#I had to have these ideas when summer just began :c

[pearl-crystals]

My closet cosplay is coming along swimmingly! I am making it similar to the source but not exact. Little flourishes just for fun :)

Im not done yet because I realized mutliple things I need to fix from this, like the scar ((little headcannon of mine) is on the wrong side, the eye patch isnt comfy, and my hair isnt sitting/hiding correctly just yet. But I hope you enjoy me messing around for a bit!

In exchange, please enjoy this funny picture that didnt turn out but I think is funny regardless.

[gojosprettyprincess]

Tw - Stepbrother choso, soft dom Choso?, fingering, pussy eating, squirting but reader didn't know what it was, oversimulation, ass play. Reader is 20 about to start college and choso is 23. This shit is honestly pretty filthy. I'm sorry for any errors.

Thinking about...

Your mom getting remarried to another man and you having to move into a new house and adjust to your new household, it wasn't going to be easy, it's a whole different chapter of your life beginning and a lot of things were going to change and be different.

But no matter what you vowed to try your very best to make everything easier for your mom, whatever it takes. She been through a lot in her past relationship and now she's finally happy and smiling so you'll do anything you possibly can to keep it that way. It's just so weird being the only child and now having to get used to having a new sibling, he was 5 years older than you, you don't really interact with him that much, you just wanna get all this over with till you can finally move out and begin college once summer ends.

Well things just happened to take an unexpected turn pretty fast.

"Be a good girl for me and keep still yeah?" he whispered to you while slamming two of his long thick fingers into your cunt nonstop. It was too much, he made you came on his fingers two times already yet he still kept going, scissoring and curling his digits against your tight walls while he fucks it in and out of you, the wet squelch of your cunt filling the room. He had you laying on his lap with your body folded on half, one of his hands gripping your thigh while the other is plunging into your cunt, you couldn't help but squirm on top of him.

"T'much, c-can't anymore please, t'much cho" you whimpered, nails sinking into his forearm.

He looked down at you smirking, "Cum f'me one more time then I'll stop, deal?", you reluctantly nodded your head, your poor cunt was so sore from all the times he'd do stuff like this, which is every night when your parents are asleep he'd sneak into your room and play with your poor little cunny so he can prepare you for when he's gonna give you the real thing and fuck you silly with his thick cock.

"Fuckkk baby you have no idea how much I wanna sink my cock into this cunt right now", He hisses, feeling your walls tighten around his fingers, his cock straining to be released from his boxers.

"Need you to cum f'me right now, c'mon princess you can do it". He encourages, fucking his fingers into your slopping cunt knuckles deep, faster and faster, hitting your sweet spot while he brought his thumb to your clit, flickering and rubbing small circles on it as he helped you climb to your orgasm.

Your head fell back against his chest as you came undone on his fingers. You cried out as he continued pumping his fingers inside of you throughout your orgasm, your toes curling while your eyes were rolling back of your head.

His eyes were glued to your body and face, paying attention to how your body reacted while your cumming, how you look so pretty with your eyes rolling back, he can't wait to see that exact scene but with his cock splitting your tight in half instead.

You came so much, your juices were leaking onto his lap, he licked his lips looking at how creamy your cunt was glistening as he slowly began pulling his fingers out of you. Strings of your slick connecting to your cunt and his fingers before snapping when he pulled away.

"Such a messy girl, see all the dirty mess you made princess?" he chuckled "What kind of big brother would i be if I don't help my sweet little sister clean all of this up?" He questions before he manhandles your body from his lap and places your back onto the bed.

He quickly got between your thighs, pressing both back towards you so your body could be folded, he took a moment to stare at your leaky wet cunt, the way there's cum dripping out of your entrance, leaking down to your asshole it was so messy. He dragged his tongue to your asshole before licking all the cum off it in one swipe up to your cunt, then he started lapping your entrance, making sure to clean and lick all the cum off with his tongue in the process so he could taste you, he loves eating your cunt so fucking much, the taste drives him absolutely crazy, always making him coming back for more. It was delicious.

"F-fuck!" you hiccupped "N-not so fast cho, s'much slow down please" you cried out, trying to push his head away, tugging on his hair, only to earn a groan from him while he ignored you and kept slurping on your cunt like a hungry man that just got his favorite meal for the first time in forever.

He kept swirling his tongue on your clit while his fingers are digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, eyes fixated on your lewd expressions while your loud moans and cries filled the room.

It was just too much; your legs were shaking, you tried to move yourself but couldn't because of his strong grip on your thighs. All you could do is lay there, whimpering and crying as he feasts on your poor cunt. You felt your tummy start feeling weird, everything started feeling strange, like something different was about to happen. The new sensation of your body being stimulated launching you over the edge, making you jolt and writhe.

"Oh my god! Oh my god cho! Something's coming, feel so weird fu-fuck!" you warned, panicking as you attempt to try and push his head away only for his grip around your thighs to get tighter, he starts sucking your clit, as he pushes two of his fingers into your soppy fuckhole, fingerfucking the shit out of you, it was honestly so fucking nasty, the noises that were being made, literally everything.

He was acting like an actual fucking animal, groaning into your pussy while he's slurping and sucking on your clit as his thick fingers working its way in and out of your wet sloppy cunny. Your brain gets all fuzzy and blank as you released whatever it was, clear liquid gushing out of you like a fucking water hose, your back arching against the bed as you grip onto the sheets screaming, you might've even woken your parents up for fuck's sake. You squirted all over Choso's pretty face, his shirt was drenched, his fingers, everything. Yet that nasty motherfucker still kept licking up your leaking cunt, his tongue lapping up all your juices from your dripping hole then he makes his way to your asshole, circling his tongue around your puckered hole before giving it a few kitten licks, making sure that he licks up every bit of your pussy juice since it seems like a burden to him to let any go to waste. Flickering his tongue on your hole as it's fluttering and winks against the pad of it while his long fingers still slamming into your poor tired hole. It was so fucking much that you felt like passing out as you start crying and whimpering even more.

After he was 100% sure he licked your cunny and everywhere else squeaky clean and was satisfied, he pulls away from you, panting and trying to catch his breath before moving closer towards you, he picks your head up with his arms, cradling it while wiping away your pathetic tears.

"S'okay princess I got you it's okay" he allows you to catch your breath as you calm yourself down. "Did so well f'me, such a good girl, aren't you?". He cooed, planting a kiss on your forehead.

"Cho-choso what was that! What happened!??" you asked nervously. "It's nothing bad baby, don't worry about it, you did a great job".

"Gonna make you do that same shit again tomorrow but on my fucking cock got it?".

Bonus

Visual on how he was eating your cunt but he was def doing way more than that since he's such a sick desperate fucker.

[gallaghersgal]

first misses || carmen berzatto

pairing: carmy x fem!reader

warnings & tags: no warnings! fluff, fluff, and more fluff. first kiss scenario. giving carmen the sweet innocent childhood moments he deserves. growing apart but finding each other again <33

a/n: thank u to worm for the idea, and to the tumblr baddie collective for cheering me on! my first FULL length carmy fic, and my first work over 1k in ... actual years i think.

wc: 1.3k

Carmen never liked wearing glasses. they fogged up too often, or slipped down the bridge of his nose. and one time, when he was eleven years old, they just about ruined his life.

You were the prettiest girl in the fifth grade, a Chicago transplant, and the apple of every little boy's eye. But you only had eyes for one Carmen Berzatto. The day you made him hold your hand to cross the street on the field trip to the art museum, he knew he couldn't let summer roll around without telling you how he felt. But Mikey teased him, and Sugar tried her best but her advice sounded too motherly, so Carmen was left to plot for himself.

He still remembers that day, the last day of fifth grade. The pretty gingham dress with the little bow you wore—your Dorothy dress, as you called it—and your hair tied up to play field games with the other kids waiting at pickup. He had tugged you behind the bleachers with nervous, sweaty palms, thankful that you didn't notice or at the very least held back any comments.

"I wanna kiss you," he blurted out, cheeks turning pink at the admission. "C-Can i kiss you?"

You looked down at your feet for a minute, tennis shoe toe digging into the gravel, before you looked up at him. "Um, sure!" you grinned shyly, and Carmen felt like his world was skidding to a halt right then and there. "I've never kissed anyone before. like, on the lips?"

"I-I h-haven't either," he stammered, his face going pale with nerves. His hands began to shake when you stepped up closer.

"That's okay, I think it's easy."

You held out your hand until Carmen took it, then closed your eyes to lean in. He couldn't help but stare curiously, and the moment unfolded before his eyes. Before you could kiss him, your brow ran right into the wireframe of his glasses. You pulled back, a little startled, one eyebrow raised.

"Sorry, 'm s-sorry," he said nervously, watching as you scrunch your nose in concentration. Before he knew what was happening you'd leaned in again. Your lips barely brushed his, those stupid glasses still in the way, but it was a kiss. It counted.

You pulled back with a wide grin, "there! Now we had our first kiss!"

Carmen wanted to say something, he really did. Maybe ask to sign your yearbook, or if you’d want to come see a movie with him, but the teacher was calling your name. You had to leave. You had to leave, and Carmen didn't know if he'd see you at all, for the whole summer. His little heart ached at the thought of not seeing your smile. Not hearing your laugh. Missing the way you always smelled like strawberries and vanilla from your little hand sanitizer, the one he always asked to borrow after recess.

But at that moment you were standing in front of him, with that same pretty grin, and throwing your arms around him for a quick hug. You turned to leave, then turned back, just to surprise him with a sweet kiss to his cheek. "Bye Carmy! Have a good summer!" you said, before running off.

And Carmen just stood there, awestruck.

Sure, he saw you again the next year, but a lot happened that summer. The transition to middle school was a big one, you weren't in any classes together, and year by year the two of you grew apart until Carmen was halfway across the country and you were nothing but a memory.

He didn't see you again until, god, at least thirteen years later. He wasn't sure how long it had been. He wasn't even sure how he'd managed to bump into you. But a few hours and a coffee later you'd given him your number. And that night you'd texted him; would you wanna go out, like on a date? i couldn't bring myself to ask you face to face. but i think it would be nice. just lmk :)

And it was nice. you wore a dress that looked amazing against your skin, and he got to finally tell you how pretty you were, after all the years of silence. After the days spent sketching you in the margins of his notebooks, peering at you from across the cafeteria, and showing up to football games just to get a glimpse of you with your friends. You looked beautiful as ever, and he made sure to tell you. 

“Y’know, I always thought you were so pretty” he mumbled, sounding reverent as he stood outside your apartment door. Your back was against your door, hands not even bothering with pushing it open. 

“That’s really sweet, Carmy,” you whispered. One hand raised up to touch his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin under your fingertips. His cheeks were tinted a soft pink, that same lovely color you’d see when you were young. The one you’d crack jokes, give lingering glances, and throw compliments his way just to see. 

Carmen’s eyes fluttered closed, like he was committing your image to memory. Maybe he was. 

“Do you remember the last day of fifth grade?” you asked cautiously, waiting for him to open his eyes before continuing. “When we kissed under the bleachers?” His embarrassment was written across his face, cheeks flushed and eyes cast down to the floor. You took one curl by the side of his face around your finger, twirled it into a perfect little spiral just to let it go again. Patiently, you waited for him to speak.

“Y-Yeah, yeah. I remember,” he replied with a quiet laugh. “I went home and begged my mom not to make me wear glasses anymore. As if she could’ve done anything about my shitty eyesight,” he added with a scoff.

“Hm. Well, I mean, I guess it worked. You got contacts, yeah? Or are you just blind as a bat?” you asked, and brought your eyes up to meet his own. “Do you wanna try again?” You tacked the last sentence on, almost like an afterthought, afraid if you took too much time to think on it you’d chicken out entirely. 

Carmen grinned, and you swore it was one of the most beautiful things you’d ever seen. Not the tight lipped smile he often wore in photos, no, this was all teeth and sparkling eyes and joy. Like the kid under the bleachers all those years ago. 

“Bats, uhm, they- they aren’t,” he stammered, his hands shaking as they held on to your hips. “Common mistake, see, they’ve actually got-”

“Carmen,” you interrupted softly. He only hummed in response, a soft affirmative noise that let you know he wanted this too. As if the way he looked at you could’ve been interpreted any other way. “Just kiss me.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice. His lips were soft–if not a little chapped, but you didn’t mind–when they finally brushed yours, this time with no pesky glasses in the way. One of his hands moved up to the back of your neck, cradling you there.

To call the moment bliss would’ve been an understatement. 

When Carmen finally pulled away from you his eyes remained closed, soaking up the moment, afraid he’d look again to find it was all a dream. A dream he’d had over and over, each night as he drifted off. The sweet girl he’d once known, finally in his arms again.

When his blue eyes finally made their reappearance you were staring at him, analyzing his expression as one finger twirled around that same little curl. “You should come inside,” you told him, and he winced slightly. 

“I-I, don’t wanna fuck it up. Don't wanna rush... this,” he admitted breathlessly, to which you shook your head.

“Nothing like that. Just, don’t wanna stop talking to you,” you explained, showing your intentions were to take this slow. To learn him again, or, was it for the first time? It didn’t matter. All that mattered was his smile, as he nodded and followed you inside.

end.

main masterlist || carmy masterlist

[heartbeerry]

i got a soft spot for you / r. c | part two

pairing: rafe cameron x female reader

part one / part two / part three

cw: exes to lovers, angst, rafe redemption arc, brief mentions of alcohol/substances, some swearing, there's sweet and fluffy reconciliation at the end.

summary: y/n breaks up with rafe due to his problem with alcohol/substances. summer passes by and they find themselves at the same place one night. rafe is determined to prove he's changed for the better.

inspiration: soft spot by keshi

♫ you know i got a soft spot for you

baby, can't you see?

i need you 'cause you're everything that i’m not...

. . .

the last place you wanted to be was in a random kildare bar, flanked by sweaty bodies while electronic music reverberated through your skull.

your friends had somehow convinced you this was just a part of the “healing journey” after your breakup.

it sounded like a good idea on paper - or rather, text. but once you put yourself into your favourite outfit and took a shot of liquid courage, the novelty was already wearing off.

you missed him.

him being the only thing on your mind all summer. you thought that time would naturally heal the wound you were nursing, but it soon became evident the gap was too big to fill.

besides, filling it with alcohol and parties — given what you’d been through, was laughable. in a not-so-funny manner.

before your mind could slip further away from the present, you heard the sound of your name pull you back.

“it’s y/n, right?” a guy in a fitted polo chimed as he saddled up to your section of the dance floor.

you didn’t recognize him. a slight panic began to crawl up your throat.

it was extinguished by a tap on your shoulder, as one of your friends revealed themself.

they shot you a wide grin with two thumbs-up before ushering the rest of the group away.

just great. i’ve been ambushed with a set up.

you pushed out an exasperated breath and retrained your focus on the guy in front of you.

“sorry, uh — i don’t know your name…” you replied, offering a polite smile.

maybe this was good. talking to someone new could be good for you.

he was fairly handsome, blonde waves kissing the top of his shoulders and a pair of deep brown eyes.

“i’m paul. i’m in town for an estate sale,” he grinned, but it didn’t feel overly warm. there was an air of arrogance embedded in his expression.

“oh! well, that’s pretty interesting…” you trailed, waiting for him to continue.

when he didn’t, you nodded awkwardly, absently searching for your friends.

paul must’ve registered your lack of interest because he worked quickly to remedy this sinking ship.

“look — i’ve kinda been working up the courage to talk to you all night,” he said, before scratching the back of his head. “care for a dance?”

without waiting for your answer, paul reached out his hand just as a new song began playing, something with a slower tempo.

“i gave the dj a ten to play this song, what do ya say?” he gave you a toothy smile.

deciding quickly that one dance couldn’t hurt, you placed your hand in his as you began moving to the beat.

halfway into the song, paul took it upon himself to twirl you outwards, leaving you to follow his lead.

you tried to focus on the moment as the strobing lights flashed overhead and the music swelled.

but just then, the dam you'd built so high, abruptly broke.

a singular memory from a year ago burst through with a force strong enough to put your next step off kilter.

“you’d think you were born with two left feet, rafe cameron,” you giggled as rafe struggled to avoid stepping on your toes.

you were suddenly transported back in time to your cousin’s wedding a year ago.

“listen, we all can’t be as graceful as y/n l/n,” rafe sighed, exacting another misstep. but there was a smirk on his face, the kind of smirk where his eyes would crinkle with pure admiration.

“i told you we should have practiced before — ah!” your next sentence was cut short as the two of you fell into a tangled mess of limbs in the middle of the dance floor.

the absurdity of the situation outweighed any embarrassment and soon, the both of you were in uncontrollable hysterics.

a giggle tumbled from your lips as you spun before evolving into a full unabridged fit of laughter.

your heart pinched, the memory wedging itself deep within it. an overwhelming feeling of longing came next, just as the song was ending.

paul spun you inward to his body, before dipping you downwards to end your dance with a flourish.

blood rushed to your head, and it wasn’t due to being propelled downward, although that added a dizzying pressure behind your eyes. you needed some air.

you would thank paul for the dance, exit quietly and —

“wow. a girl as gorgeous as you AND a great dancer?” paul leaned in. too close. “i’m in love,” he murmured in your ear.

“i’m so in love with you, rafe.”

and with that, the dam was shattered.

“why is that not good enough for you? are the drugs and alcohol all you fucking care about?”

that morning was now playing on a vicious loop in your mind. you, standing in front of rafe on his porch, packed bags hanging from your arms.

“of course not! fuck — y/n, baby, please. i’ll get better — i will. i will. i’m sorry!”

tears stung your eyes.

“i’ve heard that so many times before, rafe. but you know what i haven’t heard once come from your mouth?”

“i’m sorry — i have to go,” you shook from paul’s hold, leaving him stunned and alone in the middle of the bar.

you began to rush towards the exit, running past your confused friends as you clutched a hand to your heaving chest.

“i’ve never heard you say you love me.”

barreling through the side door, you spluttered out a few ragged breaths, the scent of sea salt reaching your nose.

you teetered towards the shore of the beach opposite the bar, feeling an overwhelming urge to sink your knees into the cool sand to ground yourself.

all of a sudden, a familiar voice cut through the night air.

“y/n?”

your head shot up, never expecting to hear your name pass his lips again.

rafe’s blue eyes held you in place.

you drank him in. his hair was buzzed and he appeared to have packed on some muscle. he looked healthy.

when your gaze finally settled on his, his throat wobbled. his next intake of breath thick with emotion.

here he was, in all his glory. time seemed to come to a halt.

slam.

“wait! y/n…” paul appeared, throwing the back door open. he was panting slightly but righted himself when he spotted you.

this could not be happening.

rafe had been in the middle of taking a step towards your crumpled form, burning with the need to hold you. he retracted, standing up tall and shoving his hands into his front jean pockets.

he felt like a fool as he followed your line of sight to paul, agony flashing across his face.

unable to steal another glance at rafe, you slowly rose, making your way towards paul.

wiping your tear-stained face, you offered an unconvincing “hey.”

paul seemed to clock rafe’s facial expression, the desire apparent.

his jaw ticked and suddenly, the suave aura paul had exuded, evaporated. once you reached him, he scoffed incredulously, earning a confused look from you.

“so what? you ditched me to run out here for another guy?” paul spat, crossing his arms defensively.

“what? no - i just needed some — ”you began.

“save it. girls like you aren’t worth my time.”

you were suffering from whiplash. this guy, this stranger, had just shown his true intentions.

discomfort bloomed in your chest.

“woah — listen here, dumbass,” rafe snarled, taking large strides towards paul, venom oozing from his voice.

“stop. it’s okay, rafe.”

and rafe did indeed stop.

because you had said his name and it sounded so good.

“think whatever you want,” you replied, not giving paul the decency of eye contact. he huffed before muttering some other insult and stormed back towards the bar.

the only sound to be heard was the gentle lapping of waves against the sand. you were suddenly feeling very tired.

you turned to rafe, who was now only a few steps from you, his towering frame just about absorbing all of the light the full moon had to offer tonight.

your heart ached as you instinctively wrapped your arms around your body. rafe noticed and cleared his throat, becoming overly invested in the sand beneath his feet.

“uhm… thank you. for being there while he…” you had no idea what you were saying. heat rose to your cheeks.

rafe shook his head swiftly and waved you off.

“no — i mean, i didn’t do much. you were, you were great. you handled that very well, i mean,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

a small smile pulled at the corners of your mouth, but you were brought back to reality when you remembered the memory you were recounting before you broke out into tears in the middle of a crowded bar.

“look, y/n i — ” rafe started, capturing your stare, wanting to be in your presence for just a little longer.

a beat passed, you lowered your eyes.

“no, please. i’m not interested in hearing what you have to say. i can’t handle any more empty promises,” you remarked, recalling how many times rafe would apologize and claim he would change his destructive habits.

“but i’ve actually been doing pretty well,” rafe spoke quickly, desperate to keep your attention. he didn’t have the words to express himself.

a humourless chuckle left your lips.

“and i’m happy for you, rafe. really, i am. but you’ve already shown me that i don’t fit into your life,” you sniffed.

great, the tears were threatening to spill once more. how pathetic.

it was like you had slapped rafe square across the face. that’s what you thought of him?

pure shame and regret bubbled in his chest as he combed through every stupid mistake he’d made that led to this moment.

rafe then noticed his face was wet. silent tears were streaming down his face. he hastily brushed them away before you could see, coming to terms with the fact he was losing you all over again.

if only he could hear you say his name one more time. if you would just look at him.

unable to say more, you turned to trudge back towards the bar, determined to find your friends so you could go home.

“you’re the only piece of my life that made sense,” his voice was raw, ladened with truth.

the confession nearly stopped you in your tracks as you shuddered an uneasy breath.

you willed yourself to keep your head forward, denying the urge to turn around and take one more glance at the boy you had loved so deeply.

“just let me prove it to you…” rafe whispered as he watched your figure disappear into the bar.

. . .

too late, don't wanna fall, baby, i just

don't need somebody else to throw me aside

but i’m up all night, thinkin' "bout how

it could be you to change my heart... ♫

part three

[writingoddess1125]

Pot calling the Kettle Black

Mihawk x Reader + Alucare OOC

Just some domestic Fluff stuff and light violence.

Saw someone requested this! But when I went to answer the answer got deleted cause my laptop overheated and shut off ;-; I'm so sorry! (If you were the person please DM me I do apologize)

Anyway Enjoy!!

"For goodness sake" You sigh as you watch the comb snap from your sons hair. Tossing the ruined item to the side to later be thrown away.

You sat there trying to brush through Alucare's thick hair. It seemed the salty air had decided to reek havoc on his dark locs and render them a crusty tangled mess.

"This is humilating-" He grumbled sitting on the floor of the cabin you and Mihawk shared, Wincing everytime you ran the now 4th comb through his hair and encountered a knot.

"Sorry honey but you're too tall for me when you sit in the chair" You admit, needing the upper angle in order to even attempt to manage his hair.

You rinced his hair in more fresh water but it seemed no matter how much you used it was not helping in softening the hardened locs.

Yanking more on his hair which earn another pained grunt in discomfort from the boy- Both of you not noticing the door opening as Mihawk watched calmly from the doorway lf the cabin.

"Struggling?" He finally spoke, revealing himself to the both of you as you pulled the comb from Alucare's hair.

"Yes, His hair is so dry was the sea air that it's a wavy mess" You say gesturing to his locks with a defeated sigh. Alucare glancing back at his father who seemed amused by the sight, Mihawk walking into the room fully and taking the comb from you as well as reaching into the bag he personally carried and grabbing a jar.

"I'll help, Come" He said calmly and gestured to the chair in the room. Alucare turned his nose to this but sighed in defeat as he stood up and sat in the chair. Mihawk going behind him and taking the hair product he used began to comb it through his hair- Softening it enough to take out the knots.

You looked on in surprise at the two- It was a very cute father son moment in your eyes as you watched Mihawk with care detailed his sons hair.

"The salt from the sea will dry out your hair and stick to you. Add more conditioner" He grumbled, Alucare nodding at this as Mihawk with gentle hands detailed the boys hair.

"Why bother keeping your hair so long to begin with?-" Mihawk asked, raising a brow noting that when continuing it was just past the center of his back. Far too long for his taste.

"Cause when it was shorter I got mistaken for you and almost scared a Marine half to death" He said calmly, Mihawk freezing in his actions before he cracked a small smirk and continued his task at hand.

"I see" He said calmly continuing the task at hand. However was forced to stop just halfway through and pulled Alucares hair back in a low ponytail for the time being.

"Out of product.. We will be stopping in a village soon for your mother to stretch her legs- we will gather more hair product for you" he said calmly as Alucare stood from the chair and gave a short thanks.

Standing in the little general store Mihawk turned his head to see Alucare speaking with a girl- A pretty girl. How her cheeks were red and she was clearly swoon- Alucare also flirting back with a charmed smile on his face, he knew that look well.

It wasn't long till the three of you (four on the way) made it to a tiny village to get some supplies for the journey. Deciding a small store near the docks would have the hair supplies for the teen.

The young girl played with a lock of her dark brown hair, her ebony sparkling as Alucare clearly wooed her and she gave a shy nod. Earning a smile from his son and he nodded walking back towards you two- Noting that Mihawk had clearly noticed.

"Mother, they are having a summer festival in a few days, Would you like to attend?" Alucare asked, seeing how your face lit up at the idea. Chattering excitedly at wishing to do this as Mihawk stared at his spawn- Clever.

"What do you saw Mihawk? Wanna stay for the festival?" You ask softly, he looked in your eyes and knew he wouldn't refuse you. So he gave a soft nod to you. Alucare smirked at this as he clearly got what he had wanted- Grabbing the hair stuff he needed quickly he smirked. The Warlord hummed, knowing damn well what was to come soon.

In less then 5 hours his son was off running around with this girl- Mihawk saw how this girl and Alucare ran around the island together clearly he had wooed her a bit too well. Knowing that his son was plotting to win her heart and win something else before departing- The adventurous feeling of the sea clearly infecting him with wonder and interest. He had done the same, it came with being out on sea.

The day of the festival Mihawk was excited for all the wrong reason- Sure he was happy to get to spend the festive day with you but really he wanted to see the blow up that was about to happen-

A stolen kiss and a blushing of a innocent girl had Alucare confidence up and bolstered, even if he knew it may be cruel to do. On the second night Alucare snuck onto the ship, not expecting Mihawk to still be awake waiting for him as he cleaned his blade.

"You lied to her I take it?-" Mihawk asked, Already knowing the answer to the question. Alucare nodding silently-

"Her heart is going to be broken when she finds our you're leaving" He said calmly and met his sons gaze.

"That's why I won't tell her. Goodnight" He said shortly and headed to his Cabin on the ship. Mihawk shaking his head at this- Not under his watch.

Was this his live soap opera? Hell yes it was.

"Ready to head out back to sea Alucare? We need to leave by morning. Who is your friend here?" Mihawk said quite louder then his normal tone, purposely making sure the girl heard every word he said.

Once at the festival Alucare separated from you both rather quickly, most likely to enjoy himself elsewhere with the girl. Leaving the two of you alone to enjoy one another. The dancing, the food and even the drink had been fantastic. Seeing you dance and dress up for the lovely festivities had been worth every Berry he spent, the pretty festival clothes complimented you well and he couldn't help but keep his hands on you.

Truthfully having spent the day with you he had forgotten the whole ordeal with Alucare. Till he son his son running up a scenic hill for the firework show.

Staying for the fireworks with you he silently plotted what he would do. Knowing they would probably still be on that scenic hill once over- You were also pretty tuckered out and he didn't want to stress you or the baby. Getting you back to the ship to rest after the fireworks Mihawk set in his plan and went back out to the festive grounds to find his son and burst his little bubble.

"Ah there you are my Son" Mihawk said calmly as he walked towards the kissing teen couple- the two pulling away as Alucare eyes were as wide as saucers at being caught.

"Wait you're leaving?- You're family didn't move here?" She asked sharply, Alucare sending a murderous glare at his father. Not expecting the old man to not only catch him but also absolutely call him out on his bullshit.

"Seems so" He said nonchalantly, clearly trying to play it cool for being caught so bluntly. "It seems some things have changed so I will be leaving"

"You lied to me!" She hissed angrily, clenching her fist.

"I did-" He said calmly which made her angrier.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she fumed, Alucare stepping back as he tried to clearly step out of the emotional situation. However neither Mihawk nor Alucare expected what happened next- In a second she pulled back and pushing cheddar him square against the jaw with a bone bending strength.

Alucare stumbled back so hard Mihawk had to catch him and both their eyes were wide at such a hard punch from the little lady. Her eyes narrowed at both of them in anger and Mihawk had a wave of deja vu.

"I will not forget this Asshole!" She yelled, huffing as she stormed away angrily down the scenic hillside back to the village.

Mihawk standing Alucare up fully as both of them seemed a bit dazed. The two Dracule men walking back to the ship where you were waiting for them.

As Alucare boarded the ship he glanced to the side seeing his father with a amused gleam in his eyes as he waited for him to board.

"Was it fun heartbreaker?" He teased, earning a glare from the teenager as he grumbled and went on the ship. Ignoring the ache from his cheek which was sure to be blue and purple by the days end.

"Oh shut it-" Alucare grumbled as Mihawk gave a noise which was as close to a chuckle he got. Before the family retired to bed.

Once out to sea you had prepared your small family a meal and all seated in the ships small breakfast you scolded you son and gave him a ice pack for his swollen cheek.

"That was very unkind Alucare, I raised you better then that" You warn and he sighs at this, Accepting the verbal lashing he was getting from you.

"By the way- What was that poor girl's full name? You are going to send a apology to her" You tell him, still disappointed in your son for stealing that girls first kiss and lying to her.

Alucare paused his eating for a moment, thinking back "Beckman.. Lyra Beckman I believe-"

There was a mild choking noise from the older man, Mihawk sighed heavily at this as he rubbed his temple... Of fucking course it was...

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Healing Bonds

Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader(Past)

Summary: You find Yelena after Natasha, your ex-lover, has passed and you feel like it's your duty to keep Yelena close. What happens though when feelings rise up for the blonde Russian?

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: Lots of angst and hurt

A/N: So This idea had come to me after rewatching Endgame, Black Widow, and Hawkeye so here you go.

The first time you met Yelena Belova wasn't until after her sister and your ex-lover, Natasha Romanoff, died. Natasha had always talked about Yelena and how much she loved her. You cried when you first laid eyes on Yelena. The two looked nothing alike, and you were thankful for that because you don't think you could look at her if she did.

When you told Yelena who you were to Natasha, she cried, wishing for a million different scenarios in which her sister was still here with them, and all you could do was hug Yelena, which earned you a handful of punches. You learned quickly that Yelena could be a very violent person when dealing with certain emotions. The first time it happened, you let it. You let her get her aggression out.

"It's not fair! You had so much time with her! You got to be happy with her! Me? I got a mission that almost got us killed after 20 years of silence!" She yelled, and you just held her tighter. "I'm sorry, Yelena," You whispered over and over and over.

In those moments, as her fists collided with your body, you could feel the pain in her words. It wasn't just about Natasha's death; it was about the years lost, the missions that tore them apart, and the void left by the silence between them. You understood Yelena's anger, even if it was directed at you. It wasn’t as if she could direct it at the person she wanted to.

As the punches subsided, she finally collapsed into your arms, exhausted from the emotional storm that had consumed her. You sat there in silence for a while, the weight of Natasha's absence hanging heavily between the two of you. The room felt colder, emptier, and you couldn't shake the guilt that gnawed at you.

"I wish she had more time with you too, Yelena," You said softly, your words barely audible. Yelena didn't respond, but her grip on you tightened, seeking solace in your shared grief.

In the aftermath of that turbulent encounter, the two of you began a journey of healing together. You were bound by the love you had both lost, and as the two of you navigated the tangled web of emotions, a new connection formed. A connection born out of pain, but one that held the promise of understanding and, perhaps, even redemption in the face of the losses you both endured in the wake of the Snap and beyond.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You ended up taking Yelena home with you, offering her a permanent place by your side. She continued going on missions, which you had expected. The first time she left without telling you, and there was no note. You thought you'd lost her forever, sitting on the back porch in the summer evening air, your Y/H/C hair whipping around you as silent tears fell.

You didn't hear her come in, not until she was next to you did you notice her presence. "Why are you crying?" Her accent, thick and familiar, filled your ears as you grabbed her, pulling her in tightly, close, your heart hammering in your chest. "I thought I'd lost you too... don't... don't fucking do that again, Yelena!" You yelled at her, your voice trembling as tears flowed freely.

Yelena's expression softened as she held you, understanding the fear that gripped you during her absence. "I had to go. It was a last-minute mission, and I didn't want to wake you," she explained, her words a mix of apology and reassurance.

"It doesn't matter. Just... just tell me next time, please," You pleaded, your grip on her not loosening. The relief of having her back overwhelmed the anger that had fueled your outburst.

Yelena nodded, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. "I promise. I'm sorry for making you worry," she said, her voice soothing. The two of you stayed there, entwined on the porch, the summer breeze carrying away the tension that had momentarily fractured your newfound connection.

From that day forward, Yelena kept her promise. She would leave for her missions, but not without a word or a note, ensuring that you wouldn't have to endure the heart-wrenching uncertainty of her absence again. In the quiet moments between her departures and returns, your bond deepened, and the scars of your shared losses began to heal, one mission at a time.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You decided to form a company a little over a year after Natasha died, the weight of her absence still heavy in your heart. Standing at her grave, you whispered into the wind, "I'm going to start a company. I don't want to be an Avenger anymore. Not without you, but I can help others. I know I can." The breeze felt like Natasha's touch, a comforting caress that seemed to echo her approval.

"Yelena and I have been living together for six months now, Tasha. She's exactly as you described. A spitfire and a brat at times. I don't know if you can forgive me or not when I say this, but I could see myself with her. She's my type, a power bottom with a bratty side." You chuckled as the wind picked up. "Okay okay... I understand, only if she moves first," You whispered, as if seeking Natasha's consent in the elements around you.

Your company started up with few hiccups. You planned on making a business out of seeking out people with powers and talents that could be considered Avengers, teaming them up with a manager. Eventually, you aimed to expand to other countries, each with its own headquarters. The goal was to create a network of skilled individuals, ready to defend against threats on a global scale.

You envisioned a world where those of you left in America could stay here unless faced with a Thanos-level threat, something you fervently hoped would never happen again. The legacy of the Avengers would live on through this new venture, a tribute to Natasha and a commitment to protecting a world that had lost so much but still held the potential for hope and resilience.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You come home to find Yelena sitting on the couch with a pot of mac & cheese covered in hot sauce, using a too-big spoon. "Y/N! I made mac & cheese! Would you like some?" she asks, and you’re too exhausted to yell at her. You sit next to her, taking the spoon and eating some. "How was your day?" she inquires.

"Stressful, Lena. More and more people are learning about my company, and we're getting more and more applications," You reply, leaning your head back against the couch, closing your eyes. You hear her set the pot down on the coffee table before she curls up against your side. "Anything I can do?" she asks.

You remind yourself of the promise you made to Natasha. "Whatever you think sounds good. You've known me for over a year now, Lena. What is it that you think I want? What will make me feel better?" You don't open your eyes or look at her. you’re testing her, and she knows it.

You feel her shift off the couch, and you clench your fists. She's never going to make the first move as you fiddle with the band on your ring finger—the one you haven't taken off since Natasha gave it to you.

Yelena returns with a blanket, draping it over both of you. "How about a movie night? We can just relax and take a break from all the chaos," she suggests, her voice soft. It's a simple gesture, but the warmth of her presence and the consideration behind her words start to ease the tension within you.

You nod, finally opening your eyes to meet hers. "Yeah, that sounds good, Lena," you admit, a small smile playing on your lips. Maybe in that moment, amidst the mac & cheese, the too-big spoon, and the movie night proposal, you found a way to let go, even if just for a little while.

Yelena picks the movie while you change into pajamas, a tank top and shorts. You notice her eyes on your body, but choose to ignore it for the time being as you make popcorn and pour us some vodka sprites. Carrying the drinks and popcorn over, Yelena has picked out John Wick. You can’t help but chuckle at the choice as you settle back into the couch. Yelena moves closer, fitting into you like a puzzle piece as she takes your left arm and wrap it around her shoulders. You simply smile at the gesture, sipping on your drink and eating popcorn as the movie plays out.

About halfway through the movie, you feel Yelena absent-mindedly playing with the band Natasha had given you. She's engrossed in the movie, and you watch her, finding her reactions more enthralling than the movie at this point. It's a subtle touch, her fingers tracing the contours of the ring on your finger, and you can't help but be drawn to the way she navigates the emotions tied to Natasha's memory.

As the scenes of John Wick unfold on the screen, you lean your head against Yelena's, savoring the comfort of the moment. Her actions speak louder than any words, and in the quiet intimacy of that movie night, you start to understand that healing doesn't always come from grand gestures or elaborate plans. Sometimes, it's found in the simplicity of sharing a movie, a drink, and the touch of someone who cares. And in those stolen glances and unspoken connections, you find a new layer of solace, a fragile bridge between the past and the potential for a future where happiness is not just a memory but a living, breathing reality.

You whisper in Yelena's ear, "Tasha gave me the ring." Yelena is pulled from the movie, looking down at your hand that she's been playing with. "It was a promise ring. She got it for me in Budapest. Saying when things settled down, she'd do the whole down on one knee, and we'd have this beautiful wedding where she'd wear a black dress instead of a white one. Everyone would be there, and we'd go back to Budapest for our honeymoon. When we'd come back, we'd ask for a safe house where we could just live quietly between missions..."

You don't realize you’re crying until Yelena is wiping the tears from your face. "I'm sorry... I didn't... I'm ruining movie night, aren't I?" You choke on your own sobs, but Yelena just pulls you against her, hugging you tightly. "No, you haven't ruined anything, Y/N. It's okay."

You hold onto her, shifting slightly until she's in your lap, once again feeling like a puzzle piece as we bury our faces into each other's necks. "If you had gotten married, I hope she would have come found me to be her maid of honor... though I don't know how good I'd be at that," Yelena admits.

In that vulnerable moment, amidst the shared pain and unspoken understanding, Yelena's admission brings a bittersweet smile to your face. The weight of Natasha's absence still lingers, but in Yelena's presence, you find a different kind of strength—a strength born out of shared grief, compassion, and the subtle promise of moving forward, even if it's one tear-streaked movie night at a time.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yelena wakes you up, gently calling your name and crawling onto your bed. "Y/N... Y/N..." She speaks softly, shaking your arm lightly. In your half-awake form, you turn to face her, pulling her into a tight embrace, her face against your chest. You can smell her shampoo, pomegranates, and make a noise of content. "Y/N, I have to go," Yelena whispers.

"No," You refuse, not letting her go. In fact, you hold her a little tighter. "Yes, I must. The widows need me," she insists.

"I really don't want you to go... I worry so much every time you go out that door. I know you're the world's greatest assassin, but so was Natasha before you," You confess. Yelena cups your cheeks. "I'll come back. I promise."

Natasha said those exact words too. You feel the tears in your eyes, spilling over before I have a chance to stop them. They're down your cheeks and running over her fingers. "I know words mean very little. I know Nat said similar words. I'm not leaving, though. I'll come back. It's just freeing more widows that have been found. That's all. It's safe. I promise. None of them come close to my skills."

Yelena wipes your tears and assures you that she'll come back. You know you have to let her go. "Please just come back safe, Lena. Please," You lean your forehead against hers. "I can't do this without you," You finally confess.

"I'll come back. I'll always come back. You can't get rid of me, not anymore. You're too deep into this," Yelena tells you, and you look at her, searching her face. "Lena..." Gods, you want to kiss her so badly just to show her how much you need her, but you promised Tasha...

Yelena leans in, kissing your cheek, almost reaching your lips. It's the first time she's ever kissed you in any way. "I'll be back. A few days, that's all," she reassures, placing another kiss on your cheek before she leaves. She looks at you one last time with a smile before heading out, leaving you there, curled up into a ball and crying. Now, you definitely couldn’t lose her.

The weight of her absence already looms large, and the brief touch of her lips on your cheek lingers like a promise in the air. As you try to gather yourself, the echoes of Yelena's words and the warmth of her fleeting kiss become the anchor in the storm of your fears. You know you must trust her, just as Natasha had asked you to trust her own choices.

In the solitude of your room, you cling to the hope that Yelena will return, that the few days she's away won't stretch into an eternity. The scent of pomegranates still lingers in the air, a reminder of her presence, and you find solace in the belief that your connection, however fragile, will endure the challenges that lie ahead.

"Please tell me you'll count that as the first move, Tasha?" You ask, directing your words to the air as you look at the ring on your finger. There's a moment of silent contemplation, a silent conversation with a memory.

Then, you get up and get dressed, facing the day with a mix of vulnerability and determination. The echoes of Yelena's departure still resonate in your mind, but as you glance at the ring, you find a subtle strength. The journey ahead may be uncertain, but in that quiet acknowledgment, you feel the weight of a promise made, a connection forged, and a future that holds the potential for healing and new beginnings.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Yelena kissed my cheek; she almost kissed my lips, actually," You run your fingers across your cheek and the corner of your lip. "She had to go on a mission, and she told me the same words you did before you left me forever. I broke down. I seem to do that quite a bit with her now." You’re looking at Natasha's grave. It has been two years now since she left. "Tasha, I know we had our plans, and I will never forget them, but I want to move on... I need to, and in order to do that..." You pull the ring off your finger, twisting it between your fingers. "I need to give this back to you, darling." You’re trying not to choke on your tears as they flow freely down your face. You wrap it up in a little cloth, a red one, and bury it just a little ways down. "Please be happy for me, darling. You know she'll always treat me right." You are full-blown crying as you kiss her gravestone and head back home, hoping Yelena is finally home.

As you walk away, the weight of the past feels a bit lighter, as if the act of returning the ring is a step towards embracing the future. The pain is still there, the memories still vivid, but in the tears and the quiet goodbye, there's a sense of release and a tentative hope for what lies ahead. You head back home, your heart heavy but with a flicker of anticipation, hoping Yelena's absence will soon be replaced by her comforting presence.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Yelena comes back home, she finds you crying on the floor. She picks you up into her arms and holds you as you sob. When you finally come to from your crying session and register that she's back, you cup her cheeks and slam your lips against hers a little rougher than you intend. You soften up a bit when you realize how rough you truly were.

"You're back..." you whisper against her lips.

"I told you I'd be back," she whispers back, grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you back in. The two of you kiss, hungry and passionate, as if she's been waiting all her life for this moment. In the embrace of her arms, the pain of the past and the uncertainty of the future momentarily fade away. There's only the warmth of the present and the promise of a new chapter, where healing and love can coexist, a testament to the resilience of the heart after weathering the storms of loss.

"Yelena..." You pull back, leaning your forehead on hers.

"I've been waiting forever for that," Yelena admits.

"I know you were grieving, so I just wanted to be here for you, and I was never sure if I should act on my feelings," Yelena tells you, and you give her a soft, quick kiss this time.

"I talked with Tasha about it and promised I wouldn't make the first move," Yelena laughs. "When was this?" she questions.

"A year ago at her grave. You were on a mission, and I went to visit her just before starting up the Avengers company. I told her about how I was falling for you and to not hate me for it. The wind whipped around me, and so I promised I wouldn't make the first move. When you kissed my cheek before leaving, I took that as you making the first move. I visited Natasha yesterday and told her about it and gave back her ring. I left it with her so that I could move forward," You explain, feeling a mixture of vulnerability and relief.

Yelena brushes her thumbs against your tear-stained cheeks and listens to your words. "I promise I'll live up to your expectations. I'll do everything I can to do right by you, Y/F/N," she says, and you chuckle at the use of your full name.

"I know you will, and so does Natasha. I don't think I could be in better hands than yours, Lena," You say, feeling a sense of acceptance and hope for the future. The weight of grief begins to lift, replaced by the promise of a new chapter, and the knowledge that love, even after loss, has the power to mend and rebuild.

[wuahae]

☼ dayglow

pairing: mingyu x f!reader

wc: ~19k

synopsis: in which it's the summer before college, the new lifeguard is a pain in your ass, and you just want to have fun surfing before you have to leave it all behind.

notes: lifeguard!mingyu, surfer!reader, brief one-sided enemies-to-lovers, summer-before-college!au, netflix coming-of-age romcom coded, set in hawaii, special thanks to @husbandhoshi for helping me with the finishing touches mwah <3

It’s the sign of summer—water glistening in midday sunlight, loud chatter from families with beach blankets and baskets ready for a relaxing day out, people littered throughout the expanse of sand ready to sunbathe their vacation time away. Sun and sea salt, what more could you ask for?

A lot, apparently. And quite frankly, you think it’s ridiculous.

It’s almost unfair how the cards have so ruthlessly turned against your favor, especially on what you consider your turf. As hard to believe as it may be, especially with the current…state of things, your favorite beach used to be quiet before this summer. The only activity you would really see would be an occasional elderly couple taking their evening walks along the sand or rare sparse picnic blankets spread out for a quiet sunset date. Even the seabirds didn’t cause much of a ruckus here.

That was until him—the bane of your existence, the unwitting source of all your social migraines, the tragic end to your peaceful solitude: Kim Mingyu.

Apparently, spending his summer as a beach lifeguard was of the utmost importance to him, and with his grandpa as the previous lifeguard for the past decade, getting employed at this particular beach was basically guaranteed. Not much to complain about, in concept, just a guy fresh out of high school looking for a quick, easy buck—you respect it, even. But when his idea of ‘summer fun’ comes at the expense of your own peace and quiet, you think it’s only reasonable that his name leaves a distaste in your mouth.

His first day on the job, someone (you think it was the girl who pretended she couldn’t swim) had spilled that local hottie Kim Mingyu was working shifts as a lifeguard at this hidden beach, and no less than twenty-four hours after, googly-eyed teenagers (and single moms) ready to take in the latest local attraction began populating his shifts. And unfortunately, the googly-eyed teenagers just happened to include your best friend, meaning you were spared no solace from the presence of your worst enemy.

“I just think he’s so…” Chaeyoung sighs, hand under her chin as she lays sprawled on the beach blanket. You think she would start kicking her feet if it wasn’t so unbecoming to do outside of the privacy of her bedroom. “So…”

“Annoying?” you pitch in, popping a strawberry in your mouth. “Obnoxious? Tacky? Unnecessary?”

“Dreamy…” she finishes, a long glance drifting to his lifeguard tower. You can practically see the hearts coming from her eyes. Her head snaps to you, finally registering your interruption. “What do you mean unnecessary…” She’s incredulous. “He’s serving his community! Protecting the local beachgoers!”

“Exactly, this is a beach,” you point out, gesturing around you. “What even happens here?” 

Chaeyoung sits up, passionate. “A lot!” she exclaims, hands gesturing in emphasis. “Rip currents! Heat strokes! Drowning kids…drowning kids!”

You look at her plainly. “You know none of that happened here before Mingyu came along.” The last lifeguard spent his time falling asleep on the tower balcony, sunscreen smeared on his nose and all.

“Exactly…” She leans in, eyes narrowed. “You know what, I think those single moms are telling their kids to fake-drown so that Mingyu will have to save them. I heard this lady tell her eight-year-old she’d buy him malasadas if he went into the deep end.”

“Chaeyoung.”

“What! It’s true…" She ponders a little, shifting the sunglasses on top of her head. "They're definitely onto something though. Do you think I—"

"Chaeyoung."

"It would be the perfect opportunity!" Chaeyoung clasps her hands together, voice dreamy as she imagines it in her head. "I'd 'accidentally' make my way into the deep end—suddenly I can't swim, I've ingested too much water and by the time Mingyu's able to rescue me…" she trails off, turning to you with starry eyes. "He gives me mouth-to-mouth…"

"He'd break your ribs with chest compressions."

Chaeyoung places a hand on your arm, grave. "It would be worth it."

You can’t even control the utterly exasperated sigh that escapes you, pinching the bridge of your nose as you reach for another strawberry. “What do you even see in him anyway?” You wrinkle your nose, feeling yet another Mingyu-induced migraine coming. “He’s not all that.”

"Yes he is!" Chaeyoung insists, waving the tiny fruit fork at you. "He's hot, he's well-mannered, he's good with kids, he's hot—"

"You said that already."

"It needs to be emphasized twice." This is serious business for Chaeyoung. "Have you even seen him?"

"Yes," you respond dryly, rolling your eyes, "and he's still not all that." You hold your hand out, counting down your fingers. "He takes this job way too seriously for one—"

"It shows dedication—"

"There is no job where he needs to be doing all…" you gesture to him up on that lifeguard tower sitting on that stupid stool of his—shirtless, binoculars strung around his neck, his red swim trunks an inseam inch too short. Insufferable. "...That. He probably does it on purpose."

Some girl in the distance, too busy watching Mingyu, trips over her little brother and faceplants into the water.

Chaeyoung shakes her head. "No way is he trying to look that hot."

"Of course he is," you retort. "Just look at the amount of sunscreen he wears." Mingyu downright glistens with the amount he puts on his body, only serving to accentuate his tanned, toned muscles. (You won't deny what's right in front of you, after all, but only to yourself. You would rather die than admit you find any part of him attractive out loud, especially to Chaeyoung.) It just has to be on purpose. 

"What does he even need that much for?" you add on, insistent. "He's up in that tower all damn day."

Chaeyoung lightly swats at you. "That just means he takes care of his skin…" she lets out another dreamy sigh. "Isn't it nice that he cares."

"That is just some guy."

Chaeyoung flops defeated onto the blanket. "You just think that because you knew him in high school."

Ah, yes. Kim Mingyu, fellow classmate for all four years of high school. Before he was the bane of your existence, he was just that kid you knew in homeroom, the boy who kept trying (and failing) to balance pencils on his nose, the centerpiece of the notorious sophomore year incident where he tipped back his chair too far back and crashed right as the vice-principal walked in for the monthly classroom evaluation, the kid who napped through most of your third period precalc classes because he couldn't, for the life of him, care about unit circles and piecewise functions. He still never returned that pen you let him borrow in English that one time during senior year.

So no, you really don't get all the hype around him. 

Chaeyoung is still off in her own little world. "Do you think he needs help putting on sunscreen? Or better yet, do you think he would help me put on my sunscreen—"

You let out a noise of dismay, reaching over to your bag and tossing a can of spray-on sunscreen over to her. "You can do it yourself."

She slaps a hand over her chest, wounded. "You're always so mean to me…" Chaeyoung wipes a fake tear, clutching onto the spray can. "Where is your sense of imagination, of romance?"

Standing up, you brush off stray sand from your bottom before you reach for your surfboard lying next to the blanket. "Sorry if I'm not delusional, Chaeyoung."

She grumbles your words under her breath, imitating your cadence and all, and she makes sure you catch all of it before you walk away. "'Delusional deshmusional,' no wonder you're single."

You send her an unamused look. She counters with a petty "Hmph," nose turned up in the air, then flips over to sunbathe. 

Rolling your eyes, you hoist your board up to your side and make your way towards the shore, expertly sidestepping the little kids playing tag, and you walk past Mingyu's lifeguard tower.

"Hey, Y/N," he calls down from above, a little smile and wave accompanying it. You squint up at him, a hand on your forehead to block the sun. You suddenly recall a past conversation with Chaeyoung, similar to all the conversations concerning Mingyu you have with your friend. 

("It's like when I look up at him he glows…"

You dryly retort back at the memory of your friend. That's just the sun blinding you.)

"Catching waves again?" Mingyu asks, and if it weren't for your crippling desire to not make enemies with people who don't reciprocate the same animosity, you would have given him a sarcastic gesture to the surfboard in your arms and a dry "what do you think?" to accompany it.

But Mingyu is nothing but earnest and unknowing, much to your chagrin, and you can sense his puppy-like desire to be friendly with an old high school classmate even through those obnoxious designer sunglasses he has sat on his nose. So you settle for thinly veiled politeness instead, nodding your head when you hum your confirmation. "Just the usual."

He grins at that, along with his standard "have fun!" and you give him a civil smile and thanks before making your way to the water. 

The waves lap at your feet the instant you arrive, sand between your toes, and you think you'll miss this when you leave. The ocean, the air, the people.

But if there's one thing you're certain of, you think, paddling further into the water. Kim Mingyu is not going to be a part of that list.

"So let me get this straight," Seungkwan says, agonized. "You're telling me you haven't even started sending in profiles for your incoming freshman class's Instagram?"

You're slow on the uptake, apparently. "Yes… Was I…supposed to?"

No amount of caricature drawings could truly encapsulate the horror in Seungkwan's face. "It's already August!"

“Again,” you repeat, leaning against the counter. Island music crackles quietly out of the old speaker in the corner of the room. “Why does it matter?”

“You leave at the beginning of September, which means there’s only a few more weeks until you’re up in the mainland all alone—in California, no less!” Seungkwan places a hand on your shoulder, pitying eyes looking you up and down. “You know you need all the help you can get making friends…”

“Hello?” you exclaim, dismayed. “I have friends!”

Seungkwan is unconvinced. Unimpressed, even. “Yeah? Who, the fish you surf with?”

“You literally just hung out with Chaeyoung last week.”

He dismisses your defense with a handwave and a shake of the head. “Chaeyoung doesn’t count, she’s the unfortunate product of childhood friend loyalty.”

You feel so wronged. “What about you?”

Seungkwan sighs dramatically, hand to his chest in faux sentiment. “I do have a knack for charity, don’t I…”

“Says the guy who practically begged me to work here with him so he wouldn’t be lonely on shift.”

Boo’s Shave Ice, the go-to local favorite, your place of employment for the past four summers ever since Seungkwan met you in freshman Racket Sports and dragged you up the rankings in Badminton King’s Court until you were reigning champions for the rest of the semester. He had claimed that working at his family’s shave ice place with him was payment for having him carry you all semester (not that you asked), but you figured having an easy place of employment for extra money towards college savings was always a good idea.

“I’m just saying,” Seungkwan insists, and you can almost sense a shred of sincerity in him. “Me and Chaeyoung aren’t gonna be there with you up there, Y/N. I’m worried.”

You let out a long sigh, and you’re about to open your mouth to retort some cliché reassurance you’ve parrotted a hundred times before when the bell jingles at the door. Your best customer service smile slips on your face and you turn to cheerfully greet the incoming customer. “Welcome to Boo’s Shave—” your breath hitches “—Ice.”

It’s Mingyu. With his gaudy board shorts always an inch too short, his button up shirt with too few buttons actually used, his toes exposed in flip-flops just to top it all off. Like you needed your day to get worse.

“Hey, man!” Seungkwan calls, extending his hand over the counter for a crisp handshake. All of your friends are uncaring of the torment this man adds to your mortal coil, you lament. Maybe Seungkwan was right, maybe you should start finding some new friends on the incoming freshman Instagram page. “What can I get for you?”

“Just the usual,” Mingyu responds, fishing out his wallet from his pocket. “With mochi this time.”

Seungkwan nods, reaching for the stack of paper bowls. “On it!”

While he gets to work with the three bottles of fruit syrup and freshly shaved ice in the bowl, you slink away to the cashier to check out Mingyu’s order. “Rainbow with condensed milk and mochi?”

“Yup,” he responds, grinning, his canines annoyingly sharp and obvious. You call out his price and spin the iPad around for him to insert his card, and while Mingyu waits for the payment to process he starts talking. “I saw you do that aerial yesterday,” he says, and you almost startle. “Very impressive.”

You almost want to be defensive about it, badger him on why he was watching you surf when there were clearly more people on that beach yesterday in need of his…attention. But you tamp it down, laughing awkwardly as you look to the side to check on Seungkwan’s progress before looking back at Mingyu. “Thanks, I…” Just what are you supposed to say to that. “Worked hard on it?”

Mingyu laughs, tapping on the screen before taking his card out. “Yeah, I’m sure. I’ve heard a lot of highlights from Gramps about your old surf meets.”

Your smile tightens a little, heart squeezing at the mention. “Ah, yeah. The good old days.”

“You’re going to California for school next year, right?” Mingyu asks, eyes brightening. “Congrats on that, by the way! It’s not every day you hear about someone local going out of state for college. Are you gonna keep surfing when you’re there?”

“I, um—” you make a quick glance at Seungkwan—how long does it take to make a single shave ice—and his eyes meet yours, catching your silent cry for help.

“Your shave ice is ready, Mingyu!” Seungkwan exclaims loudly, half-slamming half-sliding it across the counter. “Have a nice day!”

“Oh,” Mingyu’s attention is successfully diverted, grabbing his bowl. “Thanks, man.” He turns, not before waving at you with his spare hand and a spoon in his mouth. “See you around, Y/N.”

You never thought the door jingle would be such a relieving sound until you heave out a long breath when the door closes, bracing your hands on the edge of the counter as you slump forward, eyes closed. Seungkwan’s presence looms over you, and you know he’s standing arms crossed and foot tapping without having to look.

“So,” he starts lightly. “What was all that about?”

Turning your head slowly to face him, Seungkwan has his lips tilted in a slight frown, forehead with a slightest crinkle of worry. “I know you’re not the biggest fan of him, but you’ve never gotten all tense like that before.” His frown deepens, opening his mouth to choose his words carefully. “Was it because he brought up surfing when you—”

“Seungkwan.” 

It slips out harsher than you mean it to, and you’re already fumbling over your words trying to pick up the pieces, but Seungkwan’s mouth snaps shut, apologies written all over his face. “Sorry,” he mumbles, fiddling with the rim of his plastic glove. “My bad.”

You make a small, pitiful noise, waving your hand to clear the air. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap like that.”

Crackly island music continues playing through the speaker, air conditioning whirring loudly in the background. Seungkwan tries again, hesitant. “Are you okay, though?”

“Yeah.” Your chest is tight. You can’t breathe. “I’m fine. Look,” you nod your head to the family walking up to the store, chattering away excitedly. You can spot a tourist family from a mile away. “Customers are coming.”

The bell jingles, and a smile plasters on your face again. Like truth, like habit.

“Hi! Welcome to Boo’s Shave Ice—what can we get started for you today?”

The view of the beach was always best looking from above, you think. Feet dangling from the edge of the open back of your Jeep, you soak in the sound of the waves crashing into the rocks and the way the sun warms your skin as you sit parked on the beach lookout.

Chaeyoung swings her feet next to you, bikini top and denim shorts clad, peering over at your acai bowl before pointing with her spoon. Wordlessly, you tilt your bowl over, to which she takes a spoonful with a happy shoulder wiggle and a grin.

“So, what’s the verdict?” she asks, spoon in her mouth as she swipes through her phone gallery. “I think the first three are the best for posting, but also I don’t want to overlap pictures in our posts.” Chaeyoung taps a manicured finger on her chin, then nudges her phone at you. “Which ones do you want to post?”

You hum, swiping through the favorited pictures. The pictures themselves were nothing special, if you were being honest. Just the casual beach day poses and candids, but Chaeyoung had insisted on having as many pictures taken this summer as possible to keep as an archive before you had to leave.

“I like this one,” you point, handing the phone back to her. “I’ll just post that.”

“That’s it?” Chaeyoung questions, eyes wide. “But… but the slideshow…”

“You can post a slideshow,” you tease, taking a spoonful of her acai bowl. “You have all the rest to choose from.”

She pouts at you, taking a bite of her own food. "If you wanna be that way.”

“Send me all of the pictures though,” you add on. They’d be good to add into your collection of ‘The Summer Before College’ memories.

Chaeyoung rolls her eyes, scoffing. “Duh, I’m already on it. By the way, I heard from Seungkwan you were gonna send in a post to the freshman page?”

You groan, flopping back into the open space of the trunk. “Don’t even remind me, he was nagging me about sending one in all shift last weekend.” Spoon held with emphasis, you shake it in indignancy. “Did you know he said I didn’t have any friends?”

“Well, babe…”

“Et tu!”

She winces, and at least you can say she’s more apologetic about it than Seungkwan was. “Aw, don’t be like that. You know you take a while to warm up to people. Besides, I’m your friend!”

You turn over to your side, grumbling. “Seungkwan said that’s only because of childhood friend obligations.”

Chaeyoung blows it off with a small “psshh” and turns to lay down beside you, propping herself up on her arms. “Please, everyone knows that childhood friends have a four-year long-distance expiration date. And look,” she tucks her chin into her hands for extra effect. “I’m still here!”

“Bummer…”

Chaeyoung coos, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you onto your back again. “You know you love me. And Y/N,” she says, poking your cheek. “Stop being a worrywart.”

“I am not—”

“Yes you are,” she insists, bobbing her head. “See, you’re already developing wrinkles right here—” a thumb presses between your furrowed brows “—and college hasn’t even started yet!” Chaeyoung sighs, fretting. “No wonder you’re single—”

“I’m fine,” you counter, exasperated, swatting her thumb away for good measure. “Both you and Seungkwan have nothing to worry about.” You pause, before snapping your head to her. “And stop saying that! You’re single too!”

“But I have options,” Chaeyoung emphasizes, tucking her hand back under her chin. “You know Joshua from the oriental medicine shop?”

“Hong?”

“Yeah, Joshua Hong…” Her legs start kicking and her hands fly to her cheeks. “I think he likes me, Y/N!”

“What makes you think that?” you ask, doubtful.

“You know how my grandma always drinks her medicinal tea, right? Well, last week I went to pick up her prescription ‘cause my parents were busy with work, and when we looked at each other…” Chaeyoung pauses her tangent to look at you with sparkling eyes. “You just had to be there, Y/N, it was love at first sight, I’m telling you! And he was such a gentleman when I asked for the medicine…”

“Chaeyoung, I’m pretty sure he was just doing his job?”

“I’m in love…”

You snort, patting her on the arm. “Good luck with that.”

“Do you want me to set you up with someone too? I know some people!”

“For the last time I’m not dating Soonyoung—”

“But why not—”

“Because he thinks he’s a tiger!” you exclaim, and Chaeyoung pauses before bursting into giggles, falling down next to you. As infectious as ever, your smile rises despite your previous objections, which then turn into matching laughter alongside Chaeyoung. You think it’s nice, not being made to think about your worries when you’re with her.

There’s an unwritten rule, put into play ever since Chaeyoung moved back to the island after four years away: to not mention the future. As trivial as it may have seemed, it was important. To two kids between the cusp of childhood and adulthood, you wanted to at least have somewhere you didn’t have to worry about anything the world threw at you, where you could just be yourselves.

You knew too much of what you were supposed to become, and Chaeyoung knew too little, but at least you had a place where none of that mattered.

“Oh,” Chaeyoung perks up, still giggling. “I almost forgot. Do you have a shirt you could lend me?”

You hum, reaching over to a small bag you have stashed away in the corner of your trunk. “Yeah, why?”

“My shift is a little after this and I forgot to bring an extra shirt,” she agonizes. “And my manager already doesn’t like me.”

You toss your extra shirt to her, and she sighs in relief. “Thank you, you’re a lifesaver.”

“Should we get going then?” you ask, hopping off the back of your Jeep. “I doubt your manager would be happy with you being late again.”

Chaeyoung protests, desperate to prove her innocence. “I was late twice—”

“And you’re gonna be late a third time if you don’t get in!”

You didn’t expect anyone else to be here.

Not at the early daytimes of the morning when the sun has just barely peeked its head out from under the horizon, not when the sky is flushed a soft rose and gold over the ever expansive sea. It was rare to see people at the beach this early in the day, and even rarer to see people at this particular beach at this time. Most people wouldn’t start flooding into the beach until noon, when Mingyu’s shifts would start.

Which is why it shocks you to see Mingyu walking out of the water, hair dripping, surfboard in hand. He doesn’t seem to expect seeing you either, with how he visibly jumps when he catches sight of you.

“Oh, hey,” he says, the greeting still slipping out despite his surprise. “You almost scared me, you’re not usually here this early.”

“Ah, well, I heard the waves would be pretty good today. And you know me,” you respond awkwardly, gaze slipping down to the board at his side. “Always itching to ride the best waves.”

Mingyu laughs at that, carding a hand through his hair, wet tips already starting to curl at the ends. “Yeah, I remember. You used to skip first period all the time when the surf was good. Mrs. Kim ended up giving up on you showing up for class during surfing season as long as you would make up the work later.”

You smile wryly at that, a rush of embarrassment warming your chest, diluted only by the nostalgia of it all. “I never ended up apologizing to her for that. I think I stressed her out way more than I should have.”

“Couldn’t have stressed her out more than me,” Mingyu jokes. “If you ever end up going back to apologize to her, take me with you. I never said sorry for sleeping through all of her classes either.”

You stifle a laugh at that, grinning up at him. “That’s right, I almost forgot. I don’t think you were awake for any classes before lunch.”

Mingyu whines, shaking his head. “Can you blame me? Those classes were earlier than any normal person could be awake for.”

Teasing, you raise your brow. “And yet here you are now, up even earlier than any of our classes ever were. By the way,” you mention, gesturing to his side. “I didn’t know you surfed?”

He pauses at that, like he almost forgot about the surfboard in his hand. If you didn’t know any better, you would almost think he starts fidgeting at the mention, with how he rotates the board up and leans it from one hand to the other. As if he was nervous at being caught, like he wanted it to go unmentioned—unnoticed.

“I don’t, really,” Mingyu says eventually, rubbing the back of his neck. A drop of water falls from a strand of his hair, soaking into the sand. “Gramps just taught me when I was young, and I just do it sometimes for fun.”

“Isn’t that what surfing is though?” you question, tilting your head. “Fun?”

“Yeah, but, I don’t know,” he fumbles hastily, trying to think of the right words to say. “I wouldn’t really say I surf though,” Mingyu settles on eventually, and the word carries a weight you’re unfamiliar with. “Not like you.”

Like me?

Mingyu can see the visible confusion in your eyes and he just smiles, picking up his board. “Nevermind. That probably sounded stupid, huh?”

“Huh? No, I—”

“Hey,” he interrupts, and the tilt of his lips is something you’ve never seen before. It’s appeasing, subdued, almost like he’s let go of something important for the sake of something else. “Don’t even worry about it. Have fun surfing, okay?" Mingyu takes a few steps, before turning back with slight embarrassment on his face. "And if it’s not too much to ask, could you keep this whole thing—” he gestures to the board “—a secret?”

You want to pry for an explanation, press him until he's forced to spill. He was never good under pressure, which is why you’re almost tempted to make him crack to satiate your curiosity, but maybe it's because you know that about him that you decide to bite your tongue. Because the way Mingyu talks about surfing is unfamiliar to almost everything you thought you knew about him—like you’ve stumbled across something you weren’t supposed to see, like you’ve accidentally dug a nail into the soft skin of a tangerine with the secrecy he’s asked of you.

So you utter a single “okay,” and watch the relief wash over Mingyu’s face at your small nod. He thanks you in the same breath he says his goodbyes, and he doesn’t wait for your response before he jogs away.

The moment still lingers in your mind when you paddle out into the ocean, and even afterwards, when you’ve satiated your appetite for a morning surf. It comes back into the forefront in flashes at unexpected moments—the light blush of sunrise, quiet waves lapping at the shore, the sincerity in Mingyu’s smile before he left. The orange stain of the rind doesn’t feel as bad as you thought it would, you come to accept hours later, laying on your bed. 

The smell of citrus is almost nice, the way it lingers.

It was supposed to be a small occasion. Just your parents and a couple of aunties and uncles that were close enough to share your goodbye dinner with. But like all small occasions go, your parents get ambitious and prideful and suddenly there's a feast in the kitchen hefty enough to feed a dozen people.

If you were being honest, the party was mostly for them. 

You personally couldn’t have cared less if they’d thrown an extravagant celebration complete with confetti and party poppers, or if they’d just given you a pat on the back and a gift card for future Starbucks runs—your parents had already done enough for you to feel loved. But for them, they wanted every chance possible to celebrate their little girl getting into college, moving away from home, taking her first steps into adulthood. So you bite down your objections about the festivities your dad insists on hosting, try to match your mom’s enthusiasm for DIY dorm decor and tourist destinations around campus, and let your parents enjoy what’s left of the summer with the child they’ve grown to know.

“Here,” your mom says, shoving a batch of napkins and plastic utensils into your hands. “Set these on the table in the garage, I need to get ready before the guests get here.” And almost as if on signal, your uncles’ muffled guffaws from outside make their way through the house’s walls, and your mom lets out a gasp of panic. “Tell your father to keep them busy,” she says frantically, scurrying out of the kitchen. “They can’t see me like this.”

“Mom, you look fine,” you chide softly, walking to the door. “I’m sure no one will mind if you don’t have makeup on for a family dinner.”

“Tell that to your aunt,” your mom bites back, poking her head out of the bathroom. “I’ll never live down the shame if she ends up looking better than me at our party.”

You give her a good-natured eye roll and twist the doorknob to the garage, greeting the guests outside. At your appearance you’re met with a chorus of overlapping cheers and congratulations from everyone, pulled into hugs by aunties and having your hair ruffled and back patted (way too violently, in your opinion) by your uncles.

As lamely as you say your thanks and try to weave between sneak attack bear hugs, you can’t say this felt like anything but home—the familiarity you’ve grown accustomed to. But still, you have a reputation to uphold, so you quash down the sentiment of it all and set the napkins down onto the plastic table with a firm announcement. “Dinner’s ready in five! There’s more in the kitchen if anyone wants extra.”

There’s a cacophony of cheers, your mom finally enters the garage with perfectly touched up eyes and lips (a smug glance sent to your aunt, with a near identical makeup look powdered on), and the dinner party finally starts.

It starts off good-natured, as it always does. Calls to pass around the mac salad and shoyu chicken, empty beer bottles accumulating by the second at every uncle’s feet, the insistent ushering of aunties for you to have more food. But the topic of conversation veers into California, to the major you're studying and what you're bringing to the dorms and "Y/N, are you bringing your surfboard with you?"

Your mom asks it with the purest of intentions—something about how the surf must be good up there and she's always wanted to know what California beaches were like, and your dad adds with a puff of his chest how you'd only surf the best and you have to break their bubble of excitement with the news. 

"Oh I'm, um, not." Everyone at the table goes quiet. You push around the extra fried rice your auntie had scooped onto your plate. It tastes like sawdust. "Bringing it to California, I mean."

The table blinks at you (your uncles set down their beer bottles on the table in shock), and your aunt asks a single, “But why?”

The heat of everyone’s gaze bores into you, but all you can think of is the wood paneling peeling on the side of the house, the cabinets that your parents never got around to replacing even after the past termite infestation left them eroded and worn, the pictures and decorations your mom picked out and places purposefully on the walls to cover up the bits of chipping paint. “I just don’t think I’ll keep surfing when I’m there,” you say finally, stuffing a piece of chicken in your mouth. You try to resist the urge to shrink in your seat at the silence that follows.

(“What a waste,” your aunt whispers under her breath. She is rarely as subtle as she pretends to be, but you don’t even think she bothered pretending this time. )

“O-oh,” your mom tries, looking around the table to dissipate the mood. “That’s fine, sweetie, I was just wondering.” She nudges your dad, who proceeds to cough on his barbequed short ribs, then joins her in your defense.

“It’s normal for kids to grow out of their interests, we won’t force her to do anything she doesn’t want to do,” he agrees. “Besides, the surfboard is always going to be here waiting for her when she comes back, it’s not like she has nothing to come back to.”

“But what if she forgets everything?” your aunt prods, disapproval in her voice. “Then all those years of hard work would be for nothing.”

“Have some more faith in her!” your mom scolds, standing to get more food from the big platters at the center of the table. “Besides, she’s going to California! It’s only natural that she’d want to try new things!”

Your grip on your spoon tightens.

Want. Isn’t that a funny thing? You’re sure your parents wanted many things too—to finish college, to get a nice job in their respective careers and work to save up for a house in that nice area near the beach that they always dreamed about having, the same one they reminisce on every time they drive past it. Maybe even have enough savings set aside to send their kid to college all four years debt free, to not have to debate between buying monthly groceries and splurging on an expensive item to treat themselves. And you want too, of course you do—what person doesn’t? But ‘want’ is a thing of privilege, you’ve grown to accept. An object of desire for those who can afford it.

You are not one of those people. So you try to not torture yourself with unattainable possibilities, and you accept the things that simply cannot be.

Your mom tries to divert the topic of conversation to other things, tries to dissipate the thick and heavy sense of disapproval in the air. She asks you what else you’re packing for the flight, if you know anyone else from the islands going there, if you’ve made friends yet, to not hesitate if you miss anything from home because she’ll send a care package and all you can hear is the muffled roaring of ocean waves and seafoam at your fingertips and god you can’t do this. 

The chair almost topples over with the speed at which you stand up, half-eaten plate of food growing cold at the table as your mom gapes at you with a sentence left unfinished, still waiting to be spoken.

“Y/N…?”

“I need to go.” You can’t fucking breathe.

And there’s so much you can tell everyone there wants to say. You haven’t even eaten anything, there’s still cake they bought from your favorite bakery waiting in the fridge, you can’t just walk out of your own party and if this were a different day or maybe even at a different time you would have bitten your tongue until you could taste the metal and eat your cake, copper-coated and all, but in this very moment you just can’t do it. So you ignore your mother’s wide eyes and pretend not to hear the words lodged in her throat, and you run.

Past the balloons and banners your dad had strung up on the outside of the garage, past your uncles’ trucks parked along the sidewalk in the front of your house, all the way to your Jeep parked a couple blocks away, your surfboard still tied to the top of it. The sun is already deep below the horizon, the last bit of it turning the sky a rich orange and pink.

(Waves crashing on rocks. Sand troughs at the bottom of the ocean. Seafoam. Everything you love, everything you have to let go of.)

You drive.

By the time you get to the beach, the sky has already turned into more of a dark blue than its previous wash of color. Distantly, you remember the warnings your father had always told you about the sea, the dangers you could find yourself in if you didn’t go in with a clear mind. But through the haze of dinner flashing through your mind and the buzzing in your fingertips as you untie your board from the roof of your car, you can’t bring yourself to care.

Things flood your mind in short bursts yet all at once—care packages and chipping paint and scholarship funds and that look on your parents’ face when you told them you’d gotten into the business program and shit you just want to make them proud and pay them back for everything they’ve done and—

“Y/N! Hey, the beach is closing soon where are you—”

It’s Mingyu’s voice, you register, somewhere within the fray. Funny. You didn’t even know he worked this late. 

The thought is brief before you dive straight into the water.

It’s muscle memory from there, your body doing what you’ve trained it to do for years and years and years. You paddle out a long distance away before stopping and waiting for your next chance. Darkening waters, light dimming from the sky, you’re the farthest you’ve ever gone.

You need this, you tell yourself, eyeing an incoming cresting wave. You need this, you need this now, because you’ll never have it again. You can never have it again.

And as the wave comes, you do what you’ve done for what seems like a million times (you swim towards it and your foot plants onto the board and everything goes right), until you feel your balance shift, the board slips out from under your feet, and you go crashing into the water below.

Immediately, the current thrashes you back and forth, the pressure from above bearing down on you as you try not to flounder your way up to the surface. You feel your surfboard around you in the middle of the chaos, the leash attaching your ankle to the board circling around the coral reef beneath you. Dread swells in your chest as you tug your foot once, then twice. It doesn’t budge.

Water roaring in your ears, adrenaline thrumming through your muscles, you try to break the leash again, and again, and again. Panic fully setting in, you try to pull your foot out for the last time, and in the same second it manages to slip out, a small shadow of a rescue float splashes onto the surface of the water, followed by a much bigger splash of someone jumping in after.

You reach your hand up, a trace of longing within your fingertips, and a hand plunges into the water, traveling the distance to grasp onto yours. 

Grip firm, you’re pulled upwards in a quick surge until you break the surface of the water, coughing and gasping in desperately needed air. You cling with weak arms onto the float, eyes burning with seasalt, and you meet Mingyu’s gaze from across the tube. He holds your gaze for a split second before turning and grabbing the handle of the float, dragging it towards the jet ski he had ridden here.

It's a silent affair, the way he hoists you up onto the jet ski before getting on afterwards. Mingyu collects the tube from the water and speaks for the first time since he pulled you out of the water.

“Are you okay?” he asks, giving you a glance over. You want to say yes, I’m fine, but the words lodge in your throat before you can even start to form them on your tongue. 

In the distance, floating a ways away, is the top half of your surfboard, cracked and split clean into two.

You can only manage a quiet nod, the unspoken words melding into a lump. Mingyu follows your gaze out to where the half floats and he lets out a soft “oh” at the sight. Gently, he guides your hands around his waist to hold as he starts the jet ski again, riding back to shore.

Dusk turns the air cold, the wind drying the water droplets lingering on your skin. The rush of current still echoes in your ears, limbs aching from fading adrenaline, and your mind buzzes in a static standstill all the way back. The flush of embarrassment heats in your chest as you think more about it—the fact that you of all people would have to be rescued like this, that you would wipe out this severely on a wave and routine this simple, something you had regarded innate like clockwork. You almost want to crumple into yourself at the thought, and then you remember that you had left halfway through dinner in a big scene all for this.

(For the shame, for the twist of the weight in your stomach, for a broken board at the end of it all. You were just so tired.)

Mingyu gets off with you when you arrive at shore, leading you to the lifeguard tower and up the stairs with gentle hands, grabbing a towel from one of the tables and a stool for you to sit down on. He flicks on the lamp by the table.

“Stay here,” he tells you, draping the towel over you. “I’ll be right back.”

You almost want to ask where, but by the look he gives you, he doesn’t even have to tell you for you to know.

You clutch the towel tighter around your frame and you nod again, a quiet “okay,” to accompany it, and you watch as Mingyu goes back to the water, his figure growing smaller as he rides out to find the remaining pieces of your surfboard. It’s almost funny, the way everything turned out. You don’t even have a board left to take with you, even if you wanted to; you tell yourself it’s for the best, that lack of temptation.

Mingyu returns a few minutes later, tells you that he placed the board in the storeroom and when you’re ready to take it back you can just grab it from here. You nod again, silent, and he lets the tension stretch until he snaps it himself.

“What were you thinking?”

The question is asked calmly, maybe even with a little underlying heat in it, but you think you would have preferred if he was just angry at you. To yell at you, to tell you how stupid you were to go out and surf a wave you knew you couldn’t handle, that you should’ve known better. But at your silence, he crouches down to your level and asks again; he does everything but yell.

“What happened out there?” His eyes are wide, searching, sincere. Your nails dig into your palm, salt pricking your eyes. “Don’t you know it’s dangerous? I told you the beach was almost closed, didn’t you hear me? Do you even know what could have happened if I wasn’t…”

The sting of sea salt turns into a burn, the heat behind your eyes lodging in your nose, your throat—you can’t just blame it on the sea salt anymore when you sniffle, wiping the first few tears that escape with the back of your hand. “I’m sorry,” you warble, your apology thick and teary as the dam finally collapses. “Fuck, I’m so sorry—”

Mingyu looks positively lost the more tears slip down your cheeks, former scolding evaporating into thin air as he fumbles his way around the shed searching for tissues. “Hey, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry, let me find you some tissues—” Mingyu knocks over a first-aid kit and stubs his toe onto the desk, stifling a whimper as he continues to hobble around “—I am so sorry please don’t cry—”

You sniffle through a giggle, and Mingyu stops. He turns to look at you with pitiful eyes and you wonder why exactly he looks like he’s about to cry too. Maybe the table leg really did do a number on his pinky toe. He offers you a tissue box, a little helpless. You take it with a watery smile.

A part of you still wants to hold onto the grudge you’ve held against him all summer, the you that stifles a sigh when he sneezes into his hands and laughs when he trips on the sand. It’s what you’re used to, what you’re comfortable with, a tiny slice of normalcy you’ve been aching for all evening. But the truth is—anything left of your pride has washed away with the tide and splintered with your broken board, and you can’t find it in yourself to be mad at him. Not even a little.

Mingyu shifts awkwardly as you dab away your tears, looking out the window before rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m gonna do a last check of the beach, okay? I’ll be back really soon.” He opens his mouth again as if to say more, but decides against it, turning back and forth before finally exiting the cabin and descending down the stairs. Looking down from the balcony, you can hear him muttering under his breath and smacking himself lightly on the head as his shoulders curl in from embarrassment.

You watch the sun dip completely under the sea as you wait for Mingyu to come back, the sky turning almost black in its absence. Trying to repress a shiver, you rub your arms absentmindedly through the towel as you watch Mingyu survey the expanse of the beach for any stray visitors, his single flashlight leading his location in the darkness. The last check is mostly just for warning. There wasn’t anyone to really stop people from trespassing after hours, but you know that Mingyu has to do his mandatory check and announcement that the beach was closed before any uncles wanting to do late night fishing or reckless teenagers hungry for quick thrills decided to pursue their activities at their own risk.

On his way back, the flashlight stops a little distance away from the lifeguard tower, hesitating, until you hear his soft steps outside before the door creaks open. Mingyu’s head pokes in.

“I’m done for the day,” he says, almost timidly. His eyes scan your face in the lowlight, as if searching for any remaining traces of tears in your eyes, and you can practically see the tension leave his body when you smile back at him.

Hopping off the stool, you meet him at the doorway, peering up at him still towel-swaddled. “Are you ready to head out?” Mingyu asks, and in the scattering dim lamplight, your eyes drift to the mole on the cusp of his jaw, the second on the tip of his nose. You wonder why you'd only noticed them now.

“Yeah,” you agree softly, ducking under his arm through the door. “Let’s go.”

The walk back to your Jeep is a quiet one, your feet shuffling in flip-flops as you and Mingyu try to match each other—Mingyu syncing his steps with yours, you quickening your pace to keep up with his long strides. It isn’t until you arrive that he speaks again, between the unlocking and opening of your trunk.

“What are you going to do now?” Mingyu asks, the lightpost flickering above you in short bursts (blink—blink—stay). The question is innocent, earnest, just like how Mingyu normally is. But still, your gut twists at the thought of ‘after.’ 

Sighing, you reach to pull a duffel bag from the back of the trunk to the edge. “Well,” you start out tentatively. “To be honest with you, I don’t really know.” 

Biting your lip, you zip open the duffel bag, rifling through the items. “It’s a little…complicated to go home straight away,” you confess, pulling out an extra pair of shorts, setting the extra undergarments you have to the side of the bag (Mingyu has the decency to avert his eyes). “So I really don’t…” have a plan, you mean to finish, but all that comes out of your mouth is “...shit.”

“Huh?” Mingyu’s head snaps to you before snapping away, squeezing his eyes shut to avoid catching unwelcomed glimpses of underwear. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you respond, but it sort of comes out as a mix between a pitiful moan and a mournful cry. You look at the inside of your bag in utter defeat. Even in the midst of the chaos of unfurled clothes, the absence of your extra shirt is glaringly obvious. You forgot to put another one in your bag after Chaeyoung took it last week. 

Imaginary Chaeyoung’s face appears in your mind, giving you a wink and a thumbs up with such gusto and infuriating enthusiasm that you’re already drafting your fifteen-line malice-filled text message to her, cursing her and her future generations and all. That is, until—

“Y/N?” Right. Mingyu was still here. You’re pretty sure he could see the despair radiating off of you in heavy and visible waves.

"No, everything's fine," you slump, face in your hands. "It's just my friend borrowed my only extra shirt and now I…" The wet swimsuit seems to cling even colder at the confession.

"Oh, I have an extra shirt in my trunk if you want?"

Perking your head up, your eyes practically sparkle. "Really?" You trail after him as he walks to his parked truck, opening the backdoor and taking out a small black bag and a wrinkled shirt inside it.

"Yeah, here—" he begins, but stops himself, taking a small sniff of the cloth before wrinkling his nose. "Actually, um, maybe you shouldn't borrow this after all…"

Your face falls; Mingyu catches it the moment it does.

"My house isn't far from here," Mingyu tells you, jabbing a thumb in the opposite direction of the beach. “I can lend you one of my shirts if we stop by?” His eyes are hopeful when he brings it up, like he wouldn’t be able to sleep well if he just let you go home in a cold, half-wet swimsuit top. “And—”

The distinct noise of your stomach growling interrupts him, and you both stop for a moment to truly register the sound. Mingyu looks down to your stomach, blinking, then turns away quickly to stifle his laughter. Heat flushes up your neck as your hands fly to your face, squeezing your eyes shut. 

There’s no way this is happening right now.

“I am so sorry, please ignore that,” you squeak, willing yourself to shrink down into microscopic particles and disappear, but Mingyu puts a hand on your shoulder right as you’re about to spiral in shame. 

“We can stop by my house,” he says gently, lips still quirking up at the corners, “and then we can get something to eat on the way back, okay?”

By the way he’s talking to you, you have a brief but horrid vision of your uncanny resemblance to a petrified hamster. But the warmth of his hand is still on your skin, and his eyes wait patiently for you to take up on his offer, so you let out a quiet, “okay.” 

(You figure it would be okay for you to run away for just a little longer, right?)

Mingyu grins in response, wide-toothed and lopsided, his hand slipping off of your shoulder to circle around to the driver’s side. You try not to notice the absence as you tug the handle of the car door open.

The little hula girl bobblehead on Mingyu’s dashboard wobbles to the tropical tunes playing through the stereo. 

You try not to stare at it for too long at a time (the rhythm is quite hypnotizing), but Mingyu notices your drifting glances making its way back to the figure and he jumps to explain. “It’s not mine, I promise,” he says lamely, gesturing towards it with a nod of his head. “My dad insisted on keeping it there when he handed the truck down to me; said since it’s older than me it has the right of seniority or something.”

Laughing, you shake your head, lips curled upwards. “No, no, it’s cute. Sounds like it means a lot to him.”

Mingyu exhales, exasperated, but it’s all lighthearted by the ease in his shoulders. “You could say that. A little too much, if you ask me.”

"But it's nice, isn't it?" you ask, peering at him. "To have him pass something so special down to you?"

He pauses, eyes fond when he nods. "Yeah, I guess so."

You soon arrive at a large gate a couple minutes later, sandwiched between two stone walls surrounding the perimeter of the property. It opens with a press of a button, Mingyu casually pulling into a driveway you’ve only ever had the privilege of seeing from a distance—longing looks from the sidewalk before you inevitably had to walk past, pictures online of houses one could only dream of having. Gravel crunches underneath the truck’s wheels as it slows to a halt, and Mingyu looks over at you, gesturing to the house. "Well, this is my place."

Hopping out, you try not to gape as you follow him to the front door, catching on the minute details of it all. The sleek pavement of the sidewalk leading up the front porch steps, the flowers and ferns in the front garden lush and vibrant with color alit with small garden lamps planted in the soil, an unblemished white painted on all sides of the house. The porch light flickers on the moment Mingyu steps on the smooth wood—warm, steady, alive.

Mingyu fumbles with his keys for a second before unlocking the house, shifting to the side for you to walk through first before following after. You wait patiently by the door while he flips on the lightswitch on the other side of the room, and it isn’t until he looks back at you and beckons you over that you trail behind him, feet shuffling in the house slippers he lends you.

“It’s a nice place,” you say softly when Mingyu slips into the laundry room, tossing his dirty spare shirt into the hamper. “Close to the beach, too.”

“Ah, yeah,” Mingyu shrugs, a half-hearted smile on his face. “It’s honestly more of my gramps’s than mine or my parents—he’s the one who bought it a long time ago—but I can’t say it’s not a nice place to live.”

You appreciate the honesty over forced humble pretenses; not that Mingyu was ever the type to try to appear different than who he really was, but you've spent far too much of your life trying to wade through false platitudes that his openness comes as a pleasant surprise. 

But even with its newly refurbished furniture and what Mingyu says to be freshly installed hardwood flooring, as you wander through the house, you realize it shows its age through the people living within it—the worn soles on his mother’s slippers that you’d borrowed, the gallery of pictures frames scattered across the hallway walls, scuffs on the family table you could only imagine came from old, infamous Mingyu mishaps.

Mingyu tells you he’ll be right back with an extra shirt and to make yourself comfortable, and you give him an acknowledging hum and nod in response, brushing your fingers lightly against the pencil marks etched into the wall beside his bedroom door, each line marked with an age as they climb up the wall. As you wait for him to rummage through his drawers, you turn back to the assortment of photos displayed on the wall, a small desk in the corner to display the trinkets that couldn’t fit on the main display. 

Sepia photos mixed with more modern, saturated prints, they’re all shots of who you deduce is Mingyu’s grandfather surfing, posing on the beach, a sweet wedding photo of Mingyu’s grandparents’ wedding reception with a matching picture of Mingyu’s parents’ reception placed right below, interspersed with pictures of Mingyu through the ages, his baby pictures and school graduations and everything in between (there’s a specific one you stop on for a little laugh, his middle school graduation picture with slicked gelled hair and a stiff, awkward smile appropriate for a thirteen year old in a suit too big around the shoulders). You stop on a particular framed film picture of Mingyu’s grandfather, smiling brightly at the camera with a surfboard in one hand and a shaka sign in the other; a smaller picture sits tucked in the corner of the frame—eight-year-old Mingyu, gap-toothed and cheesing, doing the same matching pose with his dad.

You’d be lying if the pictures weren’t adorable enough on their own, but what evokes an uncontrollably fond smile from you is Mingyu’s almost uncanny resemblance to his grandpa, down to the wolfish grin that both wear with ease. Everyone had always teased him about it, especially back in high school, but you had always thought that it was all just cliché small talk from adults until now.

His home wasn’t so different from yours, you think, when it boiled down to it. Beneath all the polished wood and marble countertops was just a place that stored memories, love told through marks of youth and increments of time.

“Hope you’re okay with this spare,” Mingyu calls as he exits his room, gently breaking you out of your rêverie. “If not, I can find something else?” 

You hum in response, glancing at the black shirt in his hands. “No, that should be fine,” you say, holding out your hand. “Is there a bathroom I can use?”

He points down the hall, then crooks his finger. “Go straight and it should be on your left at the end of the hall.”

“Great, thank you.”

Following his directions, you find the bathroom and shut the door quietly. You allow yourself a split second of admiring the interior (what a fancy sink.) before changing quickly into his spare clothes, stuffing your still-damp bikini top into the bag you had brought inside with you. Questionable print on the graphic tee aside, you would rather gratefully accept his kind gesture than be shivering and cold in your damp swimsuit.

When you return, you find him still standing at the photo gallery, the tips of his ears tinged scarlet; you think you’re imagining it at first, maybe a trick of the light, but when you walk closer and look again, his ears still burn, arguably even brighter with you staring at him like that.

Blinking, you almost ask if he’s okay before he speaks, his voice seeped in embarrassment. “You were looking at the pictures before, right?”

“Yes…?”

“Did you see the, um…” Mingyu squeezes his eyes shut, looking away. “Did you see the one from my middle school graduation.”

Covering your laugh with a short, obvious fake-cough, you shake your head vigorously, hands waving in emphasis. “What? I can’t say that I did.”

Mingyu’s voice borders on a whine. “You’re lying, you did see it, didn’t you?”

 “No, no!” You hold your arms out in front of you in an ‘X,’ shaking your head again. “Not a single thirteen-year-old Mingyu in sight! Promise!”

Narrowing his eyes suspiciously, Mingyu grabs his keys from the counter, walking towards the front door. He holds it open for you to walk through first (a common habit, apparently), but you can’t help the teasing remark that slips past when you pass through the door. “You were quite dashing with that hair, though. Did it take long to gel like that?”

“I knew it!”

The diner Mingyu drives you to sits on a wind-up path from the road between his house and the beach. It’s quiet when you enter, the bell above the door jingling quickly followed by Mingyu’s friendly greeting towards the diner staff. The cook waves at him through the kitchen window the minute he spots him, a welcoming holler shouted his way, and the waitress smiles as she reaches for the stash of menus hidden under the counter.

“Sit wherever you’d like,” she calls, “I’ll be right there!”

Mingyu nudges you with a prompting motion, and you rock on your heels looking around the diner before taking a seat at the booth second-closest to the door, Mingyu sliding into the booth across from you. The waitress comes seconds after, handing a single menu to you, along with two glasses of water; you look to Mingyu on instinct, but the waitress has you beat to it.

“The regular for you, right?” she asks, a brow quirked up in amusement, and Mingyu grins.

“You know me so well.”

She pokes at him with the butt of her pencil, teasing. “How could I not—you come here too much.”

Mingyu slaps a hand over his chest in faux hurt, but she ignores him smoothly, instead turning her attention to you. “Hi, I haven’t seen you here before? My name’s Hayoung, by the way!”

You startle at the sudden attention. “Oh! Yeah, I, um,” your eyes flicker to Mingyu, “Mingyu recommended it for a late night snack, I was kind of just following him.”

 She raises a brow at that, nudging Mingyu again with the pencil as she whispers. “Late night, huh?”

He smacks it away, hissing. “Not like that!”

Hayoung hides her smirk behind her notepad, waving his objection with a flippant hand. “Anyway, enough about him,” she says, turning to you again. “Have you decided what you want yet? I can totally come back if you haven’t!”

Scanning through the menu, you point to the first item that catches your eye. “Can I just have a club sandwich? With the fries as a side.”

“Yeah, of course! I’ll be right out with those in a second!”

Hayoung places her notepad back in her apron and skips back to the kitchen, though not without another sneaky glance at Mingyu and his returning exasperation at her not-so-subtle implications. Mingyu shoots her a dirty look with her back turned, ears burning, before turning back to you while he grumbles under his breath about how they were never going to let him live this down.

(Hayoung and the cook gossip in loud whispers a few feet away, something about “he brought a girl here…” and how they were so proud, they thought he was going to be single forever—)

You stifle a laugh behind a sip of your water, and Mingyu looks at you with a hand shielding his face from the other side of the diner. He is just exhausted.

“What’s your regular order?” you ask, throwing a line to help drag him out of sinking embarrassment. It was the least you could do, especially after filing away the knowledge of his middle school photo for a later time.

“A double cheeseburger,” he replies, slowly pulling himself out of his wallowing. “With fries.”

You nod. “Of course. You can’t skip the fries.”

“See! I knew you would get it!”

You settle into comfortable small talk soon after, reminiscing about old classmates and sharing stories from the summer. According to the grapevine, Soonyoung had landed himself into a bit of trouble after he was almost caught running around your old middle school track half-naked after a poorly executed dare. All the security guard’s flashlight had caught was a head of platinum hair and a glimpse of tiger print boxers, but those details could only really narrow it down to one person. 

(You had raised a brow in between laughs at Mingyu's involvement in the whole incident, but he insisted on his innocence and that he only heard about it from other people afterwards. You believe him, if only because of his inability to lie.)

Though, even if Mingyu tried his hardest to act natural, it wasn’t hard to pick up the way he tries to skirt around the elephant in the room. You think it’s more for your sake than his, but with the lull of silence that falls after each brief burst of conversation, his awkward flitting gaze from you to the table to the kitchen and back to the table reminds you of everything that’s happened tonight.

You don’t necessarily want to bring it up yourself either, what with the embarrassment that still clings to you at just the thought of the memory. You were the one who’d made a big scene out of something you definitely could have prevented, after all. And even after everything, Mingyu was still kind enough to invite you back to his house and lend you his clothes, going so far as to invite you out to his favorite diner. It seemed a little too much to ask him to bear the weight of your emotional burdens on top of everything else he’s done for you tonight.

But when Hayoung comes over with both of your plates and Mingyu begins to open his mouth to say something, only to stiffly eat a fry instead, it really hits you. He saved your life.

Mingyu had already seen the most vulnerable parts of yourself, your crumbling and the aftermath—what was a little more of yourself bared? Maybe it’s the clatter of the kitchen cleaning up and the warm, yellow light of the diner that allows your shoulders to drop; or maybe, maybe—

(You’ll be gone in a month, anyway. By the time you’re back, it’ll be winter, and you’ll come back to the eternal sunny skies, and this will all be behind you. But when the wound is still fresh and the sea salt still stings too much to tell the difference between honesty and shame, you allow yourself to indulge in your selfishness a little more tonight.)

“So, um,” you start, nibbling at a fry on your plate. “About what happened tonight.”

Mingyu stops, eyes widening. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, it’s totally fine—”

“Mingyu,” you interrupt gently, meeting his gaze. “I want to.”

And so you tell him everything: the way your graduation dinner had fallen apart, that you ran away in the middle of your own party, the reason why you’d stupidly dove into a wave you knew you couldn’t handle.

“I just couldn’t do it anymore.” Your confession comes soft, an exhale more than anything. It was a relief, in a way, finally saying it out loud after months of stifling it down. It wasn’t that you hated the idea of knowing what your future was going to be—it had always seemed like a given, the foundation for a good life you’d been building since you were in high school: graduate with top marks from a good university, get a good internship and job offer straight after school so you could start earning money as soon as possible. All of that meant you needed to give up any distractions in the process, even if one of those distractions was the thing you loved most. “It’s like there was always this pressure on me, you know? From my parents, my other relatives, my friends…” It’s almost hard to admit, saying out loud for the first time. “But I guess most of it comes from myself. It always has.”

Mingyu keeps his eyes on you, nodding intently when you glance back at him periodically. But after you fall silent, finally relieving everything off your chest, he opens his mouth for the first time since he started listening. “Do your parents know? About the reasons why you’re really quitting surfing?”

You shake your head, a soft “no,” accompanying it. “I know they’d try to stop me. Try to convince me otherwise and maybe even send me that stupid surfboard a week later to make sure I still keep it.” You laugh a little at the image, surfboard crammed inside a big cardboard box taking up half the room in your shared dorm. 

“It’s not like they’ve ever put any pressure on me to do this for them or anything, and they’ve always supported me in whatever I wanted to do, but…” Your voice trails off, eyes falling to the half-eaten plate in front of you. “They gave up their dreams because of me.”

It’s strange, really. You never once thought you would one day expose the rawest part of yourself to Kim Mingyu of all people, but the words spill out before you can stop yourself. (Maybe when the night ends, you can blame this moment of vulnerability on him, on the earnestness in his eyes when he looks at you.)

“They should have completed school like they wanted to,” you say quietly. “Mom wanted to be a doctor, and Dad wanted to be the first one in his family to finish school and graduate. And they never did, because they chose to have me instead.” Your head tilts to the side, observing the diner. Hayoung types something rapidly on her phone hidden underneath the register, to which the chef sees through the kitchen window and tells her to get off her ass and start cleaning tables or something. She snaps back in a hushed voice that ‘Mingyu was having a moment…!’ which you pointedly ignore. “They’ve already given me so much love, I wanna show them that choosing to have me was the right decision. It wouldn’t be right of me to keep doing whatever I wanted without paying them back first, you know?”

So what if you had to give up surfing? That was why you went into the sea in the first place, right? To give yourself this one last thing, because you could never have it again—not really, not like this. Not that it mattered much in the end, anyway. 

The memory of the broken board floating on the surface of the waves flashes in your mind with a pang. With the surfboard gone, so is the temptation. Maybe it was for the best.

You breathe out, almost shakily, steeling yourself to look at Mingyu again. “That’s it, really. And I’m sorry. This wasn’t the kind of night I pictured having today, and I’m sure this…” you trail off, gesturing vaguely, “wasn’t the night you envisioned for yourself on a Friday night either.”

The fries are almost cold now, as you take another one to nibble on gingerly.

“No, don’t apologize,” Mingyu says, shaking his head. “It sounds like you have a lot on your plate.”

You shrug, smiling a little. “I guess you could say that.”

“But…” His next words come carefully, almost gentle, and you get the feeling he’s trying to avoid touching any nerves. “I just don’t think this is what your parents would have wanted for you.”

You must make a face, because Mingyu immediately backtracks, scrambling to rephrase his point. “Tell me if I’m overstepping, I really don’t mean to at all and I’m really sorry if I do, but...” He hesitates, slightly. “Do you remember when you saw me on the beach that one time?”

“You’d asked me to keep it a secret.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “I think I just didn’t want it to get out. It’s a small town, people talk.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Why would it matter, though?”

It was just surfing, wasn’t it?

“It’s like…” Mingyu trails off, pursing his lips in thought. “I like surfing, really. But it’s no secret who my gramps is.”

(His grandpa was the local legend, after all. Both breaking the record of the youngest to win the highly acclaimed annual surfing competition on the island and the one to hold the first place for the most years in a row, he was a pillar in the community, almost a local celebrity with how much he was admired and loved. It was how they could afford the house that they all lived in, why so many older adults looked at Mingyu with a generational fondness in their eyes, why there were so many childhood photos of Mingyu and his dad by the beach even though none of them really indulged in it as professionally as his grandpa did.)

“If people knew that I liked surfing, it would only be a matter of time before they would start expecting things from me, you know? Stuff like living up to my grandpa’s name or taking his mantle because my dad chose not to, continuing my grandpa’s legacy—it’s not what I want, and it’s not what my parents or my gramps want for me either.” Mingyu pauses. “They’ve always encouraged me to do things that I want to do, not things that I think that others want from me… and I think your parents feel the same.

“I get it, I really do,” he says, smiling a little, “but it’s not about what you feel like you owe them, or what you feel you need to do as an obligation. It’s about what you want, right? That’s what your parents would want for you too.” The bell jingles as a group of high schoolers come stumbling in, greeting Hayoung cheerfully, but it all fades to the background. “And I know it feels wrong from everything you’re used to, but it’s okay—it’s okay to have both.”

You swallow hard, your cup of water empty of everything except for the little unmelted ice left. A small part of you wants to let his words bounce off you the way you have in the past, like how you’ve done every time Chaeyoung or Seungkwan tried to offer their own well-meaning advice, but you know it’s different this time.

Because he’s not Chaeyoung or Seungkwan, and you can tell he’s not just saying empty words to lift your burdens. And maybe there are still the differences you’d felt since the moment you met him, his house still a nice place near the beach, the paint not old and peeling, his family never having to live paycheck to paycheck to make ends meet, but he understood you in the ways that mattered. There was love in his house, the pencil marks etched in his bedroom doorway echoing the marker flowers still kept on your living room walls from when you were 3.

When you look out the window, his reflection stares back at you as much as yours does, and you see it clearly now. His desire to return the love given to him, the same steady weight of home that’s been like an anchor to him, all this time. It’s in him as much as it is in you.

You wonder for the hundredth time tonight how you ended up in this position, nearly dying and then pouring out your feelings out to the person who saved you, the same boy you had sworn to yourself you would never think of fondly. But you find that in this small diner, with holes in its leather cushions and chips and scratches on the edges of your ceramic plate, yellow light warm in the beginning of a dark night, you’re almost glad it happened, if it meant it turned out like this.

“Thanks, Mingyu,” you say eventually, fingers wringing together in your lap. The AC thrums faintly in the background. “Really. That means a lot.”

He breathes a quiet sigh of relief, smiling at you. “Of course. Anytime.”

Smiling back, you finally take a bite of your sandwich left to settle into a room temperature on your plate. The lettuce and tomato has grown a little soggy from how long it’s had to sit wedged between the mayonnaise and sourdough, but you keep craving another bite after your last. You’re not sure if it’s because of how hungry you are, or if it’s the atmosphere that allows for it, but you enjoy the taste regardless.

It’s almost 11:00PM by the time you and Mingyu walk back to his car, ready to drive you back. It’s 11:20 when you arrive back at the beach parking lot, waving each other a goodbye that feels almost gentle, the way you linger by the half-open door of his truck before hopping out.

It’s 11:23 when you make your way back to your car, head resting on the steering wheel in the silence, that it finally clicks. A late night dinner. A heart-to-heart. You even saw his goddamn childhood photos.

Did you… just become friends with Kim Mingyu?

Before you fall asleep that night, you make a mental checklist of everything you need to do the next day.

Apologize to your parents. (They probably had to do damage control after you left, and your mom would most likely have to make snippy retorts to your aunt’s passive remarks for the rest of the year.)

Head to the beach to give back Mingyu’s shirt, freshly washed.

(VERY IMPORTANT!) Make sure everything that happened last night is kept tightly under wraps, lest your well-meaning (read: gossipy and overly interested) friends find out.

Only, when you wake up the next day, your carefully curated plans crumble in front of your eyes. Checking your phone for the first time since last night, you find it flooded with messages from Chaeyoung, Seungkwan, the group chat with Chaeyoung and Seungkwan—frantic, all caps, a few missed calls to add onto it. Scrolling further down the notifications, you also find a single desperate email that Seungkwan sent to you at 8AM. (Subject: WAKE UP!!!!)

Squinting, you open up the messages to see what the world-ending crisis plagued them this time. Two weeks ago, it was Chaeyoung’s Hinge match she’d ghosted after the first date spotted at Target, and the week before that, Seungkwan’s favorite breakfast place ran out of almond butter. Needless to say, the panic doesn’t really set in until you make out the letters M I N G Y U in the plethora of texts and your stomach drops.

Chaeyoung: Y/N EXPLAIN Chaeyoung: WHY WERE YOU HANGING OUT WITH MINGYU LAST NIGHT?!?!

Your eyes widen, rapidly sending a text back.

You: ??? who told you? Chaeyoung: YOU’RE AWAKE Chaeyoung: FINALLY Chaeyoung: I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU WERE HIDING THIS THE ENTIRE TIME Chaeyoung: [sent photo]  [Seungkwan laughed at image] You: CHANGE MY CONTACT NAME BACK? Chaeyoung: BUT YOU’RE THE RIZZARD OF OZ…. [Seungkwan loved the message] 

Groaning, you dislike the message with a fervor and try to move onto another topic. 

You: ok can someone please tell me how you know about mingyu i just woke up and i’m not backreading Seungkwan: my cousin works at the diner Seungkwan: asked me why i didn’t tell her about mingyu’s cute new gf Seungkwan: lol

There’s a muffled scream that only your pillow ever hears. So much for taking this secret with you to the grave. Actually, maybe it wouldn’t be too late to start your funeral preparations now.

Chaeyoung: ok well. obviously we need to talk about this. Chaeyoung: secret hideout meeting in an hour!!!

And without any further argument,  you know that your fate is sealed, the final nail in the coffin. You can’t even find the energy to retort back how it’s not a ‘secret hideout meeting’ if all she was doing was barging in before your and Seungkwan’s scheduled work shift.

But regardless, here you were, an hour later, back at the shave ice shop sat at the tables with Seungkwan and Chaeyoung staring intently at you.

“So,” Seungkwan starts out, ignoring the slightly crazed look in Chaeyoung’s eyes as she nearly vibrates out of her seat. “Spill.”

You don’t even try to fight the headache incoming, pressing your fingers to your temples instead to appease the ache. “There’s not even anything to spill. I went out surfing last night, I let my guard down and I almost drowned.”

“What?” Seungkwan blurts out, his and Chaeyoung’s eyes widen simultaneously. “Are you okay? What happened?”

You wave them off with a tired smile. “I’m fine, I promise. Mingyu was there to save me.”

They both look at you with poorly concealed worry, running over your body to make sure nothing was amiss. But then, Chaeyoung interjects lightly. “So you fell in love because he was your knight in shining armor?”

Your face falls straight into your hands. “For the last time, we’re just friends! There’s nothing going between me and Min…”

When you raise your head to make eye contact with both of them to hammer in your point, the bell jingles as the door to the shop opens, and you meet eyes with the man himself.

“...Gyu,” you finish lamely. Speak of the devil.

Mingyu grins and waves. “Hey!”

Chaeyoung and Seungkwan whip their head from Mingyu to you and then back again, zeroing in on him. It suddenly feels like you’ve been dropped in a shark tank and—from the way the intensity of their gaze amplifies as they snap back to you—they’ve caught the scent of blood.  Wading through it, you smile and wave back casually, ignoring your friends mindlessly tapping on their phones, pretending that their ears weren’t twice as big trying to listen.

“Hey, Mingyu. I don’t know if you saw,” you jab your thumb at the window, “but we’re not open right now.”

He tilts his head, frowning. “Oh, really? That’s not what the sign out front says, though?” Mingyu points to the same window, the one that hangs a sign that says in big red letters, ‘CLOSED!’. You frown, brain whirring. If your side of the sign says ‘closed,’ that means that from the outside, it says…

“Seungkwan,” you call dryly.

Seungkwan shoots his head up, dropping his phone on the table. “Haha! Sorry, man!” he says, running past Mingyu to flip the sign over properly. “We’re closed!”

“But I thought—”

“We’ll be open in an hour,” Seungkwan interjects, flashing him a big thumbs up. “See you then!”

Mingyu looks at him quizzically, furrowing his brows in confusion, before responding with a slow, “Okay… See you in an hour then?”

All three of you nod at him, waving goodbye. Mingyu turns around to exit the store, and you almost breathe a sigh of relief. Sure, him appearing right as you were trying to convince your friends there was nothing going on between the two of you would put some extra work on your plate, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle. You’re just grateful that Mingyu didn’t act overly friendly and mention anything else that happened last night that would carry any innuendos, like—

“Oh, Y/N,” Mingyu says, right as the door opens. “About my shirt, don’t worry about it. You can just give it back to me whenever, it’s all good.”

Like that.

The door shuts with a short jingle. Chaeyoung and Seungkwan slowly turn back to you, mouths gaping. You feel like you just witnessed a bomb dropping in the distance and you’re left with the debris flying straight towards you.

You blink.  “I can explain.”

Seungkwan whips out his phone and immediately starts typing something in the search bar, while Chaeyoung leans over, hitting him enthusiastically on the arm, whispering loudly and rapidly. “Make sure to order the cake with custom frosting on the top! I’m thinking maybe in fancy cursive, ‘NOT BITCHLE—‘”

“Stop it!”

Needless to say, you return Mingyu’s shirt as soon as possible the next morning.

If this were Chaeyoung or even Seungkwan, you would have just thrown it in the wash with everything else at the end of the week, but this was different. The chaos that had happened after Mingyu left the shop and leftover cake in the back of your fridge (half-eaten, icing still managing to spell out the letters ‘N—T B —CHLE—’) had haunted you enough to be proof of that, so you cut your losses and piled in a premature load with scraps of other clothing around the house. If, by the end of the day, you had this wretched shirt off your hands, then it would be worth it.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself as you make your way to the beach. The absence of the surfboard atop your car was something you were still trying to get used to, but you try to tell yourself that it’ll get better eventually. That one day, maybe you’ll walk by your car and not have your eyes linger at that empty spot at all.

When you finally get to the beach, Mingyu is sitting at his regular spot at the lifeguard tower: binoculars hanging from his neck, sunglasses resting on his head, shirtless—just like always. Everything is normal. Nothing has to be weird.

“Mingyu!” you call, waving. He glances down somewhere in your general direction before his gaze finally catches on you, grinning the second he realizes who it is.

“Hey!” he greets brightly. “What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing much, just—” you take his neatly folded shirt out of your bag, holding it up so he can see. “I wanted to return this.”

Mingyu’s mouth opens slightly, a silent ‘ah’ forming on his lips before he waves you over cheerily. “Come on up!”

Instinctively, your response is to politely but firmly decline. After all, the last time you were up in that tower wasn’t exactly something you remembered fondly, and you didn’t want to be more of a bother to Mingyu than you already have been. You couldn’t stay for long anyway, so you try to deflect subtly.

“Oh, are you sure? I can just leave it—”

“Y/N…”

Even from a distance, his earnest concern in the gentle insistence makes it hard to say no. So you sigh, admit defeat once again, and respond with a single, “Okay.”

It’s how you find yourself up in that lifeguard tower once again, stepping cautiously past the bags lined against the wall, filled to the brim with miscellaneous supplies. Now that it was brighter, you could see what was in the tower better: the Hydroflask sporting a few dents on his desk next to a walkie talkie station and landline, an old safety protocol manual with its age shown in the sun-bleached pages, a big megaphone laying near the edge of it.

The place looked different in the daylight, none of the quiet intimacy that you had felt when you were here last. The sounds of waves crashing on the shore and families playing on the beach ring out in the air—children laughing as they chase each other around, the crackling of the charcoal as a family grills meat by the picnic tables further down. That night, it had just been you and Mingyu and the weight of everything you still couldn’t face, but now in the sun, the cold sea-chilled wind was now the warmth of daylight on your skin, all the things you had taken for granted given to you again.

“Thanks for the shirt,” you say, holding it out in front of you. “I feel like I didn’t say it enough when you let me borrow it.”

Mingyu laughs, running a hand through his hair while his other hand takes the shirt from you. “Seriously, it was no problem. You could have kept it if you wanted, you know.” 

He says it jokingly, but the implication of the words has your heart stuttering for a split second before you breathe out a slight laugh, pulling your hand back. “No, I’m good. But thanks.”

“What, you weren’t a fan?” Mingyu places the shirt inside his bag, careful not to mess up the folding you’d already done. “And here I thought everyone would have been honored to show off that they were ‘Raised On Rice’...”

You give him a lighthearted chuckle. “You know, I’m afraid I can’t say the same.”

Mingyu turns his head and hits his chest once, with feeling, exaggerated dismay written all over his face. “That hurt. Right here.”

You follow the motion, about to roll your eyes at his dramatics, but all of a sudden your eyes are lingering a little too long to be normal. Or appropriate.

“As much as I would love to agree,” you blink, focusing mostly on dragging your gaze above his bare chest (his eyes are up there), “I really think you’re the only one that could pull that off.”

MIngyu tilts his head, blinking, before the corners of his lips turn up slightly. “I dunno, I kinda liked you in it though.”

What the hell. What the actual hell.

“Do you say that to a lot of girls?” you manage, still trying to navigate your way back to normalcy. You were not doing this with Kim Mingyu, of all people.

Mingyu shrugs. “You’re the only one I’ve ever given my shirt to.”

You were so not doing this with Kim Mingyu! Except you are, and you have been this entire time, and you can practically hear the echoes of Chaeyoung cackling as the devil on your shoulder.

“Okay, well,” you grind out, praying desperately to swat away any memories surfacing where you’d heard other girls squeal about his glistening, defined muscles, or the swim shorts that sometimes rode a little too low on his waist, or the—Chaeyoung’s voice starts to meld in with your thoughts—idea of him having to perform CPR and giving mouth-to-mouth— “I have a shift soon, so I have to go, but I’ll see you around. Thanks again for the shirt.”

“Hey.” 

You stop mid-swivel and turn around slowly, peering up at him. His eyes shine too sincere for you to look away. “I’m serious, it was no big deal. I’d do it any time.”

Not just the shirt, you know he means, but everything that happened that night. The invitation to a safe place, the warmth of the diner, the way he had sat there with his hands cupped ready to catch everything you had spilled out. Heart lodging in your throat, you swallow hard before you respond. “Yeah, um. Same for you—if you ever wanna talk about anything.” 

“Of course,” he grins, the ‘thank you’ you’d almost tacked on at the end of your sentence understood without being said. “What are friends for?”

Before that night, you might have just brushed it off with a polite and restrained agreement and never thought about it again. ‘Friend’ had always been a loose word—maybe ‘former classmate’ or ‘acquaintance’ would have been better fitting to describe what Mingyu was to you. But now, as you stand in the middle of the lifeguard tower, the subtle scent of smoke from the family barbeque floating in the air, a mesh of different music from various speakers playing quietly alongside the chatter of ordinary beachgoers, you’re sincere when you answer.

“Right,” you smile back at him, warm. “Friends.”

You turn the knob to your front door carefully, entering your house with small steps. The lights to the living room were off, the kitchen was quiet, two pairs of shoes were still missing from the rack at the front.

Your parents weren’t home yet. You almost let out an audible sigh of relief.

It’s not as if you wanted to avoid them, but ever since the party, there was something a little awkward hanging in the air that none of you knew how to navigate. They didn’t want to be the ones to bring it up first, and you could never find the right time to talk about it—your parents both working long hours during the day and coming back home with aches in their necks and a plethora of new things to stress over. You just didn’t want to add onto the load of things they already had to think about.

Your mom had tried approaching you the night you came back, gently asking where you had gone and where your board was, but there wasn’t much to tell her, really. You’d settled for a short, ‘I went surfing and it broke,’ and left it at that; they already knew you were quitting, it wasn’t like telling them why your board broke was going to make any difference.

Setting your bag down on the couch, you shuffle into the kitchen in your house slippers and start prepping for dinner. If your parents weren’t home by now, that meant they would both be out until late evening today, which also meant it was better to just make something small for yourself for a meal. 

(The more you think about it, the better it sounds to just leave that night in the past. It would all smooth over soon enough, and you’re certain things will fall back to their normal rhythm well before you have to leave. Keeping it bottled up neatly inside of yourself, it was cleanest this way. It was fine—it would all be fine.)

But after you finish rifling through your fridge for ingredients, after you shut the door with a resonating snap, the old photo stuck to the front of the door stares back at you. Your dad had insisted on taking it in commemoration of your first time surfing—you, gap-toothed and smiling brightly in the middle, and your parents, grinning proudly with their arms wrapped around you.

And no matter how you try to convince yourself that you’ve long grown past that little girl in the photo, you know that she’ll always be a part of you, especially to your parents. The people who would gently blow on your barely-bleeding scratches and scrapes, the ones that would always be ready with a towel and your favorite snack every time you would come back to shore, dripping wet with fists clenched and tears brimming in your eyes. They would always be there with open arms, waiting until you were ready to come to them.

At the very least, you wanted to be a daughter that wouldn’t misplace their trust, someone who wouldn’t keep them waiting forever. You owe that to them; you owe that to the little girl you used to be. It’s why you needed to tell them everything.

(Though, that was easier said than done. If it were really that simple, you would have done it by now.)

You know if you try stalling and plan for the next day then you’ll keep stalling and never actually do it, so when your parents come home that night, you attempt to rip the bandaid off all at once. You ask them if they have time to talk and that you need to tell them something, but when they immediately agree, you worry far too late that you’d ripped that bandaid off before you were ready.

“So, that cake in the fridge,” you start, wringing your hands together. The granite counter is cool against your skin as you lean against it, grounding you in the middle of the kitchen.  “It was pretty good, right? Chaeyoung and Seungkwan said that it was the best they could find at the grocery store, especially since it was so last minute.”

Your parents give each other a confused look before nodding slowly, letting you ease into it without rushing. You’re not even sure where to go from here, if you should tell them only the necessary parts of the truth or lay down everything insignificant as well.  Maybe if you just kept talking, it would come out eventually.

“It’s funny actually,” you continue, palms clammy. “The only reason they got me that cake is because they think I’m dating Mingyu—I’m not, don’t worry! They’re just trying to be funny about it because he and I have gotten close recently. I mean I get why, I’ve been going on and on about how Mingyu working at the beach has made it a lot busier recently and for some reason I just kept seeing him around this summer and—”

“Y/N.”

Your breath catches. “Yeah, Mom?”

“Is this…about the party last week?” Your mom begins to take a step forward, but it doesn’t become more than a slight shuffle of her feet. “Because if it is, I’m the first person to agree that your aunt went too far last time! Don’t worry, we made sure to give her a good talking to after you left.” 

She nudges your dad lightly to back her up, but at his startled nod, your mom shoots him a dirty look before continuing. “Really, you would expect at her big age she’d know what’s appropriate to say and what isn’t! Your uncles came to your defense too, so everyone’s on your side! We made sure to chew her out real good, so you don’t need to talk about it anymore if you don’t want to—”

“No,” you interject. “No, it’s not that it’s…”

You could have taken the offer—and maybe a few days ago, you would have. Let your parents brush off whatever happened that night and leave it in the past, allow it to wash away into the tide with the waves. But they deserved to know; it was now or never.

“That night, I went to the beach.” Your words come out static. “And I tried surfing, and I wiped out so badly that my board broke because I wasn't thinking straight when I swam out.”

Your mom opens her mouth to say something with furrowed brows, probably something along the lines of ‘You should have told me if it was that serious,’ but your dad beats her to the chase. “Why did you go out then?” He has an instinctual scolding born from worry on the tip of his tongue; it was one of the very first things he’d ever taught you, before you even got on the board. “You’re not a child anymore, you should have known better—”

“I know.” Your fists clench at your side as you try to fight the shame that threatens to boil back up inside of you. “I know, it was stupid and a rookie mistake and something I shouldn’t have ever done, but—” Your voice breaks off. “I told you I wasn’t going to surf anymore.”

There’s a confused silence, one where you can’t gather the courage to look at their faces. “It’s not because I didn’t want to keep surfing, it’s because I felt like I had to stop.”

“Y/N, what—”

“I—” you interrupt. You have to get it out or you’ll never get a chance like this again, clumsy as your words may be. “I just—I don’t—” 

Pressure builds at the back of your nose and eyes as you try to fumble your way around the words, vision blurring. “I just wanted to make you proud.”

Your gaze locks onto the kitchen floor, nails digging into your palms. “I’ve only ever wanted to make you proud, and I know raising me wasn’t easy, and I wanted to pay you back for everything you’ve ever done for me. And I figured—” God, it sounds so stupid when you say it out loud, but how else could you say it? This was how you’d felt for the past four years. “If I gave up surfing to only focus on school, then maybe—I don’t know—” (fuck it, you’ve already made it this far.) “Then maybe all your sacrifices wouldn’t be wasted on me.”

There’s a beat of silence, one where your mom takes in a shaky gasp of air and your dad goes quiet, previous anger already forgotten. For a moment, it all feels like a mistake, something you can never take back. 

(But then again, it was better this way, wasn’t it? Like it was a necessary kind of hurting—to cleanse the wound, to feel it once and then let it heal for good.)

“You know we’d be proud of you no matter what you do,” your dad says, finally. He places a hand on your mom’s shoulder, to which your mom nods and touches her hand to his. “As long as you’re happy, that’s all we could ask for.”

The night in the diner comes back to you in brief flashes, Mingyu’s words echoing in your head. At the time, you had let it wash over you, a small warmth you’d allowed yourself to indulge briefly in the night, but it sinks in now, pooling in the pit of your stomach. He was right—of course he was. 

“Besides,” your dad says, joking, “if you really quit, then the real waste would have been all that money we put into surfing lessons when you were a kid—ow!”

Your mom jabs him sharply with her elbow, hissing out his name in a low voice. “What he means to say,” she intervenes, taking a step forward, “is that we would have done it all over again, because it was all for you.” Warm hands cup your face as your mom slowly raises your head to meet her eyes. She gives you a watery smile, brushing away the wetness on your cheeks with her thumbs. “We’re your parents, Y/N. Nothing could ever be a waste.”

Your dad places a hand on your shoulder, and you shift your blurry eyes onto him. He gives you a warm smile and a slight squeeze, and gestures his head to the door. “Come with me.”

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” he starts, taking out the flashlight in the drawer. Walking towards the backdoor, he twists the knob and waits for you and your mom to follow, turning on the bright beam of the flashlight as he leads the way outside.

Your mom nods beside you, her hand in yours. You furrow your brows in confusion, realizing they were leading you towards the backyard shed. “We had a whole plan, you know! Complete with balloons and confetti and even a nice bow to stick on top of it.”

Unlocking the shed, your dad holds the door wide open, motioning for you to enter first. “We were hoping to give this to you at the grad party, but then after everything happened, but well…” Your mom ushers you in. “That party didn’t exactly go as planned either.”

“What are you guys talking about—”

The flashlight flicks onto the wall of the shed, and your question is cut short at the sight: a surfboard, brand new and unwaxed, its surface smooth and shining.

“When…” you gape. “When did you—“

“Like we said,” your dad answers, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, “we bought it as a graduation gift. Before everything went down, obviously.”

“And,” your mom continues gently, “if you still decide to leave surfing behind when you go to school, we can always just keep it safe here—for when you come back.”

You wonder if it was always this simple, if you’d agonized over your dreams and your future and your own happiness for so long without even considering that you didn’t need to let one or the other go. All the pieces you’ve been desperately trying to not let spill out of your hands finally click into place, gently, and the realization makes you feel so silly you almost want to start crying again.

“Okay,” you sniffle, pulling both your parents into a hug. It’s almost like you were that little girl again, sand stuck to your damp skin, sea water dripping from your hair, running into her parents’ arms after a long day. Stable, safe, warm. “I’ll keep surfing.”

The rest of summer passes by in a blink of an eye.

After everything that happened the past month, you were grateful that the rest of your days at home were spent peacefully—afternoons working with Seungkwan at the shave ice shop, sleepovers with Chaeyoung where she tries to fit in a whole week’s worth activities into a single weekend, nights spent with your parents in the living room, T.V. playing in the background as you indulge in what little Family Movie Nights you have left. 

It falls into a smooth rhythm, one you come to expect every single day, the same rhythm that has you up in the early morning, sitting on your board as the ocean waves sway you gently atop the water. The sky washes a pale blue, a band of orange barely visible over the edge of the horizon. It’s a familiar sight, one you’ve become accustomed to ever since you’ve made it a habit to come to the beach every Saturday morning.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Hm?” You turn, tilting your head at the boy on the board next to you. “Nothing, really—why?”

Mingyu points at the dip between his brows, furrowing it in imitation. “You get this look on your face when you’re thinking too hard.”

“I do not!”

“Seungkwan and Chaeyoung can attest!”

You reach down to splash him with water, rolling your eyes at the yelp he lets out at the sudden attack. “Don’t even start with them.”

“I’m not even—” Mingyu starts, but shrinks away at the threatening look in your eye as you dip your hand into the water again. “You were thinking about something though.”

Sighing, you retract your hand. Mingyu visibly relaxes. “Just thinking about all the things I still have to pack when I get home.”

“You’re leaving tomorrow morning, right?”

You hum, nodding your head. “It’s an early flight and we have to get everything ready by tonight, so this is my last fun stop of the day.”

Mingyu leans back, water sloshing with the shift in weight. “You’re not hanging out with Seungkwan or Chaeyoung later?”

“I already saw them yesterday,” you reply, exasperated. “They tried getting me another cake but I put them on a cake ban because of what happened last time.”

He looks at you quizzically. “What happened last time?”

“That’s not important.” Clearing your throat, you redirect the conversation. “Anyway, why do you ask?”

“Seungkwan told me they wanted to throw one last surprise goodbye party.” Mingyu pauses. “Well, I guess it’s not really a surprise anymore.”

“Seungkwan just wants another excuse to throw a party where he can smuggle in alcohol,” you point out. “Besides, they’ve thrown me like, five this summer.”

Mingyu laughs. “Come on, I’m sure that’s not all there is to it. You know how he is, maybe he just wants to make the most of your time left and give you a goodbye you’ll remember. He’s really proud of you—you know that.”

After all, you were the only one leaving, really. Seungkwan was attending the local college on top of helping out at the family business on weekends, and even though Chaeyoung had decided to move back to another island, she was still attending the state school there. Seungkwan had induced quite the ruckus when you’d opened the acceptance letters together, complaining about how you were both leaving him to this boring town with his little shave ice shop as only companion. (And then a few weeks later, he’d given you one of the pineapple plushies they had on display at shop so that you could bring it to California without missing home.)

Your shoulders slump in defeat, half-heartedly kicking your leg under the water. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

“But the alcohol is probably a big reason too,” Mingyu adds.

You point at him triumphantly. “See!”

The tide picks up slightly, bobbing both of you gently with the water. A couple miles away, the waves crash on the rocks near the cliffs, just close enough to hear the ebb and flow of water on the shore. This far out, there was only you and Mingyu.

“After you leave,” Mingyu says, cutting through the low roar of the ocean, “that means we can’t do this anymore.” His voice carries an underlying hesitancy that you haven’t heard since that night of the diner, and instinctually, you go to deflect.

“You make it sound like I’m leaving forever,” you tease gently, but you know what he’s trying to say. It wouldn’t be the same.

(After you had received your new board, you’d gone almost immediately to tell Mingyu the good news. In turn, he’d invited you to come surfing whenever there was a high tide at sunrise on Saturdays, something that eventually settled into just sunrises on Saturday instead, regardless of the tide. It was why you were out in the water this morning, even without the waves—a habit that still clings strong.)

Mingyu runs a hand through his hair, droplets falling as he shakes his head a little. “Do you even know how many Saturdays are between now and when you come back? It’ll just be me during sunrises again… all alone…”

“You’re starting to sound just like Seungkwan.”

Mingyu counters with a single sad look resembling a sopping wet dog. You roll your eyes.

“Well, what are you going to do?” you ask. “You have a whole year before you go back to school.”

Mingyu contemplates, humming. “I’ve been thinking about traveling—see the world a little before I come back here and decide on anything else.”

You tilt your head, light glistening off the surface of the water. “Really? And go where?”

He shrugs. “Who knows? Australia, Korea, maybe I’ll  even go backpacking through Europe.” Mingyu stops, a teasing look in his eye. “Why, is there any place you want me to go?”

Your breath hitches, clamping your mouth shut. “I mean, not really, I was just—you know. I just thought…”

Mingyu props a finger to his chin and nods sagely, pondering far too long to be sincere. “I did hear California was nice… But it all depends.”

You eye him warily. “On what?”

“If you’ll let me.”

Fighting the initial swoop of your stomach, you stop and try to think realistically. Mingyu would be the same no matter where he went, and when you imagine what it would be like if Mingyu brought his earnest local boy charm over to the mainland, your nose wrinkles. It was already bad enough on your small island, but the image of his crowd of fangirls multiplying and spreading even more gossip about the new ‘hottie in town’ makes your head hurt just thinking about it. Maybe it was best if you waited until Christmas to go sunrise surfing with him again.

Mingyu thumbs the space between your brows and furrows his to mirror you, and you slap a hand over your forehead. “Oh, so you don’t want me in California?”

Your face burns, chest flushing as you whip your head back. “You are so annoying!”

You move to splash him again, but when you meet his eyes, expectation glows so sincere it makes you stop. Briefly, you wonder if the entire reason Mingyu presses so hard is because he knows it would be the only way for you to be honest about your feelings, especially concerning him. (On the other hand, he could just enjoy watching you squirm. It was probably a little bit of both. So annoying.)

“Well,” you mumble, turning your head to the other side. You try to test the words on your tongue, but it all comes out sickeningly sentimental and sweet no matter how you phrase it. “It wouldn’t be the worst. If you came to visit.”

Mingyu nudges you so suddenly you almost topple off your board, water splashing as you flounder to regain your balance. He wears a dopey grin, even as he grabs onto your arm again to stabilize you—cheeky and victorious, like he just caught the biggest catch of the day. “You should have just said so from the beginning!”

“For the surf!” you sputter, still recovering. Maybe a small dunk in the water would cool you off quicker. “I meant for the surf, don’t be ridiculous—”

Mingyu’s grin gets even wider, and even as you fumble for more excuses, you know nothing you can say would really help. He’d latched onto the truth, and no amount of water you tried to drown it under would ever make him let go. 

“So I’ll see you again?” Mingyu asks, and even with the teasing glint still left in his eyes, the sunlight in his eyes sparkles earnest.

There wasn’t much out here this early in the day, just the ocean and each other—and despite the embarrassment that floods your body, maybe you didn’t mind it all that much. The way it was just you and him.

“For the surf,” you repeat, tacking it on at the end of your nod, but the smile Mingyu gives you knows otherwise. Yeah. You didn’t mind that at all.

It’s the small, unexpected things you’ll miss when you leave: the sun-sated and salty skin, not just the paddle out to the open ocean and riding the wave, but the rush that comes from the return to shore, wanting to do it all again. A place you’ll always belong, no matter where you go. But really—

(The sunrise colors the sky in a peach-gold glow, and you follow the scattering of light across the water to meet Mingyu at the center of it all. There’s a fondness you can’t describe, but a feeling you understand all the same; the way the sight of the horizon and the sky and the ocean means love, the way it means home.)

—you think you’ll miss Kim Mingyu the most.

[saber-slutt]

i told you i'd see you later, one way or another (kinktober day 1)

"Who is this diva?" you ask. it's me. kinktober began and i rose from my summer hibernation. i'm still embarrassed bc i revealed i was gonna write for kinktober in my uni's music committee. henry if you ever see this i am so sorry you had to hear that. henry is a cutie patootie i love him so much. he's like a journalistic writer. anyways, hello! i'm gonna take my fanfic writing seriously again. i'll be posting on ao3 too if that's more convenient. same titles as here, under the name mostlyajoke. I hope this one's up to par guys, sorry if it's not, im a bit rusty. any comments, criticisms, etc., are encouraged, so i can improve and also i love to yap. anyways day 1 for me on october 13th lets goooo

headers from djarrex

Day 1 - Wet Dream

He laughed your name breathily as he wished you a goodnight. Anakin was always a gentleman, walking you back to your quarters if he happened to pass by the créche at night, which had been happening more and more. you worked in the Jedi Corps at the temple, helping tend to the younglings. Yes, you loved the job because you truly enjoyed teaching and playing with the young Jedi, despite the war picking up in the galaxy, but also because you got to see him. Him. He made time to visit the younglings, never too tired to tell a story or practice basic force maneuvers with them. Anakin was especially never too busy to talk to you, to tell you you looked pretty today or to ask how your day had been. Maker, he was beautiful, with curly brown locs and piercing green eyes, eyes that would scan you when you told him anything, so you could tell he was listening intently. You loved these interactions, though you knew he was just being polite. After all, Anakin Skywalker was a Jedi, if not one of the most well-known or powerful by this point. He’d never have serious interest in you, no, he would never break the Jedi code.

         Still, when he walked you to your room, a part of you always longed that he would ask to take you somewhere, somewhere private, just for the two of you. Or that he would give you communication to his comm. But he didn’t, and as you would close the door behind you, you’d try to shake your schoolgirl crush from your thoughts. Today seemed to be another one of these days, or so you had thought, until as he turned down the hallway from your door, you heard him say, “I’ll be seeing you soon, beautiful.”

         You floated through the rest of the night, his words replaying incessantly. They were so bold, furthering you from the idea that he was just being polite. Still, you tried to remember that at the end of the day, he was a Jedi, and you were not. Even if you were, you two could never be together. But his words were on repeat, what did he mean “soon?” Your thoughts did not settle as you get ready for bed, and still did not cease as you tossed and turned into the early morning.

        “Mmm fuck…fuck,” you whimpered out, clawing at brown locs as a tongue drilled into your pussy. The man buried between your legs pulled back for a second to grunt a small “language” before dipping back down to lick hard and flat strips through your folds. “C-can’t help it, feels so good.”

         You could practically feel his smirk against your slit, his tongue only gaining more speed. His tongue toyed with your clit and your hole, neglecting neither. A sheen sweat overlaid you. You had never felt so warm, so comforted, even though you knew you were dreaming, it had never felt so real or vivid. Just then, a sharp sensation was felt between your legs, but then, euphoria. The man was sucking on your clit, hard. You wanted to see him, to see the man invading your dreams. You whimpered again, lazily stroking his hair. He got the hint and raised himself up to look into your eyes, and to flash you a smile.

         Anakin.

        “You’re beautiful” he whispered, lowering himself back down to your pussy, throwing your legs over his shoulders, “and sweet. And not just your personality too.”

         You moaned. In the back of your mind, you knew you were dreaming, but Maker, it felt so real. Anakin continued his attack on you, licking and sucking both your clit and entrance. With each passing minute, he tightened his grip on your hips, leaving bruises. His nose bumped into your clit, his long, curly hair tickled your thighs, and the wet sounds echoing in the room were filthy. You were euphoric. The man you loved was pleasing you, solely focused on you, like he cared for nothing else in the world. You were nearing your peak of pleasure, whines becoming sharper, and you gripped his hair again. He went harder on your pussy. His name began to flow from your mouth.

         “Anakin, please, don’t stop, oh maker, Anakin,”

         “Shhh, let it happen,” 

          Your back arched and you let out a guttural moan, raspy. Your pussy spasmed as pleasure spread throughout your stomach and beyond. Anakin slowed his assault, letting you ride out your high, but he still made sure to lick up every drop. He pulled back to look at you when you made noises indicating overstimulation. His lips were shiny with your juices before he licked them. You were breathless and blushing, wishing to form words but too sated to try. He crawled forward to kiss you deeply, comfortingly. Anakin fell to lay on his side, pulling you to his chest.

         “Good, huh?” Anakin asked.

         You nodded in response.

         “Sad it’s not real?”

         You nodded again.

         “Oh, poor baby. Don’t you remember me saying that I’d see you later?”

         You were still.

         “You’ll wake up in a minute. And I’ll be outside your door. Then you’ll let me in your room, and we’ll talk, and laugh, and I’ll flirt with you all night long. You understand?”

         “Yes.”

          You sat up like you were electrocuted. You rubbed your face with your hands. Maker, what a mean dream to have. It was like the universe was teasing you, giving you a taste of heaven just to take it away. And then it wanted you to believe there was a chance it could be real. There was no way.

         But it never hurts to check.

         You felt like a loser standing up; surely some life force out there was laughing at your naivety. Shame filled you as you made your way towards your door. It was overflowing when you put your ear to the door and heard nothing. But for one last hurrah, you pressed the button on the wall that would open the door.

         You were met with Anakin.

[bambi-kinos]

I just came across your analysis of However Absurd and thought it was lovely. I'm curious, as someone who thinks John and Paul had some kind of romantic or sexual relationship, what is your take on The Lovers That Never Were? Is he using the word "lovers" to mean "partners"? I have always interpreted it to mean that Paul knows there was something there but it never happened. Every time I start to be convinced that they were together in some way I think of this song and the devastating way Paul sings it in the demo and the heartbreaking fact that he still felt it that intensely 13 years after John's death.

Oh wow thank you! The server had a lot of fun discussing that, if it's good it's because I had a little help from my friends heheh (─‿‿─) ♡

I ended up writing a massive novel in response to all this so I hope you enjoy reading it heheh. For server members, I've pulled some quotes from my previous Discord essays on this topic so you'll see some stuff that you've read.

tl;dr - I don't think "The Lovers That Never Were" contradicts the secret relationship theory at all! I think it compliments it very well actually.

In order to get into All That, I will outline how I perceive what their relationship was built on and how they reacted to it. I should note that I don't consider this definitive. It's important to remember that we all have unique interpretations of John and Paul because of our experiences and our personal POVs. There is no single answer until Paul decides to tell us what happened and/or Sean publishes John's diaries (written and audio). Until that happens, we are all forced to look at the same material and draw our own conclusions which will naturally be shaped through our personal perceptions. Some of us are older and are much closer to the original culture that John and Paul were raised in; some of us are younger and grew up in a much more LGBT+ positive environment. This naturally has an impact on how we interpret John and Paul's relationship.

I say this because I know my POV on John and Paul is a bit different from everyone else's. I'm a historian by training but part of being a historian is the understanding that you will never fully understand the events as they happened because your personal viewpoint and inherent bias is simply too strong. But that's okay because this is a part of humanity that we all share, yeah? With that understanding LET'S GO!

Paul My view on Paul is that he's always understood that he's different from other men. I doubt he could put a name to it until very recently. Paul has synesthesia, he's bisexual, he connects to music in a savant-like way, he's neurodivergent which is why he takes criticism so hard, and all of that would still be true even if he didn't have left over emotional issues from his mother dying the way she did + his fraught relationship with his father.

Keep in mind that circumstantial evidence points to the idea that Paul orchestrated the meeting at the fête! He realized he had a mutual friend with John in Ivan (who is to say that he did not meet Ivan at a QM performance and had that mental realization there?) He went through Hot Girl Summer before and after the fête, wanting to be fucking fit so that he wasn't embarrassed to meet John! I did the same thing when I had a crush as a teenager!

So with all that in mind, imagine this: you're Paul McCartney. You met John Lennon barely a year after Mary died. You turned 15 on June 18th, 1957 and met John at the fête on July 6, 1957. At some undetermined point before this garden party you saw a beautiful boy on the bus and began riding it obsessively hoping the Teddie boy would get on it. You followed him to the chippie and stood in line behind him…allegedly because you thought "oh wow he looks so cool." Marky Mark thinks (and I agree) that you may have even followed John to at least one Quarry Man show before the fête. Is this 'normal' behavior? Or is this the unhinged behavior of a teenager with a massive crush? The kind that comes about when you see a cute boy with red hair, and red is the color you associate with happiness, and then you find out that he plays guitar just like you and you follow him around until you see one of his performances and he's so good he knocks you back and then someone says "hi Paul, I didn't know you liked music!" behind you. And you realize that it's your friend and that you can meet the boy you have a crush on through this friend. You just need to lose weight and grow your hair out first.

When did Paul first see John, anyway? Before he turned 15 I'd wager.

I submit the idea that Paul has been in love John Lennon for his entire life. It will be 67 years of love when this July 6th rolls around. John was making a name for himself, he was known around town as "that Lennon." A minor celebrity like we’ve all had in our hometowns. Paul loved music. Before the internet you would go to the town square to hear a band.

Paul did that. Saw John. Pursued him with intent. When John went to Gambier Terrace to be with Stuart, Paul made a nuisance of himself showing up at their parties and playing the proto-version of "Michelle" in front of the girls…and John.

I love you, I love you, I love you That's all I want to say Until I find a way I will say the only words I know that You'll understand

I don't think that a 15 year old Paul McCartney would explicitly label his feelings for John as 'love' or a 'crush' but I do think that's what happened. When you're a teenager, a crush can express itself in many different ways. I used to have a big crush on a girl who was a volleyball player at my junior high school…that expressed itself as intense admiration. I even told one of my friends that I thought she was 'really cool.' It wasn't until later that I realized that I had a crush on her.

But I think that Paul has always known that he's 'different' and that he wasn't like other boys while growing up. Part of his touchiness about his looks comes from being bullied but I also think that he's a lot more self aware than he pretends to be. I think he realized relatively fast how he felt about John (maybe once John picked up with Stuart and Cynthia at art college.) I think he carried that with him for years hence his anguished response to being jilted in Hamburg and how furious he was at John for running off to Spain with Brian. He didn't realize it immediately but once it sticks to you then it fucking sticks. I think that Paul has done a lot internal wrestling with being a bisexual man and what that means for him and that he has been wrestling with it for decades. I think he was fully in the grip of that wrestling as he and John's friendship began growing and Paul realized what was happening to him. He does enjoy women but I also think that he felt it was necessary to pursue them heavily as a young man to camouflage himself.

I don't think a day has gone by since 1957 where Paul has not known what he was. What exactly that means for him…is up for interpretation. That's where the gray area is. But IMO Paul has almost always known that he's sexually attracted to other men and that John woke this in him. The big question for Paul is what he should do about it.

John There's been a lot written about John and his sexuality that I won't rehash here but truthfully I think John was in a similar place to Paul in knowing that he's always had a sexual preference for other men. John was a lot less comfortable about it though. Having unprotected sex with his girlfriends was, IMO, John trying to subconsciously engineer a situation that would "fix" him via an accidental pregnancy necessitating a marriage.

Of course that didn't do anything because it never does. John still felt chemistry with Paul when they met at the fête, with that quote about them "circling each other like cats." IMO John felt something immediately -- it's not entirely clear what -- though I don't think it "love at first sight" like with Paul. IMO their friendship, while still rooted in that chemistry, developed very naturally for John and he got to enjoy a platonic relationship with Paul before he put it all together. I say this because John saw Paul as a kid, not a peer, and that this endured for their lives in Liverpool pre-Hamburg. I struggle to imagine John or Paul deliberately inciting sexual or romantic contact during that time period aside from the group wank sessions (which were really trolling sessions from John.) Like, when Julia died, John went out and sought peers at art college like Cynthia and Stuart, other students his age. John and Paul bonded over losing their mothers and Paul has that quote about pranking people with the "oh yeah…my mum's dead thanks <3" bit but it also seems like John didn't want to be around that all the time. He lost his Uncle George and then his mother, he was starting to think that he was a death-curse on men in his family and that he brought suffering with him. He wanted to be away from that so he took a vacation from music to get a chance of scenery. Which meant putting Paul in a place of competition with Stuart and Cyn but I don't think John was thinking of that initially (though he exploited the situation later.)

Then Hamburg happens and they run wild. I have an entire meta about this that you can read here but I genuinely think John did not see Paul as a full fledged adult and potential sexual partner until they were in Hamburg in the red light district. I think that something happened there that we don't know about, that it's tied up in Stuart deciding to be with Astrid, John jilting Paul, Paul saying "fuck you I'm done" and getting a job at the coil winding factory in Liverpool after being deported, John tracking Paul down and spending weeks (probably) groveling and then giving Paul an ultimatum to come back to the Beatles. All of that screams 'I just realized I'm in love with my best friend and I'm freaking the fuck out' to me lmao.

John and Paul Of course something else changed after that too and John and Paul ended up becoming so close that even the Liverpool squares around them noticed. I think that whatever was going in their relationship, it started here. In the place where John and Paul were equally distraught with each other, the future of the band was uncertain, and Paul wanted a sign of commitment from John so that he didn't feel like he wasted years of his life. And of course John always felt compelled to be the man Paul wanted him to be so he treated Paul to a vacation in Paris which was so life affirming for them that it stayed with them for the rest of their lives. IMO the Paris vacation was explicitly romantic for them.

I think a switch flipped in 1961 and they went from "messing around" to "there's something there." It erupted in Paris and they showed each other more understanding and care then they expected from each other. John did sexy pin up poses for Paul in a bed that they shared; John remembers how the French held each other in their arms and just kissed each other, lovingly; Paul felt that he discovered the answer and that all those big name philosophers had nothing on the self realization he came to inside himself. Paul even took a photo of John that high lighted his package! Thanks to @louiselux for pointing this one out:

The thing was all the kissing and the holding that was going on in Paris. And it was so romantic, just to be there and see them, even though I was twenty-one and sort of not romantic. But I really loved it, the way the people would just stand under a tree kissing; and they weren’t mauling at each other, they were just kissing. — John Lennon, Playboy interview 1980

“We were like Paris existentialists. Jean-Paul Sartre had nothing on us. Sod ‘em all - I could write a novel… It was all inside me. I could do anything now.”

Paul McCartney, Anthology

Something happened in Paris and it wasn't just them getting haircuts and John buying Paul milkshakes. There was commitment there. And then the spell comes over them again when they return in January 1964:

The first night, John and Paul stayed in their suite, listening to records and reading fan mail. George, who had been signed for 100 pounds a day by the Daily Express to write of his experiences in Paris, went to a nightclub in the Place Pigalle.

Back in the City of Light, John and Paul slept till three o'clock in the afternoon. That much everybody agreed on.

Quote by Vincent Mulchrone from Daily Mail: George Harrison was astir early, but John Lennon and Paul McCartney slumbered on until frantic photographers forced them at lens point into the Champs-Élysées.

Derek Taylor (a British journalist) wanted to know why the Beatles slept so much. "My office wants to know what they're doing in Paris, so they'd better be doing something."

Love Me Do by Michael Braun

But I know what you're thinking. "What the hell does this all have to do with these two songs?"

And my reply is to keep a few things in mind:

Paul takes criticism and slights incredibly hard, possibly overreacting in some places and letting them overwhelm him mentally.

He never got over Barcelona, he never stopped resenting Stuart and Brian, he never got over John pulling the rug out from under him regarding the order of their names in the song credits. He contemplated committing suicide by smothering himself while he was in Scotland recovering from John leaving him.

John Lennon had a baby with a woman in the middle of all this. Julian Lennon was born April 8, 1963, conceived in July 1962, less than a year after Paris.

However Absurd & The Lovers That Never Were I listened to "However Absurd" and "The Lovers That Never Were" in that order. My immediate reaction is that these are both the same kind of song: they are both expressing sadness and frustration with John. This is a common theme with Paul's post-1980 John songs. What I find interesting is that they depict different though related gripes regarding John. In "However Absurd" Paul is expressing his longing for a cottagecore fantasy romance with John and then expressing frustration at John mocking him for it:

Ears twitch, like a dog Breaking eggs in a dish Do not mock me when I say This is not a lie

But in "The Lovers That Never Were" Paul expresses a different gripe: frustration that John won't commit to him and "anticipating" the break up that he secretly knew was coming ever since 1963 when John abandoned him and his own son to play patty-cake with Brian in Spain:

I hang patiently on every word you send Will we ever be much more than just friends? As for you, you sit there playing this game You keep me waiting

When all of the clocks have run down All over the world We'll be the lovers that never were

For as long as the sun shines in somebody's eyes I believe in you baby, so don't tell me lies For as long as the trees throw down blossoms and leaves I know there will be a parade of unpainted dreams

And I know dear, how much it's going to hurt If you still refuse to get your hands dirty So you, you must tell me something… I love you Say goodbye or anything

All of the clocks have run down Time's at an end If we can't be lovers we'll never be friends

John's penchant for disregarding Paul's feelings and even weaponizing them against Paul; the dashing of Paul's cottagecore dreams that were made and solidified in Paris; the fact that John, no matter what his intentions, could not get his shit together and commit to Paul no matter what he may have felt. These two songs are not contradictory to one another. Paul's idea of "commitment" looks very much like what he had with Linda and John in 1967: sharing a home, sharing a bed, being together every day, preferably somewhere green and remote. Exclusivity. Remember that Paul deliberately sabotaged his relationship with Jane Asher by nailing a woman in their bed when Jane came home, knowing perfectly well that he was breaking their exclusivity agreement.

That IMO, is what makes someone a lover and not just a friend you have sex with and secretly pine for. No cheating, or at least your agreed version of it. No disrespecting the relationship. Continuously being together. What did John do instead of this?

I think that Paul started out his "relationship" with John carrying high hopes and then watched them crumble to dust, over and over, because John simply did not take him seriously. He got Cynthia pregnant, he ran around on Paul with Brian, he had the nerve to flip out on Jane Asher when Paul brought her around when he was the one who couldn't stay faithful to Cynthia.

My hot take is that these songs demonstrate that Paul simply could not imagine John ever truly committing to him and treating him as a true partner. The homophobia and yes ~society~ is in there too but Paul was happy to flout this when it came to just about anyone else, traipsing all over France with Fraser and Mal. The difference is that he flat out didn't trust John. Being jilted for Stuart in Hamburg loomed too big in his head. Cynthia and Julian loomed too big in his head. Brian and Barcelona, realizing that John would happily betray whatever agreements or understandings he had with Paul simply to screw Paul out of a deal, loomed too big in his head. I think in particular its Barcelona that made Paul think John didn't value any of their professed ideals. John broke Paul's heart years before Yoko came along.

He didn't trust John. Fatalism is easier than taking control of your own life sometimes, and in Paul's mind there was no reason to believe John was genuine. Like, Paul knew John very well! He had very good reason to think that John was simply not serious about him. And John, no matter what his intentions were, proved that correct over and over and over and over.

So ultimately, I think that's what these songs are about. The melodies don't necessarily reflect this when I listened to them but I think that "The Lovers That Never Were" in particular is juxtaposing bitter wink-and-nod lyrics with an oddly perky tune. It's Paul laughing at himself for ever thinking John was willing to commit. He's mocking himself because while he allowed himself to get swept up in the dream of a possible genuine relationship with John, he knew deep down that it would go the way it did. That John would find a reason to get tired of him and abandon him. And then when Yoko came along, that's exactly what John did. Paul fatalistically accepted that the time had come and John met Paul's low expectations of him.

The Weight I don't think John and Paul necessarily planned to have a secret relationship. It seems more like they bundled the sexual/romantic stuff into their "thing" where it was just part and parcel of who they were and what they did. "It's only gay if the balls touch" etc. At some point that changed but Paul became convinced early on that it wouldn't work out so he didn't acknowledge his own secret desires and dreams. There was no roadmap between him and John about where they were taking this exactly and how they were going to make it work. He had sex with John and even engaged with romantic actions with John, hoping against hope that something would change and he would be proven wrong, but then John would be careless and Paul would collapse into hurt.

And oh yeah: Paul never, ever discussed any of this with John Lennon. He never told John how hurt he was because he didn't want to put up with John's derision. He felt devalued and lost and in typical Paul fashion he chose to ignore this for years and never bring it up, forcing it to come out in bizarre nonsensical actions when he inevitably boiled over. Why would he choose to confront it? He made sure to set up several safety nets to catch him! Jane and the Ashers, striking out on his own with "The Family Way" score, rubbing John's face in his escapades with other males as a way to go 'see, I don't need you just like you don't need me. How about THAT?'

I don't think John ever intended to hurt Paul as badly as he did. He thought that if Paul was upset about something then he would know via their ~telepathic connection.~ I think that he deliberately overlooked warning signs because he felt intensely guilty about certain actions he took (God only knows which ones) and that he helped himself not see Paul's hurt. I do think if he had the slightest idea of what was going on in Paul's head then he would have changed tactics immediately out of fear of losing Paul forever. But at heart John was a coward and if he didn't want to see something was wrong then he wouldn't see it unless something forced his hand. Like say, having his former best friend/ex-lover look him in the eye and go "I can write new songs" and kill The Beatles in a court of law. (And of course once he realized what he had done, years after the fact, it was too little too late. He couldn't take it back. How do you make up for inflicting that much hurt on someone that you supposedly care for? This paralyzed John for years.)

This was obviously a huge mistake and I think it was one of the landmines that blew their relationship up. Paul allowed his distrust and bitterness to overwhelm him. He should have been honest with John about his feelings; maybe not immediately but when they were able to look back with some perspective. Paul should have realized that their relationship could take heat. He should have trusted John more and if he had then John could have risen to the occasion. Everything could have been different. No more "I believe in you baby, so don't tell me lies." No more "Do not mock me when I say/This is not a lie."

He even expresses this in a third song, one that IMO puts this entire thing into perspective and ties these three songs together with a neat bow. "This One":

Did I ever take you in my arms, look you in the eye Tell you that 'I do?' Did I ever open up my heart And let you look inside?…

Did I ever touch you on the cheek Say that you were mine, thank you for the smile? Did I ever knock upon your door Try to get inside?…

Please take note of the bolded "Tell you that 'I do'!" Paul's deepest regret with regards to John is not trusting him more. He wishes that he had opened up to John about his hurt and how he angry he was that John was devaluing their relationship. That he wanted to commit to John but that he was scared John wouldn't say 'I do' back.

From John's POV he's just being John; he's looking out for the band. God knows he tried to be what Paul needed him to be but he got mixed signals and inconsistent behavior and Paul's ice queen behavior frustrated him to no end. This resulted in an endless circle of "fuck you/no no no, fuck YOU/well fuck you then!/fuck you" that ended up killing what they had.

But John is guilty in this too. He never made himself accountable to Paul. He didn't explain his actions. He acted rashly and selfishly and then was shocked when it blew up in his face. He didn't consistently act like he loved Paul. He took Paul for granted and told himself that he was doing the right thing, because changing your behavior is very very hard. He didn't let Paul in when it mattered.

Did you ever take me in your arms Look me in the eye, tell me that 'you do?'

As Paul grew up and he started to come to grips with the "What happened" of it all, maybe he realized that he had procrastinated. That he put off what mattered most because he couldn't bear to make himself vulnerable as a young man. Maybe he was waiting for a perfect moment to open himself up to John knowing perfectly well it would never arrive, a common delaying tactic for insecure and avoidant people. Not admitting that the perfect moment would never come and that he had to extend trust to receive it in return.

If I never did it, I was only waiting For a better moment that didn't come There never could be a better moment Than this one, this one

I think he's still angry at John for multiple betrayals, slaps to the face, and devaluing the specialness of their relationship and their affection for each other. But I also think that Paul is angry at himself for not trusting John, for not working harder at their relationship. He also delivered multiple betrayals and slaps to the face to John, feeding John's insecurity and fears of abandonment. Making a mockery of their relationship and how special it was. Paul has been doing public penance for this ever since John died, which snapped everything into perspective and he finally realized the full scope of his own screw ups.

Because it took two to destroy a relationship this intense and this special. If Paul did not know that before...

Well. He does now.

[mrchiipchrome]

The '23 Bonnie & Clyde

W.C: 2,9 K

You had started to play the guitar at the age of four when your parents bought you your very first guitar. It was one of those truly horrible plastic toy guitars with basically unusable strings. Two years later they put you in your first lessons and now 18 years later you are still playing your heart out, only now in front of unimaginable crowds. You and some of your childhood friends created your band at the ripe age of 15 as you started with making covers of your favorite songs in your garage and later uploading them to YouTube.

Soon enough your videos began to pick up some traction and you began getting gigs at local bars and cafes, and eventually you even began to write your own songs. You were the songwriter/guitarist, Benjamin was your bassist and backup vocalist, Amelia was your lead singer and Alexander was your drummer. 

You’re the one who writes the lyrics as well as the actual music as you were the one who had the best visions of how the songs were supposed to sound. The rest of the band usually gave their input and you made sure to add as much of them as possible. In your fifteen year old minds you thought that calling your band The Summer Trucks was the most hilarious thing ever, now that was a household name. 

Now at 24 you were incredibly thankful for everything that has transpired in your life up to this point. All your work and creativity has earned you a massive record deal and success all over the world with your songs being played practically everywhere. And yet everything paled in comparison to her, your girlfriend who you had met in a local coffee shop in North Carolina three years ago. You had just finished a gig, though this one without your band mates as the owner had requested that you be the only one there.

You hadn’t paid attention to where you were going, having had a song idea and needed to write it down before it slipped your mind. You were cautiously walking towards the counter to order yourself whatever drink you were craving that day when you felt another body colliding with your own, warm liquid spilling down your front as you let out a quick yelp. 

You were incredibly surprised and as your now stained tee stuck to your skin you could hear a multitude of apologies fall from the other person's lips. When you looked up you were even more surprised, she was undoubtedly the most beautiful girl you had ever seen and you had let your eyes fall on celebrities who were classed as the most beautiful in the world. And yet none of those celebrities had even a fraction of the clumsy girl’s beauty. 

You were simply speechless, the hot drink spilled on you earlier completely forgotten about. She took your silence as anger which was the complete opposite of what you were feeling. You reached your hands up to her arms, a way to tell her that it was okay and that you weren’t mad. She stops her rambling as soon as she looks into your eyes and seemingly recognises who you are, you can nearly see how the cogs turn in her head as she figures out where she has seen you before. Her eyes widened and you let a smile creep onto your face, looking down you spot her athletic wear and the iconic tar heels logo on the front. 

“I’m so incredibly sorry, I don’t even know how I fell- God I’m so stupid” Before she can continue to put herself down you invite her to sit with you in one of the countless booths in the coffee shop. This led to you and the mystery girl, who later let you know that her name was Alessia, engaging in a conversation lasting hours. 

By the end of the meeting it was dark outside and both of you had gotten countless texts from your teammates or bandmates respectively. But you felt like you had known Alessia for years and as you picked up your guitar from the guitar stand you asked her to put her number in your phone, even going as far as letting her know the code to your phone. 

As you make your way back to the hotel where you and your bandmates had been staying all you could think about was Alessia and how her eyes were some of the most gorgeous things you had ever seen. When you had arrived at the hotel your bandmates could see the dazed look in your eyes and instead of trying to tease you about being out for so long, they left you alone knowing that times like these were when you would write masterpieces. 

That night all you did was sit and write, you wrote everything that you had felt during your conversation and everything after. Then the process of rewriting your thoughts into songs began and by the end of the night your band had gained five new songs. Arriving down for breakfast that morning you were sluggish in your movements, dark circles surrounding your eyes and an accomplished smile on your tired face. 

Those five songs plus an additional four amassed into an album to which you gave the name ‘Coffee Shop Love’, the band's third studio album. Made up of love filled songs and hopeful messages, it became one of the most listened to albums of 2020 with many songs topping the charts in countless different countries. You and Alessia continued to text each other and after two months of flirting and sweet goodmorning messages you had finally gotten together.

15 year old you never would have thought that this would be your life, touring with the band created in your garage and an amazing footballer as your girlfriend. Sure, it had been difficult few years with Alessia training and having games and you touring with the band and writing hit after hit. 

You did take a break from touring when you attended the Euros final at Wembley, having been invited by Alessia. The pure joy expressed on Alessia’s face when that final whistle blew had your own eyes tearing up as you cheered and sang ‘Sweet Caroline’ with the rest of the crowd. 

Lately you had become a hot topic between Alessia’s teammates as well as the media, having been spotted going to their games wearing an England jersey with the name on the back unknown. It had recently been revealed that the band was in the studio, working on new music and you were known for going to random and unrelated places for inspiration. Well, it had started that way but after meeting Alessia you had started to go to places that reminded you of her. Coffee shops, football pitches and different locations in Manchester were where you would be found most times.

Sometimes you could be found wandering the cold, narrow streets of Manchester before sitting down on a random bench under a tree with only your notebook and a pen to keep you company. When you would come home you would sit down and start to compose a tune which matches perfectly with the words that are jotted down in your notebook.

Returning to the matter at hand, Alessia’s teammates had been arguing nonstop for the past few weeks and it was driving her nuts. Most nights she’s heard complaining over facetime about how miserable it is to hear her teammates argue about who’s name was on the back of your jersey when it clearly was hers. And everytime she complained you just laughed and told her that it was your secret and every time she would give you one of her signature smiles, the one that could instantly light up your slightly brooding demeanor.

You and Alessia had never really had the conversation of going public, I mean you never really had to considering no one suspected anything despite going on numerous dates together and posting small hints about who you were hanging out with. There were a few muttered suspicions from people of both fandoms but nothing really took off, so ultimately it fell on our hands to reveal your relationship.

Now going about this was something new to the both of you, never having to reveal a relationship before and you had sat and discussed late into the evening on how to do it. There were many options, going to one of her games and kissing her at the end, dropping hints in your music, soft launching it or hard launching it. Eventually you both settled on making the announcement via instagram, with matching photos from the past halloween where you had dressed in matching costumes.

—————————

“Lessi! Where are you?” The vibrations of your voice carry throughout the apartment as you enter. This is normal, you asking where she is as soon as you enter wanting to locate her as soon as possible. Today a sense of urgency is noticeable as your voice sounds hurried, throwing out the words without a care in the world. 

“In here!” Her downright addictive voice reaches your ears, seemingly coming from the direction of the kitchen. Unconsciously, your feet carry you in the direction of her voice in an effort to see and embrace her. Arriving at the kitchen the sight that meets your eyes is so domestic that you feel like you’re about to cry. Standing there over the stove is Alessia cooking some Italian dish you’ve forgotten the name of. 

The heavenly smell wafts into your nose and you let out a small groan, waltzing over to her as she stirs whatever is in the pan and you wrap your rather muscular arms around her waist. You have started to join in on some extra workouts she performs at home recently and you’ve started to see the result, arms more defined as well as your leg muscles something you know Alessia enjoyed seeing. It isn’t that you didn’t workout before, it’s just that you didn’t do it as frequently as you do currently.

It warms your heart whenever Alessia cooks for you, to think that she takes time out of her day to cook you a home cooked meal just amazes you. She cooks for you even though she’s tired and sore from training, it just makes your heart burst with love.

“Do you need help with anything?” Shaking her head, she turns towards you while you continue to clutch her waist. When she finally faces you she moves her hands up and places them delicately against your reddened cheeks, leaning in to connect your lips for what feels like the first time today. When she pulls away she keeps her hands on your face, fingers gently running over your lips as a large smile takes over her soft features when your blush darkens. 

Turning around in your arms, she takes back her earlier statement as she nods her head towards the living room where all your guitar equipment is. 

“Some live music would be nice” Barking out a loud laugh at her statement you remove your arms from their place around her waist and start your short trek through the small Manchester apartment. It is a one bedroom apartment with a large living room and a nice bedroom.

There was a doorway that led from the kitchen into the living room and then when you reach the living room there was another doorway that led to a hallway straight into the bedroom you shared. The bathroom is just to the right side of the entrance, while the coat and shoe rack are to the left. 

Picking up your favorite acoustic guitar, your very first one in fact, you start to walk back towards the kitchen all while picking up your capo and a plectrum. When you arrive back in the kitchen you see Alessia standing there, a glass of red wine in her hands as she continues to cook. Walking over to her you pluck the glass out of her hands, taking a quick sip before handing it back to her but not before getting fixed with an offended look.

Sitting down on the marble countertop you are in your natural habitat, with a guitar sitting in your lap. Your fingers are on the fretboard as you start to tune it, first playing the bass E while holding your finger on the fifth fret and the A string together to see if they sound the same. You tweak the E string a little bit before repeating the process and moving your finger down to the fifth fret on the A string and playing it together with the D string. It repeats until you reach the B string where you move your finger to the fourth fret as the high E has a lighter sound than what you could match with the B. 

“Alright, I’m all tuned and ready. You have any requests for the performer, madam?”

“Yeah, could you do that Metallica song we listened to last saturday? I can’t remember what it’s called, Nothing happens? Nothing else…something.” Snapping her fingers as she tries to remember the song's name has a quick smile creeping up on your face.

“Nothing Else Matters, you mean? Sure I can play that for you!” You see the relieved smile on her face as you understand her ramblings. Playing the opening notes of the calm song you soon have to run your fingers all over the fret all while alternating between plucking and strumming with your right hand. You play with an unbelievable amount of class, alike to how Alessia behaves on the pitch in your element.

The song comes to a close just as Alessia finishes up the food and you put your guitar back in its place in the living room before joining Alessia again. You help her with the cutlery and the plates as she serves you both, you go over to the cupboard again as you search for a glass. Taking a hold of your chosen glass you move towards the refrigerator where you fetch the sparkling water. Sitting down across the table from Alessia, you take a bite of the food and nearly moan as the incredible flavour hits your tastebuds.

The sound of Alessia’s soft laughter wakes you from the trance the food has put you in and you look up and straight into her unbelievably blue eyes.Suddenly you can’t help but blurting out something you had thought about long and hard. Watching as Alessia takes a bite of her pasta,your mouth spills out the words.

“I want to reveal our relationship” All of a sudden choking sounds are heard and the only thing you can think about is when she told you about how she had choked on her pasta in Jordan. Going to her side to clap her back, you press a kiss to the side of her face when she seems to not be choking anymore.

“What?” 

“I wanna tell people about us. I wanna be able to hold your hand and take you to award shows. I wanna be able to brag to people about my strong footballer girlfriend that I’m oh so proud of.”

“Yeah, yeah I can get behind that. How do you want to announce it?”

“Instagram? We can post the pictures from last halloween, you were so gorgeous drenched in fake blood.”

She gives you a weird look when you say that but you just shrugged as if saying ‘what? did you want me to lie?’. Getting through the rest of the meal without any other outbursts, you eventually settle on the couch after putting your cutlery in the dishwasher and you start to plan out how you were going to do this. Choosing your pictures and typing out matching captions based on your outfits in the pictures you press post at the exact same time, not having to wait for long until your phones start to blow up.

@ yourinstagram

Liked by leahwiliamsonn, alessiarusso99 and 2 863 657 others

yourinstagram all I need in this life of sin is me and my girlfriend @alessiarusso99

alessiarusso99 love you my Clyde❤️

↳yourinstagram love you even more my Bonnie ❤️

leahwilliamsonn you have to introduce us @alessiarusso99

ellatoone why wasn’t I told about this 😐

 ↳loveameliaclark yeah why weren’t we told about this

    ↳benmajorss yeah @ yourinstagram @alessiarusso99

       ↳alexgrant98 yeah

          ↳yourinstagram you just had to join didn’t you @alexgrant98

beyoncé ❤️

   ↳woso-fan BEYONCÉ?

ohgrays this is so nom x

y/nfan37 EXCUSE ME? Now this I didn’t have on my 2023 bingo card 

barclayswsl hottest couple alert 🚨 

thesummertrucksofficial w caption 

 ↳yourinstagram thanks Matthew

@alessiarusso99

Liked by yourinstagram, ellatoone and 186 593 others

alessiarusso99 The ‘23 Bonnie and Clyde, Blondie and Rockstar @yourinstagram

yourinstagram I only need you my dearest Bonnie ❤️

  ↳alessiarusso99 and I you my dearest Clyde ❤️

loveameliaclark still mad that you didn’t tell us first @ yourinstagram, but welcome into the family Alessia!

benmajorss so you’re the reason why we have been getting sweet love songs lately…

   ↳yourinstagram BENJAMIN ANDRE MAJORS II

      ↳tstloml not the full name💀

alexgrant98 so who’s the best man?

    ↳benmajorss me obviously 

       ↳loveameliaclark nah it’s obviously me

          ↳alexgrant98 @loveameliaclark ur not even a man

             ↳loveameliaclark I will hit you @alexgrant98

manutdwomen ❤️

russolover the matching captions, are they trying to kill us?

You repost each others post on your instagram stories before settling into the couch and spending the rest of the night together with Alessia basking in each others company, proud of the fact that you had just broken the internet.

Happy Easter/holidays everyone if you celebrate that! Hope y'all like that one. I've been playing the guitar since I was about 8, but I started to take lessons in fourth grade and I'm in eighth now. But yeah this was a fun one, What do we think about R being a manager for the next fic?

[gaianyx]

Hii! How do you think Fred would react when he finds out Y/N had left a lipstick stain on his face (she kissed his cheek in the morning) and he had been walking around all day with it without noticing it?

Hope it makes sense, have a lovely day xx

Marked By You

by Jane F. Nyx

A/N: Heyy, thanks for your request!! I loved the idea and did my best to deliver it. I haven't been active those last few months because i was going trough a bad writers block ;-; But now I'm back again with new stories already in the oven ;)

Feedbacks and tips will be wel recieved :)) Proof read.

Pairing: Fred Weasley X Reader

W/C: 1.K

Hope you all enjoy it!!

"Bye, honey," was the last thing that I heard after she kissed me on the cheek and headed to her last lesson of the day.

Her smell... Intoxicating.

I followed her with my eyes until she turned left, out of the Great Hall. Her hair swayed when she walked away. She was stunning. This girl had me on a hook and she definitely knew it.

"You have a little drool over here," George said pointing to the corner of his own mouth, laughing.

"Yeah, yeah," I shoved his shoulder slightly, and George started laughing even harder. "Just saying that this girl has you on the tip of her finger. You, my dearest brother, are in l o v e," he made a heart with his hands. Wanting to drop the subject I tried to stay silent, but still said under my breath "Yeah, maybe I am,".

Me and Y/N had been best friends for a long long time, our parents knowing each other having most to do with it. But our friendship turned out to be much more, I confessed, she confessed and here we were.  Almost five months later, now officially together but still keeping it private. And still, none of us had had the guts to say those three magical words, that mean more than what they show. 

Maybe soon…

Me and George got up after a little chat with the group, they were laughing a little more than normal giggling like girls, but I guessed it had something to do with George's comment and I let it be.

Heading to our class I had a feeling I was being watched, and while paying more attention I began to hear the whispering. I was almost a hundred procent sure it was because of me.

Not trying to brag, but I was kind of used to it. Before me and Y/N were something I was a girls man, if you know what I mean. After one particular summer and a huge glow-up, they suddenly had eyes for me, and don’t get me wrong but I wasn't going to let that opportunity slip.

Even tho I and Y/N were now official, we were private. Most not knowing we were together, but we never denied it when asked. 

This could explain the whispering, but still. Am I so irresistible? Nah, hahaha. I tried to ignore it and continued my journey to Professor McGonagall's class.

But the whispering and stars did not stop even when I entered the classroom, instead, it became clear that it was about me, I just had no clue why. It was only when Professor McGonagall entered the classroom that it stopped. As usual.

She scanned the room, looking for any imperfections or unusualities. Her eyes roomed the class from the very back until they stopped, where I was sitting. She walked to us, me, George and Lee and stopped right in front of our desk, looking directly at me. I am not going to lie, she was a very intimidating person and this time I had no clue as to what I had done wrong. I tried my best to think about what I had done wrong this time, I really did, but still, nothing had crossed my mind. 

Then she spoke, “As much as I think that this colour suits you very well Mr Weasley, it is not appropriate to have this marked on your cheek,” she stayed serious, hands crossed behind her back. ‘My cheek?’ I thought, what could possibly be marked on my cheek, “Could you please walk to the toilet and wash your face, after that, you are welcome back in my classroom hopefully without the whispering. You are apparently a popular person Mr Weasley,” she walked back to her place behind her own desk. Eyes following me as I left I did as she told and walked myself to the closest toilet curious as to what she was talking about. 

As soon as I walked in I saw it, it was crystal clear, I had been marked by you, your signature lipstick was now the main attraction on my white cheek. I wished I could have framed your kiss, girl, you made me soft and I loved it. 

I loved you, shit!

Those three words again, they stayed in my head as I washed my face, as I walked back to class and in class, I was working on automatic, malfunctioning, all because of you.

It was only when the bell rang that I finally awoke from my trance. Transfiguration had been my last period of the day so I headed to our spot, knowing it was also your last period of the day.

Shit! There I was again thinking about the words, the kiss, you… You, you looked stunning, unaware I had already spotted you. 

I walked to you and touched your shoulder, a beautiful smile appeared on your face when you realised it was me. God, I was so danm lucky.

Maybe now…

“I love you,” shit, I said it, did you even hear it? Your smile brightened, yep,  you definitely heard it. “What took you so long?” and you kissed me, you kissed me at our spot, the place we had finally confessed our feelings, the place I had finally said it, I said I loved you. 

This was everything I had wished for, you were everything I had wished for.

Our lips let go of each other, now able to breathe again after this amazing kiss we had shared, our foreheads now touching as we tried to even our breath, “You know? I didn’t hear you say it…”  I looked into her eyes through my lashes, she toke some distance and rested her hands on my neck, “Frederick Gideon Weasley, I love you!”.

“Finally!” exclaimed a happy Lee who turned to George that was next to him (not as happy), “George, you owe me ten galleons!” 

-“Seriously Fred, why couldn’t you have waited one day?!” George crossed his arms and headed to his dorm as Y/N and I laughed.

Requests: Open  

A/N: Thank you very much for reading this post, it means a lot!

If you enjoyed this post pls don’t forget to like and reblog &lt;3333

See you on the next post,

xoxo Jane

[sweetlummie]

Creep

Mood board made by my lovey love @iamasaddie tysm 💗💗

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Creep!Joel Miller x Plus size!reader

!!! 18+ content. If you’re a minor go away !!!

A/n: I’m back at it again folks with sum a little longer! Also this is a combination of best friend’s dad!joel as well as dad’s best friend!joel. As always constructive criticism is welcome! Enjoy! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! 🫶🫶💗💗

Also big thank you to @gab-thelamb-onthemoon for proofreading, thanks mama 🫶💗

Warnings: Joel is a massive creep, noncon, cunnilingus, somnophilia, and slight mentions of impregnation

W/c: 1,037

Weirdo (pt. 2) The Hell am I Doing Here? (pt.3)

* ・‥…━━━━━━━ *˖◛⁺♡ ━━━━━━━…‥・

You were a bright-faced, cheerful girl. You attended a community college in Austin since you moved in with your dad when you turned 18. You spent your childhood with your mother and barely saw your dad. You decided to cut your old man some slack given how difficult your mom is, so despite her wishes, you moved in with your dad once you graduated high school.

Your dad had been best friends with Joel Miller since he got to Austin some years back, and the summers you would spend over there, you got along just fine with his daughter Sarah. Now that you’re all grown up and in college, you barely see each other, especially since Sarah is studying out of state. Once she gets home, you two plan a sleepover to catch up and do girl things, like the old days. You both decide to have the sleepover at Sarah’s house since she has a pool, and you don’t. You spent the whole afternoon together splashing in the water, playing mermaids like you would when you were little.

Joel was in the house while you both were having your sleepover. He hates to admit it, but you’ve gotten so gorgeous in his eyes. Your curvaceous figure, plump ass and thighs, plush tummy, hell, even your breasts are enticing to him. He never really noticed you till after you moved in with your father. He simply couldn’t take his eyes off of you. If he was being frank with himself, he’s always loved bigger women. He loved the idea of holding onto their hips with a bruising grip as he fucked them from behind. He wanted to see the women beneath him jiggle from the amount of force he’d pound into them with. He wondered how wonderfully you’d shake if he were to have his way with you. Joel returned from his thoughts when you both entered the house, dripping wet. It took everything within Joel not to groan at your damp state. He simply just went upstairs, away from the temptation.

.。･:*♡ ♡*:･。.

After having a shower and eating dinner, you and Sarah change into your PJs and decide to tuck in and watch a movie. 30 minutes into the film, you both fall asleep, exhausted from swimming around all day. You had thrashed around in your sleep, finding a comfortable position as you were in and out of consciousness. The precarious position made your tank top ride up on your tummy, and your sleep shorts that barely covered your ass had exposed the entirety of your thighs.

Joel decided to check in on his girls to ensure they were okay. He quietly opened Sarah’s door and took in their sleeping forms. He mumbled, “Good night, baby girl.” He then turned his attention to you, the blanket on you long forgotten on the floor and exposing you to him. He slowly and quietly made his way over to you, eyeing you down, his breath hitched.

“Look at you. A vision for sore eyes. So fucking pretty.” He whispered as he got down on his knees. He scanned your body from top to bottom, taking in your vulnerable state. Joel moved his hand to caress your tummy. “So plump and soft.. must be a nice pillow.. fuck imagine your pretty little stomach filled with my babies.” He said to himself as his cock strained in his sweatpants; the thought of breeding your little pussy and impregnating you excited him.

He moved on to palm your tits over your tank top. Your nipples had hardened when he began touching you. You were none the wiser, simply asleep. A victim to the perverse man before you. “So fucking soft. Wanna paint your pretty tits with my cum..” As gently as he could, he moved his hand down to your clothed pussy. His eyes darkened as he cupped your clothed sex. He wondered if you were wet right now due to his touch.

He knows he shouldn’t; he knows that this is all wrong; you’re his best friend’s daughter and his daughter's best friend, for Christ's sake! He shouldn’t want you! His desire silenced all rational thought.

He moved your sleeping shorts aside along with your panties and opened your folds. You let out a soft whimper in your sleep, causing Joel to stop his movements. Once you settled down in your sleep, Joel resumed praising your wet cunt. “Fuck. Such a beautiful princess. I want to fuck your tight little hole and ruin you for anyone else. Mark you up, fill you with my cum. Make you mine..” Joel whispered into your cunt, his fingers gently running along the wet seam of your puffy cunt. He couldn’t take it anymore; he just had to have a taste!

Joel leaned forward and began to press soft kisses to your pussy. He gently lapped up your wetness and sucked on your clit. With his free hand, he had moved it down his body to palm his hard cock, trying to alleviate his arousal.

There was no way you didn’t feel what was happening between your legs as your orgasm approached. Your eyes opened, and your hand flew to yank the hair of whoever was eating you out.

“M-Mr. Miller?!” You whispered as you looked down at him in horror. Joel chuckled in a dark tone as if you were catching him doing something naughty. “Hey, princess. Don’t mind me, just tasting the sweetest honey from the sweetest girl.” He purred as he gave one long lick up your pussy, never taking his eyes off yours as he did so. You held back a loud moan by slapping your hand over your mouth. You couldn’t believe this was happening. Sure, you found Mr. Miller attractive, but you never thought he’d be into you as well.

“C’mon, pretty girl, let me finish what I started in my room. I don’t wanna wake Sarah up now.” He smiled at her, standing up, holding his hand out to you. You bit your bottom lip to think for a few seconds before deciding to go. Screw it. He was a hot older man, and you’ve wanted him for a while now. One night couldn’t hurt. Could it?

* ・‥…━━━━━━━ *˖◛⁺♡ ━━━━━━━…‥・

[shingekinohyrulewrites]

Tequila Hallucination

You've had a crush on Professor Kujo since walking into his Intro to Marine Science class. After a chance encounter while out drinking, you have a memorable night with him.

Read on AO3 here

SMUT AHEAD 18+ ONLY WARNINGS FOR :

Handjobs, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, creampie, mentions of breeding

Just a reminder friends that while Professor/student relationships seem hot in theory, there is a HUGE power imbalance in play.

College was the number one experience that you had been looking forward to since you started high school. When the topic came up freshman year, you began building a roadmap to college. You mapped out what classes to take, what GPA to maintain, and what colleges were the best fit for you. As you progressed from a freshman to a sophomore, you started narrowing down your major choices and, by the time you were a junior, you were dead set on California State University at Monterey. It had the major that you wanted (Marine Science) and was far enough away that you were out of your parent’s grasp but not too far that you could still visit home for holidays and breaks. Plus, the campus was close enough to the beach that you could go hang out there to study!

The roadmap that you had developed shifted to college and, once you were accepted into CSU Monterey and gave them your intent to enroll, you began deciding what classes to take for each semester. Your college counselor had suggested you take your General Education classes first, knocking out each requirement to get into the Marine Science major faster. When you had to register for classes, the counselor assigned to you was surprised at how in depth your plan was.

“You . . . have a spreadsheet?” they had asked, eyes wide.

Freshman year was spent taking only Gen Ed classes, crossing them off your spreadsheet and taking classes over the summer to advance your progress. Your classmates were impressed with your dedication, often asking you to help them plan out their programs and asking you for advice.

When you started your sophomore year at CSU Monterey, you were excited to cross off the last of your Gen Ed requirements so you could shift and focus entirely on the Marine Science major. You immediately made an appointment with your counselor to make sure you were still on track, and they had laughed when you walked in with a worried look.

“You are the last student who needs to be worried,” they had remarked. “Look at how organized you are!”

“I know,” you pouted. “But a lot can happen! Who knows what could change.”

“Oh, stop,” they sighed, shaking their head. “All is going well. You can take your first Marine Science course next semester.”

The idea of being one step closer to your major had you working even harder, and your first semester was spent at office hours or in the library. Social activities were on hold, no matter how much letting off steam sounded appealing.

Second semester rolled around, and you were finally taking your first Marine Science course. The course, Marine Science 1, was the first introductory class for the major. Given the competitiveness of the program, you had been told that you had to complete the Gen Ed requirements, including an Economics class and three Mathematics classes (where you had struggled in each one). A few of your high school classes had been applied to your program, which was why you were able to sign up for Marine Science 1.

The course was described as an introduction to the field of Marine Science and would include introductory terms and concepts. In order to take the next one in the series, Marine Science 2, you had to pass with a C or higher. The thought of getting a C made your eye twitch, so you made a promise to yourself to get an A.

The morning of the first class you woke up early, sitting up in your bed and stretching before gathering your bathroom things and shuffling into the communal bathroom. You took your time getting ready, satisfied with your appearance before making your way over to the dining commons to have a filling breakfast. Marine Science 1 was your first class of the day, set to start at 9 sharp. The lecture hall was near the dining commons you were at, so you took your time walking over there before finding a bench nearby to wait to enter.

There was an 8 AM lecture before the class, so you occupied yourself with checking your backpack to make sure you had all of your supplies before scrolling through your phone. The class was let out at 8:45, and you brushed your way through the exiting crowd and into the large lecture hall. Smiling to yourself, you sat in the third row in a middle seat before gathering your supplies and getting ready for lecture.

The lecture hall filled up quickly, and you noted that the Professor hadn’t arrived yet. Maybe they were running late? Did they have first day jitters?

Do professors get first day jitters?

Shaking your head, you glanced around you and noted still no professor.

“Very unprofessional,” you muttered to yourself.

The clock ticked closer to nine, and you wondered if the class would be cancelled. Your heart sank in your chest at the thought, and you began preparing yourself for the worst. Sighing, you checked your phone, seeing the time change to 9.

“Sorry I’m late.”

A deep voice rang out through the hall, causing everyone to go silent. You swiveled your head just in time to see the professor hurrying down the aisle. He was a blur as he rushed by, and you didn’t get a good look until he was standing at the podium.

He was hot.

He was dressed all in white, giving him a slightly ethereal look. A white trench coat hung down his long legs, a purple turtleneck underneath tucked into white pants. You swallowed thickly as you observed the way his clothing seemed to stretch along his muscles. A white hat sat on his head, but he removed it to run a hand through his dark hair. While his hair was styled neatly, you could tell that it was slightly unruly, as a few loose strands stuck out in curls.

“My name is Professor Kujo, and I will be your professor for Marine Science 1 this semester.”

He finally looked up, revealing a pair of intense blue eyes. They looked around the lecture hall, taking in the size of the audience before settling on you. You felt a shiver run up your spine at how strong his gaze was upon you. The moment was severed when he cleared his throat and opened up his presentation.

The first lecture went by too fast, and you found yourself feeling slightly disappointed as you left. Professor Kujo had gone over his background, revealing that he was working on his PhD and mostly did research in the area by campus. He had presented at different conferences and revealed that some of his research papers would be assigned reading for the course. Overall, he was an impressive man and you found yourself drawn to him.

It seemed you weren’t the only one. You overhead girls whispering as you walked out about how hot and gorgeous Professor Kujo was.

“Do you think he’s single?” one girl giggled.

“I didn’t see a ring on his finger,” her friend replied.

As the semester went on, you realized that Professor Kujo was strict. He seemingly exerted order in every aspect of his life, and it spilled over heavily into his course. You had a feeling he rarely gave extensions for work and expected his exams to be difficult and full of details that you couldn’t miss.

Your predictions came true when midterms rolled around. Professor Kujo had been kind enough to supply a study guide, but once you went over it you realized there was a lot you had to brush up on. Every moment was spent studying from the day he passed out the guide. Thankfully, your other classes had midterms you could breeze through, which meant you could focus on Professor Kujo’s class.

“Why don’t you just ask him for help?”

Your roommate, Anne, was walking with you to the library. The two of you had booked a study room and intended to stay until dinner.

“Are you kidding?” you gasped. “Professor Kujo would probably ding me for that.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

Thankfully, you managed to pass the exam with a B+, and Anne announced that you two would be celebrating.

“I got us some fake IDs for the occasion!”

The two of you took an Uber to the adjacent college town, using your new IDs to get into the newest club. It was packed, the smell of sweat and alcohol permeating the air. Anne rushed to the bar to get shots while you glanced around to take note of the place.

“Here, cheers!”

You clinked the shot glass before throwing the drink back. The burn felt delightful, and you realized you really needed an outlet. You sent Anne back for another round of shots which you took before dragging her out to the dance floor.

Two drinks and an hour of dancing later, you were feeling awesome. You moved to the loud bass, laughing as Anne grinded against you. She had a much better tolerance than you and was entertained at how drunk you were getting. A few guys had come up to try and dance with you two, but Anne only allowed the cute or non creepy ones to get close. While you hadn’t thought about taking anyone home, the thought began to form in your mind.

It was nearing midnight when you realized you didn’t want the night to end. You were now three drinks in and had crossed over into drunk territory. Anne dragged you to the bathroom so you both could use it before returning back to the dance floor. At this point the club was packed, having to push through tightly packed bodies to get back to dancing.

“Girl, you need some water. The last thing I need is for you to get blacked out.”

Anne waggled a finger at you in warning.

“Do not go anywhere or talk to anyone. I’ll be right back.”

You gave her a sloppy salute in response. Rolling her eyes, she turned and disappeared towards the bar. She had left you on the outskirts of the dance floor, leaning against a random table. You hummed along to the music and turned your head upon feeling someone approach you.

“Yo! You look like you need a drink!”

A tall guy wearing a CSU Monterey sweatshirt was holding a bottle of tequila. He grinned down at you, wiggling his eyebrows as he jerked his head towards the bottle.

“Come take a handle pull! This shit is expensive!”

The rational part of your brain, albeit very small at this point, was yelling at you in protest. The rest of your very drunk brain ignored it, and you shrugged at the guy before grabbing the bottle.

“Fuck it.”

You threw your head back, pouring the tequila down your throat. You knew it was expensive because it didn’t burn as it went down, which led to you drinking more than you should have. The guy whooped as you took your last sip and handed him the bottle, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Oh fuck yeah! You’re pretty cool!”

He high fived you before heading to the next table. Your vision was beginning to swim, and you realized now that you shouldn’t have done that. Sucking in a breath, you closed your eyes to steady your breathing. Once it felt like the world was clearer, you slowly opened your eyes.

Professor Kujo was standing across the club, staring at you with an amused expression.

You blinked furiously. You were trashed, right?

Closing your eyes again, you shook your head furiously before opening one. Professor Kujo was still there, the image unchanged. Shame flooded through you, and you realized your Professor had seen you drinking underage.

Oh God, what if he lowers my grade because of this?!

Without thinking, you rushed into the dance floor. Anne’s warning floated through your ears, but you knew you needed to hide. A group of frat guys were near the middle, their tall figures allowing for you to crouch down a little. One of them noticed you and dragged you towards the circle, but you tried pushing him away.

Okay, no dancefloor.

You headed towards the hallway that led to the bathroom. The line was long, the end of it trailing into the main part of the club. Sighing, you turned around and decided to find Anne. It seemed even more crowded, and you realized it would be impossible. The dance floor seemed to be the only option, so you walked around the edge of it before you found a semi-empty spot you could hide in for now.

The shock of seeing Professor Kujo had sobered you up quite a bit. You were able to pay attention to your surroundings better, and you realized that the DJ was playing much better music. Bopping your head, you figured that getting back into the groove and dancing was all you could do right now. Letting go of your embarrassment, you let your body sway to the music.

You glanced around yourself in search of Anne or Professor Kujo. You didn’t see either of them, so you shrugged and kept dancing on. Anne was probably stuck at the bar with how crowded the club was, and you hoped that Professor Kujo would realize this was out of his realm and leave.

At least, you hoped he had left.

Why had your Professor been here in the first place?! Was he a secret party animal? Did he come here to have a drink and let go? Was this where he picked up girls?

For some reason, the last question bothered you. Scoffing, you furiously shook your head and forced yourself to focus on the music. Your dancing picked up, and you realized now you wanted to find a guy to take home to forget about your Professor. Glancing around you again, you realized most people were beyond drunk at this point and that there was no point in even approaching them. Sighing, you wondered if maybe it was time to go.

“You seem lost.”

A deep voice rumbled in your ear, causing you to jump. It sounded familiar, and you glanced over your shoulder to see Professor Kujo standing there. Now that he was closer, you were able to get a good look at him. He was wearing a black dress shirt tucked into dark pants, with a pair of sneakers finishing the look. His normally stoic face had a slightly amused look as he peered down at you.

“P-Professor Kujo,” you stammered out.

Gently taking your arm, he guided you off the dance floor and towards the back where more tables were. The music began to fade, and eventually he was able to talk to you without needing to be so close.

“What a surprise seeing you here,” he said.

“I could say the same about you,” you responded shyly.

He studied you for a long moment.

“Do you normally drink this much?”

Shit, he had seen you.

Without thinking, you blurted out, “Only after stressful exams.”

A slow smile tugged at his lips.

“Really? I expected someone as studious as you to not struggle with exams.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest. Had he been taking note of you this whole time?

“W-well,” you nervously laughed. “Even I have my flaws.”

“I doubt that.”

He examined you again, blue eyes seeming to soften the longer he looked at you.

“You fascinate me.”

You couldn’t help but stare back in response. After a moment he laughed, shaking his head before asking you questions about yourself. You fell into light conversation with him, surprised at how easily you two seemed to get along. He was asking you why you had chosen to study Marine Science when you felt your phone buzzing in your pocket.

“Sorry, give me a second.”

Anne had sent you a series of texts. The first had been asking where you were, before she began narrating a cute guy buying her a drink. The last text read sorry babe, you went MIA. Taking him home. Going back to his, so don’t wait up for me ;)

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, my roommate is going home with someone.”

He cocked his head to the side.

“Well, I hope that’s alright with you.”

You shrugged.

“Why don’t we go dance?”

Before you could respond, Professor Kujo grabbed your hand and began directing you towards the dance floor.

“P-Professor Kujo!” you yelled out over the music.

“Jotaro.”

He turned around to respond, leaning in towards you.

“Call me Jotaro.”

His hand never left your hips as you danced together. Despite this, he kept a respectable distance. It seemed he was more interested in seeing you move more than anything. You had tried a few times to turn around and grind on him, but he seemed reluctant to let you do so. He was able to follow along to the beat well, which surprised you given his large size. After a while, though, he began to move closer to you. The hand on your hip tightened, especially when he noticed other guys looking at you.

“It’s getting late. Are you doing okay?”

Your phone said it was near one. You were feeling fine, and you told Jotaro so.

“Well, how about we go back to my place?”

You responded with a slow nod. Jotaro reached for your hand, interlacing your fingers before leading you out of the club. Given how late it was, the temperature had dropped, and you shivered. Jotaro let go of your hand and instead wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close to his side. He slowed his pace to walk alongside you, and you breathed in his scent. He smelled . . . nice. Whatever cologne he was wearing was probably expensive.

The club only had valet parking, so he slipped his ticket to a worker and turned his head to look down at you.

“Are you hungry? Do you want anything to eat?”

You shook your head.

“Okay, we’ll just head straight to my place then.”

A few minutes later a sleek Audi pulled up. Jotaro opened the passenger door for you, and you slid in. He settled into the driver’s seat and took off. A part of you had wondered where your Professor lived. Did he live in the college town? Did he commute from outside of Monterey? There was a part of Monterey that was much wealthier than the rest, and you wondered if he was taking you there.

Jotaro was quick to turn on the heater, and you felt your body relaxing in the seat. The drive was quiet, the only sound soft jazz playing on his radio. He drove carefully, stopping properly at stop signs and never running any yellow lights. You noticed he was driving towards the freeway, and you figured he probably lived just outside the city in a nice suburb. Your mind ran wild, wondering if he lived humbly in a small apartment or condo or if he lived luxuriously in a large home.

Professors didn’t make money, right? Or were you being callous?

When you turned onto the freeway, Jotaro spoke, startling you from your reverie.

“You still doing okay?”

You nodded in affirmation, and he fell back into silence. The freeway was empty given the late hour, but he still kept on driving cautiously. You read each sign that you passed, watching everything fly by and continuing to imagine the home that you were being driven to. After about fifteen minutes of driving, you noticed he was exiting towards where the main beaches were located.

Okay, so definitely a house.

The smell of the ocean wafted through the car’s vents, and you breathed in the scent deeply. Even though it was late, the moon was shining just enough to illuminate the ocean softly. You watched in awe as the waves lapped towards the shore, the beach close enough that you could walk if you wanted to. Jotaro pulled off from the main street towards a smaller street, and you realized you were finally in his neighborhood.

“Sorry for the long drive. I wanted to make sure I was a decent distance from work.”

“This isn’t too far,” you assured him. “Plus, it’s a nice drive.”

He glanced at you from the side of his eyes as he spoke.

“It is.”

The streets were dark but his headlights lit them up. You took note of each house you drove by, your eyes getting wider with each one you passed. They all looked expensive, and you realized that Jotaro either came from money or was really good with money.

“We’re here. Let me open the gate.”

The home in front of you was quite possibly the most beautiful home you had ever seen. It was in a Cape Cod style, a neat white picket fence lining the lawn in front and leading up into the home. A small lawn sat to the right side of the home, with long, gray stairs leading up to the entrance. A small gazebo-like structure was built over the stairs right before the door, with a lamp illuminating the spot underneath. Jotaro pulled into the driveway, shutting the car off before slipping out. You followed him up the stairs, trailing behind him quietly as he unlocked the door and gestured for you to slip in.

The inside was just as beautiful. You followed him into the living room, where he sat down on the sofa. The living room had a door that led onto a patio where, not too far from it, the beach was. You sat carefully on the opposite edge of the sofa, glancing around you while Jotaro stared at you.

“Would you like a tour?”

You perked up and nodded. Chuckling, he stood and you followed him. The tour began in the dining room, where a table for twelve sat. Five vases filled with flowers sat in the middle, serving as decoration. The patio that you had seen from the living room ran alongside the dining room, and you could faintly hear the ocean in the distance. From there you went into the kitchen, a large open space with shiny appliances. You leaned against the island as he talked about the history of the house. He led you upstairs towards the bedrooms and bathrooms, showing you each individual one. The tour ended in his bedroom, a large room with a door that led right onto the sand.

“So? What do you think?”

“You have a beautiful home. How do you afford this?”

He sat at the edge of his bed.

“My parents helped me out. I also do a lot of research, so I have a pretty steady income.”

I’ll say.

Jotaro patted the spot beside him, and you nervously sat there. You glanced everywhere but at him, trying to memorize the details of his bedroom. A desk sat in the corner near the door leading outside, and it was stacked with various books on Marine Science. It seemed he worked hard at home just like he did at school.

“Hey.”

When you turned to look at him, his face was close to yours. You jumped back but he gently grabbed your waist, bringing you closer.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he spoke softly.

“I-it’s okay,” you replied.

“Why are you so nervous?”

You blinked up at him.

“Um, well you’re my professor.”

He slowly retracted his hand from your waist and looked away.

“If anything, I should be the nervous one here.”

He cleared his throat, seeming to gather himself before he turned to look at you again.

“I . . . have never slept with a student.”

You gave a slow nod.

“Okay?”

He studied you as he spoke.

“The only reason I went out to that club tonight was because I needed a drink and some noise to distract myself. Work has taken a lot out of me lately.”

“I’m guessing you don’t do that often?” you teased.

“Not at all,” he sighed. “But a coworker mentioned it was a place for a good time.”

You raised an eyebrow. Another professor said that? Maybe a TA . . .

“Anyways, what I’m trying to get at is . . .”

His hand resumed his previous position on your waist and his ocean eyes looked deep into yours.

“I am insanely attracted to you.”

“P-Profess - Jotaro,” you whispered.

“There’s something about you that’s drawn me since the beginning. You caught my eye on the first day, and your work ethic swayed me.”

He scooted closer to you.

“I think the alcohol I drank tonight has emboldened me. Normally I’m a very guarded person. I’m sure you’ve noticed that in lecture.”

“Oh, I definitely have,” you laughed.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Can I kiss you?”

You answered his question by leaning in forward and pressing your lips against his. He tasted faintly of beer mixed with what you could only assume was his natural taste. You let out a quiet groan into his mouth, your hand reaching up to rest on his shoulder. It didn’t take long for the kiss to become sloppy, and after a moment you both broke apart to catch your breath.

“Undress and on the bed. Now.”

You carefully slid off the bed and began removing your clothing. Jotaro watched you for a second before he began doing the same. Your eyes trailed his movements, watching as he yanked his dress shirt from his pants and swiftly began unbuttoning it. He revealed exquisite muscles, his abs rock hard and a happy trail peeking out from the top of his pants. You were slipping off your undergarments when he unzipped his pants, pulling them down his long legs and leaving him in his briefs, where his large erection strained against them.

“On the bed, lay down.”

Jotaro mirrored your movements and laid down beside you. You lay on your side as you reached for his face, pulling him into a kiss. As you kissed him your hands slid down to his hips, tucking your fingers into the waistband before pulling them down. His cock sprang out, and your eyes went wide upon seeing his immense size.

“Wow.”

He chuckled, watching you as you leaned over him. You hesitated before reaching for his cock with your right hand. It twitched as you made contact with it, and you heard Jotaro hiss under his breath. You wrapped your hand around it, mouth dropping in surprise as your hand didn’t fully wrap around it. Sucking in a breath to steady yourself, you began stroking him at a slow pace to start. Jotaro let out quiet groans as you kept on, and you glanced over to see his eyes shut. Smiling to yourself, you leaned over his chest and licked up a stripe along it before kissing it.

“Fuck.”

You felt his hand come up to rest on your shoulder, pulling you flush against him. Smirking, you picked up the pace, tilting your head to see the way his face was scrunched up in pleasure. Your hands moved faster but his hand shot out, preventing you from going on.

“I don’t want to finish yet. Let me take care of you instead.”

He pulled away from you, crawling off the bed. You were about to ask him what he was doing when you were suddenly yanked towards the end of the bed. Jotaro was kneeling on the floor, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Put your legs together.”

You obeyed him, pressing your legs together. His large hands shot out, holding onto the back of your thighs and pressing them up towards the ceiling. It took you a moment to realize he was about to go down on you, but before you could object his mouth was on you. Your hips tried to jerk up but his grip on your thighs was so strong you were basically immobilized. Moaning out his name, your hands fumbled slightly before tangling in his hair.

“J-Jotaro,” you gasped out. “Your mouth feels so good.”

He hummed against you, the vibrations sending a pleasurable shiver throughout your body. His tongue circled your clit before diving into your opening, trying to reach as deep into you as possible. Your fingers tightened around his hair, pulling him closer to you.

“Mmm, baby,” he groaned against you. “Pull harder.”

The combination of the vibrations and his words barreled your orgasm closer to you. You yanked harder and his mouth worked faster against yours. Stars began to dance behind your eyes, and when his mouth closed around your clit and sucked hard you came with a cry of his name. He continued to gently lap against you as your body shook under him, hands still holding onto his hair before letting go as you melted into the sheets.

“You’re really good with your mouth,” you managed to mumble out.

Jotaro chuckled as he stood off, stroking himself to the sight of you below him. Your eyes were closed, and you felt his breath ghosting over your mouth before he kissed you.

“Can you move?”

Nodding, you cracked open one eye. He jerked his head towards the middle of the bed, and you slowly settled there. You looked up at him as he knelt on the bed, towering over you as he continued to stroke himself.

“Do I need to get a condom?”

You shook your head.

“No, I’m on birth control. Plus I haven’t been with anyone in a long time.”

He nodded, his right hand grabbing onto the back of your left thigh.

“We can stop. You just tell me the word, and I will.”

“Jotaro,” you frowned. “I want this. Are you going to fuck me or not?”

He grabbed his cock and began aligning himself with your entrance.

“You asked for it.”

You opened your mouth to give him a teasing remark but cried out instead. He was huge, and even though he had prepped you by eating you out and giving you an orgasm it still stung. His hand continued to hold onto your thigh, spreading your leg open to allow himself to fuck into you deeper. Your hand came up to hold onto it, your other hand supporting your head with each thrust.

“You’re so big,” you whined out.

Jotaro smirked and gave a hard thrust in response. You felt his balls smacking against your ass, and you realized you wanted him to fill you up until you were brimming and spilling out.

“Damn, I didn’t realize you were that perverted.”

Your eyes shot open. Shit, had you said that out loud?!

“I can do that for you, baby. You want me to breed you? Fill you up? Make you a Mommy?”

You bit your lip, feeling yourself clench around him. Fuck, maybe you were perverted.

“I’ll take your pussy’s response as a yes.”

He leaned down to grab your other leg before pushing your legs over his shoulders. The new angle had him slipping in even deeper, and you were practically screaming at this point. You were thankful his neighbors were really far apart because you were sure that a noise complaint or even the cops would be called.

“Fuck, you just got even tighter,” Jotaro panted out.

Your mind was completely blank as your second orgasm began to form deep in your core. Mouth lolling open you tried to tell him but a string of slurred words came out instead.

“Have I really fucked you that stupid?” he laughed.

You tightened around him in response, cutting his laugh off.

“Fuck, I’m about to come. You better take everything I give you.”

His words were the bullet that set your orgasm off, your voice cracking as you moaned out his name. You felt him finish inside of you, feeling warm as he filled you up with his cum. His arms were shaking as he gently let go of your legs, letting them fall back onto the bed. When he pulled out you let out a whine, feeling a little of his cum slipping out. A large finger pushed it back in, and you heard him click his tongue.

" Can’t waste it, baby.”

He laid beside you, sweating and panting. Your mind was woozy, already beginning to drift off to sleep. A part of you knew you should get up to clean yourself up but you were exhausted from the drinking, dancing, late hour, and the intense sex you had just had.

“You okay?”

You gave Jotaro a weak thumbs up, to which he chuckled.

“I would offer to run a bath but you look tired.”

You gave another thumbs up. He carefully lifted you, cradling you as he pulled the covers back and gently laid you back down. The pillows were comfy around your head, and the warmth of the blankets plus Jotaro pulling you against him lulled you to sleep. Just as you were drifting off, you heard him whisper into your hair.

“I hope you don’t think this is a one-time thing. I want to get to know more of you.”

As much as you wanted to respond you couldn’t, instead replying by curling into his side and pressing a lazy kiss against his chest. Seemingly satisfied, Jotaro kissed your head, the two of you falling into a deep sleep.

[basketballanonsblog]

Save the first dance (for me)

Nayeon x reader

A/n: so I finished writing this wayyy earlier than I thought. I don't celebrate Christmas, so this is all I can offer as a gift 🎁 my first Nayeon x reader. I started thinking about a certain movie from the 90s, which is the main inspiration for this. Twice also made a reference to this in one of their mv. Like most of my ideas, I conjured it whilst in the shower 🤷🏽‍♀️

There is mild angst, but not that much.

Synopsis: What else can you do but run to the woman who has been waiting so patiently for you?

-◇-

You scrambled around your room, making sure you had everything.

The flight was in an hour, and everything seemed to be going wrong.

From sleeping through the alarm to spending a good half an hour looking for the passport you could've sworn you put on the bedside table the night before.

Nevertheless, you made it. You were finally on your way back to Korea.

"Excuse me." Your poor seat mate nearly dropped their phone in shock. "Sorry didn't mean to startle you, can I just get past?"

She just stared wide eyed at you. It was unnerving.

"I'll take that as a no."

You didn't ask again, but waited until they fell asleep. Carefully, you climbed over her, but you didn't factor in the possibility of your foot getting stuck.

Which, of course, it did.

Surprisingly, no one was awoken by the commotion of you falling over.

Now, that would've been embarrassing.

What you hadn't realised was that the girl saw and had to hold in her laughter.

-◇-

You stood in front of her apartment building. You knew the code since you lived together, but you physically couldn't bring yourself to go in.

Later, you thought. She may not even be home.

You were wandering around when you saw her again. The woman from the plane.

"We meet again..." She looked around to see if there were other people there.

"Eun Jung."

"Y/n."

"Did you find your sweetheart?" You were surprised, you did mention your significant other but you thought Eun Jung wasn't listening since she didn't respond to any attempt of conversation.

"Not yet."

"I know a lot of people, maybe I know her."

"Considering she's Im Nayeon, I think a lot of people know her."

"You dated Im Nayeon?!"

"Yes."

Eun Jung was starting to piece together what happened and wanted to help.

Even if it was out of pity.

"Come on, I know where she is."

-◇-

Turns out, Twice has a performance outside today.

The two of you stayed far behind the crowd and seeing her again made you feel many things.

She was smiling, but she wasn't entirely happy. You noticed the ring on her left hand.

A year later, she still wore it.

It was time to face the truth.

"She- " you glanced at your hands, hands you didn't want to admit were translucent. "She can't see me can she?"

"No. No one can."

"Except you." She hummed in confirmation.

"Don't ask why because I don't know."

"I guess that explains why you don't respond when others are around."

You continued watching the group when an idea occurred.

"Let me borrow your body." The poor woman almost choked on her water.

Okay, maybe you shouldn't have been so abrupt.

"Eh?!"

"She might be able to see me if I'm in a person's body."

"I don't think it's a good idea. What if you get stuck? A lot of things can go wrong."

She was right, but it didn't help in making you feel any less dejected.

Eun Jung began to feel guilty for shooting your idea down, when she turned to apologise, you were gone.

-◇-

It didn't take long to find you again since you ended up near the Han River.

You two took in the view of the sunset.

"She's - was my fiancée. We were supposed to marry last summer, but a month before the wedding I had to go overseas for work. I tried hard to get out of it but couldn't. Thankfully, I managed to wrap things up a week early. I booked an earlier flight to surprise her, but obviously, I never made it back home."

"You're here now though, I think that means something. We need to see Nayeon."

"It's pointless if she can't see or hear me."

"Shush. I won't accept any negativity. Now hurry up."

I'll get you two closure, even if it's the last thing I do.

-◇-

Ghosts are useful in getting into places you shouldn't be. I'll remember that.  Eun Jung thought to herself as the both of you stood in front of Nayeon's apartment.

You were definitely trespassing but that was the least of your worries.

Nayeon answered the door, and all you wanted was to hold her.

"Hello ma'am. You're probably wondering who and why I'm bothering you at this hour. I knew y/n, I'd like to offer my condolences.

Her plan worked when Nayeon beckoned her inside.

The other members were there too, and she had to resist asking for an autograph. It was amusing to see your new friend starstruck.

At first, Nayeon was eager to talk about you, but something was off. There were too many inconsistencies. It made her suspicious about the stranger in her home.

As politely as she could, she tried to usher Eun Jung out, making her resort to plan b.

"Y/n is here! She's been here the whole time."

"Is that supposed to be funny, mocking her?"

"Please, you have to believe me. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn't trying to help y/n."

The other members stepped in, getting ready to call the police. Eun Jung was getting desperate. She tried to wrack her brain for a solution, but there was only one she could think of.

"Ugh, fine! You can do it." But she wasn't talking to them.

"What?" You asked.

"Your brilliant idea from earlier."

"Really?"

"Yes! Now hurry before I change my mind. They're starting to think I'm crazy because in their eyes, I'm talking to myself."

"Thank you. I owe you one."

"Yeah, you do."

Your spirit jumped into her, causing a glow. It almost felt weird to be back in a human body.

Nayeon felt her legs give out. Fortunately, the members supported her. They looked at you in disbelief.

"Nayeon."

"Y/n."

Cautiously, she approached you and with the gentleness she has missed terribly, you cupped her cheek.

The world faded away when you kissed. She kissed you softly, but the passion wasn't absent. You kissed through each other's tears, and you kissed over and over until your lungs were begging for air.

She hugged you tightly when you broke apart.

"I missed you so much."

"And I you, my love. I couldn't leave yet when I owe you a dance."

"Hold that thought."

She ran to the bedroom, re-emerging a few minutes later in her wedding dress.

"You never got to see me wearing this until now." You broke down at that. You were robbed of the chance to see her walk down the aisle.

Not a dry eye anywhere, as the members too teared up.

Music filled the apartment as you danced. It was the song that would've played for your first dance as wives.

In the blink of an eye, it was over. However, neither of you let go.

That is until you started shining. You've found closure, and now it was time for your soul to be fully put to rest.

"My love -"

"No. Don't go, please stay. I can't lose you a second time."

"I can't stay like this forever. That would be unfair to Eun Jung." You separated from your friend, leaving her slightly disorientated. Being a host body for a ghost was exhausting. She felt everything you did.

Your spirit emitted so much light. Everyone could see you now.

"It's okay, Nayeon. You don't have to feel guilty about moving on. Promise me you won't be afraid to find happiness."

"I promise." You couldn't wipe away her tears this time. "I love you."

"I love you too."

With one more look and smile at everyone, you faded away for the last time.

Nayeon drew strength from the ones who held and stood by her through this.

She would not break her final promise to you.

[sebastiansluts]

Babe, are still up with the lollipop play or popsicle play? If so i still stick with my idea where reader and Bucky or Seb spending a hot summer day by the pool lounging on the pool chair, reader decided to tease him by sucking the lollipop or the popsicle like she sucked his c*ck but He had enough and take the lollipop or popsicle out of your mouth and punish you with it until you're squirting multiple times

Sorry this took so long! But inspiration has finally struck I think, and anyways I hope you like it!

Bucky Barnes x Reader; object play- lollipop, object insertion- lollipop, object oral sex/deepthroating- lollipop, clit play, vaginal fingering, squirting

ANY HATE WILL BE DELETED THIS IS A JUDGEMENT FREE ZONE DON’T LIKE, DON’T INTERACT; MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+

It was a hot summer day and while you and Bucky were both lounging by the pool in the backyard in your swimsuits, you also had a lollipop. It was one of those long unicorn horn ones but it was thick, meant to last longer.

It was your favorite flavor, and you couldn't stop licking at it, sucking the tip for a while with your eyes closed. A shifting next to you had your lip quirking but you didn't move other than to suck a little harder at the candy.

After a minute went by with no sound, you started to frown so you decided to have a little fun. You slowly pushed the lollipop into your mouth until it nudged the back of your throat.

You coughed lightly, tasting it, and pushed onwards, until you were carefully throating the treat. You held it for a moment then slowly pulled it back, until just the tip was in your mouth again and you grinned as you swallowed hard, delighting in the taste.

A sudden shadow loomed over you and your lollipop was ripped from your mouth and hand. You frowned, pouting as you looked up at Bucky. He was standing next to your lounge chair, blocking out the sun and glaring at you. He held your lollipop in his regular fist and you glanced at it, then back at Bucky, hoping he'd get the hint.

"You want this? This fuckin' near fake cock of a candy?" Bucky asked harshly, and you flinched as he gestured with it, relaxing as he moved to sit on the chair, shifting your legs. You eagerly reached for him, your legs spread and draped over his as he sat facing you, his cock clearly visible through his swim trunks.

Bucky pushed you back against the lounge with his vibranium hand, holding you down easily as you struggled just to feel the power from him.

"You're such a fuckin' slut, suckin' this like it's the best thing you've ever tasted when we both know that's not true." Bucky was nudging your bathing suit bottoms aside with the lollipop, running the tip up and down your folds.

You squirmed even more turned on and desperate already, but Bucky kept teasing you, edging just the tip between your lower lips, an inch inside you, before withdrawing and rubbing circles around your clit, never touching.

"Bucky! Please, I need- more," you gasped as Bucky swiftly inserted the lollipop, pressing steadily but slowing down the more he added. "S'not enough," you whimpered, as you felt his fist rest against your pussy.

"Like I said, a fuckin' slut!" Bucky punctuated each word with a thrust, making you cry out as something inside you was hit, and liquid came squirting out of you. You clenched hard as Bucky grinned, pulling the candy back and thrusting again, making you squirt again.

He pulled the lollipop out of your pussy, it sticky with your slick now, and removed his vibranium hand from your chest at the same time, moving it down between your legs and pressing two fingers into your pussy.

Your back arched, Bucky searching for that spot again, as he began tapping your clit with the lollipop with his other hand. You cried out as his fingers found it, pressing against your walls and making them clench as you squirted again, longer this time as the taps on your clit helped to stimulate.

You were sure there was a puddle forming beneath you by now from how much Bucky had pulled from you. Your body was limp by the time he was satisfied, pulling away as you twitched lightly. Your bathing suit bottoms were soaked through, and you just felt sticky.

"C'mon doll, have a final lick of your candy then let's swim," Bucky said as you tried to sit up, holding your lollipop out in front of you, not letting you off his lap.

You narrowed your eyes at him, then leaned in and sucked the tip of the candy into your mouth, swirling your tongue around and down until you were thoroughly tasting yourself mixed with the candy. You pulled off with a pop and Bucky glared at you, leaning and grabbing the back of your neck as he kissed you with bruising force, sharing the taste with you.

"Guess you need a second lesson," Bucky muttered into the kiss, and you grinned as he shifted the two of you to the side and stood up, keeping hold of you as he walked to the deep end of the pool.

You realized his plan and started struggling, but his hold was too strong. He just laughed and wrapped you around him tighter, before saying, "Hold your breath doll." He waited until you took a deep breath, then jumped into the pool, holding you securely, before immediately pushing you back up to the surface.

He came up moments after you, and pulled you back into his arms, laughing as you pouted, grumbling, "I liked the first lesson better."

[nieded]

Writing in 2024

Every year, I try and do a blog post about the things I've written in 2024, how I felt about it all, and if I learned anything. This year, it really didn't feel like I had done a lot until I went back and looked at my AO3. Then I realized I had actually written a ton, a whopping 80,000 words worth.

So beneath the cut, I'll break this down into three categories: Zines, #RR, and FTH.

Zines

Some of these fics I wrote in 2023, but I didn't post them until 2024 due to exclusivity rules, but I'll include them in this list. After the rush of Season 2, I signed up for as many zines as possible. I had the fever, and the only cure was more zines! I also had some insane executive functioning fairy (who would abandon me by summer), who inspired me to write, edit, and submit everything on time. Wild.

Wartime Correspondence, 1.5k, Teen, for Pin Me Up Vol. 2 - featuring pin-up Aziraphale!

In Good Faith, 1.7k ,Teen, for Twin Passions: A Bildad Zine - a missing scene from Job

The Thing With Feathers, 2.6k, Gen, for In Love With My Car Vol. 2 - a fic about reconciling post-S2 ft. wonderful artwork by Cat_Clawz

Best In Show, 1.4k Gen, for It Began In A Garden - where an angel and a demon enjoy retirement in the South Downs, ft incredible artwork by eglantine-c

and my favorite because Warlock lives forever rent free in my head

Falling Upwards, 2.1k, Gen, for Above Below and the Common Ground - an epistolary fic about Warlock and Crowley reuniting post-S2.

#RAINBOWROAD

Simultaneously, I was posting the final installment of #RR, 0-60 in 3.5, 49k, Teen.

I had intended to end the series with Fools Rush In, so I treat all of this as bonus content. Think of it like DVD extras. There's a very loose plot. It's basically me shitposting right up until the end. I had so much fun sharing this with everyone!

I also need to shout out @literarion, who just finished posting the #RR podfic. She has been working on it for over a year, and posting literally took all year from January to December. She never said it, but I did worry she wanted to murder me when I said I had written another part.

Lit, in my opinion, is the shining example of the talent, creativity, and generosity in the Good Omens fandom. The fact that she creates these podfics that are so high quality and makes fic accessible for more people is really fucking cool. It was also incredible for me to hear my words sound like sports broadcasts and TV interviews.

I've written a lot about how overwhelmed I get when I think about all the people who have contributed to the #RR universe, but I do want to say it again. Thank you.

Fandom Trumps Hate

Then, right around the time I wrapped up all the zines and #RR, I signed up for Fandom Trumps Hate. This was my first year doing it, and it was such a fun experience! I am floored by the generosity of people. It was also incredible to take direct prompts and brainstorm ideas with everyone. None of the final products were at all like I imagined in the beginning, but I think that goes to show the liquid nature of writing sometimes.

That said, when I started FTH, I was coming off the high of finishing all these other projects and feeling extremely productive. This summer, however, I was hit with the most severe, longest bout of depression I've experienced. I came off of several medications. My dog got cancer. Every ounce of energy I had I channeled into existing. I would have given anything to have the ability to write, but I couldn't.

Just when I finally got my feet under myself, I was offered a promotion. It was October. My boss took me out for coffee one random Monday and offered me a position I had been applying for, for years. I was excited and also stressed out because I knew I would be taking on a lot of responsibility at a time when my life felt very tenuous, but it was also an oportunity I could not miss.

FTH was heavy on my mind. In true ADHD fashion, the stress of starting a new job kicked my butt into gear. I had been slowly plugging along on all the fics over the summer but ended up reworking every single one of them. And each fic was wildly different from the other.

This also gave me the opportunity to explore a couple of ideas I had turning over in my brain for quite some time.

Let it run, 7.6k, Explicit, for Ambra - body shop/mechanic AU. Ambra wanted something hyper specific, and y'all know I love infodumping about cars. This was a really fun way to show the mundane side of cars because truthfully, I do tire writing about Ferraris and McLarens. This is so closely aligned to the life I live.

We know what we are but not what we may be, 5.3k Gen, for lynn99999 - an outsider POV fic from the perspective of Lesley, the International Express Man, who has to deliver a message to Heaven. Man, admittedly, this was both the hardest and easiest fic to write. The prompt was about a lost package inspired by lynn99999 #RR's books getting lost in the mail. I had so many ideas that I had started and scrapped, but once I landed on the final premise, I had the rough draft done in two days. Humans interacting with the Ineffables is my favorite canon trope.

Might have gone, but what for?, 5k, Explicit, for joyeousness - a 1941 fic. Hey, do you want something sad??? Many years ago, I decided I would only write happy endings (and happy endings *wink wink wink*) even though I love writing angst. So for that reason, I think this story is incomplete because it ends on an unresolved note. After S2, I had this idea churning in my brain on repeat. When I ran it by joyeousness, and they gave me the green light, I was excited to get it down in words. And yep, it ended up being as brutal as I imagined.

Under Pressure, 6.5k, Teen, for She_Jedi - in which Remy (from SDU) and Warlock (from Ground Control) meet. Let's be real. I know it says this is a gift for She_Jedi, but they really did me a favor by letting me write this. Originally, they wanted a continuation of Ground Control, and I had been sitting on this idea of having Remy, an OC from another Good Omens fic I wrote, meet Warlock. I wrote these two series around the same time, and clearly I was going through something since I wrote so much about fucking postgraduate education. I was in my pre-F1 / post-grad-school-traumatized-professional phase. So it was really fun to revisit this when both Remy and Warlock were a little older. I mean, yeah, writing is just one big projection, and I'm staring in the mirror.

2025

My goal next year is honestly to read more. I usually do a companion post with all the fic I've read through the year, and I rarely read anything in 2024. I hate that. A lot. So if you have a fic you desperately want to share, please reblog or drop a comment!

I also potentially have a silly little #RR fic in the pipeline. Maybe.