#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.

[norrizzandpia]

So American (OB38)

Summary: To the song So American by Olivia Rodrigo. In which a Brit and an American fall so deeply in love with each other.

Warnings: suggestive scenes, language, so much fluff omg, reader is from America (specifically California), reader wants to be a writer and loves Jane Austen, reader loves London, idk if you can tell yet but this is HEAVILY indulgent, reader goes to University of San Francisco (that part is not self indulgent lol)

Note: I couldn’t help myself ive had this idea for too long, my debut Ollie Bearman fic! I hope you like it because i do 🤭

Eighteen and baby-faced, Y/n thought her trip to London with her best friends would be fun and outrageous. She expected when they touched down in Heathrow that the trip would bring countless amounts of unique memories. It was part of their celebration of completion in their first year in college, a week-long trip to one of their favorite places to welcome the desperately needed summer.

None of them expected for Y/n to slam into a tall body when they were running to a musical before the doors closed and none of them expected that tall body to be that of another eighteen year old who found the short, American girl too cute to tear his eyes away from.

Ollie hadn’t been expecting much when he decided to take a day trip into London, wanting to spend the day wandering around one of his favorite cities. Though, when his eyes graced him the vision of y/h/c hair and a flushed girl frazzled in front of him, he knew it would be one to remember.

She was short, almost too short as his neck craned down to meet her eyes and the two murmured out apologies as he knelt down to pick up her bag that had dropped when they both rounded the same corner too fast.

Her ID slipped out, California’s name in bold letters right at the top and made Ollie laugh.

”American?” He smiled as Y/n’s friends glanced at each other from the side.

Y/n grinned, “Yep, American.”

Part of him knew getting into business with someone who lived on another continent couldn’t be smart, but he couldn’t bear to think of not seeing her again. Her beauty struck him and there were no thoughts in his mind when he asked for her number when she mumbled something about having to leave.

Y/n’s wide eyes turned around to meet his once more, “My number?”

Ollie nodded, his hand in his pocket and clutching his phone, “Your number.”

Her friends behind her giggled before shoving her toward the British boy who they had no idea was not your average or normal eighteen year old. Y/n took his phone lightly and pressed the correct digits. When she returned it, her name staring back at him, he blushed, “Y/n. That’s cute.”

Her cheeks warmed just like his as her friends began tugging on her hand and yelling about making the showtime, “What’s your name?!” She yelled as they dragged her away.

He waved with a beam, “Ollie!”

Ollie. That’s cute.

—

That summer, Y/n never went back to California. The moment she began talking with Ollie and he began taking her out on dates before she was supposed to leave, she knew there would be no way she could leave him. She canceled her flight back after Ollie had begged her to stay, and told her friends they needed to go back without her, that there was something more she needed to explore in London.

The girls had anticipated it, honestly. When they had seen the dazed grin on their friend’s face every time she came back from seeing the boy, they knew there was not enough willpower to hold her back from changing plans.

She would come back for the next school year, but it was clear if things went well, which they seemed they would be, she would stay for the summer.

And that she did.

Ollie forced her around all of England, showing her his favorite nooks and crannies of the country he grew up in. They would spend hours in his car as he drove her around, to the end of the country and back, just so she could experience his favorite view too. Their moments spent together forced the two to get to know each other wholly. Y/n found out about his racing career, gaped at him when he mentioned his Formula 1 race, and Ollie found out about her mundane life as a student at University of San Francisco. Honestly, he loved how regular she was. He craved her stories of college parties and nights spent up until three AM trying to turn in a paper. He loved her life stories. She loved his. They made for a good duo.

When the end of the two months drew near, tears were shed and words of distance were stressed. As they stood at the entrance to Heathrow, Ollie held Y/n in his arms and promised to find another time for her to come visit him, or one where he would come visit her. He was insistent and while they wouldn’t say it then, they were already in love.

That proved true a few months later, after calls and texts back and forth, when Y/n turned up at Heathrow once more. She was on Christmas break, one that granted her time to see her boyfriend, and while her family had been supportive of her skipping the holiday to go see someone that clearly made her so happy, she still felt a bit guilty to cancel. Though, that feeling diminished when she descended down the escalator and found Ollie holding a large sign with her name on it in pinks and greens, a large smile on his face as she yelped out and sprinted toward him.

“OLLIE!” Her bags dropped and she flew into his arms as he yelled her name back, the sign he had worked so hard on thrown to the floor the moment she got close.

He kissed her cheek and the two were looked upon adoringly by bystanders in the airport as he gently set her down on the ground, kissing her softly and whispering how much he had missed her.

When he led her out of the doors, all her belongings in his hands, they smiled brightly at each other as if to confirm how much they would make this month worth their while.

—

Drivin’ on the right-side road, he says I’m pretty wearin’ his clothes. And he's got hands that make hell seem cold. Feet on the dashboard, he’s like a poem I wish I wrote. I wish I wrote.

Ollie clutched Y/n’s thigh as he drove to their favorite spot, one he had shown her during the summer. Her head lulled to the side, staring at him lightly and lovingly right when he glanced at her, his eyes roaming over her body.

Her eyebrows pulled together, “What?”

He smirked, “You look pretty wearing my clothes.” His fingers traced up her stomach to tug on his sweatshirt that adorned her upper body. The way it draped largely over her made his heart warm and how she had the hood pulled up over her messy hair made him want to pull the car over and kiss her silly.

She looked cozy. Cozy enough that his hand traveled under the material to rest around her waist. His warm hands made her feel more sleepy, the clock in the car reading a time too early, as she cuddled further into herself. Ollie noticed the yawn that drew from her and smiled to himself, his eyes averting back to the lonely road they were on.

“Can I put my feet on the dash?” She murmured, eyes closing and head tucking further into his sweatshirt.

Ollie patted her leg, “Sure, baby. I’ll wake you up when we’re there.”

He turned the music down enough for her to find sleep again and when her phone pinged beside him, he glanced down randomly. His head had snapped back up before he could genuinely realize the notification he had seen. When it dawned on him what he might’ve seen, his eyes drifted down once more and tapped the screen to see it again.

A notification from In-n-Out stayed put on her screen and he stifled a laugh before whispering, “Oh, she’s so American.”

—

And he laughs at all my jokes and he says I’m so American. Oh God, it’s just not fair of him to make me feel this much. I’ll go anywhere he goes and he says I’m so American. Oh God, I’m gonna marry him if he keeps this shit up. I might just be in lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-love.

Ollie howled from laughter as Y/n giggled, her joke going over better than she expected. She knew it was funny, but she didn’t think the red in his face from not breathing was necessary. Still, she admired the way he admired her and went along with his hysterics. When his breathing regulated and his hunched over position came back to a seated one on the cold bench in Hyde Park, her stares were finally noticed by him.

”What?” He asked, arm wrapping around her shoulder as he shoved a piece of croissant in his mouth. He offered the last piece to Y/n and she took it, murmuring before putting it in her mouth, “Nothing. You just think I’m funny.”

Ollie’s eyebrows rose and he blew out a breath, “I think you’re hilarious.”

”I wonder how much you’ll laugh with me when you’re wasted.” Y/n’s head cocked to the side as she lost herself to thoughts.

Ollie giggled, “Probably an annoying amount when I’m pissed.”

Y/n’s jaw dropped in horror, “Not when you’re pissed! Don’t pee yourself!”

The couple turned to each other in confusion, Ollie fully taken aback, “Who said anything about peeing themselves?!”

Y/n jabbed a finger into his chest, “You did!”

Ollie pushed her softly, his hand on her waist drawing her back to him, “No, I didn’t!”

Her head fell into his chest in a fit of laughter, “Yes! I was talking about getting drunk and then you just brought up pissing yourself!”

In a moment of realization, Ollie found himself howling with laughter again. His hands clutched her frozen ones in the midst of winter before he got out, “It means the same thing! Wasted and pissed! Drunk!”

Her mouth fell open as she began to understand. Then, she pulled a face, “Why would you British people say pissed? That’s weird.”

Ollie gasped with a smile, “Hey! Don’t be rude.”

She crossed her arms, “You’re the one that insinuated peeing yourself.”

Ollie groaned and scrambled from the seat, running away from her with loud laughter, “Get away from me, American!”

She got up, rushing after him, with strangers giving them questionable looks as they began running through the bushes and trees of Hyde Park,

As she followed after him, his smile getting caught in her mind, she realized she had never felt this way about anyone. Sure, she had had guys in the past, but none of them compared to Ollie. The time they spent together, whether over the phone or in the actual presence of the other, always left her with a fuzzy feeling. A fuzzy feeling she always wanted to feel. The idea of forever was premature, but she was beginning to believe she was in love with the boy running away from her and jokingly berating her for being American. If she was in love, why not entertain the idea of marriage in her daydreams?

When she reached him, falling into his arms roughly with continued giggles, he leaned in and kissed her softly. The look in Ollie’s eyes when he pulled back made her think he might just be in love with her too.

Maybe they could entertain the idea of marriage in their daydreams together.

—

God, I’m so boring and I’m so rude. Can’t have a conversation if it’s not all about you; the way you dress and the books you read. I really love my bed, but, man, it's hard to sleep when he’s with me, when he’s with me.

Y/n brushed her teeth in the white of Ollie’s bathroom, his parents having generously let her stay in their home during her stay for Christmas. Her best friend, Charlotte, stared back at her from the phone. Their FaceTime had just started and Y/n hadn’t waited to say any greetings before jumping into rambling about Ollie.

”Charlotte, I’m so obsessed with him. I think it’s unhealthy.” She laughed, Charlotte laughing with her. Ollie eavesdropped on the other side of the door. “He’s so sweet and attentive. He remembers all the little things and even suggests things he thinks I’ll love. Which I always do. The other day, we were walking around Sussex and he saw this small book in a window and forced me into the shop. Turns out he had found a Jane Austen Pride and Prejudice First Edition. He told me he remembered how much I loved that movie and that storyline. He even referenced exact sentences that I had said in the midst of my rant about how much I love Jane Austen books. I looked at the price tag, holy shit, Char, it was so expensive. I made him leave the store immediately because the look on his face told me he needed no convincing in buying it for me. I thought I was in the clear, but apparently he’s friends with the owner of that store, so he went in early the morning after, while I was still asleep, and bought it for me. He surprised me with it along with breakfast in bed. I almost cried, Char. He’s even started reading it with me because he knows how much I love it.”

Charlotte’s eyes twinkled at the look on her friend’s face. Charlotte loved Ollie for the way he treated Y/n. “That is fucking insane. This man is in love with you, Y/n.”

Ollie’s heart exploded in his chest from the other side of the door. He had been caught.

Y/n’s whispering was loud enough for him to hear, “I think I’m in love with him too. I can’t get over his smile and his favorite pair of shoes that he most definitely needs to repurchase. I love his humor and how much he wants to make me happy. I love how he makes me feel so wanted and important. I love everything about him from his ratty Ferrari sweatshirt to the moles on his cheek.”

Ollie almost started giggling, jumping up and down like a schoolgirl, at her confession. He was ecstatic. This feeling was better than when he scored points in his first Formula 1 race. Yet, he didn’t want to let her know he knew yet. He wanted to plan something, something big that would show how serious he was about her.

The two friends hung up the phone after Y/n realized what time it was and rattled off to Charlotte about Ollie waiting for her in bed. Charlotte tried not to point out the suggestive nature of her statement, but she failed. “Use protection!” She yelped just as the phone hung up. Y/n stood in the threshold to Ollie’s bedroom, him staring back at her as the two took in Charlotte’s warning.

Ollie flopped down into the sheets, Y/n falling right into his arms. He kissed her neck and whispered, “She doesn’t need to worry. We will.”

They wouldn’t end up falling asleep until far into the night.

—

I apologize if it’s a little too much, just a little too soon, but if the conversation ever were to come up I don’t want to assume this stuff. But, ain’t it love? I think I’m in love.

Ollie couldn’t wait to tell her. Let her know that he felt the same way. And Y/n couldn’t wait to tell him about her most favorite idea, one she had come up in the wake of telling her best friend how much she loved her boyfriend. Neither of them knew the other had something so serious to discuss as they drove down the quiet street. Ollie had shoved her in the car, telling her he was taking her to a picnic under the stars. He threw his coat over her, taking his other for himself, and drove the few minutes before arriving at the open grass area near his house. He helped her out of the car, leading her to the trunk to get the box of food his mother had helped him make in preparation for this, and found a perfect spot with the clearest view of the sky.

The cold, winter air made them curl into each other, creating the perfect amount of warmth to stay. Y/n didn’t know how to breach her topic as they popped spoonfuls of soup into their mouths. Ollie beat her to it.

“Can I tell you something?” He whispered, finding her soft eyes.

She nodded, “Of course, baby.”

He sighed, putting his soup off to the side and trying to rid his body of unnecessary nerves. He knew she felt the same. Still, his hands shook slightly, not from the cold, “You have completely wrecked my life. You were so unexpected and not something I was ever anticipating, but I am so happy you fell into my life, Y/n. I will always look back on that moment at that random corner in London with so much love because…” He took a deep breath, “I love you and that was the start of you and me.”

Y/n’s face beamed and she set her soup down, throwing herself into Ollie. He fell backward, the two falling into a heap of limbs on the blanket below them. She kissed his face all over with sloppy, lovesick kisses, “Ollie! I love you too!”

He would never get over how her voice sounded whenever she said his name. Sure, she had said it in annoyed manners before when he had ticked her off, but, even then, he loved the way her accent sounded around the syllables. Never did he think he would be putting American accents first before British ones on his list of most beloved accents. Though, he was beginning to find that her smiling face was getting him to do a lot of crazy things lately. Like, buying a book worth thousands of dollars and reading it along with her. Chilling.

She tapped the back of his palms before tugging lightly on his fingers, “I have something to run past you.”

He nodded, pulling her between his legs and stroking her back. She let her legs wrap around his waist as they continued to sit on the blanket, “You know how much I want to be a writer? The reason why I’m studying English and everything?”

Ollie continued nodding, tilting his head as to tell her he had no clue where this was going.

She cleared it up quickly, however, when she nervously rambled, “What if I transferred to a UK university?”

Ollie’s heart almost flew from his chest, “Like, move here?”

She gave a small smile, “Yeah. I mean, I’ve always wanted to move here and study here. I love it here. But, now,” She kissed his lips, “I have more of a reason to. Would that be something you’d be okay with?”

He scoffed, “Would that be something I’d be okay with?! Fuck, yeah! Oh my God, Y/n, please move here. Holy shit, move here.” He begged with the cheekiest grin on his face.

She laughed, “Okay, okay. I still have to be accepted, but I have good chances with my grades and everything.”

Ollie shook her body lightly, “No, you’ll be accepted. If I start a manifestation journal specifically for this, would you judge me?”

Y/n cackled, “No, go right ahead. Tap into that spiritual force, Bearman.”

He kissed her hard, happy it seemed to work out for them. God, he wanted it to work out for them so bad.

—

And he laughs at all my jokes and he says I’m so American. Oh God, it’s just not fair of him to make me feel this much. I’ll go anywhere he goes and he says I’m so American. Oh God, I’m gonna marry him if he keeps this shit up. I might just be in lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-love.

ONE YEAR LATER

Y/n walked down the street to her dorm, a quizzical look etched into her face as she rounded the corner and ran into a hard body. Her eyes found his familiar ones from her position below him and his smile welcomed her home after a long day.

Ollie laughed, “We have got to stop meeting like this.”

She tucked herself under his arm as they began walking, “You just need to stop walking so fast.”

He laughed at her comment before leaning down and kissing her cheek, “How was your day?”

She groaned, “So long. English in a UK university is much more in depth than I was expecting. It puts American colleges to shame. Plus, for lunch, the waiter screwed up my order.”

Ollie frowned, “Oh, no. What’d they mess up?”

Y/n gave him a sad smile, “I asked for chips with my sandwich and they gave me French fries.”

There was silence before Ollie shook his head with a soft smile, “Baby, French fries are chips here.”

She stopped dead in her tracks, “What do you mean?”

He playfully rolled his eyes, “No one says French fries here. If you want that, it’s chips.”

She stood in front of him in a stance that suggested this was an outrage. He chuckled at her, “Then, what do I say if I want chips?!”

He pushed her hair away from her face lovingly, “Crisps, love.”

She huffed and turned away, walking down the sidewalk before he quickly caught up with her. She grumbled from under his arm, “You need to teach me these crazy discrepancies.”

Ollie nodded and kissed her hair, “It’s not my fault you’re so American, but sure, I will. We can start now.”

Apparently, that sufficed for her as she let out an agreeing noise, “Yeah, so where are we going for this date.”

He put his finger to his lips and shushed her, “No, it’s a surprise.”

Her mind loved the fact that he was so obsessed with planning their outings by himself. She loved how much he initiated everything. She had never felt so taken care of. She always envied the girls loved wholly by their boyfriends and now she had that for herself. There would be no day that would come that she took advantage of the boy she fell in love with two summers ago.

She shrugged, “You better be happy I trust you so much, I’d follow you into a dark cave without any questions.”

Ollie squeezed her, “I mean, I follow you anywhere you go, so if you’re not going into that cave, I’m not either.”

He pulled her down the stairs to the Tube as he slipped her backpack off her body and onto his. She kissed him in appreciation, “So, it’s settled. No dark caves.”

Ollie shook his head and led her to the place they needed to be. He held her hand tightly as they weaved through the crowds, his head flicking behind him to check on her frequently before just pushing her in front of him, his hands around her waist as he steered her.

When they got to their platform, he added his last thought to their conversation, “We need to get married first before wandering into dangerous caves.”

He said it so nonchalantly, it made her fall in love with him more. And when he met her eyes after he was met with silence, he found overwhelming joy within them.

He kissed her in the midst of the chaos underground, his hands cradling her face and hers loosely around his waist. They were a sight for sore eyes, but no one saw them in the midst of their special moment.

It was just for themselves and would be referred back to in the coming years as the moment where their forever really started.

Bloody hell, they were so in love.

[bratzforchris]

Prank, C. Sturniolo

Summary: When pranking Chris and having a smart mouth gets you in trouble, you see just how far he's willing to go to get your attitude in check

Pairing: Brat tamer!Chris x feminine reader

Warnings: HEAVY smut, dom/sub dynamics, brat tamer!Chris, reader being the biggest brat in LA, overstimulation, spanking, vibrator usage (partnered), spitting, p in v, rough sex, degradation/teasing

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Save me brat tamer!Chris...brat tamer!Chris save me. In all seriousness though, this is fiction!! Thank you for reading and enjoy some smut ;)

Sunlight filtered through the white, linen curtains of your and Chris’s shared room, slowly bringing you to life after a wonderful night’s sleep. You blinked open your eyes, realizing you were still tightly wrapped in Chris’s arms, both of you naked and tangled in each other’s embrace. Last night hadn’t even been sexual, which was a rather rare occurrence. Sometimes, you both simply enjoyed the feeling of each other’s skin. You couldn’t say that you minded the hold, though. Your boyfriend’s bare chest was soft against your back as he snored quietly, cheeks red with pillow marks and fluffy brown hair fanned out across the sheets. 

You smiled at the angelic sight, running your thumb softly across his cheek before craning your neck to see what time it was. It had to be later than you thought; you were far too well-rested for it to be any earlier than ten am. Sure enough, the clock on Chris’s nightstand had just flicked to 10:15. You knew he had quite the busy day today with running errands for upcoming videos and meeting, so you began to softly scratch your acrylic nails across his scalp in a gentle attempt to wake your lover. 

“Chris, it’s time to wake up, baby.” You whispered softly, feeling smooth, brown curls slip through your fingers. 

Chris groaned, rolling over and stretching. The white sheets were a stark contrast against his tanned skin as yawned and pulled you closer to himself, speaking huskily in your ear. “Gimme five more minutes. What time is it?”

“Time for you to get up.” You sassed back, a cute little smirk on your face. 

“Mmmm, you better watch that smart fuckin’ mouth, baby doll.” Chris mumbled, morning voice gravelly against your skin as he kissed your neck. 

You whined as his lips pressed against your skin, warm and plump. “You know you love my mouth. I seem to recall you saying ‘Oh baby, that feels so good…love your mouth on my cock.’ the other night.” You snorted. 

Chris rolled his eyes, finally letting you go. “You’re gonna get yourself in trouble one day, you know that?” he asked, pinching your bare ass rather roughly as he sat up.

You yelped cutely, tackling Chris against the bed and peppering his cheeks with kisses. “I know. But until then, enjoy it.”

Your boyfriend kissed you back roughly, before setting you back on the bed and standing up, pulling on a pair of gray sweatpants. “I’m going to shower. Get cute while I’m gone.” he winked, tugging on the end of your hair gently. 

You watched as Chris disappeared into the bathroom, humming to himself. You absolutely loved to mess with Chris, enjoying the way his normally bright, blue eyes would darken with lust and the way you could practically get off without him touching you on his rough words and mannerisms. You looked around the bedroom, thinking of ways you could get back at him for that little ‘smart mouth’ comment earlier. An idea dawned on you when you saw your pile of pink, girly clothes laying on the chair in the corner. You had recently cleaned out your storage bin from under the bed, exchanging your winter clothes for summer clothes. Sure enough, you hopped off the bed and peered under the frame, only to see that the space was completely empty. Enough so that you could definitely get under the mattress if you tried. 

You quickly pulled on the silky, white sleep camisole and shorts that you had abandoned at the foot of the bed last night so that the carpet wouldn’t burn your skin. Getting down on all fours, you easily slid under the bed, giggling to yourself as your hair fanned out across the carpet. A while back, Chris had stated in a podcast episode that his most irrational fear was that something was under his bed and would grab his ankles. You had laughed the information off at first, but now seemed like the perfect time to recall it. 

A few minutes later, you heard the shower shut off and tried to suppress your giggles. This wouldn’t work if Chris heard you. You waited until you heard the bathroom door open to extend your arms, ready to pounce. Sure enough, Chris padded into your bedroom and over to his nightstand to grab his everyday accessories of his chain and earrings. You waited to be sure he hadn’t heard you, before lunging your arms out, grabbing his ankles, and screaming “RAHHHH.”

The yelp Chris let out was akin to that of a four-year-old girl. Your boyfriend practically jumped straight in the air, before shaking you off his ankles and roughly pulling you out from under the bed. “What the fuck was that for?” he asked harshly. 

“Gotcha.” You grinned from ear-to-ear as Chris finally pulled you all the way out from under the bed. 

“That wasn’t fucking funny!” Chris protested, but you could see a smirk forming at the corners of his mouth as he looked you up and down. 

“Was so.”

“Was not.”

“Was so.” You giggled, poking his stomach with your pointer finger. 

Maybe it was the comment from earlier, or maybe you were just in the mood to fuck with your dom, but either way, you were getting a rise out of messing with Chris. Bratting was probably one of your favorite things; you loved to push his buttons, seeing just how much you could get away with before he would snap and fuck you into next year. 

“What’s gotten into you this morning, huh?” Chris asked, raising his brow as he moved to the dresser and pulled on his clothes for the day.

“What’s gotten into you?” You retorted. “That scream sure didn’t sound like a grown man. It sounded like my little cousin…she’s three.”

“You better watch that mouth.” he hummed. 

“You watch it. I can’t see my mouth.” You giggled, eagerly awaiting Chris’s reaction. 

The flip was like a light switch. Your boyfriend’s mood had seemed heavy, though teasing. But now, Chris whipped around, stalking towards the bed. “What did you say?” he asked, voice dangerously low. 

“I said you watch my mouth. I can’t see it.” You smiled, crossing your arms over your chest as a pout decorated your lips. 

“I swear to God…” he chuckled deeply, shaking his head. “Strip. Now.”

“No.”

“You strip now or I edge that little cunt so hard you’re gonna wish you never would’ve spoken at all.” Chris stared down at you with stone cold features. 

You slowly looked down at your knees, beginning to strip with a fake aire of humiliation. You were more excited to see what your punishment would be, but you knew that Chris would definitely deny your orgasm if you acted happy about it. Once you had removed all your clothes, you kneeled on the bed, pouting up at him. “This isn’t fair.”

“Sweetheart,” Chris hummed, grabbing your chin roughly. “Considering how you’ve been acting this morning, this is very fair. Now, open,” Your boyfriend gathered just enough of his own saliva to spit in your mouth, holding your chin closed once he had done so. “Let’s see if that fixes that bratty little mouth.”

You smiled as the taste of him consumed you, lighting your nerves with passion and excitement. You waited patiently to see what Chris would do, but his lack of instruction was beginning to make you nervous for what he had in store. Your boyfriend smiled sadistically, reaching into his bedside drawer and pulling out a toy you were all too familiar with. It was a small, pink vibrator that went up to settings so immense they could practically make you cum in seconds. 

Chris sat down on the bed, patting his sweatpants covered lap. “On my lap.”

You blushed, crawling across the sheets and laying yourself across his lap, ass up. You felt Chris’s warm, large hands caressing your backside as they slowly made their way between your thighs, spreading your legs further and further apart. Your boyfriend chuckled as he ran a finger along your damp slit, feeling the way you were already soaking, just from the thoughts of him and what he would do to you. 

The last thing you could comprehend before you were seeing stars was the sound of the toy flicking on, buzzing lightly. Chris held the vibrator against your clit as he stroked your folds, chuckling at the little squeals and whimpers that were already escaping your mouth as you buried your face in his thigh.

“Does that feel good, princess?” he cooed in an almost sickeningly sweet way as he turned the intensity up a notch. “Your pretty pussy gettin’ all wet from being punished?”

You could hardly let out anything more than a little whine, tears pricking your eyes at the overwhelming sensations from the toy and Chris’s fingers working gracefully. “Mhm…uh uh.”

“Awww, what happened to that sass, ma? Cat got your tongue?” he pouted, turning the vibrator up again as he shoved your legs further apart on his lap. 

You whimpered and panted, digging your almond-shaped nails into his leg. “Oh…oh god. Chris, Chris–I need to…” You were a senseless mess as you began to sob, your thighs slick with arousal. 

“You need to what? Use your words, baby doll.” Your boyfriend sneered. 

“Need to cum,” You wailed, shoving your face against his leg and gripping his thigh. Your orgasm had been building in your stomach for a while now, the white-hot energy threatening to push you over the edge. “P…please.”

Chris landed a stinging smack to your ass as he edged you harder before finally speaking. “Go ahead, princess. Cum all over my lap and show me how much you appreciate me treating you like the whore you are.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You immediately let go, your climax washing over you as you came all over the vibrator and Chris’s fingers. Fat tears rolled down your face, simply from feeling soi overstimulated, yet so good. Your boyfriend rubbed your back gently, dropping his rough dom façade as he coached you through your high. Once you had caught your breath, Chris  flipped you over so that you were laying on your back on his lap, looking up at him. 

“You’re going again,” he smiled, almost sadistically. “Gotta make sure that little attitude is properly fucked out.”

Chris tossed you onto the bed roughly, before leaning over and grabbing a condom from his nightstand. In a quick amount of time, he had yanked off his sweatpants and hoodie and rolled the condom onto his throbbing cock. You smiled up at him with doe eyes, wanting to comment, but choosing your physical pleasure over the pleasure of mouthing off. 

“You ready, ma?” he asked, lining himself up with you. 

You didn’t get another chance to speak as he slammed into you immediately, filling you completely. You let out a moan at the feeling of suddenly being full, Chris stretching you to the max. Just like when he had been using the toy on you, your boyfriend was fucking rough. He bucked his hips into you, going harder with each thrust as he pinned your arms to the bed. You were always more sensitive on your second orgasm than on your first, and your stomach was already clenching with the need for release. 

“Gonna…” You whimpered. “Need to cum again.”

Chris ignored you, pounding into you relentlessly. If your head wasn’t hazy with lust, you’d be thanking the universe that Nick was a heavy sleeper and Matt slept with ear plugs, because the sound of the headboard hitting the wall was ricocheting through the room. You could tell that your boyfriend was getting closer to his own climax as he threw his head back with a groan, riding you mercilessly. This was by far one of the best punishments he had ever given you, making you so dizzy with arousal that you couldn’t even think straight to brat. 

“Oh god, baby,” Chris groaned, throwing his head back as he came, filling the condom. “You feel so fucking good.”

You whined and writhed beneath him, arching your back as your lower stomach ached with the need to cum. The feeling of Chris being buried fully inside of you wasn’t helping, either. “Need to cum, please.” You whimpered, on the verge of tears again from the good feelings. 

Chris adjusted himself, still fucking you despite having already came. “Say ‘I’m a little cockslut who can’t control her mouth’ and then maybe I’ll let you.” he shrugged.

You sobbed, fighting the urge to just release. “I–I’m a little…Chris, please.”

“Gotta hear you say the full thing, ma.” he chuckled, riding you in a slower, more sensual rhythm, which just increased the tingling in your nerves. 

“I’m a little cockslut who can’t control her mouth.” You wailed. 

“Good girl.” Chris kissed your forehead as you came, your body writhing with the intensity of your climax. 

You were beyond fucked out by the time Chris pulled out, tying the condom up and throwing it away. Your boyfriend grabbed a tissue from the nightstand, using it to dry your tears as you caught your breath. The rough dom he had been for the scene had completely disappeared, replacing him with the loving, gentle boyfriend he always was. Chris dried your tears, handing you a water bottle. 

“You did so good.” he whispered gently, caressing your cheek as he held the bottle to your lips. 

You smiled softly, eyes glazed over. “I promise I won’t mouth off anymore.”

“I doubt that’s a promise you can keep, baby girl.” Chirs chuckled, massaging over your shoulders and back lightly with a sweet-smelling lotion. 

You pulled him into you as your boyfriend pulled the comforter over your naked bodies. “Mhm. ‘M really tired.”

“You need to rest, ma,” Chris kissed your cheek, pulling you into his body to spoon. “Being a little brat is hard work, huh?”

You nodded with a gentle giggle. “I love you.”

“I love you more, ma. I can promise you that.”

“That prank was hilarious, though.”

“Don’t push your limits, princess.” Chris hummed. 

tags ♡: @aemrsy @jake-and-johnnies-slut @mattsfavwh3re @suyqa @chrissturnswife @mbsbaby @herxyz @ilovejohnnieg @lovingchrissposts @athaliahxoxo @bitchydragonparadise @dumpling-to-eat @ilydeaky @soggyslugg169 @not-phone-guy @books0fever @stingerayyy2 @strnlvr @sunsetsturniolos @mimi-luvzyu @mayhem-72 @faygo-frog @oobleoob @idek3000hi @runasvengence

note ♡: if you'd like to be included on my taglist, click here <3

[gojosprettyprincess]

Tw - Stepbrother choso, soft dom Choso?, fingering, pussy eating, squirting but reader didn't know what it was, oversimulation, ass play. Reader is 18 about to start college and choso is 23. This shit is honestly pretty filthy. I'm sorry for any errors.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

(Twitter link for visual at the end)

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

[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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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"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.

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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.

[elleloquently]

[ ellie still fucking hated coffee.

but she finished off the drink, just because you made it. ]

| a/n : this has genuinely been in the works for months and im so excited to finally be posting it, so please consider leaving a comment/reblogging! it took ages but im very happy with the end result. over time i had a bunch of requests for coffee shop/college barista au's so i kinda mashed them together. please enjoy! <3

| c/w : swearing

coffee talk - ellie williams

the late summer air might've subconsciously motivated ellie's walk that day, her relaxed demeanour acted as a foolish guise from her anxious thoughts. she usually waited until the last possible minute to leave for class, but something today was different.

maybe she hoped that if she walked around for awhile, her body and mind would tire themselves before class, leaving herself sleepy with concentration instead. maybe she hoped that her early start would somehow prompt a late arrival to class, giving her an excuse to just not go.

ellie sighed, squinting in the sun. it was too early in the semester to start that bad habit.

she came across a little campus cafe on her wander, quickly recognizing it as the one that dina had frequented. she hesitated briefly, trying to peer through the glass windows in a not obvious way. it looked relatively empty, compared to the usual crowd, so ellie dragged herself inside.

the air conditioning instantly hit her warm skin, causing goosebumps on her arms. a small group had claimed a table by a window, chattering away with laptops covering the table top. ellie wasn't exactly sure what she was looking for, and the line was pretty short, not allowing her much time to think. ellie lingered in the doorway, wondering how strange it may appear if she turned on her heel and immediately exited the establishment right after entering, until she heard possibly the sweetest voice to ever hit her ears.

"have a nice day," you regarded softly, handing someone their drink with a quick smile.

you were still relatively new at the job, fumbly and awkward with the interactions. your previous job had sucked. your co-workers were mean, you were paid basically nothing, and you were left with little time to complete assignments. your final straw was getting yelled at over the phone by your manager after calling off of work with the flu.

finally gathering the courage to quit, your friend had rallied you up to work at a campus cafe alongside her. the idea of that sort of work scared you, talking to customers, making drinks, but the pay was good and the hours were flexible. you put in an application and by the end of the week, you had started the training process. it was relatively comfortable, until your friend had suddenly decided to quit and left you alone.

"sorry," she had apologized weakly. "i think i might pick up doordashing or something instead."

you pushed out a quick sigh, drumming your fingers on the counter before plastering a smile on your face, moving to greet the next customer.

ellie craned her neck, trying to see the owner of the voice above the heads of the people that stood in line. once her eyes landed upon you, ellie sucked in a breath. she moved wordlessly into the line, no plan of action in mind.

she watched, dazed, as you entered orders and nodded. when you turned around to grab something and ellie spotted the bow that you were wearing in your hair, her palms began to feel warm. she strained her ears, desperate to hear your voice again above the sound of conversation and the typical coffee shop music.

ellie didn't even notice that there was another person, some guy, also behind the counter until he switched spots with you, greeting a different customer.

fuck, ellie thought, rapidly looking around to watch where you were going. you disappeared into the back, behind a set of secretive doors. ellie's heart sank. she would be up soon, and she didn't even know what she was doing. she didn't want to talk to some random guy.

she just... wanted to talk to some... random girl?

fuck.

someone else wandered into the cafe. ellie contemplated making that person's day, wondering if she should just leave the line. of course she should, this was stupid, but then you reappeared. you were carrying a small brown box, and huffed at a strand of hair that had fallen into your face.

ellie was almost up, and she rapidly began praying to any type of higher power that would listen. please don't let it be the guy, please don't let it be the fucking guy-

"hi," you greeted automatically, restocking a small display of reward punch cards. "what can we get for-" you finally dragged your eyes upwards, freezing at the sight of ellie.

your gaze widened and you mentally cursed yourself for having a horrible poker face. the girl standing in front of you was extremely attractive, to say the very least. you felt trapped in her green-eyed gaze, hand hovering above the cards that you were previously toying with.

ellie cleared her throat, shifting awkwardly on her feet. if anyone's voice matched their appearance perfectly, it was yours. you looked doe-eyed, caught off guard, and ellie's face flushed.

you blinked at the slight cough, snapping back into customer service mode. "what can i get for you?" you asked, pointedly changing the we to i. she had freckles. the smile you offered wasn't forced, but genuine.

fuck. fuck fuck fuck. she had to actually order something, not just stand there and stare at you. it was ellie's turn to be wide eyed, as she scrambled to pinpoint something from the menu. god. she really didn't want to be that person. you had all that time waiting in line, just pick something for christ sake!

you stood awkwardly, smile wavering as you waited for a reply. at least while the cute stranger was distracted by the menu, you could use the opportunity to stare.

mentally, ellie was a mess. she had held the skill of reading for the majority of her life now, but ellie couldn't make sense of a single word that was displayed on the menu. everything blurred together and she could feel your eyes on her as she scrambled for something to say.

"uh, what do you recommend?" ellie questioned, meeting your gaze. her cheeks burned when she noticed that you had winced. ellie wasn't being cute or friendly, she was being annoying. the last thing that you probably wanted was to rattle off a list of seasonal beverages you had been asked to promote. ellie mentally cursed herself, but you were stuttering for an answer before she could take her inquiry back.

"oh! um, well there's the..." you glanced over your shoulder at the seasonal drink specials, and ellie held back a grimace. poor fucking girl, she thought.

your face burned. you were still pretty new to the job, and honestly, penny pinching. despite the few that you've snuck during your shift, you hadn't tried many of the drinks yet. you so badly wanted to have a quick answer, something to impress her with your amazing taste. instead, you faltered, taking too long to answer.

"sorry," you laughed, shaking your head sheepishly. "i'm pretty new to this," you explained, ignoring the stare that you were getting from your co-worker. please don't ask to help me, you silently pleaded. despite the awkwardness of the interaction, you didn't want it to be cut short. you wanted to know if her freckles were always that visible, or if they popped out more due to the summer sun.

"that's okay," ellie said, a little too quickly. she looked down at the nametag that you wore on your apron. your name was written neatly, in your own style with a mix of cursive and regular letters. you had drawn a little flower next to your name.

"that board has some of our summer features though," you explained, finally regaining your footing. you nodded in the direction of a display board. "they're super popular, people really like them. i've tried the lavender one actually, it's super good. uh, we unfortunately don't get the pumpkin spice stuff in for... two more weeks, i think? so... i'm sorry about that," you quietly rambled, wringing your hands.

"pumpkin spice? it's barely september," ellie commented, wrinkling her nose. her attention was drawn to your nails, painted perfectly and neat. she wondered how big of a fool she would be making herself out to be if she attempted to flirt with you.

you shrugged, grinningly bashfully. "it's good," you resigned.

noted, ellie thought. i like pumpkin spice now. ellie opened her mouth to ask about the lavender thing, but the girl behind her in line obnoxiously cleared her throat.

ellie's eyebrows raised and you glanced apologetically at the other girl, who was tapping her foot.

"i'll be right with you," you commented. the girl scoffed and ellie's lips twisted at the sound. you were so sweet, wasting one of your pretty smiles on someone who didn't deserve it.

"yeah, no big deal," the girl replied sarcastically. "it's not like i have a class to get to or anything." she looked around the room, trying to garner support for herself, but no one was paying attention.

"i'll be right with you," you reiterated with a harsher tone. ellie fully blushed, feeling guilty for delaying the interaction. now you were getting backlash and your co-worker was completely eyeing you up, and ellie felt at fault for it. you met her eyes again, apologizing with a sad smile. ellie's grip on the strap of her bag tightened.

"sorry," ellie mumbled as her cheeks burned. "i'll get, um-"

the girl in line sighed again and ellie lost her train of thought, noticing that you were holding back your frustration with a tight smile. finally, a good idea emerged in ellie's head. she knew dina's order by heart. dina was certainly a creature of habit, at least when it came to her food and drink orders. ellie had heard dina order a million times.

ellie confidently allowed dina's coffee order to roll off of her tongue. you blinked in surprise as she gave specific directions, a direct contrast to how clueless she had seemed just a moment ago.

you frantically entered the order into the system, scared of making a mistake and looking dumb. "hey," you called softly, gaining the attention of your co-worker. you recited the order to him, to which he nodded in understanding.

"what's your name?" you asked politely. you grabbed a sharpie, waiting.

ellie's heart skipped a beat and she thought maybe she would have stood a chance, until she realized that you were asking for the drink and not because you genuinely wanted to know.

except, really, you did want to know. having to ask was just a perk.

"ellie."

"ellie," you repeatedly warmly. it was the best thing that ellie had ever heard. "i like it," you mumbled, grabbing a cup from a stack.

"thank you," ellie mumbled, watching as you wrote her name on the cup. your teeth pulled at your bottom lip in concentration, determined to use your best writing. once you had gotten to the second L, you looked up.

"oh," you realized sheepishly. "you can go wait at the end," you gently instructed her. ellie could've facepalmed herself for her stupidity, but didn't want to drag herself away from your presence. ellie wanted to say something more, but failed. she did, however, feel as though she had caused you enough trouble for the day. ellie gave you an awkward smile, as genuine as she could manage, before moving to step away.

once ellie had turned away, you realized your mistake.

"oh! wait!" you called, your voice louder than it had been all day. ellie froze, wondering if she had done something wrong or maybe you wanted to ask for her number.

the girl who was supposed to be next groaned.

"i'm so sorry," you whispered once ellie's body was in front of you again. "i forgot to have you pay," you muttered your confession, humiliated as your co-worker made a tsssk sound.

ellie thought that after this, she might drop out of college and move somewhere, maybe the country. somewhere far away from civilization.

"fuck," ellie swore under her breath, quickly rummaging through her bag for her wallet. "sorry," she said. you gave her the total, eyes lingering on ellie's tattoo while she swiped her card.

"um, do you want a reward card?" you asked, your voice sounding more robotic compared to before.

ellie was ready to automatically say no, but she took in the sight of your rounded cheeks and bashful smile.

"i would love one," ellie replied, and she felt as though her body jolted when your fingers grazed hers, handing over the card.

"if you buy nine drinks, the tenth one is on us!" you chirped, clearly haven gave this spiel before.

"jesus, nine?" ellie grumbled, and to her horror, your smile dropped.

"that's a great number!" she exclaimed awkwardly, scrambling to fix her mistake.

you nodded. "have a good day," you dismissed, and ellie's stomach lurched.

as ellie made her way to the end of the counter, she heard an exasperated "finally!" before you began to mumble apologies. ellie rolled her eyes. asshole.

when her name was called and she was handed her drink, ellie froze. her name, written pretty in your handwriting, punctuated with a doodle of a smile. her pulse quicked, and ellie wondered if she had always been this pathetic or if she had just gotten soft.

before she left, she turned around to give you one last look. you saw her heading for the door, and strained your neck to look at ellie once more before she was gone. you made eye contact, and ellie almost did an awkward half wave that certainly would've kept her up at night, cringing.

you tore your eyes away from ellie, mentally cursing yourself. but god, she was cute.

ellie shook her head discouragingly, once again met with the warm breeze of the afternoon as she stepped outside. she stared down at the little smiley on her cup. ellie frowned. she didn't really like coffee, but she also didn't want to throw it away. she heaved a sigh, holding the beverage as she began her trudge to class.

the doodled smiley carried ellie on a high throughout the entire day.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

ellie had come to find out that maybe, she wasn't particularly good at rationalizing with herself.

she figured that she would have a pretty good chance at seeing you again if she were to visit the cafe on the same day of the week and at the same time that she had previously seen you. she also figured that purposefully seeking out a stranger at their place of employment was pretty damn creepy.

when ellie passed by the cafe on her newly adjusted route to class, she craned her neck each time in hopes of catching a glimpse of you through the window. unfortunately for herself, ellie hadn't been so lucky.

if she had seen you, would she go inside?

mentally, ellie told herself no, but the answer was lousy.

maybe ellie would have, but only to try that lavender whatever drink that has been advertised on the chalkboard sign outside of the cafe. the flowers decorating the board looked a lot like the one doodled on your nametag and... did you draw them? was it your handwriting in purple, swooping letters that she saw now, nearly every day?

will power strong, but her delusion even stronger, ellie did not revisit the cafe and she did not have a crush on a barista that she met only once.

it was purely coincidental that exactly a week later, ellie left early for class again. she accidentally found herself walking the path to the cafe, and since she was so early anyway, ellie found no harm in stopping inside to get a break from the early september heat.

it was practically empty inside, so ellie's gaze quickly found its way to you.

you appreciated a slow day. the campus starbucks had finally staffed up enough to open for the semester, consequently stealing a lot of the little cafe's business. your coworkers complained and groaned about the matter, but you didn't mind. you sort of preferred it like this anyway.

the door chiming drew your attention instantly, and you were quick to recognize the auburn haired girl from the previous week. the sight of her made you grin, teeth on display before you had a moment to overthink it.

ellie's eyes were on you from the moment she stepped inside, and you noticeably faltered.

you weren't smiling right, so you straightened up your posture and dropped your eyes. you didn't want to smile too much, in a way that would be strange to greet a customer that you had only once before.

you pressed your lips into a tight smile. more formal, less i'm glad to see you again. i totally wasn't keeping an eye out for you during every single shift.

there was no line to restrain ellie today, and she sort of wished that there had been. a handful of seconds felt like ages as ellie shuffled to the counter. you were fidgeting, looking at ellie and then looking away.

ellie thought that she might be able to be confident today, swift and suave and just flirty enough to let you on to the idea that she could potentially be interested.

interested in what exactly, ellie wasn't so sure. she had girlfriends before, of course, and had admittedly flirted with her fair share of girls through time. obsessing over somebody random after one encounter though, that was new.

"uh, hey," ellie coughed. off to a fucking strong start, moron.

"hi!" you chirped, wringing your hands behind the counter. if you remembered her, and acted as such, would she think it was weird? what if you pretended not to remember her, but she did remember you, and then she thought that you were rude?

the sound of your voice filled a void that had been left within ellie since the previous week. the reaction it prompted within her was so fucking ridiculous that she deemed herself to be an idiot.

ellie did not have feelings for a barista that she saw once.

well, twice now, but still. no fucking thank you.

"what can i do for you?" you questioned, customer service manners causing your voice to raise in pitch.

there's a few things that you could- ellie scrunched her eyebrows with a pained expression, tearing herself away from the disgusting thought. jesus christ, what was actually wrong with her?

your smile never wavered as you waited, but your heart was racing. why on earth was it so awkward?

c'mon, fucking pull yourself together. if it goes wrong, you never have to show your face in here again, ellie thought.

"i actually wanted to try that drink you recommended last time," ellie said smoothly.

surprise registered clearly across your face, along with one blaring thought. she remembered you!

the second thought, the always displeasing afterthought, dropped like a weight in your chest. you were pretty sure the cafe didn't have the ingredients you would need.

you smiled anyway, (she remembered you!) giddy and nervous.

"the lavender one, right?" you questioned, and ellie was so in. you remembered the interaction, which might not mean anything at all, but it was better than being forgotten.

"right," ellie confirmed, nodding once with an easy smile.

"right," you repeated, and ellie instantly noticed the uncomfortable expression on your face. shit.

“um so,” you winced as you started, really not in the mood to receive the lashings of an unhappy customer. “i believe we are actually out of the lavender, i can go check in the back just to make sure if you want…”

ellie wanted to say no, that’s totally fine, you’re beautiful and don’t even worry about it, but her mouth tended to work faster than her brain.

ideally, she wouldn’t be opposed to a moment alone to compose herself, so ellie mumbled a quick “sure, that’s fine,” and tried not to be a creep as you turned and quickly walked away, disappearing behind a set of doors into the back.

you already knew there was no possible way that you could make the drink, and you already knew that there were no extra ingredients hidden in the back. you wondered if you could stay hidden and just not go back out.

"i am so sorry," you began, voice high and apologetic as you made your way back to your standing place. "unfortunately we don't ha-"

"that's fine!" ellie squeaked, crimson patching its way onto her cheeks. ellie thought that maybe she should buy you a drink, since it seemed like she only showed up to cause extra trouble for you.

ellie pictured it so clearly in her mind, asking whatever your favorite drink was and ordering it, only to give it to you instead. was that smooth, or lame? she imagined telling jesse and dina about it later and pictured them giving her praise instead of wincing in second-hand embarrassment, so it was game on.

"is there anything else i could get you?" you questioned, tugging at your bottom lip with your teeth.

"actually-"

"hey, excuse me, can i get an ice water to go?"

ellie quickly snapped in the direction of the person who interrupted her. a guy stood near a table in which he was previously sat, packing up a laptop and notebook.

"of course!" you turned away from ellie and she would have sworn that she felt her heart burst. "what size?"

ellie watched intently, jealous as you prepared the simple water cup. why couldn't she be an easy customer like that? what the fuck was wrong with her?

"sorry about that," you muttered sheepishly. your hand hovered over the cash register, still waiting to take ellie's order.

your nails were painted the same color as last time, ellie noted, but they were starting to chip.

"it's all good," ellie breezed, and suddenly remembered that she actually had a class to get to. she recited the previous coffee order without a second thought, thanks dina, and you nodded along intently. you weren't really great at remembering faces and their orders, but something in you made you want to memorize ellie's.

ellie paid (you remembered this time, but no co-worker was around to see it) and she held back a snort when you pulled out a little pink stamp pad.

"do you have your reward card?" you questioned, leaving ellie to look dumbfounded.

"my what?"

"the reward card? buy nine drinks, the tenth is on us?"

"oh! oh, shit," ellie fumbled for her wallet, making a sound of recognition as she pulled out the card. "of course i do," ellie remarked. you swallowed a giggle.

you stamped her card with the pretty pink ink and then began to make the drink. ellie mentally cursed herself for once again ordering something that she didn't like, but it was too late now.

"here you go!" you presented. you had wrote ellie on the cup, even though you technically didn't need to since no one else was around. ellie appreciated it anyway.

"thanks," she murmured, failing to meet your gaze.

"have a good day, okay?"

"you too," ellie remarked, holding up her cup in parting.

when she was outside and the fresh air began to clear her mind, ellie forbid herself from ever going back to that cafe. it was painfully and unnecessarily awkward, especially considering that she didn't know you.

still, her heartstrings were tugged as she stared down at the drink in her hand. last time, your co-worker had actually been the one to make the drink, so ellie didn't feel any guilt about pouring it down the sink.

however, you were the one to make it today. and you were so sweet, and ellie couldn't bear to just throw it away.

ellie gulped, staring at the cup with a grimace. she took a fast, quick sip, and then coughed into her arm so she wouldn't gag.

ellie still fucking hated coffee. but she finished off the drink, just because you made it.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

the next morning, ellie was up early with a mission. a study session with dina wasn't exactly the best thing to motivate ellie to wake up early, but an excuse to see if you were working definitely was.

ellie had no clue of your schedule except for the one day of the week that she had already seen you. it might have been a long shot, but fuck it, the least she could do was get dina a coffee on her way.

campus was quiet when it was early. ellie certainly preferred it that way. it was peaceful, the way the morning light projected a certain softness onto her surroundings. she knew the cafe was open this early, ellie had googled it about seven times the night prior and twice more in the morning to be safe.

to confirm the information once more, ellie could see the glowing lights through the window. it appeared empty, and ellie couldn't even tell who the person was inside until she entered.

"hi," you said almost instantly, and your tone made it clear that you were surprised.

"hi," ellie repeated, not being able to believe her luck.

you had been wiping a table, but you placed the rag down and moved to the counter as you continued to speak.

"you're really determined to burn through that reward card, huh?"

your joke caught ellie off guard, and her feet were carrying her before she told them to. ellie didn't even feel like a person yet, how were you making jokes so early?

"i'll be getting my free drink by noon," ellie retorted.

"ambitious, i like it," you laughed.

ellie was going to have a good day.

she didn't really give a fuck about the reward card, honestly, ellie would only use it if you were around. she was prepared on the off chance that you would be working, and caught you by surprise as she slapped it on the countertop.

"so what'll it be? your usual?" you questioned, tilting your head to the side.

ellie mentally cursed herself for hitting rock bottom, because receiving basic customer service shouldn't be having that effect on her.

"yeah, actually," ellie confirmed, looking flustered as her face dusted pink.

"perfect," you murmured, fingers dancing along the order screen. shit.

"um, shit," you laughed awkwardly, face burning. "i promise i know it but also could you like, remind me?"

ellie laughed because everything about you was so endearing and also because she didn't want you to feel embarrassed.

"for sure," ellie enthused, going through the steps of the order. as you tapped the screen, ellie noted that your nails were painted a different color today.

you were a little slower at making the drink today, not that ellie minded. it was peaceful, watching you hum as you did every step so delicately. ellie felt lucky to be the only person there with you, and then hoped she wasn't weird for having the thought.

the song playing quietly through the speakers above caught ellie's attention once she had noticed that it was the one that you were humming along to. the sound of the acoustic guitar got stuck in ellie's head like a daydream, your absent minded mutters filling the spaces of silence.

"oh man, i love this song," ellie gushed.

"yeah?" you looked up with a grin, pleased by ellie's comment. "me too."

perfect girl. ellie watched as you picked up a sharpie, turning your back to her.

"what other stuff do you guys play here?" ellie questioned, craning her neck to try and see what you were drawing on her cup.

"uh," you didn't think that you had ever been this concentrated on decorating someone's cup before. "anything, mostly. we play our own playlists, like, whoever's working, you know?"

ellie nodded, even though you couldn't see her. "this is yours?"

"my playlist?" you turned back around, immediately caught in ellie's green eyed gaze. "yeah! i don't play my own stuff much though, unless i'm here alone."

"i get that," ellie murmured, watching as you once again made yourself busy.

it was quiet just for a moment, until you handed ellie her drink. your fingers touched for just a moment but your pulse quickened. you hoped you weren't making things weird, but worried that you were by the way ellie dropped her eyes after the small touch.

ellie was silent while she payed, but only because she was trying to think of something more to say.

"hey," ellie said suddenly, causing your eyebrows to raise. "you didn't stamp my card," she complained.

"oops," you said, reaching for your stamp.

"i can't believe you're trying to cheat me out of a free drink," ellie stated, feigning fake shock.

"yeah, guess you'll just have to come back more," you responded through a laugh.

your joke sobered ellie's expression. the brief change made you freeze, and you couldn't decide whether or not the joke was incorrect. oh my god, you barely knew her. then again, it could have been passed off as just a joke about getting more business.

"guess i will," ellie agreed quietly, and your breath caught in your throat. was she joking or flirting? was there something, or were you sleep deprived and crushing on an extremely attractive girl that you barely even knew?

ellie felt satisfied with herself, though was determined to leave before she could manage to fuck anything up.

"thank you," she concluded, moving towards the door.

"anytime. see you soon for that free drink, right?"

ellie scanned your features and cracked a smile. "definitely. have a good one, okay?"

"okay," you sighed and then coughed awkwardly. "have a good day!"

after ellie had left, you slid down to the floor and covered your head in your hands. what the hell were you doing?

ellie quickened her pace to get to dina's, but after one glance at her cup she stopped short.

in black sharpie, you had drawn a flower and a little bee. and then, ellie's name in cursive.

fuck.

ellie looked back towards the direction of the cafe, wondering how creepy she might come off as if she were to march back in there and ask you out.

the doodle on the cup quite literally made her heart ache, and she stood indecisively on the sidewalk.

ellie had gotten this coffee for dina to be a good friend.

ellie also could not fucking stand the idea of passing this cup off to dina and then seeing it be thrown in the trash.

"fuck," ellie muttered.

whatever, dina could use her own fucking cup.

ellie would explain, sort of. maybe.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"ellie, what the hell is wrong with you?"

dina's shoes slapped heavy against the pavement in a rushed attempt to keep up with her best friend. her hand reached for ellie's arm, a little aggressively, as ellie nearly shoulder checked some guy zooming past on a skateboard.

"huh? nothing," ellie dismissed, blinking around her surroundings as if she had never been on campus before.

"yeah? nothing? since when do you ever want to get a coffee," dina mocked the way ellie had proposed the plan earlier, earning a frustrated sigh from the auburn haired girl.

ellie shook her head, fixating her eyes on the little cafe that she was growing quite familiar (and fond) of.

"change of scenery would be nice," ellie grumbled. "come on, i'm being a good friend. you love this place."

"you're being so weird," dina muttered, stepping ahead of ellie to open the door.

the sudden chill of the air conditioning was a shock to ellie's warm skin. she tried not to look at you as she trailed in after dina.

"i'm gonna get-"

"let me," ellie interrupted, causing dina to raise an eyebrow. "how about you find us a seat and i'll order drinks, yeah?"

the environment was loud with orders and chatter, leaving little room to set up and study. ellie straightened her posture, appearing a lot more confident than she felt.

dina nodded, rolling her eyes with a grin. "i'll grab a table."

ellie waited until dina's back was turned to take a shaky breath as she pivoted to the ordering counter. there wasn't much of a line, only one person, though a gaggle of people waited off to the side for their names to be called.

you didn't notice ellie until she was in line, shifting on her feet and stealing glances that she probably assumed you wouldn't catch.

"hi," you chirped, gaining her attention.

ellie's gaze snapped upwards. she felt surprised to hear your voice, even though you were the sole reason for her even coming inside in the first place. the smile that graced your lips made her head spin, and she was suddenly all too aware that dina was probably watching her now.

"hi," ellie repeated, a little too meekly for her own liking.

"how are you?" you questioned, dropping any trace of your customer service voice.

"good now," ellie replied.

you raised a curious brow but smiled anyway, the presence of your ever growing favorite 'stranger' was exactly the type of break that you yearned for on a day like today.

there was no denying the silly way that ellie made you feel, no matter how much you argued it with yourself.

it wasn't typical of you to get butterflies while customers were ordering.

you relaxed your posture, grateful that there was a lack of impatient people lining up behind ellie. your co-worker was making drinks so you were free to chat, even just for a minute.

"what can i get for you?" you forced yourself to meet ellie's eyes, which you realized quickly was a difficult task.

looking in her eyes for too long made your head whirl. her gaze was so steady, so intentional, it honestly threw you for a loop.

when ellie began to recite the coffee order that you were expecting, you laughed a little and tapped away on the ordering screen and ellie's mouth felt dry with nerves.

"-and uh, a water. please," ellie finished, resting her hand and wallet on the counter.

"switching things up on me now?" you joked, shaking your head with a tsk. "just as i was starting to memorize it."

"gotta keep you on your toes," ellie quipped. if she leaned in closer, just a little, she could smell your perfume. "surely all your other customers don't give you enough of a hard time."

you smiled knowingly with a quick laugh, grabbing the card that ellie was now holding out to you. your fingers touched just briefly and ellie flushed instantly.

"you're totally the most difficult customer we've ever had," you deadpanned.

the humor was on ellie's caliber, and she had started it, yet your sarcastic remark instantly had her feeling guilty.

"right," ellie muttered, and she felt stupid because she knew it was a joke and you were only playing along and what did she expect, a fucking compliment?

"i'm kidding," you rushed, sliding ellie's card back to her. "you're like, the best one."

now ellie really felt like an idiot. she fumbled to return her card into her wallet and tried to ignore how warm she felt.

you smiled awkwardly and ellie wanted to believe that you were being sincere on a personal level, not just reciting some customer service bullshit. completely aware of the fact that she was overthinking it, ellie choked on a laugh. maybe she was just scarred from the trader joe's shopping experience.

"you say that to everyone," ellie recovered, her voice a lot smoother than she felt.

"oh," you disagreed, wide eyed. "pinkie promise. i like when you come in 'cause i don't have to worry about potentially being yelled at or like, verbally attacked."

ellie briefly contemplated making a stupid joke, but your twitchy smile made her heart ache and she wished that she could hang out in the cafe all day, ready to defend you from any asshole that comes in with an attitude.

"never," ellie responded, finally catching your eye. "i would never."

"i know," you replied softly, and immediately felt your face grow warm with embarrassment. why were you being so earnest? you didn't ACTUALLY know, anyway. but you wanted to trust those green eyes, so you did.

this is good, ellie thought. she wanted to say something else, maybe ask a question, but you pushed off the counter and clicked your tongue.

"i'll get you the water while you wait for your coffee," you said quickly, turning away and making yourself busy.

ellie's mouth snapped shut, her racing thoughts stopping dead in their tracks. she noticed that the bow you wore in your hair matched the color of your slouchy sweater and she had to get to know you.

pouring a water obviously didn't take as long as preparing a coffee, so ellie didn't understand why she seemed so caught off guard when you handed her the water.

"thanks..." ellie murmured. talking was usually pretty easy for ellie, considering how long she's been able to do it, so the fact that her mouth and words were drying up now had her about ready to tug at her hair in frustration.

"sorry," you smiled sheepishly. "i would totally make your coffee so you wouldn't have to wait, but i'm on register duty.. so..."

ellie noticed as you tapped your painted nails on the register and oh my fucking god, your nails matched your bow and sweater. how the fuck?

"that's okay, i don't mind waiting," ellie replied smoothly, and the words left her mouth before she could even process them. "as long as i can wait over here?"

here was referring to exactly where she was standing, at the counter with you. your cheeks burned and you nodded once, a silent reply.

"sure," you finally managed to choke out. "i don't blame you, it gets overwhelming waiting in crowds like that..."

fumbled. fumbled fumbled fumbled.

"uh, yeah."

as awkward as it was, you hoped it took a while longer for ellie's drink to be finished. she was cute, there was no sense in trying to deny yourself from acknowledging it. it's not like you were going to say anything, and if it made five minutes of your day more interesting, so what?

"don't tell me you forgot about the reward card," you teased, an easy fall back.

"never," ellie replied, but her eyes widened as she struggled to find it in her wallet. "shit."

you shook your head in disapproval. "and to think i just called you my best customer?"

"ouch," ellie mumbled. "i'll find it, i swear," ellie rushed, taking the idea of a stupid card much too seriously. she was well aware of the fact, but still. you were the one to give it to her after all.

you giggled at her strained expression and rose colored cheeks. "don't worry about it. hey, have you been to that coffee shop downtown?"

ellie's heartbeat quickened, and she wondered if you could tell based purely upon the look on her face. she was nearly ecstatic that you were genuinely talking to her, asking her something, and she wanted to deliver. it was a little deflating though. ellie didn't really love coffee shops, and she didn't want to provide you with an underwhelming answer.

"which one?" ellie inquired, loving the little smile that appeared on your lips before you answered her question.

"it's on the corner of main, on the inside it has this super cool v-"

"vinyl store?" ellie finished, beaming with excitement. "dude, i fucking love that place. i'm there like, every week."

"yeah?" you enthused, butterflies swirling your stomach. "me too! maybe we like... saw each other there before."

"i don't think so," ellie said instantly.

"i mean, you might've, maybe you just don't remember," you offered.

"i would've remembered," ellie replied seriously. she quickly wondered if her response was too cheesy, but you drew your eyes downward and tried to suppress a smile and ellie felt fine.

"fair enough," you mumbled, tracing shapes on the counter.

"so, do you collect vinyls or do you just-"

"did you forget my drink order or what?" dina joked, coming up behind ellie.

ellie shook her head, shifting awkwardly on her feet. shit.

"just waiting," ellie mumbled. she didn't know why she felt uncomfortable, maybe the idea of crushing on the barista at her friend's favorite coffee shop when she didn't even LIKE coffee but was suddenly spending all of her free minutes there, was, odd.

you recognized the girl next to ellie, dina. she came in pretty frequently.

ellie's name was called by your co-worker as her, no - dina's drink was placed on the counter.

"well, wait no longer," dina laughed, playfully shoving ellie away.

ellie glanced at you briefly before grabbing the drink, handing it off to dina with a cheesy grin.

oh.

oh.

the smile dropped from your face just as it felt as though your heart dropped into your stomach. you felt so stupid. especially considering all of the effort you had put into trying to make ellie's cups look cute, and they weren't even for ellie.

you watched as they sat down together and huffed out a sigh, startling as your co-worker tapped you on the shoulder to inform you that they were going on break.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

ellie couldn't stop thinking about you. she had avoided the cafe for a few days following your last interaction. she didn't understand why, but it made her feel guilty.

it's not like she even had a reason to feel that way. but hey, she was a loyal girl. if she decidedly had a secret crush on a barista that she barely knew, it was sacred!

the way that your demeanor had changed was stuck in ellie's head, and honestly, maybe it was making her a little too hopeful. the look on your face had to have meant something.

on the other hand, this was coming from someone who's idea of flirting was smiling while somewhat remaining eye contact.

seriously. seriously? fuck it.

ellie didn't like coffee anyway.

if she completely humiliated herself and ultimately freaked you out forever, she just wouldn't go back to the cafe! easy!

the sunlight covering campus was soft. it would be dark soon, and ellie felt exhausted after a long day of classes. she was well aware that this was definitely a long shot, but she had to try. she had been buying a lot of coffee lately.

please, please let it be worth something.

the sky was fading blue when ellie appeared upon the cafe. the sign on the door said CLOSED! but the lights were on and ellie could've fallen to her knees and screamed thank you to the universe because she could see that you were inside.

you didn't flinch when the bell on the door chimed, signaling its opening.

"we're closed," you stated without looking up, powering off a small machine.

"i know," ellie breathed, standing in the doorway.

you blinked, suddenly feeling flushed. you straightened your posture and waited, unsure what to make of the situation.

surely she wasn't secretly one of those people who were like, i don't care if you're closed, give me my damn coffee now!

you silently pleaded to the universe for that to not be the case. you already had a rough day as is.

"what do you want?" you asked, a hint of exhaustion in your tone.

everything in ellie's body wanted to backpedal. maybe she really did misread everything.

"um, i wanted to say.. uh-"

oh for fuck's sake. just say it.

"i wanted to say sorry?" ellie offered, false confidence leading her to the counter.

"sorry for what?" you questioned, wrinkling your nose.

"i don't like coffee," ellie blurted out. the absurdity made you laugh.

"that's.. okay?" you crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow at the green eyed girl.

"i've just been buying them for my friend," ellie continued, adding more emphasis than necessary to friend.

you pretended not to be delighted. "that's okay. it doesn't matter who customers buy their drinks for," you pointed out.

ellie swallowed a sigh. being referred to plainly as a customer (even though that's exactly what she was) was possibly the most devastating thing to ever happen in her life.

"i know," ellie replied, really amping it up. "i just wanted you to know. that i was buying them for a friend."

your heart was beating so quickly, you felt like a hummingbird.

"oh," you muttered, feeling stumped. "it doesn't matter what i think," you said quickly, looking at the floor.

"it does. i liked the bee. and the little flower. they were cute," ellie explained. her cheeks were completely red and yours were certainly warming up as well.

"thanks.. i thought they were cute too," you said softly, kicking your shoe at the ground.

"great. can i have your number?"

as the words left ellie she blinked heavily, startled by her own actions.

your brain turned to mush. you wanted to laugh but nothing came out so you just stared at ellie in silence.

"mine?"

ellie nodded.

"sure," you breathed, walking to pull out a pad of paper by the register. you retrieved a pen and wrote your number, followed by your name in cursive.

ellie waited in silence, holding her breath. you very easily could've just typed your number into her phone, but ellie found it incredibly endearing that you actually wrote it down instead.

"it's really nice of you to do stuff like that," you murmured, handing the paper to ellie. "buying coffee for a friend and all that."

"not entirely," ellie disagreed, forcing herself to meet your eyes.

you raised your eyebrows in question, and ellie shook her head.

"it wasn't exactly selfless."

"why?" you asked, a curious smile embellishing your features.

"i was only buying stuff so i had an excuse to come in."

you bit back a grin and leaned against the counter. "it's still nice of you to get something for someone else if you didn't like coffee... but why didn't you get like, a smoothie or tea or something?"

ellie didn't have an answer, you could tell by the look on her face and it made you laugh.

"what do you like?" you asked.

"i don't know? tea's fine. hot chocolate?"

you rolled your eyes, pointing to the menu above you that clearly had hot chocolate labeled as a menu item.

"so what? it's september." ellie wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"oh, you're one of those people," you observed, watching ellie's features contort into confusion.

"one of what people?"

"people who only drink seasonally appropriate drinks," you pointed out.

"i... guess?" ellie tried to hold a decent conversation, but she was still buzzing about getting your number and the way your perfume was the best thing that she had ever smelled.

"want me to make you something?" you questioned suddenly. "i bet that i can make you something that you'll actually like, and it won't be coffee."

ellie nodded immediately, but her words conflicted her. "aren't you closed?"

you shrugged, grinning at the girl standing opposite of you. "it's not a big deal. plus, it gets creepy at night. it'll be more fun closing up with some company."

ellie nodded once more, and she would absolutely stay for every single closing shift you ever had if you wanted her to.

you paced back and forth a bit, pulling out some supplies and flipping on some machines.

"what kind of tea do you like?" you inquired, peering over at ellie. "black? green? white? oolong?"

"the... fucking, brown kind?"

your eyebrows raised as you scanned her features, trying to determine whether or not she was joking.

ellie cracked an uneasy smile.

"do you like matcha, or do you think it tastes like grass and dirt?"

"uh-"

"right! i got it," you said decidedly, making yourself busy as ellie watched in confusion and wonder.

the tea that you made was simple, but not plain. it was earthy but not too bitter or dark, and it was a brighter flavor compared to coffee.

ellie chatted with you while you were busy, about majors and assholes on campus that drag their feet and take up entire walkways.

she was actually really easy to talk to, and funny too.

ellie was just glad that she didn't need an excuse to talk to you anymore.

"okay," you announced with bravado. "try this."

you placed the cup in front of ellie, and she hesitantly took a sip.

"it's totally fine if you hate it, there's zero pressure," you clarified.

ellie popped the lid off of the cup, smelling the tea before she took another drink. "it's actually really good," ellie enthused.

"really?" you beamed, feeling quite proud of yourself.

ellie frowned but her heart soared. it was, to ellie's taste, the perfect drink.

"really," ellie confirmed. "how much do i owe?"

you swatted her away, smiling slyly. "consider it your tenth."

ellie faked a gasp. "is that allowed?"

"for you, yeah." you thought for a moment, chewing on your bottom lip. "but will you please bring your reward card back sometime so that i can stamp it? i bought a bunch of cute stamps and i don't really get to use them 'cause no one ever-"

"absolutely," ellie replied seriously, eyes flicking over your face. this would possibly, definitely, be her best fucking semester yet. ever.

and her favorite cafe. and her favorite drink.

and her favorite barista.

ellie stayed with you while you finished closing, which was sweet.

together you made plans to go to the vinyl shop, after ellie asked if she could ever see you when you weren't on the clock.

you made ellie another tea for the road, but you spent extra time decorating the cup with frilly flowers, little animal characters, and ellie's name in your very best handwriting.

ellie would hold on to that cup, too.

[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.

[eiightysixbaby]

breathing deeply, walking backwards

roller coaster, favorite ride, let me kiss you one last time

word count: 5.7k

pairing: best friend!eddie x fem!reader

summary: an evening at the fair leads to a big confession from your best friend (who you just so happen to have feelings for)

cw: mentions of food/eating, friends to lovers, use of y/n, and that’s literally all I can think of bc this is a bunch of sweet fluff

author’s note: this is just a sweet little idea that’s been hanging out in my brain all summer, and I’m excited to put it out there finally! it’s really just a bunch of sickeningly sweet ooey gooey fluff, the stakes are not very high here lol I just wanted to write something cute that didn’t feel as daunting to work on. I love the idea of going to the fair with eddie, so this was fun for me. enjoy!

Hawkins Fun Fair, summer of 1986. The warm air was sweet. It smelled of kettle corn and cotton candy, kissed your nose with the enticing scents and lured you in. The sun had just began to set, casting the sky in orange and violet and pink. All around you kids ran rampant, excitedly stomping over the grass with snow cones in hand. You found yourself getting lost looking at the big lightbulbs blinking on all of the carnival rides, when suddenly you felt a pair of arms wrap around your middle, picking you up and hoisting you over a shoulder.

“Eddie!” you squeal, laughing and pretending to pound on his back in protest.

“Come on, space cadet, you were trailing behind! Don’t want you to get lost now do we?” Eddie chuckles, walking quickly to keep up with the rest of your group.

Steve, Nancy, Jonathan, and Robin had all gone ahead, debating on what to do first. The kids had run off to god knows where, Lucas and Dustin arguing over which ride to go on first. You breathe in Eddie’s scent, cologne and weed and boy, and it mixes to create the most enticing combination. You want to climb into his cutoff tank-top and live there forever. Eddie finally sets you down on the ground once you’re caught up with the rest of your friends, having found them in line for some funnel cakes.

“Wanna get one to share?” Eddie asks, wiggling his eyebrows to get a laugh from you.

“Is that even a question?” you reply, already pulling out your wallet and a few dollar bills.

You give Eddie a glare that says, ‘I’m paying, so don’t even try it’ before he can protest. He usually always pays when you two go out together, even though you insist he doesn’t have to. He’s just sweet like that, always has been.

The two of you have been friends for only a short amount of time, joining forces at the start of the last school year - your first senior year and Eddie’s third (and final!). But man, did you guys get close over the span of less than a year. You’re basically attached at the hip, your other friends already knowing that if you or Eddie are invited somewhere, the other is tagging along.

The only issue is that you’ve started catching feelings for the curly haired boy you spend all of your time with. You hadn’t told him, just let the ever growing feelings consume you in silence. You’d confided only in Robin and Nancy, who both let you ramble on and on whenever you needed to. They’ve told you countless times to go for it, that Eddie would be silly not to be into you, that he totally is sweet on you, but you just can’t bring yourself to do it. What if it makes everything awkward?

What you didn’t know, was that Eddie had feelings for you, too. Big feelings, heart wrenching feelings for you. Steve and Jonathan were his confidants, his right hand men in trying to convince him to take the plunge and confess to you. Jonathan told him how he once asked Nancy if she thought you might like Eddie, to which Nancy got flustered and awkwardly denied, which he found suspicious. Of course, Eddie hardly listened to any of this. He wanted to confess to you, so badly wanted to open the doors to wonderful things if it all went right. But if you didn’t reciprocate the feelings, it could ruin everything. That was a very big ‘if’ to Eddie, and he couldn’t risk it.

So, you two were just friends. Really close friends who cuddled on the couch during movie nights and basically went on dates without calling them dates, who gave each other the biggest heart eyes constantly yet didn’t realize it.

A warm funnel cake on a paper plate is placed into your hands, Eddie grabbing a fistful of napkins beside you. The smell of the dessert wafts into your nose, making your mouth water. You delicately rip off a piece, letting the warm dough and sweet powdered sugar practically melt in your mouth.

“Mmm, so fuckin’ good,” you groan around your mouthful, licking the white powder off of your fingers rather ungracefully.

Eddie sighs blissfully as he takes his first bite, a much bigger piece of the cake than yours, and he swallows before you could even catch if he chewed it first.

“It’s almost as sweet as you,” he says, grinning as he, too licks the powdered sugar from his fingertips.

You catch Nancy and Robin giving you a look after he says it, and you blush a little under their gazes.

“What’re you buttering me up for, Munson?” you ask playfully, elbowing him in the side as the group continues to walk.

Eddie just shrugs, a smirk on his face as he continues to pick at the funnel cake. You don’t want to tear your eyes away from him, his big chocolate brown eyes so sincere when they look at you and his dark curls cascading over his shoulders, shaking when he laughs too hard. You can’t help but watch every time he brings a powder-covered finger to his mouth, licking the sweetness off of it. You swear he’s doing it slowly just to drive you crazy. You flush at all of the possible scenarios that swirl in your mind with that image and stare down at your shoes as they trod through the grass. You’re torn from your thoughts when he grabs your arm excitedly, pulling you over to a carnival game booth with huge fluffy teddy bears hanging from the backdrop.

“I am so gonna win you one of these,” he says confidently, cracking his knuckles like he’s about to kick some ass.

“Are you doing this because you want to win me a bear or because you want prove that you can win these rigged games?” you tease, watching as he rubs his hands together eagerly and passes the attendant some tickets to play.

The objective seems to be simple enough - throw some darts, pop six balloons and you win a big prize. The catch is, you only have ten darts. Eddie’s first attempt goes alright, but he only ends up popping four balloons.

“Aw, it’s okay Eds,” you say, getting ready to turn and walk away from the booth before he stops you.

“Ah-ah. Nope, no way I’m giving up that easy,” he shakes his head, handing the attendant more tickets.

You roll your eyes at his determinedness, never willing to back down from a challenge. Your heart races though, secretly loving the idea of him winning you something. His tongue pokes out of his mouth, his eyes narrowing as he eyes the targets. He wiggles his ass exaggeratedly, getting into position and making you snort. He draws his arm back, dart poised between three fingers, and then he lets go.

Pop!

He pumps his fist, flexing his biceps at you, really putting on a dramatic show for this. He’s so gorgeous you feel like you could die.

“You still have nine more to go, Munson. We’ll see if you can do it again,” you tease, hiding your affection, making him clutch his chest in mock offense.

Much to your surprise, he pops the remaining five balloons almost entirely in a row. Eddie is nothing if not competitive and determined, and his desire to win you a prize fueled him even more.

“Haha! What did I tell ya, sweets? I knew I could win,” he boasts, rocking on the balls of his feet.

The worker hands you a large, brown, fluffy teddy bear with a pink bow wrapped around its neck. You squeeze the bear with a grin, giving Eddie a hug and a thank you for winning you the prize. You hoist the bear over your shoulders so it looks like it’s sitting on them, holding onto its fuzzy legs carefully. You run ahead to catch Steve and Jonathan, who laugh at the size of the bear.

“Geez, Eddie, think you picked a big enough prize?”Steve asks.

“Mmm, no, but this was the biggest they had,” he contemplates, giving you a big smile when you meet his eyes.

You walk ahead with Steve and Jonathan, the latter turning around to mouth to Eddie, ‘ask her out!’. Eddie just laughs and shakes his head, but he can’t deny the way his heart pounds as he watches you excitedly show off your bear. Smitten with the way your eyes light up, the happy bounce in your every step.

Deciding that you’re hungry again, the funnel cake simply being a filler snack, you get in line with Eddie and Robin for some actual food to munch on, finding Max and Lucas already waiting at the same stand. Your eyes scour the small menu in indecision as you talk to Robin, and Max overhears you telling her that Eddie won the bear for you, turning to Lucas with her hands on her hips, ready to rile him up.

“See, Lucas? Why don’t you be a good boyfriend like Eddie and win me a bear?” she teases him, laughing when Lucas gets flustered and stumbles on his words.

You and Eddie avoid eye contact, Robin catching the way you squirm after Max’s implication that Eddie is your boyfriend.

“I’m not….” Eddie starts.

“He’s not my-” you say simultaneously.

But Max is no longer listening, now playfully arguing with Lucas. Your cheeks feel hot, flustered by the situation. You peer cautiously over at Eddie, whose cheeks are pink as he chews on his bottom lip - a nervous habit. He meets your eyes and gives you a sheepish little smile, before you’re taken from the moment by the food truck employee asking for your order.

The awkwardness is washed away once your food arrives, you and Eddie sharing a tray of cheese fries to go with your chili dog. You immediately retreat back into your comfortable friendly nature as you pick at the steaming pile of fries. You can’t help but wonder, though, what was going through his head when Max said what she did. He didn’t seem offended, or repulsed, or anything like that. He seemed shy and flustered just like you, nervous even. Your head spins trying to piece it together, before you’re shaken from your thoughts at Eddie reaching towards you, wiping a stray bit of gooey cheese sauce that had been left on the corner of your mouth.

“Can a girl get a warning first?” you laugh, watching him wipe the cheese on a napkin.

“Sorry, sweets, y’made a mess. Wanted to help,” he grins, knowing you can’t keep up your teasing when he flashes his smile at you.

Before you can really react, or even blush at his actions, Nancy’s calling your attention.

“Come over here, let’s get in line for this ride!” she’s beaming, Robin waiting eagerly at her side.

“Can I trust you to hold Mr. Bear while I go on this ride?” you ask Eddie, looking him over in pretend contemplation.

“Cross my heart, doll,” Eddie swears, his index finger drawing an x over his heart.

You hand him the stuffed toy, running to meet the girls in line. The ride in question has a bunch of little cars on a platform that spins, and the cars themselves have wheels in the center so you can spin yourselves at your discretion. It doesn’t take long before you’re loading into a blue car with flashing lights on the outside, the three of you positioning your hands on the large wheel in the middle.

Eddie stands off to the side, chewing the inside of his cheek as he watches you. His thoughts won’t let him catch a break, replaying your reaction to Max referring to him as your boyfriend, taking note of the fact that you didn’t necessarily seem upset about it. He thinks about your smile when he won you your prize, thinks about Jonathan and Steve giving him ‘the look’ and imploring him to ask you out.

He swears he feels his heart soaring as the ride starts, and he watches as you laugh under the blinking lights and the last bit of a glow from the setting sun. He wishes you could see yourself the way he sees you in this moment, hair blowing in the breeze, mouth open in a never ending laugh, happy and surrounded by friends who love you dearly. The feelings he harbors for you are clawing at his insides, fighting to make their way out. He doesn’t know if it’s possible to hold them down for much longer. Butterflies take flight in his stomach when you catch his eye, giving him a little wave as your car spins round and round.

The ride ends and you come bounding giddily out of the exit gate with the girls by your side, crying laughing at Nancy’s hair - which is now windswept and sticking every which way. Eddie stands waiting for you, smiling at you as you come up beside him.

“Have fun, ladies?” he asks, giving Nancy a raised eyebrow over her hairdo.

“Don’t even say it, Munson,” she laughs, leaning into Jonathan’s side, who’s appeared next to her.

“It was so much fun,” you beam at him, eyes bright as they meet his. “I’ll have to get you on a ride with me.”

“Anything you wanna do, sweets,” Eddie grins.

“Did you take good care of my bear while I was gone?” you ask him, reaching for the stuffed toy.

“Oh yeah. We had a very enlightening conversation,” he jokes, handing the bear back to you.

You giggle at this, watching as Eddie pretends to whisper something in the bear’s fuzzy little ear before handing him back to you. He shyly excuses himself to find a bathroom, leaving you standing with the rest of the group - save for Steve who got dragged somewhere by Dustin.

In all honesty, Eddie just needed a minute away to get his thoughts straight. His body feels like it’s vibrating he’s so head over heels for you, and he’s unsure what to do or how to do it. He doesn’t even find a bathroom, just paces around, weaving in and out of groups of excited kids and less excited parents. He doesn’t feel like he’s coming to any sort of conclusion, supposing he should’ve brought Jonathan along with him to bounce his thoughts off of. One thing he knows for sure, is that it’s becoming increasingly difficult to be strictly friendly towards you. Something’s gonna slip one way or another, and Eddie thinks he wants to have control over that situation.

He starts to circle back in the direction that he left you, palms sweating in the pockets of his jeans as he overthinks himself into a frenzy.

He stops dead in his tracks when he spots you huddled with Nancy and Robin on the side of one of the carnival booths, seemingly deep in conversation. Ducking away before you can spot him, he lingers just around the corner from where you are. He knows he shouldn’t, but his curiosity gets the best of him as he cranes to listen to what you’re saying.

“-and Max referred to him as my boyfriend, and he didn’t seem, like, mad about it? Or, I don’t know, repulsed by it or anything. I swear to god he blushed and I just don’t know how to take it,” your voice rambles.

“Y/N, he won you a fucking teddy bear. That’s about as obvious as he could be without putting a flashing neon sign above his head that says ‘I love Y/N L/N’,” he hears Robin retort, and his cheeks flush with slight embarrassment.

“Okay, listen, even if he likes me let’s not get carried away and say he loves me…” you try to defend.

“I’m with Rob on this one, hun,” Nancy butts in, “this is just the icing on the cake of all of the other things you two do that are so much more than just friendly.”

“Thank you, Nance,” Robin enunciates. “Seriously, babe, I just think it’s about time you admit your feelings to him. He deserves to know, and he’s totally going to reciprocate because he’s so clearly wildly in love with you, but even if he didn’t reciprocate this is Eddie we’re talking about and he’s just a walking teddy bear and he’d never be mean about it or-” Robin’s word vomit spills out, but Eddie can’t focus on her voice anymore.

It’s time you admit your feelings for him. You have feelings for him? Eddie feels his heart rate speed up, turning on his heel and walking away before any of you catch him eavesdropping. He ducks behind a cotton candy stand, his hands trembling with excitement. It’s like a switch is flipped in his brain, all of his reservations about confessing his feelings for you slipping away with ease. He knows what he has to do now, what he should’ve done ages ago. He can’t spend another day in a world where you aren’t his, and so he won’t.

Once he regains some composure, he walks back towards where he saw you and the girls talking. You see him coming this time, waving the arm of your teddy bear at him in greeting. He laughs, his heart feeling warm at the adorable gesture.

Jonathan, Steve, and now Dustin are standing there as well, and the girls’ previous conversation with you appears to be over. Dustin gives Eddie a look as he approaches, the older boy’s eyes trained on you the whole way over.

“What’s up with you? You look like a lovesick pup-” Dustin starts, but Eddie elbows him in the side before he can finish his sentence.

“Ow! Dude!!” Dustin remarks, but Eddie’s no longer listening, having fully turned his attention to you.

He’s about to make another smart comment, but Steve catches him before he can even get a word out, pulling him away and distracting him with the promise of an ice cream cone. Eddie can practically feel Jonathan, Nancy, and Robin’s eyes on him as he listens to you talk, excitedly pleading with him to go on another ride with you.

“I told you before, anything you wanna do I’m game for,” Eddie gives you a small smile before adding “….except that stupid roller coaster that goes in one big continuous loop. I am not risking my life today,” he points a finger at the ride in question, shaking his head as the riders are whipped upside down over and over.

You laugh at this, assuring him you’re not going to make him go on that one, instead leading him in the direction of a different ride. Eddie has hearts in his eyes as you lead him through the crowd of people, and he can’t help himself from eyeing the way your skirt bounces with every step, showing off your thighs. You turn back with a gleam in your eyes, like you’re so unbelievably happy to see him standing there, like you forgot who’s hand you were pulling towards your destination. Your ride of choice, admittedly, isn’t much more favorable to Eddie than the stupid loop-de-loop coaster. It’s designed so you stand against the wall in the big circular structure, and it spins so fast you’re basically pinned to the wall as it flies.

“What, big shot, are you nervous?” you tease him as you find a spot to stand in.

He waves you off with a shaky hand, “Me? Nervous? Pffft, yeah right,” he rolls his eyes. “Are you nervous? Need me to hold your hand?” he teases right back, shrieking when you slap him playfully on the arm.

“This ride’s always been my favorite, so, no. I think I’ll be fine,” you assure, standing up straighter as if to prove your confidence to him.

In actuality, you haven’t been on a ride like this since you were a little kid, and now as you waited for it to start the nerves were setting in a little. Before you can debate it any longer, the door shuts and rainbow lights flash inside the ride, illuminating the darkness. It starts moving, and you grip the handles beside you, watching as Eddie does the same. You squeal as you start to spin faster, listening as Eddie lets out a very nervous groan beside you. He squeezes his eyes shut, and honestly he thinks he must’ve blacked out for the worst of it because before he knows it, the spinning slows. He comes back to reality, looking down and processing that his hand is gripping yours, his knuckles white where they’re linked between your fingers. It’s not like you two haven’t held hands before, you certainly have, but this time has a different context, at least in Eddie’s mind. He has new knowledge now, and he blushes ferociously as his eyes stay locked on your linked hands.

You felt Eddie grip your hand in the middle of the ride, your brain laser focusing on it as the world spun around you. You catch his eyes finally now that the ride is stopped, and the two of you just look at each other for a moment. You ignore the people exiting around you, zeroed in on each other. The way Eddie’s looking at you feels different, and you don’t know why but it’s making your pulse hammer in your chest. It takes the ride attendant calling stragglers off to get you to drop Eddie’s hand, fixing your hair as you walk off the ride.

Neither of you say a word, and honestly you don’t think you could get words to form right now if you tried. Your head is spinning, and you can’t tell if you’re dizzy from the ride or just overly in love with your best friend. You wish he’d take your hand again, wish he’d never let it go, but before you can think about it for too long, Steve is approaching from where he stands by a metal fence surrounding your ride, holding your teddy bear out to you. Eddie jumps beside you, as if he forgot there were other people around him, and you wonder if he was just as lost in thought as you were. Robin and Nancy’s voices ring in your head. You need to confess your feelings. He deserves to know.

“Come on you guys, quit dragging your feet! We have to go on the ferris wheel while they do the fireworks!” Steve says, hurrying both of you along.

Oh, right. Fireworks. You loved the fireworks Hawkins put on every year, always dragging your friends to see them with you. You’re more than excited to get to share them with Eddie this time around. Your chest vibrates with a euphoric feeling, Eddie still walking beside you as you head towards the ferris wheel.

“Wanna sit with me?” you ask him teasingly, knowing he’d never tell you no.

“Hmmm, I’ll have to think about that one, princess,” he says, pretending to contemplate as you shove his side lightly.

He’s grateful for the conversation starter from you, glad you pulled him out of his nervous brain.

“I suppose the bear is sitting with us, too?” he smiles.

“Well, duh, we can’t make him sit alone. That would be rude,” you say, matter-of-factly.

“Oh, of course, of course. Forgive me for even implying such a thing,” Eddie offers the bear an apologetic bow, almost tripping over a stray electrical cord, which sends you into a fit of giggles.

Eddie loves the sound of your laugh, he strives to be the cause of it whenever he can. He’s going to tell you how he feels. On this ferris wheel, at the top as you watch the fireworks, he’s going to tell you. He stands in the line with you, palms sweating in the pockets of his jeans. The lights on the giant wheel blink intermittently, bright colors flashing and casting a glow over you as he watches you watch them. You both step up to the man taking tickets, and you step forward into the open bench seat that waits for you. You’re busy stuffing your bear into the seat beside you when Eddie passes the attendant a twenty dollar bill.

“You’ll be doing me a huge favor if you stop us at the top during the fireworks,” he murmurs to the guy, who gives a firm nod in response, pocketing the cash.

Maybe twenty was a bit steep for a small favor, but anything’s worth it when it comes to you. Eddie needs his perfect moment. You’re just about to turn and question whether he’s coming or not when he appears at your side, sliding into the seat beside you. It’s the bear on the left, you in the middle, and Eddie on the right. You’re giddy like a child when a tester firework gets set off, preparing everyone for the real show. Eddie swallows thickly, watching you as your hands grip the metal bar that secures you both in your seat.

Soon, you’re moving slowly backwards and up, stopping periodically to let more people on more empty cars. The sky is a rich navy blue, stars peeking out and blinking down at you as you look up. Your heart races for a reason you aren’t sure of, your mind still stuck on Eddie grabbing your hand earlier, amongst a million other things he’s done. Your car stops perfectly at the top, and you peer down to see that the other cars are all full.

“Oooh! We’re going to be right at the top for this!” you grip Eddie’s arm excitedly, and he thinks he’d be perfectly fine if the smile on your face right now was the last thing he ever saw.

He shares in your excitement, thanking the ride attendant in his mind for not just pocketing his money and not complying with his request.

“I think this might just be the best seat for fireworks, ever,” you say, turning to look at him. “Mr. Bear agrees,” you add, giggling when Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Mr. Bear has nothing to compare this to. Of course he agrees,” he says, feigning hurt when you slap him gently on the arm. Nevertheless, he’s ecstatic that you’re this happy about your viewpoint for tonight’s show.

Before you can continue the bit, a couple of fireworks light up the sky, booms rumbling in your chest.

Eddie takes a deep breath, grounding himself. This is it, he thinks. You have to do it now.

“Hey, uh, sweetheart?” he asks, wincing when his voice cracks ever so slightly.

“Yeah, Eds?” you reply, barely turning to face him as you watch the glittery explosions in the night sky.

“There’s something I need to tell you…” he says, his mouth going dry. You actually look at him now, brows furrowing.

“What’s up? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine, it’s not- I mean I hope it’s not a bad thing. What I’m about to tell you, I mean,” he’s nervously rambling now, you know he gets like this. You squeeze his hand, calming him.

“What is it, Eddie?” your voice is soft, and the way you’re looking at him is making him melt.

“I don’t want to just be friends with you anymore,” he starts, squeezing your hand back. “I like you, I like you so fucking much, sweetheart,” his eyes are searching yours, his voice surprisingly calm given his frantic look.

“Eddie, I-”

“I’ve been hiding this for so long, I didn’t wanna ruin what we have already, but… I overheard you talking with Robin and Nance before, and unless I misunderstood I have a feeling you feel the same way,” he’s smiling shyly, and you can tell even in the dim light that he’s blushing.

More fireworks boom and crackle, your heart pounds with a timbre that rivals them.

“I do, Eddie,” you reply, and you can’t even try to hold back the grin that spreads across your face. Neither can he, his pearly white teeth on display for you, and he’s so beautiful. “I didn’t say anything for the same damn reason,” you laugh a little, shaking your head. “I guess we’re both stupid for not seeing the signs, huh?”

“Yeah. Yeah we are,” he agrees, his voice soft as he lets himself melt into your eyes.

He thinks you’re the prettiest thing in the world. He’s glad he can tell you that now with no fear.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, voice breathy now.

Your heart is beating a mile a minute at his compliment, eyes looking away in a rare moment of shyness around the man you’ve been the closest to for months now. You don’t respond, can’t get the words out when he’s looking at you the way that he is. You let him lean in closer, let him rest his palm on your cheek, let your eyes flutter shut as his nose brushes yours.

Then, he’s kissing you. He’s finally fucking kissing you.

Eddie feels like his foot is about to start thumping like a dog that’s being scratched in the perfect spot. You feel like your heart might burst right here, right now on the ferris wheel seat. Your lips slot against his like you were made for each other, molded just right. Fireworks go off in your chest, rivaling the display in the sky. When you finally pull away, both of Eddie’s hands are cupping your face, and your hands are fisted in the collar of his shirt. His smile is radiant, the only thing you want to look at for the rest of your life.

Sparks crackle in the sky, quicker now, and you know the show must be ending soon. Your head goes to rest on Eddie’s shoulder as you both watch the bursts of color erupt. They seem to reach out to you, it feels like you could touch them if you stretched your hand out far enough. His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you as close to him as possible. You feel like there’s a million things you could say to each other, but it can wait. The fireworks show pounds and bangs and sizzles to a vibrant close but Eddie’s touch sends its own sparks over your skin, zaps of electricity flowing through you. You feel like you’re floating when the ride finally takes you back down to the ground and you step out of your bench seat, holding Eddie’s hand. He pulls you to him as soon as you’re away from the crowd of people shuffling through the fairgrounds, his hands resting on your lower back.

His lips find yours once more amidst a clash of teeth, both of your smiles too big to stay out of the way. “Eddie, Eddie, wait,” you say, still smiling as you pull away. “What does this make us, then?” you ask, eyes searching his as he holds you in place.

“Well, that depends. Do you want to be my girlfriend?” he asks, a boyish grin playing on his lips.

“Well now that depends. Do you want to be my boyfriend?” you counter, your top teeth tugging at your bottom lip.

“It would be an honor to hold that title, sweet girl.” Eddie says, bowing slightly, the dramatics in full swing as usual.

You erupt into giggles, mock-curtsying in response. “Then I would love to be your girlfriend.”

Eddie lifts you off the ground, spinning you before he kisses you again. He feels like it’s just you and him in that moment, his brain blurring out the laughter and conversations from passersby. It’s only when Robin’s gasp shakes you both from the moment that he comes back down to earth. He sets you down, you shyly leaning into his side as your friends look at you, amused and smug at the fact that they were right this entire time.

“Finally,” Nancy smirks.

“Took you long enough,” Jonathan adds, patting Eddie firmly on the back.

“Yeah, yeah, okay everyone. You were right, we get it, blah blah blah,” Eddie rambles. “Now if you’ll excuse us, my girlfriend and I are going to head out for the night I think,” he says, looking down at you with a lovesick grin.

“Ew,” Dustin groans. “I don’t even wanna know what you guys are planning on doing,” he grimaces, Eddie stepping forward to ruffle his hair.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Henderson, I’m gonna take my lady to get some food,” Eddie says, turning around to face you. “That sound good, sweetheart?”

You nod eagerly, taking his hand as he steps back to you, your bear tucked under your other arm. You bid your friends goodbye for the night, laughing at the wolf whistles from Steve and Robin as you walk away hand-in-hand.

“Where are you taking me, handsome?” you ask, swinging your hands as you walk.

“The diner sound good? That’s our usual haunt but, now it’s a real date,” Eddie knocks his shoulder to yours, shyness poking through his boisterous demeanor.

“Sounds perfect,” you say, dropping his hand then. “I’ll race you to the van.”

“Oh, and you’re so gonna lose, baby,” he enunciates the last word, letting it sink into your skin. It catches you off guard just how he wanted it to, and you stand there stricken as you realize how much you like hearing him call you that.

“No way you’re winning now!” Eddie calls, having already started running.

“Hey! You’re a dirty cheater!” you gasp, trying and failing to catch up with him.

Everything feels right with the world as you sprint past children and food stands and bright lights. Your eyes stay focused on the man running ahead of you, like he’s your bright light guiding you. His giggles and taunts can be heard as he throws them over his shoulder at you, and his laughter’s never been more beautiful. It’s just you two against the world now. The way it always should have been. Navigating life with Eddie is your favorite ride, and you laugh wildly as you imagine what’s yet to come.

[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?

[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.

[hawkeyetrained]

Bait

Derek Hale x Fem!reader 

Other Characters: Peter Hale, Stiles, Lydia, Scott, Malia (mentioned), Liam (mentioned)

Warnings: angst, fighting, cuts and scrapes

Summary: When girls are being killed in Beacon Hills, and looks just like her, she gives the idea of using herself as bait.

Word Count: 2,427

Summer in Beacon Hills brought on a heat wave this year, making everything in the supernatural world that much harder. Lydia and I had gone shopping a week or so prior, so the two of us had gotten lucky with some clothes prepared for the heat, but the rest of the pack didn’t think to plan ahead. Most of the boys had traded in their long sleeves and flannels for t-shirts fairly quickly, opting to get out of the werewolf heat along with the heat from the sun.

The pack and I had been close since Scott first turned. I basically grew up with Lydia as my best friend, and Scott and Stiles were always around. When I first met Derek, I was in the woods with the boys when they had lost Scott’s inhaler. Ever since that day, the former alpha and I had been inseparable.

Now, we were halfway through our summer break before senior year and facing the latest big bad that decided to terrorize our little town. Stiles had noticed the pattern far before any of us did, alerting us to the bodies of young girls who had begun turning up in the woods, all having one scary connection. The four bodies that had been found were all going into their senior year here at Beacon Hills High and had H/C hair and E/C eyes, just like me. When Derek heard of the connection, I was no longer allowed to go out into the woods at all or be left alone anywhere. I was to be watched 24/7 until we caught whatever was killing the girls. I was alright with his plan, wanting to make him happy, but I was also scared that I would be the next body in the woods that Sheriff Stilinski would find.

“Hey.” A voice snapped me from my daydream on the couch in Derek’s loft. “You alright?” It was Peter, knelt down in front of me, his eyes full of worry.

I nodded and gave him a soft smile. “I’m ok.” Of his relationships with the rest of the pack, he and I got along the best. Peter could sense the love Derek and I held for each other, basically from day one, and was very protective of that. He never snapped at me, would bring me what I needed if I asked for it, and had volunteered to stay with me when I worked or needed a ride if Derek happened to be busy.

“You’re lying.” Damn the werewolf hearing. “Your heartbeat changes when you lie, it almost literally skips a beat.” He had a soft smirk on his face to show me he meant no offense.

I ran a hand through the ends of my hair as the last of the pack finally showed up for the meeting. “Just worried, I guess.” He stood and held his hands out to pull me to my feet, allowing me to drift over to Derek’s side as the meeting began.

“Any leads?” The true alpha asked, earning shaking heads and shrugs from the rest of the pack.

The werewolves went back and forth for a while, exchanging ideas on how to catch the new creature, trying to figure out what exactly it was, while Lydia and I shared looks between the two of us, almost having a silent conversation.

So, when I spoke up, she wasn’t all that surprised. “We know what it goes after.”

“We do.” Peter nodded, trying to see where I was going with it and wanting to see if he’ll need to calm his nephew down when I made my point.

“What if we set up a trap?”

“And how do we do that?” Derek’s eyes locked on me with his arms crossed over his chest.

I took a moment to square off my shoulders and hide the fear creeping up in my body that nearly everyone in the room could smell. “You need bait, to draw it out.”

“We can’t just send some random girl from the school, that knows nothing of the supernatural, out into the woods and hope they don’t get killed before we find our monster.” Stiles retorted, throwing his hands in the air.

I rolled my eyes and watched as Lydia smacked the back of his head. “She doesn’t mean someone random.”

Her comment made every set of eyes land on my face, my cheeks going red from all the attention. “What? We know that whatever this is, likes girls going into senior year here with H/C hair and E/C eyes.” I waved my hands to my face. “I kinda fit the description if you don’t remember.”

“No.” Derek growled out quickly. “No way in hell are you going to play bait for this monster.”

“Derek’s right.” Peter agreed with his nephew.

I groaned. “I can’t just sit around and wait for another body to drop when I know there’s something I can do! I get it, I’m human and therefore have no chance against this thing, but I’m also not saying I’ll be alone. Scatter yourselves through the woods, keep an eye on me as I walk around. This could be the only chance we get to stop this thing before it kills another girl we’re supposed to graduate with!”

“Not going to happen.” Came from Derek again.

I was about to speak again when Stiles’s phone rang through the loft. He answered quickly and had a quiet conversation with whoever was on the other end. “So, that was my dad.” My movements froze and I could feel Derek stiffen up next to me. “There’s another body, a lot closer to town this time.”

“Who?” Scott asked.

Stiles shrugged. “Caroline Mathews, I think he said. She’s been missing for three days.”

Caroline and I had the same chemistry class back in sophomore year, we were even lab partners for the better half of the year. “I knew her.” I mumbled.

This was the first girl to die with one of us truly knowing her. It had just been newer girls to the school that we all hadn’t met yet, or ones that we never shared classes with throughout the years. “Really?” Lydia came over to my side as I gave her a nod.

“She was my lab partner in chem two years ago. We used to joke around with Miss Mitchel that we were each other since we looked so alike.” Lydia wrapped an arm around my shoulder comfortingly. My eyes flashed up to Derek. “Please, you have to let me do this. I don’t want more families suffering because their daughter was killed. It’s bad enough we’re up to five now. Please.” My eyes were wide, and my heart pounded in my chest, waiting for the next “no” to leave his lips.

He hesitated before dropping his crossed arms and grabbing my hand. “Can we talk a minute?” I nodded, taking his hand tightly and following him out onto the balcony and into the summer heat. “You really want to risk your life on something we can figure out soon?”

“I know you’re scared, ok, I’m scared. But I also don’t want anyone else dying when there’s a chance that I can help stop this. Please. I’ll do everything you say and stay within eyesight. I swear to you.”

A deep sigh left Derek’s mouth and he suddenly pulled me into his chest tightly. “You do exactly as I say, and we do this tonight and tonight only. Anything goes south, you yell for help, even if we’re right there.” I nodded into his chest, hugging him back before we both went back inside to tell the pack of the plan for tonight.

Six hours later, I had added a green jacket to my outfit and had begun walking around the woods. The sun was slowly setting, and the rest of the pack was spread through the woods, Derek and Peter closest to me, flanking both of my sides about 500 feet away. The rest of the pack was spread out, listening for any strange sounds that shouldn’t belong or any odd scents. My heart pounded in my chest as I wondered around the woods, trying to keep track of where I was and where I had come from. I knew Derek wouldn’t let me get lost, but I wanted to make sure that I could run if I needed to.

My phone buzzed in my jacket pocket, my fingers flying to the object and pulling it up. A text from Lydia lit my screen up. Anything yet?

I quickly typed a message back. Nothing.

A message from Derek was next, popping to the top of my screen. Take a deep breath. You’re safe. Only a little longer before we call it a night.

My eyes flickered in the direction I knew Derek was following me, my eyes searching impossibly in the dark for him. I left the message open, not really knowing what to say or how to tell him that I was absolutely terrified being out in the woods, even though it was my idea to start.

Suddenly, there were heavy footsteps coming up from behind me, and moving fast. I quickly locked my phone, trying to slide it back in my pocket. Just as I was about to yell out for Derek and Peter, a body slammed into mine, sending me crashing to the ground and my phone flying away. Fear gripped me like a vice, squeezing my chest tighter and tighter as my brain tried working on what to do. I knew I needed to call out for the two Hale’s in the woods, to get up and run as fast and as far as I could, but nothing was working.

Deep growls filled the woods next, hands gripping onto my arms and pinning me into the dirt. I finally managed to crack my eyes open to get a look at what was huffing loudly, only to come face-to-face with an unfamiliar werewolf. His face was shifted, deep brown hair ruffled around his face and fangs barred at me with glowing blue eyes.

My chest tightened as his claws started digging into my skin. God, where were Derek and Peter? I struggled in the wolf’s hold, trying to pull my hands free, kicking against his weight but it was useless. Then I remembered Derek’s rule; yell, even if I knew he and Peter were close.

Taking the deepest possible breath, I finally managed to get my head together. “Derek!” My voice came out as a shriek, piercing through the air. “Derek, Peter!” I screamed, pulling as hard as I could against the weight. The hand that had been wrapped around my right wrist was suddenly squeezing at my throat, cutting off any other screams.

“No one’s here.” The wolf taunted. “It’s just you and me.” A sick smile crossed his face, enhancing the supernatural features. His claws pressed harder into my wrist and throat, a gasp of pain leaving my lips as he seemed to toy with me. “No one’s coming for you.”

The clawed hand at my throat raised into the air above me, making to slash at my throat, but before he was able to, a body crashed into him. The strange wolf and someone else went tumbling a few feet away from me, allowing me just a moment to sit up and huff in a few breaths of air before hands were wrapping around my shoulders.

“No! No, let me go!” I screamed, smacking at the hands on me.

“Hey, hey.” A familiar voice soothed. “You’re safe. I got you.” Peter turned me in his arms, grabbing at my chin to make me look up at him. “Look at me. You’re ok.”

I took a shaky breath and finally looked up to him. “Peter.” My word fell as a whisper.

The older Hale nodded, pulling me against his chest as new growls filled the air. Peter pulled me a bit farther from the space he had found me in. I turned as we got to the side of a large tree, Derek, Scott, Malia, and Liam were all stood in a line between me and the other wolf. I could hear Scott trying to talk with the wolf, but Peter’s gentle hands on my wrists distracted me.

“Are you alright?” He asked, voice low and very quiet. I nodded shakily, glancing down to the half dozen moon-shaped cuts along my wrists. Peter’s arms were laced with black veins as the pain subsided, his eyes looking at the scratches on my neck.

“Thank you.” I shuddered, no longer liking my own plan, but I was glad that the pack had found the wolf, and not another girl I was to graduate with this year.

A loud roar seemed to shake the ground, and I managed to catch sight of Derek slamming the wolf into the ground. It seemed like he had tried making a run between him and Liam, aiming for me yet again. Peter was in front of me the moment he caught his nephew’s movement, his teeth bared and a growl rumbling his chest.

“Leave.” Derek hissed, his teeth shining in the moonlight. A threat that I couldn’t hear left his lips, the wolf on the ground seeming to come back to himself a little. “You three, make sure he leaves.” Derek pulled the wolf up and shoved him towards the werewolves and werecoyote. After the wolf and our three pack members were far enough into the woods, Derek finally turned to me, his fangs retracting and his eyes softening from their bright blue back into his usual eyes. “Are you alright?” He asked, coming up and instantly wrapping his arms around me.

I nodded carefully into his chest. “I am now.”

He pulled back and gently took my hands into his, turning them over to check the cuts. “He did this? He say anything to you?” His hand then cupped my cheek as he raised my head to look at my neck.

“His claws.” I answered the first question. “And nothing important. He tried scaring me more than anything. Said no one was coming.”

“I should have come faster. He set traps in the woods to draw our attention away.”

My head shook at him. “You saved me. I’m sorry I had this plan. I know you didn’t like it.”

“It’s fine now. But you’re never playing bait again, you hear me?” He started leading me out of the woods, back towards the pack.

“I hear you.”

@thetallassgirl @hallecarey1

[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

[daechwitatamic]

2. Retrograde || KSJ

(banner by @itaeewon)

Title: Amalthea (Masterpost) - Part 2: Retrograde

Rating: NSFW - minors go away i mean it Genre: best friend's older brother!au, angst smut fluff trifecta Pairing: Seokjin x female reader Beta team: @yoongiphoria, @here2bbtstrash, @kookstempo

Summary: You can count on two things in life. One: that your lifelong best friend Minji will always be there for you, in your corner, your brightest star. Two: that you'll never be free from her older brother Seokjin's orbit - the gravitational pull is just too strong.

Warnings: language, underage drinking, a broken bone, angst, kissing, implied protected s*x/ kind of the immediate aftermath to it, TIME JUMPS WC: 9.5k

Part 2: Retrograde

Retrograde: (noun) when celestial objects appear to travel backwards

You broke your wrist when you were ten. 

You were riding your bike around the dead end. Minji and Jungkook were away at a cousin’s house. Seokjin was down the street, on his skateboard, trying the same kickflip over and over again. Sometimes he made it. Sometimes he didn’t. You weren’t riding together. 

You don’t remember hitting the curb. You don’t remember what had distracted you. You don’t even remember flipping forward over the handlebars. Just the sickening burn that began at your wrist and pulsed in sluices up towards your elbow. 

Seokjin had run to your house to get your dad, the forgotten skateboard drifting by itself towards the run-off drain, where the wheels snagged and it stilled.

Your dad had picked you up and carried you, sobbing, into the backseat of his sedan, buckling you in. Then he’d turned and looked at Seokjin, who was standing, stone-faced, behind him. 

“Your dad’s not home,” he’d said, not a question. “I don’t want to leave you home alone - you can ride to the hospital with us. I’ll call your house when we get there and leave a message to explain.”

No one had cell phones yet, back then.

Every bump of the car jostled you and made you cry harder, holding your injury close to your chest. You weren’t even embarrassed to cry in front of Jin - it hurt so bad it eclipsed any other emotion.

And then Jin had reached out and held your uninjured hand, giving it a squeeze. 

“Hey,” he’d said, and then put on a heavy accent. “What be a pirate’s fav’rite letter?”

You’d thought about it. “Arrrr,” you guessed, proud to have figured it out.

Seokjin had grinned at you across the backseat. “You’d think it’d be ‘R’,” he cried, amped to get to deliver the punchline as intended, “but his true love be the ‘C’.”

“Good god,” your dad groaned from the front seat. But despite the unrelenting burning in your arm, you’d smiled.

–

The summer you were twelve, you’d played hide and seek outside at night. The idea came on out of nowhere. Jungkook - eleven, that year - had a few friends sleep over one night, loud boys named Taehyung and Jimin, and someone had suggested it. You remember thinking your parents wouldn’t allow it, but Mr. Kim had said it was okay as long as you stayed out of yards if you didn’t know the family that lived there, didn’t leave the dead end, and came back inside by ten o’clock.

The neighborhood felt different at night; it felt different to be set loose like this - free to run and shout and hide as the day’s sticky humidity faded into something comfortable. 

You’d split up, everybody running in separate directions, dark figures darting under streetlights and plunging into the shadows. You stuck close to the houses, trying to stay out of open spaces. You left your own yard, creeping two houses down, curling up in a ball next to someone’s shed.

I am a rock, you thought, hugging your knees as tightly as possible, making yourself as tiny as you could. I am just a rock. The dirt beneath you, gritty, dug into your knees and shins. In the distance, you could hear both trucks on the highway and the chorus of frogs in the streams behind the neighborhood. Sweat trickled between your shoulder blades.

I’m just a rock.

You heard someone’s footsteps approach you, in the dark, and then pause. You held as still as possible, trying to barely even breathe. Don’t see me, you thought. I am just a rock. 

The moment stretched, tense, and whoever thought you might be a rock decided to move on, their footsteps carrying on down the sloping yard. You released a breath, unfolding a little, looking around. Seeing no one, you stood, brushing dirt and pebbles from your legs. 

Seokjin appeared out of nowhere from the other side of the shed, and you’d stepped backwards instinctively, pressing your back against the grainy wood of the shed, holding your breath for the second time in minutes. 

He spotted you, clearly - he froze, feet away from you, looking at you through the darkness. You didn’t move a muscle, hardly dared to breathe. It was so dark that you couldn’t make out the features on his face. He was all shadow. But somehow you knew - knew - that his eyes were on yours. 

“You don’t see me,” you’d whispered to him. “I am just a rock.”

You’d heard him laugh, low, the surprised sound leaving his lips without permission. 

He should have tagged you out. But after a moment, he’d carried on, leaving you to hide again in peace. “Goodbye, rock,” he’d said, barely louder than a whisper. 

—

You were fifteen the first time you got drunk - really drunk - in Minji’s basement. You shouldn’t have - none of you should have been drinking in the first place, being underage. But Mr. Kim had gotten called into work and… it just sort of happened. 

Seokjin had a friend over and they’d holed up in the basement with a handle of vodka the friend had hidden in his duffle bag. You and Minji and Jungkook had been on them like buzzards, trying to get in on the fun. 

“Absolutely not,” Seokjin had told Jungkook, more serious than you’d ever seen him. “You’re only fourteen. You can hang out with us if you can keep your mouth shut, but you don’t get any.”

“Hyung -”

“No,” Seokjin had stayed firm, and Jungkook had caved. 

“You two,” Seokjin had said, turning his gaze to Minji, who looked back at him innocently, like she was ready to follow every rule and would never put a toe out of line, “can have a little.”

Three hours later, you made it up the stairs to the kitchen barely alive, using your hands to help you balance on the steps. You’d gone up for water, but as you stood over the kitchen sink you were distracted by your reflection in the window. And then, the backyard beyond your reflection.

Somehow, you made it outside, tripping down the wooden steps to the grassy yard, spinning and landing heavily on your back. The night sky swirled above you, the stars laughing at what an idiot you were. The grass beneath you tickled, but you gripped it in your hands, desperate to make the spinning stop. 

Somehow, Jin appeared next to you in the grass, a few feet to your left. “How’s the yard?” he asked.

“Spinning,” you told him thickly. 

He reached out a hand and patted your arm twice. “It’ll stop.”

You stayed there in silence, watching the stars, clutching the earth beneath you, hoping you wouldn’t get flung off the ride. 

“Sometimes,” you heard yourself say, your voice seeming to come from the constellations themselves, the moons too far away to see, “I feel like everyone looks right through me.”

You felt Seokjin’s eyes on you, but he didn’t say anything. 

You nodded, licked your dry lips. “Yeah,” you said, like he’d asked you something, like you’re agreeing with something he’d added on. “Like maybe I’ll be see-through forever.”

– 

You almost got a boyfriend when you were sixteen. There was a guy from school - you’d talk on the phone late at night, sit together at lunch, share answers to homework assignments before the first bell rang. 

On a particularly rainy Saturday, he’d taken you on a date to the nearest shopping mall. It had been okay - you’d had pretzels, wandered through a few department stores. 

It had been okay - until you ran into a bigger group of kids from school. You’d joined them for a while; they were his friends, and he jumped in their conversations easily, someone who belonged. You, the see-through one, smiled and listened. Always on the outskirts.

And then he’d said, “Hey, we’re going to go back to J’s dad’s house. You’ll be okay?”

It had taken you longer than you were proud of to realize he was leaving with them, leaving you alone. It had taken longer than you were proud of to feel pissed, to realize you should have done anything except smile and nod. 

He’d been your ride there.

Your parents had been working. You’d called Jin - your emergency adult. 

“Y/N?” he’d sounded confused. You’d never called him before. 

“Are you busy?” you’d asked him, the shame crawling over you, burrowing under your skin and making you want to rip it off. “I need a ride. I’m stuck.”

“What?” His voice was sharp. You could hear background noise stop, like he’d hit mute on what he was watching or paused the game he was playing. “Where are you? What happened?”

You lowered your voice, giving him the shortest version of the story possible. You were met with silence, stretching so long that you pulled the phone away from your ear to check your service, to see if you’d dropped the call. “Jin?”

“I’ll be there,” he’d said, something tight in his voice. “Wait for me by the food court.”

“Okay,” you’d whispered, and hung up.

Outside, it rained in sheets. You stood and watched the waves of rain move left to right across the parking lot. People jogged in from their cars, hoods on or umbrellas aloft. When Jin’s car pulled up to the curb, you ran through the rain, trying to shield your hair with your hands. It didn’t work at all. By the time you slid into the passenger seat, you looked half-drowned. 

“Thanks for coming,” you’d said, eyes on your shoes as Seokjin put the car back in drive and pulled slowly back into traffic.

“It’s fine,” he’d said, still terse. It was unlike him. He was so rarely serious, so rarely not making bad puns, so rarely not laughing like a windshield wiper. It made these moments feel… heavy, somehow.

He drove in silence for a little. You stewed in the passenger seat, sifting through embarrassment and anger and also - somehow - happiness to be here now, with Jin, even if it was at the cost of every cent of your dignity. 

Then, he seemed to notice the shopping bag on the floor of the car, tucked between your sneakers. 

“What’d you get?” he asked, voice light again.

“Shirt,” you told him, reaching down to pull the top from the bag and hold it up. “Cute, right?”

“Snazzy,” he agreed. “I think I should get one. You think they have my size?”

You laughed despite yourself. “You’re so lame,” you told him. “Besides, this totally isn’t your color.”

“Please!” he blustered. “I can look handsome in anything. I’d look amazing in that.”

You were really laughing by then. Minji used to get so annoyed that he made you laugh when he got like this - you were encouraging him, she said - but you genuinely found him so funny that you couldn’t help yourself. You always had. 

“Sure, okay,” you told him, stuffing the shirt back into the bag. “You keep telling yourself that.” 

As you neared your neighborhood, though, your mood sank again.

“Jin?” you asked, looking over at him. He raised an eyebrow at you, his eyes on the road.

“Could you maybe… not tell Minji? About today?”

He didn’t answer for a while, not until he came to a red light and could turn and look at you completely. “Why?” he asked. 

You could feel it as your face reddened as you had to put words to your embarrassment again. “She… was right about this guy. I should have listened to her. I just… I’m not ready to hear I told you so.”

Seokjin stopped in front of your parents’ house so you wouldn’t have to run across the street in the rain.

“I never saw you,” he promised you solemnly. “But Y/N? You shouldn’t let people treat you like this. That guy’s an ass.”

You gave him a tiny smile before extracting yourself from your seatbelt. “Thanks,” you’d said, and then darted through the rain like it would melt you.

–

Jin left for college at the end of the following summer, weeks before you turned seventeen. You watched through a gap in your living room curtains, curled up on the couch in your pajamas, as Mr. Kim and Jungkook helped load Jin’s boxes and bags into Mr. Kim’s car. 

It felt unfair, that he got to leave, that he got to turn right out of the dead end and have a life - and you were still trapped here. 

When Minji came out of the house, giving her older brother a reluctant hug, you rose, feet taking you unbidden on a course in their direction. 

Minji had grinned at you. “I’m glad you’re here, you can help me move my shit into his room.”

“Yah!” Seokjin had protested, pushing her shoulder lightly. “No one said you could have my room!”

Minji stuck her tongue out at him. “You won’t be here to stop me!” She started back into the house, then turned over her shoulder and called to you, “Come on, the bed will take forever to move!”

She disappeared into the house, leaving you and Seokjin alone next to Mr. Kim’s sedan, which was packed to the brim.

You didn’t look at each other; Seokjin leaned against the car with his arms crossed, eyes on the ground. You faced the car, and him, the house on the other side. You watched the reflection of his profile in the car’s window. 

What could you even say to him? What words could you pull out of your soul that weren’t a total cliche, or completely inappropriate, or both? 

Don’t have too much fun. 

Don’t forget me.

Please, don’t go away and fall in love without me.

I really don’t want you to go.

In the end, you told him, “See you at Christmas?” and he’d nodded silently, and you’d said, “Okay, then. Good luck with everything.”

Then you’d slinked into his house to help his little sister commandeer his bedroom. 

–

That’s only part of the story, though. If you’re flipping through moments you’d shared with Jin… there was one you skipped. You avoid it, give it a wide berth, like if you step too close you might knock it from its pedestal. Like you might get sticky fingerprints all over its protective glass just from looking, somehow. 

Mr. Kim had thrown Jin a graduation party in June, two months before he left for college. It had been wholesome while the sun was up - the Kim men had taken turns at the grill, little cousins had run barefoot through the yard, a table had been laden with gifts and cards, blue balloons had been tied to the porch railings. 

At night, though, it seemed like both children and adults disappeared, leaving only you in-betweens. Blind eyes had been turned to the cases of beer stashed beneath the sodas in the buckets of ice. Cars full of kids parked up and down the dead end street, unloading loudly and entering the even louder house. 

You’d stayed close to Minji, hadn’t even had that much to drink. But the house had been packed with people, too loud, too hot, and you’d found yourself slipping out the kitchen door sometime around one in the morning.

The lights from the house cast squares onto the driveway. Past them, a figure sat on the ground at the end of the driveway, long legs stretched out in front of him.

You’d made your way over slowly, warily. Not sure if you were wanted, not sure if you were intruding. 

He’d turned to see who it was when you approached. You think you probably imagined the way he’d softened when he saw it was only you. 

“You good?” you’d asked. 

“‘Course,” he said - which should have been a clue that he might not be. A one word answer? From Kim Seokjin?

You paused next to him, still a bit unsure. “You sure? You’re… sitting on the ground alone, outside your own party.”

Jin huffed out a laugh at this. “I just needed some air. Some space.”

“Oh,” you said, feeling instantly like you were ruining the space he’d been craving. 

“You can stay,” he’d said quickly, reading your response correctly. “I mean… I don’t mind if you’re here.”

Relief flooded you. You’d leaned against the side of the car parked there - not Mr. Kim’s sedan, you didn’t know whose car it was - and eyed him thoughtfully. 

“Are you scared?” you asked. Something about the question felt right, felt like you were zeroing in on the problem. 

Seokjin laughed again, a little sarcastic. “Me? Never.”

You smiled at his back, seeing right through his bravado. “About what? What’s the biggest thing?” 

He’d shaken his head, pushed himself to his feet, brushed gravel from his hands, then his ass. He’d turned slowly, walked back towards the house, paused just a foot from you. 

It was always you and Seokjin, in the dark. 

You were always more honest with each other in the dark. Inside, he’d be all dad jokes and video games, kitchen skills and skateboard tricks. 

You needed some shadows to get any idea what he was thinking. It had always been that way. 

“I dunno,” he’d said, hands in his pockets. “Classes. Dorms. Not having my dad around. Not being here to watch out for Jungkook.”

“That’s more than one thing,” you’d pointed out. 

He’d nodded seriously, but his lips twisted in irony, like he was thinking a very clever joke and holding it in. 

“Okay then,” he said. “Let’s go with: losing my place, here. Coming back and finding out that everyone just… moved on without me.”

He’d brushed past you then, reaching out to touch your elbow lightly on his way by.

It’s been over a decade since that night, and you still don’t know if he meant his family, or you. 

You’re mad at yourself the second you’re back in your car. You’d gone there uninvited, you’d cooked for him. Obviously it meant something - neither of you were stupid enough to think it didn’t. So why had you run the second he’d tried to talk to you?

You berate yourself the whole way home. And you’re not the only one who’s pissed. Jin texts you before you’re even out of the neighborhood, though you don’t see it until you park at your complex, grabbing your phone from the cup holder where you’d tossed it. 

[11:28 AM] Jin 😎: im confusing YOU? [11:28 AM] Jin 😎: im not the one who came to cook you breakfast and then bolted the second it got serious [11:28 AM] Jin 😎: THAT’S confusing

Defensiveness rises up in you like a wave. Where does he get off lecturing you after the shit he pulled two years ago? Hands shaking, you fire back, “no, you bolted BEFORE breakfast. the second you got your jeans zipped, if i remember correctly.”

You throw your phone onto the passenger seat like it’s burned your hands, closing your eyes and pressing your head back into the headrest, breathing out slowly through your mouth to calm your racing heart. Fuck, those had been fighting words, for sure. But you’re pretty convinced he deserves it. 

When you get brave enough to pick it up again, he hasn’t answered. You’re not sure if you’re relieved, or more worried. With a sigh, you collect your things and head inside. 

“Roomieeeeee!”

You’d barely unpacked since returning from Christmas break your freshman year of college, your suitcase open on your dorm bed, a small pile of dirty clothes on the floor next to you. You’d been about to move it all to the hamper, it just hadn’t happened yet. Your college roommate, Sheyla, had just burst through the door, crowing happily when she saw you. 

You got along well with Sheyla - you’d probably stay friends after college. But no one could take Minji’s place. When you and Minji decided to go to the same college, you’d agreed to live separately, to preserve your friendship. You both knew you needed breaks from each other to maintain the love. 

“Hey!” you called back, flapping a hoodie out of the ball you’d scrunched it in and smelling the pits. Into the dirty pile it went. “How was your Christmas?”

Sheyla tossed her bag on the ground and flopped backwards onto her bed, fingers reaching to turn on the fairy lights you’d strung up together. 

“Honestly? Boring. No one lives home by me, it was old people central the whole time. How about you?” She looks at you, suddenly sharp-eyed. “Did you see that guy? Your neighbor?” 

You glanced at the door in alarm, as if Minji could have possibly materialized there, just in time to overhear.

Sheyla clocked this and laughed. “She can’t hear us! I told you your secret was safe! So, did you?”

It had been your first holiday break going home, your freshman year of college. You’d seen Jin sparingly over the last two years - two winter breaks, two summer breaks, and the odd weekend here or there if he had things going on. 

You hadn’t had a conversation in that whole time; you’d been to the house to see Minji, but you hadn’t crossed paths. You texted each other on your birthdays, maybe once or twice if something interesting happened. 

It had been weird, feeling things shift, noticing him slowly become someone who used to be in your life. 

“Yeah, his family came to my parents’ Christmas Eve party,” you admitted. “But we really didn’t talk. He didn’t even come sit in the same room as me and Minji.”

It was true; you’d stayed in the kitchen for most of the party, wanting to avoid all your parents’ work friends, who were going to ask you about how college was going, and did you like your classes, and had you made new friends, and did you have a boyfriend yet and - you were just too tired for it. 

You and Minji had sat on the kitchen counter, crossed ankles dangling, sipping at beers and watching people pass by the doorways - one out to the living room, one out to the dining room. 

Seokjin hadn’t come into the kitchen once - but you knew he was out there, because you could hear his wild laugh, his high-pitched complaining as he scolded Jungkook for something he’d probably started in the first place, his voice bouncing over the low tones of the others. 

Jungkook had slunk into the kitchen near the end of the party. “Jinnie wants a beer,” he’d told Minji, reaching out a hand, somehow knowing you two had a six-pack behind you. 

“Why can’t he come get it?” she demanded as she reached back, fingers closing around a glass neck.

Jungkook shrugged. “He told me to get him one.”

Minji narrowed her eyes at him, the way she does when she’s assessing, deciding something. Then she handed him a second bottle. “That didn’t come from me,” she told him, and he gave her a salute before grabbing the beers and scooting back out.

“Are you and Jin fighting?” you asked, leaning back against the wooden cabinets behind you. 

“Not unless he’s fighting without telling me,” she laughed. “If that’s the case, I’ll hear about it later, I’m sure.”

It had bugged you, that he seemed to be avoiding you. Then you’d glanced out into the living room, and there he was, the beer in hand. 

He was standing facing Jungkook, but his eyes weren’t on his younger brother. They were on you - and Minji - but they seemed… far away. Wistful, somehow. Then, he’d noticed you looking and he’d pulled his gaze back to Jungkook fast. But the redness took over his ears and crept down his neck almost instantly. 

You still weren’t sure what that was about. The most hopeful, foolish, idiotic part of you hoped it had a guess.

“Well,” Sheyla had said with a sigh. “There’s always next time.”

You’d slept over at Minji’s that night, the two of you cramming into her double bed now that you were too old for sleeping bags on the floor. In the morning, you’d rummaged in the kitchen for something to drink - something with bubbles, preferably, but water might have to do - when Seokjin had shuffled in behind you.

You’d turned, surprised, a cold can of seltzer in your hand. “Oh,” you’d said, suddenly very aware that you were still in pajamas, hadn’t bothered with a bra. You crossed your arms, hoping for nonchalance, and tried not to eye the grey sweatpants Jin sported. “I didn’t think anyone else was up. Morning.”

He’d stretched, the movement exposing a strip of belly between the sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt. “Morning,” he’d answered, voice gravely from sleep. 

You’d watched as he started the kettle. He kept his back to you, turning over his shoulder to see if you were still there after a minute. You wanted to ask him - well, lots of things. How was college, how was he, why was he avoiding you, why was he being so fucking weird?

His back, wide and solid, said don’t. So you’d taken your seltzer and retreated back to Minji’s bedroom, wondering if you imagined the feeling of his gaze burning on you as you fled.

–

You were twenty when Seokjin graduated from college. You were home, too, most of your school stuff yet unpacked the morning they took his graduation pictures in the front yard. Jungkook looked barely awake, rubbing his eyes sleepily as Minji fussed over trying to get his hair to lay flat. Seokjin stood in the center of the yard in his cap and gown, and you could hear him in your head complaining that they were taking too long and could they please just hurry up and take the picture. You smiled over your cup of coffee and then removed yourself from the window before you could get caught watching. 

He’d had a graduation party that night. You really considered not going; it had been four years since Seokjin had left for college, two since you and Minji had, and in those four years you’d barely interacted - just the niceties when your paths had to cross, when your orbits swung you too close together again. It seemed pointless to show up when you wouldn’t even talk, when the days of stealing quiet moments away from everyone else were long gone. It seemed pointless to go, just to spend the night cataloging all the ways things had changed in four years, getting your feelings hurt for no reason at all.

Jin had said he was afraid of everyone moving on, but he’d nudged you on your way - so, really, you ought to just go.

Minji hadn’t understood. How could you explain it? “I don’t think he really wants me there,” you’d tried, sticking to the most basic truths. “Jin and I don’t really talk these days.”

“Since when did you and Jin talk in the first place?” she’d demanded, half right. “You’re there as my friend. Now come on, get changed!”

The sun was setting when you finally let yourself out the front door, calling goodbye to your parents, and making your way across the street. It was log-jammed with cars - a rare sight - and people milled through the front and side yards, red cups and plates of food in hand. It felt a bit like deja vu - you’d done this for all three Kim siblings for high school (though you and Minji had a joint celebration) and now you’d go through the cycle again as you four finished college in waves. 

Despite Minji’s needling, you’d felt a little off-kilter, a little out of place. The feeling had sent you into the backyard to look for the drinks before you even found Minji.

As always at their summer parties, there was a keg tucked under the deck - you had to know they put it there, or else ask someone. You’d never find it on your own as a first-timer. You threw your shoulders back to cast off the squiggly feeling in your stomach and made your way down, grabbing a plastic cup and feeling around for the spigot. 

You heard a familiar sound across the yard - Jungkook’s voice, whining that he was out of beer.

“Hyung will do it,” Seokjin said, and before you knew it he was sidling around a group of moms with their toddlers to reach the keg - and you.

He stopped when he saw you, then ducked his head and came closer, Jungkook’s empty cup in hand. His ears were tinged pink and you weren’t sure if it was from standing in the sun or… something else.

“Hey,” you’d said, taking your thumb off the spigot and watching the foam on your beer slowly fizz away. “Congrats on graduating.”

“Thanks, I guess,” he’d said, sending you a sideways grin as he pulled the spigot from your hand and started filling Jungkook’s cup. 

“You guess?” you squinted at him. That grin was disarming, devious. 

He shrugged. “I don’t feel like I really did anything that special. Showed up for class, turned in my homework.”

“You’re right,” you deadpanned. “I rescind my congratulations, effective immediately.”

His grin widened as he laughed, pleased that you were playing along. His gaze lingered on you before he checked on his beer again, making you warmer than you’d been walking through the almost-setting summer sun.

Things felt… charged, suddenly. Energized. You were used to Jin feeling comforting, like when you were kids. You were used to Jin feeling like an emotional black hole, everything inside you gravitating towards his center, as you did as a teenager. But this… this was new. 

“Are you done at school?” he’d asked, shifting slightly closer. He released the spigot, letting the foam on his beer start to settle and you picked it up again, filling the top of your own where it had settled and left empty space.

“One more final, but it’s online,” you’d said.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Jin watch you. You wondered what would happen if you said it - told him how you felt, or told him you’d felt like he didn’t want to be near you the last few times you’d seen each other, or told him how badly you wanted your hands on him.

“What’s taking so long?” Jungkook shouted from across the yard, starting to make his way over. When he saw you at the keg, his steps slowed, understanding crossing his face.

“I had to share,” Jin explained, waving a hand at you. You handed him back the spigot, finished. 

“Minji’s inside?” you asked them both, stepping out of the shadows and back into the sunlit yard. 

“I think so,” Jungkook said, and you’d given them both a quick wave and headed in. You didn’t miss the way Jungkook nudged at Seokjin’s ribs, causing him to spill the top-third of his beer.

Long after sunset, after the food had been cleaned up, after the families with little kids had said goodbye and headed home, you found yourself wandering through the backyard again. Minji had gotten a phone call from the guy she was dating and went into her room to talk - you could have sat in there with her, she wouldn’t have minded, but it kind of gave you the ick to listen to her being so sickly sweet and moonstruck. 

Instead, you combed the house for a familiar face. Jungkook had a whole group of friends over, and they were playing a drinking game in the basement. Your parents, who had joined the party in time for the food, had told Mr. Kim goodnight and headed across the street, telling you to text them if you decided to stay the night with Minji. Most of Jin’s college friends who had come from out of town had filtered out. 

You finally found Jin, nearly at midnight. He was in his room in the dark, lit up by only his phone screen. His door was mostly closed, and you hesitated in the hall, deciding to leave him alone and go back to bugging Minji in her room.

You hadn’t even turned around to retrace your steps when he called your name. Heart thumping, you’d pushed his door open a little further, hovering in the doorway. He was laying on his bed, on top of the covers, his phone screen casting his face in blue.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, turning his head sideways to look at you.

“Minji’s on the phone with the boyfriend,” you explained. “I needed to escape.”

Jin laughed, a little sputtering. 

“What are you doing?” you’d asked, taking one tentative step over the threshold. You’d been in Jin’s room very rarely in your years growing up here. It seemed like new turf. 

He told you the name of the webtoon he was reading, flashing the screen at you so you could see.

You had nodded, silent, stuck in the middle of his room. You didn’t want to leave, didn’t know how to leave. 

“Can I… read with you?” you asked, tentatively. You didn’t think, didn’t plan, didn’t map out how this would work or look; you just wanted to stay with him, just wanted to get closer.

Seokjin surprised you; he immediately shifted over on his bed, closer to the wall, making space for you.

You had to tell yourself to move, had to beg yourself to move before you stood still so long you made it weird. You’d never been in or on Jin’s bed, and you’d never laid that close before - certainly not since you and Minji were little kids, all laying on the floor together to watch a movie. Never in context like this. 

You lay next to him gingerly, afraid to break the spell, afraid the moment would burst like a bubble on a child’s sticky, eager fingertip. You felt exactly that way: like you wanted it so much, but you knew if you touched it, it would be gone. 

Your head rested next to his, close enough that you could hear his even breathing, but your bodies stayed a good foot apart. 

Still, even with the space between you, you could feel his warmth. His bed smelled like him - something deep and smokey. It could have felt thrilling - it could have felt forbidden. Instead, inexplicably, it felt comforting, peaceful. Like home.

And eventually, as you stayed there, you settled in. Your breathing slowed, your pulse calmed, and you actually got caught up in the comic on the screen. Jin held his phone above you both, waiting patiently until you murmured, “Okay,” before scrolling each time. 

You don’t remember falling asleep. What you remember is waking up slowly, immediately unsure where you were. The early morning light was unfamiliar, grey. You stretched, feet reaching for the end of the bed, and then went stock still as you felt someone shift beside you. 

Oh god. Had you hooked up with someone? Uncommon, but not impossible. 

You took a steadying deep breath, bracing yourself to face your potential mistakes, and cracked one eye open. 

Seokjin breathed through his mouth, eyelids fluttering in sleep, just next to your face. You had a split second of absolute alarm, your brain making the equivalent of !!!!, before it came back to you. 

You’d fallen asleep reading on his phone. Nothing had happened. But his arm was over your side, fingers resting lightly on your stomach. 

You stayed as still as you could, trying to make your brain stop making sounds like a broken motor, hoping Jin wouldn’t wake before you were ready to function like a human. You considered, for a moment, leaning into the situation - rolling into the cuddle, closing your eyes and sinking back down into fuzzy darkness, your face buried in his shirt. 

You closed your tired eyes, ready to do just that when your brain suddenly began operating again and your eyes flew open, one hand slapping the mattress in panic.

Minji. If you were in Seokjin’s bed, that meant you were in the Kims’ house, which meant Minji was on the other side of the wall - could catch you, had possibly already caught you. 

Heart pounding practically in your throat, you slipped slowly out from under Seokjin’s arm. He had stirred, rolling a little, tucking that arm closer to his chest now that it had nothing to hold. He didn’t wake. You breathed a sigh of relief and started hunting around for your phone. You found it on the ground - it must have fallen off the bed in the middle of the night. 

When you checked it, your question was answered -

[1:52 AM] Minji: did you go home??? [2:07 AM] Minji: you could have said goodbye!!! 😠

You press your phone to your chest out of sheer relief. She hadn’t found you, hadn’t peeked into his room on her way through the house last night, hadn’t spotted you two spooning of all things. 

“Christ,” you’d muttered, frustrated with yourself for the close call, for falling asleep, for being so stupid over Seokjin even now when you were grown and had separate lives. 

You had slinked out of his room on tiptoe, had scooted through the house as quickly and silently as you could, scarcely breathing until you were safely behind the walls of your own house across the street. 

You and Jin never talked about it. A precedent, really.

–

The path of your orbit swung you out again - back to college, away from home, back into your world of classes and dorm life. The pieces of your adult life started to click into place as your senior year spun by - grad programs, internships, hints at a life in a different universe than the one you’ve known. 

You and Minji graduated, returned for the summer. 

There was a night you’d laid across from Minji on the swinging bench in their backyard, her feet in your lap. You two swang gently, eyes on the constellations above you, listening to music play from Minji’s bluetooth speaker. 

“Next year’s gonna be weird,” you said, because it was all you could think about, then. You’d gone to college together, but you wouldn’t be together for grad school. 

“We’ll be fine,�� Minji had murmured, eyes closing. 

You’d nudged her with your foot. “Don’t go to sleep. I’m trying to talk to you. I’m nervous.”

She had opened one eye, nudged you right back. “We’ll be fine,” she repeated, more firmly. “It’s not like we’re going to live on campuses in different states. I’ll be right here. You won’t be far, either.”

You lapsed into silence again. The swing tilted you back and forth, lulling you half to sleep.

“I broke up with that guy,” you muttered, half hoping she wouldn’t hear you. Instead, she sat straight up, almost overbalancing the swing and dumping you both on the ground. 

“You what?” she asked. “Why?”

“I just wasn’t feeling it,” you explained. You were twenty-one that summer, starting to look at apartments you’d be able to afford while working part-time around grad classes. “Honestly, I was just bored.”

“You always say that,” she accused flatly. “I’ve never understood this about you. Everybody bores you. No one… sticks.” Her voice softens and she adds, “I worry about you.” 

You laughed, once, and struggled to sit up. “I’m fine, Minji. None of them were… right. Someone will be.”

“But how will you know?” she pressed. “If you don’t give anyone a chance, how will you know when it’s right?”

Your chest clenched. Because I know what it feels like when it is, you thought, but you couldn’t say that. 

“I just will,” you’d muttered, not an answer. You’d gotten up from the swing, heading for the house. “I need some water.”

As soon as you open the kitchen door, Jin jumped a mile. He’d been standing at the kitchen sink… next to the open window.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Were you listening?” you demanded. 

Jin had flushed pink before you even spoke, telling on himself. “No,” he said hotly. “I was just here, and the window happened to be open, and -”

“And you eavesdropped,” you finished. 

He faced you, lips pursed thoughtfully. “How come no one sticks?” he asked. 

You honestly thought you heard him wrong. “What?” you’d uttered, sure he’d repeat himself and say something else entirely. 

“Why,” he said again, more slowly, “haven’t any of the guys you’ve dated lasted?”

There was a roaring in your ears as you stared back at him.

“What am I supposed to say to that?” you countered, your voice suddenly a whisper. “Jin, what do I say to that?”

He stepped closer, looking down at you, suddenly dangerously close to being in your space. He murmured your name, reached for your hand. His thumb stroked the back of your hand once, his eyes on yours imploringly.

What were you supposed to say - “because none of them were you”? 

The kitchen door opened with a slam and you leapt apart, Seokjin dropping your hand and wheeling around to face the kitchen sink again. With shaking hands you reached for a cabinet that held cups and glasses, rummaging like you were trying to find a good one.

“Get me one of those, please,” Minji asked, poking you in the side as she passed you, before plopping into a kitchen chair.

“Sure,” you’d said, praying that your voice wouldn’t give you away. Seokjin slipped away, down the hall, into the shadows.

–

“What do you think of the wine?”

You were in spanx, a black velvet dress Minji had bullied you into buying, heels that made your ankles swell, and a lipstick called Pretty Petunia. 

The wine was too sweet for your liking.

But for the sake of your date, who’d made you reservations at a fancy Italian place, you’d smiled and demurred, “Not bad. What do you think?”

You barely heard his answer. It was your third date, and you’d been more bored at each one. He hadn’t made you laugh even once.

As the candle flame between you flickered and danced, you downed two more glasses of the too-sweet wine and did serious damage to the bread basket. When your date asked you if you wanted to go back to his place for a nightcap, you lied and said you had an assignment due by midnight for grad school and needed to get home. 

When he dropped you back at your parents’, you showered and got into sweatpants. You climbed on your bed and pushed your curtain aside just a few inches, leaning your arms on the windowsill and laying your head on them. Your phone buzzed by your leg - the date. 

You didn’t answer.

You kept your eyes on the window, on the Kims’ house. 

Seokjin had moved out earlier that day - really moved out, taking everything with him to an apartment a plane ride away. 

You hadn’t told him goodbye, hadn’t snuck out to the moving van for one last moment. He hadn’t texted you, hadn’t looked up towards your window.

He’d just left, and you’d sat here and watched him go.

You rotated in place, wobbling as Seokjin slipped further from your life. You adjusted to the procession. Life hurtled on.

–

The first time you brought a boyfriend home, you were twenty-four. Three years had passed since Seokjin moved away, two since you moved out of your parents and into your “swanky” apartment, one since Minji had moved to her own place not too far from you. 

You didn’t have any expectations for your parents’ Christmas Eve party - the three Kim kids were around some Christmases, but not all. You hadn’t seen all three of them on the same day since before Seokjin had moved out. You knew Minji was coming - you’d texted. The boys? Who knew. 

You were excited to see Minji for the first time in a while. You were nervous to bring your boyfriend around your extended family. You were trying desperately to keep Seokjin from even crossing your mind. You weren’t excited to see him. You weren’t nervous to see him. You tried to keep the Seokjin part of your brain perfectly blank as you led your boyfriend, Daniel, up the front walk of your parents’ house, careful to point out the ever-present icy patch near the front door. 

Your parents greeted Daniel warmly. You’d been dating about two months, and he’d met them not that long ago. He was a nice guy, at the end of the day. 

“Come on,” you murmured to him, after you’d hung up your coats and taken off your shoes. “I have to introduce you to my aunts. I’m sorry in advance?”

He’d look at you wide-eyed, nervous. “Why are you sorry?”

“They’re just… loud,” you’d said, already steeling yourself for the squeals and hullabaloo. 

Daniel held up surprisingly well, smiling genuinely and repeating everyone’s name back to them to make sure he remembered it. He was a nice guy.

Christmas Eve dinner went smoothly. You sat near Minji, the two of you catching up in quiet voices as the loud conversation flowed around you. Daniel, bless him, kept up with the larger conversation, taking a more active role with your family than you were. 

After the meal, people floated around the house in groups. Someone put on a Christmas movie in the living room, you helped your mom put desserts out in the dining room. 

You were standing in the living room, leaning against Daniel a little, chatting with Minji and watching the Christmas movie over her shoulder when the front door opened, shooting a blast of winter air through the room. That’s what made you look up - the chill.

Seokjin came through the door with his eyes down, working his feet out of his boots before the door was even shut behind him.

“Jinnie!” Minji cried. 

A few things happened in quick succession. Your chest clenched, your stomach dropped. 

Seokjin’s gaze followed his sister’s voice, then found you. You watched it on his face as he processed - seeing you, recognition and affection flickering to life, then confusion as he took in the stranger behind you, and then his face went absolutely unreadable.

Daniel wrapped his arm around you, hard, pulling you against him wordlessly. He’d never been so assertive the whole time you’d known him.

Later, he’d asked you, “Is there history with you and Minji’s brother? It seemed, when he showed up…”

Weeks later, when he ended things, bitterness caused him to spit, “Call Minji’s brother and cry about it.”

So much for a “nice guy”.

You’d wished you could call Minji’s brother to cry about it. He would have made you smile again. 

–

Jin’s shoulders were under your fingers, his ragged breath in your ear, his lips on your jaw. Nothing existed but him. Everything you’d spent almost your entire life hoping for was right here, within grasp - he’d called you beautiful, he’d pressed his lips to yours like he’d die if he didn’t, he kept you safe in the space between your arms if only for a few moments. 

Then, he’d stepped away carefully, holding you up a bit until you were steady on your feet again. You adjusted your skirt as he zipped his jeans and stepped away towards the trash bins - to deal with the condom, you realized. Then he was back, close enough that you could see him in the dark again.

You didn’t know what to say to him. You didn’t know how to ask if this was what you hoped it was - if he wanted you, really wanted you, wanted to be with you. You didn’t want to look stupid - stupider - if this was just sex, nothing else. 

“You probably shouldn’t come in right after me,” Seokjin said. Was there something glum in his voice, or were you paranoid? “Minji will sniff that out so fast.”

“Yeah,” you said. Your voice sounded warped to your own ears. “Got it.”

Got it. This didn’t mean a thing. 

You stayed there, pressed close to the house, hiding in the shadows long enough for your pulse to calm, long enough to start to shiver. You hadn’t gone back inside at all - instead, you’d crossed the street and entered your parents’ house, falling asleep in your childhood bed. 

It was fitting. You’d cried yourself to sleep as a child and teenager plenty of times in that bed. Might as well do it again.

In the morning, New Year’s Day, you’d texted Minji, “what’s up at your house?”

She’d answered, “dad just took jinnie to catch his plane. why? whats up?”

You’d played it off, said something like “just wondered if you were as hungover as i am”. You laid on your childhood bed and stared at the ceiling, tracing the bumps and cracks you knew by heart. You reminded yourself that you hadn’t asked Jin for anything, hadn’t told him anything. You had no right to be upset with him.

The only move was forward. So, that’s what you would do. You’d move on, and so would he.

Which doesn’t explain why now, two years later, you’re furious again.

You avoid the neighborhood, try to slip back into your old habits and old routine. 

Your mother, of course, calls you out. 

“Haven’t seen you in a bit,” she says to you on the phone, a few days after you’d made Jin hangover soup. She keeps her voice so innocent, but you hear the unsaid - you were here so much and then you stopped. 

“Want to go out for dinner?” you suggest. “I’ll treat you and Dad to somewhere good?”

“I already started cooking for later,” she says. She sounds sorry, but you’re beyond sure it’s all a trap. She proves you right by adding, “You could come here for dinner, though. I made your favorite.”

Of course you did, you tricky devil, you think darkly. 

“Okay,” you say, long-suffering. “I’ll come for dinner.”

“We’ll see you at seven,” your mom says, and hangs up. 

You feel entirely like you’ve been hoodwinked. You’re just not sure how yet. 

When you arrive for dinner, you walk in warily, half expecting an unpleasant surprise of some sort. But you find just your parents, delicious food, and a quiet house. 

You eye your mother suspiciously through the whole meal, but nothing out of the ordinary happens. You help your dad wash the dishes when you’re all done, spend a little time sitting around chatting. Eventually, you eye the clock and tell them you should get home. You give them quick hugs at the door and step out into the night, pulling the door shut behind you.

Across the street, the Kims’ house is all lit up. Minji’s car is parked in the street, not far from your own, which means she’s there too. You wonder how many more days Seokjin will be in town, before he fucks off back to his own city again. He’d said he’d stay for a few weeks, and you’re already nearing the halfway point. 

You were stupid to even talk to him again. You were stupid to go to their house, knowing he was there. You were stupid to let him flirt with you at the bar, to nearly let him kiss you. You were stupid to show up, uninvited, and fucking cook for him like a goddamn girlfriend. You shouldn’t have done any of it. You should have stayed away. 

You’re all worked up, thinking this, as you stalk through your parents’ front yard, pushing the button to unlock your car. You open the driver’s side door, still fuming, furious at yourself. 

The door is jerked out of your hand as someone slams it shut.

Seokjin faces you darkly, one hand still on your car.

“You scared the shit out of me,” you scold him. “Seokjin, what the fuck.”

“We have a conversation to finish,” he says, ignoring this. 

You close your eyes, lean sideways onto your car. You don’t have the energy for this. “I have nothing to say,” you tell him, opening your eyes again to look up at him. “I’m sorry I threw a cheap shot at you. All that… it doesn’t matter now.”

“It doesn’t matter?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

You shake your head. “It was so long ago, and it didn’t mean anything… I shouldn’t have even brought it up again.”

His brows furrow. He murmurs your name, the same way he had in the back hallway at the bar. “I don’t think you mean that,” he says gently, and it makes you even angrier, angry that you have to stand here and feel foolish while he gets to pity you.

“Which part?” you snap. “It was two years ago, we haven’t talked in those two years, and bringing it up has been completely fucking pointless, so where’s the lie?” 

He grimaces, shaking his head a little. “I wondered for months if I’d hurt you… if you were upset. I was really hoping you weren’t. But, clearly…”

“Fuck you,” you tell him, a derisive laugh edging its way into your tone. “You don’t get to show up out of nowhere and feel bad about it two years later. I’m over it - I’ve been over it. I just never got to tell you to your face that you were an asshole, and now I can.”

“I was in a bad place that night,” he says, trying to explain. “I only -”

“I don’t want your explanation,” you snap, cutting him off. “Believe it or not, Seokjin, I’m not, like, dying to hear the list of reasons why you were out of your head enough to make a mistake like me, that night.”

He literally steps away, eyes wide, his hand falling from your car and slapping the side of his leg as it lands. “Mistake?” he echoes, horrified. “Is that what you think?”

This trips you, knocks you completely off the furious track you’d been barreling down. “What?” you say, unconsciously trying to buy yourself time to process, to formulate a response. 

He steps back toward you, closing the space between you. One of his hands comes up and rests on your cheek. For some reason, you let it, staying still and allowing it. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “It didn’t mean nothing. It wasn’t a mistake, and I should never have let you think differently.”

And then he’s kissing you, slow and gentle, nothing like the fiery kiss you’d shared two years ago. His thumb strokes your cheek so gently it almost tickles. You open for him, letting him take you deeper, tilting your head back to give him more room as he shifts to press you against your car. Your mouth moves against his, his tongue teasing at your bottom lip. Then he’s sucking lightly at it as you sigh against his lips. Your hands are clutching his jacket, your hips pushing against his like they’re asking for trouble. 

And then you’re opening both hands and pushing him away, scrambling to get your car door open again. He looks at you, bewildered, your name a question falling from his lips.

“I can’t do this again,” you tell him brokenly, as honest as you can be. “I can’t do it again. I think it’ll kill me if I do.”

You drop heavily into the driver’s seat, tug the door shut, and pull away. You buckle up as you drive away, Seokjin getting smaller and smaller in your side mirror, standing in the middle of the street in the dark, watching you go. 

You drive five more blocks and then pull over, pressing your hands to your face as you gasp for air through shuddering, stomach-clenching sobs.

Seokjin was seventeen the first time you got drunk at his house, really drunk.

He felt responsible, since it had been his own fault - it was his friend Yoongi who’d come over with a handle of vodka. He’d been the one to tell you and Minji you could have a little. So when he watched you use hands and feet to climb the stairs and head up towards his kitchen, he’d followed, to make sure you didn’t fall down and get hurt.

He knew you’d gone outside because you’d left the kitchen door wide open. He’d followed, silently, closing the kitchen door behind himself. You were laying on your back in the yard, hands clutching fistfuls of grass, eyes on the sky above. 

He’d laid next to you, a few feet away, asked you how the yard was. 

“Spinning,” you’d told him, the word so badly slurred he almost couldn’t tell what you’d said.

And then you’d flopped your head towards him, those eyes swimming with something he thought he could understand, and you’d said, “Sometimes I feel like everyone looks right through me. Like maybe I’ll be see-through forever.”

Seokjin had reached across the grass, taking your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. He’d given your hand one squeeze, and you’d closed your eyes, turning your face back up towards the stars. 

“I can see you,” he’d assured you. He didn’t know if you’d remember in the morning or not. But it had felt important to make sure you knew. 

He could see you. 

He had always been able to see you.

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ehehehehe i hope you liked this update!!! a little peek backwards :) thank you for reading and i hope you continue to enjoy!!!!!

i'm taking a week off of posting because I am traveling for a Family Event (send help) so part 3 will post on Friday, June 16th. thank you for understanding!

[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?

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