#i need a character to write ocean fic about Right Now . who should i write ocean fic about.
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stuck-in-the-ghost-zone · 1 year ago
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bathed in sound by cosmo sheldrake is my new theme song . if i was a character people would make playlists for that would need 2 be at the top of all of them. i want fanfics with all lowercase lyrics as the title. do u feel me.
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chasingpj · 2 years ago
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𝕩𝕖𝕟𝕚'𝕤 𝟙𝕜 𝕔𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕓𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟☺
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Thank you so much for the support all of you have given me since the beginning of my blog. It’s been so crazy experiencing this account grow and knowing my writing has been enjoyed by so many of you. I put off this celebration because I was debating if I should do one but I miss interacting with you guys and you all deserve it! You guys are the best and I'm excited for the fun we'll have! ♡♡
this celebration will go on from Friday, 3/24th to Sunday, 3/26th
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🎁 personalized letter from your favorite character (you can tell me about yourself and/or a situation and i'll write a short love letter for you from your favorite character. things to include: preferred pronouns, name, cabin, hobby, interests, personality, scenario, and who you want the letter to be written by!)
🏹 tell me anything about yourself (be sure to include your preferred name/pronouns, cabin, preferred weapon, your powers, personality type, your favorite characters in the series: romantically and platonically, literally any aspect of yourself or your personal ocs), and I'll give you a brief summary of what your years at CHB look like.
⭐️ send me a personal headcanon (it can be about a character, a concept/au, pjo as a whole, or my fic yg and i'll add on to it!)
✒️ ask for a blurb: (send me one of the prompts provided or an idea and i'll make short headcanons or write a 200ish-word blurb)
🎬 ask for a director's cut (ask me about anything I've posted! what inspired me? i can elaborate on a headcanon or one-shot, give sneak peeks, and answer questions about young god)
🍄 get to know me more! (feel free to ask me anything)
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don’t know what to request? here are 30+ prompts you can use!
disclaimer & reminder: i will cross out the quotes that have already been requested so just check back before sending it in. I will add more if i get lots of requests. i write romantically for percy, leo, jason, connor, and travis and platonically for annabeth and nico.
Dialogue Prompts
"If we lose this-" "It's just a game of Capture the Flag honey, it's not that serious-" "If we lose this, I'm divorcing you."
“I feel like I’ve stepped back in time.”
“Please tell me that we’re not stuck out here in your piece of shit car.”
"We can't take care of a baby."
“Don't even talk to me about this because I won't remember.”
“What is worse than death?”
“In another life, I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you.”
With time to kill and entertainment to have, you lay your hand on his and the new waltz commences.
“Tell me, what will you do when this is all over?”
“Do you ever think about what life would be like for us if things were different?”
“C’mon, we don’t really need to get up yet.”
“Can you remember how you died?”
“Act natural.”
“Is that blood?” “No?”
“Mom says if you blow up the house, she’s gonna put you up for adoption.”
“how is it that you always manage to look so handsome, even in [insert not-handsome looking clothes?”
“Excuse you, I am great at being a third wheel.”
“Apologize. Right now.”
“Don’t let this one go. he’s perfect for you."
“Pass the binoculars. Hurry!”
“Why did i have to end up partnered with you of all people?”
"Why are you wearing my skirt?"
"You're not getting sea sick, are you?"
"We're way too drunk for this."
"Watch how a professional does this."
Lyric Prompts
Photo album on the counter; Your cheeks were turning red. You used to be a little kid with glasses in a twin-sized bed and your mother's telling stories 'bout you on the tee-ball team /// All Too Well by Taylor Swift
I've been watching' you for some time. Can't stop staring' at those ocean eyes. Burning cities and napalm skies, fifteen flares inside those ocean eyes. Your ocean eyes. /// Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish
What if I told you none of it was accidental and the first night that you saw me, nothing was gonna stop me? I laid the groundwork and then, just like clockwork the dominoes cascaded in a line. /// Mastermind by Taylor Swift
Then you're drivin' me home and I don't wanna leave but I have to go. You kiss me in your car and it feels like the start of a movie I've seen before /// Ceilings by Lizzy McAlpine
I'm playing hooky with the best of the best. Pull my heart out my chest, so that you can see it too. I'm walking the long road, watching the sky fall. The lace in your dress tangles my neck, how do I live? /// Death of a Bachelor by Panic! At The Disco
Recount the night that I first met your mother and on the drive back to my house, I told you that, I told you that I loved ya /// Still into You by Paramore
In the car, I just can't wait to pick you up on our very first date. Is it cool if I hold your hand? Is it wrong if I think it's lame to dance? Do you like my stupid hair? Would you guess that I didn't know what to wear? I'm just scared of what you think. You make me nervous so I really can't eat. /// First Date by Blink-182
Remember when you hit the brakes too soon? Twenty stitches in a hospital room. When you started crying, baby, I did too but when the sun came up, I was looking at you. /// Out of the Woods by Taylor Swift
And if you have a minute, why don't we go talk about it somewhere only we know? This could be the end of everything so why don't we go somewhere only we know? /// Somewhere Only We Know by Keane
I have kissed honey lips, felt the healing in her fingertips. It burned like fire, this burning desire. I have spoken with the tongue of angels. I have held the hand of a devil. It was warm in the night. I was cold as a stone but I still haven't found what I'm looking for. /// I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For by U2
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im-a-king-baby · 7 months ago
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Hi lovely! Anything to help a fellow writer procrastinate!!! 😂💜💜💜 How about 3, 7, 10, 19 and 33 because you deserve it!
Seriously, I love ELYN so much, so grateful that I found it even if the cliffhangers are insane. It's such a gift that someone like you - with your extensice experience - graced our little fandom with your talent, thank you so much!!! 💜💜💜 So an extra question is will you write more?
I procrastinated so hard it's a week later 🤣 <3 Thank you for our lovely words and I definitely did not intend to leave some of those cliffhangers for quite so long...
3 -How would you describe your writing style? Navigating with cardinal directions and vibes.
Also: copious run-on sentences, grammar is for other people, if the rhythm and the feel is right it doesn’t matter if it’s not ‘technically correct’.
7- Your favourite ao3 tag.
Unsurprisingly band AU/musician AU, give me all the touring/songwriting/stage drama stories.
10 -Top three favourite fic tropes. Soulbonding, enemies to lovers (who are maybe still enemies), werewolves
19 - Share a snippet from a wip without giving any context for it.
[angst warning] “You need to tell him to give you space,” Ayub says, like it’s that easy.
“I know,” Simon says. “I know. But when I’m around him -” He doesn’t know how to explain it. If he knew he’d have something to put into google that isn’t, ‘should having a soulmate feel like drowning?’ And then he might have to do something, instead of walking back into Wilhelm’s arms every time because at least when Wilhelm is kissing him he isn't thinking for a little while.
Ayub catches his hand, Simon glances down in surprise to see that he was scratching at his own wrist, red marks drawing lines between the constellation of black stars now permanently etched on his skin.
But it’s fine. It’s all fine.
“It’s like… when he’s in front of me nothing else matters. I love him, I’m in love with him, and everything else just melts away.” He tries to smile. It’s good, it’s great. He’s in love.
Ayub doesn’t take the bait. “It’s not ‘everything else’ though, Simme. It’s you.”
33 - Give your writing a compliment. That writing sure does use allll 26 letters of the alphabet.
Compliments are hard. I guess I think my writing is good at showing emotion through the rhythm of it and through having realistic characters doing their best on all sides of the conflict? Also I have many cool plot ideas (that I never have enough time to write)
Bonus - Will you write more?
Difficult question. I have not really written much this year so far (caught up in moving house, buying furniture, sailing oceans, working full time) but I am hoping to get back into it in winter. I have a novel I want to finish, I have a bunch of simon-pov ELYN bits that I feel like I should do something with but I don't know what, I would like to do another long fic in this fandom (soulbonds or werewolves or post S3 Euro road trip??) but I am not a fast writer and the novel is currently at the top of the list (novels are hard :( )
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billsfangearring · 2 years ago
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Monthly Fandom Faves: February 2023 (ALOTO Edition)
I have Jess/Lupe recs again this month! The hyperfixation continues!
I didn't read as much as I normally do in February because I wrote something like 7.5k words this month and that's approximately 7.5k more than my usual. However, I do have two fics I'd like to highlight in addition to pointing all of you to the collection of Jess/Lupe Valentine's sprint week fics! I'm way behind on reading and commenting but there are some really excellent, creative takes on the prompts in there so I encourage you to check them out. :)
(If you'll indulge a little self-rec, in my opinion this is the best 250-word ficlet I wrote for the sprints week.)
Back to our regularly scheduled programming... fics reviewed below the cut, from longest to shortest:
some of us just had to fight (for even being looked at right) by @talaricula
an ocean of violets by @were-sailing
some of us just had to fight (for even being looked at right) by talaricula
(Jess/Lupe, E, 60k)
Jess and Lupe know too well how the world looks at people like them. But then they meet, and they see each other. This is an exploration of Jess’ and Lupe’s relationship throughout Season 1, as they become friends, get wildly horny for each other, fall in love, and finally do something about it. This fic is as canon compliant as humanly possible, and is built out of a mix of scenes from the show told from their perspectives, expanded upon background moments, and plenty of missing scenes.
I should probably start this little review by 'fessing up to the fact I'm an absolute weirdo who watched episodes 1-6 in September and episodes 7-8 this month. That's relevant because I read chapters 1-6 of this fic in October but didn't let myself read chapters 7-11 until now, because some of us is the ultimate love letter to Jess and Lupe's canon story. I can't comprehend how much careful study of the show must have gone into writing this, because talaricula masterfully weaves together every moment Jess or Lupe is on screen—even out of focus in the background—with introspection and missing moments in a way that feels fresh and fascinating and not like a rehash of canon. Jess and Lupe are both good people trying their best while still being flawed and human, and the POV switches highlight their strengths and blind spots. Queer themes abound, from personal identity to solidarity on the team and community in Rockford and in the history the story draws on to flesh out Jess and Lupe's world. I'm shy but I'll close by saying that the NSFW portions are very well-written and add a lot to the emotional arc of the fic!
She’s angry, in the uniquely tender way that Jess’ anger so often is. It’s like a fire – lethal when aimed at you, warm and bright when wielded for you.
an ocean of violets by weresailing
(Jess/Lupe, M, 6k)
It would be Jess’ first time seeing her house. Jess’ first time seeing her. Lupe stared at her reflection in the blank screen of the TV and wondered how much more time she needed before she might feel ready for it. It's the 80s; Lupe and Jess meet via a personal ad.
Concision and precision of language is something I strive for in my own writing, and weresailing puts on an absolute masterclass in both in an ocean of violets. Every word and punctuation mark is deliberate, resulting in prose that's arresting in its directness and that pairs perfectly with the solitary and repressed Lupe's POV. Lupe's personality and lifestyle are sharply defined within the first few paragraphs, and the brief but memorable hints at her backstory that are sprinkled in throughout the fic make her feel even more real. The churning, visceral knot of Lupe's conflicted emotions about herself, Jess, and their meeting is wrenching and relatable, and the ending holds onto both characters' hope and uncertainty instead of rushing through to a neat happily-ever-after. I was excited to read this as soon as I saw the summary because what a premise for a historical AU, and it blew past all my expectations and then some.
Lupe felt thirty-four and seventeen at once, standing next to a woman in her home and wishing she would come closer, so Lupe didn’t have to be responsible for it.
--
All of my ALOTO fic recs can be found here. I hope you find something you like!
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invisibleraven · 2 years ago
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All at once everything is different
Written for the Year of the OTP challenge prompt: Whenever I look at you...
So when I saw the list of prompts for the OTP 2023 challenge, I decided that I wanted to participate. My plan is to write a short little fic every month using one of the prompts. I am definitely going to go through different pairings, because I am not one to play by the rules, but I had to start the year out right with my true OTP; Rulie!
AO3 Link!
Reggie groans as his loud alarm clock blares, and he fumbles for the button, slamming his fist down on it to make the incessant beeping stop. “Alright already, I heard you, I’m not deaf,” he grumbles. Easing himself up and stretching, feeling his joints pop. He slides his feet off the bed, finding his slippers with minimal effort and whistles. Ellie trots up beside him, licking at his hands, and he gives her head scratches in return.
He goes through his routine, coffee and toast before a shower, then into his favourite outfit. He has a date with Julie today, and she had commented how good he looked in it a while back, so he sticks with it. The flannel is a little worn, but super soft, and he likes how the rips in his jeans keep him from getting overheated.
Soon enough, he and Ellie are on the move, and Reggie smiles as the cool ocean breeze ruffles his hair and tickles his face. He can smell the salty air and the sugar as the cotton candy stall opens up. He’s tempted to stop and get one, but Julie will know and they have lunch plans.
He keeps going, Ellie trotting by his side, her harness firm in his hand as the noon day sun starts to warm him through. “Beautiful day for a date with our favourite girl right El?”
Ellie just barks in reply, but that’s enough for Reggie.
“Reggie!”
He can’t help but smile when Julie’s voice reaches his ears, quickening his pace to reach her all the faster. She giggles when she’s in his arms, letting him twirl her around and then pull her into a kiss, warmer and brighter than the LA sun.
“Hey gorgeous,” Reggie whispers as they pull apart. “Missed you.”
“We had a date two days ago!” Julie says, then leans down to pet Ellie who had been panting patiently at their sides.
“Too long,” Reggie declares. “How much longer until your lease is up again?”
“Three months and you know it,” Julie replied, linking their elbows. “Now come on, I’m famished.” She starts pulling him down the sidewalk, going on about the new dim sum place that opened up.
“You’re not gonna try to make me use chopsticks again are you?” Reggie groaned. “You know I’m useless with those things darlin’.”
“Unless you’re making yourself into a walrus,” Julie snarked and Reggie offered a sheepish smile. “No, we can use forks.”
The rest of the walk was filled with Julie catching him up on school, lamenting her Curriculum prof who was a harsh grader and rather unhelpful when needed. “Thank goodness this is my last semester,” Julie said with a sigh. “Then I get to go through the fun of job hunting.”
“Don’t play, I know the school you did your internship with already offered you a spot for the fall,” Reggie teased. “Those kindergarteners aren’t gonna know what hit them.”
“How’s the podcast going?” Julie asked.
“Not bad,” Reggie hummed. “We just finished editing the episode last night, so it should be out soon. Luke is pretty stoked about this one, he even wrote a song for my character to sing.”
“Luke and his songs,” Julie said. “That boy is a rock star in his soul no matter what.”
“I keep telling him to send his songs to a label but he says he’d rather use them for us and share them for our subscribers. After everything… he doesn’t think he can be a star.”
“You all could be,” Julie replies, “You all play, Luke’s songs are so good. You could be legends.”
“I’m happy enough as I am,” Reggie says and presses a kiss to her temple. “Here with you and Ellie.”
“Charmer,” Julie whispered, pulling him for a sweet and simple kiss. “We’re here by the way.”
The bell over the door chimed as they entered, a host greeting them. “Oh I’m sorry, we don’t allow anim- oh, my apologies. Let me show you to your table.”
“You in a spicy mood today?” Julie asked as they were sitting at their table, Ellie sitting by Reggie’s feet near the wall so she was out of the way.
“Always with you gorgeous,” Reggie replies, giving her a crooked grin.
Julie stifled a giggle and told their host what they wanted, plus a request for forks. All the while the toe of her shoe caressed his ankle, a small loving touch. Or showing she was also in a spicy mood which meant good things for Reggie that afternoon.
The food was delicious, just the right amount of spice that it was hot but not overpowering. Julie probably could have handled more spice, given her heritage, but Reggie was happy enough with a lower Scoville count.
Before long they were back outside, and Julie linked their arms once more. “Walk it off then back to yours for a snuggle?” she proposed.
“Sounds divine angel.”
They had just entered the boardwalk when Reggie heard them.
“Look at that babe!”
“Yeah, and the freak who can’t even see what a fine piece she is!”
“Doesn’t deserve something he can’t appreciate.”
“Hey baby, why don’t you ditch the dog and come walk with a real man?”
‘Ignore them,” Julie whispered, snuggling further into his side, but their pace picked up as the idiots hooted and hollered at her.
But Reggie couldn’t ignore them.
Sure, it hadn’t been the first time he’d heard whispers about him and Julie. About how he had landed and kept her. Or the sneers when he, Luke, and Alex went anywhere together. His whole life, people had talked about him behind his back, and each cutting jab stayed with him. But this time.. For some reason, it caused him to doubt. He was sure there was a sullen expression on his face as Julie pulled him inside the house, sitting him down.
“You’re still thinking about it, aren't you?” she asked, not needing to clarify, and Reggie nodded. “Why cariño?”
“What if they’re right?” he asked, his voice a miniscule whisper. “What if I don’t deserve you?” A small sob escaped. “Julie you’re gorgeous and I’m…”
“You stop that right now Reginald Peters,” Julie said, laying a finger over his lips. “Do you know what I see whenever I look at you?”
“A loser in dark glasses who can’t even see you?”
“No. I see your kind heart,” Julie replied, laying her hand over his chest. “Your brilliant, creative brain,” a kiss to his forehead then, “your strength and passion,” each fingertip received the caress of her lips, one by one, “those adorable freckles,” Julie nuzzles their noses together, and gently takes off his glasses. “And those eyes, the colour of springtime. I know that means nothing to you, but I always feel alive when I see them. I see you Reggie. Not your blindness, not whatever else you think you lack. Just you, the man I adore, who loves me like there’s no tomorrow.”
Reggie lifted his hands, cupping her cheeks. Felt a stray tear and swiped it away. Let his fingers trace over the shape of her brow, the scrunch of her nose, the bow of her lips, the soft curve of her jaw. “I see you too,” he whispered before pulling her into a kiss. It was deep and lush, almost all consuming as their mouths met, tongues dancing around each other before growing smaller, to a peck, a series of pecks before finally pulling away. Reggie rested his forehead against hers. “I still don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m thankful everyday for you.”
“I’m thankful for you too,” Julie said, running her fingers through his hair. Ellie whined and placed her head on his knee, causing them both to giggle and pet her. “And we’re both grateful to you girl.”
Reggie unclipped Ellie’s harness and vest, letting her dash about the room, laughing when she brought him her favourite ball. He turned to Julie then, smiling wide. “You wanna help me tire her out so we can snuggle uninterrupted?”
“Thought you’d never ask.”
Julie opened up the backdoor, and shooed them both outside, stopping to adjust the picture of the boys on the wall; Reggie in his shades, Luke in his wheelchair, and Alex with his hearing aids on full display, signing something to the photographer. She lingered on Reggie, his wide, happy grin, and then turned to the yard where it was out in full force once more.
“Come on Julie!” he called, and she went off running. She wanted those snuggles, and maybe after… they could talk about seeing where the future would lead them if she broke her lease just a few months early. She knew Reggie was her future, and she couldn’t wait to see what it had in store for the both of them.
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indigostars · 2 years ago
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fic writer interview
this looks so interesting and also took me forever. thanks for the tag, kasey! @kckenobi
name/nickname: sarah!!
fandoms: mainly star wars, though i have written for avatar: the last airbender, and i’m hoping to one day continue! i dabbed a bit in criminal minds and the mcu once, but those fics shall forever remain unfinished in my docs :)
two shots?: i have exactly one, which is bleeding an ocean of permanent life. it was written for angstpril and is about our resident sad boy, obi-wan kenobi, because there truly is nothing better than that!
most popular multi-chapter fic?: i’ve written exactly two (technically three, as moonlight sonata was a collab and i’m still so proud of everyone who pitched in because wow we really created something beautiful!) but chasing out the darkness is the most popular. actually, out of everything i’ve written, it’s the most popular thing i’ve ever posted and i’m still stunned that people kudos/bookmark it, especially considering how much i’ve grown as a writer since then!
actual worst part of writing: writing
how you chose your titles: i listen to songs that i think will fit in nicely with the vibe i’m trying to convey, and then i chew my fingernails looking for that very specific lyric. this usually happens at 1am instead of sleeping.
do you outline?: HAHAHAH no. i should, because it would make my life infinitely easier and the pros outweigh the cons. however i have the attention span of a goldfish so when i get the urge to write, i just write. the characters can’t go off script if there is no script!
ideas you probably won't get around to, but wouldn't it be nice: i started a zygerria au that i’ve run out of steam on (though mainly due to writers block than actual interest) so it’s been on the back-burner until i get an “aha!” moment. i also really want to start writing bad things happen bingo again, but my brain is currently making the tv static noise when it comes to ideas. this is mainly due to the lack of time and mental fatigue that is known as grad school. but i promise they will get done eventually.
callouts @ me: “this is too many em-dashes… but does it REALLY count as a run-on sentence if there’s em-dashes in there? oh my god stop using so many commas. why are you replacing those commas with em-dashes. stop it. stop it now. this is your 63rd em-dash—”
best writing traits: i’m fairly confident in saying that i’m very good with writing in the character’s voices and getting their mannerisms. it’s most definitely not perfect, but it’s the thing i’m most proud of so i’m giving myself some positive credit
spicy tangential opinion: maybe not “spicy” per se, but it has to be said. if you don’t like a fic, or you started a fic that you no longer like, you don’t need to tell the author about it. the back button is right there. go use the door. the author is aware that not everyone is going to enjoy their fic. they’ve made peace with that. don’t act surprised or self-righteous when the author kicks you out of their playground because you’re the one who walked in with a backhand (or straight up rude) comment 🫶🏻
tags: @stolen-pen-name23 @skywalker-tano-kenobi @the-13th-battalion @delless03
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sorryimananti-romantic · 5 months ago
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everyone wake tf up. LOREN HAS RELEASED HER FIRST ONESHOT AND ONE HELL OF A ONESHOT AT THAT! A MONSTER ONE SHOT you literally beat me at my game with this one LOL (traumatic flashbacks from the wc/paras you know what)
i literally have so much admiration for you and this fic. the way you wrote this- i don't think you realise how healing it was for you babes. you coming back to work and cheering up when we talked about surfers :')) i think i subconsciously healed from surfers too (watch me call this surfers bc that's what's stuck with me lmao) but yeah. this was one hell of a trope/fic to start your oneshot journey with-
and you did it so, so well. literally in awe whenever i watched you write and come up with such poetic phrases and you know me you know how much i would pause just to watch you write. you simultaneously inspired my writing style too so if my future works are just a tad bit poetic than usual, it's thanks to you :')) literally i learned so much from you. and i'm so so proud of you, i can't put it into words enough. i loved this whole journey of planning this and bringing this to manifestation with you, supporting this fic and just everything. i think when we look back after a while (bc god knows we're so sick of surfers for now AHAHAHAHAHA) it's gonna be our golden hour. (you writing surfers, me writing [redacted] and trying different things with my oneshots.
before i get any more sentimental, lemme copy paste my notes straight from google notes LMAO this was my first time and im apologising for the mess of an essay but i needed to say everything and i could say just as much more (how am i suddenly good with words) SPOILERS AHEAD!
OMG your first summer taking the form of the skinny dimpled boy THAT'S SUCH CUTE THE IMAGERY OF THE INTRO SCENE RAHHH UGH SO CUTE
the next summer the highschool one is so cute. them being so excited to race to the ocean and just playing on the beach and san watching the surfer and being like yes. this is who i want to be. AND THE SUMMER MOTIF AT THE END :'))
omg the goodbye and the HUG YOU DESCRIBE IT SO PERFECTLY OMG GO WRITE A NOVEL ATP and reader being like im not gonna cry i dont want my vision blurring AND THEN CRYING RIGHT AFTER. also i need that playlist link.
RAHHH HOT YUNGI VIDEO CALL CAMEOS AND THEN THEY SPAWN RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU AHAHAHAHA and omgg san doesn't shut up about you- namhae ;)
also their dynamic is so lovely right off the bat like i can already this trio is going to be iconic with you. the whole sandcastle scene was so them and so endearing :')) it really does feel like the start of a new chapter
omgg not the mother's favourite sunflower mingi THAT IS SO CUTE IM GONNA SOB oh but you and your puns loren 'want to be a rice friend' KJDFHGJKDFGH and then not him bobaeyenchanting you to stay (works like a magic doesn't it)
also aw mingi's backstory and you going you'll always have a home in namhae >:D i should be sad since i know what's coming but i love how you're gonna use this AHAHAHAHA
ALSO SUMMER TAKES A NEW MEANING IN THE SHAPE OF YOU FOUR RAHHHH I LOVE THIS SO MUCH
also omg not reader being bombarded with double the men like yes give me my hunky teezers keep em coming
LMAO I THINK I'VE TOLD YOU BEFORE BUT I ABSOLUTELY LOVE HJ IN THIS FIC WITH MY ENTIRE BEING LIKE HIM FLIPPING YUNHO AND BEING LIKE we keep you as our tall circus freak LIKE YES THE BEST CHARACTER INTRO SLAY LOREN AND JONGHO BEING LIKE here let me take all the heavy bags im a weightlifter gummy bear AND HONGJOONG WITH HIS RIZZ????? AND THE BANTER AHAHAHAHA I LOVE THIS YEOSANG TRYING TO BE A BUFFER AHAHAHAHAHA
omg not san throwing you into the ocean leading you to realise you may more than like him LOL
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 YES LOUDERRRR
yeosang draping his towel around me (reader) did something to me (me)
ALSO NOT THE EVIL TRIO JONGSANG AND YOU PLANNING TO MAKE HONGJOONG BROKE WITH JUST ICECREAM AHAHAHAHA and san being all :')) while watching them RAHHH this is so wholesome istg im getting sugar rush
omg smores tradition (again bc i know whats coming i can't help evil cackling but this is genuinely so wholesome)
OMG BRO?? THE ESSENCE OF YOUTH AND SUMMER AND THE WHOLE SCENE WITH THE TROLLEYS BEING BUMPER CARTS HAS TO BE MY FAV SCENE IN THIS WHOLE FIC LIKE IT GENUINELY PLAYED OUT LIKE A MOVIE AND I REREAD THIS SECTION SO MANY TIMES AHAHAHAHAHA I COULD STAY IN THIS MOMENT FOREVER
damn dont we all need facetime hwa (or real) telling us its okay to take a break :(( thanks for making me feel lonely again
OMG i don't know if you did this on purpose but the 'you wonder where san is' and then namhae's johnny popping in with his text damn i suddenly understand why san will be so mad at her AHAHAHAHAHAH AND LMAO NOT WOOYOUNG'S NOSY NOSE BEING LIKE WHO'S JOHNNY AND HJ JUST LIKE ME FR who tf is jonny AHAHAHAHAHAHA but omg san knowing your fav snack cravings im gonna SOB.
lmao with all of them feeling like you're watching a live sitcom is so very true
now, san is not just a dancer– he is the choreographer; the one who controls the ocean under his board. <--- fav line right here that's poetry madame also summers have turned so beautiful now with all eight of them :'))) and bro the whole section about familiarity never mind THIS is my fav section in the fic im actually crying
i need hongjoong to apply sunscreen on my back too-
but anyways yes hongjoong yes i love where this is going and NOT READER GETTING JELLY ASFAWK when a random girl was like hey is he single lIKE TAKE YOUR GRUBBY EYES OFF MY MAN SAN SHUT UP but also thank you for making her realise that maybe she does like them hueheuheuheu
OMG. i could live in this scene 'so what if i do' KDJFHGKJDFHG HONGJOONG SHUT UP UNLESS YOU'RE TAKING THIS SOMEWHERE SHUT UPPP and omgg this was so intimate but then the way the moment broke 😭 this was not a mistake pls 😭😭😭😭 here comes the beloved angst :D but also kinda makes sense if the flirtiest of them was like oops sorry then girlie was right for thinking she had no chance 😭 and the way she kinda feels at ease now my poor girl (the way i never know how to address reader can you tell)
not mingi subtly hinting the poly LMAO and then also being morally loyal towards yunho take pointers yuyu you done betraying him at every chance LOL and hwa evaded that question so good LMAO
YES HONGJOONG. feel the guilt. i'm honestly so pissed at him for doing that and pissed AT YOU LOREN for writing this (i mean that as a compliment) also haneul's character is so cute and wholesome in this fic i love her
also you incorporating the screaming at the sea scene AND HITTING ME WITH FEELS LEFT AND RIGHT UP AND DOWN DIAGONAL AND STRAIGHT
and here comes the little shit johnny AHAHAHAHAHAHA IM SO DEAD I HATE HIM SM FROM WHAT I'VE READ BEFORE and now i'm reading it again oof (i love you johnny suh just not here) kinda cute how they got together tho like mans made the effort it seems also stop with the poetry '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.' like write my fics atp ma'am i bow to you (pls write the leaders for me pls pls pls) (also if i start writing more poetically it will be your influence i know i already have so thank you for making me a better writer through /your/ writing <3)
aw mingi :(( im glad he has the boys but now i feel sad for what's about to come thank you for hurting all of us loren :)
THERE'S A MAN STANDING BY YOUR SIDE AND IT'S NOT ONE OF THEM YESSSSSSSSSS UGH HIT ME RIGHT IN THE KOKORO THATS HEARTBREAK BEFORE THE ACTUAL HEARTBREAK BRO
oh it's them your boyfriend makes a noise- OF JEALOUSY. J FOR JEALOUSY J FOR JOHNNY. and yes hongjoong feel a little guiltier if you had /kissed/ we literally wouldn't be here right now (i'm so angry but also wooyoung is such a mood in these scenes im dying)
ah the tension in these scenes is so palpable my god. you wrote this so well babes ahahaha im sobbing literally johnny being an ass the boys trying to be civil repeat repeat 'she likes the chocolate ones' yeah stuff you johnny. tell him san LOOUDERRRR. ('i like both' what a way to ruin the moment 😭😭 but kudos to san for making it okay <3 and there comes jelly johnny again lawrd save me)
ommg that part about how they boys' dynamics have changed is so lovely. fav part :')) and then it follows with how you're an outsider ugh my hart my sole
omgg not johnny's nosy ass phonecalls interrupting the precious mingi talk ugh the angst is angsting so good here and omgg yunho misses the girl he has fallen in love with :((( and omg right at this moment mingi's tunnel started playing so im so ;-; rn AHAHAHA imcrying the chorus started at 'guess he takes priority over us now' EVERYONE NEEDS TO EXPERIENCE THIS THIS IS HOW THE ANGST ANGSTS.
also im sorry johnny but thats such a bad lie 😭 just admit you're jelly- and ah here we go 'i don't like the way they look at you' oof. esp san OOF. BIG OOF. ALSO I LOVE THE PART WHERE READER DOESNT SAY ILY BACK OMG
omg the fight with the boys. wooyo and hongjoong reacting brashly and then there's san with his calm threat TELL HIM. AND OMG BABES DID YOU REALLY WRITE THIS SCENE DFKHGDKJFGH POP OFF DAMNNN SLAYYYY (im crying) yeo trying to protect the campfire (crying harder)
OMG THE HONGJOONG SCENE at least he's honest about his feelings for me KJDGHDJKGH YES THE COMEBACKS ARE COMEBACKING you would know something abour mistakes KDJFGHKSGH also omg the eyeroll when they said hongjoong wasn't feeling well IM DECEASED AHAHAHAAHAHAHA
omg you invited johnny and san being hurt and the blunt knife line this is true literature BUT OMG.
GIRLIE HAS MADE A MISTAKE. AND OMG MINGI'S LINE JFDHKHDFH THAT BROKE /ME/ ME AS A PERSON /ME/ this is hitting so bad now that i'm rereading from the start 😭😭 i hate this miscommunication but i love the angst what do i do
jongho is such a sweetheart for telling her that they're going back 😭<3 even tho it's already late lmao AND OMG HERE WE HAVE IT don't count on it JSDFGHKJDFHGJKFD AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA LOVE THATTTT and omg not johnny telling her now that they had a fight we're so over boy we're so over periodttt but omg. you against the world and the eight of them 😭 lowkey sounds scary help 😭😭
also im saying it again but i love haneul sm LOL like yes haneul teach her the basic skills of communications so she can teach the boys bc apparently all they need is communication 😭😭 and aw if they take a step back take two forward she's such a sweetheart 😭😭😭
and i love jongho sm KFJDHGKDHFG thank you for replying my bro and not him sneaking away to call her ahahaha that's so :'))) and i'm glad they're able to joke about jelly johnny lmao :')) the healing has begun <3
OMG HWA THE HUG RAHHHHHHHHH THE GROUP HUG AHHHHHHH and not jongho immediately third wheeling AHAHAHAHA ugh i can feel my heart literally healing thank you for writing this so beautifully
YES TELL WOOYOUNG TO LITERALLY SHUT UP FOR ONCE AHAHAHAHAHAHA but omg this apology ugh i love a good long apology and this was so well done everything addressed ughhh my heart. and the feelings! the confession :'))) and omg yeosang just tied the scarf around her neck but bro i felt every emotion UGH
OMG platinum mingi YESSSS come surf with us HELL YESSSS someone's gotta welcome me home :'))) AND OMG YUNHO ASH UGH LOREN STOPPP but anyways on a serious note i love how they're all warming up to each other again and my heart is healing again :')) literally healing-
oh wait. hongjoong didn't come. STUFF YOU LOREN.
omg san's hesitation feels so real ugh him being all restless and then all of those feelings fading away with a simple sannie x pipsqueak exchange that's so lovely. and san's apology is so well done ugh yes he's actually the main character of our heartbreak 😭 and summer still taking the form of the sweet dimpled boy 😭😭😭😭😭😭
AND RIGHT AFTER YOU SHUTTING THE DOOR IN HONGJOONG'S FACE FDKGDFJKGHK WHAT IS THIS ROLLERCOASTER LITERALLY MY HEART RATE IS 📉📈📉📈 UGH BUT yes how the turns have tabled. he honestly deserves that he's literally the second lead of this heartbreak. ALSO IM LITERALLY :(( READING HIS APOLOGY ughhh and now it's the nine of you against the world like it should be :D and san's love confession in his sneaky actions ugh im so happy
also not the round table conference about who's going to tell her that they all like her and like each other RAHHHHHH AHAHAHAHAHAHA but yes this scene is so wholesome i love it. AND NOT HJ REALISING HE'S THE ONLY ONE WHO CONFESSED GOODBYE. AND THE OTHERS REALISING HE DID FDJKGHKDJFHG ALSO YES YES YOUR HAND IN MARRIAGE ALL OF YOU YES
san literally should never hear the end of 'don't count on it' man single handedly cut me into shreds with that one (i know i came up with that line but its the execution of it that executed me)
omg the last scene it's my first time reading it and i literally have no words i just feel so happy and cosy ugh this fic did sth to me 😭 the golden hour reference is impeccable and the last line 😭 artistry right there. the little time skip and the routine and dynamic shifts concluding with the last day of summer in namhae- what a way to end this fic!
-marking the end of rant-
im literally :') right now. my heart was broken and healed again. literally in love with your writing. this is the fic i'm not even kidding, this is the poly fic. this is what poly is about. this is true coming of age. LITERATURE. it literally felt like watching a season with all the scenes being little episodes (write a script atp pls) and it was so vivid and full of life. i could literally create a playlist for this, scene by scene, and that's a high compliment coming from me LMAO
you did this so well, i think you're made for this genre atp. i hope you write even more wonderful things in the future- i know you will, but surfers will always be my weakness (and yours :') hehehe). super proud babes. <33
the essence of youth is summers with you
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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 ♡
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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.
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“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.
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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.
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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.
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“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.
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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.”
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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.
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“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.
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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.
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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.
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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?
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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?
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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.
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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.
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“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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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?
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“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.
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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.
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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.”
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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
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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.
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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.”
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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.
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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.
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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.
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“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.
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enbyboiwonder · 2 years ago
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I’m reading おばちゃんたちのいるところ (Where the Wild Ladies Are) with a book club, and I started writing a fic inspired by one of the stories lol the 2.43 brainrot is real
It’s the third story, ひなちゃん (Hina-chan), where a woman named Shigemi goes fishing one day (her first time fishing, to boot) and fishes up the intact skeleton (I assume held together by the same magic that allows its soul to take corporeal form at night?) of an Edo-period woman named Hina. That night, Hina’s ghost shows up in corporeal form in Shigemi’s room to give thanks for dragging her body out of the river. Her ghost is also covered in river muck, as if it had been down there along with her body, and Shigemi bathes her. Every morning, Hina disappears, and every evening, she comes back, just as dirty as that first time, and so the ritual repeats. The two end up becoming lovers, and also they’ll bathe together after they’ve washed the grime off of Hina.
So since it’s fishing, of course I had to use the characters from 途中下車の海 (The Sea at the Stopover). Hase is in Shigemi’s role, and since he’s kind of a disaster, it’s been pretty fun so far. But also, he’s just fun to write and to put into Situations, in much the same way Yuni is. Masu is the friend who took Hase fishing (Koga’s married to Masu; she’s also the reason Hase’s even friends with him in the first place lol). Which means Hiramasa, of course, is in Hina-chan’s role, though I haven’t worked out how exactly he died and made it into the river. I may also have to reread that part of the original story, as I don’t remember any of the details.
After her last boyfriend, whom she lived with and who is now her neighbor, Shigemi decided that she was tired of men (and Yoshi that he was tired of women, though from how he says something about wishing he could find a gal like Hina, he hasn’t turned to men, he just doesn’t wanna date right now) and also that she didn’t want to live with anyone. But it’s one thing to decide you’re tired of men, and another to actually date a woman. If you’re not capable of experiencing attraction toward women, then it’s not gonna work out. You can be close friends and cohabitate, of course, but you can’t be lovers—although Shigemi does seem to be bi (or lesbian and past relationships were comphet), and she’s definitely attracted to Hina and not just in admiration of her beauty, so Hina’s offer of “bedroom companionship” works out.
But yeah that was the idea that birthed this. Hase just doesn’t want to date women! That doesn’t mean he’s gay! Except he discovers that, in his case, yes it does mean that.
I’m also keeping some elements of The Sea at the Stopover. Though instead of being banned from jūdō for the time being due to his stubbornness, he’s in a slump; and the going fishing is deliberate: Koga and Masu suggest he needs a change of pace (which he’s strongly against—at least this particular one—though his mouth agrees without any input from his brain, like how it invited him along fishing with Hiramasa in the original despite him wanting nothing to do with actual fishing club activities). There’s also the being squeamish of worms, the accidentally jabbing himself in the thumb with a fishing hook, and the thinking he had hooked a big one but it was actually something else (a brocaded carp [this is the ocean, ya silly] but it’s a marine goby; Masu was actually the one who caught the boot on that last day).
I don’t know whether Hiramasa’s skeleton should be the only thing Hase catches that day, or if I should keep him catching a goby (ハセ caught a ハゼ lol), especially since ハゼ refers to all gobies in general, not just the kind he caught in the novella. I don’t know if Masu likes puns and dad jokes, that was Hiramasa’s line, but it would work in this with Hase finding him annoying, since he doesn’t like puns and the like. Just like I don’t know if Koga likes fishing, but she does in this so we get that Hase hasn’t been dating for a while and has given up on it/women—he’s dumbfounded that Masu took her on fishing dates lol he’s like, I know I’ve been out of the dating scene for a while, but why?
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psychedelic-ink · 2 years ago
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Alright, it’s Dieter so consider…his and hers matching butt plugs.
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I love this and I love your brain. This wouldn't fit in the plot I had in mind but I liked it so much that I wrote a drabble <33 I laughed so hard when I saw this first thing in the morning and the gif makes it even funnier dfvfdvd
ngl I blushed while writing this dfvfdv I've never really written anything like this before so it's a first for me, enjoy !
lover of mine.
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pairing: dieter bravo x fem!reader
genre: smut, pwp don't look at me
word count: 1.8k
summary: you got dieter his & hers butt plugs as a joke, how were you supposed to know he would bring them out a month later, telling you that the two of you should use them for the premiere.
warnings: butt plugs, switch!dieter vibes but leaning towards more sub in this fic, public s.ex (no one sees), anal play (for both involved), ass eating & fingering (giving), dieter calling you baby a lot, dirty talking
requests open for pedro pascal characters, moon knight & peter parker 💌
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You bought them as a joke. Dieter absolutely loved gag gifts so got him his and hers butt plugs for Valentine’s day. He had a laugh. You had a laugh. Then the gift was forgotten, placed in a box and shoved into the bottom of Dieter’s messy closet. 
That happened about a month ago. 
So when Dieter strutted into the bathroom with a crumpled box in hand while you were applying your lipstick…needless to say you were confused. He opened it with a smirk,  your eyes witnessing the two shiny plugs inside, one having a pink heart shaped jewel and the other having a round blue one. While you marveled at the toys he said that he finally thought of the perfect place to use your gift. 
“We don’t have time for this. Don’t we need to head to the premiere soon?” 
“Exactly.” 
Now you stare at him from the corner. Shifting from one leg to another as you take a sip of champagne. This is the party, after the party. You’re already pretty liquored up, head mildly spinning as you watch Dieter who is talking to one of his co-actors. You devour him with your gaze. You do adore his bathrobes but the man always looked good in a suit– Well, now that you think about it he is technically wearing something similar to a bathrobe. 
The dark purple satin button up shirt hugs his body in a way you know that he finds uncomfortable, he thinks it’s unflattering, but you simply love the way the softness of his stomach comes out and love the way you can clearly see the curve of his waist. On top of the shirt, he wears a long black coat with white details running across his sleeves and the parting of it. His hair is slicked back and you want nothing more than to run your fingers into the dark locks, messing them up in the process. 
You continue to watch him, heat growing between your legs as the butt plug shifts. Fuck, you really want him. How long was this party going to last again? 
Dieter seems to be handling it better than you. At least he’s able to hold a conversation. But from moment to moment you see him wince, blood rushing to his cheeks whenever he moves or someone hugs him. A faint moan slips past your lips. You imagine how his cock must be leaking right now, the plug barely grazing against the bundle of nerves. Slick wets the inside of your thighs, heart pounding madly in your chest. You quickly place your glass on top of the nearest surface you find. You really need to pull yourself together. This was nor the time nor the place to be dripping like an unfixed sink– 
Then your eyes meet his. A knowing gaze, the corners of his lips curling as he raises his glass towards you. 
Your stomach drops. You can’t do this. You can’t wait to go home. 
Parting the crowd like Moses did for the ocean, you reach for Dieter and grab his wrist. You don’t greet the other actors, you’re not even sure if your brain is processing their presence. Exchanging a brief glance with Dieter, your eyes shift to the nearest door. 
“Emergency,” you mumble before you proceed to tug him toward, what you’re hoping, to be the exit. 
When you’re finally away from the crowd, you feel like you can breathe again. The doors close, muffling the noise, and you crash your lips with Dieter’s in a bruising kiss. With a groan, you press him up against the wall, hands roaming across the strong frame of his body. He smiles against your lips, a large hand coming down to the curve of your ass and gently pressing the heart shaped butt plug. 
You break away with a wanton moan, your eyes unfocused as you grind against him, cunt fluttering, begging to be filled. 
“Fuck, baby. How on earth are you this worked up? How much did you have to drink?” 
You hush him by pressing your lips together once again. He licks the inside of your mouth, rolling the skirt of your dress all the way up to your waist. His thick fingers slide under your underwear and feel the jewel with the tips of his digits. Sucking your tongue, he turns it, your nerves electrified, you moan openly into his mouth. His other hand grabs a fistful of your hair, craning your neck back, he forces you to look at him between heavy lashes. 
“Are sure about this– We’re not exactly hidden,” 
You quickly look around, only your eyes moving. He was right, you thought this was an exit but it was a hall. A quite large one at that, but the lights had been turned off so you assume no one planned on using it tonight. 
“It’ll be fine,” you groan, eyes rolling back when he begins to shallowly thrust the plug in and out. “I-I want to see you too– This isn’t fair,” 
“Anything for you,” 
Dieter lets go of the plug and undoes the buttons of his pants, your stomach churns with excitement as he lowers both his trousers and boxers. You immediately wrap your hand around his length, smiling with delight as he sucks in a breath. Pressing your thumb into the slit, you suck the sensitive skin of his neck. 
“Can you turn around for me?” 
“W-What?” 
Looking up at him, you pout. 
“I said I wanted to see you, didn’t I?” 
“You did…but I thought–” 
He cuts himself off with a choked moan, you grin as your hands continue to gently squeeze and release his heavy balls. 
“Please…” you whine. 
“Fine, fine– Jesus, woman,” 
You grin as he turns, pulling off the coat, you let it pool to the ground and roll his shirt up. Leaning forward, you start to pepper his back with wet, open mouthed kisses, tongue leaving a wet trail as you go down. His whimpers send a spike of arousal down your body, your own moans starting to up in volume. You end the journey by pressing your lips firmly against his right buttcheeks, giving it a nice bite before pulling back. 
The blue jewel shimmers under the dim light. Dieter looks absolutely gorgeous like this; his legs spread and hole twitching around the thickness of the plug. Slowly, you grab the end of the plug and turn it, in a much similar fashion he’d done to you, and relish in the way he moans, his hips stuttering forward. Your mind trapped in a fog of lust, all you can focus on is his cute whimpers. Your cunt drips as you press your lips against the plug, kissing right under it. Dieter takes a sharp inhale, his head turning towards you as his nails scrapes against the wall. 
“Can I taste you?” you ask, lips moving against the plug. 
He nods, cheeks burning as he turns his gaze back ahead. With a wide smile, you slowly thrust the plug in and out as you slide your tongue against Dieter’s quivering hole. Your hand slides to his front and you begin to stroke him, coating the precum all over his length. 
“F-Fuck– Baby, I won’t last,” he breathes out. 
“Who says I want you to?” you hum, licking around the plug. “Cum for me, movie star,” 
Dieter groans at the name, he breaks down, moaning and whispering how hard he’s going to fuck you later on as he fucks your fist. You try to time his thrusts with the plug while tracing your tongue around the rim but it’s proving to be more difficult than you thought. Suddenly he grabs your other hand and placing his cock between your palms he holds them in place as he ruts between them. 
“Don’t fucking get distracted,” he growls between pants. “J-Just, I’m so close– Your tongue feels so good–” a moan rips from his throat, you feel precum dripping between your fingers. “Take the damn plug out, I-I need you to touch– fuck–” 
You want to be cheeky and ask him how to remove it when both your hands are occupied, but you’ve always had a soft spot for him begging so you don’t. Instead, you carefully place your teeth around the jewel and pull it out. He whines at the loss, but it quickly turns into a moan when you push your tongue between the tight muscle. 
“Shit–” 
You thrust your tongue a couple of times before pulling back, a string of saliva following as you nibble the plumpness of his ass. He’s close. You try not to think about how loud he’s being, or if anyone can hear you or not, instead you focus on the way his cock throbs between your wet palms. 
“Dieter sweetie,” you mutter. “I need at least one hand if you want me to do what you want me to do,” 
“R-Right,” 
Dieter let’s go both your hands, allowing you to move your left hand along his shaft while you use the other one to play with his pretty hole. It glistens with your spit. With a grin, you push in a finger as you place kisses all over his flesh. His hips slow down, legs trembling as you fill him up inch by inch. 
“You’re so tight,” you moan, eyes clouded with lust. “I can’t believe it, you’ve been walking around with a plug all damn night– How can you still be so fucking tight?” 
He replies with a whimper and you don’t ask again. With full concentration, you wiggle your finger around searching that special spot that you know is going to have him screa–
“Yes!” he cries out, he slides against the wall, pushing his ass further out. “Please baby, please please please–” 
Shit, you might cum just from this. Grazing against the spot again, you moan at his begging. He’s about to cum. You can tell from the way his cock twitches between your fingers, desire burns through you as you roughly start to thrust your one finger, curling the digit in a way that it would rub against the bundle of nerves again and again.
While his own pleasure rushes through him, Dieter calls out your name, and soon, thick ropes of cum shoots towards the wall. You moan into his skin as you feel his hole fluttering around your finger, his cock throbbing uncontrollably as he holds his breath. 
Pulling your hand away from his softening cock, you touch yourself, you didn't cum but you were awfully wet. You moan as you dig your fingers between your clothed folds, feeling your aching clit. When Dieter’s moans die down, you pull out your finger and push it between your lips, eyes rolling back at the taste of him. 
While you’re losing yourself in the taste of him, suddenly Dieter lifts you up from your knees and captures your lips in a hungry kiss. He groans at the taste of himself, cock grazing against the front of your dress as his hands slide up and down your arms. 
“Thank you for that sweetheart,” he mutters into your mouth, breaths mingling. “I can’t wait to play with you when we get home,” 
You smile blissfully, your fingers still between your legs.
“Me too.” 
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decembermoonskz · 2 years ago
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THE LOVE OPERATION ; PARK SUNGHOON {teaser} · approx. 19k words
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summary ▸ the plan was simple. pretend to date so you could get some annoying people to give you a break, and he could make his ex jealous. simple right? not when feelings got involved.  pairing ▸ park sunghoon x fem!reader genre ▸ college!au, rich kid!au, fake dating!au, enemies-to-lovers!au; fluff, angst teaser wc ▸ 2.4k other characters ▸ original characters, all enhypen members, park jisung, brief mentions of kang taehyun and shin yuna warnings ▸ explicit language, food mentions, alcohol mentions and consumption (any members of enhypen who cannot drink do not in this fic),  water/ocean mentions, jay and jake tease mc a lot, suggestive jokes, mentions of sex (but no explicit smut written at all). {teaser specific: explicit language, food mentions, brief mentions of alcohol, jay and jake tease mc a lot} song rec ▸ Tamed-Dashed : ENHYPEN / Arcade : NCT DREAM / Our Summer : TOMORROW X TOGETHER a/n ▸ hey guys!! since it’s summer i figured i’d share a summer-ish fic haha i realized this one was pretty fitting haha and also fake dating!au is one of my favorites so i’m pretty excited for this one. but anyway i’ve had this fic for a bit and i’m excited to share it with you guys!! :D it was really fun to write and overall i had a good time with this one!! i hope you enjoy this teaser >:) the full thing should be out hopefully between now and the end of next week!!
if you like this teaser and would like to be added to the taglist for this fic, simply send me an ask in my inbox asking to be tagged and make sure your blog is visible so i can find it to tag it :D now, enjoy the teaser!!
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IT’S BEEN A WEEK, AND THAT MEANS ONLY A WEEK AND A HALF LEFT BEFORE THE SUMMER TRIP. IT TURNS OUT THAT JUNGWON’S WORDS FROM A COUPLE DAYS AGO BOTHERED YOU MORE THAN YOU THOUGHT.
Jay and Jake haven’t teased you as much about it, but you thought about how they really don’t offer to set you up on dates as much as before. Should you try dating again? Don’t get it twisted, you don’t need to date someone, but now you’re feeling a bit stubborn and want to prove a point that you could, in fact, score a date.
This topic became prevalent again at a dinner that Jake planned for you all.
You wanted to get some good food and maybe a drink or two, so you accepted, and Jay, Jungwon, and Niki said they’d be there too. When you asked about Heeseung, Jake said he was busy with finishing cramming for one his last exams.
“Honestly, Sunoo’s been pretty busy too don’t you think?” you asked, you noticed he yet again couldn’t join you and your friends.
“I mean cut him some slack, he’s taking like five classes.” Jungwon said, honestly, you were surprised it would come from him.
“Says the kid who was gonna ask for permission to take six classes but decided against it at the last minute.” Jay countered.
“True.” Jungwon agreed without any resistance.
As you dug into some pizza, you noticed someone coming into the restaurant, and you wished you hadn’t.
Park Sunghoon walked in with a few other people. You saw Siyoon, and two other guys you didn’t recognize. He caught your gaze for a moment but no one else caught it, and he raised an eyebrow at you with that annoyingly attractive smirk—wait no, not attractive, just annoying.
“Hey man!” Jay said, and Sunghoon waved and sat down in the booth behind you.
“Is Siyoon here with him?” Niki asked as he tried to stuff an entire pizza slice in his mouth; in turn making you cringe.
Jay nodded. “Yeah, she actually is. I’m shocked.”
“Why’re you guys so interested in Sunghoon’s love life?” you asked and pulled your phone out—you look like Jungwon now.
“Oh I’m not, it’s just been kinda ridiculous how much they break up and make up,” Jay said and shook his head.
“Do they do this a lot?”
“Yes. More often than not it’s over something dumb, then they end up making out or some shit and then they’re back together, it’s tiring just watching. I’m glad I’m not looking for anyone, it seems like a hassle,,,” Niki explained while chewing his food.
You scrunched your face up, that did sound tiring. Why was Sunghoon so hung up on Siyoon? You had to admit, you were a little curious as to what she had that made him willing to put himself through that? It was any of your business though.
“So,” Jay said and leaned his elbows on the table as he looked at you. You didn’t like the look on his face, it was mischievous, he’s about to say something that’s going to make you want to punch him.
“How’s the searching for a date for the trip going _____?”
Yep, you really want to reach across the table right now.
“We’re talking about this again?” you asked and took a sip of your drink.
“Hey, you’re the one who said you could find someone. I’m just curious how it’s going.”
He’s not curious, he wants to tell you that he told you so and you couldn’t find anyone. Jake propped his cheek on his fist as he looked at you next to him. Niki is too engrossed in his food to care, and Jungwon—like always—is on his phone, you wonder what he’s so engrossed in.
“C’mon _____, tell us, any lucky guy yet?” Jake added in to tease you, he uses his other hand and pokes your side.
“I’ll answer for her, no one right?” Jay said and he sounded like such a know-it-all. Why did your friends enjoy teasing you so much? Then again, Jay teased all of you.
“How about we make a bet?” Jake said, and gosh, you wished he would stop talking.
“Alright, I bet _____ can’t find a date for the trip,” Jay said.
“Dude, why are you out for her?” Niki asked Jay, but he was laughing too. So you gave him a bit of a glare too.
“I’m not, this is just me wanting to prove I’m right.” he admitted, and the way he has zero shame just makes you wonder why you two are friends.
“Hey, let’s give her a fighting chance, I bet she’ll find the date but she’ll back out of it during the trip,” Jake said.
“That’s not much better Jake!” you yelled and punched his arm.
Jungwon cleared his throat loudly, getting everyone’s attention. “Guys, give her a break if she wants to find someone she can, but if she doesn’t, she doesn’t. You’re just picking on her now.” he said.
“Thank you, Jungwon.” you huffed.
“Sorry, _____.” Jay and Jake said like scolded children.
You chewed the inside of your cheek, and for a split moment, you had an idea.
A really, really stupid idea, but an idea nonetheless, just to get back at them.
They already apologized, and you knew they weren’t just trying to be mean, they do care about you. So you didn’t have to do this, however, you were feeling stubborn, and very petty.
“For the record, I did actually find someone.”
It’s at this, the table falls silent, and you have everyone’s attention.
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WHY, WHY, WHY DID YOU SAY THAT?! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?! WERE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!
“Wait, what?!” Jay asked, and now he’s way more serious, eyes as wide as saucers. 
“You actually found someone?!” Jake’s voice went up an octave. 
Jungwon and Niki hadn’t said anything yet, just looking at you in shock. 
There was no one, not at all. 
Why in the world did you open your mouth? Your friends had already apologized, and there was no reason to snap back at them with this. You have never felt more ridiculous, but it’s too late to go back now, what’s done is done. 
So what do you do? Keep going. 
“Yeah, I did find someone,” you said and added emphasis to keep them anticipating—so you could come up with something believable.
“Well,” Jay sighed and leaned back in the booth, “I’m even more sorry now, you had me fooled _____. You’re out here.” 
You smile as pridefully as you can at the moment—even though you were actually such a fake right now. 
“So, how did this happen?” 
“Well, you see, it’s a bit of a new development. We just decided to try and keep it private initially.” 
Niki still had his jaw dropped, but he shook it off. “Okay okay, private or whatever, who is he?”
Who… Who is this non-existent boyfriend of yours? You had to think fast. There weren’t many ways out of this.
“He…” 
The boys all lean in, caught in suspense. Jungwon is the only one leaning back still, looking at you unconvinced—his scrutinizing gaze was making you uneasy, he could always see through you, so you weren't sure how you were going to convince him, let alone any of your friends.
“He’s-”
“Hey, guys.” 
You turned to see Sunghoon popping up from behind you, and then he looked at you. “_____, I didn’t see you, why didn’t you come and say hi to me when I came in?”
What? 
You had to be saying that with your face because Sunghoon leaned down and then whispered something in your ear. The other boys looked surprised. 
“Play along, trust me, I’m doing you a favor,” Sunghoon whispered, his voice low.
When he pulled back, that serious tone could’ve been something you imagined, especially with how he was smiling so fondly at you. You wanted to throw up, but he was right, Sunghoon must’ve heard your conversation. He’s saving you, but you know it won’t be without a price. You internally sagged your shoulders as you expected for him to have something he wanted from you later; but you still put on a shy smile. 
“I was actually just talking about how we were keeping things private.” you said and looked away, pretending to be flustered. “They weaseled it out of me though. You came at just the right time.”
Sunghoon smiled at you and gestured at Jake to scoot over, which he did, a dumbfounded look on his face still. Sunghoon sat right next to you, his arm now around you and you’re tucked into his side now—you wanted to jump out of this booth so badly. 
“You’re dating Sunghoon?!” Niki asked.
You smiled as confidently as you could. Jungwon narrowed his eyes on you and Jay and Jake were still in shock. 
“Damn _____, I was joking when I said you guys were close, but you had me totally fooled.” Jake said as he shook his head.
“Does that mean when you two were talking with us about the trip a little while back, you two were dating then?” Jay asked, pointing an accusing finger between the two of you.
“No way, Sunghoon was still caught up with Siyoon, right?” Niki added. 
Jungwon gave Sunghoon a disapproving look, he was painfully silent, you knew that he wasn’t convinced, it was all in his face. He was examining the whole thing, he could read you better than any of your friends—you’d been friends with him the longest, so it’s no surprise. 
You had to do something that would really seal the deal. 
“I’m the one who asked him out.” you started, and all the attention was on you now—even Sunghoon’s. 
“You guys had been talking about how we were close, well, I’ve always had a bit of a crush on him and all. I just never worked up the courage, but when you guys initially teased me, I decided to suck it up and go for it. Sunghoon was willing to try it out and we hit it off.” 
Would they believe that? 
The others listened intently, no obvious reactions, it was awful how nervous you were. You deserved an Oscar for not breaking under the pressure of this lie. 
Sunghoon simply watched and listened to your story in awe, he smirked though—he could work with this. 
“_____ is right. It’s like Jake said before, I think Siyoon and I are a lost cause,” he said that with some bitterness, a little bite in his tone, maybe aimed at the girl you knew was sitting right behind you in the other booth—oh crap, she could hear all of this too, couldn't she?
“I decided to just go for it, but it turned out that we hit it off well.” Sunghoon rubbed your arm and brought you a bit closer as he looked at you. “I’m very lucky.” he said with the most believable tone of adoration. To top everything off, he leaned in and pecked your cheek.
Your cheek was now on fire, like he’d branded it with his lips. He sounded so sure, like this wasn’t all a lie. He was good at this acting thing. 
“Dang, what are you guys, a rom-com?” Jake said teasingly and propped his elbow on the table, leaning his cheek into his palm. 
“Yeah, it’s gross, stop,” Niki said and made a disgusted expression.
“Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you guys at the summer house then. Just keep all that lovey-dovey shit to yourselves, all I ask is that you guys don’t just… make out in the open or something.” 
Jake and Niki broke out into laughter, meanwhile, you had a smile on your face, but you had never wanted to punch Jay so badly—as if you’d ever make out with Sunghoon, who by the way, was laughing too.
You looked at Jungwon again and his expression was still unchanged, his brows furrowed and it’s as if you and him were the only two people in the booth right now. You knew exactly what his face was saying. 
Are you serious right now? We’re gonna talk after this. It was plain as day, all over his face, and you gulped at the thought of Jungwon interrogating you later. 
He knew you better than anyone, he was your best friend after all, he is well aware this doesn’t add up in his mind, you’re just going to have to convince him… Somehow. 
“Hey, Sunghoon!” you heard from behind you, a voice you didn’t recognize. “Get back over here!”
“Just a second let me finish talking to my girlfriend alright?” Sunghoon responded and you felt a shiver through your body as he said the word “girlfriend”. 
Sunghoon leaned into you just a bit and he smiled “I’ll text you tomorrow okay? We were supposed to talk about the trip but we both got super busy.” he gave you a disappointed pout and you had to remember this was all fake—he was too good at this. 
“Oh,” you know you sounded dumb but oh well. “Right. Yeah, of course, we can talk more tomorrow. Go hang out with your friends.” 
Sunghoon smiled again—why was it so bright and pretty?—then he pecked your cheek again, this one lingered just a bit. “Okay, talk to you tomorrow then.” he then got up and waved to your friends. “Bye guys.” 
Your friends said bye to Sunghoon and watched him slip into the booth behind you again. Then all eyes were on you. 
“What the fuck _____? Since when were you such a little secret keeper?” Jay teased. 
You laughed and shifted in your seat a bit. More like a little liar, you thought to yourself. 
“I told you guys we were just keeping it private initially. We didn’t know if we’d actually hit it off or anything.” 
That’s reason enough right? You hoped it was. 
“I mean, it makes sense I guess. It’s your business who you date. Still, Sunghoon?” Niki said with a judgmental tone.
“Niki’s right. I thought you guys were just acquaintances, didn’t know you had a whole secret relationship.” Jake said in disbelief, “Do you guys actually have a secret love child too?” 
“You’re an idiot!” you yelled and shoved Jake as you all laughed. 
This was not supposed to go this way. On top of Sunghoon swooping in and joining the lie. Life had a funny way of telling you things were going to get interesting this summer.
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225 notes · View notes
botwstoriesandsuch · 4 years ago
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OK SHUT UP SHUSH SHUT THE FUCK UP IT’S 1AM BUT SHUSH LISTEN! HEY, LISTEN!
I AM GIVING YOU THE TOOLS TO FIND THE EXACT DISTANCE OF ANYTHING ANYWHERE IN HYRULE, CUSTOM MAKE YOUR FIC JOURNEYS TO THE METER, FIND THE AREA OF ANY TOWN OR LANDMARK, OR JUST FIND OUT HOW BIG (or small) HYRULE KINDGOM TRULY IS ONCE AND FOR ALL SO GO AHEAD AND SAVE THIS POST TO YOUR DRAFTS CAUSE YOU MIGHT WANNA SEE IT FOR FUTURE REFERENCE
 Ok so this all starts with THIS
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FEAST YOUR EYES LADIES, LADS, AND GENTLEFOLK ON THE ONLY PIECE OF INFORMATION IN ALL OF HYRULE CONCERNING DISTANCE AND TIME. 
[Image ID: A screenshot from The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, depicting a picture of Ash Swamp hanging in Impa’s house. The dialogue box from Impa reads, “Does it look familiar? From this village, you should be able to get there in a half day’s time.” End ID]
Impa states that it would take you half a day, about 12 hours, to travel from Kakariko Village to the depicted 13th memory, which is at Ash Swamp by Fort Hateno. 
Now here is where I took this information. I took it to
objmap.zeldamods.org
A fantastic online Botw map resource with tons of features like finding specific objects, and highlighting areas, and placing pins, and the basics of showing the locations of everything like shrines and korok seeds and all that. 
BUT the thing that we care about today is this ability, here:
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DRAW!
With those widgets on the right, I can specifically mark lines and shapes and the website will give me the distance of it in meters!
“But Kip, if the map already gives you the distance of anything you want then isn’t this entire post pointless?” Ashshshshshhshh no, shut the fuck up, shush shut, no, stop, silence, I am high on caffeine and I haven’t slept for two days. No. 
As great as the map is, the exact ratio isn’t the best. Like, it tells me that the length of Hyrule is only 10km, or 6.2 miles. 
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I wager that realistically, Hyrule would be a bit bigger than that. And THAT, is where I come in. Or, more specifically, Impa.
Impa states that it takes 12 hours to travel from Kakariko to Fort Hateno. (I am saying Fort Hateno and not Ash Swamp because I am going of the nearest prominent landmark location near the 13th memory, and I highly doubt that Impa knew the exactly square foot patch of dirt that Link needed to stand on to activate his memory)
According to Google, it takes around 10 to 12 minutes to walk a kilometer. (I am assuming Impa was referring to walking and not riding, because I feel like she would have said, “You should be able to get there in half a day’s ride” or something of the sort. So, walking it is)
So: 
12 hours divided by 12 minutes 
(Which is 720 minutes / 12 minutes)
gives us
60
The distance between Fort Hateno and Kakariko village is 60 kilometers.
Badabing badaboom, great job! We did it. BUT NOW this is where our handy dandy online object map comes in.
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[Image ID: A screenshot of the Breath of the Wild map showing the area of Kakariko Village and the plains in front of Fort Hateno. A blue line highlghts the path from the village to a marker on Fort Hateno. The line reads “1.89km.” End ID]
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[Image ID: A screenshot of the Breath of the Wild map showing the area of Kakariko Village and the plains in front of Fort Hateno. The blue line from the previous image is still there, however, there is now a more prominent yellow line. The yellow line runs from Kakariko village, but ends at a marker point at the location of the 13th memory at Ash Swamp. The yellow line reads “1.55km.” End ID]
So while this map doesn’t give me distances that are exactly to my liking, it DOES give me a measuring means that will stay consistent. SO! As you can see, the map says Kakariko to Fort Hateno is 1.89km. (And just to be safe, I also did the distance exactly to the point of the 13th memory as shown in Impa’s picture, which came out to 1.55km. But! It’s doesn’t matter anyhow, because) We’re going to round this to 2km for the sake of my sanity because surprise surprise! I actually suck at, and hate, math. 
So the map says Kakariko to Fort Hateno is 2 kilometers, but we know that in real life, the distance is actually 60 kilometers. So, if you want to use this object map effectively, you have to make a means of converting the “false” measurements, (which I will be refering to as “zelda” (kilo)meters, or zm/zkm) from the actual ones. 
So THIS is what I fucking did oh my god help me it took me way too long even though it was really simple in hindsight I was just stupid and spent two hours trying to get the ratio equations right when really all I had to do was divide, it was a whole thing, anyhow, read away. 
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[Image ID: A screenshot of MATH oh my god it’s fucking math...BUT it’s kinda color coded so that’s nice. The top left of the page depicts text. In red text reads “zkm (Zelda km) = per the measurement on the objmap.zeldamods.org” and below that, in black text, reads, “Kakariko to Fort Hateno = 1.89 zkm ~ 2zkm,” which is underlines in yellow. Another line of black text reads, “Impa says it takes half a day’s time to travel from Kakariko to the 13th memory location AKA 12 hours.” Another line of black text reads, “It takes about 10-12min to walk a kilometer,” which is underlines in green.
Handwritten in blue ink is the equation, 
“12 hours = 720 min
720/12 = 60″ 
The 12 is highlighted in green, and the 60 is underlined. In green text, below it, reads, “It takes 12 hours to walk 60 kilometers.” In black text under this, it reads “So Kakariko to Fort Hateno is 60 kilometers.” Another line of black text under this reads, “So based on that, we can find the actual values of a zkm (Zelda kilometer).” 
Handwritten in yellow ink is the equation,
“2zkm = 60km
1km = 30km” [typo, I meant 1zkm = 30km]
The 60km is in blue, and the equation 1zkm = 30km is circled. 
To the right of everything, in bigger, yellow text, reads “So: 1zkm = 30km 1zm = 30 meters
The map of Hyrule measures roughly 10zkm (length) by 8zkm (height) [typo, I meant width] giving it an area of 80 square zkm.
Therefore, the “true” size of Hyrule Kingdom os 2400 square kilometers.” End ID]
SO ARMED WITH THIS NEW KNOWLEDGE, you can now use this map to measure whatever you want, and by converting 1zm to 30 meters, you can get accurate result as to what that distance is. 
Chart the roads, measure the rivers, the map even gives area tools for polygons, squares, and circles! This entire post was born out of a desire to see how long the characters in my fic should rest for when travel between different stables. 
Now before anyone asks, yes! 2400 square kilometers is fairly small. That’s around 930 square miles. I believe even Wales is more than three times bigger than that. BUT! Considering Hyrule is a medieval kingdom that’s actually pretty sizable considering the average size of a Kingdom was 100 to 900 square kilometers. 
And juuuust to double check, I ran the size though a Medievil Demographics generator, and 2400 (under the conditions of Fertile Land with 64% of the land being arable since I figured roughly 46% for lakes, the ocean, plus unusable land was more than enough to cover the Hebra, Death Mountain, and the Gerudo Desert. Which honestly is even MORE generous considering there are races that occupy these areas, but I digress) This still gives Hyrule Kingdom a good population of 108,000 people! Before the Calamity when all of its villages were up and occupied, of course. So the area is definitely more than enough, and can still give Link a more realistic amount of time to travel between areas (when you add eating and rest of course. Don’t make my guy walk for 10 hours straight from the Great Plateau to Hebra D: plz)
TL;DR: Hyrule is 2400 square kilometers; use the map, plus the conversion 1 zelda meter to 30 meters to measure anything you want; I am tired
Quick Edit: Please note that this conversion is for the purposes of people out there who need more realistic means of measuring distances for larger scale travel and such, like for writing fic journeys, or dnd campaigns. This conversion isn’t the best for smaller scale measure like buildings and such (EX: I’ve checked with buildings in Castle Town and the Coliseum, and they come out much too big, just a symptom of game design ratios not being perfect since it’s hard to balance consistent measurements and the immersion and plan a creator has for their game world!) So if you are measuring those smaller entities using the linked map, just stick with the given zelda meters! (EX: The Coliseum radius in zelda meters matches up nicely with the real world Roman Colosseum, beating it out by a few dozen meters!)
Also if you are a true believer in the interpretation of Impa’s dialogue as “half the amount of daylight hours,” see the reblogs!
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diaphragmjellyfish · 4 years ago
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Told You So
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A/N: Lots of people seemed to like my last Paul fic, and he’s my favorite Twilight character, so I thought I’d write another one! This could be considered a part 2 to I Have This Thing, but you don’t really have to read that one first. 
“How was physical therapy today, baby?” Paul asked for the 12th day in a row. Ever since you had finally told him about your vaginismus, he had been as involved as you would allow him to be in that part of your life. He was constantly checking up on you, supporting you, and being a shoulder to lean on when you had a bad session. Like today. 
“Not too great,” you responded. “I mean it wasn’t awful but I couldn’t keep it in for more than 5 minutes before I started cramping super bad.” 
“Aww, baby,” he cooed as he wrapped you up in a giant bear hug. “You know I’m so proud of how far you’ve come.”
You laughed lightly. Paul always cheered you up just by being here. “Thank you, Paul. It’s kind of frustrating, but more than that I’m just sore.” You had gotten comfortable with the idea that dilating would take time. There were good days and bad days, and you’d come to terms with that a long time ago. But sometimes, if your muscles were super tight or if you tried the next size too soon, you’d be left physically uncomfortable. That’s what was happening now. You guys were at a secluded beach for date night. You preferred more casual dates, where you could have privacy and be yourselves. With the whole wolf thing, you and Paul couldn’t really have super open conversations about your days in the middle of a fancy restaurant. 
“Sore? Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked, with a smirk and a hint of suggestion. Since you’d allowed Paul to start doing small things with you, like fingering, he’d become the cheeky hothead you’d always heard about. Constantly flirting with you, making little comments that made your cheeks grow hot. 
You gave him a light shove as he sat next to you on the blanket you’d laid out in the sand. “No. I don’t really feel like having anything else in me today,” you answered. 
“I don’t… have to go in,” he suggested as he looked at you nervously. Yes, he was a flirt. But he was still always careful to not cross the line or pressure you in any way. You looked at him questioningly. All you’d ever let him do was finger you. He’d tried just rubbing your clit before, but you found that that alone wasn’t enough to get you off. You needed both, and today, you’d settle for neither. 
“What if you let me eat you out?” 
You stopped at this, eyes wide. There was a reason you never asked him to do that before. Several guys had tried, but you never enjoyed it. It just felt like… nothing. There wasn’t enough pressure, enough feeling to get you anywhere close. You thought you just weren’t into that. You felt like all your friends went on and on about oral sex, but to you, it was just meh. You’d never let Paul do it before because you didn’t want him to feel bad when you wouldn’t like it. 
“Well, umm… “ at your hesitance, Paul was quick to back off. 
“We don’t have to. It was just a suggestion,” he seemed slightly disappointed, but did well to hide it. You knew him, though. 
“Paul, it’s not you. I just don’t really… like that.”
He looked at you like you had two heads. “You don’t like being eaten out,” he said bluntly, almost shocked. 
You shrugged your shoulders, preparing for the usual speech. ‘Oh, you’ve just never had a guy who knows what he’s doing try,’ they’d always say, only to try themselves with the same bland result. And sometimes, they’d get mad at you like it was your fault. Say you were broken. “Nope. Just not my thing,” you said shortly, getting ready to switch topics. Paul looked super confused. 
“Wait, wait. I’ve never met a girl who doesn’t like being eaten out before,” he scoffed. “You’ve probably just never had a guy who knows what he’s doing.” Whoop, there it is. 
“Paul, I love you, but every guy has said that exact line. And none of them have made me like it. It’s just not for me.” 
“Okay, okay. No pressure. I guess I’m just curious. What about it don’t you like?” he questioned. 
“I don’t know, it’s just never felt like anything. Like it just feels like a tongue, there’s no sensation, you know what I mean?” 
He nodded, staring out into the ocean in deep thought. “You don’t think if you coached me through it I could make it good?” 
“I mean… I don’t really know what I would even like. I don’t know how to coach you if I don’t know what’s gonna feel good,” you felt guilty, but Paul had helped you become more comfortable with boundaries, and you knew he wouldn’t be mad at you for saying no. 
“Damn,” he muttered with a laugh. You nodded your head in response. “Okay, well what if we went by feeling? If it feels like nothing, you can tell me and I’ll use some more pressure. If it’s not enough friction, let me know and I can go faster.” 
“You really want to try, huh?” you laughed. You trusted Paul completely. If he really wanted to eat you out, you would let him. “Just promise me your feelings won’t be hurt if I still don’t like it.” 
He brought a hand up to his chest, “Cross my heart, babe.” 
You exhaled a sigh. “Okay. Guess we should head back to the car then.” 
“Why? No one’s here,” he smirked. You looked around, and he was right. There was a huge cliff to one side of you, and several miles of sand to the other. No one was here. And the thought of doing something so dirty out where anyone could walk by and see, well it excited you. Your blush was evident, and it was all Paul needed. He reached around, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you in for a kiss. His other hand came up to cup your face, and as the kiss got more heated, you leaned back to lie on the blanket, pulling Paul on top of you. The arm that was around your shoulders came to rest next to your head, supporting his weight. Your own hands moved from around his neck down his chest, and under the thin t-shirt he was wearing, despite the chilly temperature. 
He sat up and all but ripped the shirt from his body, desperate to have his hands on you again. As he leaned back down to hover over you once more, he slid on hand under your shirt. Sure, it was summer, but you guys were in Washington. On the beach. At night. It was still pretty freaking cold out. 
“I’m keeping mine on, Cujo,” you laughed at his pout. 
“Oh, c’mon Princess, you know I’ll keep you warm.” At this, he dragged his lips down your jaw and to your neck, suckling at the skin. You breathed out a sigh and tilted your head to the opposite side, subtly arching your back. The hand that was under your shirt crept down between your legs. He stayed on top of your jeans and rubbed your inner thighs, grabbing lightly and putting pressure in the divot of your hip, between your leg and already damp pussy. Your hands carded through his hair, tugging lightly. He nipped at your neck as he popped the button on your pants, sliding the zipper down torturously slow. 
You let out a whimper, because at this point, he would normally be sliding his hand down your pants and a finger inside you. But that’s not what was happening tonight. His lips travelled from his neck, down to the top of your chest that was exposed from your shirt, and then down to your stomach. And lower, and lower. Once he reached the waistband of your pants, he sat up, kneeling between your legs. He grabbed your belt loops, pulling off your jeans, and then your underwear, and putting them in a neat pile on the side of the blanket, careful not to get sand all over them. The ocean breeze hit your hot core, and it was a strange sensation that made you shiver. 
“Cold?” he questioned, full of care and concern. 
“Yeah, so you better get down here and warm me up,” you smirked. His own smirk followed, and he leaned down. Instead of hovering over you, though, he brought his face down to your lower stomach once more, hooking your legs over his shoulders and bringing his hands up your sides to rest on your stomach, covering your skin with as much of his own as possible in an honest effort to make sure you weren’t cold. Even in sexy, sensual moments like this, Paul was still a sweetheart at his core. 
“Remember what I said about telling me how you feel. I want a full status report, Agent Y/L/N.” 
“Copy that, Detective Lahote,” you giggled back, bringing your hand up in a mock salute. 
He started kissing right under your belly button, nipping and sucking at the skin before soothing with his tongue. And then he trailed kisses a couple inches lower, repeating the same process. He did this over and over, taking his sweet time worshipping your skin, before he finally reached the soft skin just above your folds. He paused, and looked up at you with a savage grin. You could definitely say that you had never been this turned on before being eaten out before. 
Your hands were placed atop of his own on your stomach, gripping in anticipation. His chin dipped slightly, and he placed a soft kiss right on your clit. You felt the slight pressure of his lips, but not much else. 
He looked up at you, quirking his eyebrow in question. You shook your head lightly, a sad smile on your face. Instead of looking defeated, he looked determined. “How’d it feel?” 
“Not enough friction,” you answered.
Leaning back down, he licked a long stripe from your entrance to your clit, circling around a few times before ending in a kiss. Again, nothing. Well, it felt like a tongue, but it didn’t really feel  particularly good. Again, he looked up at you, and you began to feel nervous. You never want to make Paul feel like he isn’t good enough, and you worried that this situation might be doing just that. 
“Talk to me, Princess,” he ordered softly. 
“I… I don’t know. It just, doesn’t really feel like anything,” you responded softly. 
“That’s okay. I have a couple more ideas,” he responded, his confidence never failing. This time, when he leaned down, he flicked his tongue over your clit rapidly. And when he still got no reaction, he began to feel slightly worried. He talked a big game. What if he was just like all those other assholes that never got you off? In desperation, he brought your clit and the surrounding folds between his lips and sucked.  
You gasped, and sat up slightly. Oh. You weren’t expecting that. Paul smirked. 
“Good?” he asked, teasingly. 
“Yeah, good. Can you do that again, but a little… more?” you responded, huffing a light laugh. 
His face lowered once more, and he repeated the same action as before. You bit your lip, your hips involuntarily lifting up into his face. He kept up this sucking motion several more times until he finally got a moan out of you. Soft, but he heard it. And it excited him. 
He began to repeat the motion, sucking slightly harder, and playing with your clit with his tongue while he sucked it into his mouth. This had you crying out. He grabbed your hips roughly and pulled you closer to him. 
“Fuck, Paul!” you gasped, hands now gripping his hair. Your hips writhed under his face, and he had to clamp his hands down tighter over your stomach to keep you still. You’d never felt anything like this before. It was strange, different from fingers or dilators, but still good. 
And Paul knew, as every good lover knows, that when women are feeling good, Don’t. Change. A. Thing. So he kept up the same rhythm. Same pace. Same technique. Suck, lick, kiss. Suck, lick, kiss. For the next twenty-five minutes. You knew his jaw must be hurting by now, but every time you were about to protest, he would give an extra hard suck to your clit, shutting you up with your own moans. And you were closer than you’d ever been from oral before. You were right there on the edge. 
“Oh my God, don’t stop!” you moaned in a higher pitch than before, and Paul knew you were close. 30 seconds later, your whole body was shaking, euphoria washing through your veins and your mouth opened in a silent moan. When you came down, Paul’s lips were still on your clit, only more gently now. You had to pull him away by the hair when the sensations became too much. With labored breath, you whispered a “woah.” 
Paul’s only response was “Told you so.” 
“Yeah, you did,” you laughed, too high on the orgasm to worry about how out-of-control his ego would be after this. He continued placing soft kisses over your stomach, hands rubbing up and down your sides while you calmed down and caught your breath. “Sorry I took so long,” you finally added. 
“Hey,” he said sharply, though you knew he was messing around. “If you think for even a second that I didn’t enjoy every single minute of that, you’re crazy.” 
“Ok well it’s time for me to return the favor. Roll over, Wolfie,” you chided, sitting up on your elbows. 
“You already did,” at this, you looked at him confused. He looked down, cheeks turning slightly red. “I… need to change into a new pair of shorts.” You bust out laughing. It was a good night.
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mrs-gucci · 3 years ago
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Anything Goes {Maurizio Gucci x Reader}
anonymous (half of their request):
I think the world needs a Maurizio x Studio 54 fic 👀
author’s notes: hello, hello! YES, I think we need this...and now we have it! thanks for sending it in <3 I really enjoyed researching a bit and whipping up this piece! a special thanks to @babbushka​ for being the resident Studio 54 expert!  Mauri isn’t as ‘soft’ here as he is when I write him usually, but I honestly loved exploring this sort of ‘wild side’.
warnings: smut. porn with some plot. masquerade. I think Studio 54 is a warning of its own. dancing. grinding. p in v. unprotected sex. fluff at the end.
(possible) tw’s: some alcohol consumption. cigarette smoking (canon for character). (!!) implied infidelity/extramarital sex. public sex. (!!)
word count: 2.46k
terms to know
Bellissima means ‘beautiful’ in Italian (an affectionate nickname). Dio means ‘God’ in Italian (used as an exclamation in this piece). Cristo means ‘Christ’ in Italian (used as an exclamation in this piece). Cazzo means ‘fuck’ in Italian (used as an exclamation in this piece).
maurizio’s taglist peeps! @icarusinthesea @eagerforhoney my general taglist peeps! @safarigirlsp @babbushka @mrs-zimmerman @dirtytissuebox @thepalaceofmelanie​ (if you’d like to be added to or removed from any of my taglists, the link to the google form is HERE or on the top of my masterlist)​
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Muffled tunes bump from the concrete walls as you and your small group of friends walk past the blocks-long line. You flash your Gucci company ID to the bouncer, who lets you in immediately, getting a few envious mutters and groans from the line-goers.
Studio 54 is the place to be these days and luckily for you, working at the House of Gucci’s New York branch gets you premiere access, since the CEO is a huge investor in the club. 
Tonight’s a masquerade theme, so all patrons are wearing a variety of different masks, from whole-face masks to only eye masks. But, each was very much their own, a sea of colors and sequins and feathers as their wearers stride about.
You’re clad in a risqué disco getup, wearing a metallic silver tube top and matching skirt with some small heels that you’re sure you’ll tire of rather quickly. But Studio 54, from what you’ve heard, is all about the looks, the glitz and the glamour. Your eye mask is made to match tonight’s look as well as resemble cat-eye glasses, black with small silver wings coming off the pointed edges. 
Your winter coat is checked and then you head up to the dance floor, music getting louder and louder as you ascend the staircase. Your breasts bounce a bit with each step, nipples peering out from beneath the silver fabric. Studio 54 is known for its ‘anything goes’ rule, and you fully intend on taking advantage of that freedom tonight. 
It’s jam-packed, just as you’d expected it to be, sweaty bodies dancing and grinding together in a large group on the floor. The stale air is hazy with cigarette smoke, smells of sex and drugs linger all throughout the thick, humid air. Your senses are overwhelmed while at the same time aroused by the sights and smells of Studio 54.
While your friends head over to the bar to grab drinks, you head right onto the dance floor, beginning your night of wild, passionate fun. A few guys come and grind with you for a few minutes or so, but they leave shortly after. Your eyes peer through the holes in your mask, lingering over the talent standing at the sides of the floor, scouting and waiting to devour their scantily-clad prey.
Your gaze pauses on a man leaning against one of the pillars, lighting up a cigarette. He looks in stark contrast to all other club-goers who sport the metallic, the feathers, the sequins, the avant-garde. He’s so abnormally normal with his crisp, classy 007-type tuxedo. His chestnut brown hair drapes down to just below the brilliant white collar of his button-up, neatly moussed and styled. He’s disguised by a bright white half-face mask, making him appear almost ghoulish when paired with his handsomely pale skin.
His eyes suddenly dart over to meet yours and your cheeks heat up as you look away, biting your lip softly. He smirks, taking a drag off his cigarette before heading over to the bar. He’s going to need some courage juice in him before he approaches you.
The night wears on and you start to get a bit discouraged. You’re still having fun, of course, you just wish that it was going more according to your fantasy and imagination. Perhaps you should head to another club, see if you fare better there. 
Deciding in favor of checking out other hotspots in the area, you begin to make your way off to the side back towards the door. Suddenly, a set of large, strong hands slide onto your waist and pulls you back, forcing you to collide with a large body. The scent of expensive cigarettes enveloping you as he steps up behind you and goosebumps instantaneously erupt down your arms as the tall man leans down, lips now at your ear.
“Ciao, bellissima.” His voice is slightly husky and thick with Italian origin, alcoholic breath hot on your skin.  “The party’s out here on the floor, not down at coat check.”
You chuckle. “It seems that no one wants to party with me for more than five minutes tonight. I was gonna try my luck at another club.”
He pulls you back a bit further against him.
“Well then, it’s lucky I caught you. I’d be just kicking myself if I missed the chance to dance with a beauty like you.”
“I think you overestimate my talents, sir.” You’re wondering if this is a dream, something to cope with the real-life disappointment of the night.
The man chuckles, running his nose along the side of your neck and inhaling your sweet perfume. “And I think you underestimate your talents, miss.”
A slower, more sensual song begins to play through the speakers and you reach up to wrap your hand around the back of your unknown dance partner’s neck, keeping him down near your head.
“Let’s find out who’s right, then, shall we?”
His grin is obvious, even though you can’t see him. “Yes, let’s.”
You start by leaning back against him, simply feeling out the slow and steady rhythm of the beat. You’ve never felt so relaxed, so carefree before and it feels really, really nice. He drops his hands from your hips, but sways along with you, trying to keep his lips away from your up-done hair. 
He ends up having a few of your hairs catch on his plush lips a few minutes later, causing him to have to try spitting them out subtly and quietly. 
It doesn’t work. 
You laugh softly and he blushes, chuckling awkwardly along with you. “Sorry about that. You must’ve caught some of my flyaways.”
“Yes, it seems that way. I feel guilty for ruining the mood, though.” His nose nudges at your temple, hands coming back up to hold your hips as he senses your motions grow a bit quicker.
“Don’t. I’m sure we can manage to bring it back to what we had before. In fact, I think we can make it even better.”
Your hips begin to circle back against him at a more aggressive rate of speed, moving the fabric of his dress slacks all over his hardening crotch. His breath is shaky as it comes out through his nose, fingers digging a bit tighter into the flesh of your hips.
The humid air practically suffocates the two of you as the other patrons dance all around, causing a slick sheen to quickly cover your skin, the roots of your hair soaking through steadily. Your fingers gently massage his scalp as his lips move and suck red marks into your tender skin that’ll surely turn purple by the end of the night.
Soon, he begins experimentally rolling his pelvis in time with your motions, grunting against your neck at the sensations this new move is creating. He’s almost fully hard beneath his suit slacks by now, already planning out how he’s gonna get with you tonight. Patrizia doesn’t have to know about this.
“So, are you ever gonna let me see you, mystery man?” You ask, chuckling.
He blushes beneath the mask. He’s extremely hesitant to let you see him, an instinct born of being in the spotlight since youth. But then he remembers, he’s in America and he has a mask on. 
His hands pull away from you and a small kiss placed on your exposed shoulder. “Look upon me, then, bellissima.”
Suddenly gripped with nerves, you turn around slowly and look up. He’s handsome; the epitome of men, warm brown hair and endearing ocean blue eyes. His gazes roam your masked appearance in a similar manner, relieved that you don’t seem to recognize him. A sudden feeling of familiarity washes over you as your eyes meet once more.
“Your eyes, your gaze...they’re familiar to me. Is there a chance we’ve crossed paths before?”
His nostrils flare in fear, eyes going wide for a moment. A soft, cautious breath leaves his lips and he shakes his head quickly. “No, it’s not likely. I’ve been told I have one of those faces, you know?”
“Yeah, yeah, I know what you mean. That’s probably it.” You step back up to him, hands smoothing over his broad chest. “Now, where were we?”
“Hmm, I think it was...” Maurizio smirks, leaning down so that his lips hover just above yours. “Right about here, if I recall correctly.”
Pressing yourself up on your toes, you connect your lips to his just as the last of his sentence passes through his velvety pink lips. Your arms snake up around the back of his neck, fingers toying with the rich brown locks. They certainly won’t be so neatly styled when you’re finished with him tonight, that much you’re sure of.
He smiles against your lips, stepping up a bit closer to you, body now pressing right up against yours. The two of you remain that way until he pulls away softly, breathing slightly heavy as his eyes look over your face.
“Can I take you upstairs? To the uh, balcony, perhaps?”
Oh, you’ve heard plenty of things about the balcony and the heat has already begun to pool in your loins. You nod, a small but devious grin stretching across your face.
“Absolutely. Lead the way, handsome.”
The two of you make your way towards the staircase, dodging and weaving through the crowds of dancing drag queens, salacious skaters, carefree celebrities and various other perky patrons.
“Do I get to learn your name before we reach the balcony?”
His breath hitches. “Mauri, you can call me Mauri.”
Your brows furrow slightly. You’ve never heard a name like that before, but maybe it’s some kind of nickname. 
“Mauri, got it. I’m Y/N.”
Y/N. A beautiful name, fit for a beautiful woman.
He smiles and nods, guiding you up to the balcony. When you arrive, there are already plenty of people inhabiting the space, all in various stages of either sex, undress or getting high. 
This is definitely where a majority of the sex smell downstairs is originating from. 
Mauri keeps his head tilted downwards and you swear you can see a bit of a blush on his cheeks as he takes you over to a relatively secluded corner. He undoes his belt quickly, sloppily kissing you as he does so.
You gasp sharply into his mouth when he suddenly scoops you up and slams you against the wall, lips working your neck while his hands free his hardened arousal from where it’s trapped beneath the restrictive suit fabric.
Your skirt is promptly pushed up to rest on your hips, your panties are pushed to the side, and Mauri’s cock is sheathing itself inside you before you can even process it.
“Ohhh christ.”
His jaw slacks against your neck, eyes squeezing shut while his hot breath spreads over your taut skin. Goosebumps erupt where the invisible warmth falls. “Dio.”
He stays still for a moment, then buries his face into the crook of your neck before his hips begin to move. There’s nothing slow or intimate about what the two of you are doing, it’s carnal. It’s sloppy and rough, the sweat mingling especially where your skin is pressed against his. 
The smell of sex that permeates around you only makes the whole experience that much more arousing. Your eyes looking around the room to see other couples getting off, shuddering and whining as you make eye contact with a young woman currently getting fucked on the ground. Your insides clench around him instinctively, earning you a small grunt while your hand takes hold of his silky brown locks.
“You’re tight, cristo, so hot and slick for my cock.”
Your head falls back against the wall with an audible clunk sound and you cringe in acute pain for a quick moment, but the pure lust and hunger flowing through you provides the adrenaline needed to ward off the pain. It’ll surely be sore come dawn, but really, you couldn’t care less at the moment.
“So big, Mauri, fucking me so good.”
Mauri fucks you harder, then, crooked teeth scraping against the taut flesh of your neck, panting softly. You reach down into the humid space between your bodies until your fingertips find the engorged bud nestled neath folds of delicate flesh.
A wet sound soon emerges from between your legs as your fingers swipe back and forth over your clit quickly, bringing yourself right up to the edge within only a minute or two. 
He grunts into your neck, pace rapidly devolving into one that’s erratic and desperate, shaft pulsing under the tight grip of your insides. His breathing grows quick and shallow, hands pushing at your spread legs to push them further into a spread eagle position. 
“Where do you want it?”
You moan along with his motions, pitch heightening slightly with each of his powerful thrusts. “Fuck, I--”
Suddenly, you’re thrown over the edge, a powerful orgasm hitting you like a truck. An avalanche of pleasure rolls over your body, nerves buzzing with warm feelings of release. Your hand wraps around the back of his head, lips near his ear to catch the chorus of whimpers, whines and little mewls that leave your lips.
“M-Mauri.”
His brows crease, knitting in the center of his forehead as he fucks you through it, finding it a nearly impossible feat to stave off his own climax, but he manages.
“Cazzo, I--wheredoyouwantit?” He’s barely holding on, now.
“Outside, a-anywhere.”
Balls pulling up, Mauri moans and pulls out quickly, just as the first thick rope of creamy release spatters onto your fleshy inner thighs. A long, shaky groan leaves his lips before he crashes them onto yours to muffle the rest of his sounds.
You move with him, lips liquid with his, fluid motions so effortless that you’d think the union was one entity. He pulls away from your lips slowly, then out of your tingling cunt, a smile on his face the whole way along.
“I apologize for the mess, bellissima.” He pulls out a handkerchief and wipes the creamy liquid from your thighs before helping pull your skirt back down. “There we go.”
You offer him a small smile, biting your lip as the unsureness of what to do next takes over. After a moment, you clear your throat, chuckling softly.
“I’m not really sure what to do next, if I’m completely honest.”
“Me neither.” His cheeks, of what you can see of them behind the mask, turn a shade of pink. “How about I buy you a drink at the bar? That seems like a good place to start.”
Your lips instantly curve upwards into a smile and you offer him a soft nod.
“A drink would be great.”
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breanime · 4 years ago
Text
Intentions
Okay, here’s my shot at a Tommy Shelby fic... Let me know what you think, please!
Prompt:  “You think I would do this for just anybody?”
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You weren’t entirely sure what possessed Tommy Shelby—the Tommy Shelby—to assist you, but you decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth and just appreciate it. Ever since he’d overheard you telling Ada about the men who harassed you on the streets, Tommy had taken it upon himself to make sure you always had an escort home.
And for the last five days, that escort had been him.
“Really, Mr. Shelby—” you began, holding your purse in front of you as Tommy locked up the office.
“—Tommy,” he corrected you, a cigarette dangling from his lips.
“Tommy,” you repeated, “you don’t have to keep doing this, really. I can just walk.”
“You live 45 minutes from the office,” he said back, “and that’s not counting having to stop for fucking protests or some pieces of shite trying to pick you up. Then it’s around 56 minutes if it’s raining or snowing,” he went on, “More if it’s doing both at once,” he led you to his car, opening the door for you, “You work hard; you ought to have your boss make sure you get home safe.”
You bit your lip, trying to keep your growing smile in check. Tommy had no way of knowing that—the time it took for you to get home—unless he walked the walk himself. “Well,” you said, climbing into the car, “I really do appreciate it.”
“Yeah, well just appreciate it quietly, eh? Don’t need the other girls thinkin’ they can get a free ride out of me,” he glanced at you, giving you a small smile that made your heart flip in your chest. You watched as he started the car, and he turned to you, “Why do you stay in that neighborhood, anyway?” He asked you. “It’s so far from town, the buildings are old, the landlords are pricks…”
“It’s the only neighborhood that houses Blacks,” you answered, “Or at least it’s the only one that houses us at an affordable price.”
“Hm,” he nodded, looking ahead as he drove, the smoke from his cigarette billowing from his lips, “Am I paying you that poorly?”
You laughed, and you didn’t miss the way his lips twitched upwards as you did. “You pay me well above the usual rate. I’m just saving it up, is all. I can’t have you driving me around forever, Mr. Shelby—”
“—Tommy,” he corrected you.
You rolled your eyes, making him chuckle, “Tommy,” you amended yourself.
“I don’t mind it, you know,” he said, turning the wheel, “driving you. These last few days, it’s been… nice,” he paused, “I don’t get a lot of time for good company or conversation on me own.”
“Oh, so I’m good company, am I?” You said with a grin.
Tommy turned to you, those diamond blue eyes staring right into your soul, “You’re a smart girl,” he replied, “Loyal, Trustworthy. Hard working. And you’re bloody gorgeous so. Yes. You make for good company.”
You felt your cheeks heat up, and your eyes darted down to your lap. You’d heard that Tommy Shelby was a charmer, and that he’d had pretty much every woman who’s worked for him—minus his aunt and his sister-in-law, of course—but you’d never seen him so… forward.
You liked it.
“Have I made you uncomfortable?” He asked casually, as if he was asking about the weather.
“No,” you answered, looking over at him, “You make for good company too.”
He gave a wry smile then. “Fishin’ for a raise, eh?”
You raised an eyebrow. “Either I’m loyal and trustworthy, or I’m bootlicker. Which is it, Tommy?”
He laughed, and the sound made you warm all over. Tommy didn’t laugh nearly as often as he should. “Fair enough,” he nodded, “You’re not a bootlicker, that’s for sure,” he glanced over at you again, “I haven’t figured out what it is you are yet…”
“I’m a girl who isn’t gonna let you fuck her just cause you’ve given me a few rides,” you said back, speaking before you could stop yourself.
He raised his eyebrows, nodding. “Is that what you think is going on here?” He asked. “My driving you home from work? You think I’m doing this for sex?”
You licked your lips, nervous now. “Well, I mean no offense, Mr.—Tommy—but I’ve worked for you for three months now, and I think I know you well enough to know that you never do anything for nothing.”
Tommy smirked. “That’s true,” he stopped the car, letting a mother and her kids pass in front, and looked at you, his eyes staring into yours brazenly, “So, let’s have it. Give me your theories,” he started the car again, glancing back at you as he spoke, “Why, then, do you think that I do this?”
You paused. Maybe you were being presumptuous. Maybe he didn’t want to sleep with you. Just because he called you gorgeous, didn’t mean he wanted to fuck you, after all. Maybe he didn’t mean what he said—although Tommy always meant what he said. Maybe, though, he really was just concerned about your wellbeing. A woman walking home alone at night could be vulnerable to all kinds of dangers, and given the amount of enemies the Shelbys had… You looked over at Tommy. “You do this for everyone,” you surmised.
Tommy turned to you, an eyebrow raised. “You think I would do this for just anybody?”
Again, you paused. “Yes?”
“Well, I don’t,” he said back, “I’ve never driven any of the girls home—except for Lizzie, but that’s only because I fucked her,” he went on, blunt as ever, “This takes up a portion of my time, and I’m not a man who has a lot of time to waste,” he looked over at you, “I like being around you,” he confessed, “I like the way you talk. I like the way you think, and when I think of you alone at night… I can’t sleep. I can never sleep, but still…” He took his cigarette and tossed it, giving a humorless chuckle. “You make me ramble,” he went on, shrugging one shoulder, “I don’t ramble, least not since France...” He paused for a moment. “When I’m busy, and one of the lads takes you home instead, it ruins me night. It irritates me that I missed out on that time with you, and that another man got it instead,” he glanced at you again, “Is that alright to say?”
You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “I prefer it when you drive me,” you admitted, “Not that the others aren’t nice and all—they are—but… I do like this time with you, being alone with you…”
Tommy looked at you, his sky-blue eyes staring into yours, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Wordlessly, he pulled the car over, turning to face you fully. “Tomorrow is Friday,” he said, and you blinked, confused as to why he was telling you something you already knew, “Pay day. I’d like to take you out to dinner. Maybe see a picture after. Would that be alright?”
You felt your lips spread out in a smile, and Tommy smiled back, chuckling a bit at the excitement in your eyes. “Yes,” you answered, “yes, that’d be alright.”
“But I want to be honest with you,” he went on, “I respect you as an employee, and you’ve been a good friend to me these past months, and regardless of what happens tomorrow night, I will still make sure you have a safe way home after work,” he leaned forward a bit, his voice low and deep, “but I want it known that I very much do want to fuck you.”
His words sent a flush of heat through you, and you had to remind yourself that you were a lady, not a whore…no matter how much Tommy Shelby’s glimmering eyes and sharp jawline made you want to be… Biting your lip, you smiled at him, “I’m not going to open my legs for you on the first date, Tommy.”
He laughed, taking out another cigarette and lighting it, the flame reflecting in his ocean-colored eyes. “Mm, we’ll see,” he murmured, “So it’s a date then?”
“It’s a date.”
The rest of the drive passed quickly—too quickly for your taste. The two of you discussed work and your families and what movie you’d like to see, and before you knew it, he was parked outside of your building.
He opened the door for you and walked you to the front door like a gentleman. And you thanked him—
—with a kiss.
If the kiss took him by surprise, Tommy didn’t show it. As soon as your lips touched his, his arm was wrapped around you, keeping you close. The kiss was soft, but firm, and Tommy’s slender body felt magnificent against yours. You wondered, at the back of your mind, what your neighbors would think, seeing you necking with Tommy fucking Shelby of the Peaky fucking Blinders, but you couldn’t be bothered to care about what the gossips may say.
You were too busy trying to keep yourself from floating off in a haze of bliss.
You pulled back first, and Tommy let you. You couldn’t keep the smile off of your face. “I’m not letting you up, Tommy.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“Like hell you didn’t,” you smirked, making him laugh.
“I’m a patient man,” he said back, taking a step back, “I can wait until tomorrow.”
You laughed at that, but the truth was, you were quite certain that tomorrow night, when Tommy pulled up in front of your apartment, he wouldn’t be driving off until the sun rose.
In fact, you were counting on it.
You watched him drive off from your window, a sigh escaping from deep in your chest, the taste of him—mint and smoke and a hint of whiskey—fresh on your lips. Tommy fucking Shelby…
…what had you gotten yourself into?
*******************************************************************************************
Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think! You guys know how I get when I write a new character; I always think it’s shit. So if it is, tell me! And if it’s not, tell me why, please! Should I write for him again, or nah? Cause I kind of have an idea for a Part 2, but IDK if anyone would be interested. 
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heyiwrotesomethings · 4 years ago
Text
Lepidopterophobia Prt. Two
Shinobu Kochou x She/Her Reader
A/N: People seemed to like that oneshot so I made a part two! Here is a link to part one if you want a refresher or something (Link). Word Count: ~11,329 (Again, holy shit. I do not know how I wrote so much. I blame the demon encounter that I forced myself to put in this fic and the totally unnecessary OC interaction lol) Hope you enjoy!
Shinobu was getting worried now. It may have been hiding behind sweet smiles and teasing words, but the worry was there nevertheless, churning deep within her like an undercurrent of a seemingly calm ocean cost.
She and (Y/n) had made it a habit to write each other at least once a week since they met about six months ago.
Such letters always made Shinobu feel extremely happy and giddy. Even the estate residents could determine when a letter came simply based on body language alone, although the melodic humming also helped on that front.
Giyuu had even witnessed the change first hand by chance one day and he admitted that it was the freakiest thing he had ever experienced. Especially when she walked past him and actually gave him a compliment before continuing to hum and glide down the hall. Giyuu did not know how to conduct himself in this Shinobu’s presence.
However this week was different, Mochi had not arrived, there was no letter. Shinobu quelled the initial disappointment and anxiety. Surely (Y/n) just had a tiring mission and fell asleep while drafting her message. It wouldn’t have been the first time after all. But when the second week was nearing its end, Shinobu was starting to crack.
She was admittedly a bit unfocused. Her honey sweet tone was still there, but her speech was sharp and clipped. She spent more time in her lab doing research well into the early hours of the morning, becoming more unkempt as another new dawn brought no news.
Aoi made sure Shinobu would eat. She also made it clear that the Hashira needed to be taking better care of herself in general as the young woman sulked her way into the infirmary.
“You’re worrying the younger girls because you look like you’ll collapse at any second and Kanao might not say it, but you’re worrying her too. You’re causing us all distress,” Aoi had told her, not pulling any punches. “(Y/n)-san would not be happy to see you like this.”
“Well, she isn’t here now, is she? She hasn’t been here since her first visit. Why should I care what makes her happy?” Shinobu’s seraphic voice laced with poison replied, an insincere smile painting her lips.
Aoi scoffed and rolled her eyes. “If only I knew, Shinobu-sama. I don’t quite understand you’re attraction to her myself. Maybe you should try writing her again.”
“I’ve already sent two letters. I’m not so desperate for attention to try for a third,” Shinobu responded rigidly. “My crow has always come back empty handed so I know someone is getting my messages. What more is there to do?”
“Didn’t she say in her last letter that demon attacks were becoming more frequent in her sector? Just give her some time. She isn’t that big of an idiot to ignore you on purpose.”
“I’m growing tired of this conversation, Aoi,” Shinobu sighed. “I’ll be going to the lab and I do not wish to be disturbed.”
“As you wish, Shinobu-sama. I’ll send someone over with your dinner later though, and you better eat it.” Aoi replied as Shinobu walked out.
Kanao came to stand by Aoi’s side and flipped her coin, heads. “I have not seen Shinobu-neesan seem so visibly upset in a long time.”
“Yes, she must really like (Y/n)-san a lot, huh?” Aoi frowned, making another bed.
Kanao flipped her coin again, but remained silent this time around.
“Well, that idiot better respond soon. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”
***
Shinobu drowned herself in her research well into the night. Balancing equations, messing with beakers and microscopes and reading copious amounts of botany and organic chemistry texts. She was so absorbed in her work that she didn’t notice the faint tapping at the door that led out onto the engawa from her lab.
The tapping persisted almost frantically as Shinobu inked down some notes until a loud squawking caused her hand to jerk across the parchment and ruin her page. She almost didn’t care though, she leapt from her chair and slid the door open with enough speed for it to clack against the stopper hard enough to echo across the garden.
She beckoned the familiar raven to take perch on her arm, cooing and lightly stroking the feathered breast of the large bird with a sincere smile and hopeful eyes.
“Good evening Mochi,” she cooed softly. “What have you and (Y/n) been up to these past few weeks?”
“(Y/n), (Y/n)!” The bird mimicked, enjoying the head scritches Shinobu was supplying him. He held a leg out toward Shinobu and she deftly untied the parchment from his leg.
“Thank you for this, rest here for awhile. I’m sure my crow wouldn’t mind sharing some snacks with you.”
Mochi cawed excitedly, flapping his way into the corner with Shinobu’s crow who seemed a bit miffed by the disturbance, but ultimately did not mind the presence of the larger bird she had come to know over the last few months.
Shinobu sat back in her writing desk and unfurled the parchment with a slight tremor running through her hands. As she began to read through the letter, concern laced through her features. (Y/n)’s tone was there. The words came off like hers, but the handwriting was unfamiliar, completely off. Each character was shaky, and stray ink splattered the parchment throughout the letter. There was no way (Y/n) actually wrote this.
The suspicious letter contained an apology for tardiness that was spun in a way that made it rather humorous and light without downplaying the seriousness of the apology, a skill Shinobu only knew (Y/n) to have mastered so well. The message continued on to talk about the high number of demons still running rampant in the area and addressed points made in Shinobu’s previous letters, but she still couldn’t get over the hand writing, it just didn’t sit right with her.
“Mochi, did (Y/n) write this?” Shinobu asked, knowing she was asking a lot of the bird to actually try to hold a conversation in a human language.
“No write, can’t write,” the bird croaked while happily eating some berries.
“Why can’t she write?” Shinobu asked, her brow wrinkled with concern.
“Forgot, can’t say, not supposed to,” the raven replied nervously.
“Mochi, what happened, is she hurt?”
Mochi shifted uncomfortably. “Healing, will be okay. Resting.”
“Is that why she didn’t reply sooner, she got hurt?” Shinobu was mostly just saying that to herself as she began eyeing one of her medicine cabinets intently. She walked over to it and opened the cabinet doors now going into full-on healer mode. “She hasn’t said anything in two weeks so it must be serious,” she turned back to the raven who jumped at the intensity of Shinobu’s gaze and attempted to hide behind the much smaller crow. “Tell me what happened Mochi. I need to know what I must bring.”
“Bring?”
“Yes, now how bad she Mochi, please focus.”
“Arms broken. Head hurts. Feverish. I worry, but she says fine.”
“Fine she says, I’ll show her fine,” Shinobu muttered as she packed the necessary materials, a vein protruding angrily from her forehead. “I need to grab some other supplies from the infirmary, don’t move a muscle.” she commanded before practically teleporting out of the lab.
Shinobu grabbed additional medicines and medical supplies, rustling about the cabinets like a tornado until Kanao came in with an inquisitive sheen to her eyes.
Still unnoticed by her adoptive sister, Kanao flipped her coin and only when she was sure of the result, she spoke.
“Nee-san, are you going somewhere?”
“Oh, Kanao,” Shinobu spun around, “I’m glad you’re still up. I’m going on a mission for a few days, maybe longer. Take care of things while I’m gone please.”
Kanao stared blankly for a moment before flipping her coin once more. Looking back up at Shinobu she asked, “Is this about (Y/n)-san?”
Shinobu faltered in her movements slightly, almost undetectable, but not to Kanao’s sharp eyes.
“How could you tell?” Shinobu smiled almost sheepishly, a faint dusting of pink coloring her cheeks. A sign she knew she had been caught.
“You never bring that much medical supplies on missions for simple demon slaying,” Kanao stated plainly. “I know you have been worried about (Y/n)-san lately. Aoi said it was only a matter of time before you took matters into your own hands.”
“I can’t get much past my smart and observant girls, can I?” Shinobu gave her usual default smile, though it looked a bit more prideful than usual. She closed up the final cabinet and secured her medicinal bag over her shoulder. When she approached Kanao she squeezed her shoulders affectionately. “Look out for each other, make sure Naho, Sumi, and Kiyo keep up with their studies as well. I’ll try to be back in two days tops, but it may take longer if (Y/n) insists on being difficult. Goodbye for now, my little sister,” Shinobu released Kanao and waited patiently as the girl looked at the coin in her hand.
“Bye Nee-san, be safe,” Kanao said after a moment. Shinobu’s smile grew especially warm when Kanao had decided to speak on her own without the aid of the coin. With one last nod, Shinobu left the infirmary with a new energy about her.
***
Shinobu ran through the trees until dawn, following after Mochi as he flew above. As much as she wanted to get there as soon as possible, the many sleepless nights over the past two weeks had taken a toll on Shinobu’s physical state. She admonished herself for being so careless. How could she take care of (Y/n) if she couldn’t even take care of herself? She called for Mochi to stop for a moment and the unusual duo took roost on one of the trees thick and gnarled branches.
“How much further?” Shinobu asked, trying to disguise a yawn hidden behind a small hand.
“Be there by midday if rest short,” the bird replied.
Shinobu nodded, drinking a bit of water and stretching before resigning herself to continue on despite her muscles’ protests.
When the sun was at its highest and hottest was when Shinobu saw the weathered home Mochi was circling over. On closer inspection she recognized the insignia of the Wisteria Houses and she couldn’t help but quietly scoff to herself.
“Oh? Hello young lady, how may I help you?”
Shinobu turned and found herself looking down at a frail old woman who was even smaller than her. Realizing she had been staring, Shinobu began to answer the patient woman.
“Good afternoon, I believe you are currently looking over the demon slayer (Y/n), is that correct?”
“(Y/n)-chan? Ah yes, poor girl. She had a rough mission awhile back, she’s lucky she was with a team that night or I’m not sure she would have made it. She’s resting now I believe, but please do come in,” the old woman replied with the sweet raspiness of someone who has lived a full life and turned back towards the house, her hands trembling as she pushed the door open. She ushered Shinobu into a chair and fixed some tea for the exhausted Hashira who graciously accepted the cup.
“It is a rare honor to have a Hashira in my home, may I ask what brings you here?”
“I’m here for (Y/n),” Shinobu answered, assuming that the old woman had simply forgotten already due to her age.
“Yes, is she training under you, a Tsuguko perhaps?”
“Ah, no. She isn’t training under me,” Shinobu denied.
“I apologize, I suppose I just don’t understand then, why a Pillar of the demon slayers is taking time out of her surely busy schedule to tend to a slayer of a lower level who isn’t even under her instruction.” the old woman questioned.
“I’m afraid that is none of your concern.” Shinobu answered with a tight lipped smile. Perhaps this old woman wasn’t as senile as she had previously believed.
“I’m sorry deary, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It’s just that I saw you hopping after (Y/n)-chan’s raven and I thought you may have been the recipient of her sweetly composed letter. She asked me to write it for her you see. She had been fretting over what to say for days the poor thing,” the old woman tutted, raising her own teacup to her lips with a shaky grip.
“I see,” Shinobu nodded. “You are correct though, the letter was for me. That is how I knew that I should come.”
“That’s wonderful, Insect Hashira.” the old woman smiled.
“Hisa-san?”
Shinobu turned expectantly in the direction of the voice she hadn’t heard in months, unaware of the knowing smile the old woman was directing at her.
“Well, come with me young lady. The patient is in no shape to leave her bed,” Hisa explained motioning fo Shinobu to follow her down the hallway. Hisa approached another door and gave it a courtesy knock before sliding the door open.
“Hello (Y/n)-chan, how nice of you to join the world of the living again and look who’s here to visit you...”
Hisa made room for Shinobu to enter the room and the Hashira could feel butterflies fluttering in her stomach as she stepped forward.
“Shinobu!” (Y/n)’s eyes gleamed. She tried to sit up, but Shinobu glided over and pushed her back on the futon.
“Hello (Y/n), we have a lot to talk about,” Shinobu said with a smile, however the dark aura did not go unnoticed by (Y/n) as the heavily bandaged girl shifted her eyes nervously to another corner of the room.
“I’ll give you two some space. Have fun with your girlfriend, (Y/n)-chan,” Hisa waved before shutting the door behind her.
“Sh- We’re not- She’s not my girlfriend!” (Y/n) called back, clearly flustered.
“Oh my (Y/n), have you been embellishing the nature of our relationship?” Shinobu gasped, hiding a teasing smile behind her hand, feigning shock.
“No, of course not!” (Y/n) shook her head, trying to look anywhere that wasn’t Shinobu. She shook her head a bit too furiously, causing her to wince and groan.
Shinobu’s face turned serious as she inspected the bandages wrapped around (Y/n)’s head. Her arms were also tightly bound, slings kept the arms crossed firmly over (Y/n)’s stomach. Shinobu pushed (Y/n)’s hair away from her forehead to get a better look at the blood stained bandage. “When was the last time, Hisa-san was it? When was the last time she changed these bandages?”
“Um, maybe yesterday I think? I’ve been kind of out of it so I’m not totally sure.”
“Someone needs to hold these wisteria locations to higher standards if we really expect anyone to survive in their care,” Shinobu tisked, noting how the loose bandages easily came undone in her fingers.
“Hisa-san does her best, she’s really good honestly, we’ve just been dealing with a lot of demons lately so supplies are thin and more demon slayers have been coming and going than usual,” (Y/n) defended, taking a sharp intake of air when Shinobu’s fingers examined her head wound.
“I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it... This may sting a bit,”
(Y/n) hissed as Shinobu dabbed the head wound with a cold, wet cloth. Washing off the dried blood that was caked there so she could better see the wound. It was more like a large scrape, not a gaping wound as Shinobu had initially feared. “So, care to tell me how this all happened since you neglected to mention it in your letter?”
“Um,” (Y/n) paused to clear her throat, “I’ll try but it’s all kind of fuzzy in my mind.”
“Take your time,” Shinobu encouraged, replacing the bandage on (Y/n)’s head.
“Well, I was with an improvised squad, which isn’t uncommon, but this one guy was not having it,” (Y/n) sighed. “He was acting high and mighty all night. Talking about how the rest of us were slowing him down and just being an arrogant jerk.” (Y/n) recalled, an annoyed look upon her face.
“And how exactly is this leading up to how this all happened?” Shinobu smiled, moving to (Y/n)’s arms to get a proper look at the damage there.
“Oh trust me, he’s a major player in this mess,” (Y/n) huffed. “So anyway, we were tracking this demon, right? We followed its tracks to a cave in the side of the mountain range near a village and turns out there was a whole bunch of them in there—AGH!” (Y/n) jolted, a sharp pain caused by Shinobu yanking her left arm hard and fast, making it crack loudly. “Why the fuck did you do that!?” (Y/n) wheezed.
“Your arm wasn’t properly set. It may push your healing back a bit, but at least when your arm heals it will be in the proper position,” Shinobu explained, now moving her attention to the other arm. “Please continue your story.”
“Alright then,” (Y/n) grumbled, still feeling the bone throb under her skin, “So there was a bunch of them in the cave that came out to attack us and we were outnumbered, but they were relatively low level so it shouldn’t have been a problem. Then that arrogant jerk began using breathing techniques without any regard for the rest of us. He was using stone breathing I’m pretty sure, just one technique after the other and he caused a rockslide!” (Y/n) turned away from Shinobu and had a brief coughing fit from getting so worked up.
“Here, drink this,” Shinobu paused her re-wrapping of (Y/n)’s arms to hold a waterskin of medicated water to (Y/n)’s lips and the slayer graciously accepted, downing almost half the bag.
“Thanks,” (Y/n) sighed.
“You’re welcome,” came Shinobu’s sweet reply.
“So we were having to dodge boulders and fight the demons at the same time. One girl got her ankle slashed, ripped right through her tendon and she couldn’t get out of the way of the rockslide so I was trying to carry her away from the battle zone, but then that idiot got thrown in my direction and had the audacity to use the back of my head as a goddamn springboard to fling himself back into battle and I lost balance and fell forward face first into the dirt. The girl flew out of my arms and rolled a few yards and my arms were out in front of me. Before I could move, a boulder came in and crushed my arms,” (Y/n) explained, looking down at her newly wrapped arms.
“I think I would like to have a word or two with this slayer, is he still in this sector?” Shinobu asked calmly, a dark aura contrasting her tone.
“He is, but I’m afraid he wouldn’t be able to hear what you have to say, he was killed in the battle,” (Y/n) explained. “I didn’t see it, but that’s what Watanabe-san and I were told once we were brought back to safety,”
“Watanabe-san?”
“Oh, she was the slayer with the slashed tendon. We’ve been teamed up a few times in the past. She came here for medical attention but she had family nearby so she’s resting there.”
“She must have be grateful for your help that night, even if you ended up hurt as well, I’m sure she appreciated the effort,” Shinobu smiled as she finished whipping up a tonic for (Y/n)’s aching bones.
“She did, she offered for me to come with her to her uncle’s house but I told her I’d be fine here. I didn’t want to over burden her family.”
“You should have accepted, this place is kind of a dump,” Shinobu whispered with a conspiratorial smirk.
“Shinobu, that’s so rude!” (Y/n) whisper-yelled back at the mischievously smiling Pillar.
“Drink this, you’ll need to build up your strength before we can leave,” Shinobu commanded, pressing the lip of the cup to (Y/n)’s own.
(Y/n) nearly choked on the bitter medicine as Shinobu poured the contents down her throat. She shivered and made a disgusted noise when she finished chugging the mixture.
“That was terrible,” she wheezed, resting her head back down on the pillow.
“Don’t say that (Y/n), you’re hurting my feelings,” Shinobu mocked distress, “I worked so hard to make that for you after all.”
“I’m sorry, did I say terrible? I meant... tolerable, terrific! Thank you for helping me!” (Y/n) fretted, falling for Shinobu’s false grief.
“I’ll forgive you if you come quietly when it’s safe to move you,” she smiled, resting her palms on her knees.
“You keep saying we’re going somewhere. Where are we going? I’m not exactly in fighting shape at the moment,” (Y/n) lifted her slung and bandaged arms off of her stomach for emphasis.
“You’ll continue your recovery back at my estate of course. Did you really think I was going to leave you in this squalor?”
“I really wish you would stop insulting this place, Hisa-san works super hard and she is crazy fast and quiet so she could be anywhere!” (Y/n) shifted her eyes around the room before returning her gaze to Shinobu who seemed unbothered by the information. “I’m fine here, really. You don’t need to worry about me when you probably have more important things to do.”
“Are you questioning my discretion as a Hashira?” Shinobu’s smile grew, but failed to reach her eyes as she peered down at the slayer as if challenging her to speak against her plan again.
“No! Not at all, I just-“
“Great, we’ll leave tomorrow depending on your condition!” Shinobu clapped.
“But, the... the butterflies,” (Y/n) whispered, almost as if just speaking of them would be taken as an invitation to appear.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to protect you in your vulnerable state,” Shinobu smiled more kindly, “Who knows, perhaps we could add exposure therapy to your rehabilitation training.”
“Please don’t,” (Y/n) pleaded.
“I still don’t understand why you dislike butterflies so much. Surely when given the option to fight alone against a demon moon or be in the same room as a butterfly you would pick the latter,” Shinobu cocked her head at (Y/n) who seemed to genuinely be mulling it over and the sight exasperated Shinobu. “Really, (Y/n)? Do you really need to think about it?”
“They just freak me out, okay!” (Y/n) shrugged the best she could, “They flutter around and I can never tell where they’re going! They have those long, skinny legs and creepy eyes and weird curly tongue things it’s just— ugh!” She shuddered.
Shinobu couldn’t help but laugh, making (Y/n) pout and narrow her eyes at her. Even as the tinkling laughter died down Shinobu’s soft expression remained and she allowed herself to smooth over (Y/n)’s hair before gently running a cold knuckle over the bruised skin of the girl’s cheek.
“I’ve missed your antics.” Shinobu sighed, her seraphic voice betraying how tired she was as the small statement slurred together ever so slightly.
“You seem tired, have you been sleeping well?” (Y/n) asked while basking in the attentions of the cool, calloused touch.
“You know how our work goes. I’m fine.”
A knock on the door brought the two girls out of the moment and Shinobu turned her head just as Hisa came in with two bowls of rice and vegetables. Shinobu was briefly impressed by the old woman, of whom she had not sensed an approach.
“Lunch for you two, please enjoy,” Hisa crooned as she set the tray on the low lying table nearby. “And here is bedding and a change of clothes for you should you wish for them Insect Hashira.”
Again Shinobu was a bit perplexed over the old woman’s ghostly ability. How had she not noticed the bundle of fabrics Hisa only now seemed to have carried? Perhaps she was too tired Shinobu mused, watching the old woman set up the futon for her.
“I’ll be there in just a moment to help you eat, (Y/n)-chan.” Hisa smiled as she patted the covers smooth.
“No need to trouble yourself, Hisa-san. I can take everything over from here,” Shinobu politely waved her off. “Please leave the rest of (Y/n)’s care to me.”
“If that is what you wish. Call if you require anything.” Hisa finished setting up Shinobu’s sleeping arrangements before slipping out of the room and sliding the door shut behind her.
Shinobu hummed quietly and got up to collect the food from the table, opting instead to set the tray at (Y/n)’s bedside. She lifted one of the bowls and pinched a sprout with the chopsticks and held it before (Y/n)’s face. “Say ahhhh,” She taunted playfully, waving the food before (Y/n)’s lips.
“You don’t need to feed me I can do it myself.” (Y/n) could feel her cheeks heat up as Shinobu persisted with her actions.
“What a bold faced lie, (Y/n). Or perhaps you hit your head harder than I thought? You do see how tightly I bound your arms, correct? Now open up, we don’t want to make a mess now do we?”
(Y/n) looked down at her covered arms slung snuggly over her stomach and made a soft sound of embarrassment. She turned shyly to Shinobu and received the bite, looking away bashfully as she chewed and swallowed.
“See that wasn’t so bad. Have some more, your body needs fuel to help it heal.” Shinobu spoke cheekily and raised the chopsticks again.
Shinobu continued feeding (Y/n) bite after bite until the bowl was empty. Then she replaced the used bowl with the full one waiting nearby and began eating her own lunch. She still sat by (Y/n)’s side and shared in conversation as she ate. Despite the plainness of the small meal, Shinobu felt like it was the best thing she’d eaten in a long time. Though she suspects it was as Mitsuri often told her, it’s the company with which one shares the meal that makes it taste so much better.
Shinobu’s lips curl into a small, sweet smile as she watches (Y/n)’s eyelids droop. When (Y/n) attempts to hide a yawn with her shoulder, Shinobu helps her lay back down from her reclined position. She only teasingly stroked (Y/n)’s hair three or four times before the slayer passed out. The smile grew a bit more proud as she realized (Y/n)’s total concentration breathing persisted even in her sleep. Shinobu studied the exhausted yet, peaceful expression. Drinking in the face she hadn’t seen in months, she wondered how a girl she had only met in person for a short period of time could already have such a prominent place in her mind.
Shinobu stretched her arms over her head and popped her spine, releasing a relaxed sigh as the tension escaped her back. The many nights of minimal, restless sleep had really taken a toll. She shuffled over to her own bed roll, only taking a moment to remove her blade, hairpin, and haori before slipping into the covers and succumbing to a deep, dreamless sleep.
***
It was well in to the next morning when Shinobu finally stirred. She fought with herself to sit up, a soft groan of displeasure left her mouth as she left the heat of her blanketed cocoon. She lazily scanned the room, her eyebrows knit together once her gaze landed on the empty futon a few meters away from her own. Her ear picked up the faint sounds of a struggle coming from the next room and her senses went into high alert.
Shinobu got up and grabbed her saya, a practiced hand poised over the hilt of her nichirin blade, she edged the door open with her foot and—
“Ahh!” (Y/n) squeaked and turned away from Shinobu to cover herself with her rumpled uniform top.
“Oh, (Y/n),” Shinobu laughed, “What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to get dressed, obviously. Can you leave please?” (Y/n) asked, trying to shoo the Hashira away.
“How long have you been trying to fit your fitted sleeves over those thick bandages?” Shinobu asked instead, smirking and leaning against the door frame.
“...I don’t want to talk about it.” (Y/n) mumbled, her shoulders slouched.
Shinobu giggled and made to approach, picking up the discarded kimono that (Y/n) had worn the previous day. “Your uniform would probably make traveling more comfortable, but I really rather not have to unwrap your arms. I recommend you keep wearing this, at least until we get home.”
“But it’s not practical, what if we encounter a demon?” (Y/n) worried.
“No offense (Y/n), but no matter what you wear, you won’t be much help with a fight in your condition,” Shinobu gave a sympathetic smile as she held out the kimono and discretely eyed (Y/n)’s scar, the previous injury that had brought them together. “Of course, if you’d rather go topless who am I to judge?” She teased.
“Oh my gods, give me that!” (Y/n) took the kimono from an all too pleased Shinobu and nudged her toward the door. “It took me twenty minutes just to put on pants, sorry that I would rather not let that struggle go to waste.” (Y/n) grumped, frown deepening at Shinobu’s tinkling laughter.
“If you need any help, just ask. I’d like to leave while it’s still light out.” Shinobu called through the door.
Shinobu took her time fixing her hair and packing up her supplies, but once that was done she was pretty much ready to go. She pulled on her haori and accepted a late breakfast from Hisa and she casually taunted (Y/n) through the door as she ate.
Finally, the berated girl emerged from the separate room wearing the kimono and her haori draped over her shoulders, looking almost as exhausted as yesterday. (Y/n) loosely held onto her uniform which Shinobu took from her to pack tightly into her bag.
“Oh dear,” Shinobu tutted, “You already tired yourself out haven’t you?”
“I can still walk, despite everything else my legs somehow are fine.”
“In that case,” Shinobu reached out and pinched (Y/n)’s thigh causing the other girl to let out a surprised, slightly pained yelp.
“What was that for?” (Y/n) hissed, gingerly rubbing the sore spot through her kimono.
“For removing your slings. You could have upset the alignment of your arms.” Shinobu scolded gently as she moved to fit the slings back around (Y/n)‘s arms and neck. Once she was satisfied, she helped (Y/n) eat breakfast, which was technically lunch at this point.
Shinobu gathered the rest of (Y/n)’s meager belongings, most noticeably her nichirin blade, and hefted her bag over her shoulder. (Y/n) offered to carry it, but Shinobu refused. Once they were ready to leave, Hisa created sparks for them and wished them good fortune during their journey. Shinobu and (Y/n) thanked Hisa, bid her goodbye and headed out.
Mochi cawed joyously and flew circles around the girls as they walked through the nearby village. He was causing a scene, but (Y/n) let him have his fun. He was just excited to be out and about with his slayer again.
“(L/n)-san!”
(Y/n) stopped and turned her head, prompting Shinobu to do the same. “Oh, Watanabe-san, hi!”(Y/n) greeted the girl hunched over a crutch with a couple small children circling her. They had also stopped to stare up at the boisterous raven.
“You aren’t heading out on a mission right now are you?” Watanabe asked, worry evident as she hobbled closer. She hadn’t even acknowledged Shinobu’s presence, instead focusing her wide eyes solely on (Y/n).
“Oh no,” (Y/n) shook her head, “Just transferring health care facilities. Kochou-sama’s orders.” (Y/n) half joked, turning to the Pillar next her and finally tearing Watanabe’s eyes away from her to look over at Shinobu.
“Kochou-sama!” Watanabe gasped and bowed clumsily at the waist. “I’m sorry I hadn’t realized sooner-“
“It’s fine, your off duty. Relax.” Shinobu gave the girl a small smile. Watanabe released a relieved sigh and a polite ‘thank you’ before eagerly turning her attention back to (Y/n).
“Well, this was good timing seeing as you’re leaving already,” Watanabe chuckled nervously. “I was just coming by to thank you again for saving me that night.”
“No need to thank me,” (Y/n) replied bashfully. “We both ended up in bad shape by the end of the night. If it wasn’t for the others we wouldn’t have made it back anyway.”
“It still means a lot to me. We’ve been on quite a few missions together now and it feels good to know that I can trust you to have my back.” Watanabe explained, a small dusting of blush appearing over her cheeks caused Shinobu’s smile to subtly twitch. “And I love to have yours too of course!” She said. Then she paused a moment before trying to amend her statement, “I mean like, you’ve got my back and I’ve got yours when we’re killing demons and stuff!”
“Yeah, I got it.” (Y/n) laughed. “I’m glad.”
“Kawa-nee,” one of the young children spoke up, tugging at Watanabe’s clothes, “Is she that girl you talk about all the time? The one you think is really pre—“
“Is really pre, pre- professional and good at her job? Yes, that’s our (L/n)-san haha!” Watanabe squished the little boy’s cheeks until his lips were pouty and protruding harshly. “Little cousins, such a handful!” Despite looking horrified, she tittered and blushed, her hands still smushing the poor boy’s face.
“Can I pet your birb?” Another child asked from behind Watanabe, pointing to Mochi still screaming in the sky.
“Uh-“
“I’m afraid we need to keep moving along,” Shinobu interjected before (Y/n) could speak. “(Y/n) is already quite tired in her weakened state and I’d hate to have her traipsing around in the dark longer than necessary. Surely you understand.”
“Of course Kochou-sama, forgive us,” Watanabe ran a hand through her hair, her face beet red with a sheepish expression. “I guess this is goodbye for now, (L/n)-san. I wish you a full and speedy recovery. I hope to be fighting by your side again soon!” The girl spoke sincerely, “And you know, maybe hang out sometime...” she added quietly under her breath. It was something that clearly wasn’t meant to be heard but it didn’t escape Shinobu’s acute hearing as the Pillar fought to not roll her eyes.
“Thanks, Watanabe-san. I wish you an excellent recovery too, rest well,” (Y/n) beamed, seemingly unaware of the effect she had on her poor fellow slayer.
“Yes, goodbye now. Lovely meeting you,” Shinobu waved with one hand and placed the other at the small of (Y/n)’s back to usher her along. Even as (Y/n) got into a steady gait, Shinobu persisted with her touch and gave Watanabe a plastic smile over her shoulder before redirecting her attention to (Y/n), her fingers pressing a hint further into the fabric at (Y/n)’s back as she gently pushed her out of the small, bustling village.
***
They had traveled a few decent kilometers and the sun had passed its highest point. Mochi had finally grown tired of his circling and took a precarious perch on the slant of (Y/n)’s shoulder as she and Shinobu continued to walk through the twisted woods.
“Do tell me when you need to rest, (Y/n). I don’t wish for you to pass out on me, I’ve got enough things to carry as is.” Shinobu spoke, breaking the comfortable silence that had surrounded them for awhile now.
“I’ll be fine,” (Y/n) spoke with an ill timed cough.
“Perhaps a quick break is in order after all.” Shinobu frowned, placing the back of her hand on (Y/n)’s scalding forehead she winced internally. “You’re burning up. We’re pushing too hard, rest.”
“I can keep going Shinobu, really.  I don’t want to slow you down any more than I already have.”
“(Y/n), I’m out here because I want to be. There is nothing more important to me in this moment than your well-being. Now sit under this shady tree, drink some of this medicated water, and rest.” Shinobu commanded, helping (Y/n) lower herself to the ground and offering a waterskin for the girl to drink from.
“Mmm ‘kay.” (Y/n) mumbled, too tired to argue further.
Shinobu simpered at the injured slayer then stood and turned to take in her surroundings. She looked to the trees above and counted veiny offshoots of the sun illuminated greenery above, killing time until (Y/n) could travel more ground.
I’m going to need to be especially vigilant tonight.
“ShinobuShinobuShinobuShinobu!”
Shinobu whipped her head around back to (Y/n) heart racing she was by her side in an instant and cupped the quivering girl’s cheeks in her hands. Her eyes switching between (Y/n) and the surrounding environment rapidly to try to understand what could possibly have upset her so- oh.
“Shinobu!”
“I see, I see. Don’t worry, I’ve got it.” Shinobu released the tension she had been holding and moved to shoo away the small black butterfly that was happily perched on one of the roots of the tree. She watched as it fluttered a few meters away to the trunk of another tree before Mochi spooked it even further away. She wanted to be mad at (Y/n), to scold her for scaring so badly over something that couldn’t possibly hurt her, but instead she smiled tenderly and crouched down to sit next to the quaking girl and pulled her into a caring embrace, having (Y/n)’s head rest in the crook of her neck.
“Don’t worry. I’m watching it, just focusing on your breathing. I’m here.” Shinobu cooed as (Y/n) hid her face in Shinobu’s chest.
True to her word, Shinobu watched the insect flutter around as Mochi attempted to chase it away. She found it odd that the butterfly would continue to stick around after being repeatedly dive bombed by the bird, but she didn’t think too much of it. Shinobu shifted her position ever so carefully to get a bit more comfortable since she could tell (Y/n) had fallen asleep. Whether out of stress or just plain physical exhaustion she wasn’t quite sure, but she’d wager that both played a part.
She allowed the girl to sleep a while longer, enjoying the simplicity of this rare peaceful moment and committing it to memory. They only had a few hours of daylight left now, so Shinobu begrudgingly patted (Y/n)’s back.
“(Y/n), it’s time to start moving again.” Shinobu’s seraphic voice called out.
(Y/n) groaned and shook her sleep addled head from her position on Shinobu’s shoulder, her nose grazed the side of Shinobu’s neck as she did so.
“(Y/n), night will soon befall us. We must go. However, once we get back to the Estate, you may sleep on me all you want if that’s what you desire.”
(Y/n)’s head shot up and she fell back against the roots away from Shinobu’s flirtatiously teasing smile, feeling the heat radiating off her face increase ten fold.
“Sorry!” (Y/n) stuttered out. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep!”
“No need to apologize, you looked very cute. So cuddly too,” Shinobu teased as she helped the poor girl to her feet. Before (Y/n) could reply, Shinobu pushed (Y/n) forward, her hand taking a now familiar perch over (Y/n)’s obi. “Let’s be on our way! Mochi, you can stop tormenting that butterfly now,” she spoke over her shoulder to the raven and watched him dive at the insect one last time before soaring above their heads.
“Why do you keep guiding me by the waist? I know how to get to where we’re going,” (Y/n) asked while staring warily over her shoulder at the black butterfly dodging a beam of light to continue lurking in the shaded grove.
“The forest floor is covered in gnarled roots and jagged rocks. I’d hate for you to trip and not be able to break your fall.” Shinobu explained. “Like that,” she giggled her whole arm now curled around (Y/n)’s waist as she pulled the girl back up before (Y/n)’s tripping could completely fell her. “You should really watch where you’re stepping.”
“But I need to watch the butterfly!” (Y/n) insisted, still looking back despite Shinobu’s advice.
“I’m standing right beside you.”
“What are you- oh, I see what you did there, Insect Pillar.” (Y/n) chuckled.
Shinobu continued to distract (Y/n) from her fear as they walked on. Telling (Y/n) about the last visit Tanjirou and his squad paid to the Butterfly Estate as well as an embarrassing story about Tomioka Giyuu that had both girls snickering at the poor man’s misfortune.
As dusk fell over the forest, Shinobu estimated they would make it home in a couple more hours. To travel by darkness wasn’t safe for numerous reasons, but at least they had a lovely full moon to light the way.
The conversation between the two girls naturally died off as the pinks and oranges of the sunset disappeared and night fell. It was necessary for them to stay alert of their surroundings, to be able to hear even the slightest shift in the wind beneath the near deafening songs of cicadas and crickets. Even Mochi flew high above the trees, silently searching for anything amiss.
(Y/n) shivered as a cool breeze shook the leaves of the trees and wished she could pull her haori more tightly over herself. She casually glanced to her left but soon did a double take, swiveling her whole head to the side and pausing in her footsteps. This alerted Shinobu as her hand stayed at (Y/n)’s back.
(Y/n) thought she had saw something. Something small and dark crossed the edge of her vision but whatever it was, if it was anything at all, was gone now. She turned to shake her head at Shinobu to communicate the momentary pause before they continued on the path with near silent footfalls.
They weren’t much further along when another dark shape crossed (Y/n)’s peripheral. Another chill overtook (Y/n)’s body and she could feel the little hairs on the back of her neck prickle to attention. She pursed her lips and side stepped out of Shinobu’s touch and stopped walking.
(Y/n) flickered her eyes between Shinobu’s and her blade twice. The Hashira interpreted the expression easily and poised her now free hand over the hilt of her blade as she scanned the thick woods around them. This part of the forest let in precious little light from the moon, only a few sporadic beams managed to kiss the cold earth below.
The cicadas and crickets had gone quiet.
Another particularly strong gust of howling wind rattled the leaves and pushed at the young slayers’ clothes and hair, yet still nothing emerged from the darkness. Shinobu and (Y/n) knew better than to lower their guard now however.
A few tense, painfully quiet minutes passed before (Y/n) heard it. A faint ‘fwtfwtfwt’ steadily growing in intensity. (Y/n) looked over to Shinobu who nodded in her direction. The Hashira had lowered her bag and (Y/n)’s sheathed blade to the ground in the nook between two roots of a nearby tree before withdrawing her own poison laced blade from its saya and holding it at the ready.
The noise grew louder, sounding like paper flapping rapidly in a windstorm and (Y/n) couldn’t stop the scream that shot out from her throat and escaped through Shinobu’s hastily placed finger tips that had been slapped over her lips.
Butterflies, at least a hundred if they had to guess, emerged from the darkness with the same inky black color of the one they encountered in the earlier that day.
(Y/n)’s lips quivered against Shinobu’s hand and the rest of her shook just as violently, yet her feet remained as firmly placed as a statue. Too consumed by fear to even think about bolting away.
There was nowhere to run anyway, the butterflies flew around them from all angles, more waiting just beyond the trees.
“You found my dinner have you, my lovelies?” A gravelly voice called from the darkness, followed by a sound that was like a dusty cackle mixed with a cough. “She moves rather quickly for being in such a weak state.”
A looming figure finally caught a beam of moonlight and (Y/n) wished desperately to have missed the state of such a miserable looking creature. It was a decrepit looking thing, a grotesque demon with two obscenely large, vacant compound eyes that protruded far from its face. The demon’s faded blue kimono was torn and frayed at the hem, revealing bare feet caked in dried blood and dirt. It was an old, ragged relic that paid homage to humanity long since lost.
“Ahh, there’s the damaged goods,” The demon smiled sinisterly at (Y/n), its bulbous eyes unmoving, “Just the scent of your fear alone is oh so delectable. I can’t wait to taste the rest!” the demon’s voice crackled, its neck craned to scrutinize (Y/n)’s form, a long, wire thin tongue escaped chapped lips for a moment in a poor attempt to wet them.
“Ara, what an abomination you are,” Shinobu taunted, stepping in front of (Y/n) to obscure her from the demon’s view, “You’ve really made a mess of things you know? I was going to help (Y/n) get used to butterflies but showing your repulsive form has surely driven her further into fear. I’ll have to dispose of you quickly for causing such a setback.” Shinobu spoke, her lips quirked upward in a kind of smile that somehow radiated pure anger and disgust.
“Be gone, slayer. Your blood is no good. My babies have whispered of you. They assessed you in the daylight, the girl is slowing you, leave her to me. You cannot protect her while fighting my kaleidoscope, leave her now and you’ll live to see another sun.” The demon spoke as if it was being most generous, even chivalrous, with its proposal.
“My, what ludicrous words you speak. I have half a mind to cut out your tongue over such a suggestion. My blade may not be suited for chopping heads, but for this purpose it should work just fine!” Shinobu leapt up into the trees, the sudden movement was followed by a swarm of black butterflies.
(Y/n) was breathing heavily, trying to regain total concentration with no success. She had no idea what to do. She had no way of helping Shinobu in her condition. There was nowhere to go-
“Mochi!” (Y/n) yelled out into the sky. The raven was busy avoiding a smaller swarm of demon insects, performing various swoops and dives to stay out of their way. “Lose those butterflies and go to the Estate! Get help!” The raven released a distressed caw, reluctant to leave his slayer behind, but with a few well made aerial maneuvers he spun away from the insects’ traps and flew off into the night. But not before squawking an ominous warning.
“Careful, draw much blood so sharp!”
“Blood, sharp? What-“
“Troublesome girl, by the time anyone gets here the only thing left to help with will be cleaning your entrails from the moss and roots!” The demon lurched forward, the motion encouraged (Y/n) to finally find her legs, bolting just before the demon could reach her with its gnarled claws. She could feel the displaced air from the missed swipe at her neck.
“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck!” (Y/n) must have yelled the expletive a thousand times as she stumbled away from the hungry beast, between the length of her kimono and the binding of her arms her efforts alone would surely not be enough to escape.
“Run all you like, my babies show me all. Even now I see the other human hopping amongst the branches above looking for an opening she won’t find. It’s all hopeless.”
As the demon slowed its pursuit, butterflies flanked (Y/n)’s sides as she continued to run. She made a particularly hard turn and fell forward, having just enough forethought to twist so her back hit the ground rather than her slung arms.
As she tried to bring herself back to her feet, something caught her eyes that made them blow wide open. The butterflies that had been hot on her trail had been embedded deep into the bark of the tree she had ducked behind. As she processed the information the demon drew closer in the moonlight until its shadow loomed over (Y/n) who was still struggling to get up.
“You’re mine!” The demon snarled, unfurling its whiplike tongue.
“Dance of the Bee Sting: True Flutter!” Shinobu had re-emerged from the shadows of the trees at lightning speed, her blade poised to strike deep within the demon’s back.
The demon grinned wickedly, (Y/n) could see herself reflected in its gargantuan eyes, as well as another wave of butterflies flying around her in a beeline towards Shinobu.
“Sharp!” (Y/n) finally understood, but everything was happening much too fast. “Shinobu, stop!” (Y/n) screamed.
Shinobu’s breath hitched and she changed her trajectory at the very last moment to take a forward tumble and land a few meters away from the demon’s side. She quickly burst forward once her feet made contact with the earth and less than gracefully scooped (Y/n) from the ground, half carrying her as she continued to hop away.
“I hope you had good reason for that little outburst,” Shinobu’s voice strained as she tried to maintain her grip, her arms already aching. A familiar self loathing at her lack of physical strength bubbling to the surface.
“Shinobu, the butterflies’ wings are sharp enough to slice into trees. You would have been cut into ribbons if you flew into them!” (Y/n) hastily informed. “The demon said it could see through the butterflies, so even if its not looking directly at you, if there is a butterfly tailing you it knows where you are!”
“What an annoying creature,” Shinobu huffed, as she struggled to lean (Y/n) against a large boulder to help her regain her footing. “Long range battles are less than favorable.”
“It’s only a matter of time before it catches up again, what can we do? Mochi probably hasn’t even made it to the Estate yet,” (Y/n) murmured worriedly, mind whirring as fast as possible to come up with a solution.
“You needn’t worry, (Y/n),” Shinobu brushed her fingers over (Y/n)’s jaw and tilted her head so their eyes would meet, “I merely stated that long range unfavorable, in order to kill this demon, I’ll simply have to move so fast that it won’t matter if it can see me coming and remove those pesky eyes.” She smiled.
“But Shinobu-!”
“(Y/n), I certainly hope you aren’t doubting my abilities. Perhaps in your very lax use of titles and honorifics you’ve forgotten that I hold rank over you, yes? The highest rank a demon slayer can achieve?”
“I’m very sorry, Kochou-sama! That wasn’t my intention!” (Y/n) bowed awkwardly, a nervous sweat rolling off her brow.
“I didn’t say you had to stop being informal with me, just trust that I know what I’m doing, silly girl,” Shinobu smiled affectionately at her chagrined companion before spinning gracefully on her toes to face the dark abyss that was steadily growing louder, her nichirin sword at the ready, “Now, listen carefully and do as I say...”
***
A few moments later, they were under attack once again, the butterflies descended upon them in a flurry, but they were ready.
(Y/n) and Shinobu split off, a majority of the demon bugs swarmed after Shinobu as (Y/n) clambered back to where Shinobu had discarded her bag. It was still quite a ways off and (Y/n) could only hope the demon was as slow as Shinobu believed it to be. Sure, it seemed to take pause during a few points in its chase, but it could just as easily be toying with them.
(Y/n) nearly tripped due to a shallow hole in the dirt, but was lucky enough to regain her balance and keep going despite the disruption of her forward momentum. She must have cursed her useless arms over a million times in the last ten minutes alone.
“I really hope you know what you’re doing Shinobu!” (Y/n) hissed to herself as one butterfly got to close and managed to swipe her cheek, a streak of blood mingled with stinging sweat.
Finally she saw the discarded bag and her sword which she wished desperately to be able to use. She had no time to stop and figure out how to pick the bag up so she made a little prayer that her uniform would cushion the valuable vials Shinobu said were inside and kicked the bag high into the air, managing to catch the strap in her teeth, and kept running.
(Y/n) made a large arc around another thick grouping of trees and began making her way back into Shinobu’s general area. (Y/n)’s head and heart were pounding and her vision was blurring dangerously. And that was the least of her problems. Adrenaline or no, (Y/n) was sure she was at her limit and was going to crash very soon.
“I have grown tired of this game!”
(Y/n) cried out as the demon lunged from the shadows and tackled her to the ground, it’s mouth frothing and dripping foamy saliva onto (Y/n)’s kimono. (Y/n) managed to kick the demon off and she scooted frantically backwards, watching the angry monster crawl after her with its tongue lashing at her retreating ankles.
“This wasn’t part of the plan! This wasn’t part of the plan!” (Y/n) chanted to herself as she ripped one of her arms free from its sling, wincing through the pain as she straightened it and dug through the bag while still scrambling backward.
“Uhehehe! You’re little friend is busy with a special addendum of this demon blood technique of mine. I left her with enough of my babies to make a clone of myself. There are no obvious differences to be found, she will die believing she was truly facing off with me,” the demon cackled, fully clutching onto (Y/n)’s ankle and dragging her back, “little did she know I was really here, devouring her friend!”
“Devour this, bitch!” (Y/n)’s arm withdrew from the bag with a surgical syringe in her bandaged fist and stabbed it deep into the nearest eye of the miserable creature, draining the purple liquid into the gelatinous mass.
The demon roughly pushed the girl back and released a most horrendously shrill scream into the night. It reeled back on its haunches and clutched at its face.
“What have you done to me! My eyes! My eyes!” It bellowed, its eyes had begun to deteriorate at a rapid pace, a purplish red puss leaked from its tear ducts as it blindly grasped at (Y/n)’s legs. “I’ll make you wish you were never born!”
(Y/n)’s eyes clenched shut, she had no strength left to continue fighting, everything hurt so much she couldn’t even move to defend herself any longer. She could feel the hot breath against her neck, but then the sensation was quickly replaced with that of the cool night breeze and her eyes shot open to see a pure white haori flutter against her cheek.
“Kanao-san!” (Y/n) cheered, her expression one of euphoric disbelief.
“Where did you go you slippery little worm!” The demon shrieked, ripping madly at the ground with its claws.
Kanao stopped a safe distance away from the ranting beast and laid (Y/n) onto the grass and began assessing the beyond beat up slayer before her.
“Wait, Kanao-san, the demon needs to be dealt with and we need to find Kochou-sama.” (Y/n)’s speech was hurried and a bit slurred, it was becoming increasingly more difficult to stay present in the moment and (Y/n) was trying very hard to stay lucid to update Kanao on the situation.
Kanao stared down at (Y/n) then up at the writhing demon, then back down at (Y/n). She gingerly adjusted (Y/n’s neck and head so that she was looking back at her tormentor of the night and could see what was about to take place. (Y/n)’s heart filled with relief as a familiar blur, that was truly very blurry at this point, ambushed the demon from the trees. “She’s okay...”
“Dance of the Dragonfly: Compound Eye Hexagon!” Shinobu speedily stabbed the demon multiple times, injecting it full of her poison. She was absolutely furious. Not only had the demon wasted her time with that cheap parlor trick clone, it had left (Y/n) in worse shape than Shinobu had found her in the care of the Wisteria House.
She dug her heel harshly into the demon’s ribs once she got a good look at (Y/n) as Kanao tended to her. Shinobu’s jaw set tightly and she glared darkly at the demon writhing and gasping under her foot.
“You,” Shinobu spoke lowly. “I wish I could kill you a hundred more times, but this will have to do. I’ve used my most agonizing blend of poison after all.” She waited for the demon to release one final wheeze before stepping away, crushing a wilting remnant of a demonic butterfly into ash beneath her foot as she made her way over to Kanao and an unconscious (Y/n) with a visibly pained expression.
“Thank you for your impeccable timing and diligence. When I heard that scream I thought... You got to her just in time,” Shinobu knelt down opposite Kanao, beside (Y/n), checking over the girl’s body for any injury that could not wait to be dealt with.
“Mochi was invaluable. I wouldn’t have even known to come to the forest without him. He’s guiding a couple Kakushi here as we speak,” Kanao reported as she would upon completing a mission.
“I’m glad,” Shinobu twined her idle fingers with those on (Y/n)’s left hand and closed her eyes wearily. “I’ve done nothing but put her in danger tonight. She needs to be kept in hands stronger than mine.”
Kanao hesitantly reached out and covered (Y/n) and Shinobu’s joined hands with her own, meeting her sister’s curious gaze a bit nervously. “I... I don’t think (Y/n)-san could be in more capable hands than your own, Neesan.”
“She’s right.”
Kanao and Shinobu blinked at each other before tilting their heads downward to find half open (e/c) eyes staring back up at them.
“It was a strange and clever demon, it targeted me specifically because it observed my injuries and knew I’d be easy pray. If I had been at the top of my game, or if you didn’t have to worry about me, you would have been able to take out that demon much faster. It took advantage of us, so don’t belittle yourself, please.” (Y/n) smiled warmly and weakly squeezed Shinobu’s fingers.
“You’re too kind,” Shinobu gave a small smile in return, “Don’t strain yourself now, rest.” She spoke softly, but (Y/n) continued to babble in her feverish, exhausted haze.
“I just don’t want you to be sad, you know? You work so hard and you’re so cool and smart and beautiful so, yeah, gods I’m so tired. Imma take a nap righ’ here. Night.”
“(Y/n), (Y/n)!”
“Ah!”
Mochi had swooped in from high above the trees and landed on (Y/n)’s chest with wings outstretched and proceeded to hop around her torso and cry with relief.
Shinobu gently admonished the bird, offering her arm as a more acceptable perch as (Y/n) groaned and turned in on herself.
“Kochou-sama, Tsuyuri-sama!” two Kakushi called as they emerged from the trees, one cradled (Y/n)’s sword in their arms as they made their hasty approach.
“Oh gods, you again?” One of the Kakushi griped once he caught sight of (Y/n) on the ground. “You aren’t going to fight me when I pick you up again, are you?”
(Y/n) pouted and shook her head slightly, fighting to keep consciousness despite claiming that she was going to sleep.
“Shinobu promised to keep the butterflies away, it’s fine.” She mumbled, forgoing usual formalities that she would normally use in the presence of others.
“What do butterflies have to do with anything?” the other Kakushi wondered aloud, scratching their head with the hilt of (Y/n)’s blade.
“Just ignore her, it’s been a long night and I’d like to get home,” Shinobu waved them off, trying to distract from (Y/n)’s slip of her self proclaimed, ‘most embarrassing secret’.
The gruff Kakushi picked (Y/n) up and with a little help from Kanao, got her slung over his back.
“Ugh, everything hurts. Don’t bounce so much,” (Y/n) whined, her voice muffled by the Kakushi’s back.
“Quit complaining I-“
“Do be gentle with her please,” Shinobu interjected, she gripped the Kakushi’s shoulder and gave him a dazzling smile that shook him to his very core.
“Y-yes ma’am!”
***
(Y/n) awoke several hours later. She was disoriented, but clean and warm in the comfort of the Butterfly Estate’s infirmary.
“(Y/n)-san woke up!” Kiyo exclaimed from (Y/n)’s side, startling the girl from her haze between sleep and wakefulness.
“Hey, Kiyo, how long was I out?” (Y/n) asked the small girl at her bedside who was quickly joined by Naho and Sumi scurrying over from the opposite side of the room.
“You’ve been asleep for over three days since you got back. Shinobu-sama slept a lot too. Not as much as you, but once she had you taken care of she slept almost all day!” Kiyo informed. “It’s been awhile since Shinobu-sama has slept so soundly.”
“I’m glad she’s been resting. That fight was, kind of intense to say the least,” (Y/n) shuddered just thinking about that battle. She was sure she’d be seeing long, whipping tongues, bulbous eyes and razor sharp butterflies in her nightmares from now on. She needed to become even stronger. “Has Kochou-sama said anything about when my recovery training will begin to you girls?”
“Hmmm no,” Sumi shook her head.
“She just asked to make sure you don’t leave your cot and to call for her if your condition worsened.” Naho supplied.
“You are in no shape to even think about recovery training right now.”
Everyone jumped and turned to the door, observing Shinobu as she crossed the threshold into the infirmary. The younger girls parted for Shinobu, the Hashira took ahold of (Y/n)’s chin and jaw in one hand and gently turned it this way and that to check the cuts and bruises that marred the slayer’s face. She released a quiet, satisfactory hum seeing that nothing appeared infected. As she continued her evaluation, she continued to speak, “Your body has been through a considerable amount of stress to say the least. The way I see it, you’ll be out of commission for a couple months at the very least.”
“A couple months? But—!”
“Shhh,” Shinobu adjusted her hand to cover (Y/n)’s lips and stifle her protests. “I will hear no ‘buts’ about it. This is not up for debate. Now you will not leave this bed until I have personally cleared you to do so. Have I made myself clear?” Shinobu’s eyes stare relentlessly into (Y/n)’s, almost threateningly so, as she slides her hand to rest on the bedridden slayer’s shoulder, awaiting an answer.
“Crystal clear,” (Y/n) squeaked, trying to sink further into the bed. Shinobu squeezed their shoulder gingerly before withdrawing her hand completely with a satisfied smile.
“I’m glad you understand,” Shinobu hummed approvingly. “Now, you must be hungry. Girls,” she turned to Sumi, Kiyo and Naho, “see if Aoi needs help with dinner, please.”
“Yes, Shinobu-sama!” the girls nodded vigorously, waving goodbye before disappearing out of the room and down the hall with the soft thuds of tiny feet on wood.
“Can you tell me how you’re feeling?” Shinobu asked, directing her attention back to (Y/n).
“Hmm? Oh, I’m okay. Just, tired. Sore.” (Y/n) startled a bit, hoping it hadn’t been too obvious that she had been staring at Shinobu while the youngest girls of the estate took their leave.
“I see,” Shinobu hummed, setting herself to sit on the edge of the bed, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” (Y/n) flexed her ankle, hitting her foot against Shinobu’s side, “I wish you would believe me when I say that.”
“It’s hard to argue the contrary. I did take you away from the Wisteria House after all. As shoddy as the building is, at least the wisteria would have kept you safe.”
(Y/n) moved to kick at Shinobu again, but the Hashira blocked the foot, leveling a warning glance at the bedridden slayer.
“You know, I was really surprised when you came.” (Y/n) admitted, turning to look out the window. She flinched when she noticed the butterfly on the other side, but kept her eyes on it, watching. “It made me really happy, actually.”
Shinobu blinked, unsure of how to proceed. She didn’t need to however as (Y/n) kept talking.
“I had been looking for an excuse to come by, to visit. I didn’t know what you’d think. I thought that you were just fine with being pen pals and me showing up would be weird, and then I thought about the butterflies and I just lost my nerve every time I thought about it. And then I got hurt again and I thought the letter I had Hisa-san write would be good enough for you, but you came to see me for yourself,” (Y/n) paused and gulped nervously, still watching the butterfly as it was joined by another.
“I’m rambling, aren’t I? I just wanted to tell you that it meant a lot that you would take time to come look after me when your so busy. Even when it got dangerous, I can’t say that I regretted it because I was just happy to be with you— Eep!”
Shinobu moved from her perch at the end of the bed to lay over (Y/n)’s body, her face hidden in (Y/n)’s neck.
“Shinobu!”
(Y/n) felt rumblings over her neck and chest growing in intensity and although it hurt, she smiled brightly as Shinobu’s laughter racked her body.
“Thank you.” Shinobu chuckled once she had reined in her laughter. “That was very sweet of you to say. Aren’t you embarrassed to speak so candidly?”
“Should I be?” (Y/n) asked, nervously. “Oh gods, I didn’t read this wrong, did I?”
Shinobu rose herself to rest on her elbow, her other hand raised to silence the girl below her before her second guessing got too out of hand and tapped her nose playfully. The action drawing (Y/n)’s up to Shinobu’s filled with mirth and warmth.
“You have nothing to worry about. Relax, don’t over exert yourself.”
“So, you...?”
“Mhmmm,” Shinobu smiled, curing a lock of (Y/n)’s hair between her fingers, “so don’t stress. After all, we’ll be seeing a lot of each other while you heal over the next few months. And then, once you heal and are able to take on missions again, maybe you won’t have to think twice about coming over for a visit, hm?”
“I- I suppose not.” (Y/n) smiled bashfully at the butterfly goddess above her.
“Shinobu-sama, you’re going to crush her!”
Shinobu and (Y/n) whipped their heads to the door where Aoi, Kanao, and three mildly concerned young girls stood with food trays in hand.
“My, I’m not that heavy am I? Choose your answer wisely,” Shinobu cocked her head playfully in (Y/n)’s direction, watching her shake her head and laugh.
“Not at all my lady. No more heavy than a blanket really.”
“Ugh, is this what I’m going to have to put up with now?” Aoi groaned and rolled her eyes, placing a tray on the nightstand beside (Y/n)’s bed while fighting the smile that threatened to tug at her lips.
Aoi watched as the younger girls cheered and giggled, crawling on to the bed to chatter on about anything that came to mind as they ate their own dinners. Even Kanao had pulled up a chair, a relaxed smile on her face. Aoi begrudgingly pulled up her own chair, basking in the warmth of the moment despite the strange seating accommodations that certainly weren’t befitting of a proper dinner.
“So annoying.”
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mlm-writer · 3 years ago
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The Rest of Our Lives (Leonard McCoy x GN!Reader)
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Pairing: Dr. Leonard Horatio McCoy x Gender Neutral Reader Rating: Teen and Up Words: 1551 Summary: The Enterprise is on a terminal course with a black hole. There is not much time left, so now is as good time as any to confess the feelings you have kept to yourself until now. Note: This is for fluffgust, but this piece is defo angstgust... Reader is part of the Enterprise and it is lightly implied they are a red shirt, but they could be anything. The prompt was ‘rejecting sexual advances and it ends fluffy’ and it is there if you squint.  Tags: ANGST, dash of fluff because I had to, bad speech by Kirk because I could not write a better one, kissing, cuddling, making out, rejected sexual advances, implied major character death and no beta we die like everyone in this fic.
The vastness of space stretched before you as you peered into the sea of stars from one of the smaller observation decks. Normally the sight could always put a smile on your face, but not today. You swallowed the lump in your throat as you tried to find the beauty of outer space, only to find darkness and death in an ocean of coldness. 
“Always knew I would die on this ship,” a familiar voice came from the door. You hummed in agreement. “Just always thought it would be being sucked through an airlock, an explosion or being shot at by aliens the captain pissed off.” You shifted and twisted your head to catch sight of the CMO. 
“I take it Scotty has not found a way to start up the engines…” You stared back through the glass, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Appears it is death by black hole for all of us then.” Dr. McCoy hummed in reply, confirming your fears. This was torture, waiting for death, helpless. “Doc, what do you think we should do with the time we have left?”
You turned away from the window, facing the Southern man full-on. He stared at you with an unreadable expression. Dr. McCoy licked his dry lips before speaking. “Try to die without regrets,” he answered. You took a deep breath as you crossed your arms. 
“Was afraid you’d say that.” “Why? Have a lot of things you left for later?”
You chuckled and shook your head. “No, just one…” You dropped your arms, only to fidget with your own fingers, eyes trained on where you were pinching the skin. “You know me, unafraid and lunging head-first into everything, following whims…” You turned your head to stare at the stars again, afraid of meeting the eyes of the man in front of you. “But feelings scare me, to be honest. If I break every bone in my body, I know I can count on you to put me back in working order, but if my heart gets broken…”
A hand took a gentle hold of your harm, just above the elbow. “I’d gladly meld that too.” You looked up at him, eyes finally meeting. His eyes held a beauty that made the universe pale in comparison. “I did not come here to look at the stars,” he added, half a confession hidden in those words. 
“Doc… Leonard… I need you to be straight with me.” You did not like how vulnerable those words sounded, how vulnerable they made you. He pulled you close, closer. You found yourself in his arms, head resting against his solid body. 
“I like you. I don’t wanna die knowing I never said it,” he murmured. His voice rumbled through your body. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him tightly. You assured him the feeling was mutual, before your hands started roaming along his back, shoulders and arms, memorising the feel of his body. 
“Leonard Horatio McCoy, would you like to spend the rest of your life with me?” He let out a scoff and agreed, both of you aware that the rest of your life was unlikely to be longer than 2 hours. You spent a good few minutes just holding one another. A little later you found yourselves sitting against the glass and snuggling. You raised your head from his shoulder and put a hand on his cheek. “May I?” 
His eyes met yours as he nodded. “All yours,” he muttered, before you both leaned in. His lips were a little chapped, but felt warm against yours. When you parted, there were a few seconds of just blinking at each other, before you both leaned in for more. 
Lips danced together in slow, sweet kisses. It took a while, before you felt his tongue make an appearance. You were all too eager to take this further. It felt like heaven and the ship disappeared around you. There was no hopeless Enterprise. There was no black hole sucking you to the next life. There was just you and him on this carpeted floor under dim lights. 
You swung a leg over him and straddled his lap. You held his face close with one hand on each cheek as you made out. There was no helping it. There was just too much you had held back and too little time. You got a little teeth involved as you grinded down on him, indicating you were ready to go all the way. Your lips did not leave his until you felt both of his hands on your underarms, pulling your hands away from his face. “Hmm?” you questioned as you finally opened your eyes, immediately noticing his rosy lips. 
“Hey, I know we don’t have much time, but… I don’t think we should go so fast.” You blinked at him, trying to clear your head from the fog of desire for the man before you. “Please say something.”
You cleared your throat and tried to get off his lap, but he held you in place, tilting his head at you. “I’m sorry”, you whispered as you averted your eyes to the crease between his brows. You wanted to explain yourself, but the right words were not coming to you. Leonard seemed to understand anyway. He pulled your head towards his until your foreheads were touching. 
“Let’s not ruin this with doing things we are not ready for yet. Even if there is no later for us, I can die a happy man just having this… Can you?” You casted your eyes up, staring into his. It was mesmerising, almost dizzying to see someone look at you like he was looking at you. You nodded with an affirming hum. He smiled in relief. You sat there for a while, on your knees with his legs between yours and your foreheads touching. 
“Enterprise crew this is the captain speaking,” Captain Kirk’s voice spoke gently over the intercom, “as you know, we are on a terminal course with a black hole. In about fifteen minutes the Enterprise will be submitted to gravitational forces that will make survival for us impossible aboard the ship.” You sighed and tried to pull away, so you could focus on whatever the captain had to say more, but Leonard kept you in place.
“I won’t take up all of that time. I just wanted to thank all of you for joining this voyage. This ship has always had the finest crew, with the most admirable people in the galaxy. It has been an honour and if by any chance black holes lead to another universe, I hope I get to serve with all of you again.” You leaned against Leonard, closing your eyes so you could focus on Kirk’s voice and the feel of being held. 
“Even out here, far away from any civilised place, we are not alone. Look around. You’ll find people who will stay by your side until the end. You’ll find colleagues, friends, perhaps lovers.” You opened your eyes to find Leonard look at you like you put even the most breathtaking views of this galaxy to shame. “I look around and I find family; family I’ll happily die with. We did good out here. Each and every one of you has earned a place in the history records. This may be the end, but none of you will ever be forgotten. We’ll live forth in the work we’ve done and the stories they’ll tell about us.” You could hear the blond man’s voice crack. “May history be kind on us all. Kirk out.”
Silence fell over you. It hung thick in the air. There was not a word said, until Leonard guided you off him. “Captain will want me on the bridge. Coming with?” You moved off him and helped him off the floor. 
“Of course. We were going to spend the rest of our lives together, remember?” He let out a bitter chuckle. You held hands as you walked to the elevator. You passed by many people you have worked with during your long service on the Enterprise. There was crying, desperate hugging. Some were so calm it must have been a defence mechanism. 
There was no comment on your closeness when you entered the bridge with Leonard’s arm around you. Captain Kirk held out an arm and Leonard joined him by his left side, putting his other arm around one of his best friends. You soon found Chekhov by your side and you offered him a smile as you linked arms with him. 
The space in front of you was void of stars. There was nothing but the endless void and a small timer in the corner of the front screen. No one really said anything. You felt a kiss against your head from Leonard. You felt like you should be singing or something, a final song to unite each other before death, but this was not a heartfelt movie. This was real life. This was the end. 
You took a deep breath as the timer neared its end. Grips tightened. You took one last look at Leonard, a dark expression on his face. You closed your eyes and leaned your head against him. He was the last thing your eyes ever got to witness. 
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