#i look to the front of the room which is also the boys side and i happen to see this kid just on the ground doing pushups

[bro-atz]

what we do to boys who are on the run

in which: you just so happened to kidnap the wrong man, and you chose the worst possible one to kidnap.

pair: mafia boss!mingi/afab!reader

word count: 6.6k

content: smut, angst (everybody gets mad at bro), mingi's got a gun!, mingi's also on the run oops, some depiction of violence, wounds and bullets and general injuries, domestic!mingi?, big dick!mingi agenda, fingering, oral sex, unprotected sex (PLS REMEMBER TO WRAP UP IRL!), creampie?, completely consensual!

rated: R | nsfw — minors do not interact

author's note: hold onto your hats this is going to be a long note— and the extremely sylus inspired brain rot continues! domestic sylus anyone? also inspired by the movie ittefaq (you gotta really squint to see it tho) ONE MORE THING this is my contribution to the @cultofdionysusnet summer event: see u on the flip side; and lastly, i'm making this a sylus inspired brain rot series (sorry not sorry) ENJOY special thanks to choy @skteezcursed @ja3hwa and @k-hotchoisan

what we do to boys series: san, mingi

You didn't mean for it to happen. You went to the airport to surprise your brother. Well, you were going to "kidnap him" since he didn't know you were going to be there, but what you didn't know was that he missed his flight, so he decided to cancel his trip. And it certainly was not your fault for mistaking the man with the sunglasses and face mask for your brother. However, it was definitely your fault for putting a pillowcase over his head and pulling him to your car so you could bring him back to your apartment.

When you sat the man down in your living room and unveiled him, you were mortified. Sitting on the couch was a man with sharp eyes, a sharp nose, and the most attractive lips you had ever seen in your entire life— also, he had a gigantic gash across his cheek. This guy was most definitely not your brother— so who the hell was he? More importantly, how and why the hell did he let himself get kidnapped by you when he easily could've gotten away from you with all those damn muscles? And most importantly, why the hell was he bleeding?

"What the fuck?! You're not my brother!" were the first words out of your mouth upon seeing the man.

Rubbing his temples, he looked up at you with a piercing glare, sending shivers down your spine. "You treat your brother like this? Damn, I feel for the guy."

Still completely shaken by the fact that you abducted a total stranger and brought him into your home, your fight or flight instincts kicked in, and unfortunately for you, your body chose fight. You grabbed the lamp next to the couch and held it in front of you awkwardly.

"W-Who are you?!"

"Definitely not your brother, that's for sure," the man chuckled dryly.

"Don't act smart with me!" you raised the lamp, threatening to break it over his head. "I-I'll use th— I'm not afraid to u-use this!"

The slight smirk on his face dropped when you weakly threatened him. Moving his jacket aside, he revealed a gun while saying calmly, "Princess, that's not a weapon. This is. Now, put down the lamp before you break a nail, alright?"

Your blood froze the second you saw the gun. Meekly, you obeyed him, praying that he wouldn't pull the gun out of his holster. He silently gestured for you to get on your knees and kneel before him, which you did. Leaning forward, he brought his face closer to yours.

"You're going to answer my questions first," he started, his low voice practically scaring you shitless. "Why'd you want to kidnap your brother?"

"I-It was supposed to be a prank... He didn't know I was coming to the airport..."

"Why didn't you think to check who I was first before deciding to kidnap me?"

"You were wearing the sunglasses and the mask— You looked like my brother from behind, so I just acted— I got confused," you rambled, your brain desperately trying to keep it together while you answered his question.

"I see," he nodded and leaned back. "And what about your brother?"

"Huh?"

"You said you were at the airport to kidnap your brother, right? Is he on his way?"

"I— I don't know," you stuttered.

"Call him. Find out," he nodded.

You pulled your phone out of your back pocket to see that you didn't have to call him— he texted you the entire saga on how he missed his flight and that he would not be visiting since the airplane tickets were too expensive.

"Well?" the man asked after several moments of silence passed.

"He's not coming..." you whispered, suddenly realizing that your chance at survival diminished significantly due to the fact that no one was going to come to your apartment.

"Good."

Good? Why good?!

"What do—"

"No, princess. I'm not done asking questions just yet," he interrupted you. "Where's your first aid kit?"

"I-In the bathroom..."

"Where is the bathroom?"

"Down the hall..."

The man stood up and immediately winced, his hand flying to his stomach to clench it. He took one step away from you, only to turn on his heel. He did the thing you feared he would do: he took his gun out of his holster. You were practically near tears seeing the gun so close to you.

"Take me there. I'm not letting you out of my sight."

Nodding, you led him to the bathroom. He didn't touch you, but he forced you to enter the bathroom first, ensuring that you wouldn't be able to escape.

I kidnapped him, so why am I the one being held hostage?

He put his gun down on the sink and started looking through the cabinets for the first aid kit, but he was looking in all the wrong places, so you cleared your throat and asked, "Can I get it for you?"

He froze. He looked at you, then nodded once. You grabbed the first aid kit from where it was and set it down on the sink next to the gun. You considered using that chance to grab the gun and use it on him, but you didn't have the courage to do that— plus, you knew that you were somehow going to manage to shoot yourself in the process.

The man opened the box and grabbed a couple different things from the box— you couldn't tell what he grabbed because the lid of the box blocked your view— then started taking his jacket and shirt off. You immediately looked away, unsure of what to do at that moment. Sure, you could've looked at him warily since he was holding you hostage, but you also didn't want him biting your head off for looking at him while he did what he had to do.

As you pondered these questions, you heard him hiss in pain, immediately snapping your attention to him. You barely acknowledged how defined the muscles on his torso were before realizing he was cleaning a wound on his waist, instantly making you panic.

"You were stabbed?! You should go to the hospital!"

"I wasn't stabbed, I was grazed by a bullet," he replied while rolling his eyes. "And do you really think a guy like me should be in a hospital? I'll get arrested."

"Maybe for the gun, but if you're not a bad guy—"

"I would like to think that I am—" he interrupted you. "A bad guy."

"W-What do you mean...?"

"Oh, princess... You really should be careful next time you try to abduct someone..."

He set down the stuff from the kit and took a step towards you. Your back was pressing uncomfortably against the sink countertop as he pinned you in place, his face lowering to meet yours. Despite the fresh scar on his face and his general lack of warmth, you had to admit that he was kind of hot.

You felt your face flush with warmth, and you immediately avoided eye contact. The man stifled a snicker as he smirked. "You're cute, princess," he said, his voice laced with amusement.

He finally moved away from you to tend to his wound, letting you breathe. You kept your eyes on the ground, but your eyes would occasionally flit over to him to see what he was doing. He cleaned up the wound and was bandaging it when you glanced at him the seventh time. Surprisingly, he cleaned up after himself and closed the kit before putting it back where you got it out from. You kind of expected him to tell you to do that— but at this point, you didn't know what to expect.

"Come."

He held the gun in front of you again, and your nerves ran cold again. You left the bathroom first, the man following after you. You returned to the living room where he sat down on the couch with a grunt and you stood in front of him.

"So, since you kidnapped me," the man started, nearly making you roll your eyes at him. "I think it's only fair that you deal with the consequences and let me stay here a while."

"Huh?"

"I need a place to lay low. I was going to make other arrangements, but... I wouldn't mind staying in some princess's frilly little apartment."

You gritted your teeth and did your best to keep from yelling at him. After all, he could definitely kill you if you acted up. 

"I suppose that makes sense," you bit out.

"Great then—"

"But! I have some conditions."

You watched the man's gaze harden. You held your breath as he leaned forward, his gun still in hand. You were terrified he was going to hold it up, but he didn't.

"Never interrupt me, princess," he said, his deep voice scaring the shit out of you.

"Sorry," you squeaked.

He leaned back into the couch. He set his gun next to him, and you let go of the breath you had been holding.

"What are these conditions of yours?"

"If you're going to stay here, then you need to answer some questions I have for you," you stipulated.

"Alright," he said with a massive sigh. "You get one question."

"Only one?"

"Is that the question you want to ask?"

"No! No," you shook your head. "Just— Hold on."

The man looked at you as you thought about all the questions you had for him. Truth be told, you didn't want to know anything about his injury or his gun because that was just a nightmare waiting to happen. Finally, you settled on your question.

"Why do you want to stay here?" you asked.

"I'm not going to tell you."

"Wait! Then, I want one more question since you technically didn't answer my last one," you countered.

"Fine."

"Can you at least tell me your name?"

"...Mingi."

The night after you kidnapped Mingi, you looked him up online, and while you did struggle a bit, you managed to find some articles about him and his gang. The more you uncovered about him, the more terrified you became of him. To think he used that gun to actually kill someone meant that he wasn't joking when he held the gun to your head— that thing was definitely loaded with real bullets.

You didn't know how long he was going to stay for, but when one of his underlings delivered a package— the biggest box you had ever seen— to your workplace, you figured he was going to be there for a while. You wanted to tell him off, but knowing that he hid his gun from you but could use it at any time made you keep your damn mouth shut.

Despite this home invader maximizing your anxiety, Mingi was surprisingly helpful and respectful, which only made you more wary of him.

Honestly, he was kind of like a dog if dogs had thumbs. You didn't have to worry if he would be gone when you left for work because he definitely made himself at home on your couch and promised you that he'd be waiting for you to get back— although, the first time he said it, it was more like a threat, like "if you don't come back home and try to tell the cops, I will kill you," type thing— but after that, it really was like walking home to a loyal dog. A loyal dog who would have dinner ready for you the second you got home.

"Hey, princess, you're home," Mingi greeted from the kitchen as soon as you walked through the threshold.

That was another thing. He still called you princess. And again, you wanted to tell him to stop, but you were too damn afraid to say anything to him.

"Yeah," you replied, exhausted. "I am..."

You threw your bag somewhere in the living room then trudged to your bedroom before flopping onto the bed. Your day at work was fine, but living with the mafia boss drained all of the energy from you that every action you made took twice the amount of effort that it should've. The second your face hit the pillow, you passed out.

When you woke up later that night, you woke up to see food for you on the kitchen countertop with a little note from Mingi that simply read "eat". You glanced at him on the couch where he was peacefully sleeping, the blanket he used to cover himself slowly slipping off his body.

That was your first mistake with the mafia boss. You shouldn't have cared, but you couldn't help it. You fixed the blanket for him. When you fixed it, he snuggled into the blanket and let out the softest sigh, your heart skipping a beat. You froze when he adjusted his sleeping position, worried that he would wake up, but he didn't. Carefully, you made your way back to the kitchen, ate the food he left for you, then went back to bed.

After seeing him sleep peacefully that one singular time, you unintentionally lowered your guard around the man.

One day, you got home from work to see Mingi sitting in the kitchen. He was on the phone with someone, but you couldn't tell who because the second you entered the room, he hung up.

"Who were you talking to?" you couldn't help but ask.

"None of your concern," Mingi brushed your question off. "How was work today?"

"Tiring... I think I'm going to go take a nap—"

"Don't do that. If you take a nap now, then you're going to be awake all night, and then you'll be even more tired at work tomorrow."

"Tomorrow's Saturday, Mingi," you pointed out.

"Oh... Well, don't take a nap. Keep me company."

Your stomach flipped. You had no idea why, but it did. Maybe you were scared— the man wasn't exactly an angel, and the way he said it was a little nerve-wracking, but he didn't sound malicious. Regardless of your confusion, you decided to just listen to him.

You sat at the kitchen island while Mingi went into the kitchen to start making something. As you sat there, however, you felt your eyes getting heavy, so you stood up and joined him near the stove, watching him as he tossed a couple of vegetables into the pan. You stared at the vegetables just tossing and turning, your eyes starting to get even heavier than before. Before long, your eyes were fully closed, and you started leaning towards Mingi. The second your body came in contact with his, though, you jerked awake and stood up perfectly straight.

"Did you just fall asleep standing up?" he asked with slight amusement as he looked at you, but the straight look on his face suggested that he was anything but amused.

"...Yes."

Mingi lips curled upwards into a slight smirk as he looked back to the stove. He smirked, and your heart fluttered. Your freaking heart fluttered for the mafia boss's insane side profile and devilish grin.

You were done for.

You don't know when the dynamic started shifting for the two of you. Heck, you didn't even know when you went from fearing for your life to enjoying every second you spent with the mafia boss.

Since he pretty much refused to leave your apartment, and you didn't have much of a social life outside of work, you were alone in your apartment together a lot. You started hanging out with Mingi more as a way to keep yourself from taking a nap as soon as you got back from work, and to fill the time between getting home and bedtime, you watched movies, played games, and just talked with the guy. He never told you anything about himself, but he could somehow talk about anything and everything for hours and hours on end.

One night, the two of you were watching a pretty innocent movie— so innocent to the point where it was honestly boring the shit out of you. You stifled a yawn as you and Mingi sat on your couch while watching the movie.

"Come on, the movie isn't that boring," he commented when he saw you actually yawn.

"I'm tired, and this is the world's slowest movie. I'm going to yawn," you retorted.

"Maybe we should change it then..."

Mingi grabbed the TV remote and flipped the channel, the next channel immediately showing the most intimate scene you had ever seen in a movie in your entire life. The second the scene appeared, you heard the characters on screen moan loudly. You choked on your spit and looked away while Mingi panicked and turned off the TV.

Silence filled the living room. You buried your face in your hands. Mingi covered his mouth with his hand. Neither of you dared to speak or even look at each other. The silence continued to persist until Mingi cleared his throat.

"I... Um..." he tried to clear the air with a wavering voice. "M-Maybe we shouldn't watch a movie tonight..."

"Y-Yeah..."

There was another bout of awkward silence. You stood up and silently retreated to your room. Before you closed the door, you squeaked out a quick "good night" to the man in the living room, only to bury yourself in your bedsheets. Your heart was racing, and your mind was spinning— the moment was definitely not expected and awkward, but despite how insane the circumstances were, you were somehow turned on.

The dynamic definitely shifted after that point.

You and Mingi were still friendly with each other, but there was always something underlying in every interaction the two of you shared. It was either prolonged eye contact, or electricity every time the two of you briefly made physical contact with each other. Honestly, Mingi just breathing made you feel like your entire body was on fire, and the longer the tension persisted, the more desperate you got for him to do something— anything— with you. 

However, you lacked the courage to tell him that. So, one day, you sat yourself down in front of your vanity mirror in your bedroom and gave yourself a pep talk. Well, you were actually getting ready for an office party you were expected to go to, but you talked yourself into finally making some sort of move on him when you got back from the party.

As you got ready, you planned it out in your head. You were going to slip out of the apartment without Mingi knowing that you left, have only one drink at the party, and then come home immediately after. Luckily, you were able to do just that— you didn't run into Mingi on your way out, you managed to only get through the party on one glass of wine, and you returned home shortly thereafter.

When you got home and opened the door, Mingi didn't expect to see you wearing the tightest dress he had ever seen you wear. His brain short-circuited the longer he stared at the beautiful shape of your body, his eyes drawn to the way the dress hugged your bosom so tightly that it seemed like your chest was ready to pop out of the dress.

"I was wondering where you went," he murmured when you walked back into the apartment.

"There was a company party. I had to go," you sighed as you took your heels off, your sigh slightly turning into a moan of relief.

Mingi gulped nervously when he heard you, his body flushing with heat. It only got worse for him when you shook out your hair, messing it up a little.

As you ran your fingers through your hair, you couldn't help but notice the peculiar look on his face. Sober you would've just dismissed it, but you had enough liquid courage inside you to open your mouth and tease him.

"What is it?" you asked him, a smile playing on your lips.

"Nothing," he immediately responded while sucking in a breath.

You took a step towards him, your body mere centimeters from his. You held his arm, prompting him to look directly into your eyes.

"It doesn't seem like nothing," you whispered.

The man pressed his lips together and exhaled slowly through his nose, his entire body tingling when you rubbed his arm slowly with the faintest touch.

"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you, princess?"

You bit your lower lip and nodded, a smile playing on your lips. Your hand moved from his arm to his shoulder, then to his neck, your fingers tracing a line down the back of his neck. You closed the distance between you, pressing your body against his. Mingi exhaled slowly, heavily, and he let out a little grunt when you pulled his face towards yours, your lips barely brushing against his.

Mingi looked at you with wide eyes. When you kissed him properly, he acted without another thought. He wrapped his arms around you and kissed you back harshly, hungrily. His hands moved from your waist to your ass, his large hands cupping underneath and pulling you upwards so that he wouldn't have to bend as much to kiss you.

You clung to Mingi's shoulders when you felt his tongue push into your mouth, making a moan slip out of your mouth. You met his intensity with your own to the point where you were kissing him as if your life depended on it. Your hands desperately clung to him before you ran one hand down his chest, down his stomach, to his waist. You cupped your hand over his clothed hard-on, and that's when everything suddenly changed.

The second he felt your hand on his cock, Mingi pushed you away. He was breathing heavily as he increased the space between the two of you, his chest heaving as he avoided eye contact with you.

"No..." he muttered between breaths. "We shouldn't..."

"What? Why not?"

Mingi bit his lower lip in frustration and ran his fingers through his hair. He racked his brain for the proper justification, but he just couldn't come up with anything.

"I... I can't explain."

You huffed in frustration. "You can't keep using that as an excuse, Mingi—"

"Please don't be mad," he interrupted you. "It's just... Can you just trust me when I say we shouldn't?"

"You, the guy with a gun? You want me to trust you?"

"Please."

You took a step away from Mingi. You pushed your hair out of your face and avoided eye contact with him. You were filled with frustration and anger at that point, but you knew that arguing with him was pointless.

"Fine," you finally bit out. "Whatever."

With that, you stormed off to your room and slammed the door behind you.

You and Mingi were walking on eggshells around each other the days following. The two of you couldn't be in the same room after that night. You weren't mad at Mingi anymore, but you didn't want to be anywhere near him because you were still so frustrated with him. That, and every time you were in a room with each other, the sexual tension shot through the roof.

Mingi was on the phone one night when you entered the living room wearing nothing but a robe. You just finished your shower, but you had yet to put clothes on because you needed to find your headband before you could start your night routine.

"Alright, sounds good," Mingi spoke quietly, his eyes tracking your every movement as you searched the living room.

He hung up and continued to watch you warily, his eyes locking on you every single time you bent over to search.

"What are you looking for?" he asked.

"My headband," you responded.

You started searching between the sofa cushions for the headband— the same sofa that Mingi was sitting on. Mingi refused to move as you continued to search, irritating you further. He was sitting right on one of the cracks. You stood in front of him and frowned at him when you realized that there was no way in hell he was going to move.

"Mingi, move," you tried ordering him even though you knew it was pointless.

Mingi's gaze hardened. You tried to move him yourself, but the second your limbs got close to him, he grabbed you and pinned you down to the couch.

"What the hell—"

"You're doing this intentionally, princess, and you know it," Mingi interrupted, his low voice sending shivers down your spine.

"I don't know what you're talking about—"

"Don't. Don't fucking try me," he interrupted again, his face lowering towards yours.

You stopped breathing when you felt more of Mingi's body weight on you the closer he pressed himself to you. His knee pushed right between your legs, and his nose brushed against your jawline before he buried his face in the nook of your neck while inhaling deeply. Your entire body trembled when you felt his sensual breath on your neck.

"Mingi," you uttered when he let go of your arms so he could wrap his around you. "You better not be teasing me..."

"You think I would be teasing you right now?" he exhaled shakily.

"After what happened last time? Yes, I do."

Mingi stopped. He moved up and locked eyes with you, and you saw the deep, dark lust swirling in his eyes. Your heart thudded wildly against your chest when you saw the way he was looking at you. He wanted you the same way you wanted him, and there was no way he was going to push you away the same way he did last time.

Rather than continue in the living room, Mingi lifted you up and carried you to your bedroom. He laid you down in your bed and untied your robe, revealing your bare body. He once again buried his face in your neck, but this time he cupped your breasts, his large hand massaging your breasts as he left soft kisses all over your neck. You moaned slightly as held onto his shoulders tightly, your body beginning to writhe beneath him.

"Mingi," you whimpered in a hushed tone.

"Yes, princess?" Mingi murmured into your skin.

You didn't know what to say— part of you wanted to beg him for more, but he was barely doing anything, so you wanted to beg him to just fuck you already, but you knew that he wasn't going to just do as you asked so quickly. You settled for cupping his face and bringing him to meet your gaze briefly before locking lips gently with him.

He kissed you gently at first, meeting the same energy, but when you brought your knee up between his legs, his breathing hitched, and he kissed you a lot more forcefully. You moved your hands to the back of his neck and held on tightly as you found yourself getting swept away in Mingi's barrage of kisses.

As his lips ravished yours, Mingi's hand moved from your breast down between your legs. His fingernails scratched along your folds before he teased your cunt by barely sinking a singular finger into your cunt. You rolled your hips upwards the second you felt his fingers prod into you, making him withdraw his fingers— he was teasing you again. You whined and rolled your waist towards him impatiently.

"You're so impatient, princess," Mingi couldn't help but note with a slight snicker.

"How can I not be when this is all I've wanted for so long?" you huffed out.

Mingi's ears turned a light shade of pink briefly when he heard your words. Before you could say or do anything to poke fun at his random shyness, he thrust two of his fingers into your cunt. You gasped and held onto him even tighter when he moved his fingers in and out of you quickly, without remorse. His fingers were quite literally ruining you with the way he was curling them and ramming them deep inside you.

"F-Fuck, Mingi," you cried as you dug your nails into his skin. "S-Slow down!"

As if he was going to listen to you. Mingi added a third finger and continued with his rapid pace. You felt tension build inside you the rougher he got, and right when you felt like the tension was going to snap, he withdrew his fingers. Without missing a beat, Mingi lowered himself so that his face was between your legs. He kissed and sucked on your clit intensely before shoving his three fingers inside you again, overstimulating you completely. You cried loudly as you came, your cunt fluttering as you squirted.

Despite you cumming, the man kept going. He flicked his tongue rapidly against your clit and continued to fuck you with his fingers. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you pushed your head back into your bed and let yourself go completely. You came again, the force making not only your legs but your entire body tremble.

You were only seeing stars in your vision when Mingi finally stopped. You did your best to blink them away as you felt him move away from you. You were barely able to see clearly when he knelt before you and started stripping himself down. He took off his shirt to reveal his defined chest and the abs that you saw the very first time you met him. The wound that was on his waist had actually healed quite nicely, barely leaving a scar on his body. You couldn't help but reach for his waist and trail your finger along the area that he injured.

"W-What is it?" he asked, his voice trembling a little.

"The wound..." you muttered.

Your eyes slowly moved from gazing at the faint injury to his face. His eyes were still intense, but there was a small smile on his face— a smile that quickly turned into a smirk. His hands reached for your waist, and before long, you were sitting up. He slid the open robe off your shoulders, leaving kisses along your newly exposed skin as he did so. He trailed the kisses from your shoulder down your arm until the robe was completely off you, and he took your fingers into his mouth as he threw the robe off the bed. Your limbs tingled when you felt him suck on your fingers, the pressure making you feel pleasure that you'd never felt before— which was crazy considering that all he was doing was merely sucking your fingers.

When Mingi took your fingers out of his mouth, he sat back on his heels and undid his pants. Your eyes widened when you saw him pull out the most massive cock you had ever seen. His cock was rock hard, throbbing and twitching with every breath he took. He quickly removed his pants entirely and tossed them aside before reaching for your hand and guiding it to his cock. His cock seemed even more massive in your hand, and you were so dumbstruck by it that the man had no choice but to guide your hand up and down his length.

"Don't be scared, princess," you heard him chuckle in a low tone. "I promise I won't hurt you."

As his hand continued to guide yours, his other hand reached for your neck and brought your face closer to his. He pressed his fingers into the sides of your neck gently and kissed you sloppily but passionately, his tongue infiltrating your mouth. You were on cloud nine with the way he was squeezing your neck just right and kissing you over and over again. Your brain was melting the longer he kissed you, and when he stopped, you nearly whimpered. You looked at him desperately, and when you saw the smirk reappear on his face, you knew that he was definitely not going to leave you disappointed.

Mingi laid down on the bed so that his back was pressed against the headboard. He moved you so that you were straddling him, your hands holding onto his shoulders. You felt him rubbing his cock along your ass, the sheer size of his cock making you more nervous with every passing second.

"Are, uh... Are you sure this is the best way to start?" you whispered, your nerves starting to make your body tense.

"Trust me, princess. I know what I'm doing," Mingi replied in a hushed tone, his lips near your ear as he leaned towards you.

The sound of his low voice in your ear made you shiver. Holding your waist, Mingi moved you up before taking his cock and lining it up with your entrance. As soon as you felt the tip of his cock press through your cunt, you exhaled through your teeth, only for that exhale to get cut off by a loud cry when Mingi pushed down on your waist.

"Mingi— Fuck! Y-You're too big!" you sobbed when you felt his cock fill you up to the point where you felt like he already hit your cervix.

"Just breathe, princess," he said calmly as he brushed your hair out of your face. "Relax for me, okay?"

You exhaled slowly, and your body relaxed slightly. You remained seated on Mingi's cock as your grip on his shoulders loosened, his cock throbbing inside you. Leaning towards you, Mingi peppered kisses along your neck and chest, his hands rubbing your waist, hips, and thighs.

"Good, princess... Now, start moving when you're ready, okay?"

You pressed your lips together and nodded. Taking a slow breath, you slowly and barely started moving your waist up and down, the length and girth of his cock a little too much for you to handle on your own. You couldn't help but let out a little cry every time you moved, his cock somehow seeming to get bigger with every movement you made.

Mingi's hands moved to cup your ass, and he assisted you. He moved you on his cock, making you cry louder when you felt the impact of your ass on his thighs and his cock ramming deep inside you whenever he pushed you down with force. The more he had to move you, though, the more frustrated the man got. After making you ride his cock for another solid ten seconds or so, he suddenly flipped you so that your back was pressed against the mattress.

Without a moment to lose, Mingi lowered his body so that your breasts were barely grazing his chest as he rolled his waist into yours. You wrapped your arms and legs around him, your nails digging into the skin on his back as his thrusts got stronger. Your entire body lurched with every slam of his pelvis against yours, and you choked on sobs and whimpers whenever you felt his cock reach deep inside you.

As painful as it was, you didn't want him to stop for even a second because it also felt that fucking good. The way his cock would graze your cervix which each thrust made you more and more excited, and it made the knot in your stomach get tighter and tighter.

"Fuck, princess," Mingi hissed through grit teeth. "You're so fucking tight. You feel so— Fuck!— So fucking good... Your cunt was just made for me, wasn't it, princess?"

Tears blurred your eyes, and one slipped out when you shut your eyes tightly and cried loudly in agreement. You couldn't even bother trying to come up with coherent words as Mingi literally fucked all of the thoughts out of your brain with his intense thrusts. You didn't think they would remain as intense when he started moving faster, but you were sorely mistaken— Mingi was strong and powerful no matter what his pace was.

Mingi bit his lower lip as he moved up. He grasped and pulled on your breasts as his waist moved rapidly, the sounds of your skin making contact over and over again filling up the room along with the squeaks of your worn bedsprings and the two of you moaning and groaning. The room got hotter, and you felt Mingi's sweat start to dot your skin when he dropped his head to watch the way your cunt swallowed his fat dick.

Honestly, just the sight of your sore red pussy was enough to make the man cum, but he held back as long as he possibly could. It was when he suddenly rammed his cock as far deep inside you as he could did he hit your cervix and make you cream around his cock, subsequently making him cum because your cunt got so tight that he thought you were going to snap it off. He grabbed your waist and rammed his cock deep inside you one final time before groaning loudly and filling you up with his cum.

The two of you were panting heavily by the time your highs wore off. Mingi's cock was still throbbing inside you by the time you caught your breath and blinked the blurriness out of your eyes, only for that blurriness to return when you felt him start to pull out, the friction of his cock inside your cunt making you feel good all over again.

"Fuck, princess," Mingi winced then chuckled when he felt your cunt tighten up. "Do that again, and I'll be forced to fuck you all night."

You locked eyes with him when he said that, and you pulled him closer to you before he could pull out completely. You kissed him sensually and left a tiny bite on his lower lip, slightly startling the man before you whispered, "Fuck me all night, then. I want you to ruin me, Mingi."

Mingi kissed you again as he pushed his cock all the way inside you once more. He smirked against your lips in between kisses.

"Your wish is my command, princess."

The next day was extremely weird. When you woke up, Mingi wasn't in bed with you— sure, he didn't have to sleep in the same bed as you after the two of you slept together for the first time, but considering that the two of you stayed in your tiny apartment together, it was weird that he wasn't there next to you. That, however, was not the weirdest part of that morning.

You barely made it out of bed and stumbled into the living room to see that Mingi wasn't on the couch either. Actually, there was no trace of him living in your living room at all or in your entire apartment for that matter. Your jaw dropped as you realized that Mingi was not only not in the apartment, but he and the very little belongings he had completely vanished.

You searched your entire freaking apartment for any sign of him or at least a clue as to where he had gone, but there was nothing in sight. Mingi had disappeared as if he was never there in the first place, leaving you confused, angry, and sad.

Sure, he was a mafia boss, and he owed you no explanation, but how could he just leave you like that? Especially after the way the two of you spent the night prior, why did he just leave you like that?

In the days following, you tried to see if you could figure out where he had disappeared to, but you couldn't. There was no way you were going to be able to track down that man. Just as randomly as he entered your life, he left it as well, and you had to somehow make your peace with that.

Yet, you couldn't help but miss him. You couldn't help but miss the man that held the gun to your head and threatened to kill you, the man that spent so much fucking time with you over the past several weeks, the man you accidentally fell in love with. Fuck. How the hell were you going to make peace with that?

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[latteunwoo]

meet-cute!vernon

to be fair, the two of you did share a lot in common

one of those things being that the two of you shared the same braincell (this was endorsed by wonwoo who watched yours and vernon's first meeting unfold)

you finally had a free day from both school and work and decided to take a little walk around the city and check out the music store across the street from the coffee shop you always get your morning coffee from

the store wasn't very big nor did it seem very popular as it was one of those hole in the wall places that you could only notice if you looked hard enough

that being said, there was probably like four other people besides yourself in the store

"welcome!" the store owner said as she welcomed you as you entered the store

you simply gave her a soft smile as you made your way through the crates filled of vinyl records towards the back of the store

as you reached out to grab a boys like girls vinyl that you had caught in the corner of your eye, another hand reached for it from the otherside as well making you jump not realizing someone else had been in the vinyl section as well

of course the boy jumped as well when you had jumped, causing the vinyl that was in both of your hands and your phone to fall onto the ground

"i'm so sorry, i didnt mean to scare you" he said as he reached down to help you pick the vinyl and your phone from the ground but instead ended up headbutting you as you both stood up again at the same time 😭

wonwoo couldnt help but laugh from the other side of the room

"and so it begins" wonwoo said to himself as he watched the interaction between the two of you

"oh my god, I am so sorry. are you okay?" vernon asked as you rubbed your forehead after the impact.

"i'm fine," you said as you looked up at him to see he had a red mark on his forehead, which made you start laughing.

vernon raised an eyebrow at you at first before you pointed to his forehead

"are you okay?" you asked as he rubbed his forehead a little then nodded

"yeah, I'm fine. does it look bad?"

you let out a small laugh, "kind of."

vernon unknowingly let out a small chuckle as he couldn't help but notice how cute your laugh was

once he had caught himself he quickly cleared his throat before looking back at the vinyl in your hand

you noticed his gaze and looked back at him

"um... are you going to get that?' he asked as you just nodded, "oh"

there was a small awkward silence betwen the two of you as you thought about what to say because it looked like he really wanted the vinyl too and there was only one left, however you've also been looking for this for a while

eventually a thought came to you, "it looks like you also want this vinyl and i don't think they'll have more stock of it until a few months from now so if you want i'd be willing to let you borrow it sometime. if that's okay with you?"

there was another silence between you two as he looked at you then the vinyl and back to you

"that's fine with him," wonwoo said from behind vernon as vernon quickly turned to his hyung with a look of 'what are you doing?!'

wonwoo just smiled at vernon and gave him a look of 'i'm trying to help you' before he went back to looking at the other vinyls

"um... so...." you said as even though wonwoo said it already you still wanted confirmation from vernon

"y-yeah sure that's fine with me." he said quickly as you nodded and took out your phone and gave it to him to put his number in

"i'll send you a text so you can save my number too and you can just message me whenever you want to borrow it um.... vernon," you said as you looked at the contact name he put on your phone and smiled up at him.

"yeah, for sure" vernon said, still trying to process just exactly what was currently happening.

"alright, well, i'll see you around," you said as you gave him a soft smile before walking back to the front of the store to purchase the vinyl.

as you walked away, vernon stood there still trying to process what had just happened.

"hyung, what just happened?" he asked as wonwoo laughed and patted vernon's shoulder

"you might have just gotten yourself a possible date"

vernon quickly turned around as wonwoo noticed his ears started to turn red, "what do you mean?!"

"what do i mean?", wonwoo asked as he let out a smal laugh, "i saw how you looked at her. it seems like you're interested in her so you're welcome."

"i didn't- that's not- ah, whatever," vernon said as he quickly walked away and wonwoo just laughed

that night, you had texted vernon to make sure that he also got your number and since that day you two began texing each other more often and finding out that you actually had a lot in common

seventeen m.list || main m.list

[caffeiiine]

did i ever mention the 3 times ive happened to see random kids drop and do 2-5 pushups and get up like nothing bc it happened 3 times and that. is strange.

[hon3y-y]

Roomie!sukuna doesn't even get horny for anyone other than you anymore. You have the wettest, nastiest pussy he's ever seen- and he deserves the best so nobody but you will do. You're fucking so many other fine men now that you dont even give him a second glance when he walks out the shower in just a towel to tease you. And oh, his temper when one of your hookups pick you up and you don't come home for the weekend. Or even worse, they stay for the weekend. Sukuna has never let a girl sleep over at the apartment but now there are two colognes in the bathroom, two pairs or men's shoes at the door, and he can almost never see you in the living room without some other man hanging off your side

read the other parts here! : part 1 part 2 part 4

he’s literally so embarrassingggg it’s not even funny. he’ll walk around and flex his muscles, smirk on his puffy lips as the water drips down his ripped torso. he stands outside your open door, you’re looking down at your phone deciding on whether to spend the night at choso’s or nanami’s (pick choso, nanami gets up at like 5 am 🙄), “showers empty..” sukuna basically purr’s, resting his arm on the doorway.

and you literally could not give less of a fuck💀

you just nod, mumbling a ‘thanks’ as you focus on putting both their names in a generator and letting that choose your fate for the night. let’s just say sukuna was extremely angry when a motorcycle pulls up and you just giggle and hop onto it, kissing the stupid leather clad boy while throwing on the custom bikers helmet choso had made for you. and to top it off, sukuna had to physically restrain himself from blowing up your phone on where the fuck you are??

messages;

ryo<3: didn’t see you this morning

you: i’m staying with choso for the weekend! sorry, should’ve told you last night:/

you: i also won’t be home after wednesday satoru is taking me to this festival! i’ll send pics😋

ryo<3: have fun 👍

omfg he’s losing it. he literally will spend the whole time in the gym, refusing to be in the empty apartment for longer than eight hours for sleep. he feels like there’s a cement brick in his chest when you’re whisked away by these men. but nothing is worse than when he stays over.

he being satoru.

it was becoming a huge issue. his longest “sleepover” was a week. a week where you weren’t even home for half of it. but sukuna was. he was there for all of it.

there was now a third toothbrush taking up countertop space in the bathroom, he would find satoru’s clothes in the wash (which would always somehow be in there whenever ryo specifically had to use it??), and gojo absolutely loved to make out with you everywhere but inside of your room and sukuna started to hated it. publicly claiming you in front of the guy who literally made it possible🙄 unbelievable.

let’s just say you take a break from bringing satoru over, doing your best to settle the tension at home. but sukuna couldn’t let it go, not when he stares at the stupid fucking blue electric toothbrush and knows that it’s only temporary.

at this point he didn’t even give a fuck about the other guys, you can keep them as long as he’s added onto your roster.

it’s been a while since the two of you had a movie night. something that used to, at the very least, happen once a month has been delayed due to your extra activities. the two of you relaxed into the couch, the movie was a random one you found choosing whatever looked the best by cover and for the first time in a while, sukuna felt like he had you.

“did you buy the candy?”

“shit, yeah. i think i left it in my room?”

“go get it while i make the popcorn!” you smiled up at him, your eyes sparkling excitedly. you looked so cute and soft, and ryo got a glimpse of your cute pink panties when you bent over to grab something so he was feeling just as good. he could already picture the little damp spot he’d create after teasing you and then force you to beg and make it up to him.

he thought about it the whole walk to his room, picking up the bag and then back to the living room, fantasizing about what he plans to do. and just as he’s about to turn the corner, a head of white fluffy hair is laying on your lap, legs spread to take up the full length of the couch. and the only seat available? the one farthest from you.

“i hope you don’t mind, satoru said he missed us!”

us… sukuna looked down at gojo, looking at the content quirk in his lip while he snuggled into you more, moving one of your hands into his hair to play with it. ryo’s eye twitched before he put the bag down and went back into his room, the door slamming behind him. the noise makes you force satoru up, a pit forming in your stomach. you didn’t want sukuna to feel uncomfortable in his own house—

“damn, what’s he so mad abo- he got macha kitkats!? mmm~”

*bonus*

sukuna is literally in his room about to dry heave because??? what alternative version of himself gave him such bad karma?!? in his room like this;

but quietly, because he DEFINITELY doesn’t want you to see him like this. such a fein🤦‍♀️

a/n: i didn’t put smut because i didn’t want to get repetitive BUT should we finally let sukuna get a taste?? part 4 where he finally gets her?? lmk🫶

*not edited*

[miharuki]

𝖄𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖁𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝕻𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖃 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 (𝕱𝖊𝖒)

You were inside an otome game, an old classic that you found while searching for games of the same genre.

Imagine your surprise when you realized you were inside the otome game "My Pure Elegant Love," a medieval-style otome game with nobles, kings, and knights. You had just woken up, finding yourself as the daughter of a duke, any duke. Perhaps for a brief moment, you thought you could have reincarnated as Amelie, the protagonist of this game, but you were far from it.

You quickly befriended Amélie; her sweetness and gentleness were at least forced, but you knew that was the vibe of the game. Perhaps being the daughter of a duke, you could meet other characters, like Claude, the noble and best friend of Amélie in the plot and one of the favorite characters of the small group that played this forgotten game, damn it.

There was also Nathan, one of the strongest and most talented knights in the plot. We can't forget about Kalisto, the protagonist's younger brother who had a crush on her, Luka, one of the princes and also a romantic partner in the plot, as well as the wizard Azrael, and the first Duke Eros, all romantic interests of the protagonist.

Being the daughter of a simple duke, you knew you wouldn't have a chance with those of high status like Luka, the first prince. You weren't the protagonist, but you couldn't help but envy her. Perhaps because she was receiving love from handsome boys? Or perhaps because even in this life, in this game, you weren't loved by your family. You thought that being the daughter of a duke would give you some privileges, but oh, how wrong you were. Neglected by your parents, hated by the romantic interests of the protagonist, and simply having a bad reputation.

You thought you were becoming friends with Claude and that you might even win his love, but that was thrown out the window when they all decided to embarrass you at the prince's luxurious party. You didn't know that wearing a dress that Luka himself gave you would make you the target of everyone's ridicule.

"How could you do this, [name]?" How could you? You didn't do anything wrong! There, in front of the stairs with the prince behind her, was the protagonist, wearing the same dress as yours, but prettier. Perhaps because her perfect protagonist's body and beauty were helping her.

All the protagonist's romantic interests, including the ones you liked on the other side of the screen, were looking at you with anger, perhaps even smiling as if it were planned by them, by all of them, including his highness, who at first seemed not to like you, treating you even like a servant. You envy how they were all around that bitch, comforting her, as if you were the villain, which you never were.

Everyone talked, laughed, and even mocked. "I can't believe Miss Amélie has a friend like that!" You heard a lady saying, looking down. Not even your parents cared about you, at this point, you're probably being disowned by the family.

With tears on your face, after trying to explain the misunderstanding to everyone, after being slapped by his highness and the protagonist, you felt like crap. Pulling on the dress, you turned and ran out of the hall, opening the doors brutally. You couldn't stay in that room anymore, not when everyone was now looking at you with hatred.

Unaware, you came across a balcony, hearing footsteps coming. You were scared; the prince might have sent guards after you after you "lied" to everyone while explaining.

With all your strength, you push through the balcony fence, and as you're about to jump, someone forcefully opens the doors, startling you and causing you to slip, now falling to the ground. Your tears are now stronger, groaning in pain as you try to get up.

It was with pain, dirt, and tears that you ended up behind a bush. You couldn't take it anymore; you were shaking from the cold, crying, your makeup smudged, your hair dirty and messy, your "copied" dress dirty and torn. You've never felt so worthless before.

You cried as if you were carrying all the burdens, thinking about how the romantic pairs and the protagonist were not the best; in fact, they were the worst.

Feeling a headache, you sit down, trying to breathe well and calm down as you think, "And now?"

"What's a maiden doing crying in the middle of the woods?" Looking back, you noticed someone coming, a boy. Turning your head forward, you try to wipe away the tears. You don't like anyone seeing you cry; crying is for weak people.

Then you felt something being thrown over you, a thick, large coat. Lifting your head, you now look at the boy in front of you. His melodic and calm voice speaks as he gently crouches in front of you.

"Can you tell me, fair lady?"

You sobbed, trying not to cry, mocking the nickname the boy gave you.

"Fair lady? The way I am right now, I'm barely even a girl, let alone fair or a lady," you say as you use your own dress to clean up the mess of makeup and tears.

"I don't think that," the boy continues to clean as he speaks. "To be honest, I think you're even more beautiful. You just can't see it."

The boy's hands lift your stained and dirty face. You look and notice the looks he's giving, but they're not directed at the protagonist like everyone else's; they're for you.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" His calm and concerned eyes are looking at you, waiting for your response.

You just look aside before sighing. It's better than nothing.

"His Highness, the prince, had given me a dress as a gift... to wear at the ball today, but my friend - no, Miss Amélie was wearing the same one. Some of her friends started mocking me for trying to 'copy' the girl, but when I tried to explain, His Highness said he would never give me a gift in his life, especially knowing that his 'friend' Amélie would be wearing it today," you almost can't finish without starting to cry again, sobbing as you try to explain.

"They all planned to humiliate me in front of everyone, and His Highness still insists that I'm lying!" You say, already crying again, not noticing the arms going around you. You only notice when you feel being embraced by the boy as you cling to him, crying and sobbing.

"My dear, they don't deserve your kindness or your presence. What they did was extremely awful to a lady like you," the boy says as he strokes your hair and back, comforting you, as you've always wished to be.

You were clinging to the boy, feeling betrayed, feeling used. You didn't even notice the boy raising his hand to someone behind you, to someone dressed in black, a gentleman, but not the prince's gentleman, oh no, not that traitor.

You didn't even realize how the castle was beginning to stir.

"Let's go, I'll take you somewhere else. You might end up getting sick staying here," he says as he watches you cling to him. He could feel your warmth, you were starting to get sick from crying so much. Nomura's heart was breaking at the thought of you falling ill.

"Are you okay with this, miss?" The boy asks before you nod in agreement. Nomura gets ready and picks you up bridal-style, using his own coat that was on top of you as a blanket to protect you as he carried you to his own carriage.

Watching as you had already fainted from crying, he held you gently as the carriage headed towards his castle, leaving behind an important part of the game that was happening, unaware that the game's villain was now holding you firmly.

Do I do a part 2?

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

chocolate confession ♡

fem reader, part 2 for the ring pop proposal miniseries since yall were asking for it ! fem reader, soft n worried katsu, white day chocolates, katsu n reader r in highschool (ignore the no dorms blehh :P) in this one, this also reeks of my ocxcanon ship msorry yall lolololol, i dont think there are any warnings, but lemme know if i missed sum else !

the first person who realizes katsuki is trying to confess to you is his mom because he hasn't left the kitchen since he'd banished everyone from coming in as soon as the sun peeked through the curtains.

the older woman had no idea what the sounds of pots and pans clanging, mixed with not-so-quiet cursing meant, at first. but she figured it out quickly, call it mother's intuition, or the fact that she checked her calendar and realized tomorrow was white day.

mitsuki knew her son was going to confess to you when he came back from school with a cutely wrapped box of chocolates. her katsuki was still rowdy—if not rowdier and even less approachable than he was as a chubby cheeked little boy, so she guessed by the blush and barely suppressed smile on his face that—

"ouuu, got yourself some chocolates ? aren't you a heartthrob.." she teased "who'd you get those from ?"

katsuki scoffed at his mothers teasing. he rolled his eyes, but they wouldn't—or rather couldn't stray far away from the wrapped sweet treats. he runs his thumb over the ribbon tied in front.

"..yn gave 'em to me." he huffs proudly.

as she guessed, they came from you. of course.

katsuki is still—if not even more protective over everything that involves you, practically growling at his mom's not so sneaky attempts at trying to sneak a chocolate when he had opened the box "yn made 'em for me, so no touchin'." he snarled, stomping over to his room and ignoring his mom's knowing smirk when he made his way up the stairs.

this memory brings her back to now when she suddenly hears..nothing. absolute silence in contrast to all the ruckus from only a few seconds ago. and then the door creaks open just a bit and mitsuki sees her son's head peek out from the corner. she looks up from her magazine to raise a brow in question and the blond boy glares, jolting his head to the side in a silent plea for her to come over.

she saunters to the door, knowing smirk growing wider the more her son's grumpy face comes into view. she gets a peek of her kitchen through the small crack her son allowed her to see. she had to admit, though rowdy, katsuki was anything but messy. even though the dishes piled up, she knew he'd clean them up soon enough. she looks down at him and he avoids eye contact.

"can i come into my kitchen now ?" she smirks. katsuki scoffs at his feet. he grumbles something unintelligible before side stepping and telling her to 'just come in already.'

the woman is greeted with a batch of freshly made chocolates, which she assumes are one's you like if she knew how enamoured her katsuki was with you.

"ouu, who are these for, hm ?" she teased, but if he knew her son well enough she knew that these—

"sh-shut up !" katsuki snapped, cheeks turning red and eyes drifting around the room "you know who.." he challenges. mitsuki smirks wider, crossing her arms.

as she guessed, they're for you.

"okay.." she humors him, shifting her weight to her other leg " and what do you need me to do here ?"

katsuki inhales shortly to himself. he picks up one of the chocolates, not from your tray because those were for you and no one else, but from another tray she hadn't noticed of sloppier batches.

"try this." is all he says. handing her a little piece of deformed chocolate and she plops it into her mouth. she takes the time to let the sweet treat melt on her tongue before letting out a pleased hum. katsuki straightens up and his eyes shine and brighten the slightest bit.

"mhm, these are good." she acknowledged "but why don't i get one of the pretty ones ?" she teases. her katsuki all but scoffs in her face, simply stating that "these are for yn, not you."

and mitsuki realizes. he must've been working for hours trying to make these chocolates perfect for you, she guessed. her heart warms and her eyes soften at her son's adoration for you.

"but the one you gave me is good too, why can't you just give her one of those ?" at that, katsuki shoots her an incredulous look, like she had just told him something utterly unimaginable.

"i can't go around givin' her shitty chocolates ! 'specially not if i.." he trails off suddenly, grumbling with balled fists. he wipes at his cheek to try and wipe off his embarrassment. mitsuki feels her smile practically reach her ears. she's too good at this.

"if you what ?" she sings, leaning towards her son. he grumbles.

"if i—stop looking at me like that ! s'creepy so knock it off !" the blond snapped, face and ears a bright shade of pink and mitsuki can't help but bark out a loud laugh at her son's flustered state, her laugh drowns out the low growl he makes. she decides to spare him after a good giggle.

"okay, okay. i get it." she reassures. because she does, of course she does. but she sees something is wrong with the way her son seems satisfied for only a second before he's chewing at his lower lip and the way he wipes his hands against his pants. she knows her katsuki is extremely hard to handle. he could be quite the brat, but also extremely stubborn (she thinks she might know where he got that from.) so asking him simply what was wrong was out of the question. so she decides to coax him into it.

"you gonna give them to her tomorrow ?" he nods, hiding his eyes with his bangs.

"they're good. so i'm gonna give 'em to her tomorrow." her son nods at his mumbled pep talk, but the tension between his brows doesn't let up and after a moment, he sighs grumpily.

"what if i, like, fuck it up..?" mitsuki's eyes soften at her son's insecurities showing despite himself.

"how would you do that ? all you gotta do is hand them over." she asks softly. katsuki huffs.

"it's not that simple," he retorts "what if i make it weird ? what if i make things between us weird an' she doesn't wanna be with me anymore..." the sad tone of voice and the angry little puppy dog eyes make mitsuki melt, despite growing up a lot. despite being quippy and rowdy and a major brat, her katsuki will always be her little boy tugging at the bag of sweet ring pops he'd begged her to buy at the grocery store. her little boy who smiled a bright determined smile as the bag crinkled in his hand following his proud stomps to the car back home, ready for tomorrow.

a surprised throaty noise escapes katsuki when his mom places a hand in his hair, running her fingers through it. he makes a displeased noise, again, but doesn't try to stop her. mitsuki does realize her son is trying to confess to you with these chocolates, but she's a woman too and she knows you, she's known you since you were small and she knows how much you care about her son. she knows from the way katsuki kept the chocolates to himself, the barely supressed giddiness in all of his actions and the way he took his time enjoying every bite she knows and realizes that these chocolates were most definitely just for him.

and she guessed maybe you were trying to tell him something too.

she knew her katsuki had absolutely nothing to worry about, because you carried you empty ring pop container around with you in your bag and proudly explained it was 'your husband katsu' that gave it to you with a giggle. because you'd kiss his cheek without worrying about the ooh's and the kissy noises, only her son's cherry red cheeks but proud smile. because you'd giggle and laugh when he still called you his wife well into elementary school, and because you still smile so wide at the mention of his little ring pop proposal. and so, she smiled. startling katsuki by rubbing his hair fast like an almost noogie. he growls at the sudden shift, gripping his mother's arm and pulling away with a scowl, rubbing and trying to fix his hair. "the hell are you doin', hag ?!" her son seethed, and all she can do is smile.

"you got nothin' to worry about, katsuki." she says sincerely, the boy's arms drop and altough his barely there pout remains he tries to act tough, raising a brow at her "how do you know that ?"

"call it mother's intuition." her smile widens at his scoff and rolled eyes, he's better at it now and she laughs. " why do you wanna give these to her ?" she urges. he thinks for a moment, before his cheeks burn red again but his eyes go soft and warm and so much more enamoured with you than he was all those years ago in the car.

"cus..i like her.." he confesses "an' i don't want anybody else to do it before me." he finishes bitterly.

he's always been protective of you. any other boy you were paired up with or sat next to when the class seating order changed was considered public enemy number one for a while. of course, you had him on a leash, always being able to soothe him by saying that he was your number one best friend. and that was more than enough for him to throw smart glares and snarky smirks, grabbing your hand and dragging you off somewhere to show you something cool. something he knew you'd find cool because he prided himself in knowing exactly what you liked more than the other boys. your favorite ice cream, flowers, and chocolate flavor.

and mitsuki smiles. "right, you like her. so you can't let that scare you off, can you ?" mitsuki feels her heart soaring with pride, albeit with a little amusement when her son scoffs in response "course not. i ain't scared of shit." he states, she decides to ignore the irony of his statement for now.

"of course," she nods "and just between us, i think she likes you, too. i dunno how she does but.." katsuki's eyes widen like she'd just told him something ridiculous, completely ignoring her jab at him. she has to hold back a harsh laugh at how oblivious her son could be.

"that's just my guess though !" she shrugs nonchalantly "but there's only one way to find out if i'm right.."

after a beat, katsuki nods to himself with a grunt, grabbing the tray of chocolates and putting it in the fridge, ready for tomorrow, and wordlessly rolling up his sleeves and starting the dishes, as mitsuki guessed, and she smiles. she pets her son's head again briefly, ignoring his dissaproving grumbles, before giving him a pat on the back and wishing him good luck.

the next day, katsuki walks over to her, sat on the couch, immediately after coming back from school, with a proud smirk and gleaming red cheeks. and mitsuki knew she had nothing to worry about as she grins back.

taglist *if your name is pink i unfortunately couldn’t tag you :(( : @73isthebestnumber @gold24fish @m-inluv @katsuisbaby @teddiiursulas-ink @moonbabysstuff @brandydel @queenpiranhadon @chuugarettes @starieq @aishio14 @andysdrafts @hyunorue @touyasprettydoll @itsfiive @annoying-bitxh @h0nestly-though @atinytiredpanromantic @mikalame @itzjustj-1000 @deepressed @evam23 @erenstitanweave @m-0ona @chaoticgay13 @lotusstarr @koreluvsspring @giannitaa @waterstarz @nayeonsdoormat @the-crazy-star-12 @kovu-bunnbunn

tumblr is tweakin so if some of your tags don't work m'so sorry :(((

[chans-room]

Good Boy

Pairing: Mingyu x reader

Genre: smut, established relationship

Length: 1.2k

Rating: Explicit/18+ only

Warnings: explicit smut, slight femdom, needy Mingyu, grinding, piv, unprotected sex, implied oral f receiving, reader is just super turned on by Mingyu looking pathetic and needy. pretty tame tbh.

Authors note: this is entirely the fault of @minisugakoobies and @minttangerines. beta'd by @j-a-nuary and @eureka-its-zico ily both. I wrote this in 2 hours last night in some sort of fugue state so I'm sorry, but also you're welcome.

Edit: shhh you never saw my spelling error

Masterlist

You tried to be nice, you really did, but the way your boyfriend looks at you with his big, glassy, puppy dog eyes makes something in your brain break.

It started with dinner – Mingyu was pouting about some jibe you made at him. You both knew it wasn’t serious, just a bit of harmless teasing. But his furrowed brows and watery gaze made you feral with want. But you pushed it down, not wanting to cut the night too short. You both had been working so hard, and you decided to go out to dinner and a movie to relax and spend time together.

But then, he had decided on a romantic movie. And you had to suffer through his tiny whines of empathy and his shining eyes as you shifted uncomfortably in your seat due to the growing wetness between your legs. 

The whole way home he couldn’t stop rambling about the movie; about the love story and how beautiful, yet sad, it was. You barely made it in the door before you were pulling his mouth to yours and fumbling down the hallway to your room.

It wasn’t long before you had him almost naked below you, whining and frowning as you sucked marks into his chest and neck, nails raking down his golden skin as he gripped the sheets. His knuckles were white, desperately trying not to disobey your order.

He wasn’t allowed to touch you – and you were loving how desperate he was getting as you teased.

“Baby don’t tease me,” he panted, mouth falling open with a gasp as you sunk your teeth into the junction of his neck. He hated not being able to touch you, and you weren’t making it any easier after your striptease that lneft you naked in his lap.

“Me? Teasing you? Come on, Gyu. You know you’ve been teasing me since dinner,” you sighed in response, shifting your weight so your cunt was pressed against his length, still trapped in the confines of his boxers. It felt delightfully mean that with every second you were drenching the front of his boxers, and he could do nothing about it.

“Can I touch you at least?” he whined, giving you an exaggerated frown. You shook your head, tracing the tendon up to his ear with your tongue, earning a shudder.

“Only if you remember I’m in charge,” you whispered in his ear before sitting up, planting your hands on his chest. His hands immediately found your waist, squeezing and kneading into your love handles. “Be a good boy, and I won’t drag this out too long.”

He nodded, eyes glued to you as you started grinding on his cock, a low moan tearing out of him. “I’ll be good, promise,” he panted.

He didn’t try to control your movements, and you knew he probably could if he wanted to. But he loved when you got like this – desperate and willing to take what you wanted from him. And he would never deny you a single thing, least of all your pleasure.

“That’s right, you’re my good boy,” you grinned. His response was exactly what you wanted – the high pitched whine and the way he turned his head to the side, eyes closed and lip tucked between his teeth. “It’s okay, baby. You don’t have to say anything. We both know it's true.”

You were answered with a nod and another whine. Your hand found its way to his neck, causing his eyes to flutter open, fingers digging into your skin slightly more. You didn’t have to squeeze or even apply pressure, but the command was there. “Please?”

The syrupy sweet way he said it made you grind down on him harder, which gave you the gift of his mouth falling open with small, needy pants. “Fuck, gonna need you inside me soon,” you groaned, eyes rolling back as his tip brushed your sensitive clit.

“Want it, want your pussy baby. Need it. Please, please fuck me. Let me make you cum,” he started babbling, subconsciously grinding you harder and faster on his cock as he nodded. “Ride me, please baby.”

His wrecked, pleading expression made you shudder, reaching behind you to pull him out of his boxers. He hissed at the contact, eyes rolling back as you pumped his cock a few times before lining up with your entrance and sinking onto his cock with a sigh.

The choked, stuttering gasp that came from him as you sunk down to seat yourself fully on his cock was music to your ears. You forced your eyes open to stare down at him, wishing you hadn’t as you met his watery gaze. The rushing pang of desire flooded you so violently it almost physically hurt – and by his sharp inhale, sucked through his teeth, told you that your walls contracting around him was the likely culprit.

“F-fuck, babe,” he stammered, hips involuntarily twitching upwards. “S-sorry you just–fuck. I couldn’t stop it.”

You just grinned, bracing yourself again on his chest as you began to swivel your hips, feeling his body go rigid underneath you. “Can you hold it for me?” you asked sweetly, earning a tight nod. “Good boy.”

It didn’t take long for your legs to burn and your orgasm to build, nearly shaking as you fucked yourself on his cock in earnest. His broken moans and pathetic whines were melodic with the gentle slap of your skin meeting his. “Babe, fuck. Can’t hold it much longer,” he moaned brokenly, eyes wide as tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, begging for release.

It was enough to have you coming undone, nearly screaming as it hit you.

It was the permission he needed to surge forward, laying you flat on your back as he took his position between your thighs, rutting into you desperately as he fucked you through your orgasm, pushing you closer to your second of the night.

You knew all rational thought had left him for the moment when his eyes slammed shut, brows knitting together and nose scrunching slightly as he chased his orgasm. He didn’t even notice when his cock slipped out, making him rut against your mound until he came with a sharp gasp and a shudder before he collapsed on top of you.

He buried his nose into your neck, arms wrapping around your frame as he caught his breath. You didn’t even care that your budding second orgasm was fading; you were just happy to be with him. 

“Fuck, babe. That was incredible,” he sighed after a few minutes.

You giggled, combing your fingers through his hair. “Yeah? No notes?”

“Nope. Not one. It’s hot when you get bossy,” he grinned, making you scoff.

“I was not bossy,” you rolled your eyes at him, not fighting the grin on your face.

“Fine, not bossy. Demanding. I liked it,” he said, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “But I do have one request.”

You frowned, cocking your head to the side in confusion. “Sure? What’s up, babe?”

“Well… We were supposed to get ice cream, but… what if I just have you for dessert instead?” he said with a shy grin.

Your arms going slack around him was the only answer he needed, his grin growing cocky as he shimmied down the bed to fit his shoulders between your open thighs. “Anything you want, baby.”

[willowser]

your little angel of a son inherits katsuki's bad temper, and it manifests in his terrible fours.

there's an awful little shriek that echoes throughout the house and katsuki is on his feet and halfway to the living room before his eyes are even open—but the only danger awaiting him there is a pouty little brat.

his son is sitting amidst a swarm of toys that have been strewn about haphazardly, and his arms are crossed and big fat tears are in his eyes and he looks mad as all hell. you do, too, sitting across from him with a deep frown, holding the ripped page of a book from his little shelf.

"no sir," you warn, "we do not treat our things this way."

you incite a meltdown.

katsuki feels his own temper flaring—half from shock and awe at his little mini-me and also from the exhaustion wearing him thin—when your son kicks his legs out in a burst of rage, letting out another little shriek of anger. your cheeks puff up, wearing the same furious expression, and at the hiss of his name, the little brat jumps to his feet and snatches a toy truck nearby and launches it across the room.

"oi!"

your son's attention snaps to katsuki, startled, losing a hint of anger as he pouts at the floor.

"what'd she just tell you?" and when he gets no response, katsuki prods with a, "hah? answer me."

but the little boy only stamps his little feet and grunts out a furious, wordless sound that has katsuki's lip curling. you let out a heavy sigh, shaking your head at him before frowning down at the torn page in your hands, and then katsuki is planting a hand on the back of his son's head and steering him towards the front door.

"time to take a walk."

the boy goes, even though his arms are crossed and his eyes are downcast. he only resists once, as katsuki tries to shove his little feet into his shoes.

"i don't wanna." he mumbles, face scrunched and wet before promptly looking away.

"i didn't ask."

"hmm!"

katsuki has to resist the urge to pinch his own son.

they get out the door eventually, and the little boy stomps along for the most part, no longer needing a guiding hand on the back of his head once they get around the block a time or two. neither of them say anything.

fatherhood has taught katsuki a lot of things, which was expected, but the one thing that's surprised him is—he's learned all the things he doesn't want his son to be.

the first of them being angry. not the way katsuki was, mean and selfish, throughout his childhood; hateful and careless, in his teens; shut off and simmering, even now.

he waits until the tension has melted off his little shoulders, until his little face has dried and evened out. his arms swing at his sides, occasionally coming up to wipe his snot with the back of his hand, and he eyes the few wildflowers they pass with a little hum and a small smile.

katsuki tugs once on his ear, frowning down at the little brat when he peeks up at him. "that how you're supposed to treat your mama?"

he doesn't answer at first, leaning his head all the way back and clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, until katsuki stops walking. "no, sir."

"how you s'posed to treat her?"

"with love."

"how you s'posed to treat your toys?"

"with care."

"uh-huh," katsuki squishes his son's cheeks in his hand, shaking his head lightly from side to side until he starts giggling. "that how you acted today?"

"no, sir."

"that how y'r gonna act again?"

"no, sir."

"okay," katsuki murmurs, nodding once before letting him free. the little boy bounces on his feet and sucks on his lip, grinning when his tummy is pinched. "now pick those for your mama."

and he does, carefully plucking a small handful of flowers from the grass as they make their way back home, and just before he runs up the steps to the house, katsuki's little angel of a son hands him the biggest one.

[slytherinslut0]

enemies w/ tension. | slytherin boy headcanons

author's note: feralism inside. readers be advised. eighteen plus.

- your enemies reaction to you bending over in front of them.

Draco Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy, as your enemy, was an absolute arsehat.

He’d purposely go out of his way to make your life a living hell whenever he bloody could.

The teasing and pranking was relentless; from accidentally spilling a particular shimmering potion on your white uniform blouse, rendering it perfectly see-through and exposing your bra to everyone in potions class, to pulling out your seat when you weren’t looking; he’d done it all.

He was an absolute menace, but you also knew there was something more to it than that, something possessive, something obsessive.

And you thought this for a multitude of reasons, but the main one being that he admitted he was into you while drunk at a common room party. which of course he denied the next day, and every other day since, choosing instead to be as annoying as ever.

but on this particular late evening, assigned as partners for a class project, you found yourselves alone together; the tension high and the banter relentless.

“Draco, please stop acting like a bloody child for five seconds.”

He’d roll his eyes, fighting a smirk. “Pleading for mercy are you? How adorable.”

You’d huff, staring at him with your arms crossed out of frustration as he held your quill above his head, just out of your reach.

“No, I’m pleading for you to stop being so goddamn insufferable. Give me my quill.” You’d hiss, entirely irritated.

Of course he’d just laugh, wetting his lips as he analyzed your frustration, revelling in the fact he’s so clearly gotten you going.

“Here.” He’d sneer, all before tossing it half-way across the room. “Go fetch.”

by this point, your blood was boiling, but you wouldn’t miss the glint in his eyes, the one that told you he was enjoying this a little more than he should be.

With a frustrated sigh, you pivoted sharply, seizing the perfect opportunity. As you closed in on your quill, a deliberate hair flip cascaded over your shoulder. Slow and sensuous, you bent at the hips, hands trailing down your sides, tracing the subtle sway of your body reaching for the quill. Picking it up achingly slow, on the ascent, you locked eyes with Draco over your shoulder, a sly smirk playing on your lips.

Draco’s typically poised demeanor faltered as he watched, an involuntary pause freezing his features. His steely gaze, usually cloaked in arrogance, softened into a momentary bewilderment.

The realization hit him like a revelation, and before you could even process it, he was up and out of his seat, one hand gripping the back of your head as he loomed over you.

“What the fuck was that?” His voice was torn, shredded. “Quite the fucking tease, huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You blinked, grinning. “I simply picked up my quill.”

His grip on the back of your head tightened, his pupils blown wide with lust. All his restraint was gone.

“You’re a fucking filthy little thing “ he leaned in closer, wetting his lips as he glimpsed yours. “Do that again and I’ll fuck you right here, right over this desk.”

Blaise Zabini.

Blaise fucking Zabini. Your enemy? You guessed you could call him that.

Mainly because all the guy ever did was sabotage your bloody love life. Every single damn chance he got.

And not even in a traditional asshole type of way, like by scaring dudes off or threatening their livelihoods--oh, no.

he scared them off by just being himself.

You’d known Blaise since first year, being that the two of you are from the same house and share the same friend group,

but, all the two of you have ever done, since day bloody one, was banter and bicker like a pair of fucking first years.

But as you matured, that friendly banter slowly transitioned into something more, something that neither of you seemed willing to acknowledge.

Something that you knew was about to boil over, at any given moment. and perhaps, that moment was today.

you sighed in frustration, watching as the guy you’d been talking to all night began to make his way through the crowd, finally taking the hint and excusing himself after Blaise had just ever-so-kindly invited himself into your conversation.

“Why do you have to ruin everything?” You took a sip of your drink, glancing at a smirking Zabini through narrowed lids. “Do you not want me to find love? Do you truly hate me that much?”

“I did you a favour, trust me,” he’d quip, flashing those perfect pearly teeth at you. “Dude would have bored you death.”

“The great Zabini, doing me a favour?” Your eyes widened, and you’d stifle an amused scoff. “Sure you’re feeling okay?”

As Blaise was poised to respond, you fumbled with your wand, inadvertently dropping it onto the wooden floor of the common room. Acting on instinct, you bent down to retrieve it, sensing Blaise's eyes lingering on your backside for an unnecessarily long moment as you slowly straightened up.

And when you finally looked over, you watched as he brought a hand up to his mouth, attempting to hide his grin as he shot you a knowing, wide-eyed glance, his body tensed as though he was fighting to restrain himself.

but after only a few seconds, he’d step closer, his hand grazing your arm as he leaned in.

“Excuse me miss, but I think you’ve made me drop something,” he’d pause, watching your eyes as you met his.

“I’m sorry?” You snorted. “what are you-“

he’d pull you closer, bringing his mouth toward your ear. “you made me drop my fucking jaw…”

you’d blink, caught off guard. “Blaise-“

“That ass is fucking perfect,” he murmured, wetting his lips. “cant hide it anymore, princess…i want you bad.”

Lorenzo Berkshire.

“Enzo-earth to bloody Enzo,” you emitted an audible groan, sinking back down into the chair beside him.. “can you please at least fucking attempt to help me?”

Enzo was uninterested in your pleas, truthfully, he was uninterested in anything you had to say. Paying no heed, he sat slouched, head nestled in his arms on the desk, seemingly oblivious to your presence.

you sighed. this was going to be a long damn class.

“Enzo, please? you can sleep after class-“

He grumbled softly under his breath, neglecting to raise his head from the desk. However, he pivoted it towards you, his bleary brown eyes meeting yours.

“can you knock it off?” his voice was a shredded rasp. it was clear he was exhausted. “don’t you ever get tired of hearing your own voice?”

You scoffed, irritation evident on your face. This was the typical Enzo conversational experience--a constant exchange of snark and jabs. It baffled you how a man so fucking attractive could also be so damn daft at times.

“i don’t, actually,” you huffed, trying to keep your composure. “but i certainly get tired of your ignorant attitude.”

that managed to get at least a chuckle out of him, even if it was a half-assed one.

“spicy today, i see.” his lids fluttered back closed as he muttered, “bite me, darling.”

“you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” you teased, your voice taking on an arrogant tone. “masochist.”

Enzo emitted a snort, a hearty chuckle escaping from his chest in response to your suggestive jab. Progress was evident, and you sensed the need to elevate things to the next level if you intended to secure his assistance.

Making sure his eyes remained closed, you slyly nudged your quill, sending it tumbling off the table and onto the floor. A mischievous smirk played on your lips as it hit the ground, and Enzo's eyes snapped open, fixing on you.

Maintaining the intense eye contact, you slowly leaned over in the chair, letting the seductive sway of your movements accompany your reach for the fallen quill.

you could feel Enzo's gaze following your every movement as you retrieved the quill with a lingering touch--all while a subtle, suggestive smile danced on your lips.

the second you straightened out, Enzo sat up straight, clearing his throat, tongue darting out to moisten his lips as he fought to collect himself.

“what’s the matter, Enz?” you quipped, unable to control yourself. “thought you were tired?”

“don’t play with me, angel.” he muttered, leaning closer. “please, Merlin, don’t fucking play with me.”

you’d snicker. “help me with this assignment and i’ll let you touch it.”

“deal.”

Mattheo Riddle.

you and Mattheo were enemies for one reason, and one reason only--his suffocating arrogance.

perhaps you were the only girl in the school who called him out on his bullshit, perhaps you were the only girl in the school who didn’t fall flat at his feet anytime he simply breathed.

and Mattheo, well, he wasn’t used to this type of treatment. and he certainly wasn’t keen on the fact he couldn’t get you in his bed with a mere second long glance.

of course, you were fully conscious of the fact he was hot as fuck, but your self-respect and dignity outweighed your sexual desires, which in turn, created fiery spats every-time the two of you were near each other.

And so, here you were, paired with him for a research assignment; the two of you alone in the library on a Sunday night, while he was totally hungover. And as insufferable as ever.

“Mattheo, give my fucking textbook back.”

He’d groan, rolling his eyes as he tucked the book under his arm, hugging it to his chest while seated sluggishly.

“Come and get it back, then.” He’d utter, smirking. “I promise I don’t bite…hard.”

You fought back a scoff. “You won’t be able to bite at all if you don’t cut it the fuck out…it’s almost ten o’clock we need to start this.”

Mattheo rolled his eyes, again, his tongue piercing the inside of his cheek as he pulled the book out from under his arm, and stood up, moving over to the bookshelf behind your chair.

With suffocating snark, he knelt down, shoving the book onto one of the shelves lowest to the ground, all before turning back around and smirking at you, crossing his arms over his chest and shrugging casually as he cocked an eyebrow.

“You told me to give it back.” The arrogance in his tone was nauseating. “You didn’t specify where.”

“First of all, that’s the wrong shelf,” you’d mutter, watching his eyes follow you as you pushed up from the chair, veering closer. “And second of all, you’re not funny.”

Mattheo poised for a sharp retort, ready to counter with his usual biting wit. However, his words stumbled into silence as he observed you drawing near.

With a swift, almost calculated movement, you bent at the hips to retrieve your book beside him. The fabric of your skirt dared to venture higher up your thighs than convention allowed, leaving Mattheo momentarily entranced and rendering his intended response obsolete.

But the second you straightened out, meeting his eyes, lips teasing a knowing smirk, he was on you.

Your back slammed against the shelf as he grappled your hips, shoving you back. he towered over you, his lips pressed directly against your ear as he growled;

“You shouldn’t be bending over like that in front of me,” his voice was torn, shredded, and he finished the sentence off with a sharp “ever.”

your heart was hammering. “Why not, Matty? Didn’t enjoy the show?”

“You have no idea what that ass of yours does to me,” he groaned, his grip on your hips tightening. “Every fucking day I imagine railing it--I imagine fucking the attitude right out of you…you should know better than to tempt me.”

Theodore Nott.

“Look at that,” Theodore quipped, his snarky grin practically evident in his tone of voice. “top of the class again. how does that L feel, huh?”

you grumbled, rolling your eyes so far into the back of your skull that you were seeing white.

“don’t get cocky, Nott.” you nearly snarled, the frustration seeping from your lips like breath. “it’s not a good look on you,”

theodore merely chuckled, knowing that was a complete fucking lie.

cockiness was an infuriatingly good look on him, and that was solely due to the fact that the objects of his arrogance were damn impressive achievements that could make anyone green with envy.

the man was unfathomably smart for an arrogant jock whose life was dedicated to being the best quidditch player to ever exist.

clucking his tongue, he’d shoot you a knowing glance. “you sound jealous, bella. what’s your grade?”

as he tried to lean over to glimpse your mark, you pulled your paper away from him, scowling. “how about mind your own business, hm?”

he’d chuckle. “never been known for that, have i?”

Before you could formulate a response, Theodore snatched the paper from your hands, leaning away to sneak a glance at your mark. Your groan of irritation resonated, signaling your exasperation with his antics.

Annoyed, you reached over to grab your paper back, your low-cut blouse exposing more of your chest than you’d intended.

As soon as Theodore’s eyes fixed on your chest, noting your breasts practically spilling out of your shirt, he paused; his fingers involuntarily releasing the paper without further fight, his lips parting and eyes darkening.

“merlin,” he’d breathe, his voice torn. “you trying to give a lad a fucking heart attack, wearing a shirt like that?”

your cheeks grew warm, his eyes not once breaking from your chest as you straightened back out in your chair, adjusting yourself.

“it’s rude to stare, Nott.” you’d say, fighting a grin. “didn’t your mommy ever teach you that?”

Theodore let out a low groan, edging his body closer to yours. His lips dangerously neared your ear, and he couldn't resist sneakily glancing down your shirt, unable to control his wandering gaze.

“it’s rude to tease, Bella,” he’d purr, his voice a dark murmur. “and truth be told, i can’t quite help myself…”

you huffed, unable to stifle your smirk. “sounds like you need a refresher in manners.”

“Oh, principessa,” he’d retort, his voice laced with need. “you can refresh me in anything you want as long as i can see more of those perfect tits of yours.”

Tom Riddle.

Tom Riddle was an absolute brilliant genius;

a good man. a private, by-the book type of student.

and if you were being completely honest with yourself, this was precisely why the two of you didn’t quite get along.

it seemed as though Tom had it out for you, as though he had some sort of personal vendetta to make your life a living hell.

At every opportunity, he wielded his prefect powers to land you in trouble for something. Perhaps, in all fairness, you should have known better than to sneak into the restricted section of the library or prowl around the castle late at night,

but, gods. couldn’t he just cut you some bloody slack for once?

Admittedly, you were afraid to cross Tom. You weren't eager to be on his bad side, but at the same time, you weren't prepared to entirely abandon breaking the rules and having fun just because you were aware he could catch you.

so instead, you learned his schedule, where he’d be and at what times, knowing how to effectively avoid him.

the man was a cunning genius, you knew he could effectively destroy you if he so pleased.

but, on this particular night, he was set to be patrolling the dungeons for at least another two hours, giving you plenty of time to sneak into the library and do a little research.

and everything was going extremely well, hidden in the restricted section, blanketed by the nights encompassing darkness, when you noticed your shoelace was untied.

Bending down to address the matter, a peculiar sensation tingled through your senses as you completed the task. A subtle shift in the atmosphere hinted at an approaching presence, and just as you straightened up, the hushed cadence of footsteps drew closer.

Before you could pivot to face the intruder, their looming silhouette materialized behind you.

A towering figure, their breath, warm and palpable, brushed over your ear as they leaned in, setting your nerves on edge.

“you shouldn’t be bending over like that in public,” the voice was a deep, dark rasp in your ear, the arrogance in the tone unmistakable. “some people might think you’re a little slut.”

heat rushed you, your thighs clenched. “and what if i want some people to think that?”

immediately understanding your suggestive remark, Tom wasted no time before grappling your hips and spinning you around to face him, one hand slithering around your lower back and grasping a palmful of your ass.

“filthy whore,” he’d growl, his voice shredded now, barely restrained. “breaking the rules and showing off that perfect ass for anyone to see…calls for punishment i’d say.”

his teeth found your neck and you whimpered, clutching onto him. “i’m-“

Tom pulled back, meeting your eyes. “bend over the desk, now.”

#sorry #i got extremely carried away #18+ au.

[eightmakesonebraincell]

the essence of youth is summers with you

genre: poly!surfers!ateez x fem!reader, childhood best friend!san, sort of college!au, slice of life and coming of age, slow burn, fluff, angst

length: 38.7k

c/w: surfer!ateez (deserves a warning), explicit profanity, hella angst, mentions of alcohol, themes of sexuality and homophobia, arguments, implied toxicity (not the boys), miscommunication, kissing, m x m interactions

synopsis: when you move away from your hometown at the age of six, you discover that summer in namhae takes the form of a skinny, dimpled boy who loves the sea and holding hands– choi san. but as the summers go past and he goes to seoul for college, bringing back new friends each year, you start to develop feelings that run deeper than just friendship. will your summers of youth become ones of love and dreams, or will they end in pain and heartbreak?

a/n: i owe the biggest thank you to yumi @sorryimananti-romantic for making this fic possible and for all the support she's given me in the last three months. this fic has quickly become one that i hold dearly in my heart because of how healing it has been to write, so i hope this is also healing to read ♡

it’s the first day of summer when you move to namhae.

the houses and trees flicker past and eventually peter out into vaster fields, mudflats and stretches of beach as your father drives through the countryside from yeosu to namhae. you idly wonder if summer in namhae will be like what it is back in your hometown.

it isn’t very comfortable wedged between your parents in the middle seat of the mini-truck, especially when some of the roads become unpaved as you arrive closer to the village. but you’re wearing your cute, yellow sundress with bumble bees across the front pocket, which is your big-girl dress, so you can deal with the bumpiness a little longer without complaining. the truck sounds like it’s going to give out as it groans and sputters to a stop in front of what will be your new home.

tentatively, you hop out and look around. it’s a quaint beach house that rests along a modest coastal embankment. when you walk closer to the edge of the port, you see that there’s a stretch of sand that leads to the ocean, and a little further down the coast is another beach house– your new neighbours.

the rattle of your truck must have alerted them to your arrival, because they come out with warm smiles and even warmer greetings. they exchange handshakes and hugs with your parents, then the attention falls to you. there’s a boy who peers out from behind his mother’s legs as she compliments your dress, his round eyes brimming with curiosity at the sight of a potential playmate other than his sister. you cling onto the side of your mother’s dress and the adults share a laugh.

the boy’s mother gently nudges him forward. “go on, sweetie. say hi.”

with another nod of encouragement, the boy shuffles closer to you with an impish grin. you realise he’s shorter than you are. “hi, i’m san. i’m six years old and i like the sea!”

the grip you have on your mother’s dress loosens a little as you mumble shyly in return, “i’m y/n. i’m six and i like the sea too.”

his smile grows impossibly wider, and his eyes and remaining reservations disappear at your words. reaching out, he grabs your hand in a physical declaration of friendship. your other hand falls away from your mother’s dress.

“we’re going to go play at the beach,” he announces, because you’re his friend now and friends play together.

on your first day of summer in namhae, you find that summer takes the form of a skinny, dimpled boy who loves the sea and holding hands.

“sannie!” you skid across the wooden floorboards of his living room in your sock-clad feet, startling his father who is sitting on the couch with a newspaper.

he peers at you from above his glasses with the smile that stays consistently warm, be it from him or his son. he chuckles, “hello, sweetheart, here to play with san again?”

you bow slightly in greeting and nod before you whiz off once more in the direction of san’s room. summer vacation has only just started and you and san have already spent seven summers together, but there are crabs to chase and waves to splash and sandcastles to build so there’s not a day to be wasted.

“choi san!” you holler again, thundering up to his door. you’re about to yank it open when san opens it from the opposite side, excitement already plastered across his face as he starts to yell your name too.

the moment he appears, you hurtle into his chest for a hug that ends up knocking you both off-balance. he stumbles backwards with you in his arms and rebounds off the edge of his bed, sending you both sprawling onto the floor in a fit of laughter. you’ve become familiar with the way his bedroom floor feels from these exact moments, and you’ve also become familiar with the way san’s arms feel around you from being wrapped up in his tight cuddles. you may love the sea, but you love being with san just a little more.

“do you have your bucket?” you ask, still tangled together on the floor in a mess of limbs and untamed hair.

san props himself up on an elbow and reaches behind you to reveal a large, plastic bucket. it’s purple with a white handle and it matches yours; blue with a white handle and still lying on its side from when you dropped it in favour of hugging san.

you sweep up your bucket with a cheeky grin, “race you to the beach!” using san’s chest as leverage to stand up, then pushing him onto his back again by his shoulders for good measure, you take off for the door.

“that’s cheating!” he yells after you.

you sprint with glee back through the living room, barely managing to brake in time to avoid running headfirst into his mother. you greet and farewell her in a single breath before you’re off again, forgoing your sandals when you hear the thundering of san’s footsteps and a warbled bye mum! bye dad! catching up behind you.

the pavement is hot under the bare soles of your feet but soon enough you leap off the sidewalk, bucket clattering in your hand, and the ground turns cool and soft as you run across the sinking sand. san jumps after you with a battlecry of his own and you scream when you feel him right on your tail. he catches up as you near the waves and with a final burst of energy, he grabs your hand and tugs you along with him.

your grip on your bucket is lost once more when you yelp and focus on keeping up instead– san’s only got an inch on you now but why is he so much faster than you? the wet sand starts to grow colder, salty water splashing everywhere the further you sprint. neither of you slow down– not that you could with san dragging you along right into the thick of the crashing waves as he whoops.

you dread the day san will actually be tall enough to pick you up and toss you into the water, but for now, you give him the satisfaction of pretending. you wait for him to bend down a little, then you kick the water right into his face. he splutters indignantly and blinks the sting away until he can see the wide smirk on your face. his tongue pokes his cheek as he gives you a scandalised smile, before he cocks his head and sniggers, “your turn.”

you take that as your cue to run. san dips his bucket into the water, scooping it up full to the brim, then starts chasing you with faux anger that makes you shriek in delight. you yell breathless apologies over your shoulder in between giggles but they all fall upon deaf ears as he continues streaking after you, bucket held high like a madman with an axe.

you end up slowing down because it’s hard to run through water, and you’re met with the icy downpour of water over your head. san laughs triumphantly when you look at him with the ferocity of a soaked kitten. you eye his bucket and weigh up the odds of snatching it out of his hands versus dunking him headfirst underwater through sheer force. realistically, you have no chances of doing either. plus, san knows you too well.

“use your own bucket, you loser,” he banters as he hides his. and yet, he walks back to retrieve your bucket for you before it’s swept out by the waves.

“are you cold?” san asks whilst passing it to you.

there’s vigour and liveliness thrumming through your every vein. “no,” you answer, “‘m not cold.” never with you.

he nods, “let me know if you do get cold, okay? i’ll grab you a jacket or something.”

“my house is literally next to yours. i can get one if i need to,” you chuckle.

“i know, but it’s the principle of it. just shut up and let me have my chivalrous moment.” san sits with the characteristic huffiness of a teenager who thinks he’s all grown up now that he’s in high school. but it’s not very convincing when he immediately starts to shovel sand into his bucket with the enthusiasm of a puppy.

“okay, thank you, sannie. i’ll let you know if i so much as shiver,” you dotingly appease him.

he nods diligently, then pats the sand next to him for you to sit down too. you join him in filling up the buckets with sand so that you two can make your thirty second attempt to build a five-tiered sandcastle pyramid. so far, you’ve only ever gotten to the third layer before it starts to crumble apart.

“what’s wrong?” you ask when san stops packing the sand into his bucket.

you realise he’s distracted by something in the distance and you follow his line of sight to find a lone surfer riding a wave in the horizon. san watches as the man’s body becomes an extension of the ocean– a dancing duet with the rolling waves as he stands steadily on his board with powerful elegance. when the board glides towards the shore, the man spreads his arms like an eagle’s wings and lets himself fall backwards into the sway of the water.

san is suddenly filled with yearning to learn of the sea’s choreography. he declares, “i want to become a surfer.”

“what happened to becoming a dancer?” you raise an eyebrow. because if there’s one thing that san loves just as much as the sea, then it’s dancing.

“becoming a dancer is still my dream. i meant surfing as an interest,” he breathes out. “just look at him. he looks so…free.”

you can see it in the way san’s eyes follow the surfer’s movements and sparkle with wonder– the moment he falls utterly and hopelessly in love. “then try it,” you encourage, “what’s stopping you?”

san tears his gaze away from the ocean to look at you instead. the same, loving gaze stays on his face. “nothing,” he proclaims with a growing smile. “absolutely nothing.”

san has all the summers in the world to surf. and you’ll be there with him for every single one.

you watch as san fixes his surfboard to the top of his black jeep– the last of his luggage to be loaded.

“i don’t get why you’re taking that with you. there’s probably nowhere to even surf in seoul.” you know you sound like a snobby six-year-old and not the eighteen-year-old that you are, but you don’t really care right now. not when san is leaving and you won’t be able to attend college together like you thought you would be.

tugging on the straps once more to check that they’re secure, he chuckles, “doesn’t hurt to take it just in case.” when he sees the forlorn look on your face he adds, “i’ll be back every summer, yeah?”

“it won’t be the same. who am i going to hang out with every day?” you grumble.

san laughs endearingly, “it’s only until i graduate.”

“or you find a job or a girlfriend and then you’ll stay in seoul forever.” you cross your arms defiantly as san steps closer and reaches out to ruffle your hair. where you had stopped growing at fifteen, san is still growing and he now towers almost half a head over you.

“just four years–no job, no girlfriend–and then i’ll be back. i promise.” he opens his arms a little, “now, do i get my goodbye hug or do i need to tickle it out of you instead?”

you huff before uncrossing your arms and sinking into his warm embrace. he folds you into his chest as your arms wrap around his waist. closing your eyes, you memorise the feeling of his back muscles flexing under your hands while he gently rocks you side to side. you soak in his body heat that swaddles your entire being in safety and home. you breathe him in one last time when you bury your face in the crook of his neck, nuzzling the steady pulse that beats there.

“i’ll miss you,” you whisper, because you don’t trust your voice not to crack if you speak any louder.

san presses a soft kiss against your hairline and admits, “i’ll miss you more.”

you bite back the urge to respond with ‘then stay’, cherishing the moment for a little longer instead, before you step away so that he can say his goodbyes to his family. he hugs them one by one; his father, his sister, haneul, and lastly, his mother. she’s discreetly wiping at her tears and you have to look away so that you don’t start crying too. because if you start crying, everything will become blurry, and you can’t afford that when this is the last time you’ll see san until next summer.

you all gather around the driver’s window that’s rolled down to the very bottom when san is finally seated. seeing him buckle his seatbelt ready to leave overwhelms you with a sense of finality and your eyes well up before you can blink the hotness away. san stretches a hand out to thumb away your tears and makes a sad noise, “don’t cry, please? we can call whenever you want.”

you sniffle, “call me when you arrive?”

he nods with that dimpled smile you are already starting to miss. and then just like that, your best friend is gone. you stand outside his house for a stretch of time, even after the outline of his jeep has long since disappeared into the distance. it may be the last week of summer, but it feels like it’s the middle of winter today.

san’s eyes flick upwards to look in the rearview mirror, even though he hasn’t been able to see your reflection the last three times he’s looked. he had tried to appear as collected as he could to avoid making it any harder for you, but now he regrets not holding your hand a little longer; a little tighter. and if san tears up a little as he starts the four-hour drive up to seoul, then that’s between him, the car, and the playlist you made just for him.

you absentmindedly tug on a crease in your bed sheets as you laze on your bed, phone on speaker so you don’t have to hold it. “what was that?” you pull your device closer to your ear. “are you going somewhere?”

there it is again– the beeping sound of a car in reverse. the warning signal stops as san answers vaguely, “home.”

you jolt up into a sitting position, a growing sense of excitement making its way across your face as you dare to ask, “home?”

“yeah, home,” san confirms, and you can hear the smile in his voice this time. “i told you i’d see you soon, didn’t i?”

“i didn’t think you meant in five literal minutes,” you almost trip over your own feet in your hurry to slip some shoes on. “oh my god, is that why you said you couldn’t facetime me?”

you can hear his answer this time– not the scratchy voice that comes from your speaker, no– the smooth deepness of san’s voice close by. and there he is. after almost a year of freezing days, absent dimples and longing calls, choi san is finally back in namhae for the summer.

in quick succession, you notice three things. one, san has returned from seoul with triple the number of surfboards that he left with, strapped to the top of his black jeep. two, said man is now almost a whole head taller than you as he watches you with a smirk and disconnects your call. and three, he’s not alone.

if you think that san is tall, then the two guys that hop out of the jeep after him are even taller. one of them runs a veiny hand through his dark brown locks, which fall back down to softly frame his face. the other turns in your direction after closing his door and you realise you’ve seen him before– both of them, actually.

on top of your spontaneous calls with san, you facetime him every friday afternoon after your own classes have finished. he’s usually in one of the university’s dance studios because, as a dance major at kq university, the studio is basically his second home. san mentions his friends every now and then and they’ll appear behind him to say hello to you or you’ll be able to hear them in the background of the call.

quite frankly, the crusty quality of san’s front camera hardly does them justice because wow. they’re hot. and tall. they’re not letting you forget that fact when the three of them step away from the jeep and closer to where you and san’s family are waiting to welcome them.

san greets his parents with a hug before he gestures to his friends one by one, “yunho, mingi. the friends i was telling you about.”

yunho and mingi thank san’s parents for letting them stay the summer and apologise in advance for the inconvenience. but from the way they’re immediately told that their extended stay is more than welcome and that hopefully the drive down from seoul wasn’t too tiring, you know san’s parents have already adopted the two well-mannered boys as their own sons.

“hey, pipsqueak,” san sidles up to your side whilst his parents fuss over his friends.

you look at him, appalled by the sudden nickname, and even more so as you swat his hand away when he playfully ruffles your hair to tease, “looks like you’ve been busy doing everything but growing.”

“on second thoughts, maybe i don’t really miss you.”

san laughs, the tinkle of the sound like the crisp smell of the ocean during sunrise. he pulls you into him and that’s all it takes for you to melt in his embrace. despite your earlier quip, you’ve missed san terribly. it finally feels like namhae now that his familiar arms are around you again.

the rumble of san’s chest is soothing as he says, “well, i miss you. it’s good to be back home.”

you pull back a little to look up at him and god, he’s gotten so much taller. “it’s good to have you back home, choi san.”

the sound of approaching footsteps breaks your hug apart and you give the two boys a friendly smile as san roughly introduces your names, “but you all already know that, considering you guys basically see each other every week.”

“on top of the fact that san doesn’t shut up about you,” mingi jokes.

san punches him in the arm and mingi amends himself with a laugh, “namhae! he doesn’t shut up about namhae!”

yunho snorts, then offers you a small hug as he properly introduces himself. he leaves enough space between your bodies for the holy spirit to boogie when his arms encircle you, and you honestly find his courtesy extremely endearing.

“are you two also dance majors?” you ask.

“yeah, so we share some classes together,” yunho explains. “mingi and san are in the department of dance performance though, whereas i’m in choreo, so they have all their classes together and i only share the core ones with them.”

“good thing, too,” mingi joins the conversation and rests an arm around the other’s shoulder. “i’ve known him since high school and i was honestly starting to get a little sick of his face.”

he earns himself a jab to the side and he keels over with a dramatic groan. both san and yunho ignore him in favour of stepping back towards the jeep to unload their surfboards. you eye the boards with curiosity, recognising the white deck with the yellow and blue tail to be san’s. the design is simple, but san had used his own money to purchase it as his first transition board after the beginner-level mini malibu his parents had gifted him, so it’s his baby.

“are these all yours?” you question as san rests the tail of his board on the ground.

he shakes his head with a flustered laugh, “the guys brought theirs along too.”

mingi reaches for his board after yunho takes his and your jaw drops to the ground. “you all surf? wait, so you can surf in seoul?!”

“no, you were right. you can’t,” san chortles in embarrassment. “but there are a couple of indoor surfing places that we can go to.”

mingi hikes his surfboard against his hip, “doesn’t beat the real thing, though.”

“nope, which is exactly why we’re crashing. sorry, by the way–we probably should’ve asked you whether we could come,” yunho scratches the back of his neck.

you frown, “of course you can. it’s not like i’m the town head of namhae or anything.”

“but they know we spend our summers together,” san lightly bumps you with the side of his hip.

“oh,” you can feel heat creeping across your cheeks, so you force it away by jumping on the opportunity to tease, “you know what? mingi was right. you don’t shut up about me, do you.”

mingi hollers at the ammunition you have just given him for future use and even yunho slaps his hand over his mouth to hide his smile. it’s amusing to see san flustering so easily now that there’s a new dynamic of friendship between you and the other two boys, and san resorts to giving both of his friends’ asses a good-natured kick in the direction of the beach.

as they lumber off with their boards sniggering, san effortlessly hoists his own board up and sideways and beckons, “let’s go.”

“you know i can’t surf, san.”

he flicks your nose fondly with his free hand, “not to surf, silly. let’s go get our buckets.”

your eyes widen and you stand on your tiptoes with excitement, “buckets?”

“of course,” san waggles his eyebrows up and down with his dual dimples. “we’ve got some serious sandcastle-building to show off.”

half an hour later, all three surfboards are tossed to one side in the wet sand as you share the buckets for an intense showdown between the ‘namhae ninjas’ and the ‘highschool homies’. san had shot down your suggestion to alliterate your team name with the word ‘neighbours’, claiming it was an insult to the bestfriendshipness between you two, but hadn’t been able to come up with a much better alternative himself.

san holds his breath as you upturn another moulded bucket of sand onto the third tier of your sandcastle pyramid. with little surprise, the foundation starts to crumble and triggers a chain reaction that topples it all over. as always, some things just don’t change, even over time.

mingi laughs at your sandy ruins with an awful lot of audacity for someone who had watched yunho build most of their sandcastle, only to then add a little stick at the very top as a finishing touch. he grabs his phone from where he had left it on the safety of his discarded towel and holds up the front camera to take a photo of you all.

where there used to be two sandcastles between two friends, there are now two sandcastles between four. mingi snaps the photo, eternalising the moment. some things do change over time, and sometimes, change is just the beginning of a new chapter.

“which one do you think looks better?”

your mother takes a step back to scrutinise yunho’s pick. “this one,” she points, “the other colour palette clashes too much.”

san nods solemnly in agreement and mingi squints at his own choice from beside. with the seriousness of their expressions, one would think that they’re discussing investment properties. in reality, you’re watching your trio of friends and your mother earnestly matching and colour-coordinating the floral prints of your father’s flowy farming pants to their button-up shirts.

noticing the dubious frown on mingi’s face, your mother nonchalantly skims her fingertips over the pants he’s holding. “this is one of my favourites because it has little leaves on it,” she remarks, before dropping her voice to a whisper so that only mingi can hear her next words. “it matches your shirt. i think you’ll look the best in it.”

he immediately perks up and you can’t help but compare him to a sunflower that thrives the most under a loving hand. it’s incredibly cute and you can also tell that your mother feels the same, if not obvious from the way she has been giving him extra hugs and compliments all summer.

you rejoin the boys after you have all changed into your pants. it takes a lot of self control not to laugh when you see how seriously they are taking their get-up; rubber boots hiked up to their knees over their floral pants, and their straw hats secured snugly with the chin straps. even as disinterested as your father originally was when the trio had first arrived at the beginning of summer, he now lingers behind the sliding glass doors to watch you and san attempt to teach the tall boys how to plant rice seedlings in the paddy field.

yunho grabs a small, prepared bed of seedlings and turns to look at you cheekily. “want to be a rice friend and show me how to plant these?”

you level him with a stare that makes him chuckle and apologise, “sorry, i won’t say that a-grain.”

he looks awfully pleased with himself, so you turn on your heels in pretence to ditch him for mingi instead. you let out an involuntary yelp when yunho prevents your escape by quite literally manhandling you back next to him. he dares to up his charm by using his wide, sparkling eyes on you as he thrusts the seedlings into your hands, like a child waiting for you to open a bag of snacks– how could anybody say no?

you talk him through your demonstration, separating a small cluster of seedlings from the seedbed before transplanting it into the field. once he seems confident, you let him take over. it’s mesmerising to watch yunho’s hands as he deftly carries out each step– the way his long and slender fingers move with coordination and grace. despite it being his first time, he works skillfully like someone with years of experience. you’ve come to realise that yunho’s good at doing things that involve physicality, like dancing, surfing, and now farming.

“how did you start surfing?” you wonder.

yunho stills momentarily, before he separates another cluster of seedlings and runs his fingers through its green shoots. “i actually started surfing because mingi wanted to try,” his voice is fond. “it’s been four or five years now.”

“that’s really sweet of you.”

he ducks his head bashfully, then asks, “what about you? how come you don’t surf?”

“san roped me into his first few lessons, but i never got the hang of it so i stopped,” you reveal. “i prefer watching, anyway.”

“maybe you just didn’t have a good teacher. i could teach you one day?”

you don’t doubt that he would make a good teacher, but you would most definitely be a terrible student. the shirt and board shorts that leave very little to imagination when he’s soaked, and the water that drips from the ends of his hair down his jawline and neck are distracting enough as they are from a distance.

you chuckle, “you’re going to need a lot longer than just a few days to turn me into a surfer. you guys leave this weekend, don’t you?”

“that’s true,” he hums. “but there’s always next summer…if you’d like that?”

at his words, you suddenly don’t know where to look. the rosiness that starts to colour your cheeks makes a small part of you hope that there is an underlying hint of flirting in his question. before you can answer though, you’re interrupted by san peering over your shoulder to look at yunho’s progress. “of course you’re good at this too.”

you crane your neck to look around san, where you find mingi squatting and planting seedlings in the rows that are within arm’s reach.

“how’s he going?”

san glances back, “he’s, uh–well. he’s trying.”

“my hardest!” mingi yells across the field.

with a laugh, you stand up and slowly make your way towards him, leaving san and yunho to lay down the rules to see who can plant the most seedlings in the next half an hour. because apparently, everything needs to be a competition between them.

the seedlings that mingi has planted don’t look that bad, honestly. they’re a little lopsided, the spacing and height of each seedling a little inconsistent, but for his first time it really isn’t all too bad. you tell him such and squat down beside him. “here, let me show you.”

you gently remove one of the seedlings from the watery mud whilst talking, “they may just be plants, but they’re like people, too. if you treat them with love and care, you can see the same reflected in them.” you neaten the sides of the hole as you add, “you know, it’s kind of like how yunho loves and cares for you.”

having spent all summer with the pair, you notice all the times yunho subtly perks his head up to locate where the other boy is. all the times yunho brings him into conversation or back into the little huddle you’re all standing in. all the times yunho will wait for mingi to say what he wants or thinks before saying the same thing himself.

your fingers ease the seedling into the hole, then you fill it with soil and pat it down firmly to give the shoot the support it needs. “yunho told me he started surfing because you wanted to.”

at your words, mingi nods with a wistful smile; completely different from his characteristic cheerfulness. even the brightest of stars have moments where their twinkle dulls. “i was going through a rough time at home and i wanted something to distract myself…give myself a reason to get out of the house, even if just for a few hours,” he reveals. “sometimes, yunho and i skipped our morning classes and he would take me on long trips to the beach just so that we could surf.”

“i’m glad you had him to help you through that.”

“yeah, he’s helped me a lot,” mingi agrees. “he still does. sannie too.” as he talks, mingi attempts to plant another seedling the way you have shown him, and this time, it stands tall and proud amongst the other shoots beside the one you have planted.

“how are things at home now?” you ask.

he shrugs aloofly, an indirect answer that tells you everything you need to know. his gaze settles on the other half of your little summer quartet, who are now in heated debate over the winner of the planting competition. “both of them knew that i didn’t want to go back to my hometown over summer. that’s why san asked if we wanted to come here with him. thanks for letting us stay this summer, y/n. it’s meant a lot to me.”

your heart breaks a little at his words and you nudge him playfully, “stop treating me like i’m the head of namhae. there’ll always be a place here for the both of you.”

he lets out a laugh, a glimpse of his usual self. “we just know how much summers mean to you and san.”

“and meanings can always change for the better,” you counter with a smile.

mingi feels warm from the very inside. for a moment, only you and him exist in this bubble of comfort as you simply gaze at each other. and it doesn’t go unnoticed. yunho stretches his back with a satisfied exhale at san’s admittance of defeat before glancing at the two of you looking nice and cosy in the exact same corner of the paddy field you were working on half an hour ago.

“have you two just been sitting there this whole time?” yunho narrows his eyes as his words draw san’s attention.

“no?” you flimsily say, at the same time mingi confidently declares, “yes.”

the man beside you is back to his usual antics as he giddily fans the fire by gloating, “what are you going to do about it?”

yunho and san glance at each other and you start rising to your feet at the foreboding of danger. they nod.

that’s all the warning you get before they lunge in your direction. as dorky and harmless as the two of them look in their styled outfit of farming pants and straw hats, they are anything but that as yunho and san take frighteningly large steps through the rice paddy with their long legs. and just as your luck would have it, yunho is the one who is closest to you out of the two predators. you hardly think that it’s a fair chase between the tallest and the shortest.

“yun, we can talk this out like adults,” you try to distract him.

whilst you’re struggling for your life to pull your boots out of the squelching mud as fast as you can, yunho easily moves towards you with a devilish grin. you see his outstretched hands, covered in mud, and you decide right there and then that you’re not above begging.

“don’t come any closer! please, i’m sorry! i’m–” your pleads are cut off when he grabs you by the waist and hauls you over his shoulder.

for a brief second, you almost slip right over him face-first into the mud from the momentum and your life flashes before your eyes. but then yunho’s arms flex as he steadily grips your thighs and readjusts your weight, and you resign your fate to his shoulder and his pretty– but grubby– hands.

you twist your head to the side when a husky screech alerts you to victim number two and you find mingi at the mercy of san’s headlock. he rapidly taps the latter’s forearm, yelling mercy as you all burst out into laughter. very soon, the field turns into a playground of childish liveliness as all intentions of farming are tossed to the wind.

mingi was right in saying that summers mean a lot to you and san. but as you all chase and run away from one another around the muddy field, smearing loving handprints of dirt over each other’s faces and clothes, sounds of happiness loud enough that your parents can hear it from back inside the house, summer takes on a new meaning in the shape of you four.

in hindsight, it makes a lot of sense now why san’s parents had knocked on your door earlier this morning, entrusting you with the spare key to their house and waving goodbye as they drove away in their rented campervan. they had let you know that they would be going on a road trip along the coast this summer so that san and his friends could have the house to themselves.

you hadn’t thought much of it– just excitedly counted down the hours until the reunion of your little quartet. yunho had been texting you updates as he, san and mingi finally made the four-hour trip down to namhae now that they were on summer vacation. one of the last texts you had received had been a picture of mingi in the backseat, head lolling and mouth open in deep slumber, with the caption, ‘gonna need to wake sleeping beauty up soon XD we’ll be there in about twenty’.

this time, you had opted to wait for their arrival by sitting on the embankment outside your houses. your legs had dangled off the ledge as you looked out towards the beach, and at the telltale noise of their arrival, you had excitedly hopped up to your feet, only to be met with a sight that had your steps halting in fluster. and oh, this is why san’s parents had decided to yield the house. because this time, not only have the number of surfboards doubled, but so have the number of cars and boys that are suddenly in front of you.

as san turns off the ignition to his jeep, you’re dazedly swept up into a sandwich of hugs between yunho and mingi as they greet you eagerly. it’s good to see them again in the flesh instead of their measly five-inch-tall selves over facetime, and you’d be a little overwhelmed by their height on either side of you– having forgotten just how tall they really are– if your attention isn’t distracted by the opening doors of the banged-up ute behind san’s jeep.

either seoul has water that’s doped with something, or birds of a feather flock together, because each of the three boys that step out are equally as good-looking. you’d be lying if your heart didn’t skip a beat at the sight of them. you’re a simple girl with hormones weak for eye candy, after all.

yunho slings an arm around you and walks you a little closer as the new faces turn to look at you with friendly smiles. “this is y/n,” yunho introduces. “and these are our friends, jongho and yeosang.”

you notice that he skips over one of the boys, who starts to open his mouth in complaint, but then yunho continues on, “and this short one is hongjoong. we keep him as our mascot.”

hongjoong gives the taller his middle finger with practised ease and counters, “and we keep you as our tall circus freak.”

the way everyone snickers, yunho and hongjoong included, tells you that this is just about as average an interaction can be. after the boys properly greet themselves and pleasantries are exchanged with you, they decide to unload all their luggage so that they can rest for the afternoon. you walk over to the open boot of the black jeep, reaching for the last duffel and hoisting it into your hands.

before you can so much as take two steps, there’s a hand carefully taking the bag from yours. when you tilt your head up, it’s san’s kind eyes that are gazing back at you. “here, let me do it,” he casually tells you and then he walks towards the open doors of his house.

left with the outline of his back, you have a clear view of his shoulders flexing under his white shirt and you wonder when he started to fill out his clothes with muscle. you become conscious of the way you’re subtly ogling at your best friend, so you shake your head and walk over to the back of the ute instead where there are still a few bags left in the open bed.

there’s a small duffel that looks relatively light. as you drag it closer, you quickly realise it’s heavier than it looks. “what the hell is in this? weights?” you mutter to yourself.

there’s a giggle beside you, “sorry, that’s probably yeosang’s bag. he brings his supplements with him everywhere.”

it’s jongho this time, with his gummy smile and crescent eyes, who takes the bag handles out of your hands. he extends a brown paper bag out to you instead. “we can trade. this is much lighter.”

he easily picks up the bag of supplements and then reaches for a second bag to sling over his shoulder. for the amount of adorableness he exudes from his smile and laugh, the strength that he seems to have is on the complete opposite end of the spectrum. as he walks away, there’s the crunch of approaching footsteps and you see that it’s the short boy, hongjoong. he’s only short relative to his friends, because when he comes to stand beside you he’s still easily taller than you.

“maybe you could help me hold this, too.” he’s holding his closed fist out, making it impossible to discern what’s in his hands.

“what is it?” you ask as you open your hand, palm upturned for him to drop whatever he is holding into yours.

except he simply uncurls his fingers and intertwines them with yours, shit-eating grin plastered all over his face. a laugh erupts from your throat, only growing in volume when yeosang appears and interrupts by stepping between the two of you, forcing his friend to let go of your hand.

as yeosang grabs the last suitcase and closes the tailgate, he deadpans to the other, “san’s going to chop your hand off when he sees,” then he slings his free arm around hongjoong and ushers the both of you back into the house.

“it’s okay, i wouldn’t let san do that to you,” you reassure.

hongjoong smirks triumphantly at yeosang, only for you to wipe the expression off his face when you finish, “because that’d be animal abuse.”

“it’s been five minutes and you’ve already picked your side,” he laments dramatically, before nodding. “i see how you play. i like you.”

“it’s a shame i don’t,” you quip back immediately.

“fuck, did i just get rejected?”

yeosang shoves his friend through the doorway, “stop digging yourself a deeper hole.”

you all laugh as you shut the front door behind you to stop the cold of the air conditioner that san has turned on from escaping. you’re definitely starting to see the appeal hongjoong’s friends have in teasing him.

you take the bag of snacks still in your hand to the kitchen and you set it on the counter where san is drinking a glass of water. he’s watching the rest of the boys play ‘scissors, paper, rock’ over room allocations now that all their luggage has been piled up in the living room. he raises an arm and you easily slot yourself into his side and slide an arm around his waist. relaxing into the touch of his hand slowly rubbing up and down your arm, you also watch as the boys grow increasingly rowdy with each emerging winner.

you’ve had the fleeting thought before, but now that you’re seeing all the boys together, you realise just how attractive they all well and truly are. even san, you’re slowly starting to notice, does not lack in the face or body department.

“do you guys have a rule where you have to be attractive to be friends or something?” you ask, only half-jokingly. even though you had directed the question at san, it’s not him who answers you.

“aww, stop. you think we’re attractive?” of course hongjoong would be the one to overhear.

immediately, the feistiness in you appears. “yeah, and i’m wondering why they made an exception for you.”

he takes on the jest easily, “god, you’re obsessed with me.”

“you’re right, i’m a little crazy for dogs,” you shoot back, and you can feel the shake of san’s chuckles from next to you.

“good thing i’d bark for you, then.”

“what the fuck, guys?” mingi interrupts, “get a room.”

at that, san steps forward protectively and shoos his friends away, “hurry up and put your bags in the rooms so we can go surfing.”

yunho and yeosang take their bags towards the small guest room down the hall, whilst the remaining three head for san’s room. you turn to san incredulously, “you’re fitting four people in your room?”

he shakes his head, “of course not. i’m going to sleep in haneul’s room. she’s on a trip with her friends for most of the summer.”

“she can stay at mine when she comes back. until you guys have to go back to seoul,” you suggest.

“oh, that’s right. your parents are in yeosu now, aren’t they?”

you nod. you had told san a couple of weeks ago that your parents had moved back to your grandparent’s house for the meantime. they’re not sure how long they will be staying in your hometown for, but considering the deteriorating health of your grandparents and the fact that you are independent enough to take care of yourself, it’ll likely be for a while.

san doesn’t tell you, but that’s part of the reason why he has brought so many of his friends back this summer. he knows that you’re silently struggling to adjust– even if his parents take care of you like their own daughter– so he hopes that he and his friends can fill in some of the silence, even if just for the summer. he wishes it didn’t just have to be summer.

“do you need to change into something else before we go?” he asks you.

you look down at the t-shirt and shorts that you’re wearing. you don’t mind getting them wet, but you can’t say the same about your underclothes. “yeah, i’ll quickly go and change first.”

he nods and watches as you head towards the door to toe on your sandals. when you pull the door open, he gently calls after you, “it’s good to see you again, pipsqueak. i’ve missed you.”

you smile, “i’ve missed you more.”

even after the door closes behind you, san’s smile stays on his face. “i’ve missed you the most.”

no matter how many times you experience the thrill of getting tossed into the ocean, you still cannot fathom the fact that the once short, skinny boy who used to pretend to pick you up is now tall and strong enough to actually do it.

“you cheater!” you screech when you feel san’s arms snake around your waist from behind, lifting you up off your feet. “you said you’d give me a ten-second head start!”

his gleeful laugh rings in your ears as he ignores your flailing limbs and teases, “i did! your little legs are just too slow.”

you start to feel the coolness of waves splashing your ankles and toes the further san carries you out away from shore and your grip on his forearm tightens in anticipation. with a slight swing, he lets go of your waist and tosses you into the water. the next thing you know when you regain your balance and wipe the water from your face is the sound of san’s yelp as he disappears underwater. jongho grins from above, having leapt onto the older’s back, who in turn has crumpled under the unsuspecting weight.

san emerges with a hulk-like roar absolutely soaked to the bone, his black t-shirt clinging to his torso. the clear outlines of his chest and broad shoulders set off an unfamiliar skip in your heart yet again, and san lifting the hem of his shirt to wipe his face– revealing his abs in all of their wonder– does the complete opposite of calming you down.

you're fucked. there's no way you're attracted to san like that. in the form of petty revenge, said man brings his hands down to slap the surface of the water, splashing it right in your face and jongho’s and…yeah, that flutter of butterflies is gone.

san is caught right in the middle of the crossfire as you and jongho splash him, drowning his figure in torrential rain. the sounds of his choked laughter draw the attention of everyone else too, who have no idea why san is the target but are more than willing to join in. but with the plethora of water being splashed and the chaos of hands coming from every possible direction, the three of you end up drowning under the attacks.

hongjoong quickly loses motivation when his arms grow tired from doggy-paddling the water and yunho and yeosang’s attempts also slow down. they snicker at the aftermath– your trio absolutely drenched– and then rapidly skitter away before any of you decide to retaliate in vengeance.

at their cowardice, san bites the bait and goes hollering after them, leaving you with the youngest of your group of friends. jongho beckons towards the shore with his head and you’re momentarily distracted by his wet bangs falling over his forehead and eyebrows.

“up for more surfing?” he grins at you. and if there’s one thing you’ve learnt over the summer, it’s that you would kill for jongho if he asked you with his gummy smile.

jongho is a surprisingly good surfer. as the only one in the group who grew up in seoul with limited exposure to the beach, you can hardly tell that he’s a relative beginner in comparison to the rest of the boys unless you were a surfer yourself.

once they had become their close-knit group and they realised that most of them had a shared love for surfing, they had colloquially formed their own little surfer’s club, knighting jongho as their honorary member. he learnt to surf in indoor centres, during the occasional beach road trips they would make and through the experienced guidance of his friends.

of all six surfboards they had brought to namhae, jongho’s softboard is the one that is the most ideal for you to learn with. true to his words, yunho had attempted to teach you how to surf but on his own board– a shortboard great for experienced surfers to catch steep and aggressive waves, but terribly hard for a beginner to control. jongho had offered his board and so under his and yunho’s careful hands, you had spent your summer practising on the beach before slowly transitioning into the water.

which is where you find yourself now, on your stomach as you slowly paddle out. jongho stands close by and waist-deep in the shallow waters of the spot that he has led you to where the waves are few and calm. just a couple of metres away, yeosang idly straddles his longboard as he watches in support.

“you remember how to push through the waves?” jongho checks and you nod, gripping the rails of the surfboard and straightening your arms to lift your torso upwards.

“yeah, hang on,” he says, moving closer. jongho rests his hand gently on the small of your back to steady your body and you have to focus on what he’s telling you instead of the feeling of his warm hand. he taps the sides of the board a few inches in front of where your grip currently is.

“hold it here, otherwise your centre of gravity is too far back,” he explains as you shift your hands forward. “the board might end up tipping backwards when you go through the wave.”

you retry the movement with the new positioning and jongho nods in satisfaction, removing his hand and stepping back again.

“there’s a wave coming in we could try,” yeosang suggests.

the slight swell of a forming wave starts to appear in the horizon. it doesn’t increase much in size the closer it gets, but as it reaches its peak height, the top breaks and turns into a whitewater wave. yeosang is out a little further and so he demonstrates how to push through first, lifting his torso above the break as his surfboard cuts through the wave.

“okay, ready? hold steady, steady,” jongho encourages, helping you time the movement, “and push up!”

you follow his call and straighten your arms to lift your upper body out of the wave’s trajectory, guiding the nose of your surfboard through at the same time that jongho dives under the wave. although your face still gets splashed with some water and your board trembles slightly in your grasp, you make it through the wave without tipping over.

“i did it!” you yell, shakily sliding yourself further up your board so that you can straddle it.

“you did it!” the boys respond excitedly.

jongho jumps up and down beside your board, prompting yeosang to slide into the water to join your side. you laugh brightly at the sense of achievement and at the sight of the two boys bobbing around you in a merry-go-round of exuberance.

“just a little more practice and you’ll be taking on the monster swells in no time,” yeosang declares. you know he’s exaggerating, but it makes pride bloom in your chest regardless.

somebody calls out your names and you all turn to look. it’s san standing near the waters, gesturing behind him as he yells, “we’re going to walk to the mart to get some ice cream. do you guys want to come?”

“yes!” you shout back, “wait for me!”

ungraciously tumbling off your surfboard in a hurry so that you can pull it back to shore, the boys chuckle at your eagerness. jongho grabs his board from out of your grasp so that he can carry it instead and the boys all trail behind you as you bound past san towards the pile of your belongings on the sand. while you sift through the heap for your sandals, your other hand subconsciously peels your clinging shirt away from your body. you feel the presence of someone coming up behind you and assuming it’s san, you straighten your back with a phone in your hand.

“san, you left your ph–” you start, except it’s yeosang, who bends down to pick up his towel and drapes it around you. it’s warm from the hours it’s spent in the sun and you can’t help the pleasant shiver that runs through your body. yeosang tugs it snugly over your shoulders and then takes the phone from your hand.

“here,” he tosses it to its owner, who falls into step behind you.

san nods his head in thanks and rummages under a towel where your sandals have been hiding before placing your shoes by your feet. “the ground’s pretty hot,” he says as he offers you his forearm to steady yourself with, patiently waiting for you to do up the buckles around your ankle.

“wait, i forgot my wallet,” you tell him once jongho and yeosang rejoin you after putting their surfboards away.

“don’t worry about it,” san reassures, “hongjoong’s buying.”

your ears perk up and he laughs because he knows exactly what you’re thinking. “yes, y/n. bleed him dry and order whatever you want."

"even a double–no, even a triple scoop?" you exclaim scandalously.

san's eyes drip adoration, "yes, even a triple scoop."

you run ahead with a cheer, blabbering jongho’s ear off about how if you get three different flavours and he also gets three different flavours, then you guys get to share six flavours, before yeosang joins in with excited chatter about how you guys can make it nine flavours if he does the same. you catch up with the rest of your friends and somehow, like a devilish cult, you all start to chant, “bleed hongjoong dry! bleed hongjoong dry!”

the oldest jokes that he only offered to pay for yours, not everybody’s, so mingi starts to tell you what he wants so that you can order in his stead, setting off a chain reaction as everyone else places their orders through you. they surround you, happy jostles and raucous snickers as you disappear in the middle of the group.

from behind, as san watches you grow closer and closer with his friends each summer, he can’t help but feel like he’s going to burst from affection and pride. he knows it will be a while until your parents move back to namhae, as is the same for himself until he graduates. but between his group of six– which will hopefully become the full eight next summer– and the group chat that you all made within hours of meeting each other, san is confident that you’ll never feel alone.

“if only wooyoung was here, then we’d have someone to grill the meat properly,” yeosang muses as he watches jongho flip and examine the packaging of the beef. “he’s the best cook out of us.”

“trust him to be a good cook, too,” you comment.

when you had first met yeosang, jongho and hongjoong, they had told you that there were two other friends who weren’t able to make it to namhae with the rest of them this summer. one of them was wooyoung, who naturally became part of the group after attending the same dance club as yunho, mingi and san. wooyoung had then been paired up with jongho during an inter-department project between the department of film & multimedia and the department of drama, growing close to the younger and by extension, to hongjoong, a senior in jongho’s drama society.

their other friend was seonghwa, they had told you; the oldest in their group and also in the year above like hongjoong. however, seonghwa attends a completely different university along with yeosang, the both of them undertaking a degree in education at seoul national university. they share some senior classes together, as yeosang had transferred from a law degree and had some of the credit prerequisites to jump ahead. and since yeosang is a close family friend of wooyoung’s, the three of them gradually became well-acquainted with each other.

it’s a running joke that you don’t need to remember how everybody knows each other– you just need to know that wooyoung is the common factor between them all, the person who decided that all of his friends should be friends with each other. so not only is wooyoung a social butterfly, seemingly charming and witty with good looks– should the boys’ track record stay true– but apparently he’s a good cook too. some people really just have it all.

“what else do we need?” jongho asks, haphazardly placing a few packets of the meat into the shopping cart he’s pushing.

“mingi said it would be good to make smores at the end of the night,” you answer.

last summer, during the final week that mingi, yunho and san were in namhae, you had all decided to have a barbeque feast and then spend the rest of the night huddled around a small campfire on the shores of the beach. it had been one of your favourite memories, simply basking in the peaceful buzz of summer and slowing your lives down just for one night to do nothing. you had suggested turning it into a tradition, and now that the final week of this summer has arrived, you’re all at one of the few grocery stores in namhae to stock up on food, snacks and drinks for the night.

“let’s see if they have marshmallows, then,” jongho makes a move to walk away.

hongjoong suddenly interrupts the conversation, appearing with an empty trolley in front of him. “get in,” he tells you.

yeosang helpfully points out, “that sounds like something a man with a tinted white van would say,” at the same time you question, “are we even allowed to do that?”

he beams, “i like to think that until somebody tells us we’re not allowed to do something, we are allowed to do it.”

“i can think of fifteen different reasons right now why that’s terrible life advice.”

the man simply nudges your side with the end of his trolley and you half-heartedly frown, “i’m really hoping this seonghwa friend is more responsible than you are, seeing as he’s older.”

“i hate to break it to you, but seonghwa’s worse,” jongho grimaces. “maturity ages backwards in this group, unfortunately.”

at jongho’s words, you turn to look for yunho, hoping that as the next oldest down the line he can talk some sense into hongjoong. only you’re met with the sight of the overgrown man pushing his own shopping cart with a very cramped but happy mingi sitting inside.

you sense defeat when hongjoong nudges you once more. “i can’t believe i’m doing this,” you mutter to yourself as he holds it steady for you to climb into. after all, you think, what’s life without breaking a few rules?

except nothing prepares you for the absolute madness that unfolds the moment your bottom touches the cold, metal gridding of the trolley. hongjoong quite literally revs the handlebar with engine sound effects, before charging through the aisle at full speed in an apparent race against yunho and his passenger princess. you hold on to for dear life, thinking that this will be over once you reach the end of the aisle. but both racers show no signs of stopping, instead drifting with sharp cornering into the next aisle as you screech. half of you is terrified, but the other half of you is starting to seek the thrill.

“faster, joong! faster!” you goad when you can see san standing at the end of the frozen section, waving an imaginary chequered flag.

both carts rattle past him in a close match, and as opposed as you were to the idea at first, you argue passionately against the honorary referee and the rival team over who won first place. even jongho and yeosang pick a side and claim that their eyes– from three aisles over– are as trustworthy as VAR playback.

it’s no surprise when the ruckus you’re all making gets a store manager sent your way. but by some saving grace, most likely the begrudging understanding that everyone has done this exact thing at one point or another growing up, the store does not kick you out. they let you finish shopping for the supplies you need, but not without the glares of the retail workers following you and your friends regardless of which aisle you try to duck and disappear behind.

with hushed giggles and not-so-subtle elbows in each other��s sides, your group hurriedly pays and places the multitude of plastic bags back into the trolley. san and jongho take one of the trolleys each and you all walk back to the cars to load the shopping. you would think that a scolding would deter any further misbehaviour, but when you all see the relatively empty parking lot, there’s only shared smiles of deviousness and glints of mischief.

if anyone were to look at the parking lot outside the grocery store that tuesday morning, they would see a group of seven friends, clad in an eyesore disarray of sweatpants, shorts, pajama tops and slippers, pushing each other around in shopping carts like bumper cars with shrieks of joy, circling around the dusty jeep and banged-up ute that has become an enabler of their connection and happiness.

you may all be doing the very things that your older selves will look back on with exasperated smiles and disapproving head shakes in ten years. but in the moment, you are unafraid; uncaring of what others think, because you have your friends by your side. and this, you think to yourself, is the essence of youth and summer.

you wish you were older. because being older means that you’ll have graduated, and being graduated means that you won’t have to fucking study for your fucking exams. you let out a groan and drop your head onto the table, making an audible thump when your forehead misses the thick textbooks and scattered notes, and hits the solid surface instead.

“hey, you need those brain cells,” someone gently chides. haneul stands at the doorway to your bedroom, watching your misery with a fond smile.

“can’t lose what i don’t have,” you mumble back.

“take a break,” she suggests. “do you want me to get you something from the bakery?”

haneul laughs when your head immediately turns to look at her, your left cheek pressed against the table by the cheeky smile that adorns your face. she chuckles again, “got it. i’ll be back.”

you absent-mindedly listen as the lock of your front door clicks shut and then let out a deep sigh at the silence that follows. it’s been a few hours since you first sat down and started studying but it feels like you’ve been reading the same sentence over and over again with no progress. pressing your forehead into the table again, you groan in frustration.

your ringtone goes off and your hand blindly fumbles around for your phone, sliding what you’re relatively sure is the answer button. “yeah?” you say into the receiver.

“someone’s a little grumpy today,” a teasing voice sounds.

“hwa?” you sit up instantly, looking at your phone properly.

it is him, not only blessing you with the deep richness of his voice but also the visual of him in a black tank top as he looks amusedly at the facetime you have answered. “are you still studying?” he asks.

you deflate a little, reminded of why you’ve been creating a crater in your table with your head for the past ten minutes. “mhm,” you hum affirmatively. “except nothing’s going into my brain anymore.”

“sounds like you need a break.”

“that’s exactly what haneul said,” you grumble, although you’re not entirely sure why you’re so opposed to their suggestions to stop studying.

“because we’re right,” he quirks his eyebrow. “what’s haneul doing at yours, anyway?”

“taking advantage of my netflix while i slave away to pass my exams. but she’s forgiven since she’s buying me snacks.”

“then take a break until she gets back and you finish eating. it’ll only be an hour, tops,” seonghwa convinces. “i’ll even set an alarm to let us know when time is up and i’ll keep you company when you study.”

you sag a little into your chair, shoulders relieving of their tension as you concede, which makes him smile sympathetically, “just a few more weeks to go until summer and then you’ll be free.”

“are you taking up summer school again?” you ask.

after san had added you and all the boys into a combined group chat, you had made friends with the two that you didn’t get to meet. you discovered seonghwa hadn’t been able to make the trip to namhae last year because he had chosen to take summer school instead. he had wanted to complete some of his degree requirements earlier in hopes of working part-time during his final year to gain practical experience. wooyoung, on the other hand, had had a portfolio due for his film class that required the majority of his summer if he wanted to complete it in time.

seonghwa grimaces at the memory, “no, not this time. it was a mistake, honestly. i burnt out so fast the first semester back that i didn’t even end up applying for any jobs.” he points a stern finger at you and warns, “don’t ever think about doing summer school.”

“trust me,” you laugh, “i have no intentions of ever doing that.”

you appreciate his advice regardless, because as immature as the other boys had made him out to be, seonghwa really does look out for all of you as the oldest of the group. and more often than not, you find yourself gravitating towards him when you need comfort or reassurance. “does that mean i’ll finally get to meet you?”

seonghwa nods, “woo as well.”

the screen of your phone suddenly splits to make room for an additional video as somebody joins the call. you hear his voice before his video even buffers. speak of the devil.

“oi! why are you all calling without me?” wooyoung complains.

contrary to the roll of your eyes, a smile makes its way across your face as you respond, “we’re literally calling from the group chat. no one’s leaving you out of anything.”

and as if his appearance is some sort of talisman, more of the boys start to join the call one by one. even hongjoong’s profile picture appears, camera off and on mute, wanting to feel included even if he’s in the middle of class. yunho and mingi pop up from behind wooyoung, so you’re guessing they’re busy practising in the studio. you wonder where san is.

someone asks you a question about how your exams are going, but you’re momentarily distracted by the buzzing notification of a text. “hang on,” you mumble, “let me just…reply to this.”

it’s one of your classmates, johnny, asking whether you’re home right now. you had accidentally slept through one of the review lectures earlier in the week and he had offered to give you a copy of his notes. from his text message, it appears he’s close by and able to drop them off now. you reply an affirmative and then click back into the video call, asking, “sorry, what were you saying?”

the drone of shared chatter about exams and the upcoming break fills the silence of your bedroom, like the fluttering breeze of a pleasant spring day. if they were not already so closely correlated to the warm, golden rays and salty spray of the summer ocean, your friends would be spring– the season of fresh air, blooming flowers and thriving vitality.

“someone looks happier. who are you talking to?” haneul emerges in your bedroom having come back from the bakery, holding a pastry box.

you didn’t even realise you were subconsciously smiling. “i’m facetiming the boys.”

she smirks, eyes glinting with mischief as she waggles her eyebrows suggestively and drags out her words, “i see. so who is it that you like? or is it all of them?”

“quit it!” you pretend to shove her. “want to say hi?” you turn the screen of your phone in her direction and there’s a chorus of obedient hi haneul’s as you turn up the volume.

she waves and peers at wooyoung’s video. “where’s the baby brat?”

from somewhere within the call, san yells out indignantly, “stop calling me that!” there’s a slight rustle as he walks closer to take the phone out of wooyoung’s grasp and when you peer to have a look, you can see that he’s sweaty and red-faced from finishing up a routine.

“you still respond to it, so,” haneul shrugs.

she disregards her brother’s continued complaints to drop the box onto your table along with a neatly-stapled stack of handwritten notes. “i bumped into johnny outside and he said this was for you,” she explains as you take it gratefully.

at the mention of a boy’s name, wooyoung shoves his nose towards his front camera. he rapidly asks, “who’s johnny? is he haneul’s boyfriend or what? why’s he giving you something?”

even hongjoong flicks a message into the group chat to ask, ‘who tf is jonny’.

you hold up the paper to show the boys and laugh, “he’s my classmate, guys. and he gave me notes because i missed the lecture.”

wooyoung frowns at your answer, clearly dissatisfied as he complains, “why is he giving you notes. and–what the fuck? did he hand write them? what a pretentious prick.”

you ignore him in favour of opening the pastry box to see what else haneul brought back for you. “how did you know i love these?” you exclaim.

she gives you that same, mischievous look from earlier and as she starts to exit your bedroom to leave you to your call and sweet treat, she vaguely answers, “how do you think?”

from over your phone, the others start to ask what you’ve got in the box, allowing a certain boy to easily slip unnoticed into the background. but it doesn’t take a detective to work out how– or perhaps you should say, who– told haneul about your recent cravings.

because if there’s one person who knows you the best, one person who takes notice of even the littlest of things, then it would be him.

hongjoong lightly slaps your thigh in retaliation as your laughter jostles his head that’s resting on your stomach, which only serves to make you laugh even harder. he lifts his head to grumble, “stop encouraging him, y/n. he’s going to think he’s actually funny or something.”

with a shaky exhale, you wipe a stray tear away, because you don’t think you’ve ever laughed this hard in your entire life. now that you see their whole group dynamic in action with the complete eight of them, it’s like watching a live sitcom.

wooyoung looks at him with a smug expression…then proceeds to yank the older’s sock right off his foot before throwing it into oblivion. hongjoong jolts up and dives for him and they immediately tussle about on the floor of san’s living room. amidst all of the commotion, san sneakily goes for seonghwa’s socks and you’re glad that you had peeled yours off the moment you had walked through the front door because suddenly everyone’s socks are a target.

the successful harvests that are tossed away are immediately snatched up by mingi, who hurls them under the table, behind the couch and on top of the television. you think you can see one dangling off the lights too, but you’re not about to snitch. jongho joins the corner you have taken refuge in and yeosang follows soon after, content to stay far away from the havoc that has quickly turned into wrestling. unfortunately, wooyoung is unable to let the three of you watch the world burn peacefully. he yells at the boys, who choose this to be the time to actually listen to him for once, and you’re all left scrabbling in different directions when they dive for you three.

it’s only the first day of summer and the second hour of officially meeting the boys as their full group of eight, but you can already tell that the next few months are going to be filled with absolute chaos and mayhem. and so the summer that marks san’s third visit back to namhae passes by quickly as you and the eight boys fall into an easy routine. hours turn into days, days turn into weeks, and weeks turn into months. summer revolves around each other and there is never a moment spent apart.

you join the boys at dawn every day, clad in only a pair of shorts, a tank top and a light cardigan to shoulder because there’s still a slight nip of the early morning before the sun appears. you watch contentedly as they dance with the ocean on their surfboards– a duet of paddling out into the deeper waters and catching the breaks of the swells back towards shore.

the more you watch them surf, the more you start to realise just how much san has improved. you still recall the day san had fallen in love with the way the surfer used his own body and surfboard as an extension of the ocean, and you still have early memories of san’s lanky limbs flailing as he lost his balance over and over again, trying to replicate the same gracefulness. now, san is not just a dancer– he is the choreographer; the one who controls the ocean under his board.

as the early morning wears on, the serene crash of waves and intermittent squawk of the soaring seagulls are gradually interspersed with the boys’ rings of joy as they become more interested in pushing each other off their boards and splashing each other, rather than surfing itself. the strongest trio easily overpower everyone else and you shake your head fondly when the others don’t learn their lesson regardless of how many times they are suplexed underwater.

when the sun starts to wake up, they join you on the sandy shores, surfboards placed in a rough row so that you can all share them like seats. you lean against whoever is sitting beside you and watch the sunrise until your stomachs start to growl for attention.

greasy takeaway is always the foolproof solution. you share hearty burgers that are too tall to bite into and salty fries that are slathered in dipping sauce, sprawled out on the cool floorboards at san’s or yours, soaking in the refreshing coldness of the air conditioner on high without a care in the world for the electricity bill that is racking up.

afternoons are for the second round of the meal; bingsoo from the cafe, pastries from the nearby bakery or cheap ice cream from the mart. and after all the food, the best way to digest before you go out again at dusk to catch some of the waves is to take a nap.

the giant puppy pile of tangled limbs and human pillows is arguably your favourite part of the day. even if the ends of jongho’s hair tickles your nose and your arm goes a little numb from the way san hugs it and your neck feels cramped from resting on seonghwa’s shoulder, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

sometimes, when you’re all feeling rejuvenated, you’ll clamber into their three cars or happily pack yourselves into two and drive down the coast to one of the other beaches. the drive there is music blasting and scratchy singing at the top of your lungs with the windows rolled down, your flyaway hairs caressing the cheeks of the boys beside you. it’s rest stops to fill up on drinks and dessert– any excuse for more ice cream and a chance to make hongjoong’s wallet cry.

the trip back, on the other hand, is quiet, the designated drivers pressing softly on the pedals and turning with care so as not to jostle the sleeping passengers. you’re all exhausted and passed out against one another, faces pressed against a shoulder or the crown of someone’s head. slow music plays lowly in the background as the streetlights start to turn on like a warm greeting to welcome your group home.

and just as yeosang had once said, wooyoung is a good cook. dinner time becomes a bonding activity– as if every second of summer isn’t already a bonding moment– where you all experiment with different and increasingly complicated recipes. it usually ends up with him and seonghwa actually doing the cooking whilst everyone else eats the ingredients and tries not to accidentally stab someone with the knives, and dinner doesn’t usually actually become dinner until eight or nine o’clock.

but it doesn’t really matter when, half the time, the post-meal conversations turn into a slumber party after time slips away. if you retire early, you’ll sometimes be joined by haneul in your bedroom, who has stayed in namhae this summer. she’ll spill her workplace tea and you’ll gossip about your college peers late until the stars have long started to twinkle in the sky.

there are no scheduled bedtimes, no proper mealtimes, no time limits to complete things nor niggling guilt not to complete things– there is no formal routine. but when spontaneity and carefreeness become the everyday occurrence, that becomes the routine.

and as with any sort of routine comes the familiarity. familiarity finds itself in the way san sing-songs wake up, sleepyhead whenever you accidentally sleep in, and instead of shying under the covers at the sight of him in your bedroom, you whine for five more minutes. familiarity finds itself in the way yunho’s hands hover around the small of your back whenever you’re all walking to the mart for snacks and in the way wooyoung immediately reaches for the flavours he knows you like.

familiarity finds itself in the way you and hongjoong will bare puppy teeth at each other one moment then naturally use the other as a human pillow the next. it’s in the way jongho hides you when san tries to throw you into the water; the way mingi tucks your head into his shoulder when he spins you around in a hug; when seonghwa reminds you to reapply sunscreen whilst dotting the lotion along your cheeks and when yeosang quietly drapes you in his jackets after you get out of the water.

but the thing with familiarity, though, is that it’s easy for it to overshadow other things. rather than realising that there is a shift in dynamic or a change in heart, other growing feelings can be mistaken for familiarity instead. and you don’t understand this until you least expect it.

your hands fumble to catch the bottle of sunscreen that yunho has thrown in your direction before it ends up landing on yeosang’s face. he’s taking a nap on the towel next to you, disputing against everyone else’s remarks that he should take the opportunity to surf considering you’ve all made the two-hour trip to dadaepo beach.

you adjust the small umbrella that he brought along so that it covers his upper body, then uncap the bottle and lather the sunscreen over your arms and legs. it’s when you get to your back that you realise you won’t be able to reach all of your skin. san or seonghwa are usually around to help if you decide to forgo a cropped shirt over your bikini top, but they’re already running far along the shore and you can’t be troubled to yell out for one of them.

you’re starting to wonder whether you can get away with not applying sunscreen on your back if you just make sure you lie on it the whole time when hongjoong spots your plight in the form of a blank stare and squeezed lotion in the palm of your hand.

“your short arms can’t reach your back, can they?”

you imitate his laughter with an exaggerated tone, “who was it that needed my help yesterday putting sunscreen on his back?”

“maybe i just didn’t want you to feel too bad about yourself,” he shrugs and walks over to swipe the glob of sunscreen out of your hands. you roll your eyes, knowing fully well he’s incapable of taking care of you without pretending to cover it up with an insult.

“stop squirming,” he chides. the contrasting cold of the lotion and warmth of his hand sends a shiver down your spine and you try not to dwell on his gentle rubs for too long. he’s meticulous in making sure he doesn’t miss a spot, but he’s also careful and deliberate with his touch around the knotted strings of your top so that you don’t feel uncomfortable. hongjoong and the word ‘uncomfortable’ could never be in the same sentence though. but he doesn’t need to know that.

“there,” he pats your back twice like a mechanic would with the hood of a fucking car to signal that he’s finished his job and then callously walks away.

you decide to let him off the hook and settle down on your stomach to rest your eyes for a bit. yeosang knows what he’s doing, because the combined warmth of the sand beneath your towel and from the overhead rays makes you drowsy almost immediately.

you’re flicking your salt-crusted hair out of your face when a voice interrupts, “hi, i’m sorry to bother you.”

lifting your head up to look, you’re met with the sight of a girl around your age, timidly fiddling with the popsocket on her phone. you sit up and give her a polite smile, “that’s okay. can i help you?”

“um, i was just hoping to ask if he has a girlfriend?”

the boys are all scattered along the length of the beach, save for yeosang next to you, so you’re not entirely sure who the girl is referring to until you follow her finger. she’s pointing in the direction of hongjoong, who’s joined some of the others along the shore.

“the short one?” you clarify, smile fading a little as you shrug, “i’m not too sure, sorry.”

the girl shakes her head, “oh, no. i meant the boy on his left.”

choi san. you now fight to keep the smile on your face friendly when you reply, “not that i know of.”

the girl thanks you excitedly, walking off back to her group of friends who immediately huddle around her to hear your answer. you look away.

you don’t realise you’re staring at san until he turns in the distance and makes eye contact with you. his entire face lights up, eyes disappearing and shadowed dimples revealing themselves under the gleaming sun. wooyoung takes the opportunity whilst san is distracted to swing a handful of limp seaweed straight into san’s face and a laugh escapes you before you can hold it in. your best friend looks more betrayed by your laughter than by wooyoung’s antics.

the younger turns to look at you with pride and when he sees that you’re laughing, he blows you an exaggerated kiss and sends it flying in your direction with a teasing flurry of his hand. yunho charges in from out of absolutely nowhere and pretends to tackle the kiss mid-air, throwing the imaginary show of affection into the sand where hongjoong immediately joins in and stomps on it with his foot, before sending you a flying kiss of his own instead.

chaos ensues and both hongjoong and yunho run for their lives as wooyoung chases them with his deadly seaweed whip. he quickly realises that the taller of the two will be impossible to catch, so he locks in on the easier target and hongjoong screeches in fear.

you can’t help but shake your head adoringly as you continue to watch, eyes landing on san once more when the cat and mouse go tearing past him in a whirlwind of sand. san holds your gaze with a fond smile of his own and you have to remind yourself that it’s normal for the boys to have suitors.

you’re not dating san. you’re not dating hongjoong. you’re not dating any of the boys, and they’re certainly not yours. so then, why does it feel like they are? but most of all, why does your heart feel equally bitter at the thought of someone asking about any of the boys…not just your best friend?

the sight of the tube of aloe vera gel in the fridge– likely placed there by seonghwa– is a welcome sight. you had diligently reapplied sunscreen to your body with the boys’ constant reminders to reapply but you had carelessly forgotten about your face. you’re paying the price of your mistake now and the red skin across the apples of your cheeks and forehead is tight with a constant, dull throb.

grabbing the tube, you walk into the bathroom where hongjoong is currently blow-drying his hair, having callen dibs on the shower after the beach trip.

“hey, lil’ tomato,” he jests before he gets a good look at your face. “woah, that looks worse than it was an hour ago.”

you hum as you peer closer into the mirror, “this is probably the worst sunburn i’ve ever gotten before.”

hongjoong ruffles the back of his hair one last time under the dryer before unplugging it and setting it on the rack. he slips the tube of ointment out of your hands and then turns you by the shoulders to face him. that’s how you find yourself between hongjoong’s front and the porcelain sink, the edge of the countertop digging slightly into your lower back as you watch him squeeze a generous amount of aloe vera onto the tip of his finger.

he murmurs, “hold still.” with a light touch, he tilts your chin up so that he can see the angry skin of your face. the stark contrast between the characteristic roughness of his edges and the tenderness with which he applies the soothing gel on your face right now has you itching to tease him.

“admit it. you like taking care of me, don’t you.”

he rolls his eyes, “and you like being taken care of, don’t you. like when you needed your notes handwritten by johnny.”

ever since that one incident, the boys have never let you hear the end of it. they may not realise it themselves either, but really, they’re just trying to keep low tabs on this…classmate. even if the way they go about it reflects the emotional maturity of somebody half their actual age.

“i admit it’s nice to be taken care of. what about you, huh?” you challenge, poking his side testingly. “you like taking care of me, don’t you?”

you giggle when he squirms and you try it again to elicit another response, until he suddenly grabs your hand by the wrist.

“and so what if i do?” his words come out easily, but unlike the usual cockiness and flirtatiousness that he jokes around with, his tone is low and serious.

you don’t respond because you don’t know what to respond; you’re suddenly walking in uncharted territory– both in regards to his feelings and your own.

when his fingertips brush the area of your cheeks just below your under-eyes, you can’t help the instinctive flutter of your lashes. his eyes stare into yours and you swallow, noticing the way his gaze flickers down to follow the movement. there’s hunger in his pupils and longing in your chest. you don’t move away when he moves closer in.

your eyelids flutter closed once again, except this time in anticipation. his hands still cup your cheek and hold your wrist and when he brings his face down towards yours, you can feel the warmth of his body surrounding and intoxicating you. but as his nose starts to nudge the softness of your cheeks, hongjoong pulls away.

“sorry, i–this was a mistake. i shouldn’t be doing this,” he stutters. and just like that, the moment shatters.

“th–that’s okay,” you awkwardly smile. “this never happened.”

he nods without looking at you, “this never happened.”

you’re glad your face is sunburnt because you’re certain your face would be glowing from the embarrassment and shame you are overwhelmed with. hongjoong turns around before you can say anything else and leaves the bathroom, closing the door behind him and leaving you alone.

quickly, you lock the door and then stand there stunned into a stupor. because his…whatever the fuck that was, has given you startling clarity that he is right. you shouldn’t be doing this. you shouldn’t be kissing him when you want san and your six other friends equally as much.

and most of all, it was foolish of you to assume that he actually wanted something more than friendship. if hongjoong, the most flirtatious of them all, doesn’t have any romantic interest in you– or at the very least enough to want to pursue something more– then what makes you think you have a chance with any of the boys? what makes you think that any of them– much less all of them– would want you in the same way that you have now realised you want them?

in a way, your heart feels more at ease now. knowing that your feelings for the boys will be unfruitful one way or another, it’s much easier to ignore the now obvious lurch in your heart whenever they pull you into an easy hug or tell you that you look pretty. it’s easier to repress the longing you have for them when they help you put on sunscreen or surround your house with mischief and laughter.

you can’t tell whether hongjoong is actively avoiding you or whether he is conveniently busy with the other boys, but you suppose time apart right now is good for the both of you. after all, time is supposed to heal everything. and so even as the end of summer approaches and the much anticipated night of the barbeque and campfire tradition arrives, you keep your distance from hongjoong and he keeps his. simply two friends coexisting within the larger group of friends; nothing more, nothing less.

you’re all sitting on a patchwork of picnic blankets and beach towels spread around the small fire that san has constructed, now experienced from having made one three years in a row. haneul shares the towel with you on one side and yunho on your other.

dinner had been greasy meat grilled by wooyoung’s skilled hands paired with cheap alcohol that made you all wince when it went down. it had been finished off with skewered marshmallows– the most vital part of the night, as mingi had fervently reminded everyone.

someone had then suggested a round of ‘truth or dare’, which most definitely did not stop at one round. the flushed cheeks and tipsy slurs not only made the dares increasingly bizarre, but it made everyone daring enough to actually do them. as the night had continued on, the outlandish dares slowly trickled off and more of you picked to answer truth questions. with the mellowing ambience of the campfire and the clearing buzz of alcohol in your systems, it was only a matter of time before the night fizzled into calm.

“mingi,” haneul directs her question at the taller, “ if you were to date one of us excluding me, who would it be?”

his eyes dart from her to you and then to every single one of his friends. “i’d date you all,” he shrugs. “but if i had to pick one person, then probably yunho, since he’s been there for me from day one.”

yunho knocks shoulders with him appreciatively whilst joking, “your parents would love to hear that answer.”

you spot san and wooyoung cringing at the thought and you’re reminded of snippets of a conversation about surfing as a distraction and escape from home.

moving the game on, mingi asks seonghwa when he picks truth, “if you had to pick between love and friendship, which one would it be?”

seonghwa hums for a while, watching the dancing lick of flames. “i think it depends on the situation, because in the end, they’re not that much different from each other. in love there is friendship, and in friendship there is love. it’s impossible to say that one is more important than the other.”

there’s a collective boo as he skirts around the question, but you all understand where he’s coming from. it still doesn’t stop san from retorting, “the whole point is to pick one.”

seonghwa chuckles and downs half a shot to appease the other of his apparent half answer, then tosses the same question at him. “what about you, then?”

much to his disappointment, san actually has an answer.

“i would probably choose love. i think you’re right in saying you can’t separate love and friendship, but the thing that sets a romantic relationship apart is being in love,” he muses. “it’s hard to find friends you love, but it’s even harder to find a friend you fall in love with, so i would probably hold onto that no matter what.”

a few of you subconsciously nod along, words resonating with yourselves. haneul nudges you curiously, “what do you think?”

you relax into her side as you slowly formulate a cohesive answer from your thoughts. “i think i would choose love, too. i’ll admit it’s a much more difficult relationship than friendship and it often requires sacrifices to be made…it can even mean having to let go of somebody completely.”

hongjoong glances at you, guilt pricking at his chest.

“but at the same time,” you continue, “when you love somebody that much, sacrifice becomes something you want to give and are willing to offer to the other person, and you develop a depth of understanding, connection and intimacy strong enough to overcome anything that isn’t always possible with friendship.”

“you and san are both such gross romantics,” haneul pretends to gag.

“yeah, shoot us for it,” you poke her in the side. “wooyoung, truth or dare?”

“since everyone’s picking truth…truth.”

“who’s someone you’re sorry towards or thankful for?”

he whines indignantly, “why are we suddenly getting so personal,” but proceeds to think about his answer seriously. “if i’m honest, i’m sorry towards everyone. i know there are times i fall short as a friend and make mistakes, but you all always forgive me and embrace my imperfections so graciously. sometimes it makes me wonder if i even deserve you guys.”

there are immediate noises of protest and wooyoung smiles, waving away their words of objection because he knows that he’s wrong. it’s just that knowing doesn’t always stop him from feeling a certain way. “and of course, what i’m sorry for goes hand in hand with what i’m thankful for. but i’m also especially thankful for y/n,” he reveals.

your body reacts instantly to his unexpected answer, blood rushing towards your cheeks and ears as he looks at you appreciatively.

“i haven’t known you for as long as most of the other boys, but i’ve seen how happy and vibrant they are whenever they return to seoul or whenever they talk about you. and i can definitely see why, now. you make them happy–you make us happy.”

mingi clears his throat, jumping in to add to the younger’s answer, “when i’m here in namhae with you, with everybody, it feels like home.”

a home that he’s never really had until yunho, san, you, and the rest of the boys came along.

“so thank you for giving me a home here,” mingi looks at you earnestly.

if he were sitting closer, you would reach over and squeeze his hand reassuringly. instead, you tell him, “no matter how many years go by, you’ll always have a home here.”

“and the rest of us?” yunho jokes, lightly slapping your knee where your legs have slowly made their way into his lap over the night.

“you all have a home here,” you amend. because namhae is not the same without san, and namhae is not the same without the rest of your friends, either.

you continue asking each other questions, even after midnight has long ticked past and haneul has retired back to the beach house for some sleep. nobody wants the night to end, because despite already having been attached to each other’s hips all summer, the time you are spending now around the campfire is different. life slows down and the nine of you are the only ones to exist along with the stars and the ocean waves.

“you know what we should do?” wooyoung pipes up when you are all quietly watching the fire. he grins, “we should do that thing where we shout at the ocean.”

“just…straight up scream?” hongjoong frowns.

a smile starts to spread across san’s face as he understands wooyoung’s vision. “no, like our dreams. regrets. confessions,” san elaborates, making a move to stand and brushing the sand off his shorts.

seonghwa questions, “are we really doing this?” and yet he stands up as well.

“when will we ever get a chance to do this again?”

one by one, you all get up on your feet and wander down the beach closer towards the water. it’s silent, save for the crash of waves, while you eye each other and wait for somebody to start it off.

yunho clears his throat, then yells his next words from the very depths of his chest, “i want to become a famous choreographer!”

there are shared giggles at the striking contrast in volume after hours of low, heartfelt conversation, but it’s enough to fill the rest of you with courage and desire to do the same.

“i want my parents to accept that i won’t be a lawyer like they wanted me to be!” yeosang calls out.

mingi takes a huge breath with his entire body, “i hope i’ll win the lottery one day!”

you all break out into laughter, happiness and vigour running high through your veins. it definitely feels a little silly and a little childish, but is that not the charm of living in the prime years of your youth and spending it with your friends?

reservations now completely thrown to the wind, the boys holler and yell both serious and unserious aspirations with their entire soul, cupping the sides of their mouths with their hands to carry their voices further out across the waters. you watch them with deep affection and tenderness and your eyes suddenly start to well up with the intensity of your emotions.

thank you for showing me what love feels like. you can continue to love them as friends, and that is already more than you could ever ask for.

taking a deep inhale of the chill of emerging dawn and blinking away the blur in your eyes, you join the boys and yell your heart out to the ocean. your screams blend together into a symphony of dreams and hopes; the swell of the chorus and the pinnacle of the movie.

and even though you’re all half-delirious from the lack of sleep, hair ruffled and mismatched pajamas wrinkled, it feels like anything and everything is possible in this moment. from here on, it’s the nine of you against the world and whatever it may bring.

you’ve known johnny since you started attending namhae’s provincial college. being from a relatively small cohort and the same degree no less, you share most of your classes together. there’ll be a few times throughout the month that you’ll find yourselves sitting in the seat beside each other and maybe once a semester that you’ll complete a group task together.

he’s easy enough to get along with, conversation sprinkled with terrible jokes and random puns that remind you of yunho’s silly humour. you know for a fact as well that they’re the same height too, which sort of makes you wonder whether being tall has something to do with the way their funny bone develops, considering mingi’s humour is just as questionable.

you and johnny aren’t exactly distant enough to only be classified as classmates, but you’re not exactly close either. so it’s a surprise when, after summer ends and it marks a new semester, johnny asks you out on a coffee date on the weekend. (except the more you think about it afterwards, the more your seemingly random interactions make sense. why he asks for your number even after the group project is over. why he offers to drop off handwritten notes for you. why he sometimes favours sitting with you as opposed to with his own friends.)

initially, you tell him that you’re not interested, any potential awkwardness dissipating the moment he dramatically wails that he’s been rejected, much like hongjoong had when you had first met him. but then a week later, johnny coolly slaps an envelope onto the surface of your lecture table and struts off without looking back. when you open it, you realise it’s a three-page handwritten essay detailing his pros and cons in an attempt to try and win you over.

it reminds you of wooyoung, when he had made a whole presentation on his laptop complete with photographic and videographic evidence to try and convince you that he was the best dancer out of himself, san, yunho and mingi. like your friend, johnny’s efforts are honestly a little too hilarious and a little too endearing to reject for a second time, and it’s not like johnny has done anything to suggest that he’s a creep or murderer. so you let him take you out on the date.

he chooses to go to the small, quaint cafe that’s about a fifteen-minute walk from campus. coincidentally, it’s the one that you and san used to frequent before he moved away to seoul. johnny tells you to try the chocolate hazelnut dacquoise slices, which you do even though you know you prefer the strawberry ones more. the sweet mouthful makes you think of san, always offering you the first bite of his chocolate dacquoise in hopes of converting you to the flavour.

johnny pays for your dessert and drink and you two end up sitting in the cafe long after your plates have been cleared and mugs emptied to their bottoms. it turns out he likes spending time at the beach just as much as you do and he tells you of his summer trip to the maldives for his casual modelling gig. you’re not entirely surprised to learn of his part-time endeavours, considering you’ve never seen him dressed in anything less than loafers, chino shorts and a neatly-pressed button-up shirt. plus, johnny is objectively very attractive with his strong brows, chiselled jawline and dark locks of hair.

he offers to walk you home after your date, shrugging off his white button-up and passing it to you when you exit the cafe. it’s still warm enough in the afternoon to not need the extra layer, but you’re reminded of yeosang’s quiet yet perceptive gestures and it makes you smile nonetheless.

the weekend leads to a second date, followed by more time spent together. he finds reasons to see you throughout the weeks– the sun’s out which means you two should take a walk along the beach; he fell asleep during yesterday’s lecture which means you two should study at the cafe; he has a basketball match on the weekend which means you two should practise shooting hoops together.

and when you’re not physically spending time together, johnny likes to facetime you just so that he can ‘see your pretty face’. the frequency with which he compliments you randomly throughout the call is almost on par with seonghwa, who always sweetly observes when you're wearing a new lip tint or different hairstyle.

johnny’s laugh, be it in person or over video call, never fails to make you laugh with him. it’s boisterous when he doubles over with laughter and his eyes disappear when he chuckles. you can’t help but see jongho’s own adorable giggles in him.

after several months of courting advances, johnny asks to make it official. you say yes, because you have fallen for him.

and so, like the dwindling campfire that had marked the end of summer, you snuff out the remains of the fire in your heart that has been burning for san, hongjoong and the six other boys, leaving the last of the embers to their fate. left alone, they will slowly die out, completely extinguishing the flames and leaving only ashen remnants behind…or the sparks will continue to fight unnoticed; until they rekindle and turn into an uncontainable inferno.

“with all due disrespect, his parents don’t fucking deserve to be parents,” wooyoung spits out.

yunho tucks the blotchy aftermath of mingi’s heartbreak a little tighter into the crook of his own neck, other hand softly tousling the ends of the younger’s hair. the boys have only just managed to settle mingi into one of the beds in their shared dorm rooms after he had shown up at the dance studio barely holding it together by his last thread.

“i don’t think any of us had high hopes for them, considering the things he’s told us about them over the last few years,” seonghwa sighs as he pulls the blanket over mingi’s shoulders.

“but for them to just fucking disown him like that? do they even realise how much it took for him to come clean about us?”

san gently pulls wooyoung away from the bed, lest he wake up the boy in question, and massages his clenched fist open. yeosang sidles up to the pair, “do you think we could go down to namhae a few days earlier this summer?”

“that actually might be possible,” san chews on his bottom lip and takes out his phone to text his parents. “it’ll be a nice surprise for y/n, too.”

“she’s in for a few surprises,” jongho comments before nudging the boy next to him. “hopefully you didn’t scare her off after what you did.”

hongjoong scratches the nape of his neck at the jab, “yeah, i hope i didn’t fuck things up for all of us.”

“you still haven’t talked it out with her?” san looks up from his phone.

hongjoong grimaces, “no, but how could i? she said to pretend that it didn’t happen.”

“and you just took her word for it? god, that’s literally the universal response anyone would automatically give in a situation that’s utterly and mortifyingly embarrassing,” wooyoung throws his arms up into the air. “i wouldn’t be surprised if she says no to us after all.”

“look, i’ll talk to her when we see her again. the semester’s nearly over, anyway.”

san nods, “my parents are fine with us going down a weekend earlier. and i agree with hongjoong on this one–it’s probably something they should talk about in person, not over the phone. let’s just hope we haven’t missed our timing with this.”

there’s only a few more weeks left until summer, minus one week now that they have decided to make the trip down to namhae earlier for mingi’s sake. and regardless of what your answer will be to the question that they’ll ask you– be it yes or no– it still won’t change the fact that everything will be okay once they get to namhae. because everything is okay as long as you are by their side.

there’s a man standing by your side, and it’s not one of them.

it’s strange to see you holding hands with someone that they don’t know. of course, it’s inevitable that you would have your own friends in namhae and from college, and of course it’s inevitable that you would have friends of both genders. but the way you have your fingers interlocked with his looks anything but platonic.

the boys are familiar with the way their own hands feel with yours nestled in theirs; from when you squeeze yourself between two of them and happily swing your intertwined hands back and forth; when a large wave threatens to topple you over and you instinctively reach for them for support; when you’re curled up against them and absentmindedly fiddling with their fingers whilst watching a cheesy summer romcom. but right now, their own hands feel unfamiliar– oddly empty and unable to make up its mind as to whether it wants to relax or tighten into a fist, even more so when you make eye contact with them standing outside san’s house and freeze.

you haven’t told the boys about johnny yet, only that you had news you wanted to tell them in person once they came for the summer. but now that they are here, standing right in front of you and your boyfriend, you suddenly feel a prick of guilt that you hadn’t given them a heads up of some kind.

you slip your hand out of johnny’s grasp under the guise of tidying your hair. if johnny notices, he doesn’t comment on it. instead, he asks, “you know them?” and settles his arm heavily over your shoulders. the action probably looks as territorial as it feels.

“yeah, they’re my closest friends,” you answer louder than you need to, because you feel like you have to defend them– or yourself. “san’s from namhae, too, and the others are from different provinces. they go to college together in seoul.”

“oh,” your boyfriend makes a noise, “it’s them.”

hongjoong feels awfully smug at that comment, because it means that you’ve talked about them before. he feels even more pleased when you slightly step out from under the man’s arm. but then your next words have his expression darkening again.

“i was going to officially introduce him to you guys on your first day…i just wasn’t expecting it to be today,” you gently place your hand on johnny’s forearm. “this is johnny, my boyfriend.”

immediately, the boys recognise his name– how could they forget, when the name has never once left their subconscious since the moment he was mentioned. a fleeting thought enters hongjoong’s mind. if he had not pulled away that night– if he had kissed you instead of being a coward– would it be him standing by your side as your boyfriend right now?

and hongjoong is not alone in his thoughts. wooyoung’s teeth grit together as he wonders how different things may have turned out if only the older or he himself had been bolder with their feelings. if only any of them had plucked up the courage to make the first move. because you dating any of them would automatically put their heart infinitely more at ease than the literal fucking stranger who is standing by your side.

you’re about to tell your boyfriend the names of the eight boys in front of you when he raises an eyebrow at you, “you didn’t tell me your friends were all guys.” his tone isn’t accusatory, per se, but it’s definitely not cordial, either. this side of johnny is completely new to you.

seeing the flustered look on your face irks wooyoung in every way possible so he interrupts, “and why does it matter to you?”

johnny levels him with a look for several seconds before smiling placatingly. “you’ll understand when you get a girlfriend,” he dismisses.

immediately, there’s a palpable spike in tension. “sorry?” wooyoung scoffs.

san sets a firm hand on the back of wooyoung’s neck and you lowly murmur your boyfriend’s name– respectively scruffing the two men. you didn’t know what to expect introducing your friends and boyfriend to each other. but the start of what looks like it has the potential to turn into a fight was definitely not on the list.

in a lame attempt to change the topic, you comment, “you guys are here early this year.”

there’s a beat of silence that’s a split second longer than you deem comfortable and yunho clears his throat, “yeah…things ended up this way.”

the vague comment and pointed look in your boyfriend’s direction tells you that there’s more to it than they are letting you onto right now. you make a mental note to talk to them once johnny leaves…if he ends up leaving. but the heavy weight that is still draped around your shoulder shows no intention of removing itself.

even though your instinct is to run up to the boys and receive all the hugs you have missed, and their instinct is to pull you away from the unfamiliar man and back into the intimacy of their group, the arm around you is a stark reminder to everyone that you’re not single anymore– that there are now boundaries to respect. instead, your friends are left to shuffle awkwardly on the spot with wavering gazes as if they have caught you doing something they weren’t supposed to see.

“do you have classes today?” san dares to ask.

“not today. we were just…out,” you reply. on a date, it goes unsaid.

“well, we’re headed for the beach,” san hates the fact that he even has to ask his next sentence, “do you want to join us?”

looking at johnny, you hate the fact that your immediate answer isn’t to say yes. he glances at you and then answers on your behalf, “we’ll join. it’ll be nice for us to get to know each other, since it seems like we’ll be seeing each other often this summer.”

“not if you don’t show up,” wooyoung mutters under his breath, but he’s not really trying to be quiet about his disdain.

you fake a smile and push your boyfriend towards the entrance to your house. “we’ll get changed and then meet you guys down at the beach.” you don’t wait for an answer before shoving the front door open and shut again in quick succession behind you.

“wait here,” you tell johnny, “i’ll get you a spare pair of shorts,” then you disappear into your bedroom and let out a deep exhale, closing your eyes to clear your head.

you had spent the last few years embracing the changes in your relationship with san. every summer marked a change in your friendship group– a new chapter each year as you rewrote the group dynamics with additional people to love and be loved by.

this summer, like the others, also marks a change and beginning of a new chapter, but now you’re realising that not all chapters in a story will always be happy. instead, some chapters will mark the beginning of the complication.

it feels like an unusual mix between deja vu and an out-of-body experience as san straps the leash of his surfboard around his ankle. his gaze follows your form and he watches silently when you’re picked by the waist and tossed into the ocean. it looks all too familiar– except instead of him being the one who brings the laughter out of your squeals, it’s that annoyingly tall and irritatingly jacked dude that is your boyfriend.

san can’t help the sigh that escapes his lips as he peels his eyes away. if johnny makes you happy, then objectively, san wants nothing more for you. but he cannot help but feel that you are undeserving of anything less than the entire world; something he and his boys are willing to give to you. but life is all about timing and it seems like they’ve missed theirs.

he’s distracted by the sight of you and johnny in his peripheral vision, even as he paddles out into the deeper waters with yunho. the taller is uncharacteristically quiet, his eyes repeatedly flickering back and forth between you and mingi. mingi needed this trip more than any of them combined, but there’s an uneasy feeling in the pit of yunho’s stomach that’s telling him the appearance of your boyfriend is only just the beginning of a rocky summer.

regardless of their combined years of surfing experience, both yunho and san seem to continuously lose their balance on their boards today. and despite the saltiness of the sea water that flows into san’s mouth each time he falls– no longer the graceful choreographer of the sea– there’s a bitter taste on his tongue that he cannot get rid of no matter how many bottles of water he drinks over the rest of the day.

it follows him even when the sweet fragrance of fresh pastries and syrupy drinks permeates the air the moment he walks into the bakery you so adore after your group walks from the beach. san pulls the glass door open for you, wind chime tinkling softly overhead, and he has to resist the urge to let go of the door handle when your boyfriend also walks through without so much as a word or glance of gratitude.

before san walks up to the counter, he instinctively turns around to check your order before he adds it to his own like he has always done. “strawberry dacquoise and grapefruit ade?”

you’re about to nod when johnny steps into place beside you and asserts, “she likes the chocolate ones.”

san keeps his voice as even as he can and refutes, “no, y/n prefers the strawberry ones. i would know, considering we’ve been going to this cafe together since we were twelve.” he emphasises the last word, clearly telling the other that he is the one who has known you since you were young and therefore knows you the best out of anyone, boyfriend be damned.

not backing down, johnny turns to ask, “is that true, babe?”

you swallow uncomfortably, mouth suddenly dry. “i like both,” you evade.

but your lack of denial says more than enough and johnny’s frown deepens almost immediately. at his expression, you rush to amend, “i know you like the chocolate ones more. it makes me happy sharing them with you.”

“you should’ve told me,” johnny fusses. but opposed to disappointment at not having known your preference for strawberry, he seems more displeased at having discovered this fact through your male friend.

san notices how apologetic you start to feel and he absolutely despises how unfamiliar it looks on your face. if this is the type of boyfriend that he is giving you up to, then san is not prepared to let go of you at all.

“or maybe you should’ve noticed,” he shrugs nonchalantly in your boyfriend’s direction before smiling tenderly at you. “i’ll order your food. go find a seat with seong–”

johnny’s voice is heated when he interjects, “no, you won’t. i’ll pay for my girlfriend’s food.”

you’ve never heard him talk with this tone before, much less seen him act this way, but his words suddenly strike you with clarity and reasoning. with a relationship comes adherence to mutual boundaries and expectations, and although san is used to doting on you, the reality now is that johnny currently fulfills that role as your boyfriend.

“it’s alright, san. thank you,” you give your friend a soft smile. “johnny’s got it for me.”

san nods, defeated. your boyfriend gently nudges you in the direction of the tables, “go sit down. i’ll bring our order over when it’s ready.”

on edge, you walk to where some of the boys are already seated and slide in beside seonghwa, who has been watching the entire exchange silently. “y/n,” he starts.

you plaster on a smile, “it’s okay.”

seonghwa studies you carefully for a moment, then appears to make up his mind about something and returns your smile. except anybody can see that it doesn’t reach his eyes. “do you want to swap seats with me? that way you and johnny can sit on the same side.”

grateful for his thoughtfulness, you change seats and sit on his left just as wooyoung joins the table with an iced americano in his hand. he sets it down to drag a spare chair beside him, offhandedly commenting, “why are you even dating him? i don’t get what you see in him.”

he hisses when seonghwa kicks his shin from under the table, shaking his head, and you just give the younger a tight-lipped smile in response. you’re distracted by the buzz of your phone in your pocket. a quick glance downwards tells you that it’s a text from san.

sorry for putting you between your bf and i

you look up in surprise and find that he’s already gazing at you from where he’s waiting at the counter. his eyebrows knit together in apology and you shake your head, mouthing that it’s okay. san has always been the bigger person in any situation– with you, with friends and family, and even with people he doesn’t necessarily see eye to eye with.

your phone buzzes again, twice in succession, but this time the notifications aren’t from him. it’s johnny.

what’s his problem, god wants to get into your pants or sth

your boyfriend continues to tap away at his phone, expression marred with poorly concealed irritation. but he doesn’t seem to be referring to your texting exchange with san– you don’t think he’s even noticed. instead, he’s still hooked on the ordering incident.

slipping the phone back into your pocket and pretending you have not noticed the messages yet, you simply wait for johnny to grab the tray with your pastries and drinks before he slides into the chair next to you. and for the first time since dating, you find yourself comparing your boyfriend not to san, but against him.

it feels like you have spent the last two months treading carefully on eggshells. there are days you spend with both johnny and the boys and it becomes clear to everyone pretty quickly that they’re not warming up to each other. despite your best efforts to bring them closer, there is unmistakable tension that underlies every interaction that they have and don’t have with one another.

then there are the days you spend with just your boyfriend. he doesn’t mention your friends and neither do you, but you notice the way his gaze flickers to your phone whenever it lights up with a notification. like a mutual taboo, he simply continues the conversation after a pause and you don’t point it out.

and then there are the rarer days that you spend with just the eight of your friends, like today– the ones that feel like the old summers that you have started to yearn. and yet, even with the familiar essence of the past, you start to notice them. the subtle differences.

it’s not obvious at first. the casual displays of affection that have extended beyond habitual touches and have just become who they are are still there. but there’s something about the attentiveness with which seonghwa dusts the powdered sugar off of yeosang’s cheeks when he’s eating. or in the naturalness with which wooyoung moulds himself into san’s side when they sit on the couch. something in the way mingi’s entire body relaxes whenever yunho gently thumbs the nape of his neck, and in the softening of hongjoong’s eyes when jongho speaks up in conversation.

maybe it’s because you find yourself no longer a part of their shared love, regardless of how platonic it may be between you and the boys. ultimately, it’s easier to notice things when you’re watching on as what feels like an outsider. and it makes sense that the dynamics of your friendship would change, considering how deeply embedded physical affection is within your group and the fact that you now have a boyfriend, but there’s something more to their interactions– you’re sure of it. you just can’t put your finger on what exactly.

it’s that thought that reminds you of yunho’s words when he and the rest of your friends had turned up a week before the start of summer. “what did you mean about things having ended up this way when you guys came down to namhae early?” you suddenly ask, eyes looking away from the television screen where the round of their game has just ended. “and wasn’t there something else you guys had wanted to tell me about?”

clearly not having expected your questions, yunho blinks as he formulates a response, “yeah, there is. just–maybe talk to mingi first. you’ll probably want to hear it directly from him.”

and hongjoong needs to talk to you first, too, yunho thinks to himself. except, he wonders whether there is even a point to it anymore.

your heart sinks at yunho’s words because you have a feeling it has to do with mingi’s parents. and his parents are never good news. right at that moment, mingi emerges through the doorway after his shower, a towel draped over his shoulders as he uses its ends to roughly dry his hair. he stops in his tracks when he notices you and yunho staring at him.

“i know i’m hot but you don’t have to make it that obvious,” he jokes.

you snort and shake your head, getting up to your feet and walking over to him as yunho watches knowingly. “come sit outside with me for a bit?” you ask mingi.

he agrees, pulling the towel off and tossing it onto the back of a chair to dry. you catch a whiff of san’s shampoo when he moves, the fragrance of cedarwood and bergamot that all the boys end up being scented with each summer filling your nose.

the two of you sit on the embankment just outside san’s house, legs dangling off the edge of the port. you can just barely toe the start of the sand but mingi easily shuffles his feet in it, drawing lazy patterns in your company. after a few minutes of peaceful silence, he nudges you gently albeit playfully, “did you want to ask me something?”

you chuckle at having been exposed and nudge him back in response. he never budges, torso bigger and more muscular than you can move, but it doesn’t stop you from trying and him from laughing endearingly.

“i asked yunho why you guys came down earlier this summer and he said to ask you,” you peer at him, treading carefully with your next words, “is everything okay?”

he takes a breath, exhaling long and slow. “i came out to my parents,” he reveals. “told them i’m bi and…they didn’t take it well.”

mingi doesn’t need to elaborate for you to understand that his parents didn’t just ‘not take it well’. you can only imagine the hell that broke loose. “oh, mingi,” you sigh, eyebrows knitting together with hurt.

“i also told them that i’m dati–”

the sound of the door opening and the call of your name stops mingi from finishing his sentence. it’s yunho with a ringing phone in his hand. “you might want to take this call,” he alerts you.

frowning, you make a stand to reach for your phone, asking, “who is it?”

he glances down awkwardly at the screen that is still on. “your boyfriend.”

you’re just about to slide the answer button when the call disconnects and you see that including the one that has just ended, you have four missed calls.

“oh, shit,” you can’t help the curse that slips out of your mouth. four missed calls is never a good sign from anybody, much less your boyfriend, who has also sent you several texts asking where you are.

seeing the darkening of your expression, yunho misses the girl whose biggest worry was the number of ice cream scoops to scam hongjoong out of. he misses the girl whose smile was brighter than the reflected sun on san’s surfboard. most of all, yunho misses the girl he has fallen in love with.

“y/n, i’m going to be honest with you,” he hesitates slightly. “i don’t think he’s the right one for you.”

you know that yunho’s looking out for you and his heart is in the right place, but it’s not what you want to– or need to hear right now. and perhaps, there’s an inkling of you that already knows. still, you try to keep your voice even when you reply, “i’d know if he’s not.”

you turn to mingi next and shoot him an apologetic look, “i’m sorry but i should probably call him back. we’ll talk later, yeah?”

mingi doesn’t know when later will be and neither do you. but he simply nods and lets you go, watching dejectedly as your form disappears back into your house at the same time san steps out of his. he had been carefully observing from the window the moment yunho had walked out with your incessantly ringing phone in his hand.

“guess he takes priority over us now,” mingi sighs.

san looks at him bittersweetly, “that’s what happens when you find somebody you love. like johnny is her priority, you are my priority and yunho’s. in fact, you’re the priority of five other people as well.” despite the fact that he is shorter, san still reaches up to flick mingi’s nose affectionately as he fondly states, “aren’t you lucky.”

mingi scrunches his nose in retaliation and san diverts the topic, “now come on, are you going to just stand back and let yunho win the game again?”

the younger grins, light returning to his eyes as he cheekily suggests, “you distract him while i cheat?”

“i’m right here,” yunho protests, but he’s shaking his head dotingly. together, he and mingi make their way back into the house, hands finding each other as they pass through the threshold.

san lingers behind and stares at the closed door of your house. for the longest time, you have been one of san’s priorities, if not the priority. over the last few years, the number of his priorities have steadily grown and you now share the top of the list in his heart with seven other boys. your happiness is san’s priority, as is the happiness of the others.

but what happens when interests start to conflict and your boyfriend– and by association, you– becomes a reason for unhappiness amongst the people he cares so dearly for? what happens if there comes a day where he must choose between his priorities and push somebody down the list, or worse…completely out of his heart?

you’re just as troubled when, half an hour after his missed calls and your subsequent response asking to meet up, you and johnny aimlessly wander the streets of the neighbourhood. the air is tense and despite the cry of cicadas, the silence from the lack of conversation is the only sound that you can hear. you can tell that he’s displeased by the fact that you had been with your friends, but you’re not exactly happy with him right now either.

you know an argument’s brewing– one that has been long coming, perhaps since the start of summer. you could have chosen to take the night to cool down, but it will eventually boil over one day, be it him or yourself. better to address it now than wait until it’s too late, and perhaps you can salvage it before it does boil over.

“why did you call me so many times?”

johnny knows you’re not only asking about tonight, and definitely not only about his phone calls. and yet, your tone is not accusatory, only genuinely curious and open to understanding his reasoning and emotions. solely because he feels guilt starting to prick his insides at your question does he make an attempt to reign in his childish jealousy that has reared its head so many times in the last two months.

“i didn’t know where you were,” he halfheartedly answers. “i thought something had happened.”

you both know it’s a lie– a pretty bad one at that. you had texted him just mere hours ago telling him that you would be at san’s. at his excuse, you raise an eyebrow.

“i don’t like the way they look at you,” johnny finally admits, partially showing his true colours. “especially san.”

you had guessed just as much and you can see why he might feel that way, but you want him to see where you’re coming from, too. “we grew up together, johnny. we’re each other’s best friend and he doesn’t like me like that.”

warm breath ghosting over your lips and then disappearing just as fast flits across your memory. “none of them do,” you emphasise. “and i’ve been transparent about hanging out with them when you’re not there, haven’t i? i literally texted you a few hours ago.”

he hesitates, “i was busy playing basketball with my friends. i missed your text and then you didn’t reply or answer my calls…” the way his voice drops off the more he talks is a good indicator that he knows the patheticness of his justification.

“and i was busy with my friends, too,” you reason. “you’re not glued to your phone, and neither am i.”

you continue when he stays silent, “you’re my boyfriend and i understand that it can make you feel uneasy when i hang out with so many guys, but you have to understand that they’re my friends, and my closest ones too. i would appreciate it if you give me more space when i’m with them, but i’ll also try to make sure i’m reachable on my phone so you have a piece of mind.”

you look at him and search his eyes for any indicators that he has more to say. from the way his jaw clenches subtly, you know that he’s disgruntled at best. but to your surprise he does not protest, instead nodding and walking you back to your house. you can’t tell whether the silence this time is slightly better or just as suffocating.

when you reach your front door, the lights are still on in the neighbouring house and you can hear the muted ruckus of laughter. as you unlock your door and pull it open, your boyfriend surprises you once more by calling out, “i love you.”

you learn a lot about a person simply from the things that they say, and sometimes–

“i know,” you reply gently, before shutting the door.

–you learn even more about a person simply from the things that they don’t say.

it’s two weeks after your conversation with johnny when he runs into some of the boys at one of the beachside cafes without your presence.

with autumn just around the corner, you’re spending the day transitioning the rice seedlings, now almost at the height of your thighs, from the wet paddies to the drier fields since your parents aren’t in namhae to do it. only mingi, yunho and jongho are helping you out; you had discovered the hard way last summer that letting all eight of them help you was, in fact, counterproductive when there were more plants being trampled on than safely moved.

and so while the four of you are working in the rice paddy, the remaining boys sit on the cafe terrace that overlooks the beach about a ten-minute drive from your and san’s houses. a hush suddenly falls over their conversation, elbows inconspicuously nudging one another and shoulders tensing when they spot your boyfriend making his way towards the cafe with a small group of his own friends.

a smirk graces johnny’s lips when his gaze falls upon the five of your friends, ignoring the courteous nod of acknowledgement that seonghwa attempts to make on their behalf and instead walking closer onto the cafe’s terrace. it’s not clearly audible, but it’s definitely direct enough for the boys to make out the words when johnny walks past and mutters, “fuckin’ pussies.”

wooyoung immediately reacts. “what the fuck did you just say?” he growls threateningly as seonghwa squeezes his thigh in anticipation of him standing up.

johnny pauses to look at them with faux innocence, “i wasn’t talking to you guys, but i guess if you’re offended–”

it’s hongjoong who rises to his feet first, chair screeching as it slides out from under his knees along the wooden deck. “you say one more fucking word,” he starts, eyes thunderous and fists turning white at his sides.

“and you’ll what,” johnny sneers, “run to my girlfriend crying? ask her to have a little talk with me?”

at the mention of you, both san and wooyoung join hongjoong on their feet. “watch what you say,” san looks at him dangerously. “don’t bring y/n into this.”

the commotion is starting to attract the attention of the staff and other customers in the cafe. seonghwa slowly stands, preparing to step in before it can escalate into something physical as yeosang grips the seat of his chair.

johnny steps closer and scoffs, “that’s bullshit. you guys can’t even take care of your own feelings so you have to hide behind my girlfriend like a bunch of pathetic losers. it makes no fucking sense for her to ask me to leave her alone when she’s with you guys.”

“and i bet it’s never fucking crossed your mind that maybe it’s an issue with something you’re doing–not us,” wooyoung reciprocates with his own bold step closer.

he’s suddenly jerked forward when johnny fists the front of his shirt and instantly everyone moves in towards the two. seonghwa wedges his arms against their chests to prevent wooyoung from getting dragged further forward, though the younger is fiercely standing his ground, teeth bared and eyes murderous. save for yeosang, who comes to stand protectively behind him, the remaining two boys are swept up into the beginnings of a scuffle as johnny’s friends step in as well.

“look at you, all riled up,” johnny goads, ignoring the hands that are trying to keep him subdued. “and she tells me that you don’t all want to fuck her?”

seonghwa inhales sharply as he attempts to overpower both wooyoung and hongjoong, who is now extremely determined to connect his fist with your boyfriend’s face. but to many of their infuriation, the fist doesn’t get a chance to hit its well-deserved target when there’s a firm shout over the commotion.

the cafe manager harshly warns, “we’re going to have to ask you all to leave the premises, otherwise we’re going to call the police.”

“wooyoung! hongjoong!” seonghwa hisses. “it’s not worth the trouble. stop!”

there are a few tense seconds of heaving chests and grinding jaws before johnny lets wooyoung go with a shove and hongjoong begrudgingly and slowly lowers his raised fist.

“you bitches got lucky this time,” johnny glowers. he beckons to his friends with a jerk of his head, still glaring at wooyoung, then kicks a chair out of his way as he leaves the cafe. in the wake of the confrontation, seonghwa turns to look at the manager and creases his eyebrows in apology, bowing multiple times to the other employees and customers too.

the manager nods wryly, “you and your friends are still going to have to leave.”

“we understand,” seonghwa replies, beginning to usher hongjoong and wooyoung towards the exit. “we’re truly sorry.”

as the five of them walk out, his eyes dart around anxiously in case your boyfriend and his friends are still lingering around. muscles taut and on edge, seonghwa makes a decision as the oldest. “let’s go home,” he declares, “we can wait there.”

they pile into the jeep wordlessly and san turns on the ignition, pulling out of the small car park and heading back to his. they’re only a few minutes away when wooyoung breaks the silence, “so who’s gonna tell y/n that her boyfriend’s a fucking asshole and that she needs to break up with his sorry ass?” he fumes. “because if no one’s going to do it, then i’m going to tell her the moment we get home.”

“wooyoung,” seonghwa starts.

“no, don’t wooyoung me,” he snaps. “he’s a fucking pretentious dickhead and she needs to know that. i don’t even care if we don’t ever get to talk about that other thing with her anymore. all i care is that he never gets to show his face in front of her ever again.”

seonghwa rubs his temples in frustration. he argues, “look, i agree with you and i’m not saying we shouldn’t tell y/n. but we need to put our feelings aside and think about this rationally, otherwise we could end up hurting her.”

“i think she’s going to get hurt regardless of how we approach it,” hongjoong snarks as the other levels him with a look.

“the campfire night is only a few days away,” yeosang points out. “maybe we should wait until that’s over…you know how excited she and mingi get about it each year.”

hongjoong protests, “and wait for her to bring johnny along on the day? sorry, but not even seonghwa is going to be able to stop me from sucker-punching him to the ground.”

“surely she’s not going to bring him. it’s a day just for us,” yeosang frowns.

san feels their questioning gazes settling on him and he glances in the rearview mirror to confirm his hunch. “i don’t know, probably not?” he answers whilst shrugging, turning into the small street that leads to your house. “but honestly? i think we should wait until after that day to talk to her. i don’t see the point in ruining it for any more of us.”

seonghwa agrees and adds on, “and only one of us should have the conversation with her. san, you’re probably the best person out of us.”

san hums in agreement, slowly braking the car to a stop before he turns in his seat to look at the rest of them. “i’ll find a time to talk to her and in the meantime,” he looks at wooyoung and hongjoong gently, knowing how frustrated they must be feeling, “we wait.”

there’s only a few more days until the campfire– they only need to hold out for a little longer until then. what could possibly go wrong?

“are you sure it’s a good idea to leave hongjoong and y/n to get the snacks together?”

seonghwa tenderly thumbs yeosang’s lips from out of his teeth, where he has been biting the corner of his lips in worry, and answers, “he’s hopeless at buying all the other things and she knows what snacks we like the best.” seonghwa knows hongjoong’s way of being confrontational is stark and direct, but he also has faith in the other that he won’t prematurely bring up your boyfriend and risk hurting you with the conversation.

you make your way down the snack aisles of the grocery store with hongjoong and it feels both familiar and foreign. there are no shopping cart races or invisible finish flags this time– only the two of you and the baskets in his hands as he carries whatever you pluck off the shelves. it’s been a while since you’ve had time alone with hongjoong; not since the incident last summer.

looking down at the shopping baskets, you put another packet of banana crisps in before commenting, “let’s get some sweet things and then that should be enough for the ten of us.”

hongjoong cocks his head, “haneul’s coming?”

“...no,” you look at him carefully, “johnny is.”

“johnny? you’re joking.”

you frown at the sudden coldness in his tone, “he’s my boyfriend, hongjoong.” johnny had been strangely adamant about going today and you had also noticed he seemed to be irritated about something. so quite frankly, you weren’t about to tell him no.

“and he’s also an asshole, you know that? why are you even dating him?”

you know your boyfriend and your friends still aren’t on amicable terms, but you’re honestly getting tired of feeling like you have to justify yourself and your dating life. and considering you have just had a talk with johnny to try and make things better for everyone, you can’t help but feel like you are being pushed into a corner yet again.

“asshole or not, at least he’s honest about his feelings for me,” you retort pointedly.

“oh?” hongjoong scoffs in disbelief, “is that what this is about?”

you challenge him with a glare, “what do you think i’m implying?”

“so i’m the bad guy now? i thought you liked me. since when did you stoop so low as to throw yourself at any guy who makes a move on you?”

your jaw drops. “you know what? what the fuck is your problem?” you shove his chest in anger. “let’s not forget that you were the one who tried to kiss me first and you were the one who also stopped. yeah, i did like you, but at least i’m willing to admit it.”

you step in closer, breathing heavy as you continue heatedly, “what about you? what the fuck have you done that makes you think you have any right to say that my decisions are wrong.”

hongjoong grits his teeth, “you’re making a mistake dating him.”

“yeah, you would know something about mistakes,” you throw back sarcastically. “but then again, you were probably happy to pretend it never happened and forget about it.”

“don’t fucking put words into my mouth,” he warns.

“it seems to be the only way i can get you to talk about us. you have no issues giving me shit about my relationship with my boyfriend, but when it comes to our relationship it’s radio silence for a year.”

hongjoong at least has the decency to look guilty when he declares, “i was going to talk to you about it face to face.”

“whatever, hongjoong. it’s too late,” you brush him off.

you snatch the baskets out his hands and walk away, no longer concerned over what snacks the boys will have for the campfire later tonight. you just want to get away from hongjoong, so you do exactly that. you leave him alone in the aisle to stare at the view of your back walking further away from him. life is all about timing and hongjoong has long missed his.

hours later, mingi scans the room from where he’s perched on a stool at the kitchen island in your house. everyone is either lounging around, preparing the meat and cutlery or setting up the grill and table outside– everyone except for one.

“where’s hongjoong?” he asks nobody in particular. he doesn’t think he’s seen the other since they’ve all come back from the grocery store.

“he’s resting in my room,” san answers. “said he wasn’t feeling too well but he’ll join us later.”

you roll your eyes at the knives you’re counting out, opting to keep your mouth shut. what san doesn’t say either, though, is that he knows something is off– hongjoong was completely fine this morning and you were definitely in higher spirits.

there’s an abrupt knock at your front door and you put the cutlery down, saying, “i’ll get it.” you know it’s probably johnny so you don’t bother squinting through the peephole before pulling the door open and blinking, “you look nice today.”

your boyfriend has styled his hair so that it slicks back from his forehead, parted down the right side of his scalp. he’s dressed in his usual smart casual fit but has chosen to pair it with accessories to accentuate his collarbones and wrists. he shrugs, “wanted to look good.”

you lead him to the open kitchen and immediately, you notice the shift in the air. a few of the boys give a tight-lipped smile in acknowledgement, but the expressions on wooyoung and san, and even yeosang and seonghwa go blank or two shades darker. hongjoong’s uncharacteristic cold feet suddenly makes a lot of sense to san now.

“you invited johnny?” san’s question is eerily monotone. a blunt knife may not be able to cut through rope, but with continuous abrasion and chafing, even the thickest of ropes will eventually sever.

your voice is not entirely friendly when you reply, “yes, san. i invited my boyfriend.”

“and why the fuck did you do that?”

san’s swearing has you reeling in surprise, but it’s quickly replaced by pent-up stress and anger that has been lingering for weeks and exacerbated by your argument with hongjoong mere hours ago. your entire body starts to heat up when san continues to criticise, “we’ve put up with him for long enough, don’t you think? it’s one thing for you to date him of all people, but it’s another thing to bring him to this.”

you laugh bitingly, no longer concerned about trying to deal with this maturely. all you can think about is how san is hurting you and how you want to hurt him back too. “so you can bring whoever the fuck you want each year, but i can’t bring my own boyfriend?” you retort.

the silence is deafening. nobody moves as they try to process the words that have just been thrown at them. yunho’s eyes are wide with confusion more than hurt at how quickly this argument has escalated, and he slowly raises his arms out in front of him, “okay, i think we all need to–”

“whoever the fuck–are we just ‘whoever’ to you?” wooyoung harshly interrupts. “we’ve been trying to look out for you and this is what we fucking get in return?”

you know that you won’t be able to take your words back after you say them, but they slip out anyway as you counter, “i didn’t ask any of you to look out for me.”

yunho’s arms fall limply to his sides and seonghwa looks away. wooyoung’s words are resigned and stony when he stares at you dead in the eye and says, “you know, y/n. we needed this trip this summer…more than anything. but thanks for ruining it for all of us.” then he brushes past your shoulder and slams the front door on his way out.

one by one, the boys follow him out of your house– first yeosang, then seonghwa, neither of them able to look you in the eye. when yunho and jongho hesitantly walk past you as well, they give you a small, apologetic wince. 

mingi still stands in the room. he has been quiet throughout the entire argument but his eyes tell a story of a million words. he’s filled with hurt and sorrow if not obvious by the wetness that starts to well in his eyes. “i guess you were just saying it when you told me i have a home here with you in namhae,” he chokes out.

your own eyes grow hot as you shake your head, “mingi, that’s not–”

but he leaves before you can say anything else. turning back towards the interior of your house– now looking far too spacious and vast without one of your friends occupying every available surface– you are left alone with just san and johnny. the heat of the fight is quickly slipping away, instead rushing all towards your eyes, and you call out san’s name. what for, you don’t know, but your cry is timid and desperate.

as much as it pains san to make a decision, mingi needs him– his boys need him, and they are his priority now. right there and then, san discovers for himself his final answer when it comes to choosing between love and friendship. he walks out of your house, turning his back on you.

you jolt awake feeling disorientated. your head feels clouded, eyes blurry from swelling and you’re still in the clothes from last night that you don’t recall falling asleep in. reaching for your phone, you wonder whether it has already ticked past noon for you to have woken up on your own, except you find that its dead. you roll over with a groan and plug your phone into its charger, then haul yourself upwards.

you rinse the stale taste out of your mouth before walking out to the living room and immediately, you’re hit with the memories and intense emotions of last night. there are packets of raw meat still unopened and bottles of soju still littering the table that you hadn’t tidied up. in the aftermath of the argument, you had told johnny to give you some space and to go home. you had then gone straight to your bedroom, covering yourself with the blankets in an attempt to hide yourself from the world and cried out your sorrows until you exhausted yourself to sleep.

you let out a long and heavy sigh, soul still exhausted to the very core, so you turn back towards your bedroom. you’ll clean everything up when you’re feeling a little more confident to face the consequences of last night. sitting on the edge of your bed, you reach for your phone. there are a few texts from johnny that you scroll past when something else catches your eye.

it’s a text from jongho, timestamped for 1:17 am. you and the boys rarely have a reason to message each other individually, preferring to use the group chat since there are no secrets shared. although, you suppose, none of you will be using the group chat for a while…

you tap on jongho’s notification. instantly, your heart drops all the way to the bottom of your stomach and past it. you think your heart is down in the fucking ground, because–

hey, wasn’t sure if you’d want to know or not but i think we’re going back to seoul in the morning

the numbers in the corner of your phone tell you that it’s already eleven thirty, and that’s when you hear it– the noise that had woken you up earlier. the distinct slam of a car boot closing shut. you jolt up to your feet, panic coursing through your veins as blood rushes to your ears and drowns out all rational thoughts. you forgo any shoes and throw your front door open to run outside, uncaring of the grit that digs painfully into the soles of your feet.

a brief flash of relief flickers across jongho’s face at your appearance but you miss it in your frenzy to make sense of what you are seeing. all three of their cars are parked in a line, their surfboards already strapped and secured to the car hoods or in the bed of the ute. the last of their luggage and duffel bags are being loaded and san is locking his front door.

every summer, the boys wait until the last possible second to leave, to the point where you have to forcibly push them towards their cars with fond laughter. it’s only thursday today and summer doesn’t end for another three days, and yet–

“you guys are leaving?” you ask apprehensively.

nobody answers you immediately. the only sound that punctuates the silence is the forceful slam of a door as wooyoung enters the car. hongjoong accidentally makes eye contact with you and his eyes narrow before he opens the door to his ute and also disappears.

jongho clears his throat awkwardly, “yeah, we’re heading back early.”

“oh…” you’re at a loss for words, unsure of how to react to this situation. “drive safe.”

like a parallel of last night, the boys enter their respective cars one by one, jongho giving you a subtle wave. guilt stifles you for the things you have said to the boys and you’re also consumed by hurt from the things they have said to you. but you know for certain that you cannot just let this friendship fall through the cracks like this.

as san makes his way to his jeep, which is parked at the front of the line as the lead driver, you watch carefully for any sign that things are still salvageable for your friendship. a smile, a glance, a nod– anything. but he simply pulls his jeep door open like you are invisible.

you hesitantly ask him, “i’ll see you next summer?”

san is expressionless but he may as well be glaring at you when he replies, “don’t count on it,” and for the second time of your life, he turns his back on you.

as san buckles his seatbelt in, trying his goddamn hardest to pretend he doesn’t see the tears now beginning to fall from your eyes, he tells himself that you’ve made your decision and he’s made his. he has chosen his priorities and will give you up, and yet, still he hopes that one day you’ll realise you deserve better and break up with johnny. san hopes that you’ll come across somebody more than better, even if it cannot be him.

before yunho also gets into the jeep, he pauses in front of you. he fists the sides of his pants to stop himself from reaching out to wipe your tears away. instead, he consoles, “i think we all just need a little bit of time, yeah?”

you nod numbly at his words. you’re forced to take several steps back out of the way after yunho also shuts his door closed and the engines hum to life in succession. unable to do anything, you can only watch helplessly as san’s jeep starts to pull away and the other two cars also follow.

“they’re finally leaving, huh.”

there’s only one person who would have amusement laced into those words. refusing to turn around in your state, you exhale shakily, “not now, johnny.”

“you honestly need better friends. everyone has a stick up their ass in that group,” he comments.

“i said not now,” you warn again, blinking the rest of your tears away when you feel anger creeping up in its stead.

“i should’ve just punched them when i had the chance to.”

you whip around to face him and yell, absolutely appalled, “johnny!”

“what?” he scowls. “they were the ones who started it.”

you grow deathly still. “started what?” you interrogate, and when he doesn’t let up, you step in closer. “johnny?”

“look, i ran into some of them the other day. that little fucker–wooyoung? he was basically asking to be punched. he’s lucky i let him off the hook,” he sneers.

you’ve known wooyoung longer than you have known johnny and you honestly find your boyfriend’s recount hard to believe. yes, wooyoung is hot-headed and rash, but he never reacts unless he has been provoked. or in other cases, his loved ones have been provoked.

“don’t you fucking dare call my friends fuckers,” you growl. is this who your boyfriend truly is? is this the person who your friends have been able to see through all this time?

“are you fucking serious right now?” johnny spits in your face, “you’re defending them? you always take their fucking side even though i’m your boyfriend.”

you spit right back, “and you know what? that was my biggest mistake. i should have never made you my boyfriend.”

johnny’s expression drops entirely. “are you breaking up with me right now?”

“yes, i am.” you confirm. “we’re over.”

you turn on your heel and for once, you are glad that he has shown up at your house, because it means you are a mere ten feet away from shutting your now-ex out of your life. you fumble with the door, vision rapidly blurring, then walk through and close it behind you. slowly, you lean back against the door. with nothing grounding you anymore, the tears escape your eyes once more and you don’t bother trying to hold back your cries.

all too fast, everything has come to a full circle of hurt. johnny turned his back on your friends, your friends turned their backs on you, and you have now turned your back on johnny. your chest shudders and heaves at the realisation, wondering where it all went wrong.

you want to seek out one of the boys for comfort– seonghwa or san– but you only end up dropping to your hands and knees, head dizzy from how hard you begin to sob, when you realise that that’s no longer an option. you all need time apart, both yourself and the boys. you know. but it’s much easier for them because they are going back to seoul together as their group of eight. they still have each other to lean on for comfort, whereas you are left behind to nurse your own wounds by yourself.

in the quiet of your house with the end of summer approaching in namhae, for the first time since meeting san, you are truly alone. it no longer feels like the nine of you against the world and whatever it may bring. instead, it’s you against the world…and the eight of them.

haneul takes all but one look at you before she’s making herself comfortable on your couch, tugging a cushion into her lap and patting the space beside her with a commanding air of authority. her expression tells you that there’s no room for argument, so you sink into the couch next to her.

the bewilderment must be obvious on your face when she asks you to spill what happened with san, because she simply reveals, “san messaged the family chat when he arrived back in seoul. and we all know he would give up surfing before voluntarily leaving namhae early.”

you slouch in on yourself, “we fought.”

as surprising as it is to hear, since she’s never seen you and san argue before, haneul had an inkling that that was the case after her little brother’s vague reasons. she probes, “about what?”

you tell her about everything. how you started dating johnny, how the boys came early for the summer and how you tried to get them on friendly terms. how your friends were constantly telling you to break up with him and how your boyfriend was always unhappy about you spending time with them. you tell her about the near-kiss with hongjoong last summer and the confrontation you had with him this summer. the argument you had with all the boys and the break up with johnny. everything.

haneul’s quiet for a while as she tries to piece together your story and her own thoughts. “did they ever tell you why they were so against you dating him?” she finally questions.

you shake your head and she asks, “then did you try talking to them about it?”

you slowly shake your head again, slightly ashamed by your own answer. you had been so focused on finding fault in the different ways the boys could have expressed their disapproval regarding your boyfriend that you didn’t think of the multiple opportunities you had to work out why those opinions existed in the first place.

“what do you think of it all, then? obviously, you would have broken up with johnny for a reason–or did the criticism from the boys just become too much?

fiddling with the hem of your shirt, you look down at your lap. “he was a decent guy…up until summer and the boys came over. that’s when he started acting differently and,” you pause, trying to find a nicer phrase before giving up and settling on, “became an asshole.”

she nods, waiting as you elaborate, “he became more overbearing and possessive, especially when i was hanging out with them when he wasn’t present. and he was just always so pissed. he was dead serious about getting into a physical fight with wooyoung. and we both know that none of the boys would ever start a fight for no reason, much less a fistfight, so johnny had to be the instigator.”

the way that you are solely picking out the faults of your ex does not go unnoticed by haneul. “y/n,” she stares at you seriously. “are you upset about your break up, or your argument with the boys?”

her question stuns you because it’s quite obviously both, but she stops your reflexive response with the instruction, “think about it before you answer me.”

you close your mouth and look at your lap again to actually process your own thoughts and feelings. what are you thinking and feeling? johnny…you had sort of known already that he would not be a constant in your life for much longer. from the moment you had started comparing him against the other boys, it was already the beginning of the end.

but san and the others? they are and have been the sun to your solar system for years; your providers of vitality, warmth and summer who you cannot live without. there’s a constant, gravitational pull that keeps you all together, except the balance has now been thrown off entirely. you realise what the answer was all along and you quietly admit, “the argument.”

she places a hand over yours, comfortingly stroking your knuckles as she sympathises, “i think so too.”

promptly, you feel your eyes pricking with the sting of tears and in a moment of fragile vulnerability, you plead to haneul in a shaky voice, “what am i going to do without them?”

“come here,” she whispers.

she pulls you into her, your body immediately going slack in her embrace. you cling onto her like a lifeline, afraid that you are going to drown in your cries of anguish. you don’t know how long you stay buried in her chest grieving for the friendships you have lost, but your neck and back are sore with stiffness by the time you calm down. still, she doesn’t let go of you– not until you make the first move to pull away.

haneul continues to stroke your hair, soft shushing noises as she rocks you back and forth with her. when your shuddering breaths have resided and steadied out, she breaks the silence softly, “y/n, i think there’s more to your heartache and regret than just feeling like you’ve lost your closest friends.”

your throat is scratchy when you mumble, “what do you mean?”

“i can’t tell you because that’s something that you’re going to have to work out for yourself. but after you figure out your own feelings, talk to them. communication is the first step to solving any problem, and i think you’ve realised just how much miscommunication could have been avoided leading up to the argument.”

you know she’s right, but your chest shrivels up on itself in fear. “what if they don’t answer my messages or calls? what if they really don’t come back next summer?” what if they hate me forever?

haneul rests her cheek on the crown of her head, “if they take a step back, then why don’t you take two steps forward?”

her words slowly sink in and when they do, you inch out of her embrace. haneul cannot help the smile that adorns her own face in tandem with the one that starts to peek out along your lips. your face is still red and blotchy but there is now a ray of emerging hope as your voice trails off, “you mean…”

“yes, y/n,” haneul nods. you feel goosebumps spreading across your body when she affirms your thoughts.

“go to seoul and talk to them.”

summer passes and autumn comes. the days grow shorter as the nights become longer and the weeks blur into a haze of monochrome darkness. the leaves and flowers fall off the trees, nature gradually stagnating and waning into nonexistence, much like the groupchat you share with the boys that has remained untouched since summer.

in a feverish state of resolution the very same day you had cried in haneul’s arms, you had booked an express bus trip that would take you directly from namhae to seoul. yet, despite telling yourself every weekend that you’ll make the trip, the ticket remains unused. whenever you see your last message to san– a meek question asking if he had arrived back in seoul fine– that continues to stay unread, your courage crumples and you reschedule the date for the following weekend.

the cycle repeats itself well into autumn. that is, until he breaks it.

you’ve spent the last few days thinking about this very moment. there are only a few minutes left until midnight, which will mark the end of jongho’s birthday. you’re unable to count the number of times you have opened his chat, typed out a message, then exited without actually sending it.

currently, the text cursor in jongho’s chat blinks back at you like your own indecisiveness wavering back and forth between messaging him and not. the minute ticks over once more– it’s now or never. you let your thumbs skim across the surface of your phone before you can contemplate any further. it’s a simple message; only reading two lines.

happy birthday jongho how have you been?

really, you mean ‘how have you all been?’ because you cannot care about one of them without also caring about the others.

you lock the screen and toss your phone to the side, pretending you don’t care whether he replies or not, as if your phone is capable of sensing anxiousness and will sabotage his incoming messages– that is, if any come at all. but jongho’s last messages to you had been the ones alerting you that he and the boys would be leaving namhae prematurely. surely an indicator that this friendship isn’t entirely lost.

the lecture slides on your laptop may as well be written in a foreign language as you restlessly eye your phone, wondering if he has seen your messages. you know it will be fruitless to continue studying, so you steel yourself for disappointment and reach for your phone. to your surprise, there’s a reply waiting for you.

thanks y/n, i’ve been good

it’s simple and only five words, but that in itself speaks volumes to your relationship. your heart skips a beat when the messages in his chat shift upwards once more as a new text comes in like an afterthought.

i miss you

really, jongho means ‘we all miss you’ because you can be angry at someone, feel hurt by them, yet still love them all the same.

his confession stuns you frozen, your fingers hovering in place over your keyboard. it fills you with longing for more and hope for what may come, but also fear for what could happen. jongho has taken a small step to meet you halfway and you are absolutely terrified of messing things up once more. with your heart pounding in your chest, you carefully type out your next message, send it and then hold your breath.

can we call?

your fingers repetitively trace the rim of your phone case back and forth as you wait for a reply. there’s a rising swell of panic that continues to grow when nothing comes and you even exit and reopen the app. what you don’t know is that jongho almost trips onto his face in his hurry to untangle his legs from out of his blanket so that he can lock himself in the bathroom to call you without waking the others.

the phone nearly falls out of your grasp when the screen suddenly lights up not with a message but a call. you let it ring for a few seconds to gather your own composure before sliding the button to nervously answer, “hello?”

“hello?” comes jongho’s reply.

your voices overlap as you both simultaneously talk, “can you hear me–” “hi–yes, can you hear me?”

“yeah, i can hear you too, hi,” you breathe out, face breaking out into a smile.

the exchange has jongho letting out a giggle and the sound immediately releases all the tension that has built up in your body. your eyes start to mist over as you let out your own bashful laughter, because it is so much more than just missing the sound of jongho’s happiness. you’re reminded of crashing waves and windswept fringes; heavy surfboards and helping hands– the summer days when everything was happier and simpler. how did everything end up the way it has?

“thank you for replying to my message, jongho,” your voice is unsteady.

he must hear the way your throat threatens to close in on itself, because his voice is warm-hearted when he tells you, “no, thank you for reaching out first.” and as much as he finds it difficult to express himself, his next words spill out easily. “sorry i didn’t do it first…it must have been hard for you all this time.”

and just like that, so comes the first of many owed apologies. it doesn’t matter that you have to be awake in five hours to make it to your first lecture, nor that you don’t have a perfected script for all the things you want to apologise for. and it doesn’t matter that jongho is starting to feel cold sitting on the bathroom floor, nor that he can’t hold you like he wants to do. what does matter is that you’re both talking again.

as the night grows older, the conversation eventually flows away from raw confessions of your hearts to familiar topics of your mundane lives. it feels like the normal phone calls you used to have with the boys, except this time it’s only with jongho.

“what about you? have you been busy?”

you nod, even though he can’t see you over the call, “i’m trying to keep up with classes but it’s hard with all the assignments due soon.”

“yeah, i have another huge film project and it’s taking up all of my time, too,” he exhales, then tentatively asks, “what about…how’re things with johnny?”

it’s strangely exciting to clarify, “we actually broke up a few months ago.”

you can hear jongho’s sharp inhale even from over the phone. the conspiratorial tone of his voice painfully reminds you of wooyoung’s nosiness as jongho asks, “please tell me you broke up with him and not the other way round.”

“yes, i broke up with him,” you chuckle. “he talked shit about you guys the moment you all left, so i dumped him.”

“he deserved it,” he gleefully states.

“only i get to mess with my friends…literally.”

the joke is at the expense of yourself, but it feels uplifting to be able to start laughing about it now that you have started making amends, even if it is only with one person so far. knowing you have somebody on your side makes all the difference in the world.

“it’s actually sort of funny you say that,” jongho muses over the phone. “remember that truth or dare question? the one about choosing between love and friendship?”

you hum in affirmation, “san and i picked love.”

“and look at you, picking us over johnny,” he teases.

huffily, you banter, “picked you guys even though you all left me.”

there’s the tinkle of laughter from over the receiver, but it’s cut short by a faint knock. you hear jongho murmuring to somebody before his voice becomes audible again, “hey, sorry, i need to go now. someone needs to use the bathroom.”

you resist the urge to ask why he’s even there in the first place, but you just tell him that it’s okay, considering how late the time is anyway.

“i’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

“yeah, tomorrow,” you affirm. the wide smile on your face makes your cheeks ache as you grip the phone to your ear and wait for him to hang up. you hear the sound of rustling as he stands up and turns the doorknob, then there’s a voice in the background asking, “is that y/n?”

but before you can try to discern who the voice belongs to, the call ends. you don’t let the slight disappointment dampen your spirits though and you fall back to lie on top of your bed. jongho’s last words to you have made you feel like a giddy teenager– tomorrow feels too far away.

but his words before his last words also make you feel like a teenager. only it’s not giddiness but the uncertainty and confusion that comes with adolescence as you try to navigate and understand your own feelings about something. in the face of the situation, had you truly chosen friendship over love contrary to your own expectations?

it makes sense at first to think that’s what has happened, but you’re suddenly reminded of haneul’s words– that there is more to your heartache and regret than just feeling like you have lost your closest friends, and that you need to figure out your own feelings before talking to the boys. if you have stood by your own values and chosen love over friendship, then that means…the heartbreak that you feel is grief not for lost friendship, but loss of your first loves– because you are in love with all of them.

that spark of feelings that had remained for the boys had never become fully extinguished. when you agreed to date johnny, perhaps it was only because he had reminded you of them and you had mistaken the flutters in your stomach for romantic attraction to him. and so, left unattended, that very spark has now flourished into a wildfire that can no longer be controlled, neither can it be contained– it’s time for you to talk to them.

you pick up your phone again and send out a message, this time with no hesitation. it reads, ‘i need your help’.

and the reply is immediate.

anything you need

it’s the first day of winter when you arrive in seoul.

you get off the express bus at the terminal with both hands empty and only the bag on your back; you don’t plan on staying for long so you didn’t bring much with you. immediately, your breath fogs up in the frigid air and you nestle more snugly into the warmth of your coat. there’s a reasonable crowd of people at the terminal, so you crane your neck in search of jongho’s familiar tuft of brown hair, who had offered to pick you up knowing that this was your first time travelling up to seoul.

the last text he had sent told you that he had arrived and was waiting for you at terminal six. as you make your way closer, eyes squinting to discern whether you are seeing things correctly, you think you’re able to make out jongho’s side profile leaning against a brick wall.

except, he’s not alone. your footsteps start to falter because seonghwa is also there. ironically, he’s the one who spots you from afar. he pushes himself away from the wall and turns his body towards you as jongho questions whether he has spotted you.

ever since the night he had overheard the younger on a phone call with you, seonghwa has been aching to make things right with you again. he had been afraid that you would want nothing to do with them anymore and that you would slip away from their fingers just like that. but here you are in seoul, just a mere distance away from him.

seonghwa’s eyes start to water and your expression crumples almost immediately with his when he opens his arms with an offer of an embrace. his feet rush to close the distance when you throw yourself into his chest, the cashmere of his coat rubbing softly against your cheek.

“i’m sorry, hwa” you murmur.

“i know,” he whispers, stroking the back of your head, “me too.”

jongho silently watches with a small smile and allows you both to have your moment of reconciliation with each other. as you breathe in the comfortingly familiar scent of seonghwa’s cologne, you gesture for the other to come closer so that you can pull him into a group hug. and here, surrounded by both of them, despite there being several other things you want to say– poems of apologies and ballads of confessions– for now, this is more than enough.

seonghwa is the first to pull away suddenly as if he has been electrocuted. “hang on, are you and johnny still…” he trails off.

despite the snort of amusement that leaves you, you’re touched by his thoughtfulness to maintain respectful boundaries. “don’t worry, we broke up,” you reassure him, then you jokingly turn to jongho with an incredulous look. “you told him i was coming up to seoul, but didn’t tell him that johnny’s my ex now?”

he rolls his eyes good-naturedly, “that wasn’t in my place to reveal. plus, seonghwa was the one who looked over my shoulder and saw your text asking for my help.”

said man pretends to walk away innocently. you and jongho laugh, trailing after him towards the carpark as you ask, “what was he doing in your dorm anyway?”

“he crashed for the night. our dorm’s close to his workplace.”

when you reach their parked car, seonghwa tugs the passenger door open, but instead of hopping in he gestures for you to go first. you indulge in his chivalry with a chuckle, even more so when he places a hand along the top of the door frame in case you bump into it.

“thanks, hwa,” you say sweetly, shuffling in further when he scoots in after you and leaves jongho alone to sit at the front of the car.

“great, not even ten minutes of making up with each other and i’ve already become the third wheel,” jongho grumbles as he turns the ignition on.

despite the huffiness in his voice, jongho’s heart sings with happiness to see you and seonghwa already getting along like normal. he is willing to be the third wheel– even the ninth wheel– if it means that you and his boys can shine together every day. but for that to happen, it all rests on how the next hour unfolds.

“ready to go?” jongho asks, eyeing you from the rearview mirror.

are you? are you ready to talk to all of the boys at the same time? seonghwa gives your hand a gentle squeeze, and jongho nods at you reassuringly from the front; you’re not going into this alone anymore. you nod, “i’m ready.”

the drive takes less than thirty minutes and before you know it, you’re standing right outside the door to jongho’s shared dorm with wooyoung and hongjoong. jongho swipes and unlocks the door with his access card, however makes no move to push the door open. the fact that neither of the boys say anything to rush you spurs you on with enough determination to enter the dorm. the volume of their chatter increases immediately without the barrier of the door, and you take slow, hesitant steps along the short hallway towards the direction of the sound.

you appreciate when jongho takes the lead to subtly show you where to go but it still feels like you are intruding– which, you technically are, considering two out of three people who live here don’t know that you’re in the dorm right now. rounding the corner of the hallway, you discover that it leads straight to the living room where all of the boys currently are. so it’s fucking awkward when the sight of you emerging completely kills the conversation and a collective hush settles over the room.

you have to fight everything within you not to turn on your heel and just flee, because nothing has prepared you for their initial reaction. you hate the fact that you cannot tell whether the shocked expressions on yunho and yeosang’s faces are ones of delight or displeasure. you hate the way that wooyoung and hongjoong’s bodies tense and become guarded, ready to tell you to leave their dorm. but more than anything, you hate the way that san and mingi cannot even look at you.

“holy shit,” yunho whispers.

that’s enough to set off the others and hongjoong angrily questions, “what the fuck is she doing here?”

wooyoung looks at jongho, “is this why you told everyone to come over?”

you defend, “i was the one who asked jongho for help.”

“i wasn’t talking to you–”

you cut wooyoung off, contrary to your next words, “can you just shut the fuck up for once? i’m not here to start another fight. just–hear me out, please. i’ll leave as soon as i say what i need to.”

he glares at you and everybody holds their breath as they steel themselves for another full-blown argument. but wooyoung does as you ask and folds his arms angrily. nobody speaks, waiting for you to talk as you finally put your bag down and sit a safe distance away.

you close your eyes and take a breath to compose yourself. you refuse to let yourself cry this time. you’ve done plenty of that in the last few months and you have finally come to terms with your own feelings. “i…i’m sorry,” you start.

somebody scoffs, but you ignore it and let the words from your heart take over. “i’m sorry for being such an asshole over the summer–for letting my ex get in between us and for ignoring all the times you told me he wasn’t a good guy. i shouldn’t have assumed that you were all okay with me bringing him along whenever we hung out and i should have asked before inviting him to the campfire. that was something special for us and it was selfish of me to do that.

“in particular, i’m sorry for how that night went down. i know it doesn’t excuse what i did, but i had an argument with hongjoong earlier that day and i was feeling strung tight. i wish i had handled the situation better when i felt confronted about bringing johnny along, and i acknowledge that the words i said can’t be taken back, even if i didn’t mean them.”

nobody needs reminding of the words that you are referring to, because it has sat just as heavily in their hearts as it has your own. the sight of mingi ducking his head down even further has your heart clenching painfully.

even if he isn’t looking, you apologise to him directly, “mingi, i’m sorry we never got to finish our talk. i know that you were going through a hard time and that that trip was meant to be something healing for you–for all of you. namhae was meant to be an escape, but it probably didn’t feel that way…because of me. i mean it when i say you’ll always have a home in namhae and i hope that one day, you’ll be able to trust me on that. in fact, i hope that you all know that namhae is not the same without either one of you boys.”

you hesitate, because not even jongho knows about what you’re going to say next. you avert your gaze to focus on the carpet just in front of you so that you don’t have to see their expressions. “it’s taken this fight–almost losing all of you–and breaking up with my ex to realise just how stupid and blind i am to my own feelings. i always thought i would be happy with just being friends…but you are all so, so much more to me than just friends and ‘whoever’. i think i’m in love with all of you and i know it’s unconventional, but…i guess love has no limits.

“but i’m also going to be honest. i’m still hurt by the things some of you said or did. it hurt that some of you criticised my decisions without thinking about how that might have made me feel. and i know it wasn’t your intention to, but i felt like i was being backed into a corner multiple times when you kept repeating the same things over and over again about my ex without any real constructiveness to your words.

“i don’t expect you to apologise right now, nor accept my apology, and i don’t expect any of you to respond to my confession. i want you all to have enough time to work out your own feelings…if you want to. if you find it in your heart to forgive me and if you want to apologise, pursue friendship again or…maybe something more, then come to namhae and tell me in person.”

there’s half a year left until summer, and as much as things can change in six months, you also hope that this gives you and the boys time to work out what you all truly want from one another– be it friendship or love. nobody moves or says anything, trying to process everything you have said so you decide to leave them to it, having done your part. you make a move to stand and sling your bag onto your back.

“you’re leaving already? where are you going?” yeosang abruptly asks, standing as well.

“back to namhae,” you explain. “i booked a return ticket for the same day.”

san frowns and for the first time since you arrived, he looks at you. “you came all the way here…just to talk to us for half an hour?”

you give him a bittersweet smile, “that’s how important this is to me–how important you all are to me.”

he looks away, unable to hold your gaze. you turn to jongho to ask if he is still happy to drop you back off at the terminal, who nods and begins to pull on his puffer jacket.

“wait,” yeosang calls out. he skitters off down the corridor, socked feet pattering against the floor as he grabs something from his bedroom and hurries back in front of you. “here.”

he has a thick scarf that he holds out for you to take, but as you start to reach for it, he changes his mind. you hold your breath as yeosang carefully reaches over your head to drape the scarf around you. with tender hands, he wraps it around your neck before securing it with a knot. he continues to fiddle with the ends of the scarf and you’re starting to wonder why he is hesitating when he looks at you shyly and mumbles something under his breath. before you can make a noise of confusion, he darts off once again back into his room. seonghwa cannot help but smile fondly, because even if he is unable to hear what the other said either, he knows what yeosang means purely by his actions.

you’re accompanied out of the door by jongho minutes later, carrying a plastic bag of snacks and drinks from their dorm that seonghwa has rushed to put together for you to have on your way back. when you’re in the car, you also find a pair of black gloves in the pocket of your coat. you have no idea who put it there, but the sentiment of one of the boys trying to ensure you are not cold is enough to fill your entire body with warmth.

you may have arrived in seoul with both hands empty and only the bag on your back, but you leave seoul with their quiet acts of apologies and forgiveness on your hands, neck, and in the plastic bag sitting on your lap as your bus pulls away back to namhae.

a lot can change in six months, but a lot can also stay the same. it all balances on the peak of the fulcrum, waiting to teeter either way as summer arrives.

you’ve kept in touch with jongho and seonghwa, so you haven’t been left in the dark anxiously wondering whether they will be returning to namhae or not. but even with their arrival, the uncertainty remains as to which way the scale has– or will tip.

so you don’t walk out to greet them when you hear the resounding slam of shutting doors and the low hum of exchanged conversation, because you don't know whether the other boys want to see you or not. plus, there’s something embarrassing about seeing them for the first time after apologising, much less confessing to them without any certainty as to their feelings, and much much less to eight people at once. you’re doing a pretty good job at hiding and pretending you are completely oblivious to their arrival in namhae.

that is, until mingi knocks on your door. mingi feels like he’s fourteen again, knocking on yunho’s door and crossing his fingers hoping to god that it’s his friend who opens it and not his parents, because mingi feels embarrassed asking them every day if yunho can come out to play. this time, though, mingi’s nervous because it’s you and he’s nervous because six months is a long time where feelings can change. he hopes that yours are still the same.

you’re greeted by a shock of platinum white hair when you open your door and you realise it’s mingi with freshly bleached hair. it looks good– a little too good– and you have to force yourself to peel your eyes away. except your eyes travel down involuntarily to the contrasting black of his tank top, which is at least two sizes too large and dips down dangerously to reveal the shadows of his chest. you’re down bad, and it’s only been ten seconds since you’ve laid eyes on him since seoul.

mingi is looking at you amusedly when you finally lock eyes with him and he seems to stand a little straighter with confidence. he beckons with a gentle tilt of his head, “come surf with us?”

the casualness of his invite throws you off and you wonder if you’ve somehow missed the memo that he’s forgiven you. “you’re all okay with me coming?” you blink confusedly.

“the others can speak for themselves,” he puts it plainly, but then smiles, “i want you to come, though. it’s not the same without you. plus,” his voice mellows out earnestly, “someone’s gotta welcome me home, don’t you think?”

home. home is where the heart is, and for mingi, regardless of the arguments and fights, his heart will always be with the boys and you. because in anger, hurt and love, there is always forgiveness, and mingi has forgiven you.

shyly, you return his smile, “i’ll go get changed, then?”

“is that an invite inside?” mingi leans against the doorframe with faux coyness that manages to make the rounds of your cheeks heat up. you shove him back lightly with a laugh, trying to ignore the firmness of his chest under your touch.

he grins boyishly, utterly pleased with himself, but steps back so you can close the door. “take your time,” he reassures. “i’ll wait for you.”

and he does, just so that you don’t have to walk alone to join the rest of the group. even after you have thrown on a swimsuit and slathered yourself with sunscreen as best as you can, mingi is still outside and yunho has also joined him– you know because you can hear them talking as you search for your house keys in the hallway.

“what if it’s too late?” yunho asks.

“you don’t know that, not until you try,” mingi replies. “here, a kiss for good luck.”

you have no idea what the context for this conversation is, but it suddenly strikes you that apart from mingi, you’ve never discussed sexual orientation with the boys. you may have asked them to consider you romantically, but you can’t say for sure if they even like girls. from what you know, none of them have dated before, and now you’re suddenly wondering whether any of the boys are dating within the group. mingi and yunho are certainly a possibility.

but regardless, you realise this is probably not something you should be discovering by overhearing a conversation, so you deliberately drop your keys to alert them of your presence and wait a couple more seconds before you open your front door.

for the second time of the day, you’re absolutely floored. yunho has dyed his hair an ash grey and it falls over his forehead and down the nape of his neck in messy locks. there must have been a fucking enticing buy-one-get-one-free deal, because he’s also wearing a black tank top much like mingi’s, except his is form-fitting and putting every damned muscle of his upper body on glorified display.

not that you’re complaining. but it’s also very distracting when you’re trying to focus on what mingi is saying as you all make your way down the beach towards the shore, their surfboards hiked against their hips.

“you guys go ahead, i think jongho’s calling for me,” mingi suddenly announces before darting off.

you’re left alone with yunho, and from the back of jongho’s head who most definitely doesn’t even know you three have joined the group, mingi’s plan to slip away has succeeded.

“um,” yunho hesitantly starts, “do you want to try paddling out on my board? i’ll stay close.”

the last time you had attempted anything on his shortboard, you had flipped over and swallowed several mouthfuls of salt water. although you’re not particularly keen on repeating the experience, some things don’t need to be spelt out– the reason for his offer. only one foot is needed to push a bicycle into motion, but two feet are needed to keep it in motion. so you nod and let him drag his surfboard towards the shallow waters for you.

as you trail beside him, seonghwa and jongho greet you enthusiastically on their own boards out in the horizon. yeosang waves too from further down the shore and you lose some of the tension in your shoulders when you know that the intention behind his scarf was not misinterpreted. only san and wooyoung do not directly acknowledge your presence, but unbeknownst to you, the younger is carefully observing your interactions with the others.

“here,” yunho says, garnering your attention.

he holds the surfboard steady in the water, waiting for you to lie on top. his hands stay even after you gingerly shift and balance your weight onto your front. with his guidance, you slowly paddle out past the rush of whitewater waves. yunho is barely waist-deep in the water so he easily manoeuvres you and the board as you try to recall the familiar motion of paddling against incoming swells. but both of you know that you’re not really trying to paddle and he’s not really watching for mistakes.

eventually, you languidly let the waters caress your body as you still, letting the slight waves gently rock your surfboard. one of yunho’s arms have shifted over your back to support the opposite side of the surfboard and your body tingles whenever his forearm brushes over you. his other hand rests near your own, your fingers grazing together whenever the board dances over a swell.

it is within the serenity and solitude of the ocean, and the warmth and proximity of each other’s presence that the conversation happens. yunho apologises and you forgive. it occurs as simply as that, because actions speak louder than words and you have already shared a library of novels with your bodies.

from afar, wooyoung’s internal debate continues to teeter on its fulcrum as he watches the moment you share with yunho. wooyoung may be fast to talk, but he is also keen to observe. he sees the glow of relief and happiness returning to the faces of the boys. what he said to you summers ago still stands true– you make the boys happy and it’s obvious they make you happy too. and all wooyoung has ever wanted is to protect the smile of his loved ones, including you.

the radiance of the smile you give when yunho pretends to flip your surfboard over reminds wooyoung of his failure to do just that. in his blindness for the others, he had sacrificed your smile. the scale teeters over the fulcrum and he follows the momentum of his heart to wade out into the waters where you two still are, his apology ready to spill out.

and so you discover that a lot can change in six months, but a lot can also change in one day. with each relationship that stitches back together, rips now reinforced and sturdier than before, namhae almost feels the same again– summer almost feels the same again. you may still have the two hardest conversations left to be resolved, but if more time is what they need, then you are willing to wait for san and–

yunho and wooyoung scramble to steady your surfboard before you actually tip over when you suddenly move to kneel, head whipping around to confirm your fears. you hadn’t initially noticed as the boys had been scattered, intermittently ducking back into the house, but your heart sinks as you count the number of heads again. you’re unable to fight off the dread in your voice when you dare to ask, “where’s hongjoong?”

yunho’s eyes don’t meet yours and wooyoung’s mouth thins out tightly before he cautiously answers you, “he didn’t come.”

san likes to think that he’s patient. ever since he was young, his father had made sure to raise him to wait. wait for elders to eat before picking up his own chopsticks; wait for others to walk through the door before he enters; wait for others to choose their preference before he picks his. and san likes to think that he has diligently applied this principle to his relationships too. wait to understand someone before criticising; wait for his own anger to subside before talking; wait to reflect on his own wrongs before expecting an apology.

but right now, san is impatient. he catches glimpses of the sweet messages you send jongho and seonghwa and the joyous cackles you share with wooyoung when you prank yeosang. he notices the way yunho and mingi are attached to your hips, and san wants all of that and more. he wants to tell you he’s forgiven you and that he’s sorry too; he wants to cup your cheeks and thumb away the phantom tears he caused; he wants to love you.

but his body is acting as if it’s an entirely separate entity from his heart. he’s unable to approach you, even as he watches everyone else do what he wants to and it frustrates him to no end. and it’s as if the gods themselves also became impatient with his pathetic attempts– or lack thereof– because they drop the perfect opportunity right in front of him.

a quick look at his phone tells san that he’s been tossing on the couch for the last two hours. sleep fails to take over, so he hauls himself up and pads softly towards the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. he stares out of the window above the sink, where he can just see the stretch of beach towards the right. the moon shines brightly tonight and the rays decorate the sand and sea foam with dreamy tranquillity.

there’s a quiet rustle above the stillness of the night. when san turns around, his heart immediately clenches at the sight. you’re sleepily rubbing the bleariness out of your eye as you shuffle your way into the kitchen. there’s a stray tuft of hair that san wants to reach out and smooth down for you, but he opts to grip his glass of water tighter.

you startle, not having expected someone to be awake and most definitely not san. you had stayed over late into the night watching a movie marathon with the boys, and despite your protests, they had convinced you to crash in haneul’s room. tension doesn’t exist between you and the boys anymore, only awkwardness with san and…avoidance with hongjoong.

“couldn’t sleep?” you murmur, voice unguarded and still thick with sleep.

san shakes his head, “you?”

“got thirsty,” you explain, grabbing a glass from under the counter.

he hums at your answer and then it grows silent again. it’s only after you drowsily blink at him that he realises why you’re not making a move to get water– he’s still standing in front of the sink. san starts to step out of the way but thinks better of it. reaching out to grab your glass, he fills it up with water and then returns it to you.

“thanks, sannie.”

it doesn’t register in your head that the nickname has slipped out. for him, though, it echoes and ricochets in the very caverns of his ribcage. hesitantly, he mutters, “you’re welcome, pipsqueak.”

it tugs a smile out of your lips. “haven’t heard that in a while,” you muse. “kind of miss it.”

and i miss you. san is impatient, and he finally decides that he cannot take it anymore. “i’m sorry, y/n,” he whispers. “i know how badly i hurt you.”

the haze in your eyes immediately fades away at his words and he takes it as a good sign to continue. “i’ll be honest. i hated that the person next to you as your boyfriend wasn’t one of us–wasn’t me, because it didn’t look like he was making you happy at all. and that day you were out working in the field? some of us actually ran into johnny.”

you acknowledge sadly, “seonghwa told me what happened. i’m sorry he was like that.”

“that’s not on you to apologise,” san refutes. “i was the one who asked the boys to keep it from you until we could properly talk after the campfire night, but along with everything that had led up to that point, all my frustrations accumulated without even realising it.”

“i guess that makes the two of us, then. there were arguments you and i both weren’t aware of, and we ended up being the last straw for each other,” you chuckle wryly.

his voice wavers, “i’m meant to be the one person who is always there for you, but i made it feel like you were pitted against the eight of us instead and i’m so sorry for doing that. it should never have been me against you, nor us boys against you. it should have been all nine of us against the problem.”

you can’t help but take the opportunity to tease lightly, “are you calling my ex the problem?”

“exactly that,” he deadpans. “we all did.”

you nod, “thank you for trying to let me know, even when i didn’t listen.”

“no, i’m sorry we didn’t explain ourselves more clearly–or earlier.”

“but you have now, and i understand,” you reassure.

he nods gratefully before hesitating, “there’s something else behind all this that i can’t tell you yet, not without the others here. but when things are…okay with hongjoong again, that’s when we’ll tell you.”

something about his promise tells you that it has to do with the other part of the conversation everyone has been skirting around so far– your confession. faint memories of the interactions observed between the boys last summer and the brief exchange you overheard between yunho and mingi flicker across your mind.

perhaps you should steel yourself for rejection. you don’t dwell on it, though. this may have been the first time your friendship with san had been so close to shattering, but you know that it will take more than the entire universe to completely break you apart; you still trust him– because before it was the nine of you, it was you and san against the world.

“then are we okay now?” you ask, needing the confirmation.

“yeah,” he smiles breathlessly, “more than okay.”

the caverns of san’s dimples– the ones you love so much– shyly peek out to greet you in the faint glow of the moonlight coming in from the window. he reaches out silently and you understand immediately. you intertwine your fingers together.

san wants to ask you to go to bed with him. not to do anything sexual, but to simply hold you against his chest; trace the curve of your nose; wake up to your sleepy smile in the morning. but he can’t, not yet. not until you’ve worked things out with hongjoong, and not until you’ve had a talk together– all nine of you.

he settles for tugging you in the direction of haneul’s bedroom, hand never letting go of yours as he softly ushers, “let me tuck you back into bed.”

and so fifteen years after your first day of summer in namhae, you find that summer still takes the form of a sweet, dimpled boy who loves the sea and holding hands.

your instinctive reaction is to shut the door in hongjoong’s face.

when seonghwa had texted you asking you to open your front door, you had been expecting said man for obvious reasons. so when you pull the door open and see kim fucking hongjoong at your doorstep in fucking namhae instead, of course you slam the door shut. because why the fuck is he here?

“oh shit,” you curse, when it registers in your brain.

hongjoong is here and you’ve just shut the door in his face. if you had even an ounce of collectedness in you, you would realise that the boys’ initial and very much candid reaction of shock to seeing you randomly show up at their dorm in seoul is suddenly very relatable. you yank the door open again.

“sure, why don’t you just go ahead and punch me in the fucking face too,” hongjoong scowls.

immediately, you furrow your eyebrows, “well, if you’re offering…”

“oh, fuck off,” he raises his middle finger at you.

you raise both middle fingers in retaliation, “yeah, back into my house that you’re standing in front of.”

“for god’s sake–kim hongjoong!” seonghwa hisses in exasperation, head poking out of san’s door as he eavesdrops to make sure this exact thing doesn’t happen. “you’re here to apologise!”

hongjoong appears rightfully berated, then he looks at anything but you as he huffs, “can i come in?”

“depends,” you cross your arms defiantly. “are you going to try and kick me out?”

despite the prickliness of the conversation, it almost feels right in a sense. as if there’s no real heat behind your words and you two are back to the easy banter you used to have– before your near-kiss with him. this time, though, seonghwa hisses your name in frustration.

“geez! okay!” you fluster as you step back and open the door wider, letting hongjoong in and away from the prying ears of the older.

you sit tentatively on your couch and he mirrors you, scratching the back of his neck as he perches himself on the edge. it’s awkward and tense when it becomes apparent to the both of you that you’re alone. “i didn’t think you would come,” you break the silence.

he hums softly, “me neither.”

you don’t know how to respond so you don’t, allowing the quiet to settle over your living room once more. eventually, hongjong opens his mouth quietly, “i was–am ashamed of myself.”

you’ve been there before– on the other side of the conversation as the one doing the apologising. you know how difficult it is to be honest about your own emotions, particularly the negative ones, so you wait patiently for him to find the right words.

“i’ve been ashamed ever since the night i tried to kiss you. i was a coward and i did nothing to change it. i only ended up hurting you and i’ve regretted it every single day. i think about why i didn’t talk to you afterwards, why i said those things about you and your ex…why i didn’t just kiss you.”

you can’t help but inhale sharply at his confession, because that can only mean one thing.

hongjoong gathers the courage to look at you as he admits, “i did like you. i still do. but i was an idiot and thought that i was doing the best thing for everybody. i shouldn’t have made that choice for you nor tried to have a say in your love life. i was jealous and i know now how toxic i was being, which is why i was so stubborn about not coming to namhae because i didn’t think my apology would be good enough. so i’m sorry for all the things i said and did, but i’m also sorry that it took me this long to talk to you.”

he looks so uncharacteristically unsure of himself as he timidly asks, “will you forgive me?”

there’s not a moment of hesitation before you’re closing the gap between the two of you on the couch so that you can wrap your arms around him. and in a rare display of vulnerability, he tucks his face into the crook of your neck. you comfort, “i forgive you. there are a lot of things i’m ashamed of doing too. but we all make mistakes and that’s what helps us to grow.”

“you still like me?” he mumbles into your neck.

you laugh at the ticklish feeling, “very much so, hongjoong.” because in forgiveness there is love, and you have years of owed love to show the boys.

only when your sides become cramped and your necks become stiff do you finally pull away from each other. as you make eye contact with him though, you’re suddenly reminded of his confession. you know that you will need to have another talk with hongjoong about it, and you still don’t know where the other boys stand in terms of pursuing something romantic with you, but that will be for later. right now, you are content and at peace– the nine of you against the world once more.

“let’s go find the rest of the boys?” you ask.

he grins, holding a hand out to pull you up with him as he answers, “let’s go.”

just as hongjoong puts on his shoes by the doorway, he distractedly questions, “why are these here?”

you frown and follow his line of sight, settling on the top of the cabinet in your hallway where a pair of gloves sit– the ones you had discovered in your coat on your way back to namhae. “you know who they belong to?”

“yeah,” he nods, absentmindedly touching them before walking out the door. “i bought them last year, but they were too big so i gave them to san.”

it was san who hid them in your coat.

you numbly follow his steps outside where the boys have gathered in waiting and are sitting side by side on the embankment, facing the ocean. they are simply living in the moment, basking in the golden rays of sunlight and the warm touch of the person by their side– an arm around a waist; a head on a shoulder. you almost don’t want to disturb them, but you know the seven of them are not complete. not without hongjoong, and not without you.

and as your gaze meets san who smiles at the both of you, his chest swelling with relief, pride and love, you realise that san had bared his heart out to you long before you even knew.

once you fall back into routine with them, it starts to become obvious. the way the boys naturally gravitate towards one another with doting gazes and lingering touches; the casual use of a pet name or flirtatious joke; the shifts in dynamic you had noticed before that seem to extend beyond friendship. it starts to make sense when you realise that that’s exactly the reason– no longer are their relationships purely based on platonic love, but romantic love.

it’s why yunho knocks his forehead against mingi’s just to see him smile, and why san pretends to grumble when wooyoung kisses his cheeks, only to give the younger a proper kiss mere seconds later. it’s why jongho never lets yeosang carry his own surfboard even if he’s just as strong, and it’s why seonghwa and hongjoong like to disappear into the shower together.

but the longer you mull over these interactions for, the more you realise that they don’t seem to be simply ‘paired off’. you notice how jongho refuses to be cuddled but will nestle against seonghwa when he’s tired, and how yunho and yeosang seek out each other’s company before bedtime. you notice how wooyoung squeezes hongjoong’s ass underwater to make him yelp, and how san and mingi are content to just sit together on their surfboards on the sand.

rather than a question of who is with who, it becomes a question of who isn’t with who, and this time, you also find yourself mixed into the equation. but it confuses you whenever they treat you the same and you find yourself holding back despite your feelings, because it’s much harder to tell what kind of love they’re giving you when you yourself yearn for the intimate type.

san notices the change in your demeanour, as small as it may be, and decides it’s time for the talk. so here the nine of you sit on the beach that stretches in front of your houses. the sand is still warm from the sun even as it starts to dip towards the horizon of the sea. yeosang’s jacket lays over your bare legs and a slight breeze tugs delicately at your clothes.

“okay, so who’s telling her?” yunho elbows wooyoung as soon as the words leave the latter’s lips.

“what? how else are we meant to start the conversation?” wooyoung complains before mocking, “the reason i have gathered you all here today–”

rolling your eyes, you cut to the chase, “are you all dating each other?”

wooyoung chokes on his own words and everybody else looks at you with wide eyes.

“how’d you know?” yeosang startles.

seonghwa agrees, “i didn’t think we were that obvious,” but when you simply raise an eyebrow in response, he’s quick to amend, “okay, maybe we were.”

san eyes the others to see if anyone wants to step in and lead the conversation, but when nobody does, he speaks up to explain, “we’ve been dating each other for just over a year now–so before last summer. it took a bit of time to work everything out, establish boundaries and communicate what we wanted from one another, but we’re happy like this.”

“once our relationship had settled down a little, that’s when i came out to my parents,” mingi adds, “which didn’t go down well. we wanted to tell you last summer too, but…other things happened and it all fell through before we could talk about it.”

yeosang meekly scratches the back of his neck as he says, “it’s long overdue, but we’re telling you now.”

the chuckle that comes out of you is light and carefree. “i’m happy for you guys,” you affirm sincerely. “i don’t think there’s anybody else who is more perfect for you guys than each other.”

you truly do. you’re thankful that they have one another and you finally understand how hard it must’ve been for san during your argument to pick a side. his boys were and are his priority and you cannot fault him for putting them first. but then you’re reminded of hongjoong and his confession. are the others aware of his feelings?

said man has the audacity to frown at you in confusion. “why does it sound like you’re just wishing us well?”

“am i not allowed to do that as your friend?” you mirror his expression.

“god,” hongjoong exhales. “do you think we’re telling you this just to reject you?”

“of all people to say that–rub it in my face, why don’t you,” you grumble.

he starts to grasp the situation as he looks at the rest of the boys, “wait, did nobody fucking confess to her apart from me?”

the explosion of responses to his question is immediate.

“you confessed–” “–i thought we agreed to confess together–” “–trust you to cut in line! that’s not fair!”

your eyes dart wildly from side to side, unsure of who to focus on as they all start to passionately talk over one another. at one point, someone tries to chuck a handful of sand in hongjoong’s direction, but it scatters innocuously before it can even get close.

“hold the fuck up,” you yell over the commotion. “confess what?”

“how did you figure out that we’re in a polyamorous relationship but not that the feelings extend to you as well?” yeosang judges you.

“i didn’t want to project my own feelings and misconstrue anything. plus, none of you have actually mentioned liking or dating girls before, so i just…”

“assumed we didn’t have feelings for you,” seonghwa concludes as you laugh awkwardly.

wooyoung deadpans, “we may have wanted to punch your ex in the face for his shitty-ass personality because we were your friends, but we were also jealous as fuck.”

“all of you?” you ask in disbelief.

“all of us. some of us were just better at hiding it,” mingi looks pointedly at the boy sitting on his left.

“you’re one to talk about hiding your feelings,” hongjoong counters before turning to you to expose, “mingi wouldn’t shut up about you after he met you.”

mingi immediately shoves him backwards into the sand.

“look,” jongho cuts in, “what we’re trying to say is that we’ve all liked you for a while now, and if you still feel the same way about us, then we’d like to take our relationship with you to the next step.”

how many times have you wanted this moment– for all of them to return your confession. but now that it’s actually becoming a reality, it’s honestly a little daunting. “you’re all serious about this?”

a lot will change over the next year. most of you will join hongjoong and seonghwa as postgraduates and start full-time work. san will move back to namhae, but whether the others will follow or stay in seoul is unknown. there are a lot of uncertainties regarding the future and the relationship will only work if everyone is serious about making it work.

yunho answers on everyone’s behalf, “we’re very serious.”

you take a moment to look at all of them one by one, only to find the same promise within their gazes– that even if things become difficult, they want to face it with you by their side.

it feels right when san is the one to officially ask the question, “y/n, will you be our girlfriend?”

like san once said, it’s hard to find friends you love, but it’s even harder to find a friend you fall in love with, and you’ve been blessed with not only one, but eight of these people. between friendship and love, you already know from experience what you will decide– so you make your choice.

“i forgot, are hongjoong and wooyoung coming down this weekend?” san pokes his head in through the doorway.

you eye him from the mirror, face void of expression to reply, “don’t count on it.”

san’s pout is immediate and you laugh, shuffling over to console your boyfriend from where you had been getting ready in your shared bathroom. he grumbles, “you’re never going to let me hear the end of that, are you?” but he can’t hide the way his lips pull upwards the moment you press a chaste kiss against his cheek in apology.

“hongjoong said that there were a couple of delays with filming, so he and wooyoung can’t step away just yet. but they’ll come back next saturday if they can wrap things up by then.”

as you talk, san takes the halter straps out of your grasp so that he can help secure your top around your neck. “it’s so hard to align everyone’s schedules together. i miss the long holiday breaks we got in college,” you absently complain, body relaxing under the ministrations of san’s hands as he gently squeezes the nape of your neck.

“me too, love,” another voice joins the conversation. seonghwa walks up to tenderly ruffle san’s hair and nuzzles your temple with his nose. “but we have to work hard to pay off this house and to spoil you with whatever you want.”

seonghwa has grown out his hair and has kept it long since, and you love running your fingers through his silken waves before he goes to work every morning. he always looks so soft and cosy with his round glasses and fluffy sweaters that you know his school kids adore just as much as you do. but right now, his face bare of makeup and hair pulled back into a messy updo, wearing nothing but a pair of board shorts to show off his upper build, he looks the complete opposite of what you’re used to seeing and you feel your stomach doing flips in response.

you lean into both of their touches as you giggle, “we could have bought a smaller house. nobody sleeps in their own bedroom anyway.”

“well can you really blame us for being madly in love,” seonghwa grins, stealing a kiss from you that only serves to elicit more giggling.

“that’s true. your beds are always warmer than mine,” you agree.

“exactly. now come on, are you ready to go?”

the three of you walk downstairs to the living room, where the rest of the boys are waiting around in various mismatches of shirts, tank tops or only shorts. after two weeks of attempting to keep everybody’s clothes separate once you’d all moved in together, they had simply given up and made their wardrobes communal.

as you drop a spare bottle of sunscreen into your tote bag, a pair of arms snake themselves around your waist. you turn around, sweet smile ready to greet whoever it is. your jaw drops, “wooyoung?”

his eyes sparkle with mischief, even more so when your eyes grow even wider at the sight of hongjoong perched on the edge of the couch in the background and you exclaim, “hongjoong? i thought you two weren’t coming until next week?”

wooyoung takes the opportunity of your dazed compliance to pull you into a bone-crushing hug. “we caught up with the schedule,” he exclaims happily. “you should’ve seen hongjoong though. director kim made sure to work us hard.”

you playfully wriggle yourself out of the vice-like hug you’re in to bound over to the older, who automatically opens his arms to welcome you. you slot easily between his legs and his hands rub the sides of your back fondly as he looks up to ask, “did you miss me?”

forgoing an answer, you lean down to kiss him. wooyoung immediately complains, “why didn’t i get a kiss?” so san pulls him in for one to appease him. you’d never be able to leave the house otherwise, because then everyone would start demanding your kisses. and considering that it has been a few long months since you last had quality time with all eight of them at the same time, there would be too many wanted kisses to count.

one thing you had all agreed on prior to buying a house in namhae was to ensure it had a beach front, just like your and san’s old home. so it doesn’t take long to carry your surfboards– save for you; the boys like it when you use theirs– and towels down to the shore.

you close your eyes, inhaling the familiar scent of salt and subtle feeling of ocean spray on your skin. it’s a bittersweet emotion, knowing that it’s already the last day of summer, but only today have the nine of you been able to align your schedules this year. it makes you appreciate these fleeting moments of rest though, and you learn to find rest in each other too.

some of the boys start slipping off their tops, dropping them onto the sand to keep them dry as they surf. you’ve found that the greatest perk of dating them is that you’re allowed to openly and unashamedly ogle at them. the rigid shadows of their muscles reveal the discipline and hard work they put into maintaining their bodies despite their busy jobs.

san had also been monitoring his protein intake leading up to his recent dance showcase, so it’s very hard to look at the expanse of his broad chest and prominent dip of abs down his hips without feeling a rush of heat in your lower stomach. if the boys know that you offer to help them reapply sunscreen just to get a little handsy with them, then nobody says anything. (they offer to help you reapply your sunscreen as well.)

you’re content to just lie down on your towel and watch the boys, yeosang in his usual place by your side as he presses lazy kisses to your shoulder and traces the names of his lovers onto the skin of your stomach. mingi starts dragging his surfboard into the water, but when wooyoung attempts to push him in instead– and fails miserably– all thoughts of surfing are quickly forgotten. it becomes an absolute shitshow when hongjoong gets mistaken for the culprit and mingi picks him up. 

“it wasn’t me!” the older shrieks, but mingi has no ears for reasoning and prepares to drop him into the water. unwilling to go down by himself, hongjoong grips mingi’s neck at the last second and successfully drags him underwater with his weight. as wooyoung runs away absolutely delighted by the outcome, his trajectory unfortunately runs into jongho, who cuts off his cackles with a giggle, a simple shove sideways and a resultant splash.

not even bystanders can catch a break, and seonghwa screams for mercy as san and yunho suddenly grab his arms and legs. they sway him from side to side before letting him go with the momentum of the last swing to fling him into the ocean. everyone erupts into a united clamour of glee at the dunking of the eldest and you find yourself shaking your head at their unchanging antics.

you don’t think you can ever get tired of watching their radiant smiles of happiness and shared touches of sun-kissed skin, nor can you ever get tired of hearing their tinkling chimes of laughter and rowdy shouts of mischief. you may all grow older and there may not be as much time or luxury to simply bask in the joys of summer any longer; these golden hours that you are living in right now may forever remain as your sole memories when you reflect back on the essence of your youth.

on this day– the last day of summer in namhae– you find that summer takes the form of shared ice cream with sticky kisses, long showers with warm touches, and hushed pillow talk with synchronous heartbeats. but it doesn’t matter to you, not anymore.

the seasons will change and the years will pass, but so long as you are with your boys, every day will be summer.

[bachiras-toaster]

bllk boys who love to share : ̗̀➛

BLUE LOCK BOYS x f!reader

contents. threesomes, dacryphilia, overstimulation, handjob, pussy-eating

ft. bachira, isagi, ness, kaiser, sae, shidou

BACHIRA when isagi accidentally walks in

with bachira’s back towards the door, he wasn’t able to sense his best friend nearing the entrance. he was too focussed on pinning you down beneath him, interlocking your fingers with his as he pounded into your sloppy cunt to notice the door casually being opened. when you kept shooting flustered glances over bachira’s shoulder, that’s when he finally realised that your eyes were on someone else. and although he was extremely hurt at first, all of his worries washed away when he realised that it was just his friend, isagi— standing there, frozen, his face flushing as his pants got tighter. bachira trusted isagi with his whole life, so of course he would have been okay for isagi to join in on the fun.

bachira now had you sat upon his lap while he leaned against the fluffy pillows of the bed, gently shifting your hips up and down so he could still press his cock further into your pussy. knelt in front of you was isagi, trying to keep his composure while you gave him a hand job, one of his palms shielding his blushing face. his knees were shaking a little against the covers, but he remained high on his knees, even hitching his shirt up a little to reveal his tensed abs, also giving you more room to jerk him off.

“you can look at her if you want, isagi.” bachira smirks as he rests his cheek against the crook of your neck, his eyes gazing up at his best friend. he noticed how isagi seemed to either look over at the wall or down at your hands, but never your face. “she’s really helping you out! the least you can do is look her in the eye.”

NESS letting kaiser have fun with his gf

you were lying against the pillows of the bed, your legs spread wide with kaiser’s face between them as ness sat by your side and ran his fingers gently through your hair. kaiser had made constant advancements towards you behind ness’ back, thinking that if he knew, he’d be judged to shreds. however, he was pleased to hear that ness wasn’t only accepting of kaiser’s behaviour, but also more than willing to allow him to please you. he was practically begging kaiser to sleep with you, not wanting kaiser to dislike him in any way— and if sharing you prevented that, he was more than happy to oblige.

you let out whimpery moans as kaiser’s wet tongue licked another line up between the folds of your pussy before dipping back between them and working shamelessly at your clit. your heart was thumping faster as you squeezed your eyes shut, the only thing keeping you from letting out even louder moans was ness’s comforting hands, which moved to cup the side of your face as he looked at you lovingly.

“she’s so pretty when she moans.” ness smiled blissfully before turning his head to watch ness at work, his eyes sparkling with amazement. “there really is nothing you can’t do! you’re so talented, my girlfriend looks so satisfied!” he gushed before placing a kiss on the side of your neck beneath your jaw, grinning against your skin. “tell him how good you feel, darling. kaiser’s doing a great job, isn’t he?” ness whispered darkly into your ear.

SHIDOU showing sae how it’s done

you were sexually frustrated, shidou could see that. you never usually got a chance to have sex with your boyfriend, sae, and even when you did, it was always missionary. i mean, you always finished in the end, but there was no imagination. that’s why when shidou overheard you complaining to sae about not being experimental enough in the bedroom, he immediately butted in and insisted he show sae how to make you literally shake with pleasure.

that’s how you ended up with your arms tied to the post of sae’s bed, your legs being forced open by shidou as he pumped his cock into you while holding a vibrator up to your clit. your eyes were swelling with tears as you felt your entire body tense up, the only gentle feeling you could sense coming from your boyfriend’s warm touch as he held his palm against your cheek. “she’s actually crying, you’ve outdone yourself,” sae uttered coldly as his thumb drew over your skip to wipe the tears from the corner of your eyes.

“instead of just caressing her face, why don’t you be a dear ‘n hold her legs open instead? she’s tryin’ go close them, see?” shidou chuckled darkly, to which sae rolled his eyes before positioning himself to force your legs even further apart. shidou couldn’t help but be amused as he looked between you and your boyfriend. “don’t sass me, darling,” he grinned at sae, “you should take notes. your girlfriend’s clearly enjoyin’ it.”

[starillusion13]

Keep Talking to me

Pairing: bf! (Mark and Jeno) x gf! reader

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Smut

Warning: friend ditching you, insecurity of weight, comforting talking, use of sex toys, dom and sub dynamic, manhandling, oral(f. and m. rec.), face sitting, fingering, spanking, hair pulling, chocking, edging, orgasm denial, nipple and breast play, hickeys, marking, gentle and rough, double penetration, sex w/o protection(don't do it sillies), lots of kissing, pregnancy talk, aftercare. Full of love💕

W.C: 7.1k Network: @k-vanity

[ THIS FIC IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE. It's only here because this @renjunnnaaa (my best friend) made my brain go crazy with this imagination after TDS3 pics clips n videos, and I am going insane over this. And well, these two are my biases. I would love if you all don't look at my husbands.]

MINORS DONT INTERACT UNDER THE POST🔞

🎀🫦🎀🚬🎀

This is not how your night was supposed to be. Come on, your friend can't ditch you for her new friends, Right? But she did. She really faked an excuse to make you feel dumb in front of everyone and went to have her fun with the new shitheads.

"I should have stayed back home." You mumbled to yourself before getting inside the cab. You were furious and broken at the same time. No No, you can't just let her make you feel this way. She is no one to break you down. You were reminding yourself with this thought and staring blankly at the passing street and street lights which seems a bit dazed like your brain. Oh, no you are crying. Bringing your leather jacket sleeves to your cheeks, it harshly wiped off the stream of tears on your soft skin. The leather surely did make your skin turn red and you didn't care about the eyeliner to get smudged in the corner.

You cared less about everything else because you just wanted to go back home and stay in your room.

Your boyfriends might be having a boys night together at Haechan's house and it would be so rude to call them and let them know about this. Surely, they would come running back home to comfort you. No, you should let them have their own share of fun. Closing your eyes and resting your head back against the seat, you waited for your place to arrive.

Thanking the driver and entering the gate, you noticed the lights turned on and someone's laugh coming from inside the house. Wait, that's Mark. With quick steps, you ran towards the door and pressed the bell. Surprisingly, Mark was quick enough to open the door and he pulled you towards him, wrapping one arm around you and kissed the side of your head, "Hi, baby."

He didn't look at your face for long enough to notice your distress but you kept a smiling face to get his warmth and he was still laughing at something. Weren't they supposed to leave for their night out? Following him towards the living room, you found Jeno standing there, his back towards you and he was fixing something, maybe his shirt or else. Looking at your side, you then noticed Mark and him, both were wearing shining leather jackets. Are they supposed to leave now?

"Dude, our baby is here. Turn around." Mark kept a hand around you, pulling you close enough and when he finally noticed your face, Jeno also noticed your fake smile at the same time.

But you were not looking at either of them because your gaze was fixed on Jeno. his bare body underneath the thick jacket and the way his skin was peeking from under it, with every long step he took towards you. He smirked when he followed your gaze. You noticed a tight black material under the jacket, only hiding his chest but his abs making you drool over it even when you were supposed to be sad because of the earlier incident.

Even if he was enjoying your gaze on him, feeling satisfied with the way you were not even trying to hide your attraction towards him yet he had a concern etching his face. Why are you looking so down? Your eyeliner smudged in the corner of your face and how you were biting your lips, he was not sure if it was because of your usual nervousness or you were losing control over him. Even if he had some plans in his mind, first he had to know about your concerns. Everything else can come later, first it's all about you.

Mark beside you, still holding you close to himself, was confused with your look. It was not the same when you went out. You were so excited and smiling brightly and to be honest, he was so jealous of what made you smile so much other than him. Oh well, at least you are happy. That's all he wants for you.

Jeno patted your head before his palms resting on your cheek, "you are back early, love." you nodded and looked to your other side to avoid their eyes. They surely can read you easily. "Why?" his gaze was boring on your side profile, Mark tugged your hair back behind your ears.

"Well, she had other plans after our meeting." he nodded, but not fully convinced by your explanation. Your usual demeanor after returning home usually seems something else and the way your voice sounds like betraying you was not setting in place. "Aren't you supposed to go to Haechan's place?" you asked him and glanced at Mark. Both of them nodded.

Mark placed a kiss on your cheek, "suddenly his girlfriend surprised him today and now he has some other plan for the night. Boy will have his own fun." he laughed afterwards. 

Jeno slid his hand down from your cheek to your jaw and gently grabbed it, bringing his face closer to yours and placing a soft kiss on your lips, staying there a bit for too long to feel your breath changing the rhythm. Mark's hand rubbing your side and other hand playing with your fingers. You closed your eyes when you felt Jeno whispering on your lips, "tell me what happened, sweetheart."

That's exactly the only push you need to confess to them. Their touch, their voice, their warmth and their eyes on you. Yes. you would do anything, say anything and comply with them on anything.

"I waited at the park for one hour." he hummed against your lips, hearing your soothing voice was relaxing to him. He asked again, "and?" a tear slipped from your eyes, Mark wiped it off. "She never did. And then I saw an IG live from one of her friends. They are partying somewhere else."

"Is my baby hurt?" Mark softly asked you and you nodded, looking at him innocently. Jeno stood back straight and shared a knowing glance with the other boy. "So what will you do now?"

"I don't know. Maybe sleep." Mark took off his hand from around you and brushed back his hair. You took a full look of his outfit. Same tight jeans as Jeno, hugging their legs deliciously perfectly but he had a black t-shirt hiding his skin unlike Jeno. "What about you two?" you love it when they almost dress up like twins.

You stared at them and Jeno suddenly smirked, resting his hands on his hip, "we have a plan tonight."

"oh...good." You looked at Mark who smirked as well, you knitted your brows together and a confused look visible on your face, earning chuckles, "what happened? Why are you both laughing? With whom do you have plans?"

"So many questions we have. Right?" Jeno darkly chuckled and brushed his fingers over your cheeks, tracing the outline of your face, "we have plans with you."

"with me?" you don't remember anything about it.

He nodded and you felt Mark hugging you from back, resting his chin on your shoulder and his nose brushing your neck and ear, his breath rising goosebumps on your skin. Jeno pulled your face up by your chin and your soft gaze met his dark ones. His eyes scanned your face for any hesitation but there was none, so he leaned forward, "lift your leg up."

"what?" you were confused not until Mark whispered into your ears, "do it right, baby." he took off your jacket in the way.

You complied, bending your knees and lifting your leg, Jeno quickly held it and wrapped it around him, "Jump." You did. Mark pressing himself behind you and your legs now wrapped around Jeno's waist. Mark's mouth not leaving a single inch of your skin, licking your earlobe down to your neck, inhaling the perfume, "you smell so sweet, baby." Kissing and nibbling on your skin. your body shook in their hold when Jeno squeezed your chest above your top.

"Tell me how you are feeling." Jeno was not asking you nor telling you to say it, he was ordering you. His tone was quite demanding that he was not playing with any emotions rather totally concentrating on every thought going across your mind. Your breathing heaved with their every little touch and the skin was burning under their touch. The way soft sounds escaping your throat, vibrating against Mark's mouth, he hummed in response.

You couldn't think of anything at the moment, only focusing on their touch and finding a comfortable position to grind against one of them. "if you don't start speaking. We are going to stop here." Jeno said and attached his lips with your throat, sucking a deep red mark, earning a moan out from you. Both groaned when you grind your hip in the weird position, but to release the tension building up in you was to be eased.

Mark grabbed your hip and warned, "stay still. Keep talking and let us do everything."

You still didn't say anything when Jeno grabbed your chin rather harshly and brought your face near to his, "don't let me lose my patience, love. Use all your words to start speaking."

You nodded, "I..mhm..am just upset." Jeno's hand brushed your thighs before his hands disappeared under your skirt. He folded a bit of your high rise socks and again his hands sliding up and down your back of the thigh, "why?"

"s-she didn't even tell me about it." Your head fell back on Mark's shoulder and you clutched Jeno's jacket when he again sucked a hickey near your collarbone. He had undone only three buttons from your shirt, rest keeping as it is. "And, do you want to feel good?"

"yes." Honestly, you want to forget about everything from the evening and just want to spend time with them. And, of course they would always be too happy to fulfill your requests as why not. If they could, they would have kept you between them forever. Oh, you are a treasured one for them.

Jeno tapped Mark's shoulder whose mouth quickly left your skin and he nodded when the younger boy motioned towards the shared bedroom. Mark led the way while Jeno placed your head on his shoulder and rubbed your back, " you just have to tell us everything, okay? You trust us, right?"

"hm..." your arms and legs wrapped around him and his strong cologne hitting your nose, pulling you towards him more. You were quite surprised with his strength. He was holding you up for quite a while now and still, he didn't get tired. It's not like you are those skinny girls who can have those barbie moments from fictions but at least he should put you down now, his hands might get strain.

He followed behind Mark, kissing your earlobe and kissing the exposed shoulder, your shirt sliding down your shoulder. He placed you on the edge of the bed, kissing your lips before standing straight to look behind you. You turned your neck, noticing Mark pulling off his jacket, revealing his black undershirt and you gulped, knowing what's coming.

A hand caressing your head made you look up at Jeno, "you just have to trust us. Okay?"

You nodded as he grabbed your hairs and yanked your head back, you groaned at the pull, "words, love. What we said earlier? You will keep talking and we will do everything."

"Yes, Jeno." You blurted and he smiled, even if the smile was so cute but he pushed you back and left you balancing yourself on your elbows.

Mark's voice echoed inside the room, "come here." And you know better, you shouldn't waste your time and wait for them to lose their patience, you crawled towards him, Jeno's eyes fixed at your wiggling ass and Mark was looking at your chest peeking from the end of the shirt. They both groaned at the sight.

Mark patted his thigh and you quickly placed yourself, your legs on either side of his and your covered core in contact with the harsh material of the jeans. He took a hold of your hands and brought to his lips, kissing them softly and smiling at you. "Always pretty. So, how should we start?"

"Please fuck me, Mark." He chuckled hearing your response and Jeno shook his head before going towards a particular drawer. When you tried to look that way, Mark held your chin and faced him, "I'm here talking with you. Your pussy is almost touching me and still you are looking somewhere else."

You shook your head, "No no I am your girl. I'm yours, please fuck me."

"Aren't we already going to the end?" He curled the locks between his fingers and smirked, "we have so much for the night."

With that he grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you in for a kiss, pressing his lips onto you a bit too long and then moving it in a different rhythm to yours. His other hand unbuttoning your shirt and your hands placed on his chest curled up. You love the way he takes his whole time to kiss you, to make you feel every passing second when his lips are on you.

Soon, his lips moved with your flow, hands massaging your chest and your hands snaked around him to pull him more close when you felt him pulling apart. Teeth clashing with each other and tongues exploring each other inside but soon he felt your hips grinding against his thigh, he held your hips tightly to restrict your movements but not fully, still letting you to move a bit.

"Please..." you whimpered, trying to get more friction and chuckled, pulling his mouth away from yours, pressing a little kiss on your nose. Guiding your hips to move to his liking but it was not enough for you.

"You look so pretty when you beg like this. So desperate for me. My baby." He pecked your lips, and lifted you up when he felt your body was shaking. He chuckled, "You are trying your best to get yourself off with that little movement? So pathetic you are, baby."

"She is and that's why her friend took her advantage." Jeno spoke from the end of the bed but you quickly protested, still annoyed that Mark didn't let you come before on his thigh. "I will talk to her about this tomorrow."

Mark grabbed your cheek and simply stated with a stern voice, "NO. You are not speaking to her anymore."

" but-"

"I don't want to hear it. Now turn around for me." You did and he placed you between his legs, pulling you closer and your back against his chest. He patted your thigh and gently pushed them to either side, pulling them under his legs to cage you there.

Jeno climbed up the bed and rested between your legs, placing his hand over your thighs, "who loves you the most?" He stared at your eyes.

"You. Both of you."

He hummed again, "who cares for you?"

"You both."

He cupped your face, placing a soft kiss on your lips. He was doing it on purpose to make you crave for kisses more. The drools from the shared kiss with Mak earlier were still around your lips but he could care less about it. "And did we ever make you cry like her?"

You shook your head, "no."

"So we win this. Now it's clear that you should only listen to us. She is clearly jealous of you, love. You are perfect and nobody should dare to make you cry." He kissed your temple before retreating himself.

Your eyes were still looking at the black leather material with belt design inside his jacket and your curiosity did get noticed by him when he chuckled, "if you want to see it. Come, remove my jacket."

From somewhere you got the enthusiasm, you quickly pulled yourself up from Mark's chest and leaned forward to tug his jacket and he helped you to get it off from his body. "This is so cool. I like it so much."

He threw the jacket to the side of the bed and nodded, "I like this kinda vest too but earlier when you came, Mark was laughing at this."

Mark protested from behind, "woah dude. The way you were fixing it, I was just telling you that it looked like you were fixing your bra."

Jeno glared at him but both of them heard your giggle and it's the first time you smiled today's night, "I see you are enjoying this, y/n...that means we are your best boyfriends."

You nodded and Mark kissed your neck, shoulder blade and left deep red marks over your shoulder, pulling down the shirt more to expose you. "Yes but I'm feeling offended as you both might laugh at me when I fix my bra. Right?"

"No, love. It's about your comfort and also, I don't understand why you have to wear that around us as we could then see your tits and them bouncing perfectly." Jeno stated and laughed when you slapped his biceps. His muscles were more prominent and tight than the last two months, probably hitting the gym more.

When you were about to slap him again, Mark held your hands back. You were already spread in front of the man kneeling before you. "Now stay like this for Jeno, baby." He whispered with his deep voice.

Jeno took something from beside him and when he turned it on and turned towards your side, your body shivered with excitement. It was his favorite rose vibrator and you knew better than what was in for the night.

Mark pulled your skirt and rubbed his hand above your clothed core, groaning in your ear when he felt the wet patch, "ah baby. So wet for us. Just with our touch you might come. So filthy."

When you didn't reply and closed your eyes, leaning your head back to enjoy the sensation, he whispered seductively, "keep talking, baby. Or you are not getting anything."

"Yes yes. I'm so wet for you. So filthy just for you both. Only for both of you." Hearing you, he pressed his palms over your core and stayed there with the pressure. Both of their hungry eyes watching your every twist of expression and your legs shaking. "Please, do something."

After rubbing a few circles over your core, Mark pulled your panties aside and the cold air of the conditioner hit the bare core, making your body shiver. Jeno spreaded your arousal across your folds and groaned with the sight. You suddenly gasped when he brought the vibrator to your core, the setting was low and his satisfaction was high. Mark squeezed your chest, "do you like it?"

"Yes." a moan followed your reply. Even when the setting turned to a set high, you were not getting what you wanted. Your legs shaking under his tight hold, when you managed to free a hand and tried to bring the vibrator close, Jeno grabbed it quickly and glared, "take what I'm giving you and use your words, not your hands." He squeezed your hand above Mark's thigh.

The toy felt like him teasing your core with kitten licks. A frustrated groan and whine leaving your mouth when he pulled away the vibrator, denying your orgasm. That was not for once, he was repeating the action every time he felt you clenching around the toy. Both of them were reading your expressions like a straight A student as if they could just draw your every expression a second later. "Yes, baby. You are doing so good for us." Mark whispered and again, Jeno pulled away the vibrator.

"Please.." tears falling down your eyes, "Please...more...I can't." your pleadings only earned chuckles from Jeno and a laugh from Mark into your ears. Mark wrapped a hand around your throat to put pressure on the sides.

He mocked your expression, "you can't? But baby..." Jeno completely pulled it away and turned it off and when you tried to lift your hip, Mark slapped your pussy making you cry out, "don't be a bad girl now."

Jeno laid down beside you two and you looked at him confused. Mark relieved you from his hold and you turned to your side to take a better look at them. They noticed your tear stained face, flushed cheeks and beautiful red marks on your exposed skin. Your pussy was barely hiding under the skirt because of your disheveled condition. The way Jeno was laying down and his bare upper body with those tight belt material across his chest, resting perfectly against his chest was pulling you towards him. You would jump on him anytime but you knew that you didn't have any choice to do anything today without their permission. Anyways, they would really love to see your wild side though.

"Come here." The laying man called out for you but you rested yourself on your palm and confusedly stared at him. He rolled his eyes and extended his hand towards you and you grabbed it, still unsure of exactly what he wanted. "Sit on my face." he said and your eyes went wide.

"W-what? No. I can't."

Mark brushed your hair before taking a fist at it and yanked back, "did he ask you?" he pecked your lips, "go for it, baby."

When Jeno pulled you towards him, stumbling just beside his chest, tapping your thigh to sit on his chest, you shook your head again, "no. Jeno, please."

"Y/n, what are you requesting?" His tone was harsh and the way he was staring at you darkly was a dangerous look but still he waited to listen to your hesitation. If you were uncomfortable then he would appreciate you and wouldn't force you to do it. This was a new thing he wanted to try and when he, both of them noticed the fear in your eyes, they shared a look.

"I can't." he squeezed your hand and Mark stroked your back, "why you can't?"

You looked down at your lap, "I am heavy..." you whispered and only if you did notice the disbelief look on the face of the man laying down. He scoffed, "and do you think I care?"

"Do you think your weight matters to us?" he kissed the back of your palm, "you are perfect, y/n. No one compares to you."

"Yes, baby. You are our perfect girl." pressing a kiss to the side of your head. "go, listen to him."

Jeno guided you slowly to sit on his chest and the moment you did, your fingers started admiring the material on his chest, the silver parts brushing against your hot skin. His hands moving up and down your thighs, rolling down your high rise socks. "Do you like it that much?"

You nodded, "this is looking so good on you." you met his eyes and smiled, "looking like mine."

"Is my y/n flirting with me?" he raised a brow and you giggled. Mark patted your thigh, "let's take this off, sweety." he indicated under your skirt. You nodded and Jeno guided you on your knees and Mark helped you to take your panties off, still keeping your skirt on and your shirt almost falling off your body. As soon as your bare heat came in contact with his belted chest, you let out a moan and clutched his shoulder, your body leaning forwards.

"Come on, I'm starving." he pulled you towards his face but he felt you grinding on his chest and chuckled, "y/n, stay still." he spanked your bare ass and you yelped in sudden hit. Jolting forwards, he easily guided you to sit on his face and you sank down. His nose on your clit and his lips mounding over your core.

"Oh my god." you clutched the headboard tightly and on the other hand grabbing Mark's hand. "Ah..this feels so good." your breath labored and even if you wanted to grind your hip, Jeno gripped it tightly, surely leaving red marks over your skin. He sucked on your clit and you threw your head back with a loud moan. His groans vibrated against your heat, making your coils tighten inside your stomach, he lifted you up a bit and you whined for the loss of contact, "you taste so sweet." he kissed and bit your inner thighs, your body shaking under their hold.

Mark was smirking at the view in front of him. How your body was shaking and squirming and your tears falling down, he moved towards your face and kissed your cheeks. Your innocent eyes met his dark gaze and he crushed his lips with yours, directly moving his tongue inside when you cried out again as Jeno's tongue started torturing your clit. Sucking and lapping onto your heat like a starved animal. "Stay still." his muffled order with a groan from beneath you made your head shake against Mark, "listen to him, baby."

"I can't please. Make me cum. Please."

"You will, baby." he kissed your shoulder and slid down your shirt completely from your body, leaving you in your bra and skirt. He bit his lips at the sight and left your hand to get off the bed. You pleaded towards the other boy, "please Jeno."

As he felt you clutching and your arousal dripping on his tongue. He stopped eating you out and made you stay still. You whimpered and sobbed, "why why?"

"What? You thought I would let you come so easily? Not yet, love." he smirked. He spanked your ass again when he felt your attempt to move your hips against him. You both heard shuffling sound from your side and noticed Mark taking off his shirt and your eyes instantly trailed over his body and he amusedly watched you checking him out. "I know what you want, baby"

Jeno spanked you again and you quickly turned towards him, "did I say to watch him?" you shook your head and quickly added a faint, "no." he smiled and guided you to sit on his face again, latching his mouth to your heat, devouring and groaning and your moan echoing inside the room. Standing beside you both, Mark grabbed a fistful of your hair and turned your face towards him, "won't you help me, baby?"

"yes...angh...I will."

"Good girl." he held your shoulder to hold you straight and your hands busily and messily tugged at his button to open it and pulled his pants down. Your hands and legs started shaking and Jeno's big nose bumping on your clit made you go insane when he suddenly stopped and you whined. Mark pulled his pants and boxer down to free his member and took it in his hand and rubbed it with his own arousal, groaning while his head fell backwards.

"why? " You whined and pouted while looking down at Jeno. you didn't know for how many more times he was going to deny your orgasm but before you could complain anymore, Mark grabbed your neck and guided you towards his length, "Now stop complaining. Be a good girl and suck on it like the way Jeno is making you feel good."

Shoving his length inside your warm mouth, he let out a guttural groan and tears brimmed in your eyes. He pulled out a bit when you licked the tip and swallowed the length, hollowing your cheek and resting it on your tongue, teeth grazing over his red girth. He put a pressure on your neck, pushing himself more into your mouth and soon you felt Jeno's mouth abusing your leaking clit, squeezing your shut and you felt your body shaking. Your one hand supporting your body and the other one taking a hold of Mark's member while he was abusing your mouth.

You choked on his length when he shoved himself more inside of you and started thrusting his hip with a tight grip on your neck. Tears streaming down and body jolted when he yanks your head back, letting you breathe. You gasped for air and panting, "please...please...I'm near."

He scanned your face, biting his lip and groaning at your messed up face, "what you say, Jeno?"

Jeno muttered while his tongue fucking into you fast, "what?"

"Should we let her cum?"

You pleaded, "please."

Jeno groaned and sucked hard, making your stomach do turn and twist, "I don't know. Should we?"

"Yes...please." you mentally prayed because earlier you have already been denied so many orgasms and you don't know how to hold it anymore. Jeno again said, "First make him cum in your mouth and then only you can cum. Okay?"

Your teary eyes begged again, "please, mark. Please, cum for me."

Mark clicked his tongue, "be a good girl for me."

He again shoved himself into your mouth and started fucking you relentlessly like Jeno fucking your cunt. Your moans getting lost on his length and the way he gripped tighter on your neck, you were sure he was near and so was you but you knew you couldn't come until he did. Soon, he moaned out your name and hot liquid shooting down your throat and some spilling down your chin. He held your head back, "swallow it." you did and even licked your lips to taste the bitter taste on the lips.

He bent forward, his breath hitting your earlobes and he whispered, "now come for us, baby."

Your whole body shook, letting out a loud moan calling out their names and he kissed your shoulder, "good girl."

Jeno gripped your hips gently to ride out your high and planted you to his side. You were panting and resting on your palms and knees. "Don't think we are done with you."

Jeno's voice made you look at them and he got off the bed to stand straight, "come here." you crawled to the end of the bed and stayed on your knees. His lips shining with your juices and some falling down over his vest and he licked his lips and wiped his chin.

"You like my vest so much. then, Take it off on your own." you nodded and searched for the way to open it. Both of them admired your movements. Your flushed face, red eyes, marked skin and messy hair was not letting their eyes off from you. As soon as you got rid of the material, your fingers tugged at his jeans button.

He held your hand glared, "did I say anything else?" you stared at him and he pulled you up in a kiss. His kisses are always different from Mark in every aspect and this is why you realize every little kiss from them. Who is the one kissing you even when you're asleep. He sucked your lips, biting it down and sucking your tongue. He tries to be gentle but as soon as he gets a taste of you, he will lose control.

Gripping your jaw to suck hickeys on your throat and shoulder, he messily makes out with you. His grips were way more strong than Mark's because the older one becomes gentle now and often, but the younger one's grip doesn't falter ever. His other hand guided yours to his abs, finger tracing each bump and the muscle lining down to his jeans button. He tapped your hand to signal you to open it and you did it quickly, surprising the one standing beside you.

"So eager for him. Aren't you?"

Jeno pulled your head back by your jaw, "answer him."

"Yes. yes. I want you, Jeno."

He chuckled, pecking your lips and pulling down his jeans along with the boxer, "have patience. You will be getting me." his fingers entangled with your hairs, massaging your scalp. Your eyes closed and leaned to his touch, when he suddenly made you hiss with the sudden pull, "suck me. Come on, you can't be greedy now."

You nodded and attempted to lean forward, his grip became tighter to meet your face, "behave, y/n."

"Yes. I am not greedy."

"Good girl." Before you could have adjusted him inside your mouth, he thrusted forward, choking you in the process, he was slightly bigger than Mark and you had to use your palm to match both the rhythms, hollowing your cheek and teeth grazing while his tip hitting the back of your throat. Tears spilling from your eyes and your drools by the corner of your mouth, trailing down to the chin.

You felt a presence behind you, his hands exploring your body, roaming around, giving you feather touch with some occasional squeeze here and there. Your whole body jolted when he pinched a nipple above your bra. His chuckle was faint due to the loud groan and moans of the man in front of you. With a quick snap, your bra was undone and he was quick to fondle your chest and kiss all your bare back. His hands were playing with your stomach, tracing patterns when he took both of the nipples between his fingers. Pinching them and pulling them before releasing them when you were squirming. Repeating the same action all over again.

Jeno pulled you away and you gasped for air, drools sticking to your chin and trailing down the throat. Mark left one nipple to insert a finger into your hole and you moaned. You were adjusting to the new feelings of a finger inside you, when he shoved inside another one and started pumping in a full speed. You gripped the bedsheet tightly and Jeno slapped your cheek with his member, "don't think of coming before you make me cum."

And again, he shoved himself inside your warm mouth, feeling the satisfaction and pleasure again. He guided your head to his own liking, grabbing your hair and moving it in a rhythm and Mark was showing no mercy to your abused cunt and maintained his own pace, your body squirming and eyes shut close. "Look at me." Jeno's harsh tone made your eyes flutter open and you quickly looked up, meeting his eyes. "Keep looking at me." Mark pinched your nipple and the other hand was busy making you nearing your climax.

Jeno moaned loudly, not caring the neighbors would think someone growling inside your house and pulled himself out. "Swallow it." you tried to swallow the hot thick sticky liquid but some still spilled from your corner of the lips and trailing down your chin to your chest. "Do you want to come?" He noticed your struggle to keep eye contact and as soon as you nodded, he pinched your left out nipple, making you cry out. "Mark, stop there." he ordered and kissed your nose with a smile.

Mark was quick to stop and retreated his hand from your cunt. You whined and sobbed because of another denied orgasm. Jeno shoved off his pants aside before climbing on the bed and then when you noticed Mark had no clothing on himself. Jeno pulled your back flushed to his front. His member poking your lower back and Mark resting between your legs when he kissed your inner thighs and his member hanging limp in front of you. You gulped at it and met his gaze. You loved this. They knew about it. You loved edging and getting denied orgasms and they were well aware of your limits and if it was too much, you better knew how to use the certain word.

"Do you trust us?"

"Yes, Mark. I do. Please."He kissed your temple before smoothly sliding himself inside you from front and wrapped his arms around your shoulder, kissing down your collarbone and biting some sensitive areas. Groaning in your ear and licking it afterwards when you felt a cold sensation in your ass. Jeno was spreading the lube to prep you with a finger and then two when he suddenly inserted himself. Groaning in your other ear, both of them using you like a fuck toy and it was a whimpering and groaning mess inside the room. Jeno's lips and teeths were not leaving a single area to suck and his fingers kept rolling and pinching your nipples, sometimes turning your head around to kiss you.

Mark brought your face to kiss you again and other hand circling over the clit.

"So full, Mark. so full, Jeno." you were mumbling so many things. Jeno hummed in your ear, "I know. Take it like a good girl." you grabbed Mark's wrist which was busy down there, "please, Mark. Too much." he kissed your closed eyes, "shh...you are doing so well. Taking us so well."

The double stretch was burning you out and you were sobbing between them but their hot touch was building your coils inside you again. Their rhythm soon matched with each other and Jeno kissed the sensitive spot in the back of your ear, whispering, "come for us, baby."

Your head fell back on his shoulder and soon after both of them bottomed out inside of you, filling your two holes with their hot spilled seeds painting your walls. Jeno bit down on your shoulder and Mark bit your throat slightly when they hit the climax. Three of you were panting in the position. Neither of them pulled out from you, Jeno kissed your shoulder softly and Mark kissed your cheek, "look at me, y/n."

Your hooded eyes looked at him and he smiled sweetly, "let's clean you up. Come on."

You shook your head, not having a bit of energy to talk. Now it's Jeno who spoke up and held you still when you whined as Mark slipped himself out, "y/n, just stay awake for a while. Then we will sleep together. Promise." he kissed your head and he slipped himself out, you were nodding your head and tried to fall to your side but he swept you off the bed and stood up with you in his arms.

Mark entered the bathroom first to prepare for the bath and soon after Jeno followed him with you. Jeno took the shower by himself and Mark cleaned you up with him. In the meantime, you cleared your fogged mind and stared at both of them while dressing up into fresh and comfy clothes.

As the three of you reached near the bed, you climbed on it quickly and fell down on your back, staring at the ceiling in comfortable silence. Both of them followed you on either side and chuckled at your cute reactions. You hugged Mark and snuggled your face into his chest when he stroked your hairs and rubbed your back. Jeno turned you around and pecked your lips, "are you okay? Were we rough with you?"

You shook your head, "no. you both were perfect. If you were hurting me then you would have listened to me and stopped there."

He nodded and patted his bare chest. Neither of them were wearing any shirts, only in boxers but you were in a camisole and a satin shorts. You happily rested your head on his chest and closed your eyes against his heart beat, "can I ask you both something?"

Mark hummed and urged you to speak, placing a kiss on your shoulder and pressing himself to your back. You felt both of their body heat against your skin and it was the best feeling ever you could get in your life. Both of them together with you and no other tension surrounding you.

"Both of you cummed inside me. What if I get pregnant?" you rubbed patterns on Jeno's stomach. He stroked your hair and massaged your scalp. "So?"

"Are you both okay with it?"

Mark turned you around and smiled, "we will be more than okay. It will be so nice with your swollen belly and after a few months, a crying baby in the household."

"And then there will be two babies for us to handle, Mark." you hit Jeno's arm when he teased you. Both of their laughs match the pitch and you made annoyed faces at them. "Don't worry, y/n. We are okay with everything which you love. If you are fine with having a baby, we are happy too." Jeno smiled down at you.

Mark added, " we won't pressure you for anything. If you don't want one, then also it's fine. Just take it easy. No rush. I know you got this."

"I love you. I really love both of you."

Mark smiled, "I love you too."

"I love you too, y/n." Jeno caressed your cheek.

Yes, the love between you three is incomparable. You don't think if anyone else in this universe can ever make you feel loved like them. You just want to stay between them like this forever. If only you could sleep in their arms and forget all other worries from life, just you and them and your sweet dreams.

"Keep talking, y/n. I will have a nice sleep." Mark laughed at Jeno's statement and you glared at them before pressing your face further into Mark's chest when he pulled you towards him, blocking your attempt to hit Jeno who was smiling at your cute act. He finally hugged you from behind, with you three drifting off to sleep.

Atleast, the night was not as bad as you thought it would be.

Note: please I want to thanks to people for reading and reblogging. Reviews are always appreciated. Spread love not hate.

Taglist: @mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @anyamaris @yeoobin @icchyi @jwnghyuns @piratequeen-queenofgames @dinonuguaegi @oreharuuu @hwanring @hyuukah @kazscara @aceofspadesbiofalltrades @nvdhrzn @meowmeeps @vtyb23 @haechansbbg

[open!]

[sainns]

LIKE OR LIKE LIKE.

𝓢. ㅤㅤthis is the the first time you've ever gotten drunk and of course you go and confess to your best friend.

SJYㅤ✶ ㅤ (⠀femreader⠀) . . . best friends to lovers (kind of, they don't explicitly start dating), fluff, alcohol consumption, reader gets drunk, not proofread.ㅤ1428 words

“i’ve never seen her drunk before,” sunghoon points to where you’re leaning against the wall.

jake turns to look at you, watching as you talk to chaewon. you’re continously taking sips of your drink, a sleepy smile on your face as you listen to your friend’s (most likely) drunk ramblings. he can tell you’re tipsy, at the very least; your body is swaying, it seems like you’re having a hard time staying upright.

“yeah.. i’m gonna go lay her down before it gets worse. i don’t want her to wake up sick,”

sunghoon gives jake a knowing look, shrugging as he takes a sip of his own drink, “predictable,”

“what?”

“nothing,”

sunghoon grins, patting jake on the head before walking away to—jake assumes—bother his girlfriend. the older boy shakes his head, running a hand through his already messy hair, turning around once more to watch you.

this is the first time you’ve ever gotten drunk, he thinks. you’ve mentioned before that it’s because you’re scared of how you’ll act, not wanting to embarrass yourself in front of them. he’s glad that you’re more comfortable now, and at least you’re only here with them, your friends, and not at some party full of strangers and weirdos.

he watches as chaewon pats your back, albeit a little forcefully, before she leaves to find someone new to bother. he also watches you attempt to follow her but give up halfway through your first step. he smiles to himself, heading over to where you’re standing—or leaning.

“oookay, no more for you. you can’t even stand straight, dude,” jake takes the red solo cup away and out of your reach, giving you an amused smile. you pout but you don’t put up a fight—you can’t, not fully anyways. if you could, though, you would tell him that he’s being dramatic; six shots and half a cup of jungle juice is hardly anything.

“c’mon, you can go lay down in my room, you look tired,”

“okay,”

you make a move to walk by yourself but jake steps behind you, placing his hands on your waist so that he can guide you away from your friends. it feels like your senses are heightened to a dangerous level because why do you get goosebumps the moment he touches you? you squeeze your eyes shut, forcing your heart to calm down.

somehow you make it to his bedroom without stumbling a whole lot (this is 100% thanks to jake; you were sure that you wouldn’t have been able to do it yourself), and he taps your side, signaling for you to sit down on his bed, which you do.

he kneels down and pulls your shoes off, setting them on the floor. he pats your thigh, leaving yet another wake of goosebumps on your skin, “stay here, ‘kay? i’m gonna go get you some water,”

“i don’t want any,” you whine, “i’m tired, not thirsty,”

“yeah, well, you’ll be thirsty in a little bit,”

“no, i won’t,”

“yes, you will. you’re drunk,”

you huff, throwing yourself back on the bed, “am not. also you’re so annoying. i don’t want water, i always drink water,”

jake snorts at your antics, tucking his head away as he tries to keep from laughing too loudly. after a few seconds, he calms down and looks back at your figure, smiling fondly. you can’t see him, your eyes closed as you hum some random song that he hasn’t heard since he was ten years old.

you look so serene, he doesn’t want to disturb you. he figures he can just tell sunghoon or someone to come bring some water or he can wait for you to fall asleep.

“i’m sad,” you huff, sitting up slowly.

“why are you sad, hm?” he rests his head against your knee.

you frown at him. his words felt slightly condescending. not that you really cared, in fact it kind of made you feel dizzy. wow, he’s just terrible. looking at you all worried, taking care of you while you’re (not) drunk.

“because of you,”

he sits up at that. he looks like a dog who heard the word ‘snack’ or something. of course, he wasn’t happy. he looked more worried than before, in fact.

“me? what’d i do?”

“you’re just annoying,” you whine, “you know, i like you and it’s kinda funny ‘cause i’m, like, so obvious about it,”

“you like me? like like me?”

“well, actually, i love you,” you pause, “you’re not very smart, now that i think about it. how’d you even graduate? did you cheat? i think everyone knows but you. this is so awful, i can’t believe i had to go and like someone so oblivious. you’re lucky everything else cancels that out,”

“wait, wait, wait. you love me? that’s..” jake asks, his face flushed, completely disregarding everything you said after your confession, “yn, you’re.. you know, you’re drunk,”

“oh, okay,” you push his head away, “look, i’ll tell you tomorrow, ‘cos i really mean it and you’re so annoying and it’s, like, oh my god,” you say something else after that but he can’t tell what. not with you speaking as fast as humanly possible paired with drunken slurring.

he nods slowly, processing your words, “yeah.. okay. you can’t forget, alright?”

you grin, poking his cheek, “duh, i have an amazing memory,”

your amazing memory may be your downfall. surely, you had drank enough to wake up the next morning with zero memory. isn’t that what usually happens when someone gets so drunk they tell their best friend that they like them? not even like, you said you loved him.

and now you’re laying in his bed, face pressed into his pillow, absolutely mortified at your past self’s actions.

you’re never going to speak to him again. you’re going to get up, put your shoes on, and sneak out. yeah, it’ll seem like you’re doing the walk of shame, god forbid anyone catches you, but that’d be less embarrassing than having to talk to jake.

you don’t get the chance to attempt to escape, though, because jake walks in right as you’re weighing your options.

“hey, are you awake? it’s two in the afternoon,” you hear him place a glass on the nightstand as he sits next to you.

you could pretend that you forgot.

you feel his hand rubbing your back, “i heard you groaning, get up,”

“i don’t want to,” you mumble into the pillow, pressing your face into it harder.

“i can’t hear you, you know,”

you groan loudly, picking your head up, “i don’t want to get up,”

“why? are you embarrassed?”

“i didn’t do anything embarrassing,” yes you did.

he nods, “nah, you didn’t. i was just checking, you get embarrassed easily,”

you’re quiet for a moment after that. his hand is still rubbing your back and you can feel your heat beating against your chest. you want to pretend that you forgot about last night but for some reason you can’t. you want to bring it up despite feeling nauseous at the thought of being rejected.

“i like you,”

he smiles, “yesterday you said you love me,”

you gape at him and he laughs loudly. you want to kill both him and yourself.

“i’m sorry—i’m kidding.. i like you too,” he hums, tilting his head, “no, actually, i love you,”

you frown, “you’re embarrassing me,”

he laughs again which makes you want to both laugh and hide away from him, “god, you’re so cute. i kinda wanna kiss you, is that okay?”

you almost say yes before you remember that you just woke up not even twenty minutes ago and you are not going to kiss him with bad breath. especially not when you were drinking the night before.

“i just woke up,”

he leans forward, close enough that you can just barely lift your head and you’ll be able to kiss him, “so?”

“no,” it pains you to do so but you turn your head away from him. you know he won’t kiss you if you don’t want him to but you’d probably fold and kiss him if he kept staring at you like that, “you can.. uh, later. after i brush my teeth,”

he turns you over onto your back, smiling above you brightly. you gasp at the sudden movement, your heart racing yet again (you should go to the hospital), “promise? i really wanna kiss you right now,”

you laugh, reaching your hand up to move his hair out of his face, “yeah, i promise. i really wanna kiss you too.”

[hunnieknight]

AU Sketch Ideas II

Series I, Series III Series IV

Sfw, gn!reader, mention of Crepus's death

Court (Ragbros + Jean)

The reader Kaeya's and Diluc's youngest sibling, Jean wants to propose but the reader misunderstands thinking Jean likes Diluc

Jean is a traditional woman, she believes she has to meet your guardians who else if not your brothers.

She asked for your brothers for a blessing, which caught them both off-guard. Of course, they give blessing.

The reader stays with Diluc in the Dawn Winery before and after Crepus's death. So Jean obviously often visits Dawn Winery just to see you.

But you are so oblivious you thought with Jean often dining with you and Diluc and sometimes Kaeya, she has a crush on your big brother.

Whenever she visits, you often hide away in your room or walk around the Dawn Winery, thinking you help her get close to your brother. On the other hand, Jean always slumped whenever you left.

It does infuriate the three of them, but who can be mad? Diluc is so protective he often shielded you from all this stuff. Kaeya always jabs Diluc for this. Jean always sees this naive side of you as a cute quirk.

It doesn't help that Kaeya often teasingly calls Jean "sister-in-law" in front of you. Diluc also called Jean that during dinner, when you are also at the table. It should be obvious but boy it makes you more sure she has a thing for your brothers.

Every time Jean greets you or gives you gift, you often passed it to your brothers, whilst Kaeya just smiling in defeat and Diluc just looking at you funny.

Barbara just prays to Venti Barbatos that her sister will have a smooth process in making you her spouse.

Also, Barbara will be the godmother for you both's future kids.

Well, it might take years for that to be a reality.

Until it happens, your brothers and this knight will keep trying to make you realize how bad Jean wants you to take her surname.

Adelinde can't wait to be a "grandma"

Little Dragon (Zhongli + Xiao)

There was a request i got before about Dad!Zhongli, i might do that in the future

Dad Zhongli and Big Bro Xiao!

PROTECTIVE AS FUCK.

oohhhhh every kid in the daycare somehow has a puppy crush on you.

Especially a certain ginger- It seems like Zhongli does not like you getting close to him.

Zhongli wants you to learn about his culture, so he often teaches you how to eat with chopsticks and with a chopstick helper. Obviously, you hate it, you just want to use your hand and eat your food. It doesn't help that Xiao really wants you to learn how to use chopsticks too.

Xiao adores you dearly and Zhongli loves you so much.

Despite spoiling you quite a lot, they also let you learn something by yourself but also watch closely for your safety. Like climbing stairs, peeling oranges, putting on socks, etc.

Dragon!Zhongli and Bird Xiao plushies!

Your outfit will consist of brown/yellow or earthy colours. Sometimes also purple and white so you and Xiao can have matching outfit.

[ceoofglytchell]

Safe Haven

Summary: While Aemond searches for comfort with Madame Sylvi, the older brother has long chosen you, one of the Madame’s more expensive girls, to be the shoulder he cries on.

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Brothel worker!Reader

Word count: 3127 words

Warnings: hurt/comfort, making out, brief nudity, brief smut, allusions to past smut, mention of sex work, mention of the death of a child, he’s kinda dependent on you, no mention of Y/N

Notes: I just wanted to thank you all for the positive reactions to my first fanfic! I could never have imagined people would actually read and like the stuff I write and I am very grateful for that. Also I would like to thank @danytar for supporting me ever since I started this blog, love ya! Anyways, here’s another one for you! 💛

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“Look, it's the king!”

You looked up from the cup of wine that you had been holding for some time, staring into the dark red liquid, hoping that tonight you would just have to sit there and look pretty for the men coming by to get rid of their loneliness for an hour or so. While you were grateful for your job, as it meant you wouldn’t have to live a miserable life on the dirty streets of King’s Landing, there were times when you wished you were someone else.

A lady from a rich house, a princess, a queen...

However, those were nothing more but daydreams and besides, you didn't really want to carry the burdens of royal life on your shoulders. Not when you had heard for many years how much they plagued a certain silver haired prince who came to you ever since he saw you dancing for some men once in Sylvi's fine establishment. It had been several years ago and at first he had actually only come to you to have someone to drink with. A little later, he had begun to open up to you and then you often dried his tears and held him in your arms whenever his grandfather and mother once again frightened him with the thought that he would have to wear the crown one day.

It had been two weeks since he had last been with you. The poor boy had stumbled into the brothel in the middle of the night, completely drunk, bumped into people and started a fight because he had thought you were taking care of another client, the thought of which he could not stand, which had not been true, as you had simply taken a small break. You had barely run into the room after you had been told he had come when he had already thrown himself directly into your arms and buried his face in your hair while sobbing bitterly.

The very next day, you and many other people had been dragged into the dragon pit to watch Aegon being crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms in front of everyone, and that moment your heart had broken for him, knowing how much he had never wanted that title.

Now, some time later, he was standing in the doorway again, his two friends Martyn and Leon were standing not far behind him and a young man with raven-black hair was also there, but you didn't recognize him and he seemed to be a little unwell. Aegon also seemed drunk, very drunk actually, as he was slurring his words and could hardly walk in a straight line, but when he spotted you on the opposite side of the room, a broad grin formed on his handsome face.

"My love!" he called loudly and stumbled past a couple, who seemed lost in a passionate dance, and ran up a small staircase to where you and some other girls were sitting on the sofas and talking to pass the time. His friends followed him cautiously, knowing how infatuated he was with you.

You quickly placed your golden cup of wine on the side table, stood up and approached him just to make sure he wouldn't trip and embarrass himself in front of all these people. He was the king after all and you knew some who already saw him as weak and incapable of ruling, which you wanted to shield him from. You knew what he had been through recently and it had only been a matter of time before he came back to you.

There was just one small problem... his brother had also come through the doors not too long ago and he had not left yet.

So you had two things to worry about that night: Aegon and not accidentally stumbling over Aemond.

As soon as you got close enough, Aegon wrapped his arms around your smaller frame and held you tightly against him, as if to make sure you wouldn't vanish into thin air. You have been his safe haven for quite some time now, and your mere presence did wonders for his troubled soul, your smile a balm for his heavy heart. Your long, wavy hair smelled of roses, and your body, wrapped in green satin robes, clung to his so perfectly that for a moment he thought you had melted into one. Aegon wanted nothing more than you and your closeness, which was why he had come here that evening. He had wanted to see you.

"I missed you," Aegon murmured into your hair, his fingers digging into the fabric of your robes over your hips to feel your warmth. But he would prefer it if you weren't wearing any clothes at all so he could feel your soft skin under his fingers instead. You didn't even have to do anything together, he just wanted to be close to you.

"I missed you too, Your Grace."

"Don't call me that," he grumbled into your shoulder and instinctively hugged you tighter. He came to you to feel free and forget some of the burdens that weighed on his shoulders, not for you to remind him who he was and that he wasn't supposed to be here. He was supposed to be in the council chambers, talking to his council about the next steps of the war or just doing something, but instead he sought comfort from you - a whore.

"My Darling? Sweetling? Precious?" you joked playfully instead, while stroking his back with your gentle hands. You had used all of these names with him before, but he had never admitted which one was his favorite or whether he found them all to be terrible. However, you always thought he liked them better than some respectful noble title that he didn't want to wear anyway.

One of his friends, Martyn, cleared his throat and patted the young black-haired man on the shoulders, as if to tell his king that there was still something to do before he could devote himself to his own satisfaction.

His head shot up again immediately, which messed up his silver hair a little, which was not a very unusual sight for him, and he put an arm protectively around your waist, while he looked right back at his drinking companions. "Right, right. Dove, we are looking for the madam. This young lad here needs bedding in, gently. I thought she was the perfect choice, don’t you agree?”

Your lover wanted to go with you in the direction of the private rooms, but you managed to hold him back by the arm, whereupon he clumsily bumped back into you in his drunken state, but you were already used to that.

"Madame Sylvi is busy right now."

Aegon opened his mouth to reply, but thank the gods he was a little slower in his movements and reactions at the moment due to the influence of wine.

"However, I know someone else who would treat the boy well." You only had to snap your fingers once and one of the girls you had been sitting with on the sofas earlier came running over and quickly grabbed the boy's hand. She was a little younger than you, pretty, and talented. In your eyes, that was certainly better than interrupting the madam right now, especially considering who she was with in this very moment.

"You heard the woman. Go on, get going. And have fun!" Aegon called after the squire as he was being dragged into one of the back rooms by the whore you had called to help, whereupon he burst into loud, drunken laughter. You just rolled your eyes and shook your head, but a small glint within your gaze revealed how much you truly cared for the king no how much he meant to you.

It wasn't just the sack of gold he gave you after every night, or the sex that was important to you, but rather everything about him. You loved his loud laugh, the way he constantly sought your closeness, his urge to always touch you, you loved his jests just as much as the moments when he showed you how vulnerable and broken he truly was, when he just leaned on your shoulder and cried and you stroked his back and told him how good he was being and that he would always be enough for you. That was what you loved. You loved him.

"And what are we two going to do now?" you asked him, amused, to which he simply grabbed your hand in response and started to pull you along, while he didn't even look back at his friends, since you were everything that mattered to him. You were the only one who could ease his hidden pain.

Since he came here again and again especially for you, he knew his way around here like few other and knew exactly where the little alcoves were where two people could make themselves comfortable, be alone and spend time together. Luckily for the both of you, one at the beginning of the corridor had just become free, so you wouldn't run into a certain other Targaryen. You did not want an argument, not now.

As soon as Aegon had shut the curtain behind you both, he sighed and fell onto the soft mattress while you moved to lit the candles to make the atmosphere a little more pleasant. It smelled of candle wax and fire, but also of various perfumes and other fragrant oils that the previous guests had probably used before they had left again. You already knew that the hour he would spend with you would be either very nice or very heartbreaking. After all, you hadn't seen each other for two weeks and he certainly had much to talk about. You, on the other hand, could mostly only tell him the same stories about overzealous customers and strange preferences that the other women had told you about. Those talks didn't bore him, because he was sure that he would always be happy as long as you were with him.

For a moment you considered taking off your clothes and pulling him into your lap, but you decided against it when you saw that he was just staring into one direction, his good mood evaporating like a pile of ashes in the wind. You knew that look and it was usually never a good sign. He needed you. Now perhaps more than ever.

"Aegon?" you asked carefully and sat down next to him on the white sheets, which were a bit out of order and had stains in some places that you didn't want to think about too long.

"Come here, I need you," the king murmured and tugged at the ends of your robe, whereupon you chuckled and dropped down next to him on the round bed and immediately wrapped your arms around him and buried your head in the crook of his neck.

"I wish I could have been there for you. That night."

You knew the night he lost his son was a difficult subject and probably not what he wanted to talk about, or what he had come to you for, but you couldn't hold that thought back any longer. The other girls had told you how he had all the rat catchers hanged the next day and how hard it had been to watch the little prince's funeral march. You hadn't been there because you had things to do, but you weren't sure you would have watched it voluntarily either, because the regret would probably have eaten you alive.

All the time he spent with you, he could have spent with his children, but he was probably aware of that as well. But the regret didn't change his feelings for you, and you both knew that he would come back again and again and again. Sometimes you really believed he was as dependent on you as he was on dornish wine.

"They wanted Aemond, did you know that? It was supposed to be revenge for Rhaenyra's dead son, but because he wasn't there... because he wasn't there, they murdered my little son in his bed."

His grip on your waist tightened and you knew from his voice alone that he was close to tears, if they weren't already shining in his eyes. You would weep too if your child had been murdered, but you did not have one. A bastard would only hinder you from your work and you didn't want to lose your only source of livelihood, even if the thought of being a mother was one that often crossed your mind.

Especially if he would be the father...

"It's my brother's fault. It's all, all his fault. If it had not been for him, I would be far away from all this in the free cities or gods know where! I would not be king and my boy would still be alive!"

Aegon was sobbing now and you couldn't do anything but wrap your arms around him even more and listen to him speak, because if he didn't tell you, who else would listen to his thoughts? Certainly not his mother, not his brother anymore either, he rarely spoke to his sister-wife anyway and thus he only had you. You were the only one who always listened to him and who was always honest.

He wished he could have married you... You two could have lived a simple, beautiful life far away from King’s Landing, outside of Westeros. But neither of you were granted such a life. He was the king and you were just the whore he loved.

"Don't you have anything to say, love?"

You looked up from his shoulder and leaned over him so you could see his sad amethyst colored eyes and the tear that slowly made its way down his cheek, leaving a trail of wetness behind on his pale skin. You felt a brief urge to brush it away, but instead you let it fall and watched as the tear fell onto the velvet pillow that lay beneath his head, leaving a tiny black stain that would disappear in a matter of minutes. No one would ever know what you and the king did behind the curtain, but you knew that if you happened to be mentioned later on, history would describe you as nothing more than his mere mistress. Perhaps in this case you wanted to be forgotten entirely, for no writing would ever do justice to what you two had together.

The bond that bound you to each other was strong, but no one would ever know about it.

"What can I say, darling? There is nothing I can say except that I am deeply sorry, and I already did."

"Then don't say anything. Show me." As much as he tried to make it sound like a suggestion, it was a command. But you loved him too much to tell him that this was not the right way and that you were not exactly good for him. He wouldn't listen to you anyway. Two days later and he would be at your doorstep again. That's how it had always been and that's how it always would be. You would get gold for your efforts and he would kiss you goodbye and leave.

As always, you obeyed him and connected your lips with his. Two weeks without you had been too much for him. Aegon moaned into the kiss and pulled you closer to him, as close as humanly possible so that he could feel every feminine curve of your body pressed against his even though you were both still wearing your clothes.

Normally this would be the moment when he would turn you onto your back and rip those sheer robes from your body, but this time he did nothing of the sort and gave you full control.

Your tongue found its way into his mouth and you could still taste the heavy wine that was clouding his senses on his own tongue and it was clear that he had probably drunk a lot of before he had set foot in this establishment again, which you couldn't blame him for. If you had been in his place, you would probably have thrown yourself off one of the balconies of the Red Keep long ago, but he was stronger than that.

You kissed him desperately, pouring every emotion you had ever felt for him into that one kiss and he let it happen and he lost himself in it, he lost himself in you.

You managed to numb his senses better than anyone in the known world and perhaps that was another reason why he always found his way back to you in the end. But you let him in every time, which told him that you must feel for him too.

There were moments when he couldn't help but wonder if you were real. Not whether you existed, because he knew very well that you did, no, whether your affection for him was really genuine. Your smile, your laughter, the way you always sought his closeness whenever he was with you, and how gently you treated him all gave him the hope that you actually felt the same as he did, but he would probably never be sure. After all, you never refused his gold. Probably only then would he be sure that it was real.

Your gentle hands slowly brushed his coat from his shoulders and worked on the clasps of his tunic, believing that this was exactly what he wanted, because after all, he hadn't told you anything except that you should show him what you couldn't with words.

A short time later, you were both completely undressed and you moved your hips against his in a way that made his eyes flutter shut and left him gasping for air and groaning your name in pure bliss.

Fucking, alcohol and you were the only things that could distract him from being king or from wondering when the next time would be the stranger's shadow would fall upon his family and who it would be. It just couldn’t be you. If he lost you... he wouldn't know what to do.

Aegon was aware that none of this was good for him and that he should have stopped coming back to you years ago, but when you lay in his arms again a little later, breathing heavily, a light layer of sweat on your body and a happy, radiant smile on your face, he knew that no matter what happened, he would never let you go. You would always be with him, although unfortunately not as his wife, but he couldn't help his feelings and he wouldn't hide them from you.

"I love you," he whispered to you, his hand stroking your side soothingly and his head resting against yours.

"I love you too, Aegon."

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[oxydiane]

we talk a lot about how sasuke and naruto are so crazy about each other but there’s never enough attention on how the rest of the naruto cast Also thinks they are two fucking lunatics. like we are not alone on this. you have jiraiya telling naruto he needs to not go and chase a mf who tried to snatch his heart out his ribcage and naruto is like no i’d rather be a fucking moron for the rest of my life honestly. you have naruto leaving a mission and saying sory i cannot stay i need to go home and wait for sasuke and the fucking platypus looks at him ???? like he even had me confused where are you goin g to wait? ? why are you saying that like sasuke is coming back the fuck did i miss??? you have the kage summit arc which is just a whole bucket of ice being dropped onto you because you come in and immediately get slapped in the face by naruto letting himself be beat up because he won’t tell them where sasuke is??? like he has any fucking idea where sasuke is. and sai tries to make him come to his senses like naruto??? naruto WHAT ARE U DOING. it’s so bad they need an intervention. right after that naruto faces the raikage and gets on his knees saying i know my almost boyfriend almost killed your brother but i promise it wasn’t on purpose he was just being silly please don’t put a bounty on his head a war will literally ensue. and like. there’s LAYERS to this. 1. even RAIKAGE is like BOY what are you doing. STAND UP. 2. at this point you can count the people who like sasuke on the fingers of one hand like WHO is gonna start a war over him… naruto out there moving a war against a whole country by himself over his bf ok you go girl i guess. after this it gets even worse like gaara has to go up to him and be like SASUKE DOWSNT CARE ABOUT YOU. HE DOES NOT WANT YOU. and naruto just slaps his hand away in front of his family like rude?????? ignoring anything it is hilariouuusssss and then sai is like sorry. sakura lied to you they are actually off to kill sasuke and naruto gets a panic attack so severe he passes out. like i am not joking it was so bad his friends tried to kill sasuke behind his back. and then naruto escapes bedriddenment (is that a word?) after passing out from his panic attack to run and make sure NOBODY kills sasuke. like he’s on a RUSH leaping those trees he’s a boy on a mission. then after he gets there he’s like kakashi DO NOT TOUCH HIM. they launch themselves at each other bla bla gay monologues did you see what was in my heart and then. and then naruto is like. wait sasuke. and sasuke waits like sorry that’s such a little thing but it’s so funny to me like sasuke was just acting a lil murderous crazy manic wtv but naruto told him to wait and he waits. ok good boyfriend. anyways moving on naruto is like do you get it sasuke. if we fight again we will BOTH DIE! (everybody gets a ?????? bubble) i am the only one who can shoulder all that hatred. i will CARRY THE BURDEN OF YOUR HATRED AND WE WILL DIE TOGETHER! and . absolutely Everybody in that room just goes ???????????? what the FUCK is he TALKING ABKHT. everybody except sasuke. sasuke smirks and he’s like sure. they just talked about dying together and meeting each other in a different life where they’ll be free of their burdens and they’re just Fine and all ok smiling at each other and everyone is so fucking confused. like the entire supporting cast is with us side eyeing sasuke and naruto and thinking what in the everloving FUCK is WRONG WITH YOU????????