him talk, laugh, and frown (and the same with the way I noticed his stolen glances for a few seconds when he wandered into the cafe I worked in)- that I would know all there was to know about his lips, but I hadn't figured how kind they would feel pressed up against my own just yet.

When I pulled away first, I watched the way Atsumu looked down at me, his face a little flushed from my kiss. He smirked before pressing his lips on mine again and this time, the kiss was just as invigorating as before; his calloused hands roaming every inch of my body and with one of his hands becoming lost in my hair. Eventually I crawled into his lap, using his shoulders to steady my balance when he hoisted me up prompting me to straddle his upper body. My arms looped around behind his neck, running my fingers through his hair in a coquettish manner. I blew short streams of air onto the side of his neck causing his breath to hitch in his throat right before I burrowed my face in his neck kissing the space under his ear, causing me to feel his chest rumble when I heard him chortle. I seized the opportunity to guide Atsumu’s lips back onto mine.

We were both lost in a sea of bliss after that because from what we both could tell, this was the starting point of a hard-earned love that took it’s sweet time to develop and gods be damned was his love worth it.

#timeskip!miya x reader #miya atsumu x 1st person pov reader chan #miya atsumu and the truth is #omg i actually wrote my first short story for him #please be kind because i was hesitating posting this #⌚️queued

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inspired-by-the-music · 4 years ago

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For You: 4 O’Clock

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Epilogue: Part 1

1. No Longer

My heart is lighter than air as I mount the stairs after reading my story, my soul, to Mom and Lucas. I tuck the notebook beneath the blankets on the side of the bed closest to the window, the side that Taemin always fills. Then, I walk into the cold-tiled bathroom to shower and wash myself of all past pains, all past shames, all past fears.

Stepping into a set of canary yellow pajamas that I haven’t worn in years (because they were lost to my Rugrats phase), I decide that I will embrace life’s changes. I will no longer be afraid, and I will no longer cling to the shadows, and I will follow Taemin into the light, and there—

“No,” I correct myself as I meet my reflection after wiping the fog from the mirror. Nobody ever grows in the blink of an eye. No change forced into a single breath ever lasts past the exhale.

So why— why do I keep trying to rush myself?

I have to learn patience. More than anyone else, I should understand my fears and hesitations. If I can’t treat myself with compassion, then who will? As much as I love Taemin— which is far too much to quantify with mere words even if I write in every empty notebook filling the bookshelf— can I rely on him to love me into the person I was born to be? Should I?

I don’t know, I answer as I lay myself down to catch up on hours or lifetimes of lost sleep. I don’t know how much I should want or need Taemin’s love. But I do know how much I crave my own love. My own admiration.

It’s not that I desire my love alone; it’s just— there is no substitution for self-love. I want to meet my reflection, which I have avoided for years, with a smile for the rest of my life. The next time the wind blows, I do not want to question who I am, or who I was, or who I might grow to be.

As I close my eyes at Taemin’s texted request, I make a simple resolution that I will likely wrestle with for the rest of my days: be kinder to me. Write love letters to me. Count the stars in my eyes. Learn my virtues as well as I have memorized my vices. Love me.

Love me.

I will.

2. Touch

The door opens with a deafening BANG that stirs me from a deep sleep. Lucas’s warm breath hisses into my ear, “There’s a burglar in the house.”

As I bolt upright, he screams and I whimper. Our heads collide. While we rub at the maroon lumps swelling on our foreheads, I ask in a voice muddied by sleep, “What?” The word is unintelligible to my ears, but Lucas understands.

“There’s a burglar in the house!” He repeats, throwing my quilt onto the floor. “Come on! We gotta rescue Mom!”

Because I am tired enough to believe Lucas— or, more likely, I believe that my blissful dream about Taemin’s kisses has morphed into a bizarre nightmare— I obey. Rubbing the sleep out of my puffy eyes, I follow Lucas into the hallway. I run on the tips of my toes because the floor is frozen.

Bravery courses through my veins, warm and throbbing, when muffled voices from the kitchen reach my ears. Probably because I don’t feel awake, and therefore I am indestructible, I assert, “I should walk in front.” Lucas is shielding me with his bulky body. “You know, because I am a black belt in Taekwondo.”

“I am not letting you walk in front!” Lucas growls through gritted teeth, glaring at me over his shoulder. I don’t know what floods his mind with the delusion that he is the dominant one. I don’t know why he always forgets who the boss is (me). How many times do I have to remind him?

“Some lunatic is holding Mom hostage! I’m not losing you too!” Lucas swings a bat that I have not yet noticed. “Plus, I have the weapon!”

The bat nearly bashes and bloodies my nose, but I catch it and push it away, glaring. “You are a danger to yourself and others,” I tell him.

If my mother were being held captive downstairs (and my now awakened brain argues that she most likely is NOT), I would not trust Lucas to rescue her. That’s not entirely true. In a fairytale, Lucas would be one of those knights who fights evil with a pure heart, not with a sword. The only issue is that we don’t live in a fairytale. I wish we did, though.

Before Lucas can descend the first step, I grab the back of his shirt and use all my strength to hurl him behind me. With my hands raised defensively (in preparation for the unlikely worst-case scenario), I make it halfway down the stairs. Then Lucas, being an idiot, tackles me, and we tumble down the rest of the way.

It’s only through divine intervention that we don’t break any bones— namely, our necks. It’s only by an undeserved miracle that I don’t suffocate under the brunt impact of Lucas’s full weight.

While my face, which I had protected from the bat just moments ago, grinds into the floor, Mom laughs. (So, she is very clearly not in danger.) Lucas gasps, “Taemin?”

Great. The last person I want to catch me landing face-first at the foot of the stairs.

I lift my head to stare at him. Taemin. My Taemin.

He stands across from Mom at the kitchen island. His hands are reaching into a bag from some fast food place— McDonald’s, I think. His eyes are wide, glittering, and not blinking. His pretty pink lips are rounded into a perfect “o” shape.

Although embarrassment burns through my entire being, I do not try to hide my face. I cannot look away from Taemin. He is a dream come true breathing beside Mom. He is a dream come true wearing that hoodie he stole from my bag once upon a time in an American hotel room. He is a dream come true when his only makeup is the natural blush born on one cheek, crawling across the bridge of his nose, and pooling onto the other cheek.

He is beyond beautiful. He is beyond a dream come true. And I love him. I love him so much it hurts.

Or maybe loving Taemin doesn’t hurt at all. Maybe all that hurts is Lucas’s elbow digging into my back.

Snapping out of the drooling admiration of my boyfriend, I wheeze, “Get off, Lucas!” I only start to catch my breath when Lucas stands and I start to rub the aches out of my ribs.

Without helping me onto my feet or offering the briefest apology even as a formality, Lucas skips into the kitchen. I roll my eyes. Sometimes— rarely— Lucas is annoyingly inconsiderate. A lot of boys are, I guess. Dumb. As he plucks a fry out of the bag Taemin’s hand is lost in, Lucas asks, “What are you doing here?”

Taemin doesn’t answer, though, because his attention is fixed on me. He gawks at me, jaw hanging, as I walk into the kitchen. I do not wonder why he is staring, and I do not dare to match his gaze.

The cold air raises goosebumps on my arms, legs, and the thin strip of skin exposed between my shorts and cropped tank top. (The tank top, by the way, dons the main Rugrats characters, most notably baby Dil Pickles, AKA my favorite baby ever). This set of pajamas has always been reserved only for sleeping. Before Lucas dragged me out of bed to confront a non-existent burglar, I hadn’t worn it outside of my room because— well— it isn’t exactly comfortable or appropriate considering the rotating cast of characters (usually Lucas and Heechul) constantly roaming around the house.

Folding my arms over my exposed stomach, I try to hide my lower body behind Mom’s side of the island. The smile that I offer in the hopes of deterring her from noticing my attire is defective, of course. Mom’s eyes rake over me with an interest rivaling Taemin’s. Because he is enthralled by the overflowing McDonald’s bag, Lucas is the only person who isn’t ogling me. He has never really stared at me. Maybe that’s why we are best friends.

Pinching at both of my cheeks (as if they aren’t red enough already), Mom squeals, “You look adorable, Lei!” And I want to disappear.

Reaching across the counter-top to link his pinky with mine, Taemin winks. “I agree.” And I want to glare at him for flirting right in front of Mom. Except I don’t. Except I melt when I meet his eyes for a fleeting fragment of a second.

Ever my ally when it counts, Lucas draws attention away from me. He kicks at something on the side of the island he shares with Taemin. His eyebrows wiggle suggestively. “Is this your suitcase, Taemin? Planning to go somewhere?”

Finally, I can breathe. Taemin breaks his study of me to look at Lucas as he nods. “Yeah, that’s mine.” He steals my breath again when his eyes flicker between me and Mom with the question, “Is it okay if I take my things upstairs?”

Lucas stares at me with wide eyes. His mouth falls open. He wants to scream something like, “WHEN DID YOU PLAN TO TELL ME THAT WE ARE OFFICIALLY ACQUIRING A TAEMIN?” But he heeds my silent plea to, you know, not scream, so he bites down on his lips.

Of course, I had already uncovered Taemin’s plan to move in. I accepted it. More than that, I had been anticipating it. I had been dreaming about it— not that I ever would have divulged such a secret. However, I do not know how or even if he has gotten Mom’s permission.

She smiles when Taemin, Lucas, and I look to her for a response. It’s a genuine smile; the kind that etches faint dimples into her cheeks and lights her entire face. “Make yourself at home, Taemin!”

Mom’s lack of protest should be stunning, but it isn’t. She is the same woman who invited Lucas into our house for Christmas five years ago and allowed him to turn a guest room into his personal bedroom. She is the same woman who allowed Lucas to sleep under our roof after she started to suspect that we were dating. As a mother figure, Mom spoils Lucas rotten. As a manager, though, Mom has always set boundaries with him.

With Taemin— well, not even Mom is immune to his charms. She allowed him to share a room with me throughout the American tour. If (when) he asks, she will probably allow him to share a room with me throughout the European tour. Because she was so lax as a manager, it only makes sense that she should open the door to our home for him, too.

I think Mom has a superpower. She knows from a glance who to lock outside. She knows from a glance who to welcome with open arms and a smile. I’m glad that she uses that power to protect me. More than that, though, I am glad that she uses that power to nudge me toward happiness.

Emboldened by Mom’s grin, Taemin rounds the island. Smiling at me with his eyes and his lips, he catches me around the waist. His hands are so soft, so warm. Exactly what you would expect his touch to feel like. Heaven on earth. The kind of touch that pieced together a shattered flower in the garden.

Taemin’s smile pecks delicately at my forehead, right on the spot Lucas made red. It doesn't hurt anymore. “I brought some food if you’re hungry.”

Then, before I can thank him, Taemin’s smile pecks at my lips. Right in front of Mom and Lucas, who probably watch this scene from my notebook breathing and alive before their eyes. Taemin whispers, “I’ll be unpacking if you need me, baby.”

Before I can decide whether I enjoy melting into his touch with an audience, Taemin releases me from his embrace. He walks to the stairs and ascends, carrying his suitcase, and my breath, and my heart with him. My heart— he has been holding it carefully, mindfully, gracefully, and I— I just hope I haven’t been too careless with his.

As I watch Taemin until he fades from view, I resolve to be more careful. No— careful is the last thing I need to be. I should try to love him more openly. Fearlessly. I want to give him the love that he has given to me; I want to give him the love he has dreamed about.

Dreaming about the future, dreaming about right now, my legs turn to jelly. I lean into the island for stability and look from Mom to Lucas, wondering what they are thinking.

Do they think that Taemin is settling into my world too quickly? Would they believe me if I told them that Taemin and I have been together in lifetimes past? Would they consider me a fool, a stranger, for believing in something like that? Do they think that I am a fool for wanting this life— for wanting Taemin— so badly?

I wish I didn’t care. I wish my mind wouldn’t twist into these labyrinths that I have only recently learned to navigate through with pen and paper. More than anything, I wish I could be like Taemin: too devoted to the idea of destiny to search for outside approval.

Soon, I tell myself, I will be confident on my own. For now, I take comfort in the smile Mom gives to the ceiling because she knows I will burst into flames with eye contact. For now, I am empowered by the smirk Lucas throws my way before he bites into a hamburger.

Nobody objects to Taemin's presence. My Taemin. And it’s because it is there on his wrist for anybody to see: we are meant to be.

3. Waiting

I assumed that Taemin would claim the guest room across from my bedroom, but I gather that he isn’t there as soon as I fill the doorway. The guest room is empty, dark, untouched. Afternoon sunlight faintly breaks through the thick black curtains lining the window.

This room doesn’t suit Taemin, I realize as I eye the black blanket and the black nightside lamp atop a black nightstand. Everything in his room at the SuperM house had been unearthly white. His room was like a castle in the clouds. He would never gravitate toward such a dark place where the light barely gets in.

His laughter trickles into the hallway and carries the sun into this dark corner of the house. Following the rays, tracing that melody, I find Taemin on my bed, wrapped in a cocoon made of my quilt. Chewing through a chocolate chip cookie, he reads my book by the light leaking in through my curtains, which have been drawn since his most recent departure.

Something about the scene makes my heart leap. It’s the realization that he is here with me, in my space, laughing because of something I wrote.

“Taemin!” I greet him with a whine as I close the door.

Like he is embarrassed that I have caught him sneaking glances at the story we promised to read together, Taemin gasps. He closes the book and tucks it under his pillow. After stuffing the small remaining bit of gooey chocolate into his mouth, he licks his fingers clean and folds his hands behind his head.

“Lei!” He smiles up at me.

Sighing, unable to fight the smile from my face, I flick the lightswitch. I walk to the bed, squinting to assess the mess he has made on my sheets with his dessert. “You got crumbs everywhere,” I fuss as I swipe those I can see into a pile on the floor.

Taemin wraps his hand around my wrist. He knows his faintest, briefest touch will inspire me to stare into his eyes where the stars have gathered. Sometimes, this is scary: finding myself in him. Always, this is breath-taking. Always, this is beautiful.

He is still smiling. Almost always smiling. Never affected by scolding. Well, never affected by my scolding. He trembled at the mere imagination of Mom’s disapproval. Maybe I should threaten to tell her about his messy eating habits, but I won’t. I don’t believe much in making empty threats. No matter how Taemin should annoy me, maybe even if he managed to break my heart into a million bloody pieces, I would probably never tell Mom. I have never been a tattle-tale.

To tempt me into bed with him, Taemin tugs on my wrist. When I resist the pull, he pouts to tempt me to kiss him. “I was gonna clean after myself!”

My eyebrows arches skeptically, so Taemin insists at a shrill pitch, “I was! I am! Just not now.” The ribbon tickles my skin as he laces our fingers together. “Now, I want to hold you.”

Subtly, I nod to the window. In a voice that is not quite mine— it is too quiet— I say, “It’s not time for you to hold me.

I don’t know why I said that. I can’t understand why my voice can betray my deepest desires when I want to lay with him, I want to be held by him, I want to kiss him, I want to melt into a more perfect being with him, I want to write another moment with him.

Remembering my promise to become his dream come true, to slowly grow into the person I have always wanted to be, I take the first step. Again, I break the habit of resisting— resisting the fulfillment of my hopes because I have too long feared the fall. Before Taemin can argue, before his eyes can narrow in wounded disappointment, before the newest bruise I might have carelessly inflicted on his heart can scar, I bend to catch his pouting lips in a kiss.

He tastes like chocolate. I heard once that chocolate makes people feel a little happier, so I waste no more time battling the urge, the dire need to kiss his lips again and again. Harder this time, softer next time, deeper this time, shallow next time. I kiss him every way I know how, every way I have ever imagined, and still, there must be more ways to discover.

Taemin tries to hold me against him. He tries to pull me into him, and it’s so hard to resist. I do not want to resist, and this time there is no champagne to share in the blame. There is only him. There is only me. There is only the need to blur that distance, that difference, until there is none at all, but I—

There will be another time. There will be a time when Mom isn’t answering calls in her office downstairs. There will be a time when Lucas isn’t roaming the halls or watching SpongeBob on the living room television or playing video games in his room down the hall. There will be a time when I am not filling some internal void with this physical expression of love. There will be a time when I am not wearing a set of pajamas donning my favorite infant cartoon characters.

When I break from the kiss for a breath, I bring both of my hands to tug down at the hem of my shirt. No matter how hard I tug, no matter how much I plead, I remain exposed. Why, then, do I keep begging? Why do I waste my energy by pleading for such an unnecessary miracle?

Taemin doesn’t understand either. He sits upright and, frowning, reaches for my hands. “Why do you keep doing that?” His brow furrows as he presses kisses to my knuckles. Then, he drops my hands around his shoulders. While I trace the threading in my old gray hoodie, wondering if and how I will ever make it mine again (if I even want to), Taemin says, “You look adorable, you know. Mom said so too.”

I crinkle my nose, and Taemin cries, “It’s true! It’s cute that the tiniest little bit of your tummy is showing! It’s nothing to hide, baby, especially not from me.”

I am blushing too deeply to meet his gaze. Numbly, I ask, “Especially not from you? What does that mean?”

“I mean that there is nothing that you should hide from me.” He smiles to comfort me, I think, and not to tease me. “Besides, this—” his fingers brush against the skin exposed beneath my shirt and spark a fire in my gut. I recoil from the flame, giggling. Only fools giggle at fire. “This is nothing I haven’t seen before.” Taemin winks.

My face flushes at the reminder of the New Year’s strip Rock-Paper-Scissors game. Never— never will we forget. Never will Taemin let us forget. He’s such a brat. I roll my eyes and grumble, “Really, Taemin—”

“We don’t regret it,” he reminds me softly, pressing a kiss to the bend of my elbow, “because there is nothing to regret. We were born to find each other. We were born to see each other. Don’t hide. Don’t hide from me.”

Shivering at the frequently recurring realization that I don’t want to hide, I never wanted to hide— I just thought I needed to hide— I nod. I try to bite through my smile, but I can’t. I can’t contain my happiness. “I know, Taemin. The thing is, I can’t kiss you with baby Dil Pickles watching!” I point to the character on my shirt, and Taemin throws his head back laughing.

His eyes are beautiful crescents when he beams at me. “Fine, baby.” He nudges me toward the closet. “Hurry and change. I’ll be waiting!”

4. It’s You

From the floor of my closet, a pile of clothes greets me, and I respond with a gasp. I am not especially attached to my clothes. By no means do I call myself a fashionista. It's just, everything in my room has a specific place.

Lucas calls my insistence on maintaining order in this one corner of the universe that is mine "compulsive control." I call it "organization," and, to tell you the truth, I don't think it matters much what Lucas says in this instance. Everything is organized in the most efficient manner and, seeing as this is my space, everyone should take my word for it and not move my stuff.

The culprit is obvious. Taemin has left my clothes, a bundle of dresses reserved for red carpet events, at the foot of a life-size Taeyeon poster. Replacing my dresses on their rack are Taemin's clothes— an unorganized assortment of plain black and white t-shirts.

It's amazing how quickly I roll the hearts out of my eyes. After stepping into a pair of pink sweatpants and pulling one of Taemin's shirts over my head, I call his name. I try (and fail) to bite the annoyance out of my voice by digging into my bottom lip.

Perhaps picking up on my tone, Taemin does not run to my side. He is probably sneaking more glances at our story as he responds from my bed, "What, baby?"

His voice is sickeningly sweet. Artificially sweet. He knows that he has done wrong, but he does not apologize.

His sweetness melts into something much more bitter when I say, "Come here!"

Huffing, Taemin fills the doorway wearing a frown. His arms cross tightly over his chest. His eyebrows knit together. "What?"

I was annoyed enough by his lack of consideration for my clothes— the nicest ones, I might add— before he started pouting like a spoiled child, like I had done something wrong. Narrowing my eyes, I demand, "What are you so upset about?"

"I remember this part." Taemin stares down at his feet. "This is the part where we have our first real fight, and I don't want to do it."

My scowl softens at the reminder that Taemin lives with the traces of our past lives together. That confusion of navigating through timelines— the blurring of the past and present— must be a curse in some ways. Maybe it's a worse curse than the perpetual fear of the future that has always haunted me. In some ways, I guess, I'm glad that I don't have any memories of past lives. In some ways, I guess, I'm glad that Taemin is here to lead me.

After beckoning Taemin to my side, I let my fingertips brush against his hand to prove that I'm not angry— at least not permanently. I allow my touch to linger to demonstrate that I don't want to fight either. I just want to understand: "If you knew that this would result in a fight, then why did you throw my dresses on the floor?"

Staring down at the pile he made, Taemin shrugs. "I'm stupid."

"You're not stupid."

His pout makes my heart feel heavy. I have every right to reprimand his carelessness, but I can't do it when he looks so pitiful. I don't want to do it. I love him too much. I only want to see him smile. I have always been like this: incapable of frowning at those I love for long. Some might consider this sort of pacifism passivity— a weakness— but I don't. I just want peace. I just want happiness.

"Don't say such things about yourself," I say with a gentle authority that reminds me of Mom. Forcing my attention away from Taemin, I start to pluck his shirts from the rack, explaining, "You would have much more space for your things in the closet across the hall, you know. Here. I'll help you move—"

"I don't want to move!" Taemin's entire body stiffens as he argues. His face pales. "I want to be with you!"

"You are. You will be, forever." I rise to the tips of my toes to press the promise to his lips. "Like you promised, we will sleep together every night. It's just— you need space—"

The color returns to Taemin's face as a deep, unnatural maroon. Skin should never turn that color. "I don't need space! I don't want space!" His voice trembles and shakes the entire house.

"Closet space, Taemin." I sigh at his undue panic— his determination to misunderstand me.

This headache forming around my temples— does it visit him when I am rattled by the slightest breeze? I hope not. The mere imagination that it does gives me all the more reason to find my footing.

"I'm talking about closet space. And if you don't need that—"

Looking very much like a child as his hands form fists at his sides, Taemin swears, "I don't!"

"Then I do." By now, all of his shirts are draped over my arms. By now, anyone who wasn't as deeply in love as I am might have lost their temper.

"This closet is way bigger than the other one though! This closet is the size of a store!" The stomping of Taemin's foot drills into my brain that his fixation on my closet has little to do with his attachment to me. He is being materialistic. And I don't like that.

"Materialistic?" Taemin parrots as he follows me on my march into the guest room. After he slams the door shut, his arm hooks around my waist and whirls me around so that my face nearly collides with his chest. Most of his shirts fall from my arms onto the floor.

The furrowing of his eyebrows should be an intimidating sign of anger, maybe, but I can only think that he looks cute. Like a little boy. I can only think that he isn't that much taller than me. He isn't that much bigger than me. He probably isn't that much stronger than me.

Rationally, it is decided: I am not afraid of Taemin. Should his grip around me tighten painfully, should the warm flame in his eyes turn scalding— and I do not expect them to— I could (and would) flatten him.

Once I decide that I am not afraid, I realize that I am amused. Everything about this seems unreal and almost comical, like his Na Jaemin induced fit of jealousy. All at once, I want to laugh, and I have to bite down on my lips to maintain my composure.

"I didn't say that," I assert. I am not confrontational or combative, but I do not like to shrink below sharpened stares. "You're using your soulmate mind-reading powers, which, by the way, is a very unfair tactic. You would learn to control that."

Taemin blinks at me. I wink at him. And I catch the faintest outline of a smile before his face hardens. He is play fighting now, I realize, and as butterflies swarm across my stomach I agree with what he once said; it is an exciting way to flirt.

"So you—" he almost smiles again— "you were just thinking that I am materialistic?"

Although I say nothing to confirm or deny that— why would I say anything to insult Taemin?— his subsequent outburst could convince anybody that I sincerely called him a selfish bastard or something. After scooping his shirts off of the floor and snatching those remaining in my arms, he storms over to the window. Forcing the curtains apart, he asks, "Would a materialistic person do this?"

"Do what?" I challenge, raising my eyebrows. "Play with the curtain?"

Taemin drops his shirts onto the foot of the bed. He grabs one, forms it into a ball, and hurls it out the open window.

Objectively, it probably isn't that funny, but I laugh so hard that my knees go weak. Luckily, the bed catches me, and I can muffle my laughter with a pillow.

"Get your face out of that pillow and look at me!" Taemin loses his battle against laughter too. By the time I look at him, though, he has forced his face into a scowl as he tosses another shirt. "I'm proving to you that I don't need expensive clothes to be happy! I don't need a big closet or a fancy bedroom! I had those things at the SuperM house, and I easily, happily, left them behind for what I do need."

I almost roll my eyes. Taemin is the cheesiest person alive sometimes, but I like that. He is a drama queen all the time, but I like that too. I like everything about him— even (and maybe especially) what might seem like flaws to others. His episodes are ultimately harmless. They inspire that side-splitting sort of laughter that paints my world anew with colors I never knew existed.

"Oh yeah?" Swallowing my giggles, I try to train my smile into an apathetic line. I can't do it. I am losing this skill that I spent so many years developing, this habit that I once swore was integral to survival. Is that a shame? Or is that a blessing?

A blessing, I decide. How many smiles have I killed in these last several years? Far too many to count. Far too many to mourn. I never again want to subdue my happiness.

"And what do you need, Taemin?"

Before Taemin can answer, a voice outside— Heechul's voice— shrieks, "STOP THROWING SHIT OUT THIS WINDOW!"

Faintly, I hear Mom retort, "Leave those kids alone, Heechul, and get back over here! You're supposed to be helping me!"

"These are men's shirts!" Heechul must look up into the window; suddenly, Taemin hurls himself onto the bed, almost landing on me with a force that would leave me gasping. "You just let the boys in this house do whatever the hell they want, Kim! Except me, of course. I have to obey a billion rules and jump through a trillion hoops, and even then I'm still. . ."

As Heechul's voice trails off, Taemin exhales loudly. He must have been holding his breath. "I guess they're working through their issues. Heechul is helping Mom and Lucas clean the pool. We should probably go out there tonight and make good use of it, huh?"

Taemin curls into my side and wraps an arm around my waist. Always, he gets what he wants. He really has charmed the universe.

Because he has charmed me too, I do not shy away from his touch. "It's freezing outside, Taem. You'll be hard pressed to find me in a bathing suit in the peak of summer, much less in the darkest depths of winter."

"I'm sure there is some setting to warm the water, Lei. We wouldn't have to freeze."

Taemin is right, but I don't tell him so. Rather than floating adrift in blissful silence, Taemin wonders, "What's your problem with bathing suits? You didn't wear one and get into the pool on tour either."

I joke, "I prefer to keep my belly button hidden from the world." It's funny, considering how many crop tops I have worn during promotions.

"You don't have to show it." Taemin presses his finger on my shirt, indicating my belly button. He draws shapes— he spells his name, I think— over my stomach. "You could wear one of those pretty one-piece suits. Or you could wear my shirt— this one, maybe. You look especially pretty in my clothes."

My cheeks burn as I thank him for the compliment. Carding my fingers through his hair, I ask, "Do you wanna hear about the last time I got into the pool?"

Taemin nods, nuzzling his face into the crook of my neck.

“When I turned eighteen, Soo and Minseokie— Kyungsoo and Minseok, I mean— threw a huge party. They invited everyone in NCT 127 plus Ten, so—” my lips curl into a smile as I tease— “you can relax, Taem. Jaemin wasn’t there.”

Taemin’s snort of a laugh tickles my neck. “Oh, great. That means I only have to be jealous that Ten, Taeyong, Mark, Lucas, and Baekhyun— Baekhyun, of all people!— have seen my beautiful girlfriend in a soaked bikini top!”

Almost— I almost point out that the bikini top is much less scandalous than the undergarments he saw on New Years Eve— but I decide against it at the last second. I gasp, “How do you know about that?”

“They’ve mentioned it!” Taemin lifts his head to show me how his eyes roll. “By ‘they,’ I mostly mean Ten. He thought it was funny enough when Johnny pulled you into the pool fully clothed. He thought it was funnier when Baekhyun yelled, ‘Take it off, Lei!’ or whatever he said.”

The memory makes me squirm. “Gee, well, I’m glad Ten remembers it fondly. Since I survived that incident, I’ve realized that it’s impossible to die from embarrassment.”

“If it’s any consolation, everyone agreed that you looked amazing,” Taemin says. It’s not a consolation at all; I squirm more. “And then Jongin told them to stop spreading inappropriate stories about our newest member.”

Finally, I crack the smallest smile. “Sometimes, it seems like Jongin is the only one truly on my side!” My dramatic whine elicits reluctant laughter from Taemin.

He wants to remind me that Jongin’s loyalty had been hard won, but he doesn’t say so plainly. “I was on your side first,” he hums as he drops a kiss on my collarbone. “I’ll be on your side forever.”

Raising my pinky, I repeat, “Forever.” This word that once sounded foreign in my voice, this word that was once too big to fit into my mouth is now all I can say when I look at Taemin.

Smiling, he links his smallest finger with mine. We stay intertwined like this for a while. Forever, maybe. We exist comfortably in silence. We aren’t even kissing. We are just laying together in a pinky promise, shrouded by the realization that there is nowhere we would rather be. There is nowhere else to be.

Taemin fills the silence. “Can I ask you a question?” When I nod, he asks, “Why do you have a giant poster of Key in your closet?”

Blushing slightly, I explain, “Key is one of my fashion icons. He’s the main one, actually. By his poster, I hang all of my eclectic, experimental clothes— the ones I’m not brave enough to wear yet. By Taeyeon, I hang all of my pretty clothes— formal wear, mostly. Then, by Amber’s, I hang all of the sporty stuff.”

“Why am I not a fashion icon?” Taemin’s bottom lip forms a pout, and I have to kiss him. I have to. I can’t let these opportunities pass.

I mutter, “Obviously you didn’t look under the bed,” burning at the thought that Taemin will likely (definitely) discover the extent to which I idolized him as a child. I will have to hide his photocards some place he will never find them.

At that, Taemin sparkles. “What?”

To derail him, to delay the inevitable, I say, “If you looked under my bed, you would have found my Key photocards. Then, you wouldn’t have to wonder why he’s my sole male fashion icon.”

Taemin’s lips purse like he has chewed through a lemon. I have seen that face only once, lifetimes ago, on that morning after I gave him my ribbon. “Well, you wouldn’t like Key very much at all if I told you that he beat my ass in a closet once. If you knew that, you might understand the dread that washed over me when that poster looked me in the eyes! You’d probably take it down!”

Instantly, I retort, “I would do no such thing!” and Taemin huffs. “Why did he beat you in a closet, anyway? What did you do?”

Taemin blinks harshly. His eyes burn into me. “I didn’t do anything!”

I find that hard to believe. Not that Key disciplined Taemin, but that Taemin had done nothing to deserve it. Regardless, Taemin will confess to no wrongdoing, so I quietly resolve to consult Key later. For now, I pack my curiosity away and kiss Taemin’s cheek.

“Now you’re gonna play sweet?” Taemin raises his eyebrows.

“It’s now or never.” I raise my eyebrows too. “Take it or leave it.”

Drawing a deep breath to expel his sudden and unwarranted surge of jealousy toward Key— Key, who I have met only a handful of times— Key, who only knows me from those days of following Amber— Taemin fits his lips with mine.

The kiss seems to remind Taemin that I love him as someone different, someone more than an idol. When he parts from my lips to kiss my cheeks, forehead, neck, and every exposed inch of skin, he smiles.

“It’s you, by the way,” he whispers in my ear. His breath is warm, but it makes me shiver. “You are who I need. Or want. Or crave. More than expensive clothes or fancy bedrooms or big closets. More than anything, Lei. My Lei.”

Once upon a time, I didn’t know how to respond to his sudden declarations of love. I didn’t trust myself to speak. But now— now I couldn’t bite back the words on my tongue if I tried.

“It’s you,” I breathe past his lips. “You are who redeems broken flowers. You are the only person in the world who can pluck the moon from the sky, and you placed it in my clumsy baby hands—”

Taemin interrupts so quietly that I shouldn’t hear him whispering, “You speak so beautifully. Write it down. Write it down so I don’t forget, please. Write it down so I can’t forget.”

Needless to say, I will do as he asks— whatever he asks— after I express out loud, “You make me fall in love a million times a day, Taemin. My Taemin.”

5. Everything Has Changed (Lucas’s POV)

Life is different now that Taemin lives here. I'm not sure how much I like it.

I like the way Taemin looks at Lei. It's the way he's always looked at her. He squints to make out her features because he knows that she is the sun. I like the way she melts into his embrace. For the first time since we met, she seems to forget (at least for a second, which is sometimes as good as forever) that someone is always watching. I like the feeling that we are living in the happy ending of Lei's book.

Lei is happy— smiling. So I am happy— smiling.

I wanna say that I don't like how Taemin kisses Lei right in front of me and Mom, her family. I wanna say that affection should be displayed privately. That's what Lei always said. But I can't say that. I've never believed that. Not when Lei first said it, and not now.

I definitely don't like how Mom's eyes sparkle when she looks at Taemin. I don't like how I have to raise my voice to get her attention. Her attention used to come for free. Now, it fades when I blink my eyes. Now, when I open my eyes, she is looking at Taemin.

And I don't like how cold it is in Taemin's shadow. I don't wanna live here. And I hate how jealousy ties my stomach in knots. I've never been jealous before. I don't wanna feel like this.

I don't like that my smile hurts my cheeks. It's too heavy. My smile has never been too heavy before.

I don't like that there is nobody to share these twisting dizzying feelings with. There is nobody to make sense of them after Lei gulps down lunch and runs upstairs to him, leaving me alone with SpongeBob.

I don't like how eager I am to get out of the house once I think about Lei and Taemin cuddling and kissing and falling forever in love in my home. It's not that I don't support them. It's no that I don't ship them. I do! I always have! Nobody ships it more than me! It's just—

I don't know. I don't really want to think about my feelings anymore. They're making my head hurt.

After stepping into my slides, I shuffle past the kitchen and into Mom's office. Quietly, way too quietly for me, I say, "I'm gonna clean the pool, Mom."

When she looks up from her computer, Mom sees that I'm not entirely happy. That must scare her. I'm almost always entirely happy. She sets her phone down on her desk. "Okay, honey." She stands, and I smile because she has dropped a call for me. Maybe things haven't changed that much. "Let's go!"

Cleaning the pool is a weekly chore. Usually, Heechul and Lei help too. Heechul sits on a sun chair and supervises while sipping boba tea. Lei brings her BlueTooth speaker and plays music for us. Mostly SHINee. She's a good DJ.

This time, though, it's just me and Mom because Heechul was kicked out for fighting with Donghae and Lei is writing more memories with Taemin. And I miss them.

All of a sudden, I feel so sad that I can't really say anything as I do my chores. Can't really say anything unless I wanna spoil the happy ending. I don't. Lei deserves it. She has worked so hard for it. Can't really say anything unless I wanna ask Mom if I'm still her favorite son. And I'm not sure I do. I'm not sure I wanna hear the answer.

I'm kinda relieved when Mom leaves to answer the ringing doorbell. It gives me a chance to wipe at my eyes and catch my breath. I'm really relieved when she returns with Heechul following close behind.

Smiling, I wave with both hands. "Hey, Heechul!"

And Heechul waves back at me with the hand that isn't holding his boba tea. The world seems normal for a second when he rolls his eyes. "And where the hell is the girl? Doesn't Lei know that, as a member of this family, she has to help out around here?"

This family. My family. We're intact. Yay!

Mom returns to my side to help fish leaves out of the water. "Lei is busy, Heechul, so don't go looking for her."

Mom doesn't mention Taemin at first, probably because she knows that Heechul will flip his shit. He's insanely protective of Lei, and I don't think he even knows that she's dating Taemin yet. He won't like another boy moving in, especially not right after he (and Donghae) was just evicted.

So I bite down on my tongue, determined not to say anything about Taemin either. I kept the secret from Mom long enough, so I know I can keep it forever. The only problem is: Taemin starts throwing his shirts out the window like an idiot or something.

I watch, slackjawed, because I never knew Taemin would do something like that. Yeah, Lei mentioned that weird tantrum about Jaemin, but I thought she was just hyping it up for the story. I should've known better. If anything, Lei tries to downplay everything.

Heechul murmurs exactly what I'm thinking: "What the hell?"

And he runs to the window and screams, "STOP THROWING SHIT OUT THIS WINDOW!"

And I'm scared for Lei, but I kinda want Taemin to get in trouble.

Taemin doesn't get in trouble, of course. When Mom yells for Heechul to come back to help us, he scoops one of the shirts off of the ground. Taemin's Mom must write his name on his shirt tags too.

Squinting at the tag, Heechul reads, "Taemin," in an awestruck sort of voice. Weirdly quiet. Too quiet for him. His wide eyes burn into Mom. "Taemin is staying in your guest room? And he's throwing shirts out the window?"

The guest room? My forehead wrinkles. I would've sworn that Taemin would try to hang his stuff up in Lei's room. I think he's forgotten how to live without her.

Mom focuses intently on the water. The tips of her ears burn red, but she has an amazing poker face. We should go to the casino some time. With my brain and her poker face, we could be billionaires!

"Taemin will be living here from now on." She talks in that calm, even voice that I usually only hear at the studio. "Considering Lei's cleanly nature and Taemin's reported propensity for— er— passionate fits, I would assume that he is the one throwing his clothes around."

"Taemin moved in? Permanently?" Heechul's jaw drops. He doesn't even sound angry like I expected. He just sounds surprised. Almost starstruck.

Am I relieved? Or annoyed?

Mom nods, so Heechul asks, "Why?"

I expect Mom to answer again in her manager voice, but she doesn't. Smiling and swaying so suddenly that I think she's gonna fall face-first into the pool, Mom says, "They're in love!"

"Who?" Heechul bellows.

Can Lei and Taemin hear Heechul from the guest room? Or is even Heechul not loud enough to shatter their happy ending?

Heechul demands to know: "Who's in love?"

And I can't bite my tongue for another minute. I cheer, "Lei and Taemin!"

Man, I know I'm feeling too much at once. I know I'm on a roller coaster of emotions and it's hard to tell if I'm going up or speeding down, but one thing is clear: Lei and Taemin were meant to be. And I don't know how many 'meant-to-be's get to be, but I'm sure as hell glad that they do.

I don't know how Heechul can look so stunned by what must be the most obvious love in the whole world. I don't know how anyone can say that they haven't noticed Lei's ribbon around Taemin's wrist. I haven't been able to look away from it for months. I don't think I'll ever look away from it! It's like the sun, ya know? Too bright to ignore. Too beautiful to overlook.

Heechul wheezes, "Lei has a boyfriend?"

Mom nods. Her words can't make it past her smile, so I take it upon myself to correct Heechul. "Lei has a soulmate!"

Heechul blinks at me. "So let me get this straight." Sitting on the edge of a sun chair, he sets his drink down at his feet. His hand raises to pinch at the bridge of his nose. "On tour, Lei actually fell in love with her ultimate idol? The same boy she used to listen to every single night? And you—" he points at Mom— "not only did you fail to mention this to me, but then you let him move in without consulting me?"

"I don't have to run everything by you first, Heechul," Mom says coolly. "First of all, I only recently heard the sweetest love story of all time. Maybe if you didn't piss me off so bad that I had to kick you out, you would have been around to hear it straight from Lei's mouth!"

It's unlikely that Lei would have read the story in front of Heechul, I think, but I guess you never really know. Heechul's face turns red at Mom's berating.

"Anyway," Mom sighs, "who am I to stand in the way of true love?"

"You're her mother, for one thing." Heechul's brow furrows, and my eyes roll. There's nothing more annoying than when he tries to act more mature than Mom. "You're his manager AND her manager for another! How are you going to explain this shit to the agency when they have a super idol baby?"

Oh. My. God. Lucas Tue WOULD be a super idol!

At the thought of my future (inevitable) baby nephew, I drop my cleaning equipment and clap my hands. My face hurts from smiling again, but in the best way! I take it all back! Yeah, I want to be Mom's number one boy, but that doesn't mean that I don't want Taemin here. I do. I need him here because I want Lucas Tue!

Plus, I'm totally okay with losing my number one spot to Lucas Tue! He'll be everyone's favorite!

"Cut that out, boy!" Heechul huffs at me. "We don't want babies!"

"I do!" I argue with Heechul's glare. "I want a baby!"

Mom cuts her eyes at Heechul. "Stop looking at Lucas like that! And stop assuming the worst of Lei and Taemin! You know that she's much smarter and much more responsible than I ever was. If and when she starts expressing her love like that, she will be careful. Besides—" Mom smiles. She looks so much like Lei when she smiles. Pretty— "I don't subscribe to the belief that surprise miracles ruin lives."

Surprise miracles. That's what Lei was to Mom, right? I know that's what Lei was to me. She was my first friend in the agency. I think— no, I know that I've never felt lonely because I found her.

Surprise miracles. That's a kind of funny phrase. Nobody ever expects a miracle, do they? I don't know.

All I know is that Mom speaks like a poet. All I know is that I've never wondered who taught Lei to speak. They're so much alike, and I love them. I'm glad they found me. I'm glad we're together. I'm glad we'll always be together.

As I sit on the ground, I smile up at Mom. The sun breaks through a cloud and makes the winter air a little warmer. "When I drew our family tree the other day, I made a spot for Lei's future baby! I asked her to name him Lucas Tue, and I told her that we should just call him Tue. And then she said that she would talk it over with Taemin."

Smiling back, Mom ruffles my hair. "That's adorable, honey!"

Heechul is less enthusiastic. He doesn't smile. "They're already talking about kids? He's already moved in?" Heechul runs both hands through his hair. "Shit, this is moving too fast for me. Just yesterday, the girl was saying that she would never date!"

Grinning because Lei had grown past the word 'never,' I explain, "She only said that because she hadn't met Taemin yet. If you think about it, they're not moving that fast; they're just making up for lost time."

At dinner, right after Mom shoves Heechul out the door, I announce, “Mom! Since today’s special because Taemin moved in, I’m gonna drink my last beer!”

Mom gives me two thumbs up from the doorway connecting the dining room to the kitchen. So I open the fridge with a smile. But I don’t find my beer in the fridge. I find it at the table. Open. In front of Taemin, who holds a giggling Lei in his lap.

Just like that, I don't like him much anymore. I don't really care that Lei is in his lap; I just think it's a little tasteless that he presses a lingering sort of kiss to the shell of Lei's ear right in front of Mom. I think it's a little weird that Lei just lets him. But all I REALLY care about is my beer gone to waste and Mom's total lack of sympathy.

"That's mine!" I yell when Taemin reaches for the bottle, bringing it up to his lips that are swollen and red from kissing Lei all day. "I was saving that beer! I was looking forward to it the whole time we were on tour!"

Lei's blinking tells me that I should be embarrassed. I am, kinda. A little bit. I never lose my temper. It's just— those drinks are special to me! Mom orders them because she knows they're my favorite in the whole world. And now Taemin has stolen the last one! And there's no way he's enjoying it as much as I would!

"Sit down, honey," Mom tells me, "and I'll pour you some wine."

"I don't want wine!" I want to say, but I can't bring myself to talk back to Mom. I don't want her to glare at me like she glared at Donghae and Heechul before locking them out, so I just grit my teeth and obey. Life is so unfair sometimes.

"I'll take the wine," Taemin says softly. His voice doesn't sound right. It doesn't sound natural. How can he turn heads with the quietest whisper when I have to yell?

He gives Mom this eerily perfect, almost inhuman smile before holding the beer out to me. "Here. I only took one or two sips. Take the rest."

Call me a germaphobe if you want, but I'm not big on drinking after people— especially not people who have spent the day swapping spit with my (figurative) sister. I glare at the beer because I can't glare directly at Taemin. I know this politeness is an act, a scheme to get Mom to like him better. He's fake!

Lei thinks so too, judging by the look she casts over his shoulder as I cry, "I don't want anything you've put your lips all over! That's disgusting!"

Lei makes me sick. She says something cringy like, "I don't think your lips are disgusting Taem!" before kissing his pout.

I scream in disgust, but the kiss is brief. Cute. It makes something inside of me scream in joy. But that joy loses to the rage that burns in my gut when Mom smiles at their display. Joy dies when Mom ruffles my hair and sets the glass of wine before me, saying, "Share with Taemin, Lucas."

My face burns. Share? Mom has never told me to share before!

"Share," I hiss. The word is too foreign. I don't like how it sounds; especially not in Mom's voice, and especially not in my voice. I stab into a piece of beef in my bowl. "What haven't I shared with Taemin lately? I share my best friend, I share my house, I share my Mom, I share my beer—"

"Lucas," Mom says in that warning tone that she usually reserves for work as she eases into the seat beside me— the seat across from Lei and Taemin. She raises a single eyebrow at me. "Behave."

My eyes widen. Behave? Mom never tells me to behave at home!

This stupid little smile spreads across Taemin's face when our eyes meet. That smile convinces me that I can't stand him. We are enemies. Obviously, I like him as an artist. I like him as Lei's soulmate. But I don't like him as my brother. I hate him as my brother.

I swear, he winks at me as he gulps a mouthful of my beer. And if Mom wasn't watching, if I wasn't afraid of hitting Lei (and then getting my ass kicked), I would throw my chopstick at his head.

Sweetly, Mom asks Taemin, "Have you had a good day? Are you comfortable in the guest room?"

When somebody asks questions like that, you're supposed to say 'Yes and yes. Thank you, ma'am!' Apparently, nobody ever taught Taemin that.

Resting his chin on Lei's shoulder, he says, "I had the best day, but I think I would be a lot more comfortable if my closet was like Lei's."

Lei rolls her eyes as she swallows a mouthful of salad. “Taemin, we’ve talked about your closet fixation. You said you didn’t need—”

It's clear that Taemin was joking from the less polite, less eerily perfect smile twisting his lips as Lei scolds him. Mom doesn't seem to pick up on that, though. She argues, "Of course he needs a big closet, Lei! He's a pop star! If he's going to stay here, we'll have to renovate the closet to meet his needs."

A closet renovation? I've never had one of those! I mean, I've never asked, but still! Taemin gets his wish granted just because he made some stupid joke!

"Taemin—" he beams when Mom says his name— "I'll make some calls tomorrow. You'll have to room with Lucas or Lei during construction."

I give him this look that screams, "You're not rooming with me, butthead!" but he doesn't notice. He's too busy smiling at Mom and then laughing at the rolling of Lei's eyes to notice that he's made me lose my appetite. Maybe he wouldn't care anyway.

. . .

Lei finishes eating first. She pecks Taemin's forehead before excusing herself to her room. She has never stuck around at the table after finishing her meals, and I guess Taemin's presence doesn't inspire her to change that habit.

I lost my appetite during the closet renovation chat, but I refuse to leave Taemin alone with Mom. It's obvious that if I give him the slightest edge in our competition, he'll win.

In the end, Mom sends us upstairs together, despite Taemin's offer (which prompts my offer) to help with the dishes. So we see the sign pinned to Lei's door at the top of the stairs at the same time. Glittery pink letters scream, "Keep Out!"

Taemin glances at the sign before he reaches for the doorknob. Maybe he can't read English that well. Or maybe he can't read cursive. Or maybe he's never been on the receiving end of a 'Keep Out' sign. But I can, I can, and I have. So I ask, "What are you doing?"

Over his shoulder, Taemin glances at me. His hand is still around the doorknob. "I'm going to bed. Lei and I promised to sleep together every night."

I already knew all about their sleeping arrangement, but I didn't expect Taemin to mention it so plainly. So matter-of-factly, with only the faintest traces of a smile around his lips. It's weird.

I point at the sign. "It says 'Keep Out.' It looks like she changed her mind."

I'm being an asshole, and I don't like it. I know well that Lei didn't change her mind about anything, and Taemin should too. He should know that she never makes empty promises; she keeps even the broken ones. He should know that the sign is meant for me, and I'm just— I'm just sad, so I want him to be sad too, even if it's just for a second.

Man, I'm on my own nerves. I need to sleep this off.

Because I don't trust myself to open my mouth without saying more bullshit, I brush past him on my way to my room at the end of the hall.

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takoyakitenchou · 4 years ago

Note

can i have headcanons of seijuro and auden, pls?

yus here are some random hcs strewn about my google drive (and the margins of a few midterms lol)

everything under the cut bc it’s kinda long

Ibusaki Seijuro, fuckboy extraordinaire

height in 2nd year: 5′11 (180 cm)

weight in 2nd year: 160 lbs (73 kg)

preferred clothing brand: does not care as long as they’re Hawaiian shirts

favorite movie/show: Fight Club

favorite book: Shogun (Clavell)

top song on Spotify he’s on the Kurokiba family plan lol: 3 Nights by Dominic Fike

non-culinary activities: billiards and breaking (pop culture calls it breakdance but that is not the right term)

Sei is the first son of Ibusaki Shun and Sakaki Ryoko. He has his mother’s magenta hair and father’s slate grey eyes

Hawaiian shirts and Totsuki ties. Hawaiian shirts. He has an incorrigible belief that there is not enough color at Totsuki (obviously he hasn’t seen his hair lol) and therefore only wears the brightest colors possible. Sei can typically be seen in the early morning running daily laps around Legislation wearing his prized Birkenstocks

When he’s in the dorm or at Nakiri Mansion, however, he wears turtlenecks and sweatpants (with Birkenstocks)

Cooking in front of an audience is Seijuro’s true forte. He makes an elaborate live show out of every dish, spinning around in his basketball shorts, Hawaiian shirt, Totsuki tie, and Birkenstocks. Sei does not wear aprons lol but at the Autumn Elections, the Nakiri cousins persuaded Auden to coerce Seijuro into wearing at least semi-formal attire but he showed up in a flamboyant flannel instead. Wild af

He started getting into Spanish cuisine after he discovered Dia de los Muertos and the colorful calaveras, and he makes a point of making pan de muerto for the Nakiri-PSD members every year to celebrate the holiday. The only death he’s celebrating, though, is the death of Auden’s sanity (more on that later)

By virtue of his parents’ sake and smoked foods empire, he also dabbles in their specialties but he won’t be the heir to their company (working title IbuSakaki if I can arrange the kanji properly LOL). His max is fermenting sake for gang parties but after the SenAudpocalypSei (Sena + Auden + Seijuro + apocalypse), he starts smoking cigarettes and this is what really drives the final wedge between him and Auden

Sei and Auden stagiaire with the brothers Aldini and they learn how to use a mezzaluna. Extremely proficiently

One night he and his best bro Auden get on the drunker side despite both of them being notorious heavyweights, and they go to a tattoo shop and Sei gets six piercings in one ear. And two on the other. He doesn’t even notice until like six days later when one of the helixes on his left ear gets infected

Sei is the girl magnet of the school, and most people assume that he has like 593 girlfriends (or at least 593 girls that he fools around with), but in reality he’s almost always been in love with Marui Sena, and he’s actually not as much of a fuckboy as his reputation explicity states implies. But rep is rep, and he loves being the center of attention, so he lets the rumors spread like wildfire. And he does have a hoe-ish personality but this is completely repressed as soon as Sena transfers into gen 120 for high school

Sei’s one true weakness is his loyalty to Auden and his affections for Sena. Ultimately, his attempt to keep both on either side of him will serve as a catalyst for the SenAudpocalypSei and they’ll tear Totsuki up by its roots

He hangs out with Nakiri Jouichirou a lot (Asahi’s son, 117th gen and serving as the youngest lecturer in the history of Totsuki) and eventually learns the Crossed Knives technique from him. Jou acts more like an older brother than a professor to Sei and they grow extremely close

Kurokiba Auden, would-be Planet Earth narrator

height in 2nd year: 6′0 (183 cm)

weight in 2nd year: 165 lbs (75 kg)

preferred clothing brand: Billabong

favorite movie/show: Planet Earth

favorite books: Fountainhead (Rand) and The Prince (Machiavelli) his choices were heavily influenced by the Sorina and Akisako children

top song on Spotify: Wonderlust by Will Post

non-culinary activities: swim

Auden is the only child of Kurokiba Ryo and Nakiri Alice. When he was born, Souma and Erina were in that hazy pre-dating phase and so Alice and Ryo were unsure if the Sorina baby would be named Nakiri or Yukihira. They decided not to name their kid Nakiri Auden because Alice would do anything to avoid a repeat of the Nakiri cousins conflict (she inevitably has lingering resentments from being in Erina’s shadow for the first 18 years of her life) but Auden is the legal heir to the Nakiri-Totsuki Group. Obviously, Ryoali had no idea that Yukihira Kaede would end up not even being in the culinary business lol

The only potential competition for Auden’s inheritance ends up becoming Nakiri Jouichirou, who is the only one in the family from the next era who carries the Nakiri name. But Jouichirou is completely disinterested in running the empire so Auden has no trouble assuming the throne later on

Auden’s eyes are different reds. His heterochromia isn’t as noticeable as Kaede’s but his left eye is a few shades darker than his right. Especially after he joins the Elite Ten and gets no sleep (dark circles lol), he looks exactly like his dad but with shorter hair (think Central Arc but shorter). He uses his dad’s bandana on occasion but it only returns him to normal function. His voice is literal heaven. He could’ve been a narrator for Planet Earth.

He’s extremely soft and mild mannered, with none of his mother’s (and his father’s, to be fair) eccentricities. Auden is the most responsible out of the Elite Ten and pretty much the entire cast of the Genesis verse, 92′ers included. He has no emotional extrema (part of the reason why the bandana hardly affects him) and this is a relief for his parents, because it lessens his chances of dissociation and fugue

Auden specializes in Danish cuisine from a bit of a molecular standpoint, resulting from his time in the lab with his mom

In his second year of middle school, he dips a week to compete at national swim competition in Osaka and easily wins. He’s sponsored by Totsuki’s Sports Association and its founder/pres, Luc Tadokoro-Aldini

When he was younger, Auden spent a lot of time with Auntie Hisako, who drilled a whole bunch of medicinal knowledge into him because being a Ryoali child is a hazardous occupation so later when he meets Sei he finds out abt his smoking (Auden thought smoking as in cigarettes but Sei meant smoking as in food) and makes Sei promise not to smoke. It’s their first and only promise as best bros, and Sei picking up cigarettes in 3rd year pretty much destroys their friendship

Auden cuts the sleeves off of every t-shirt he owns, and ripped jeans are kind of his thing. Unlike Seijuro, who at least wears the Totsuki tie, Auden does not own a single article of the school uniform lol but Dean Hayama pretends not to notice

His goal is to be head chef for one of Tsukasa Eishi’s restaurants. This is pretty much the trigger for SenAudpocalypSei

I won’t go into too much detail about the SenAudpocalypSei bc that’ll take center stage in Renaissance anyhow but a vague summary is that Auden puts his career over his friends and Sei completely loses faith in him. Although the conflict stems from Auden’s career goals, it ends up revolving mostly around the love triangle between Seijuro, Auden, and Sena; ultimately they destroy a lot of the Totsuki dynamic that developed under Arato-Hayama Hikari’s tenure as first seat

#ibusaki seijuro #kurokiba auden #marui sena #genesis verse

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greyias · 5 years ago

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FIC: By the Guidance of Stars - Chapter 13

Title: By the Guidance of Stars Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight Rating: E (Chapter Rating: T) Genre: Angst, H/C, Romance, Humor Synopsis: The Coalition tries to heal in the aftermath of the Battle of Yavin 4, but not every wound is physical. A series of missing scenes set during the end of Shadow of Revan. Warnings: See Chapter 1. Author’s Notes: It’s done! It’s complete at long last! *joyful sobbing* Thank you all for sticking around this long, and through the long hiatus of writer’s block.

Usually Theron liked to take a little longer getting decent, but the ticking clock forced him to rush through getting cleaned up — just taking enough time to restore his hair to its normal glory. Only a poor spy would ignore a crucial detail like bedhead in covering up his, ahem, undercover activities.

By the time he’d emerged from the refresher, his lovely companion had managed to get herself back into most of that damnable, confusing armor and getup and look almost presentable. He’d rounded up and sorted through the haphazardly discarded articles of clothing while she hit the shower first, which probably made her task a little easier. She waited patiently for him to don ninety-percent of his own attire before quirking an expectant eyebrow at him.

“What?”

“I think someone might ask questions if I suddenly started walking around with my hair down.”

“I kind of like it.”

“I will keep that in mind,” she said, almost a little too patiently, “but I still need to put my hair back up.”

“What’s stopping you?” He grinned, already knowing the answer.

“Theron Shan,” she put her hands on her hips, the motion carrying a little more weight and authority now that she had those giant pauldrons back on, “you know very well that you still have my hair tie.”

“Oh? This?” Theron waved his wrist, in her direction where the little leatheris strap was still tied. “I was thinking about keeping it. I think it suits me.”

She pressed her lips together and shook her head, but he caught the edges of her mouth quivering in a repressed smile. “Unless you have something else I can use for my hair, you will need to return it to me.”

“If you insist.”

“Master Satele will be expecting us very soon,” she reminded him, “and I do not believe either of us really want to try and explain why we kept her waiting.”

“There you go,” he muttered as he carefully untied the little strap, “being all logical again.”

“I have never met anyone as dedicated to irrationality as you,” she quipped back, expertly gathering her hair up into a ponytail.

“It’s one of my charms.” He could have just handed over the hair tie and let her finish the job, but it seemed much more efficient, not to mention a convenient way of stepping in close again, if he tied it back into place himself. “It’ll work on you eventually.”

A hint of color rushed to her cheeks, already letting him know the effectiveness of said charms. She tried to cover up the reaction by smoothing her hand over her hair to check on the neatness of the ponytail.

“But you’re probably right — again,” he continued, “we shouldn’t keep the boss waiting.”

“No, of course not,” she said, and to her credit, only sounded the slightest bit flustered.

Their trip to the clifftop where Satele was overseeing the launch of Republic’s ships was probably a little more hurried than it would have been, had they dawdled a little less in the shuttle. He needed to shift personas now, try and make it look like they were merely colleagues to the outside observer. Something that might have been called into question right now with just how close they were walking together. As the clearing came into sight, he spied his mother’s silhouette in the distance. And if he squinted, it appeared that Jakarro, Kira, and several others were waiting. Okay, yeah, they couldn’t walk in together now, that’d be way too suspicious.

So he peeled off at the last second, to a narrow walk path someone had cut through the foliage.

“Where are you going?” she asked quietly.

He just shot her back a grin, and waved her on. If his ears didn’t deceive him, he thought he heard an exasperated sigh as he plowed through the underbrush. He gave his hair one last check before emerging from the tree line, just a few seconds before Grey did from the other path. Satele gave him a polite nod at his arrival, gaze focused on the various Republic vessels that were taking off. He had almost convinced himself that this had been the perfect ploy, when he caught Kira glancing at him, then back at her boss, before rolling her eyes.

Okay.

Maybe not one hundred percent effective. But it was all he could come up with at the last minute. His mind had been occupied with more important tasks than coming up with a proper cover story. Like making sure every article of clothing had been tucked back into all of the right places — and maybe sneaking in one last kiss before unlocking the shuttle door.

Thankfully Jakarro was less observant than a nosy ginger Jedi and hadn’t seemed to connect the dots quite as quickly. Theron was fairly certain that the Wookiee would have practiced far less discretion, and the loud protocol droid still strapped to his chest even less so. Besides, the nearly bone shattering farewell hug that Jakarro had swept the spy up in had been quite enough, thank you — especially considering it had smashed Theron’s face into C2-D4’s disembodied head for an up-close and personal goodbye. He was saved from spending the entire flight back to Coruscant in a kolto tank treating re-cracked ribs by his dashing Jedi Knight in shining armor rushing to his rescue.

“Jakarro,” she said amicably, laying her hand on the large Wookiee’s shoulder, “it has been such a pleasure working with you and Deefour in this endeavor.”

The ploy worked and he abandoned his current hugging victim to envelop her gauntlet with his big paw in a firm handshake. Theron tried to maintain his dignity and didn’t stagger away upon being released, but did move out of grabbing distance in case the smuggler decided resume his affectionate farewell.

“This has been the most fun the droid and I have ever had, tiny friend,” Jakarro roared in Shriiwook.

“You two certainly have a way of livening things up,” Grey agreed.

“I’ll say,” Kira added with a knowing smirk in Theron’s direction. Silently she mouthed the words ‘Motesta Driller’ at him.

He glared back at her. “Thanks. I had just forgotten about that.”

“Don’t lie, you’ll never forget.”

He refused to deign that with a response, and beyond their little group, he could make out Satele raising a brow in inquiry. That in itself was an uncomfortable reminder of the conversation she had nearly walked in on earlier that morning, not to mention his afternoon activities with the Grand Master’s favorite knight. He cleared his throat, and shot Kira a more serious look.

“You know,” she added quickly, turning back to the unlikely set of smugglers, “it really is a shame that you two have to leave so soon.”

“As lovely as this has been,” Deefour said, “we have some lucrative business opportunities awaiting us back on that pirate infested planet. Nothing to worry yourselves over — just normal, legitimate business.”

“Right,” Grey drew the word out to several syllables.

“Hopefully these ‘opportunities’ turn out better than your Manaan contract,” Theron said flatly.

“You take on one client that’s working for a secret cult trying to take over the galaxy and you never hear the end of it.” If Deefour could have shook his head, he would have. As it was, the color in his eyes just blinked in dissatisfaction.

“You have to admit,” Grey said, “that can be a sticking point for some.”

“I have implemented a new screening process!”

Jakarro growled, “We have no screening process!”

“Of course not.” Kira rolled her eyes.

“You know, you could join my crew if you’d prefer.” The lilt in Grey’s tone was teasing, but Theron was fairly certain the offer to adopt the wayward pair was serious. “The chances of you winding up on the bottom of the ocean floor again are very small.”

“As tempting as that sounds—”

“There is not enough room for the Mighty Jakarro on your tiny ship!” Jakarro cut the droid off, his word choice summoning flashbacks to the “pep talk” from the night before.

Mercifully, before the explanation on the Wookiee’s size could go down any unwanted path, Deefour tactfully added, “Another time perhaps.”

“The Force works in mysterious ways sometimes,” Satele remarked as the smuggler duo disappeared back into the tree line.

“I’m not sure ‘mysterious’ is the word I’d use,” Theron muttered.

The sarcastic comment didn’t phase her, instead Satele turned to Grey. “I have just finished a meeting with the Council regarding all that has transpired.”

The knight didn’t exactly stiffen, but there was the slightest shift in her posture. Straightening her back and folding her loose hands together in front of her, which forced the pauldrons on her shoulders to jut out. The natural, cheerful expression she’d been wearing for the previous conversation smoothed into a pleasantly neutral one. Her cape fluttered lightly in the breeze behind her as her transformation back into the perfect, model Jedi seemed almost complete.

It was a curious sight to behold, not unlike watching someone slip a mask into place. Theron didn’t quite know what to make of the uncomfortable feeling that bubbled up in his gut seeing it happen, even though he did the same thing all the time. When it came time to do the job, the mask was fixed in place. Another similarity between their chosen professions.

“The work that all of you have done against Revan and his followers is to be commended.” Satele’s tone had a note of officiality to it.

Curious, Theron glanced over at Kira. She had tucked her arms behind her back in an almost formal fashion and was more focused on the proceedings about to happen with something akin to pride than acknowledging the spy’s silent question. Interesting.

“You have a unique perspective and experience among all of us,” Satele continued, “especially when it comes to dealing with Vitiate.”

There was no flinch from Grey at the mention of the name, just a tip of her head in Satele’s direction of acknowledgment.

“The Republic is forming a taskforce to address the renewed threat that he poses, and I have Darth Marr’s word that the Empire is doing so as well. We need all of our best people working on this — and it only makes sense that the Order’s foremost expert on the matter represent us in this endeavor.”

All of those words were meant to be a compliment, the appointment an honor — but a trickle of dread dripped down Theron’s spine for some reason, settling in his gut hard. Ngani Zho liked to say that what most people called gut instinct was just the Force reaching out to them. That people would be better off listening to that. It was one of the memories of his mentor that had a tendency to either rankle or comfort him depending on the day. At this moment in time, though, it was unsettling. A bit like tasting the tang of ozone in the air before an oncoming thunderstorm.

“You are already familiar with the SIS’s liaison for the task force,” Satele said, rousing Theron back to the present.

He gave a half-hearted shrug at both Kira and Grey. “Hi.”

It wasn’t exactly the most witty of remarks, but he was still unsettled. It made perfect sense that the Republic would involve Grey in this, choose her to lead the fight against the Emperor. She’d already done it before after all. It would be more stupid to keep her sidelined really. But it also meant she’d now be on the front lines tracking Vitiate down. Confronting him again. The thought of that stirred at the unease in his gut and he wasn’t sure where it was coming from. Maybe the Force was trying to warn him of something to come, if it actually did deign to actually associate with him in any way, or maybe it was just his own feelings surging to the forefront and blocking out common sense.

Of course, the bright side of all of this meant he’d be seeing her again, probably sooner rather than later. Even if he’d prefer that reunion to be under much different circumstances.

“The council was unanimous on this decision, and one other.” Oblivious to Theron’s internal monologue and struggle, his mother continued to drone on. The sudden shifting of those giant pauldrons caught his attention, as Grey unclasped her hands in front of her and tucked them behind her back, feet spreading apart into an even more formal stance that matched Kira’s.

“Master Greyias Highwind,” Satele said proudly, “you have served both the Jedi Order and the Republic under extraordinary circumstances, time and time again.”

Grey’s serenely composed Jedi expression broke, blue eyes widening in realization, even as Kira’s lips started to twitch in a repressed smile. Almost as if she knew what was about to be said.

“You embody every ideal in the Jedi Code—”

Theron managed to bite back a laugh, just barely, and was struggling to hold back a full-on grin as he caught Grey’s gaze. He physically pressed his lips together tightly to try and hold back in his reaction, mind immediately straying back to the shuttle. He caught just she slightest purse of her lips and light flush of extra color rush to her cheeks, making him wonder if their thoughts were running in sync at this very moment.

Well, almost every ideal, he thought to himself with no small amount of smugness. The important ones anyway.

Satele either missed, or was intentionally ignoring the silent byplay going on. “It is with great pride and honor as Grand Master, that I name you Battlemaster of the Jedi Order.”

A wave of pride rushed over Theron then, watching the new Battlemaster blink, once. Twice. Her lips twitching as if fighting a smile down and to live up to that embodiment of every ideal of the Jedi Code she was supposed to represent. As much as he had his own issues with the Jedi, it was readily apparent that she adored the Order she worked for. And seeing her so happy and honored was… it was something alright.

“I thank you and the Council for this honor, Master Satele,” Grey had almost, almost managed to keep the smile out of her voice, so she could retain the appearance of that proper, perfect Jedi. “I will do everything I can to fulfill my duties with wisdom, skill, and humility.”

“You have my every confidence,” Satele said, her own serene countenance cracking, a rare and genuine smile emerging underneath.

Theron watched the interaction with probably a little more interest than called for. He wasn’t sure he had ever seen that warm, indulgent expression before on Satele. Prior to this whole business with the Revanites, Theron’s dealing with his mother had been limited and always very tense. He’d always cast the blame outwards for that, it was easy, almost natural to do so. But it was possible there was… more than just a little bit of baggage that made its way into each of their interactions. Listening to Grey the night before — and watching the two of them now — was starting to make him reconsider if that baggage somehow prevented him from keeping a more open mind.

Whenever he talked with Satele about anything approaching a personal subject, Theron felt himself revert into that angry teenager left to wander the galaxy on his own. He’d learned quickly that it was best to make the first strike to put his opponent on the offensive — and for some reason when it came to his mother he always reverted to that mentality.

When they’d talked back on Coruscant for the first time as mother and son, she had promised him she would always be there if he needed her. And she… had been. He was alive now because she had convinced Jace to bring the Republic fleet to Duros when he’d asked. And she’d forged a Coalition with Darth Marr on his (and Grey’s) word — granted they’d had the data to back it up. But it very easily could have gone the other way. And she’d supported all of his judgement calls when it came to the mission here on Yavin. Had stood next to him for the briefing with Trant. She’d even given him, granted in a slightly underhanded way, his old ship back.

And yes, she had tried to meddle yesterday, but it hadn’t been unprovoked when he replayed the memory of the incident. And it maybe hadn’t actually been about what he’d been assuming at first.

The more thought he gave it, the more he had to wonder if he was… missing anything. By just reacting all of the time. And not listening. Always pushing any personal interaction they had into an argument. Shutting her out of his life completely, instead of… not.

Not that he had any idea of how to go about that. Probably best to not think about it, keep focused on the here and now.

“Our first priority is to understand what happened the other night,” Satele was still addressing her new Battlemaster. “Even if we can guess at what his ultimate goal likely is, we need to understand where he might have gone if we are to bring an end to his threat. We will need more intelligence before we can be sure.”

“That’s probably where I come in,” Theron cut in, shooting a look over at Grey. It was probably the easiest way to try and explain their earlier conversation back in the shuttle, at least while everyone else was listening.

“It is a large task,” Grey said evenly, matching his gaze, “and we must all do our part.”

If Satele sensed any underlying tone or tension to their words, she didn’t show it, instead turning her attention above to where the Coalition’s ships were filling the sky. Behind the gas giant, Yavin’s sun was beginning to set in its orbit, its rays bouncing off of the red planet and reflecting onto the moon. A deep red hue filled the valley beyond them, haloing the ships in a a beautiful but haunting light.

“Not sure I’ll ever get used to the sunsets here,” Theron said absently, watching the glow creep across the canopy below. “Kind of glad I don’t have to.”

“It will be nice to return to some semblance of normality,” Satele agreed. “This entire endeavor has been… different. In both good and disturbing ways.”

That was putting it lightly. “Yeah, I mean, as happy as I will be to get off this rock, I’m not exactly looking forward to trying to explain this whole mess to everyone else back on Coruscant. Conspiracies, government infiltrations. Not just one Revan back from the dead but two. Or whatever that was. I’m not even sure I understand half of what went down — kind of sounds insane when I say it aloud.”

“I would be happy to assist with that,” Satele said cautiously, “with your permission of course. I am more… familiar with matters of the Force.”

He arched a brow at her, trying to contain his dubiety. “You sure? It’s going to be a lot of boring meetings.”

“You forget Theron,” she said, with just the tiniest hints of humor bubbling to the surface, “I studied the art of patience under Ngani Zho too. I am more than prepared for a few skeptical Republic officials.”

“This I have got to see.”

The smile he exchanged with her wasn’t infused with the soft and gentle warmth that he’d witnessed a few moments prior, but unlike all of their previous interactions, nothing in it was forced. It was a little more conspiratorial, with just a hint of mischief dancing in the eyes. And if he wasn’t imagining things, she shot him back one that was almost identical.

Huh.

Maybe that’s where he got it from.

Beyond his mother, he caught a glimpse of Grey, still standing at attention, gaze directed up to the sky as if she was trying to blend into the background and give the parent-child moment some semblance of privacy. Despite the projected formality and image of practiced disinterest, the corner of her lips were still quirked up ever so slightly.

“It is a long journey back to Coruscant,” Satele’s expression had shifted back into her normal, placid expression, “we should not keep the Dauntless waiting.”

“Probably need to go grab my ship in that case.” He indicated the path he’d exited from the jungle. “Speaking of… thanks. For that.”

If Theron hadn’t been watching, he might have missed the change in her expression. Like the subtle ripple on a still pond, it was just the barest of things. Brows arching up ever so slightly, the laugh lines he had never noticed as such easing just a little as she nodded an acknowledgement. It probably should have infuriated him that she didn’t say anything more, but oddly enough, it didn’t. There were others around, which would have made it awkward if she had, and maybe… maybe it was good enough as a start. The flight back to Coruscant was a long one, and there’d be plenty of time to talk more if he really wanted. Theron wasn’t really sure if he was ready for that yet — so best to let things rest where they landed for now.

He watched her exchange some parting words to both of the Jedi that remained, before sending him one last look as she made her way back to the shuttle that would take her back to the Dauntless.

Realizing that it was now just the three of them, Kira gave a slow, wandering glance at her present company, before clearing her throat. “You know, I think Teeseven probably needs some help with those preflight checks. Make sure we’re ready to leave this Dark Side infested place for good.”

“If there is an issue with the ship, I can help—”

“Nah, I got this,” Kira said, tipping her head in Theron’s direction. “It’ll give you time to wrap up things.”

Grey gave her grateful smile. “Thank you, Kira.”

“Anytime.”

They both watched her departing form, the silence hanging in the air almost as if it was a physical thing. Theron shifted on the balls of his feet, glancing back out at the valley and jungle beyond, bathed in the red light of the sunset, before glancing back to see an expression directed at him, caught somewhere between irritation and amusement.

“Were you ever planning on telling me that was actually your shuttle?”

The laugh he let out was only half nerves, half relief that she’d broken through the barrier of quiet. He wasn’t meaning to stall, but… yeah. Yeah, he totally was. He didn’t want to do this.

“I did tell you,” Theron’s protest was about as weak and transparent as his attempts at delaying the inevitable, “you just didn’t believe me.”

She just shook her head, still unable to make up her mind whether she wanted to laugh or sigh in exasperation. In his head, the chrono that had been counting down from the moment he’d woken up hit zero, and with it, a feeling of some finality settling deep in his bones. As unexpectedly amazing as the day had turned out, he now had to face the worst part of it: the fact that it was now over.

“I’ve never been a fan of goodbyes,” he said quietly.

“We are on the same task force, Theron.” Grey cocked her head slightly, giving him a look he couldn’t quite decipher. “Do you really expect we won’t see each other?”

“No, it’s not that,” he tried, “I’ve just… usually I don’t work such long stretches with the same people like I have this time… what I mean is…” Hell, why was this so difficult? “I don’t usually see the same people day-to-day, and despite how much fun this planet has overall not been, I...”

“I’m going to miss you too, Theron,” she said gently. “For however long this next time apart will be.”

He shot her an awkward smile, trying to shrug off his chagrin over being unable to actually say those words aloud. There was a part of him that hated how she was able to so effectively reduce him to this rambly state without doing a damned thing, and how she seemed to always see right through it to the heart of the matter. Or rather… just to him. Which was… not something he was supposed to want or like. But he did.

More than he should have, considering that most spies would recoil at having anyone be able to see the real person underneath all of the layers carefully presented the world — but she wasn’t just anyone. She was… her. And maybe it was a dangerous thing, a liability even, to not just place his trust in someone like this, but allow himself to get lost in them.

But he was Theron Shan, and he thrived on danger. When he looked at her — and the way her smile reached her eyes when set his heart racing like all of the best adrenaline rushes he’d ever chased — he knew that she was the furthest thing from a liability.

So this whole thing, whatever it was, was fine. Good even. Really and truly.

“I don’t exactly have a good track record with this sort of thing,” he admitted.

“It is new for me as well.”

“What I said before,” he said a bit clumsily, “about finding time… I still don’t know what my schedule looks like. But if our paths do cross again, sooner rather than later…”

She reached across the distance between them, twining their gloved fingers together. “I suppose we will just see what happens when that moment arrives.”

“I guess so,” he let out a half-laugh. “Sorry, I suck at this.”

“You are not as bad as you think,” she said gently, before sobering, “but Theron?”

“Hmm?”

“I meant what I said earlier too,” she looked him straight in the eye, as if it was important that he understand her, “about Vitiate. He’s dangerous.”

“I know,” he reminded her, “but we’ve got this. It’s going to work out in the end, I’m sure of it.”

Even if he had to turn the galaxy upside down to keep his promise. Whatever it took.

“And here I thought you were calling me the optimist.”

“Hey, I learned from the best.” He gave her a cheeky grin.

She gave him that look again that he adored, the one where she couldn’t decide if she wanted to kiss him or smack him. It was something special — and more importantly — it was his. And he’d do everything in his power to protect it.

“Stars, I really want to kiss you again,” he murmured.

“What’s stopping you?” She looked almost deceptively innocent as she peered back at him, but he caught the hints of an impish smile forming.

“Might land you in a world of trouble if someone saw us.”

She made a show of looking left. And then right. Up to the empty watch towers, then at the blazing sunset filled with ships leaving the atmosphere, down to the jungle surrounding them, before looking back at him. The mischievous smile was fully in place now, all traces of that serene mask fully tossed away now that they were alone. That perfect Jedi was gone, leaving this ridiculous dork in her place.

“I don’t see anyone watching,” she said lightly.

That was all the invitation he needed, and without another word he pulled her in for one last, slow lingering kiss. He still didn’t have the words for whatever this thing was, but he did know one thing.

It was worth fighting for.

#swtor fanfiction #theron shan x jedi knight #Theron Shan #Female Jedi Knight/Hero of Tython #otp: adorkable #oc: greyias highwind #SoR Fic O Doom #swtor #fanfic #this is it!#the last one!#(for this story)#(i still have the forged alliances fic)#(but that is a project for another day)#greyfic

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razorblade180 · 5 years ago

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Lasting Embers pt18: Brewing Storm

[Blake’s Study]

*giant bookshelves on each side and a skylight up top. A desk with a stack off papers on it with Sun hard at work*

Sun:*wearing reading glasses*.......

“You look good in glasses; so official”

Blake:*wearing nothing but one of his shirts half buttoned up and no pants* You’re up early; I woke up and was surprised you weren’t there.

Sun:Had work that needed to be processed. Almost had it done before our unexpected reunion last night. I wish I was in bed.

Blake:*drapes herself over him* Not surprising, you barely got a wink of sleep last night. *kisses his neck and face*

Sun:*chuckles* Gee I wonder why? *reaches his left hand up to rub her ear.

Blake:*purring* Can you blame me? I spent ten years missing you. I like your new clothes by the way; orange is nice on you.

Sun:Thanks, I was going for a sunset vibe. After all my “moon” wasn’t around to make the tougher decisions. So I had to channel some of my inner Blake hehehe.

Blake:Active High Leader Sun Wukong. Looks like the people don’t even need me. Maybe you should keep the job for good.

Sun:Please don’t joke like that. I don’t know how I’ve kept this thing going for a decade but you can have it all back. I miss being second in command.

Blake:Well it’s a good thing I’m more than happy to be back. *picks up some papers* Is this the report from Illia?

Sun:Yeah, prevented another assassination attempt on Whitley. Not to mention the our unwanted guest that were promptly dealt with thanks to the little terror of the desert. Jael really is something else.

Blake:I met up with them before I came here. She looks healthy which is good; also she’s grown like a weed. Wouldn’t be surprised if she’ll outgrow my clothes in awhile.

Sun:She definitely has her father’s intensity that’s for sure. I’m worried about these attacks; there’s never been such a drastic attempt like this. Especially back to back. How did the last part of your mission go?

Blake:A lot of explosions in a mine. *pulls out a map with dozens of red x’s on it* we hit every single one we found. Even went around the world twice for a year just to be sure. Maybe this is a last stitch effort?

Sun:.....I hope so. *stands up* you might wanna get dressed. Adam should be back in a few hours, there’s a festival tonight for your return, I’m sure Illia wants to spend time with you, not to mention your parents.....

Blake:Sigh, no rest for the wary. Guess I’ll go shower, but.....*grabbing Suns arm* you’re helping me wash. High Leader’s orders.

Sun:*smiling* Well if they’re orders!

[Jaune’s Porch]

*Ruby sitting down and taking off her shoe*

Yang:*opening the door*I was wondering where you were. Go for an early jog or something?

Ruby:Visited dad. Felt nostalgic about seeing our home again. Almost nothing as changed; except the boarded up doggy door....

Yang:Oh....how long?

Ruby:Three years; Zwei just ran out of bark he said. Wish I got to hold him one more time.

Yang:Yeah that’s rough. *sits next to her* So, how long you’re bunking with us? Not that anybody wants you gone but I assume you want your own place?

Ruby:My home burnt down before our adventure started. Sure I could easily get another one but.....I’m in no rush to be alone.

...........

Ruby:This is gonna sound terrible but a piece of me wishes I didn’t have to deal with readjusting to life. Maybe our last mission should’ve been my-

Yang:Don’t say it...*holds her hand tightly* there’s no way I could’ve lived with myself coming home without you.

Ruby:....I’m sorry. I should no better than to say things like that by now.

Yang:You’ll get through this, with me. Just like always. I’m always in your corner sis. *smiles*

Ruby;....*hugs her tightly* Yang, I don’t know what I’d do without you. Thank you for everything; for being my sister. *whimpering*

Yang:*looking up at the sky*

*Dark clouds forming in the distance*

Yang:*rubbing Ruby’s head* (A storm is coming. Why.....am I worried?)

[Vale]

*alarm clock ringing*

Tenzen:*in his bed*Zzzzzzz

Ren:*shaking him* Tenzen wake up! You’ve over slept again.

Tenzen:Zzzzzz

Ren:Pancakes are made.

Tenzen:Zzzzzzz

Ren:Yujin made them...

Tenzen:*jumps up* Lies! She makes french to- what time is it?

Ren:Past sunrise; your mother is probably waiting for you to show up and running drills again.

Tenzen:Shoot! She’ll probably ramp up the difficulty now. *starts zipping around his bedroom causing the lights to flicker*

Ren:You might blow a fuse at this rate *catches him as he passes by* remember to eat before moving like that or you might just ended up worn out and sleepy again.

Tenzen:Valid point, I’ll probably end up grabbing some snacks to eat before I see her.

Ren:*holds up a protein bar* here, I doubt you have time to make breakfast.

Tenzen:You’re the best. I’m surprised you haven’t made breakfast yet.

Ren:*points to luggage outside* I’ve been preoccupied this morning.

Tenzen:*eyes widened* Already going on the medical trip? Didn’t think you’d pack so soon.

Ren:Nora is finishing up your training, thanks to you everything is paid for, and hopefully by next month you’ll ace the entrance exam to Beacon. Looks like you don’t need me around anymore.

Tenzen:Don’t phase it like that. *hugs him* I’m always gonna need you dad. Have a safe trip and speedy recovery! Looking forward to dancing with you whenever you return.

Ren:As long as there’s no camera; I’ll leave internet fame to you.

Tenzen:Deal! *suited up in his previous attire* well I’m off to another brawl in the emerald forest.

Ren:Some advice, go after your mom first.b

Tenzen:Got it! *dashes away*

Ren:*still holding the protein bar* Hehe Nora he is like you through and through sometimes.

•

*Blake fully clothed in a version of her father’s chief outfit. Complete with the the purple and gold family colors*

Blake:*drying her hair* You know it’s impolite to spy on people right? *looks up at the rafters*

Adam:I see you haven’t lost a step. *jumps down* also you sort of hired me to spy remember? *kneels*

Blake:*opens her arms* Stop with the formalities and greet me like an old friend. Or did you forget how to do that?

Adam:Sassy as always I see. *hugs her* Good to see you safe; I’ll admit I had my doubts.

Blake:You think you’d know better than to bet against your first pupil. *moves his hair* how’s seeing the world with two eyes?

Adam:Bright hehehe, but really nice. You’ve been back long?

Blake:Just since last night. Stopped by and visited your family. Jael has become quite the looker.

Adam:It terrifies me every day.

Blake:*snorts* got to talk to her a little bit. She seems lonely. Also missing you a lot.

Adam:Things haven’t exactly been....easy for her. It’s a lot to talk about.

Blake:Well there’s gonna be special spot here for higher ups only during the festival. You could bring your family without worrying about people seeing you; maybe we could all catch up them?

Adam:*rubbing the back of his neck* That might do her some good honestly. I sort of think I’m screwing up the one good thing I’ve brought into this world.

Blake:*smiles*......

Adam:What?

Blake:It feels really good to just talk to you again. We’ve been through some shit you and I. I missed this.

Adam:*smiles* You’re such a sap....

Blake:Wow! Okay you jerk. *folds her arms and smiles* the real sap is you; family life suits you well.

Adam;It’ll probably do wonders for you too. You’re only thirty something. It’s not too late.

Blake:*blushing* Mind your business! I just got back and that’s what you want to say!?

Adam:I’m just saying you might want to think about it. Sun won’t admit it but he was always his happiest spending time with Jael or any kid that ran up to him. *walking away*

Blake:......

Sun:*walks in* Oh hey loser. *holds out fist*

Adam:Sup loser *fist bumps him* see you tonight with my family.

Sun:Aye tell Jael her uncle I’ll make her favorite dessert! *grinning*

Adam:She’s supposed to be eating healthy! *leaves*

Sun:This is why she likes me more! So how was seeing your old everything basically.

Blake:*red*.........fruitful.

•

*Tenzen sprinting down a dirt path connecting to the forest. Clouds looming over him*

Tenzen:(I hope mom isn’t too mad I’m late. If she is this storm probably won’t my situation. Maybe I should’ve-) *immediately tries to stop. Skidding several feet anyways* What the!?

*trees snapped in half and bullet holes everywhere. Prints of human and multiple grimm types around the area with some blood as he looks around*

Tenzen:......(This isn’t right. So many grimm prints but not much blood. Who could get away from these numbers? Why would different grimm attack in these numbers?) Something doesn’t feel-

“tu...rn arou...nd.....”

Tenzen:*flips around and draws his weapons* Who’s there!? Fair warning I- *gasp* Emerald!?

*a flickering illusion of Emerald dawning a black and green trim version of her outfit points to a bush before fading *

Tenzen:*Walking through the bushes and looking*Emerald.......?

Emerald:Hey kid *cough* up here.....

Tenzen:*drops his weapons on sight; his face going pale* Guys?

*Mercury unconscious and bleeding on Emeralds back. Her chain dangerously close to being around their neck as they hang from a tree*

Emerald:*beaten up* H...help....

Tenzen:*snaps the tree limb off and catches both of them* What happened to you two!? Why are you-*yanked by the color*

Emerald:They....know where *cough* Nora.......

Tenzen:..........

[Launching cliff]

Nora:*sitting down* Late again I see; what am I going to do with that boy? We did spar pretty rough so maybe I can give him a break this one time.

*pit pat pit pat pit......*

Nora:Hmm? *turning around* finally decide to show up Ten- *gasp!!*

*several cult members stand facing her. Dozens of ursas, beowulves, and death stalkers behind them*

M:I’m sorry, were you expecting someone else? *eyes glowing read*

*the rain started to fall.....*

#rwby #rwby lasting embers #blake belladonna #sun wukong #adam taurus #yang xiao long #ruby rose #rwby blacksun #lie tenzen #lie ren #nora valkyrie #renora #emerald sustrai

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surveys-at-your-service · 5 years ago

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Survey #228

“blood on her skin, dripping with sin, do it again, living dead girl.”

How many sugars do you like in your tea? Man, I find A LOT of tea or coffee questions in surveys. Anyone who reads these knows by now I hate tea. Ever heard of a band called The Dresden Dolls? I fucking love "The Gardner," but it's the only song I know. What was the last movie you saw that made you laugh out loud? Idk, I watch movies so rarely. Who’s your favorite superhero? Deadpool, if you count him (technically an anti-hero, I kno). Otherwise, I don't really know. Possibly Spider-Man. What does your regular attire consist of? Pajama pants and tank tops lmaoooo. Popsicles or Ice cream? Ice cream. Are you good at solving math problems in your head? It's almost impossible for me to. Even simple addition. What kind of M&Ms do you like best? Normal chocolate ones. What is the last thing you tried on in a store? Uhhhh I think formal shirts when I was actually working on getting a job... Are you comfortable enough around your friends to change in front of them? No. Does your best friend wear makeup? No. Have you ever dated someone in secret? No. How do you get splinters out? Tweezers. Do you ever send people good morning texts? Sara sometimes. Is there someone who makes you blush when you just say hi to them? No. Do you kiss your pets? Of course. Why did you go to church the last time you went? My then-friend was having a serious "reborn" and devout Christian phase. Who’s the richest person you know? I don't know. How old is the oldest person you know? I also don't know. 90-something. Who's the last person who asked your name? My math professor needed a refresher when handing out test results. Have you ever been so drunk you couldn’t even talk right? No. Do you know anyone with a million middle names? I know someone with three or four. Do online dating sites ever work? For some people. When you were a teenager, did your parents set rules about dating? No. Have you ever lived with a person who you tried to avoid at all costs? No. Have you ever committed a crime that directly harmed another person? No. Did you grow up in an urban, suburban, or rural area? I guess suburban/rural mix? Which disease do you personally think is the most horrible? Alzheimer's. What is your worst childhood memory? I mean it depends on what stage of childhood, but I'm going to assume you mean like, pre-pre-teen years. In that case, just my parents fighting. Do you remember where you first drove to after getting your license? N/A What did you get into trouble for the most when you were a kid? Fighting with my little sister, probably. What is your biological sex? Female. What is the oldest gaming console you own? A GameBoy Advance. Of all the houses you’ve lived in, which has been your favorite? If you excuse the bad memories, my previous one. Do you get sunburnt easily? Oh yeah. What’s the color of your front door? White. Your favorite ice cream flavor: It alternates between just plain chocolate and vanilla. How many people have you been really in love with? Twice. Your favorite song at the moment: "Necessary Evil" by Motionless In White feat. Jonathan Davis. What’s most important for you? My well-being. Do you snore? No. What are you looking forward to right now? Mark's next big project comes out October 30th and I can't physically wait, but after that, all I care about is December getting here so I can go up to Sara's. What’s the earliest you’ve ever had to wake up for work? N/A Do you use reusable shopping bags to reduce waste? No, but I wish... I don't do the shopping in my house, so it's not really my decision. How many times have you moved? Three times *really*, but you could kinda say four when Jason, me, and our two friends/another couple moved into an apartment together; my name was in no way involved as being an official resident, but it eventually came to a point where I was there every day and night for quite a while. Do you know anyone who has changed their first name? Yes. Do you know anyone who has been on life support, and survived? No. Do your parents have a strong relationship together? HA HA fuck no. They've been divorced since I was like 16. Have you ever read any of Charles Darwin’s works? No. Do you think there are more dimensions than what we’re able to perceive? I lean towards no, but it's possible, sure. Does anyone in your family have schizophrenia? Yes. Do any of your neighbors have loud children? No. Who would you say is your hero? Mark, my mom, Sara. You can only shop at one store for the rest of your life where would it be? If you're talking about in order to buy everything, from food to clothes, I'd have to say Walmart. Do you text type or do you type out all your words? Mostly the latter, but I'll use "lol," "otw," stuff like that sometimes. Have you ever given money to a homeless person? No. I'mma be real honest, I don't think I ever would. I just DO NOT trust people. It's fact that the money is usually used for alcohol and drugs, and I've seen news of more than enough posing assholes. Who are you living with? My mom and pets. What are your opinions on colored contacts? Cool as fuck, wish I could wear them. Are you comfortable with your body? Fuck no. What is one thing in your life that is no longer there, that you miss? A social life. What do you believe is the best thing about being a kid? No responsibilities. Life is just simpler. Last time you had a s'more? Shortly after Sara left when she visited. We had leftover stuff so Mom and I made a few. Do you like peppermint candy? Yeah. Do you like spearmint or peppermint gum better? Peppermint, I think. Do you prefer fruity flavors over minty ones? Yes. Do you have a little Pink brand dog from Victoria’s Secret? No. What is the last thing you blew? Idr, I'm sure some kind of food. What’s the last gift you received? Sara got me a mug with a super relevant Markiplier quote sobs- What did your parents do today? I don't live with my dad so idk, but I know my mom's at work. What is the symbol for your type of computer? It's just the brand name. Do the clothes you’re wearing have any type of symbol on them now? Skulls. Do you like peas? NO. Where is your favorite place to be massaged? I wouldn't know, but probably my shoulders? Do you like composition books, or spiral notebooks? Spiral notebooks. The person you like, what color eyes do they have? Brown. So what is your favorite physical feature about that person? She has a freckle on her hip that is so fucking cute. What kind of four wheeler do you have? I don't have and never have had one. Do you live where there are a lot of cows? Sure, I guess. What is your favorite animal with spots? Probably snow leopards. Give me your opinion on sports. I don't have a problem with them (save for like, boxing and ones that can seriously harm people), but I'm not into them. Why do you play the sports you do? N/A Do you actually care about your school work and what grades you make? Yes I care. Do you have a typical family, or a weird one? Honestly a pretty broken one. Do you have a favorite letter? Probably "z," particularly in cursive. From the room you're in can you hear a door shut when someone arrives there? Sometimes. What states have you been to in the past year? Just NC and Illinois. Well, I obviously flew over other states, but I've only stayed in those two. Have you ever sleepwalked? I have not. Do you want children? Why/why not? "Hell no. I don’t like kids and I don’t want the rest of my life to be centred around one." <<< That's a great description for myself as well. I know I would be a fucking awful mother, too. Not as in I'd be mean to my child, absolutely not, it's just I barely manage to take care of myself a lot of the time. I'm not emotionally fit for that job and the stress it entails, at all. And yeah, being willing to make someone else my world is something I'm never doing again. I want my attention to stay on myself, my spouse, and pets. Do you have any credit card debt? Hi, I'm 23 and don't own and never have owned a credit card. Who do you go to for relationship advice? Honestly, I don't. I look within myself for those answers, really. I think I'm pretty intelligent and aware of how to maintain a healthy relationship. There's been times I've talked to my mother about things, but yeah, she's not the greatest to talk about all that with. What was your favorite way to spend a summer day as a kid? Swimming. Have you ever been scammed? Not successfully. I think. Did you ever take a personal finance class in school? None were offered at my high school. I don't know if they are now at my college, though, but I don't think so. They need to be, and mandatory. I don't have the slightest goddamn clue how to handle money. How’s your mental health? Are you feeling well? I'm going through a rough patch right now. School is stressing me. Not having a job and struggling with money to the extreme is about to make my hair fall out. Do you struggle with acne? Not anymore. Did you have a Xanga page back in the pre-Myspace days? I've never had a Xanga. Around what year did you start using the internet, anyways? I was like, 9-10? Maybe even earlier with Webkinz and Neopets, idr. I know I started RP in 2005, and that's when I was very actively online. Do you have any uncommon interests or hobbies? A few. Forum RP is definitely the "weirdest," hence why I hide it publicly. Then there's photographing roadkill. The LOOKS Mom tells me I get when I'm on the ground next to a dead animal, lol. I've had questions, stares, and cars turn around aplenty to make sure I'm okay. I'm really self-conscious about doing it, but I really love doing it for the purpose of forcing eyes onto just how brutal roadkill can be because of us, and the validating comments I've gotten about it online pushes me to keep going with it. Well, that and of course just sincerely enjoying it. That being said, I like gore - in moderation, and some kinds are just off-limits without me getting grossed out. "Vulture culture" (the use of naturally deceased animals in some form of artwork) is also something I am very very interested in. Wet specimens of anything are cool as all fuck. There's a load of unconventional things I enjoy. What temperature do you keep your thermostat set at in the winter? Uhhhh idk, 70-something. Have you ever fostered an animal? No, but I am 110% fostering opossums once I get my own place and am authorized and properly equipped to do so. What is something you thought you’d never like, but you enjoy now? Hm. OH, ketchup. I hated that shit as a kid. Did your parents ever not let you watch any television shows as a child? Yeah, but none in exact come to mind. Basically like, MTV and stuff like that was a big no. How old were you when you had your first kiss? Who was this kiss with? I just turned 16. It was with Jason, my first "real" boyfriend. Have you ever betrayed one of your parents in any way at all? Doing what? I don't think so. What are your favorite stores to go to when you visit the mall? Hot Topic and Spencer's is like all I care about that we have available near here. Has anyone ever told you they don't like the way you run your life? Ohhhhhhhhhh, I wasn't the only one who experienced that with her. At all. Does it bother you when you comment someone’s pictures and they don't even comment you saying ‘thank you’ or comment one of your pictures? I find it rude if they in no way acknowledge a compliment, yes, but you don't have to say thanks. Just like, like/hearting the comment (I'm using Facebook as my platform here) says enough to me that you're appreciative. Now for the second half of the question, that's stupid. I don't care if someone doesn't comment on a picture. Or anything. When was the last time you had a shot? Are you behind on those right now? I had a few numbing shots into my gums when I had a cavity filled early this month/late last month since my tongue ring finally caused one. I'm not behind on any required ones. Have you ever had a really rare disease, virus, or illness? Really rare, I don't think so? When was the last time you just, genuinely went somewhere with friends? Been a looooooong time, idk. Probably not since I was still friends with Colleen. Would you consider yourself a hygiene freak, or do you not care much? Neither of those fit me. Though I'm more likely to neglect myself out of the two. It depends on how I'm doing. That hasn't entirely healed since recovery. Are you old enough to live by yourself or are you just mature enough? I'm definitely old enough, just not independent or healthy enough, or financially capable. What is one thing you stopped doing just because everyone else stopped? I've never moved with fads. Have you ever been considered the freak of your class at any time in life? "Freak" seems a bit strong of a word, but "the weird kid," probably. Have you ever been to a Sea World before? Which one in which state? As a kid, yes, in Florida. I wouldn't now as an adult; I do not even remotely support their captivity of whales. I don't know all the facts behind their business so can't speak for all the animals, and I am not against all animal captivity so long it is providing and with good purpose (conservation, education, etc.), but nothing will make me pay to support the incredibly incompetent housing and mistreatment of whales. Do you believe in any kind of magic? Is it the stereotypical kind? *shrugs* I mean I dunno, define "magic," I guess. I personally believe some form of greater intelligence created the universe, and I suppose that's "magic." The person I copied this from brought up a great point, too: Science itself can seem pretty magical, so where do you even draw the line? Ex., the evolution of caterpillar to butterfly. That shit's fuckin' wild. A living thing melts to mush and is reformed in an entirely and completely new body. With wings, dude. There are truly a lot of natural things that occur in our world that make that line we've created blurry. Are you currently working on any kind of project at this moment in time? An argumentative essay on climate change in College Writing, if you call that a "project." I haven't started writing truly in-depth yet and may switch my focus to arranged marriages (seems random, yeah, but they're from a set list of options relevant to the book we read), only because I get fucking heated talking about climate change, and our professor made a point of not "preaching," and I also have to be capable of writing a paragraph of concession, that being an acknowledgment of the opposing point and considering its views, but. I don't think I could give climate change deniers' mindset even a sliver of genuine thought. As absolutely awful and appalling as they are, at least I can see a reason (a terrible one, but you get me) like hastening procreation in arranged marriages. Okay wow rambling ANYWAY yeah, in the starting stages of writing an essay. Which do you do more: read books, spent time online, or watch television? I'm like... always online, so yeah. What do you do the most when you’re online? Listen to/watch YouTube. Which foot is bigger, your left or your right? I don't know, I've never noticed. Do you think you’re too old to go trick-or-treating? Personally I believe anyone should be able to, but by society's standards, I am. Do you have a bobblehead? No. Have you ever had a themed b-day party? As a kid, yeah. Were you afraid of heights as a child? Nope. Do you think it’s stupid when you’re dying to have someone pray that you don’t feel afraid? (I would want them to pray that I live, personally) No? I don't believe that there's power in prayer period, but it's kind, realistic, and encouraging to hope they stay unafraid. Death is natural and happens to every single living thing, so truly, we shouldn't fear death all too much. What’s the strangest thing you’ve wrapped a present in? Uh nothing? Do you enjoy and appreciate life? Or is this something you need to learn? I appreciate it very much, but I do need to learn to enjoy it more. Have you ever made a pom-pom out of yarn? No. Have you ever had a lead role in a play? N- oh wait, in Sunday school as a young child, I was Mary in one. I don't remember HOW large the role was, but I would assume it was relatively big. Do you know how to use iMovie? I've never really tried it. I could probably figure it out pretty quickly, though. Would you raise your kids differently than your parents raised you? In some ways. For one, I would fucking not spank them. What was the best part about college? I most enjoy the flexibility of my schedule. It's not a 7-hour or whatever day every weekday. If you were homeschooled, did you come up with a school mascot? If so, what? N/A How many times a day do you check your cell to see if you have a text? Whenever it vibrates. Ever wonder if the person you hate will become the person you marry? *Hated but lmao that might just happen. If you could live in three places, a year each, where would they be? Germany, California, and maybe Canada. Your choice of transportation for anything: camel, jet pack or carriage? Carriage, probably. Think of a movie and now give me that movie title: The last person said Titanic so now I'm thinking romances, so The Notebook. Quote a line from that movie: "Tell me I'm a bird." "If you're a bird, I'm a bird." I wanted that as a tattoo with my spouse one day once upon a time. Aw! A line from your wedding vows is now: I want to recite the Corpse Bride vows with my partner. I don't feel like looking them up rn. Name a song: "God's Gonna Cut You Down" by Marilyn Manson, 'cuz that's what I'm listening to. What’s a line from that song? "Sure as God made black and white, what's done in the dark will be brought to the light." Name your two favorite characters from a TV show or movie: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood. Lust and Envy, probably. When was the last time you fell asleep in a car? I dunno. How often do you think about death? Not too often? Do you believe what comes around goes around? Not always, but cause and effect makes it so sometimes. What about everything happens for a reason? NOPE. Can you sing? Not well. What kinds of little advertisements are on this page right now? None rn. Has something really heavy ever fallen on you? I don't believe so. Do you have any freckles on your feet? No. If you wear makeup, what colors do you usually wear? Black, when I do. I barely ever wear makeup, though. If you have more than one pet, do they ever get jealous of each other? BENTLEY DOES, particularly with guests (once he trusts them, anyway). If Teddy is getting attention, odds are he's gonna come on over and stick his nose in it. Do you have any brightly colored pants? No. Is there a room in your house that you don’t like going in? The laundry room. It's either hot or cold as fuck, depending on the season. Can you solve a Rubik’s Cube? No. I'm not good at planning future steps. Do you remember the last question you were asked? What did you answer? Well, besides the last survey question, I really don't. Besides salt and butter, do you put anything on your popcorn? No.

#survey #quiz #questions #random #bored

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fantasies-from-nami · 7 years ago

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Split - Kai Scenario. Part 5

Summary: You have a perfect life. A perfect little house, perfect little son who just went to Kindergarten for the first time and finally your more than perfect husband, whom you love more than your life. Of course that was three weeks ago. Before your husband decided to leave the family.

Word Count: 2076

A/n: I know this is short but I’d rather upload something now and something in a week than nothing at all. It hasn’t been the best times for me on this blog lately but I can’t stop writing this story for myself and you guys...

MY MASTERLIST

(For mobile)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 6

i’m sorry tumblr won’t let me add “keep reading”

I recommend rereading part 4 before starting this chapter!!!

You wake up on a Sunday morning with a sigh. Now you perfectly understand the meaning of that one saying. As if you’re a schoolgirl and it’s finally the last day of your holidays. But in your case you haven’t missed what’s to come even for a bit.

But this time, you decide not to sulk and make the most of the day which will probably be the last one you’ll ever spend with your complete family. Negative thoughts try to find their way into your mind but this time you do your best to keep them out and just enjoy last Sunday you’ll spend happily.

You won’t ruin it.

You quickly get out of the bed. this time you don’t wake up next to your almost ex-husband which is quite a disappointment, but then you sneak a look inside Tae’s room and see him hugged by his father in sleep. And it’s quite enough for you. You can share Jongin with your son even if you’re very selfish.

You don’t lose time swooning over the perfect picture and step inside the bathroom to get ready for the day. After washing up and putting on a comfortable sundress, you head to the kitchen. You plan to make this day perfect for everyone and in your family’s case that means food.

Although you like the thought of healthy diet, the thought of Jongin and Tae’s happiness when they see fried chicken for breakfast is enough persuasion you need.

Time goes quickly while you do everything to make sure that the “breakfast” table is flawless. And just when you’re about to put the last plate on it, you hear footsteps and soon both of your favorite boys step inside the kitchen. You don’t know who’s more excited when seeing what they’re about to eat.

“You’re just in time for breakfast.” You say with a big smile, even though it’s already half past two in the afternoon, it’s normal with Jongin and Tae who goes after his father in everything.

“The smell woke us up.” Jongin can’t take his eyes off the table. “This smells so good, how could we have slept more.” He laughs and sits next to Tae. They’ve both already started devouring the food.

“Wow this is really good.” Jongin comments. “I haven’t tasted anything better for a while, where did you order this?” he asks while handing Tae the neck of chicken. “Start with this.” He adds.

“I made this actually.” You say quietly. Jongin stops and widens his eyes while chewing slowly. “Mommy is the best cook ever, isn’t she?” Tae says with a full mouth. You laugh and wipe his lips.

“Yeah, she is.” Jongin says quietly and you feel your cheeks redden. It’s like you’re returned to high school phase, or just the start of your friendship with Jongin. Not as if you’ve spend years next to him.

Almost an hour passes when the three of you are finally finished with the food. Tae tries to keep up with his dad whose tummy seems to have a hole and is never satisfied. But when the plates are finally empty Jongin suggests watching television so the three of you move to the living room and get comfortable on the couch.

And that’s how the last day (as you hate to call it) is spent. Nothing is special but amazing at the same time. The only time either of you move is to get to the bathroom or get the next fill of snacks. You’re watching cartoons and the Disney movies even Jongin enjoys singing along to.

When the sun is set, Tae runs to his room to get his favorite blanket and returns jumping in his father’s lap. He covers both of them with it and grabs your arm to bring you closer. You’re hesitant at first – you don’t want to make Jongin uncomfortable, but then you see them all cuddly and warm and there’s nothing that can hold you back from joining.

You move closer slowly also getting under the blanket but keeping some distance from your husband but you’re surprised, that when your neck is getting too uncomfortable for it to be laying naturally, Jongin is the one to pull his arm around you and let it rest against his shoulder, right in the position where you can also reach to kiss Tae’s head. You didn’t expect it. Definitely didn’t but for the first time in a month you feel that you’re warm again and you hadn’t even realized how frozen your body had become, deprived of his warmth.

There’s something different about him. Always has been. Just like no heating system can warm you up as well as a walk under the sun can, Jongin’s arms are the same. He’s your personal sun, your only natural way to life.

You can’t even imagine how much you crave for it.

After a while you realize that Tae has fallen asleep on his father’s chest. But you can’t blame him. Jongin is just so warm and so comfortable all you want to do is to finally get the good night’s sleep peacefully for once. But the other part forces you to stay awake to remember every single second of the time you finally felt so, so happy.

In that moment you clearly realize one thing.

He’s here. With a woman who will soon become his ex-wife. And there’s one logical question jumping in your mind.

“Jongin?” you call out, quietly enough not to wake up your son.

“Yes?” he answers, so softly that you never want that sound to leave your ears.

“How does she feel about you being here?” you drop the question, you’re truly curious about. But nothing could surprise you more than what Jongin says next.

“Who?” he asks.

You don’t know if you’re imagining it, or that you’re already stepped into your nightly dream, but you think his fingers are slowly caressing your arm. He truly seems to not recognize who you’re talking about.

“Fei.” You answer with a single word. That name won’t ever leave your memory.

You look up at Jongin secretly and see momentary confusion dwell in his eyes.

“Oh, her.” He adds and stays quiet for a moment. “Well I don’t think she likes that I’m here. She told me not to come.” He says quietly.

Of course she doesn’t. As negatively as you might be inclined towards that girl you understand that she wouldn’t want Jongin to stay over here. But you can’t sympathize when she’s the one going after a still-to-be-divorced man.

Soon after another thought occupies your mind. You know it’s childish to compare how Jongin treats Fei to how he treated you, but she told him not to come and here he is, in your living room. Not once would Jongin ever make you uncomfortable with his decisions when he lived with you. In the good old times he wouldn’t have left you alone like he did with Fei.

You’re absolutely sure of that and that thought makes you even warmer inside. Curling deeper into Jongin’s chest you have no negative thoughts raiding your mind.

On a Monday morning Jongin wakes up just on time without the need of an alarm clock. Slowly dressing in his formal attire he proceeds to the bathroom and kisses the head of his son who’s diligently brushing his teeth. Next he walks inside the kitchen and sees her.

She turns around to look at him and doesn’t even try to form a smile. Jongin can see how the light that was so bright inside her eyes yesterday is now completely gone. Breakfast goes in a quiet matter, so unusual to this happy household. Jongin offers to take Tae to Kindergarten and soon sees his son jumping inside his backseat. Moving like a robot she walks over and fixes his tie, he doesn’t even notice it was crooked. Well she was always better at handling it anyway.

Turning around she slides a sheet of paper in front of him, Jongin looks closely and sees lots of too professional words he hates so much.

“I signed it.” she says quietly. “Like I promised. You’re free.” That’s it. just a little doodle of Jongin’s signature is needed and everything will be over. Isn’t it what he wanted? Without a word he slides the papers inside his laptop bag and walk to the door.

Similar to the times before she walks him to the door and just like it used to be usual, he kisses her forehead and says “Bye”. But this time it doesn’t feel like usual at all.

The day goes as usual for you. Just like it’s been this past month. You go to work, use your lunch period to pick up Tae and chew on a small bun to get you through the day. You make sure Tae doesn’t mess around and does his homework, then you take his hand and go back to the journey back home. You unlock the house, take off your coat, wash Tae’s hands and heat up the dinner you cooked the previous day. As if everything is the same but at the same time nothing is.

Even if usually you always manage to put a smile on your face just for the sake of your son, today you can’t. Today you can’t force yourself anything. You don’t have enough energy. And you know Tae feels it. Not just your feelings but you can see the same mood from him. Your son hasn’t smiled all day and you hate it. You hate it more than anything.

You know what changed. The hope is gone. Even if you spent the month alone you hoped, you wished Jongin would wake up and just come back, for you the bright future of your family wasn’t torn. You still hoped, deep down in your heart. Now you know it’s over. You lost. You lost him.

You finally manage to set the table managing not to break down seeing the number of plates. You will stay strong for your child. He deserves to have you properly functioning. Tae comes from his room slowly and sits down by your low table.

“Eat well, Tae.” You smile warmly and reach to kiss his head. He smiles too. And how can a five year old’s smile even be so full of sadness.

You’re just about to eat when you hear the lock of your front door open. You don’t know what to think. Your motherly instincts are reaching for Tae in case of a burglary. Why would a burglar step inside your house so calmly, it’s irrational you know, but you can’t give yourself any false hope that maybe what you think is happening, is actually happening.

You’re only looking at Tae, afraid to look straight at the entrance and you see your son’s face change. From curiosity to confusion and finally a shy and timid smile forms on his face.

“Daddy.” He calls.

You finally look forward.

“Started dinner without me?”

Jongin is standing with his suitcase, dressed warmly in a winter coat, his shoes are already neatly arranged in their proper place. There’s a small pout on is face for emphasis.

He looks godly.

He looks like home.

Tae looks lost, but you’re sure you’re even more confused. But your son fixes himself in a second and runs to hug his dad, like he would every day. Your son can control himself very well, but you’re sure Jongin can also see just how happy he is to see his dad, home.

You don’t let down your guard yet.

You stay frozen at your seat.

“Ahh, today was such a tiring day at work, I can’t even stand on my feet.” Jongin yawns and takes off his coat. “I’ll go wash my hands. Y/N can you please check my bag? There’s so much trash in there from work, could to throw it out? Or I’ll forget and it’ll stay there for days…” he continues talking down the hallway, his voice slowly disappearing.

I have to add a plate you think, but first, you walk over and pick up Jongin’s suitcase, opening the zip. You see paper, torn to little pieces. Torn so fiercely you wouldn’t have recognized it hadn’t you put it here in the morning.

It’s the divorce papers.

And even though they’re destroyed, you can clearly see, there’s not a trace of Jongin’s signature.

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