#like just flip the words around a bit. 'i keep thinking im different but im not.' CAITLYN. im so serious on believing that im right here

[coolauntlilith]

Caitlyn makes me lowkey so mad bc she's lived in objective privilege her entire life, even when she tried to be a grittier cop in s1, she literally has a true safe haven to go back to with her two parents to care for her and listen to her. In s2, yeah her mom has been murdered, but holy shit can you imagine how much food and other resources the underside could have gotten for the cost of that funeral and that casket? Caitlyn has her way because of her name, gets platformed to the highest degree for her name even if she's being manipulated. She still has every resources at her fingertips despite Jinx's terrorism.

And yet when Vi, who is literally trying to kill her own sister, just didn't want Caitlyn to potentially shoot a very young child, Caitlyn acts like she has suffered more than Vi's whole existence. "I keep telling myself you're different but you're not." GIRL, YOUVE LOST IT. YOU HAVE NOW BECOME THE KIND OF ENFORCER VI FEARED AND HATED AS A CHILD. The mirror pointed back at Caitlyn with that sentence thrown at Vi is harrowing, holy shit.

[thegnomelord]

Shark

- 🦈

(Brainrot time! Blame dougielovelove for their new work. Had a bit of a bad day and i usually dont write spicy things

This one can be set in monster au. Readers a captain of a whole different task force meant for oceanic endevours. Im talkin the readers a shark hybird (biased) their lieutenant a whale hybird, sergent an orca or a pufferfish, their newest recurits a fuckin salmon, the works.

They're close knit, heck even poly if you want. Price and the Reader meet through connections with Laswell. They find out they hav the same target, price is stubborn and wont drop the mission, despite how most of his team is not suited for water.

Reader respects it and they work really well together. A bit too well, even to the point theyre considering merging the teams.

Completely honest, Price is starting to fall for their fellow captain. I mean how can you not, they've swooped in and saved them countless times, preventing the oceans waters from completely swallowing them in the dark abyss.

Not to mention his sergents and lieutenant are just the cutest, so eager to do well and work together with his own. Just protective instincts, hit him to the point hes pickin everyone up and scentin them. They're his hoard now.

Reader and Price are settleing paper work in his office. Readers busy writing down important information and signing off reports, but price cant help but stare. How swift his hands move as each words is made and written, how tight his claws grip the pen with every small minisucle flick of the pen.

He hiccups a small flame when their fellow captain decided to extravagantly spin his pen when he trys to recall the missing info. How smooth it moves between his blackened fingers, swirling and turning flipping all between nimble and flexible rough- and hes hard.

Reader realizes Price is distracted, before he can call out their name, he glances down just to see whats got him so wrapped up in his mind.

Now all i can think about is Reader forcing Price to focus and finish his paperwork while hes got both his assets shoved up his ass. Price is just a mess, making his paperwork a completely unusable. Yet, the reader still wants him to finish, becuase if he dosent Price definitely wont.

Or they decide to have some fun, release the pent up desire the poor dragons been keeping buried. A soilder be it 141 or be from the readers own team, walks in. Can't help but love how the stoic draconic captain looks so small and pathetic under his co-leader. Joining in on the fun just to see how wrecked this great leader can get.)

Okay, this is cool and my horny is up but I made a few changes as I like characters to be more mythological and just animal hybrids, though those are cool too

CW:NSFW, quick and rough, subbot Price, Gaz, Oc sergeant, domtop reader

Price loves you. But you are one cruel bastard.

Those big rough hands of yours trace his taught belly, webbed fingers making a shiver crawl up his spine and stealing what little thoughts are left in his head as one of your hands trails down the smooth scales of his tail. "Come on dear captain, just a few more pages to go." You purr, chest rumbling against his back like the thrum of an engine, your lips tickling his pointy earlobe.

Price swears he's going to die; pants around his ankles and legs spread, stretched so wide on both of your shafts he can feel your heartbeat by the way your cocks twitch against his walls, each labored breath making his hole clench down desperately, his own hard cocks left hard and unattended.

It would be one thing if you claimed him like he wants you to, pushed him flat on the desk and fucked into him like he's nothing but a bitch to pump full of your cum.

But you don't. You just sitting inside him, hard and throbbing and still despite how much he tries to tempt you by clenching down. Price finds himself cursing the amount of patience you have.

"Sweetheart," He groans, voice too light and whiny for his own ears, head thrown back to give you a heatless glare. "C'mon, don't tease me." Price tries to grind his hips down but you hold him firm.

"Not until you finish those reports." You grunt, authoritative, and Price is stuck between wanting to bite you in revenge and trying to stifle a pathetic whine. "Go on, you only have a few pages left."

Those damn reports. Price can barely read his own handwriting, a light tremor in his fingers from the way your cocks press against his prostate. "Cruel bastard." He growls, sucking in a breath and clenching around you.

His chest flares with pride the second your claws dig into his body, not even your mind able to hold back the animalistic need to buck into the tight willing heat surrounding you. But it's a double edged sword — a hiccup of flame sparks from his mouth, your cockheads bumping his prostate and making a bead of precum spurt from his cocks.

"As if you're any better." You growl in his ear, your hair tickling his skin as you roughly nip at his though hide, pleasure and pain loosing their borders in his mind.

He doesn't notice the nicking on the door, but Price is ready for hell to swallow up when he finally registers the door open, his blue eyes rising to meet Sullivan — your hippocampus sergeant — who looks just as mortified to walk in on you like that as Price.

Sullivan's dark horse ears flicker back, the iridescent scales along his cheeks turning from ocean green to a vibrant embarrassed pink, "I- is this, this a- I can leave if, if, if- this looks like a-" The poor man stumbles over his words, eyes bouncing between Price's debauched form and your amused face.

It gets worse when Gaz pokes his head in behind Sullivan, "Hey captains are you-" His jaw falls, pupils dilating like he's a crow that just saw a shinny penny. "-oh."

You just chuckle, rough voice putting Sullivan at ease. "At ease boys," You snort, don't even attempt to hide anything, one hand sliding down to stroke his cock, so slick with his precum that his shaft slides through your hand just from you squeezing it. "Need something boys?"

Even from here Price can see the way Sullivan's eyes darken as well at the deep moan that tumbles out of Price's throat and Price has to bite his lip to keep the noises in check.

"I-" Sullivan sucks in a breath, scales slowly turning to the shade of an overcooked lobster. "I. . . I forgot."

"Can we join?" Gaz asks, chuckling at Sullivan's wide-eyed look. "What? As you weren't thinking it." He shrugs and places a kiss on his cheek when Sully nods meekly.

"I don't know." You hum, letting go of Price's cock to tilt his head to you, meeting his eyes. "Do you want your boys to help you keep focused?"

Price swallows, knows that all that awaits him should he accept would be pleasurable torture, but his bones burn with the need to have his hoard close to him, taking care of him for a change. "Yeah," He growls, less whiny and more demanding.

You hum and roll the chair back to create space for the two men beneath the table, "On your knees." You don't miss the way the authority in your voice makes both men shiver.

"You heard him," Gaz grins and pulls Sullivan towards you two by the hand, reminding you more of a puppy than any harpy as he happily gets on his knees.

Your gaze skirts to Sullivan as he tentatively settles on Gaz's right, pitch black eyes hidden behind that fringe you keep telling him to cut. "You alright with this Sully?" You ask, knowing the man's sexual experience is limited to one girlfriend and your team, and even then he's shy about many acts. "You don't need to do something you're unsure about. No one is going to be mad."

"I, yes. I want this." He swallows, looking back at you. "I, uh. . . I got some pointers." He says shily.

Gaz just snickers and throws his arm over Sullivan's shoulder. "I helped," He says proudly, wing spreading out to wrap around Sully's back.

"Rubbing off on my sergeant already huh?" You snort, your attention turning to Price when he growls, capturing his lips in a kiss to placate his demanding draconic side while your hand lets go of his cocks — an open offering to the two sergeants.

"Only in a good way." Gaz grins and leans in, opening his mouth and pink little tongue lolling out to lick at one leaking cock like he knows Price likes, lips wrapping around the tapered head and sucking on it, amusement bubbling in his chest when you hold Price's hips firm so he can't buck up.

Sullivan follows suit, less confident but still willing, holding the other cock in his smooth scalled hand and tentatively giving the crown a kiss, dark eyes watching both of your reactions as he slowly trails kisses around the cumhole, growing bolder with every small whimper until he's gently suckling on the tip like Gaz had done.

"You're doing good Sully," You praise, even your voice is hoarse from the way Price squeezes down on you now that the two sergeants are servicing his cocks. "You too Gaz." You reach down to gently pet his hair so Kyle doesn't feel left out, "Both of you, so good for me and Price."

Price, for his sake, may as well be a mindless animal from the way his brain is steadily melting out of his cocks like a lit candle, moaning low in his throat, his eyes closed to just feel the pleasure that's assaulting him on both ends. He can tell the difference between Gaz's and Sullivan's mouths, the duality of firm swipes of the tongue across his shaft and the kitten licks on his most sensitive parts making his head swim, hips trying uselessly to fuck into the hot mouths and your own cocks.

He whines when you grip his hips firmly. "No," You snort, both arms keeping his hips still so he can do nothing but endure. "You're not getting off until the job's finished."

Price shivers, "Bastard." He growls weakly, his eyesight blurry as he tries to focus on the document.

"Pot, kettle." You grin against his skin, helping guide his arm towards the documents where he left off. "C'mon, it's just a few pages, then your sergeants will be able to reward you fully."

[leejenowrld]

hello there!!! im not sure if you do this kind of ask, but you seem to have a good understanding of what jeno is like as a person (as much as a fan would be able to know!) so i was curious to know what you think jeno falling in love and dating would look like in reality!!! where/how he'd meet her, the things he'll (sub)consciously do when he likes her/realises he likes her, how he'd confess, what he'd be like as a boyfriend and what their rs will look like in the honeymoon phase and even after.

hey! thank you so much. i just want to preface by saying that even though i love jeno and he’s probably the only idol i truly care about, i don’t know him or what he’s really like, and i never will. everything i write is just based on ideas, fantasies, and my own portrayals of him. it’s all in good fun and shouldn’t be taken seriously! <3 (i know you touched on this in your ask, but i just wanted to say it myself as well). that being said, i’m excited to dive into this! i base jeno off my own boyfriend and our relationship in a lot of ways (that’s why i find writing jeno easy, the jeno you see in my fics is a exact copy of how my man is and how he is to me) so it’ll be personal and, as always, focused on how i want to portray him. this is going to be long, detailed, and maybe a bit scattered—that’s just how i am when talking about jeno :)

the way i picture jeno, he needs to have a solid foundation and friendship with the person before he fully commits and falls in love, sure, he has tendencies to fuck around and have mindless sex but when he meets you? it’s like everything clicks into place. you’re different, and he knows it right away. he’s not used to feeling like this, so he treads carefully. no rushing, no overwhelming you with his feelings. instead, he takes his time, building that connection slowly, making sure there’s something real between you. it’s never about the chase for him—it’s about finding something worth staying for. you're gonna see the perfect balance between someone who's possessive but also fucking sweet and gentle at the same time. he applies the right amount of pressure (hehe like how he does during sex) and flirting to the point where it can never feel like he's doing too much. his timing is just always immaculate.

the moment he realizes he wants you, it’s like flipping a switch. he feels the intense emotional and sexual chemistry from the start, something warm and magnetic, but you don’t yet. you’re still timid, unsure of what this pull is, and he loves that. every word, every glance, every touch from him is intentional, smooth in a way that’s almost effortless. it’s the way his fingers casually brush against yours, the way his voice dips low when he teases you, and how his eyes linger on you just a little too long, sending a jolt through you each time. he never overdoes it, keeping you right on the edge with the perfect balance of possessiveness and sweetness. the smiles and the eye contact from across the room, the soft touches on your lower back, his breath warm against your ear when he whispers—it all builds this palpable tension, electric yet controlled. he flirts just enough to make you blush, to make your pulse race, but never so much that you feel overwhelmed. he’s patient, knowing exactly when to push, applying just the right amount of pressure, making it impossible for you not to think about him. before you even realize it, you’re hooked, falling for him harder with each teasing glance, each deliberate move, wondering how he manages to unravel you so effortlessly while keeping you wanting more.

the thing about jeno is that he’s intense mixed with possessiveness (the hot kind). in your eyes you’re his, his girl, the one he’s fully committed too. this is before you even realise this. it’s not difficult for jeno to want to commit, that’s the thing, even if he’s used to the lifestyle of moving from bed to bed and not being tied down by a single woman, it doesn’t mean that he’s a jerk or a bad person, therefore doesn’t mean that it’s difficult for him to use his entire energy and commitment to that one person who he believes he really has a future with. when he realises “yeah, i want you, i see myself marrying you” phew the way his priorities shift into one direction and the way the lover boy comes out of him

but at the end of the day he stays respectful and he’ll always put your priorities first. if you say you want him to stop? he will, no questions asked. he’ll be upset about it but he puts your wishes before what he wants. he’s incredibly patient, especially if you’re shy or hesitant at first. he’s not in a rush to push you into anything, but he’s not holding back either. you notice how his intensity builds over time. it’s gradual, but it’s unmistakable. you might try to keep your guard up, unsure of how to handle someone like jeno being so into you. but he’s got that way about him—gentle and understanding, but persistent. he’s so genuine that you can’t help but let your defenses fall, bit by bit. and when you do? that’s when everything shifts.

once you fall, you fall hard, just like he did. suddenly, it’s not just him making the moves—you’re meeting his intensity with your own. there’s this undeniable chemistry between you, and it’s like fireworks going off. you spend hours together, talking about everything and nothing, getting closer with every passing day. the emotional connection grows deeper, and before you know it, you’re as down bad as he is.

the shift into something physical is just as natural. one minute, you’re out with jeno on one of those ‘not-a-date’ dates, sharing casual glances and smiles, and the next, the tension between you has reached its breaking point. he’s got you pressed against the wall, his lips on yours, hands gripping your waist with just enough force to remind you who’s in control. it’s like all the flirting, the teasing, the playful touches were leading up to this. and when you finally give in to the pull between you, it’s intense.

jeno’s the type who knows exactly how to take charge in bed. there’s no hesitation in the way he touches you, no second-guessing. when he’s got you where he wants you, he’s hard, dominant, and rough in all the best ways. he knows how to push you to your limits, how to make you feel completely at his mercy, but there’s always that underlying sweetness, that care in the way he makes sure you’re enjoying every second. his hands are everywhere—gripping your thighs, pulling you closer, fingers digging into your skin just enough to leave a reminder of what he’s doing to you.

he’s vocal too, not afraid to let you know exactly what you’re doing to him, how good you feel, how much he’s wanted this. you feel it in every thrust, every grip, the way his breath hitches when you moan his name. he’s rough, but it’s controlled. he knows when to hold back, when to go harder, when to whisper dirty things in your ear just to hear you gasp. it’s like he knows your body better than you do, every touch, every move, calculated to drive you wild.

and the sex? it’s not just a physical thing. jeno makes it feel like more. there’s this connection, this intensity that goes beyond just bodies colliding. it’s the way he looks at you, his eyes dark and focused, like you’re the only thing in the world that matters to him in that moment. even when he’s rough, there’s this underlying affection that makes you feel completely safe, like he’s never going to let anything bad happen to you. his dominance isn’t about control—it’s about trust.

afterward, the dynamic between you shifts even more. you’re not just spending time together; you’re practically inseparable. the emotional intimacy is just as intense as the physical. you talk for hours, confide in each other about things you’ve never shared with anyone else. and then, when the time comes to get physical again, it’s like you can’t keep your hands off each other. the dates blend into nights spent tangled up in each other, the connection between you getting stronger with every passing day.

jeno, as a boyfriend, is the perfect mix of sweet and possessive. he’s always got his arm around you, always making sure you know you’re his. but he’s not overbearing. there’s no jealousy or insecurity, just a quiet, steady confidence that comes from knowing you’re as into him as he is into you. he doesn’t have to say it, but you can tell by the way he looks at you, the way he touches you in public, how much he cares.

he’s constantly whispering “mine mine mine mine mine” against your skin during sex. because you are his, and he’s yours. you’re his person and he’s your person, it’s a tie that’s deeper than the runes of the earth. tbh people assume that he’s the possessive one in the relationship but surprisingly… it’s you :) that’s where i’m gonna leave you with that one. jeno will definitely do anything you ask him to do. there’s no limit in his mind when it comes to you.

and it’s not just about the sex or the intense chemistry. jeno is there for you in every way that matters. he listens, he supports, he’s the first person you want to talk to when something happens, good or bad. he’s protective, but not in a way that makes you feel suffocated. he respects your independence, but you know he’ll be there the second you need him.

as time goes on, the relationship doesn’t lose its intensity. if anything, it deepens. you both settle into this rhythm, where the emotional and physical intimacy are perfectly balanced. even after the honeymoon phase, things between you stay exciting, because jeno is always finding new ways to keep you on your toes. one day he’s surprising you with a thoughtful gift, the next he’s pulling you into a heated kiss in the middle of a crowded room, making you forget everything except him.

in essence, jeno’s love is consuming, but in the best way. he’s the kind of person who, once he decides you’re the one, will give you all of him—his attention, his loyalty, his affection. he’s possessive, but in a way that makes you feel cherished. and once the two of you fall for each other, there’s no going back. it’s all in, both emotionally and physically, and the intensity between you never fades.

[noemilivv]

Hellooo may I please request some fluff for a Husk x Angel! Reader who sneaks out of Heaven to see him keep track of the hotel? I wish to see the grumpy old man having a soft spot for her even if they are so different. Perhaps him teaching her how to prepare drinks or how to win a card game on his spare time leads him to confess his feelings for her. As a little extra, he finds it endearing just how innocent she can be in Hell's standards <3

as a husk lover, this is so cute <33 im loving this idea and i rlly hope i gave it the justice it deserves !!

Warnings: Seraphim!Reader, Swear Words, S1 spoilers, GN!Reader, Not proofread (I don’t have to energy to read through all of it it’s so long hsjsjsjs)

“King of Hearts”

Heaven was a place of glory and peace to the public eye, but Heaven… wasn’t all it was built up to be.

It had rules, as expected, but a lot of them… And some of the rulers weren’t exactly as open minded as you may think.

An example of this is when Princess Morningstar, the daughter of the fallen seraphim, Lucifer, came up from Hell to explain why sinners deserve a second shot, and how they can be redeemed by a redemption hotel of hers.

The meeting did not go as planned, Charlotte’s partner turned out to be a fallen angel, thanks to Adam, first douchebag man on Earth and in Heaven.

It had been a day since the meeting, and Adam, as well his lieutenant, Lute, wanted to meet with you, and you couldn’t imagine why.

We had a meeting yesterday? What could’ve been so important?

You open the door to Adam’s office, a bit hesitant. Adam sits at the desk casually, legs plopped over the top, shoving his face full of chips, leaving crumbs everywhere, as Lute stood beside.

“Sup, bitch.” You heard, barely audible, due to the fucking crinkling of the chip bag. ‘Wow, great start.’ You thought.

“Hi.” You said, a bit quieter than intended, as you sat down. “Look, we need to ask you a favor.” Adam said as he munched on his chips, you tried to maintain all the patience that kept you from chucking that bag of chips at his crotch.

“I’m listening.” You said, crossing your hands politely.

Lute piped up into the conversation, combing a hand through her silvery locks, “Lucifer’s cunt and her idiotic hotel are diminishing everything Heaven is built to represent. We need you to go down to that damned shit hole every week and give us reports.”

“And before you ask!” Adam started. “If you don’t, we’ll tell Sera how much of a dirty whore you’ve been, and all the filthy sins you’ve committed.” Adam said, a shit-eating grin spread wide across his mask- face? No, mask.

Your eyes widen, how the fuck did he know? “Fine.” You said with a sigh, an annoyed smile on your face, maybe you’d get to fulfill Emily’s wish of helping Charlie after all.

You stood in front of the door of the Hotel, taking a breath before knocking on the door.

Moments later what you recognize to be Lucifer’s daughter, Charlie, if your memory is serving you right. “Oh, hello again, would you like to come in?” She asks with a grin.

“Yeah.. I would.” You say, as Charlie steps aside to let you in.

You chuckle bashfully before looking to Charlie, “I know Heaven and Hell have never seen eye-to-eye, and I never really gave the yearly exterminations much though, but when I heard you at the meeting the other day, my perspective totally flipped.” You started, Charlie couldn’t have looked happier, and you saw out of the corner of your eye Vaggie eyeing you suspiciously.

“I was told to come down here to sabotage you guys, but after seeing everything you’ve built, even before that, I know I couldn’t do that to you guys. You don’t have to trust me, but I wanna help you, and I wanna give this hotel thing a shot.” You said to Charlie, well, to everyone who was in the lobby, which seemed like all the staff and residents that you knew of.

Vaggie sighed, approaching Charlie’s side, putting a protective arm around her waist, “I… I’m not so sure..” She said, eyeing you, not with hatred, necessarily, more so, caution.

“How about this,” Alastor pipes up, approaching the conversation, after being a bystander, “If you go against your word, and go against us, all of Heaven will know exactly what you told us, deal?” Alastor, or who you knew as the radio demon suggests, putting his hand to yours, offering a shake.

You shake it firmly. “Deal.”

The hotel fills with green flames and sparks, Alastor looks at you with a wide grin, “Well anywho, enjoy your stay, my dear, I’m off to visit one of my dear friends!” He says, walking off.

“C’mon, Vaggie! We gotta show them around!”

Charlie and Vaggie had shown you everything, and honestly, the progress they were making wasn’t half-bad, did it need improvement here and there? Yes. But it was pretty good considering.

The two girls had shown you off to your room, but honestly, you didn’t wanna go, it felt like your night wasn’t over. And you hadn’t really gotten to know many people, so you went to place you thought would be most lively, the bar.

Yeah… Not so lively. You go down and sit, the grumpy cat man, which you knew to be Husk looked at you. “What would you want to drink?” He asked, eyeing you.

“Oh, just a water.” You say with a smile. “Fuckin’ course.” He mumbles, pouring you a water and handing it off to ya.

You tap your nails against the glass for a moment, it was silent, awkward silence, maybe not for him, but definitely for you.

“So ya really think this whole redemption shit is possible? If you don’t, I don’t blame ya. Not like I’mma fuckin’ tell anyone.” He asked, sparking a conversation first, which had shocked you a bit.

“Oh, well yeah, of course I do. No one is truly evil, even in Hell, and with the right help, I believe all of these sinners could be up in Heaven.” You said, the same polite yet bashful smile plastered on your face, Husk took notice of it, giving a small smile, not that you noticed.

“Well… You’re right, sinners aren’t evil, but they are broken. Just because you’re broken, doesn’t mean your evil. You can be broken and still end up in Heaven, it’s just the people who are broken but don’t try to change.” Husk elaborated. Huh.

“Oh.” You said, eyes slightly widened, and a small ‘o’ shape of your lips, “I… never thought about it that way.” You mumbled.

“Sure, maybe not every sinner is gonna go up, but I’m positive most will!” You recovered quickly.

Husk let out a joking scoff as he smirked and rolled his eyes, so innocent, Husk chuckled at your naive antics.

Moving on from that, Angel eventually came down to the bar, with full plans to get wasted - so Husk made you help him out here and there.

He taught you how to make a few simple drinks, nothing too hardcore, and honestly it was quite fun for you, new, but fun.

Then when Angel drank one too many drinks, he sluggishly dragged himself up to his room, you assumed it had to do with his work, but you weren’t sure.

You weren’t ready to leave quite yet, so with no drinks to serve to you, Husk began to teach you how to win a game of cards, over the course of the hour or two you played, which was almost until sunrise, you made some fair progress.

Times like these went on till the extermination and after, Adam had found out what you had done, and you had fallen down to Hell for good, and honestly, you didn’t mind one bit.

You came down to the bar, Angel winking at you before sliding away, knowing your intentions for the night, you sat down and smiled at Husk.

“My usual, please” You said, “Shoulda known.” Husk said, chuckling softly, shaking his head, before handing your water to you.

“What’s the next topic your gonna talk my ear off about? Or are we playing cards again?” Husk asked, softly smirking at you, his gaze softer than usual.

“Oh no, I actually came down with erm… a report… of sorts?” You said, trying to not elaborate so much, not wanting him to catch on quite yet, although you have a feeling he might’ve, “And that is?” He asked, his head turned, putting away the glass he was cleaning, his full, undivided attention was now on you.

“Well- I.. Uh. I have something I need to ask you- Well more so, tell you, I guess?” You explained, using your hands to help elaborate what you were trying to say.

Husk was catching on, he always knew you had a little something for him, maybe not immediately, but it didn’t take long. “Well, Husk, I- Okay so, uh… Heheh.. We’ve spent a lot of time together.. And well, I just wanted to tell you- Wait ask you.. No. Tell? No, ask you- if maybe you uh..”

Husk sat there with a pleasant but patient smile on his face, he was more than willing to let you finish this on your own.

“If maybe… you wanted to go out.. with me..? Like uh, like a date? Or not a date, that’s fine too, well I-”

“Doll.” Husk said.

You shot up. He spoke. Shit shit shit shit shit shit…

“I feel the same way.” He said, his soft gaze on you, a chuckle escaping his lips.

You giggle awkwardly. “Oh and by the way.” Husk said, reaching into his pocket, “From that round of cards we played the other day,” He started.

“Was this your card?” He said with a smirk, sliding a card to you.

You look at it.

King of Hearts.

Damn, that was smooth.

[uhhhitsme]

for the song thingy! how about 63 if it hasn't been done yet? :]

OKAY this is good because the first one u sent in was 4. and the 4th song on my curtwen playlist is you belong to me. which im sure you already know the context for because of smys incredible wonderful stunning fanfiction.

this is very fitting to me because somehow, even though crane wives is like 90% of my curtwen playlist, youre the first person to rq a crane wives song!! and also i think this is the first owen focused analysis ive done for the song thing so im doubly excited!!!

anyways, this song is so painfully owen carvour coded it makes me sick. its about (as im sure you already know) someone who can never be direct or clear about who they are, who is a liar and hardly trusts anyone they're around. who is constantly wearing a mask.

what saf does really cleverly (imo) is creating two characters so unlike each other that you can't directly associate them with each other at all---even if there are hints to the truth. the owen carvour we see in a1p1 is collected, practical, and a bit cocky---he is presented as the "brains" to curts brawn (key word presented im not doing that thing where ppl say that curt was a stupid little dumb dumb who was always being taken care of by owen), the thing that pulls curt back from doing anything too out there. he's calm and rational throughout most of a1p1 until his plans are blown to bits. but the dma is the opposite. he's quick to anger and explosively violent, big and burly and nowhere near as put together as owen seems. he kills for no reason, acts on the spot without much plan, and is so drastically different from the man curt knew intimately for years that he cant recognise him.

and i do think that this completely different persona wasn't just a role, for owen. that in a way, it was an outlet. an escape from being the person who had been hurt as brutally as he was, something to help him to cope with the trauma. but i also think that this isn't his first time disappearing into a role so completely. like owen says himself, he could've been actor, but (supposedly) chose to use his talents in combination with his interest in foreign policy. i believe that as a spy, this was his greatest asset---his ability to play pretend.

so obviously, i can't help but associate these lines with him, especially considering his "roles" as a spy probably hurt a lot of people.

i keep my closet free of skeletons 'cause i'm much better at digging graves

i've gotten good at making up metaphors i've gotten good at stretching the truth out of shape and all these words are sweet and meaningless you can't trust a single thing i say

but to me, that's not all. for owen, i don't think it's just that he plays a role really well, and the moment his job is over he goes back to being himself. i think that he inhabits a mask even when he's supposed to be himself.

even after his reveal---even when owen is supposedly acting as himself, instead of playing up that role, its... very performative, as well. at first, he presents himself as uncaring, smug, completely detached from what he and curt had. he casually ribs curt about his very real grief and guilt over the past four years, pokes curts insecurities by describing him as a foolish, bumbling idiot who was never as good of a spy as owen was, "im going to have dinner with my NEW FRIENDS now" *dramatic hair flip.* this version of owen we see holds nothing but deep contempt for who curt is, and everything he represents. there is nothing complicated about it---his recklessness nearly killed him, and now that he has the chance he wants simple revenge.

but when we get to the staircase scene, both of them are worn out over (i think?) days of travel. and curt, desperate and still unravelling because of this new revelation, and he pleas with owen in a way that hits home. and we see him break from that controlled anger that he shows to the group when he first reveals himself. we hear the violent pain in his voice when he says they can't just go back to how things were, hear the trembling way he tells curt that whatever they had has died. that there's no saving them. we hear that it mattered, to him. we hear the grief.

and then curt kills him.

owen was an actor---not just in his work, but in his life. because he feels so much, cares so much, and he knew that vulnerability of his could be exploited. he knew that to trust anyone---to show the truth of himself, to give himself away the way he did with curt---was to set himself up for hurt. and after surviving all that he did, both as a spy and as a child growing up in WWII-era london, he couldn't let that happen again.

but i always dig up bones in your sympathy i can't trust a single thing you say

don't look too hard, 'cause you won't like the scars he left in me

i know that a lot of my analysis for the two of them is that "they both hid their vulnerabilities because they were gay men in the 1950s" but like. it's true. it does make up a significant part of their lives, and probably defined a lot of how they express themselves and acted at the time. and there's something to be said about the association of emotion with femininity---how owen presents himself as this logical, controlled character, traits typically associated with masculinity---whereas the sentimentality and love and emotion that he experienced because of curt is something that deviates from that reason. how owen probably tried his best to squash out his feeling, because he knows that being seen as something other than a traditional man is basically being seen as queer, because he was raised to be ashamed of it.

he put up so many walls and wore so many masks---to protect himself from that prosecution, and to protect himself from letting his emotions run the risk killing him. not that it worked lmao

tldr; this man cannot say anything directly and has more layers than a fucking onion, and i am incredibly normal about him.

[vanillelace]

LOVE, (not really)

𝟏𝟏𝟏 ; warnings: a bit of heartbreak here n there but it’s mainly fluff, slight cursing but I will avoid using profanities, and basically a lot of teasing (offensive), use of word dead / die and other ways of using the word

𝟏𝟏𝟏 ; pairing(s): nishimura riki x fem. reader

𝟏𝟏𝟏 ; genre: Japanese major Ni-ki and Japanese + Chinese major reader, university au, slice of life? fluff, slight angst, academic rivals to lovers

𝟏𝟏𝟏 ; word count: 11760

𝟏𝟏𝟏 ; synopsis: Nishimura Riki hates Y/N’s guts. Unfortunately for him, the two have almost the same classes and friend groups. He swears he hates her, and she swears she hates him. But why do they keep catching themselves staring at each other for a bit too long? It isn’t love, not really.

𝟏𝟏𝟏 ; author’s note: HIII im back and with a new fic! this one’s for @kflixnet ‘s secret Santa and this is completely dedicated to @bobariki (IM YOUR SECRET SANTA 😻🫶) please enjoy this! We don’t really have conversations but I hope to get to know you :) I’m not really an engene so please excuse me 😭 I really hope you like this 🥹🫶 I’m also not a huge fan of academic rivals 2 lovers so 😭😭 

SONG BY ME. DON'T. PLAGIARISE.

————————

“I hate Nishimura Riki.”

“I hate Y/N L/N.”

The two dialogues were spoken at the same time in different places, by none other than Y/N L/N and Nishimura Riki themselves, respectively. 

For context, it was results day, but the two hadn’t seen their results yet. To manifest one being better than the other, they uttered that negative affirmation over and over to make sure they would top the class (and the other). 

Y/N took a deep breath and walked over to campus, which was near her home, to find the results sheet, which had been pinned about four minutes ago. Please, please let the topper be me. Y/N silently prayed to whoever would listen, making sure to add the ‘please’ twice.

 Around this time, Nishimura Riki also walked over there with a deep breath, his hands in his pockets, silently praying. 

The two caught each other’s eyes and rolled their eyes. “Ugh, it’s you.” Y/N sighed, and Riki shrugged. “Scared?”

“Not. At. All.”

The two stared at the results sheet, scanning briefly. 

“HOW ARE WE IN THE SAME POSITION?” Riki yelled angrily, rubbing his eyes to make sure he hadn’t read the results sheet wrong. “How in the world am I supposed to know, you dimwit?”

“Screw you.”

“No thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll find the teacher to ask why this happened.” Y/N flipped her hair and walked away, and Riki groaned. “Wait for me!”

Riki caught up to Y/N. Still confused, he followed her into the teacher’s office, where Y/N requested for the teacher. 

“Hello, Ms. L/N, and Mr. Nishimura. I think you've seen the results?” Without giving either of the two angry students enough time to interrupt, the teacher continued. “The two of you have gotten the same grade. Believe me, all the teachers tried to remove points wherever we could find them, but we gave up. This is generally impossible. But we then thought alphabetical ranking would be.. sad, and unfair, so we gave the two of you a tie.”

“But—“ the two began, but the teacher raised a single finger to silence them. “No. I don’t want a single argument against this. I want to know if the two of you have thought about your university selections? I know for a fact that the two of you have gotten entry to incredibly prestigious universities.”

“Yeah, I have,” Riki began. “I might just join Zephyr University.” Y/N interrupted him, and Riki scowled at her. “No. You can’t. I’m joining Zephyr, and so are the rest of my friends.”

“Oh really? Even the Dreamies are joining Zephyr, so there’s no way I’m backing out.”

“Guess we’ll have to come to a logical agreement then.” Riki said, and grabbed two pencils, quickly sharpening one of them slightly. “I’m sorry, but will you please ask us to choose pencils?”

The teacher sighed, frustrated. “Why are you two like this? Just attend the same university. You can’t seriously be thinking of denying the other a great opportunity. How selfish can the two of you be? I hope you sort things out at Zephyr, because you failed to do so here. And I will definitely stay in touch with the director there, so I will hear about every single thing. And if anything happens, your parents will hear about it.”

The two students gulped, and nodded. “Yes, sir.”

The teacher saw them off, and as soon as Y/N and Riki were out of his sight, they glared at each other. “How dare you, you.. you.. CREATURE?” Y/N shrieked, and Riki flinched. “Your voice doesn’t sound good if it’s high-pitched, Y/N,” Riki rolled his eyes, and Y/N gave him a dirty look. 

“Look, Y/N, let’s listen to the teacher, but let’s stay out of each other's ways. Is that a good deal?”

Y/N considered it for a minute, but relented in the end when she realized that it was, in fact, a great deal. “Ugh, fine. But if I ever see your face again..”

Y/N dragged a finger across her own neck horizontally, and Riki fake-shivered. “Ooh, I’m scared! Mommy, come save me!” Riki yelped sarcastically, and Y/N glared at him. Again.

“I feel like that’s your signature look, Y/N.”

Y/N glowered at him yet again.

“So.. is this how you communicate now..?”

Another glare.

“Okay then. Buh-bye.”

——————       /ᐠ - ˕ -マ

“And then, Renjun, listen! No, wait, listen! Don’t walk away! HUANG RENJUN! RIKI LITERALLY LEFT ME IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE! HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THE WAY HOME?”

“..Y/N, you have Google Maps for a reason… you know?”

“..Oh.”

Y/N cringed, as she realized that wasn’t one of her smartest moments. “Anyway, Y/N, you talk about Riki so much. It’s like you’re in love with him.”

Y/N spit out her snack. “Pfft! Me? Love Riki? Yeah, it’s the same as you being in love with me. Never gonna happen. Ever.”

Renjun nodded. “Yeah, totally, definitely.” He scratched the back of his neck and sat down next to Y/N. “The rest of the Dreamies are coming over in another five minutes, apparently Mark’s old car broke down.”

“I don’t get how he got a learner’s permit in the first place. It’s Mark, for crying out loud.”

“Right? I was surprised when I heard that too.” Renjun replied, getting up to search for snacks in his kitchen. 

“When is everyone taking the test?” Y/N asked Renjun, who was in his kitchen, loudly, so he could hear her. “Before university starts, I think.”

“Ah. I’ll take it during university.” Y/N said thoughtfully. “Good for you. Meanwhile, I found ingredients for food.”

“Food!” Y/N jumped into the kitchen and saw Renjun cooking some hot pot. Y/N loved stew made by her parents, and this hot pot was the closest thing Renjun could cook, so he made it whenever Y/N came over. If he had the ingredients, he also made suet dumplings, which were also Y/N’s favorite.

As Y/N helped Renjun cook, the rest of their friend group traipsed into the house, walking straight to the kitchen when they smelt the delicious food.

“I smell hot pot!” Zhong Chenle announced his entry, leaning against the entry to the kitchen.

“Yeah, you do, cause we’re cooking it.” Y/N informed him. “Who’s we? The only cooking you’ve done is tasting the broth. I’m the one cooking.” Renjun told her, and Y/N stuck out her tongue at him. 

“Hey guys!” Lee Minhyung, better known as Mark, dropped on the couch, and the rest of the guys divided themselves between the kitchen and living room. “How do you feel about your results?” Park Jisung asked the house, and everyone collectively sighed. “As usual, we all did great, but did you see Y/N’s results?” Lee Jeno asked, and Jisung shook his head.

“Well, Y/N? Care to elaborate?” Na Jaemin, who was in the kitchen, raised his eyebrows at Y/N. “No, not really.”

“She’s just pissed off that she tied with Riki for first place,” Lee Haechan laughed from the living room, causing Y/N to march into the living room and punch Haechan. “Ow! That hurts, Y/N!”

“No shit, Sherlock. It was meant to hurt.” Y/N said, and Mark laughed. “Hot pot is ready! Do you guys want to eat in the kitchen or the living room?”

“Living room, it’s more comfortable.” Jaemin said, helping Renjun bring the food and dishes with Chenle. “Anyway, we’re all getting into Zephyr, right?” Jisung asked, and everyone nodded.

“Which reminds me. Can’t believe I forgot to tell you guys, but Riki and his friends are also joining Zephyr.” Y/N told the group, who collectively grinned. “I’m sure everyone’s glad Enha will be with us, but you will definitely not be happy about Riki joining them.” 

“Screw you, Haechan. Why are you so annoying?” Y/N asked, and Haechan shrugged. “That’s actually such a good question. But I think it began from home, you know? Like—“ 

“Haechan, it was a rhetorical question,” Y/N cried, rushing to shut him up. One of the — very occasionally — good things about him was that he could talk about anything, even if he didn’t know the topic that well, for a good five minutes at least. So if you got Haechan talking, it would be quite difficult for you to get him to stop.

But then again, that quality had gotten the group out of a lot of pickles, so it was an advantage at times. 

The group chit-chatted and ate the hot pot peacefully, relishing the fact that summer break was about to start. “I am honestly going to get so bored..” Jisung said, and Y/N nodded in agreement.

“Are you guys planning on going anywhere?” Jeno asked everyone. “My mother is asking me to go with her to Shanghai for a vacation. I’m still not sure if I should, but I think it’s worth it.” Chenle mentioned, and Renjun smiled. “I want to visit China too, but I should go with my parents, so I’m not sure how I feel about going alone. My parents are going on a vacation by themselves, as I’m sure I’d have mentioned a million times.”

“You can join me and my mother!” Chenle offered, and Renjun shook his hands and refused. “No, you two should enjoy it. Seriously, go ahead. I’d much rather stay here anyway. With the rest of these fools.”

The rest of the friends watched as the two spoke, eating quietly. “I’m staying here, because my parents are busy at work,” Jaemin said afterwards, and Jeno nodded. “Yeah, same here.”

“I’m staying, I don’t want to go anywhere, quite frankly.” Y/N said, and Haechan and Jisung agreed. “Yeah, I’m just going to rest at home,” Haechan told his friends. “I’m going to Canada for a bit to visit my family.” Mark, who lived alone, told the group.

“Oh, Canada..” Haechan said nostalgically, and Mark laughed and slapped Haechan playfully. “Ah, why?” Haechan yelped, rubbing his shoulder. “Come on, I didn’t hit you THAT hard..” Mark replied, a little concerned. “Uh huh, sure, screw you too.” Haechan answered, and Mark sighed. 

The eight hung out for a bit then left to their own houses. Mark dropped off Jaemin, Jeno and Haechan, who lived near each other, then came back to drop off Jisung, Chenle and Y/N, who lived close by each other. 

“Bye, Renjun!” The three waved Renjun a goodbye as they got in Mark’s car. Mark dropped off Jisung first, then Chenle. “So, Y/N, how do you feel about the Riki incident?”

“I’m honestly not sure. I don’t like it, that’s all I’m certain of.” She answered, and Mark smiled lightly. “I sincerely wish you luck at university. But we’ll be there to support and help you, so I’m sure you’ll be fine.” He assured Y/N, dragging out the word ‘fine’.

“Thanks, Mark. It means a lot. Off topic, but we’re here. Thanks for the ride, too. Bye!”

Mark waved her off and drove away. 

——————       /ᐠ - ˕ -マ

“Hey, Renjun, I’m back.” Mark had decided to stop by Renjun’s place for a bit, albeit impulsively. “Oh, hi. What brings you here?”

“I was just wondering, and mind you, this is just a theory. Should we plan something with Enha? Like, a getaway?”

“That’s.. not a bad idea, Mark. But how? Where? When?”

“We can discuss that with the rest after finalizing the basics of the plan. And also after discussing if we can all afford to travel. Because I was thinking something along the lines of a trip to Europe…”

“WHAT? You have quite high hopes on our money, Mark. Of course we can afford it, but at what cost?”

“Good point. But it’s also a good trip idea. Maybe a bit overrated, but it would definitely be fun.”

“Well, we’ll see. Chenle is going away, and so are you. We’ll discuss it tomorrow. Is that the only reason you visited me?”

“No… I was wondering how you felt about Y/N ranting about Niki. Cause you get quite jealous when that happens, and it happens TOO often.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t exactly do anything about it, so I always deal with it, Mark.” Renjun replied, slightly annoyed. Mark, sensing his boundaries, ended the discussion there and left after a short while.

Argh, I really can’t believe that little shit will be Y/N’s rival at university, too. Renjun thought to himself, shutting the door behind Mark.

 ——————       /ᐠ - ˕ -マ

“Good morning!” 

“Who the hell are you?” Y/N yelled to the unknown voice, grouchy because she was woken up by some fool at… 8 in the morning.

“Ouch, I can’t believe you don’t recognize your best friend’s voice. It’s me, Huang Renjun, you dimwit.”

Y/N hesitated, then jumped out of bed, staring down her window to see her father and Renjun staring back up at her. “Good morning, my lovely daughter. Renjun here wanted to discuss a trip that you had apparently planned and not informed me about, but I approve.”

“Wha—“

“Ah, well, don’t mention it, Y/N. You’re welcome for convincing your father and mother. She left early for work, by the way. Anyway, you coming? We’re meeting at Mark’s place. I’m here to pick you up, too. Such a helpful friend, right?”

“Yeah.. helpful..” Y/N muttered, walking away to have a shower and get dressed, as her father let Renjun in the house to have some breakfast.

“So, Renjun, this trip to Europe, will it be with Y/N as the only girl?”

“Well.. we don’t really have any other girls in our group.. I could ask if Haechan’s younger sister or Jeno’s elder sister would want to join, but I don’t think they will.”

“Ah, I see. I think I’ll feel better if there’s another female in the group, so see what you can do.”

Shit. Renjun cursed mentally, but nodded. “I’ll try my best, sir. Anyways, what’s for breakfast?”

As Renjun wolfed down waffles, Y/N walked downstairs, attempting to brush her hair. “Waffles? Great. Thanks, Dad.”

“You’re welcome, but you should thank your mother. She cooked them and went off, but I’m reheating them for you.”

Y/N grinned and sat next to Renjun, grabbing a plate piled with waffles. As her father walked upstairs to get dressed to leave, she immediately interrogated Renjun.

“What’s this I hear about a trip?” She asked him, looking very angry. “Yeah, uhm, just go with it, okay? We’re going to Europe, but we’re not sure when. But I don’t know if you’re going to come because your dad wants another ‘female’ in the group.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

“I’M SORRY! I know I should’ve spoken to you about the whole thing but I thought it would make a nice surprise.”

“Uh huh..” Y/N trailed off, finding her waffles more important than the conversation that was running.

——————       /ᐠ - ˕ -マ

At Mark’s place, there was chaos.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, EUROPE?” Five boys yelled, and Mark covered his ears hastily. “Shut up. This is for your own good. Believe me. We need it. University is actually going to whoop our asses.”

“Yeah, right. More like you want to watch us try and fail miserably at trying to speak French. Oui, oui. I know.”

“Haechan, it’s not always about you and your — quite honestly — unhealthy obsession with French, okay? Let Renjun and Y/N get here, and THEN we’ll talk. Until then, shut up. Thanks.”

Haechan frowned and stormed off to the backyard, in an attempt to cool off — which, by the way, failed miserably as it was summer, so all that did was heat him up even more and force him to get back in the house — as the rest waited for the two to enter.

“I actually like the plan. Even if we all don’t go, I’ll go by myself.” Chenle, the richest, mumbled to himself, and Jisung stared at him repugnantly. “You’re such a traitor..”

“Hey, you guys!” Y/N rushed in, sensing the hostile environment and deciding to act as the diplomat for the day. “Y/N! Thank you!” Mark exhaled, running to thump Renjun on the back. “Hey, Mark. You didn’t have to.” Mark smiled in response, settling down.

“So, Y/N, we’re going to assume you know about the plans of the trip. Wait right here and think about what you’re going to say on the topic while I go get Haechan.” Jeno spoke before he left the room.

“Uhm, okay..” Y/N agreed, slightly confused, and did exactly what Jeno asked her to do. 

“Mark, I do NOT have an unhealthy obsession with French.” That dialogue was the way the group realized Haechan was back and still mad. “Yeah, Mark, apologize.” Jeno said, rolling his eyes behind Haechan. “Ugh, fine, Haechan, I offer my sincerest apologies for saying you have an unhealthy obsession with the language of France, known as French or Français. Please accept this apology and forgive me.”

“I don’t think I will.”

“Fuck you. Anyway, Y/N, Renjun convinced your parents, right? What’d they say?”

“They said fine, actually—“ Y/N began, only to be interrupted by Renjun, who had forgotten to tell Y/N what her father had told him. “Oh, Y/N, they said fine, but they want another girl to guarantee your safety.. and other girl stuff.”

The group fell silent. “Oh.” Y/N said.

“So.. I was going to ask if either Jeno’s sister or Haechan’s sister would join..” 

“Yeah, no.” The two answered in unison, and Renjun sighed. 

“I just had an idea. Why don’t we invite Jungwon and his friends?” Jisung piped up, and everyone looked at him. “Yeah, almost all of them have sisters. And I know Y/N gets along with Konon.” Chenle added.

“What confuses me is how she gets along with Riki’s older sister but can’t stand Riki himself.” Jisung said, and Y/N rolled her eyes. “She’s fun, and she doesn’t want to compete with me. She isn’t competitive, not at all.” Y/N reminisced about her friend, whom she hadn’t met in a while.

“But if we invite them, you do realize Niki will be coming too, right?” Chenle asked her, and Y/N paused. “Oh. My. God.

“Guys, you can go ahead. I not. I can’t. I no go.”

——————       /ᐠ - ˕ -マ

In the end, the group did not go ahead with the plan because someone couldn’t stand going to a beautiful place and seeing Nishimura Riki’s face there. 

“You are such a party-pooper, Y/N.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Haechan, you try hanging out with your nemesis in The City of Love, Paris.” Y/N was mad, and she made sure Haechan understood that. “Oh, please, Y/N. You didn’t even consider it!”

It had been a week since the discussion had been opened — and closed almost instantaneously — and the boys were constantly annoying Y/N about the way she shut down the Europe plan single-handedly with a snap of her fingers. 

“I did consider it, and I’m considering it now. I changed my mind! Instead of no, it’s a definite no.”

Haechan grunted and got up, irritated. “Well, I’m sorry, I told you guys to go by yourselves, right? Go.” Y/N called after him. The rest of the guys were involved in the football game they were watching, which explained the ignorance to something they considered deeply important to them — the trip to Europe.

“I think I’ll leave, you guys.” Y/N got up. They were at Chenle’s house, which was a walkable distance away from her place as long as it wasn’t summer. A person could melt in that heat.

“Ah, why?” They paused their game to look at Y/N, complaining all at once about how she didn’t spend time with them because she was always at home alone. “Shut up, you guys. I’m not going away permanently. I’ll walk myself out. Shut the door behind you!”

She walked as fast as she could to get home, and let herself in her house. There were less than 15 days left until university started, and she was concerned about her major. She had chosen economics at first, but then realized her heart wasn’t in it. And also because she hadn’t taken the subject at school either, she had to change her mind, fast.

She was considering Japanese as a major, but wanted to pick another major so she could show off and also keep herself busy. The only other majors she could pick and manage to handle would be English, Chinese, Accounting or Visual Arts. She was not confident of her arts, so she scratched it out. And English as a major would not be fun, which would put her off. Of course, she would easily grab herself an A* grade, but what was the fun in that? No, she needed to struggle.

Chinese it would be, then.

——————       /ᐠ - ˕ -マ

A week until university began, and the Dreamies were hanging out. “Guys, what are you going to major in?” Renjun asked the friends, and Y/N replied immediately. “Chinese and Japanese.”

“Woah, double major! Nice. I’m picking Dance.” Jisung said, and the group wasn’t surprised at all. Jisung was well known for his dance abilities, especially his popping skills. “I’m picking Music.” Haechan said, and Renjun nodded. “I’m also taking Music.” “I’m taking up Fashion Design.” Chenle spoke up. “I’m taking Journalism,” Mark announced, grinning. “You? Journalism? Woah. I’m taking Visual Arts.” Jaemin informed the group, who smiled and turned to Jeno, waiting for his answer.

“Guys, this might come as a surprise to you.. but I picked Veterinary Sciences.”

“Not really a big surprise.” Haechan immediately said, and the group murmured their agreement. “Yeah, sweetie, it was expected, but you’ll be taking the studies of sciences, and we’ll be all students of the arts.” Jaemin said, and Jeno sighed. “Yeah, I know. I’ll be busy most of the time, and I feel so sad about it. But we’ll meet, right?”

“Yeah, duh, you goof!” Mark said. “Who even uses goof anymore?” Chenle asked Mark, who shrugged. “Oh, shut up, Chenle.”

——————       /ᐠ - ˕ -マ

The day before university began, the group met up with their other group of friends, who called themselves Enha. Enha consisted of seven friends — Lee Heeseung, Park Jongseong (better known as Jay),  Sim Jaeyun (better known as Jake), Park Sunghoon, Kim Sunoo, Yang Jungwon, and (the Dreamies liked calling him Y/N’s favorite person) Nishimura Riki. 

“Hi, you guys! What’s up?” Jake greeted everyone, who were busy grabbing seats at the friend groups’ favorite café. “Nothing, really.” Jay replied on behalf of everyone, who nodded.

“You guys are boring. Why do I even hang out with you?”

“Because you don’t have friends.” Haechan answered, and Jake sighed. “Fair enough. I really hope you guys picked your majors.”

“Course we did. I’m doing Music with Renjun, Chenle is taking Fashion Design, Jaemin is taking Visual Arts, Jeno is taking Veterinary Sciences, Mark is taking Journalism, and Y/N is going to be a double major in Chinese and Japanese.” Haechan answered

“What.” Niki looked up and stared Y/N in the eye. “Wha-?” Y/N asked, too tired to argue. “I’m majoring in Japanese. How could you major in it too?”

That was when things went nuclear.

“Not everything revolves around you, you fool. I took Japanese because I wanted to master it and show it off to people, because I will put in effort. Did you expect me to read your mind? Huh? Like, ‘Oh! Riki is taking Japanese! I will sacrifice my passion for him!’ Why did you take Japanese, anyway? You speak it incredibly fluently. I would say you speak it a bit too fluently.”

“Hey! I didn’t expect you to read my mind. I thought it’d be obvious. Yes, it’s my native tongue, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to learn its culture and history. I love history, and you should know that. Because that’s the one subject I manage to keep defeating you in. And don’t you ever call me a fool. I never asked you to forfeit your passion. I wouldn’t have taken Japanese if I knew that’s your passion. As far as I’m aware, you never mentioned Japanese even once.”

The group, meanwhile, was watching the conversation play out like table tennis, their heads whipping from one side to another.

“Ah, culture and history. You? Learning culture? I would never believe that, even if the Presidents themselves declared it to the world. And, for your information, I don’t share all the information I have about me with people I consider my rivals. That’s literally rule number one in Not Being Foolish. Of course, you wouldn’t understand, because you are a huge fool. Did you hear me? F. O. O. L.”

“That’s it. I’m leaving. Do you not realize that learning your culture is a thing? You know what? I’m breaking Clause 1 of our rule book. Fuck. You.”

“How dare you? I’m breaking it too. Fuck you.”

The two stormed out of the café, only to realize they were headed in the same direction. Neither party wanted to concede, so they ended up staring in opposite directions while standing outside. The group of friends, meanwhile, were happily sipping their drinks and eating, being used to such arguments. In their experience, they’d either never make up or make up after ages. Till then, they would enjoy their time and keep them away from each other. 

After their café outing, the two enemies were still standing outside the café, much to the annoyance of the owner of the place, who was constantly seen trying to be the diplomat for the two and failing miserably each time. The rest of their friends walked out, and they rejoined their respective friend groups, waving goodbye to the others and glaring at each other angrily. They then proceeded to storm off as fast as possible into the cars of the drivers of the friend groups.

“I can’t believe I have to see his face in almost all my classes.”

“I can’t believe I have to see her face in almost all my classes.”

——————       /ᐠ - ˕ -マ

“Good morning, class! We’ll be starting our Japanese Studies class tomorrow. For now, I want to test your level of Japanese. People who don’t speak it fluently but want to learn only the history, this class is not for you. The Japanese Culture and History class begins at 12 noon. Those who speak Japanese at a beginner or intermediate level, yes, this class might be the one you’ve taken, but I hope you’ve also opted to get Japanese tutoring with me after school. For those of you who have, the tutoring is on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, between 6-7 PM. You may stay back or leave and return, but please make sure to attend. For those of you who speak at an advanced level, I’m glad! You don’t have extra classes to attend. 

“Welcome, all my students! I hope you are ready to learn more about Japanese, a beautiful language and culture. I will be your teacher for Japanese Studies and Japanese Culture and History. Japanese Studies is the literature and language part of Japanese offered at Zephyr University, and if you speak Japanese fluently, and want to master it almost completely, you’re in the right place. I’m your professor, and we will have a quick quiz to try and figure out your level of Japanese understanding. This will be a written test that involves listening, reading and writing skills. I don’t want to test your speaking skills at the moment, since even the most confident Japanese writers have trouble with speaking the language. If you’re ready, I’ll give out the test papers.”

It was a vaguely sunny Monday morning, and the day had barely begun. But it was already going bad for two people, called Y/N L/N and Nishimura Riki, who considered each other their enemies, but had ended up sitting next to each other. When the two realized that they would have to spend the rest of their degree next to each other, they bowed politely and shuffled as far to the edge of the shared seat as they could. They shook hands and agreed not to bother each other unless it was for coursework, and clamped their mouths shut.

The two wrote and passed the test with flying colors, and were pronounced ‘Japanese speakers whom I need to befriend’ by the professor, who looked too proud to be real. The students thanked the professor and smiled at each other as fakely as possible to pass as a smile to the professor’s keen eyes, and sat yet again on the edge of the shared seat.

After class, the professor stopped the two at the door. “I hope to see you two interact more often, and I hope to interact with you two too. I’m glad to have such students in my class. The other advanced learners will not be paired with you two for group projects. I’ll probably have the intermediate learners be with you, so that they learn something. I hope you enjoyed my class!”

The two enemies attempted to formulate a response that would be appropriate, half-succeeded, and ran away from each other like their lives depended on it.

——————       /ᐠ - ˕ -マ

“Bro, I swear, Renjun, I might just slap Niki if I get compared to him in class.” 

“But Y/N, the professor is the one comparing you.”

“Yeah, well, the professor is sweet. Niki? Not so much. After seeing our performance in his Culture and History class, the professor decided he would ask both of us to dinner with some of his senior students.”

Renjun winced. “Sheesh, getting invited to dinner really takes a lot out of you, right? Especially if it’s an opportunity to create contacts with people who might be useful to you later.”

“Huh. You’re right. When did I become like this? I would’ve jumped at an opportunity to get contacts. Is this what enemies do to you?”

“Maybe. Now, can I please go pee?”

“I’m so sorry. Please go.”

It was lunchtime, and Renjun had gone to Y/N’s class to pick her up and drop her off at the cafeteria, then go to the bathroom. But Y/N had other plans, so he had ended up listening to her rant about Nishimura Riki for about six minutes until he could actually go pee. ‘The things I do for someone I like..’ he thought to himself, running away from Y/N.

Meanwhile, the Dreamies were waiting for the two best friends in the cafeteria, having reserved a table next to none other than Enha, unfortunately for Y/N.

“Where the heck are they?” Mark asked, getting impatient. Renjun had forced the Dreamies to sit and not grab their lunch till the two of them got there. Y/N was taking her own sweet time to walk, deep in thought, while Renjun had run to the other side of campus because all bathrooms in their side were undergoing maintenance checks.

After five minutes of impatient foot-tapping, Renjun arrived, and much to his shock, Y/N hadn’t arrived. “Did Y/N really not show up?”

“Yeah, she did! She’s right here, sitting next to Karen, my daughter.” Haechan said sarcastically, not forgetting to add a bunch of curse words under his breath. “If you’ll excuse me, Renjun, I will go eat.” Jaemin said, who was pissed off because of how his classes went. The table followed, leaving Renjun to call Y/N repeatedly, who had just made it outside the cafeteria door.

“Where were you?” Renjun asked her when she finally sat, and she sighed. “Sorry, I was daydreaming.” “Which is an acceptable excuse any other time, but after making me wait to pee and making the table wait to eat, it isn’t even remotely okay.”

“I’m sorry, I swear. I’ll go get my food.” Y/N got up to join the long queue, leaving Renjun to save the table for themselves and go hungry.

‘The things I do for someone I like..’

——————       /ᐠ - ˕ -マ

Before they knew it, a week had flown by, and it had been a hectic week indeed. The first years had clubs to join, parties to throw, exams and quizzes and tests to pass, assignments to hand in, sleep to get, food to eat, fun to have, friends to make, but no time. The first ever party had already been thrown, but being the academic overachievers they were, Y/N and Niki had stayed back, leaving their friends to tell them each and every detail of the party.

“I don’t drink alcohol, ever.” Niki shrugged when his friends came back, and they sighed, “This wasn’t an alcohol party. We don’t do underage drinking. It’s not cool.”

“Oh. Well. Um. I had to study, we have a test coming up—“

“Save the lies, we had a bunch of Japanese majors in the party. And before you mention Sociology, we had Sociology takers too. You don’t take any other classes, so you find yourself in a sticky position right about.. now.” Jungwon told Niki, settling down on Niki’s bed. “Ugh, I hate you guys sometimes.”

“The feeling’s mutual, sometimes.” Sunghoon assured him, taking a seat next to Jungwon, on the bed.

“How was the party?” Niki asked, choosing to ignore the statement. “It was fun, but I saw the Dreamies without Y/N. I think you both are perfect for each other.” Sunoo commented casually, attempting to make his hair sit flat. “Yeah, no, don’t ever say that again.” Niki replied, a bit annoyed.

“Okay then. Anyway, I’m going to go, I need my sleep.” Sunoo said, leaving after waving everyone goodbye. One by one, everyone left Niki’s room, leaving him alone.

He scrunched his eyebrows, running a hand through his hair.

“Shit, are we perfect for each other?”

——————       /ᐠ - ˕ -マ

A similar showdown went on in Y/N’s room, where the boys had gone after the party. After assuring Y/N that they had never consumed alcohol, ever, they proceeded to tell Y/N that Niki hadn’t been at the party either. Haechan made the grave mistake of stating that Y/N and Niki were perfect for each other.

“Bye, Haechan. I hope you lose your way home and step on a Lego.”

“I’m just pointing out what’s obvious.” Haechan shrugged, leaving the room without another word after seeing the look on Y/N’s face. Eventually everyone left, and Y/N sighed.

“We can’t be perfect for each other, right? Shit, are we?”

——————       /ᐠ - ˕ -マ

After that conversation with their friends, the two enemies went from enemies to just plain awkward. Their friends’ words repeated in their heads like a mantra, and took up a fair amount of space in their minds. 

Another person who was haunted by the sentence was Renjun, who couldn’t shake the feeling that something would happen that would cause him to be forced to not like Y/N anymore. 

In almost no time, midterms season began, and the two friend groups, Enha and the Dreamies immediately dispersed to study on their own. They had tried the method of group study, but declared it useless when they got their eleventh grade midterm results. The groups had decided to never speak of that day ever again.

Exams were hectic, but what was more stressful for Y/N and Niki was that one sentence said by two people but with the exact same words. Coincidence? They thought NOT.

The only time they properly spoke was when the midterms results came out. “Congratulations, Y/N.” Niki said, attempting to shake her hand but changing his mind halfway, using his stretched hand to rub his head instead. “Thank you, Riki.” Y/N replied, equally awkward. Their friends watched the little exchange, incredibly confused. Where were the backhanded insults?

They decided to investigate by themselves. Enha recounted their conversations with Niki, and the Dreamies recalled conversations with Y/N, trying to find anything weird. Eventually, the conversation came to the night of the party. They spoke about the sentence, and realized they had messed up big time.

“Woah, Sunoo, we’re a match made in heaven!” Haechan exclaimed, and Sunoo shuddered. “No offense, but I really don’t —“

“Oh, let me have my moment.”

They discussed the problem and concluded that they’d just have to wait it out.

——————       /ᐠ - ˕ -マ

How long would they remain waiting, though? It was really getting rather boring. How could one sentence affect two enemies so deeply? Unless..

No, they couldn’t possibly be developing feelings for each other.

No.

Those were the thoughts in Renjun’s head, as he walked to pick up Y/N from class as usual. “Y/N, are you sure you still hate Niki? I haven’t heard you rant about him in months..”

“Of course I don’t like him. Anyway, what’s for lunch?”

Renjun didn’t miss the not-so-subtle conversation change, but didn’t comment for his own mental stability. If his long-time crush was crushing on her long-time enemy, he would rather die than know. “Ah, I think they have hotpot. But you know we shouldn’t risk it. What if it’s bad?”

“What if it’s good? I think taking risks is good. We didn’t have it last time but everyone loved it. Besides, it’s made by the Chinese Culture students, and I’m one of them. Don’t worry. And yeah, yeah, I haven’t tasted it.”

“Ah, fine. Just for you.” Renjun offhandedly commented, but didn’t realize the full extent of what he’d said until a few seconds later. But Y/N had already moved on, and his heart broke, just a little bit.

——————       /ᐠ - ˕ -マ

It was the time of the year when the students would be assigned groups for their group projects that counted toward 40 percent of their grades, and Y/N had two groups to balance out. Unfortunately, as she had anticipated but hoped against, the person she was most awkward around, Nishimura Riki, was in her group for her Japanese project. 

“So, what do you guys think we should do for the project? The professor has given us full freedom as long as we have a presentation.” Y/N gulped her personal life and put on her professional behavior. She never mixed work with personal stuff.

Their group consisted of Y/N, Riki, and two intermediate students: Kim Chaewon and Han Jisung.

“I feel like we can do a presentation on the fashion industry through the years!” Chaewon offered, and Han shrugged. “I’m fine with that topic, but I’ll have you know that I can’t speak on it. So I’m not going to present the topic, but I’m open to do the rest of the work.”

“That’s fine, Han. Riki, do you think the topic is fine?”

“Yes, I think it is.” Riki replied shortly, and the group sighed, relieved. “Well, we have the difficult part out of the way. So we’ll meet tomorrow and discuss the workload. We have a month, right? We can do this.” Y/N, the natural leader, said, and Han saluted her. “Okay. We have dance practice at our club, so we’ll take our leave, thank you!” Chaewon indicated herself and Han, and the two rushed out, as they were running late.

Which left the awkward pair together.

“So.. Y/N, do you have any ideas for the presentation? I’m bad at fashion, but I can try researching.”

“Actually.. I’m crap at fashion, too. But Chaewon is well known for her designs. She’s a fashion design major! But she minors in Japanese. Chenle was telling me she’s their professor’s favorite. So we’ll count on her for the design part. We can figure out the theme of the PowerPoint, and the history part. We can give the PowerPoint making part to Han, because he’s a tech whiz. We can research the history and pop-culture behind trends, and the backstory of the designs!”

Niki smiled at Y/N’s enthusiasm, causing Y/N to ask him what was up. “Nothing, seeing you enthusiastic makes me laugh.” Niki shrugged, opening up his laptop to start researching. What he saw out of the corner of his eyes was Y/N reddening slightly, and that made Niki grin to himself.

The start of things.

——————       /ᐠ - ˕ -マ

“How did you find the group for your group project? Ours is incredible!” Renjun said, happy that he and Haechan were in the same group with other intellectual students. 

“Yeah, I’m happy. Me, Niki, Chaewon and Han Jisung are in a group together!” Y/N said, smiling at Renjun. 

“Wait. Hold on. Happy and Niki in one sentence? Did something happen?” “No, but Niki isn’t half bad when he isn’t being mean, you know?”

Renjun’s heart broke a bit yet again, but he didn’t say anything.

——————       /ᐠ - ˕ -マ

“So, hi guys. Han, we sent you a bit of research. Were you able to format it and add it to the presentation?”

“Yeah. I shared you guys the link, just check your mail. And I also added Chaewon’s sketches, so look over it. And who’s presenting?”

“Mostly Chaewon.”

“I’m happy.” The fashion major smiled, and got back to her sketches. “Anyway, this is a bit of a modern take on a kimono that a popular fashion designer created. I've texted you the designer’s details, Han. Just scan this sketch and add the details to the PPT, would you?”

“Yeah, sure, Chaewon. Y/N?”

Y/N, realizing she was caught, blinked herself back to reality. She had been staring at Niki, wondering why something had changed. She couldn’t put a finger on what had changed exactly, but she knew something was up with herself.

“What’s up, Han?”

“Could you just look up this guy’s Wikipedia page? Chaewon says they’re really popular, so I think we should add a slide for the person.”

“Okay, done. You got it.”

“Niki?”

Niki, also realizing he was caught, looked at Han. He had also been wondering what had changed between him and Y/N’s enmity “Yeah, Han?”

“Could you please help out Y/N? I need to finish this slide and get to class.”

“Right, okay.” Niki walked over to Y/N, grabbing a chair and sitting next to Y/N. “What do you need help with?” “Nothing, really. Just help me cut out unwanted information.”

And the group sat to work with each other, proving to be an excellent team. They knew who the professor’s favorites would be, starting next year.

Chaewon and Han ran off to their classes, leaving Niki and Y/N to continue their research. Since their schedules differed, Chaewon and Han worked whenever they could, and Y/N and Niki worked together whenever they could. 

“Niki, I don’t mean to make things awkward, but don’t you get the feeling we’ve changed?” “Yeah, well, people change, Y/N—“

“You know as well as I do that that’s not what I meant.”

“Right.” Niki paused for a bit, and Y/N spun to look at him.

“Do you think it’s more awkward than it used to be between us?” Niki asked, and Y/N sighed. “Yeah, and we aren’t even enemies anymore. I would go as far as to say we’re.. friends?”

“Huh. Strange. I agree that it’s awkward, by the way. It’s just, Sunoo said something that spooked me.” “Funny. Haechan said something that creeped me out too.”

“Wait..”

“Sunoo said that we’re meant for each other, didn’t he.”

“Holy shit.” Niki’s eyes widened, and he immediately turned back to his laptop, leaving Y/N to contemplate her life, yet again.

——————       /ᐠ - ˕ -マ

“Sunoo, why would you say that?”

Y/N had decided to personally pay a visit to Sunoo, who was extremely lost. “Ah, Y/N, unfortunately I say a lot of things, so unless you get specific..”

“About me and Niki being perfect for each other.”

“Ah.”

Sunoo quietly walked away, making Y/N run after him indignantly. “Oi! Just answer!”

“Obviously because you are perfect for each other. In fact, I’d be willing to bet you that Haechan is being harassed by Niki for the same reason that you’re harassing me about.”

“… I’ll call Haechan and ask him.”

Y/N obediently dialed Haechan, who picked up after some time. “Y/N, save me! Niki is running after me for God knows what!”

Y/N sighed and disconnected the call. “Fine, you win. But I don’t like him.”

“Yeah, you don’t.” Sunoo agreed, walking away. “Yet.”

Meanwhile, Haechan was hazardously running around campus while Niki chased him, shouting, “Get back here, Haechan! We need to talk!” 

Eventually, the two boys were exhausted and so they stopped by a tree. 

“Haechan, why’d you..” Niki half-heartedly laid on the grass, catching his breath. 

“Why’d.. what..” Haechan asked, equally exhausted. “Why’d you tell Y/N..”

“What..?”

“That we’re perfect,”

“Ah.” Haechan sighed, sitting down next to Niki. “Look, you both have similar personalities and behavior. The two of you are smart, share the same friend groups and even majors, although Y/N is a double major. I’m sure teachers ship you privately, too. Not that it’s their business, but then again, most teachers make it their business to pair people who are beneficial to each other.” Haechan took a deep breath, tired.

“I see. But I wish you hadn’t. We’re awkward now. In fact, the only reason I confronted you is because we brought this up yesterday. It’s sort of a good thing, since we aren’t exactly enemies anymore, but we don’t exactly feel too comfortable around each other. But we see each other as friends, for the moment.”

“.. did you say for the moment? NIKI, DO YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON—“

“SHUT UP, HAECHAN!”

Things are in motion.

——————       /ᐠ - ˕ -マ

“Renjun, and Haechan, how’s your group project?” Y/N asked Renjun at the cafeteria table with the Dreamies. Haechan chose not to speak, instead stuffing his mouth full of rice cakes, leaving Renjun to answer. “Yes, it’s going great. I’m happy with our progress.”

“That’s great! Chenle, I heard from Chaewon that your group is doing amazing so far because that person dropped out. Do you find it fun?”

“Yes! Very much so. That person was annoying us. Thank God the professor realized it and kicked them off our group. Which reminds me. Jaemin, are you glad you’re working solo?”

“Yeah. Listening to my friends’ stories, I can’t help thinking my team projects can wait till second year. But Jeno is the luckiest. They don’t even have a group project in Year 1!”

“Yeah, we don’t. But then again, our major is difficult so.. we need balance.” Jeno said, pretending to levitate. The group laughed at him.

“Mark, how’s Journalism?”

“Eh.. I don’t know. I think I’ll switch majors. You guys remember when I used to compose songs, right?”

“OH, MY GOD! YES! PLEASE JOIN US!” Haechan swallowed his food instantly and clapped his hands together. Renjun nodded aggressively, and Mark grinned. “It’s decided then. I’m switching majors!”

The table cheered, making the cafeteria turn their heads. When they saw that it was the Dreamies, they went back to their food.

——————       /ᐠ - ˕ -マ

“Niki, Chaewon and Han won’t be joining us today. They have dance practice for two hours, so I asked them to give themselves a rest. We’re almost done, anyway.”

“Ah, that’s fine. I honestly wish we didn’t have to end this project. Working with you guys is so fun.” Niki replied to Y/N. The two were sitting together and researching for their concluding slide and speech, because ‘Two minds are better than one!’.

“Aww. I had fun working with you too.” Y/N replied, smiling at him. Riki hastily looked away, so that Y/N didn’t see him blush. ‘When did I start getting this way?’ He wondered silently. “Thanks!” He said out loud.

“You’re welcome!” Y/N grinned again, and looked back at her computer screen. ‘Jeez, he looks good today.’

“Um, Y/N, can I tell you something then leave? You don’t have to comment. You can just forget it.”

“Sure, go ahead. But now I’m scared. Do you have a grim secret that no one knows about?”

“Grim, yes, no one knows, no. Um. I… kind of like you?” 

Niki got up robotically and walked out of the room.

“I like you too!” Y/N called after him, not realizing that he hadn’t meant it in a platonic way.

——————       /ᐠ - ˕ -マ             LET’S REWIND!

. . . . . 🛁    [6th Grade]

 “First place, Y/N L/N!” The host yelled into the mic, as Y/N walked up to the stage to collect her award. ‘Woah, she looks so pretty!’ Nishimura Riki thought to himself, watching his crush walk on stage. “Second place, Nishimura Riki!” The host called, and Riki walked on stage too, taking a place next to Y/N. “Ugh, did you cheat?” He asked her, rolling his eyes dramatically. 

“No, I could ask you the same, though. Second place? Really?” She rolled her eyes back at him. 

“Oh, please. Me? Cheat? Yeah, right. You’re just jealous.” Niki replied, smirking lightly. “No, you!”

“Okay, hush now, kids.” The host smiled kindly at the two nemeses, remembering her own time at school.

. . . . . 🛁    [9th Grade]

“Did you really kiss that idiot?” Niki confronted Y/N after school. “Come on, it was just a dare. Why do you care anyway?”

“I don’t.” Niki said out loud, but his heart screamed at him to tell her everything. ‘Yeah, I do care, because I’ve crushed on you for the past three years of my life!’

“This is a waste of my time.” Y/N walked away, leaving Niki alone with his feelings.

. . . . . 🛁    [10th Grade]

The snow was falling, and it was the first snow of the year. Niki was with his enemy by day, crush by night, Y/N. 

“Y/N, I have something to tell you.”

“What is it?”

“I.. like you. A lot.”

“Aww! Niki, I like you too! In fact, let’s get married right now.”

Niki woke up, and smiled to himself. ‘You fool, if you don’t watch out, you’ll be in love with her and you won’t differentiate dreams versus reality.’

. . . . . 🛁    [11th Grade]

“Y/N, will you please keep quiet? You have done nothing but annoy me the whole class. You are an insufferable know-it-all.”

The teacher was one who was hated by the whole school, including the teachers. But the principal had no choice but to keep him in school, since he was on contract. 

Y/N was being unfairly yelled at, but no one had the courage to help her out. Y/N had tears in her eyes that she was trying to desperately blink to eternal hell, but she was still being scolded.

“Sir, how can you yell at her for your mistakes? She isn’t your assistant. It was your duty to correct and grade our papers. Just because you forgot to do it doesn’t mean you take your anger out on innocent students.” Niki stood up, really annoyed.

Thanks to Niki, the whole class rose against the teacher, and he was put on unpaid leave.

“Thanks, Nishimura. I owe you one.” Y/N said after the issue.

They went back to being enemies.

She still owed him one.

——————       /ᐠ - ˕ -マ             BACK 2 THE PRESENT!

“NIKI! Wait up!” Y/N had realized quite quickly that the statement was not platonic. However, Sir Nishimura The Bashful had made a run for it, and Y/N was on scouting mode.

“Niki! Wait.” After a bit of running, she found Niki about to run into the male toilets. 

“What? You said I could make a run for it.”

“Look.. I don’t like you in that way. I’m not sure if I will. But things are changing between us. And.. I think I like the change. We’re friends, right? Right now, that’s all we’re going to be. I don’t want to give you even an inkling of hope. Because anything could happen. I’m sorry, Niki. If it’s too awkward, we’ll not hang out anymore. Let’s just finish the project.”

Niki smiled softly. “Y/N, relax. I will like you. My feelings will probably not change. And I’m sorry for being so mean all these years. It wasn’t good. It was toxic. I was trying to mask my feelings and ended up being mean. There’s absolutely no pressure on you. And why would there be? You don’t like me, it’s the end of the story. If you ever do, just know I’m right here. And I’m fine being friends. But I know you’ll find it awkward. So if you ever do, talk about it. Now, I will hide away in the bathrooms. Please do not find me. Thank you.”

Y/N watched as her sworn enemy-turned-liked melted away into the bathrooms, and sighed as she walked away, heart heavy, feeling dejected.

What she didn’t know was that Renjun had seen it all happen. And what she didn’t know was that Renjun’s heart was chipping away bit by bit.

——————       /ᐠ - ˕ -マ             

“Ugh, I just wanna travel somewhere.” Y/N told Renjun, who had been uncharacteristically silent the whole day. It had been two days since the confession, and Niki and Y/N were just projectmates at the moment. “I want to too, but you know we’re busy. Just two more days, then we leave for break, and then we immediately have our exams. Time’s flying.”

“Right, I forgot about the break and exams. Is this the effect of university? Don’t answer that. How’s your project presentation? Is it done?”

“Yeah, it is. Knowing you and Riki, yours should be done too.”

“Yeah! Chaewon is presenting, so I don’t have to worry much. I’m helping Han present, and Nishimura will be helping Chaewon. So I’m just going to relax for now, and the Chinese project is super easy. I picked food culture, which is incredibly easy. My team is presenting tomorrow for Chinese, and Japanese is on the last day.”

“Great.” Renjun replied shortly. Y/N was left confused.

“Renjun, are you fine?”

“Great.” Renjun attempted a smile, which wobbled slightly.

“If you don’t wanna talk, fine. I’ll go.”

‘Don’t go.. I’m sorry.’ 

Was what Renjun wanted to say. Instead, he said, “Fine, I guess.”

——————       /ᐠ - ˕ -マ  

Renjun was just a bit broken. But he would be fine, as always. He was used to the complete cold behavior that Y/N showed sometimes. She wasn’t often sentimental with him, and it seemed like she lacked emotions sometimes.

Renjun liked following his routine. He would wake up, brush his teeth, take a shower, get dressed, go downstairs, read the newspaper while he ate, remind himself not to think about Y/N, think about Y/N, shake his head and revise the previous day’s lessons, then leave. University wasn’t a clear-cut routine, so he went with the flow. The one thing that was routine was him picking Y/N up for lunch.

It was obvious that Nishimura Riki hated him, because Riki had already picked Y/N up for lunch. 

‘He’s competition, alright.’

Renjun had to resort to walking with Haechan, who could be chatty sometimes (read: always). “How are things with Y/N?”

Renjun gasped as if he’d been electrocuted, clutching his heart. “How do you know? Only Mark knew!”

“What? I meant your friendship. Wait, what the fuck?”

“Haechan, do me a favor. Drop me in the ground. I’ll dig a hole for you. Please. All you have to do is watch me crawl then bury me.”

——————       /ᐠ - ˕ -マ  

While Renjun was confessing to Haechan about his true feelings for Y/N, Niki was having fun with Y/N, annoying her so she would tell him her bias in Weak Boy Scouts, the world’s most popular boy band.

“Why are you asking?”

“Because I want to get to know you better. I’m kidding, I need blackmail material.”

“Ugh, screw you. My bias is T.”

“Woah. Mine’s G-sad. He’s an amazing dancer.”

“Yeah, that reminds me. Why didn’t you major in dance? You have a talent, and you’re passionate about it.”

“Well.. Japanese is my mother tongue, and I wanted to respect it. Besides, you were taking it too, so..”

“Wait, you gave up your passion so you could be in the same class as me?”

“No! That was just a bonus. Besides, I do dance. In classes. I work a part-time job at a dance studio, you know.”

“I did not know.”

“… The more you know?”

Y/N enjoyed getting to know Niki, because she was curious. After all these years of being enemies, she hadn’t realized that she and Niki really were eerily similar. Niki loved hotpot too, and Y/N promised to take him to the best hotpot restaurant in their town.

“Well, that was fun. But we have class now, so I’ll leave. You have Chinese next, right? Enjoy.” Niki smiled and waved, picking up his bag and leaving.

Y/N stared after him, wondering why and how everything had changed so drastically.

——————       /ᐠ - ˕ -マ  

“Renjun, you’ve been avoiding me all these days.”

The Dreamies were having dinner together, since it was break and they hadn’t hung out in three days. The others took the dialogue as a cue to leave, and Renjun looked at Haechan and Mark pleadingly. They shrugged as if to say ‘You’re on your own, buddy,’ and left with the boys, crossing their fingers behind their backs.

“Nah, not really. You have been busy. With your new best friend, Riki.”

“Well, I’m allowed to have other friends. He’s not my best friend. You are, and you always will be.”

‘Ouch,’ Renjun thought. “Friend? He has a crush on you. Or maybe he’s in love with you. Friend? I think not.”

“Well, guess what? You’re wrong, Renjun. Friend. He’s a friend. I don’t know how you know about his crush on me, but we agreed to stay friends.”

“Ah, yeah right. You can’t be friends with your crush. Believe me, I’d know.”

And know he did. Even now, he had the urge to apologize over and over for instigating the argument. He never could stand when he argued with Y/N. But he had to stand his ground this time. He didn’t want to let go of what could possibly be his first love.

“You know what? I don’t want to have this conversation with you. I’m leaving. Don’t talk to me.”

“Y/N..” Renjun called after her, but she’d already left.

She’d left with a big chunk of his heart. What else could she possibly take?

——————       /ᐠ - ˕ -マ  

Over time, Y/N and Renjun grew more distant, much to their dismay. They tried meeting, but it had become too awkward. And also over time, Niki and Y/N had grown closer, much to Renjun’s discomfort. He knew he was almost totally to blame, but a small part of him pined for Y/N and the fun they used to have.

‘No, Renjun. It’s time to move on,’ he shook himself, looking in the mirror, attempting to smolder.

‘Yeah, no, you’re in deep shit.’

On the other hand, Y/N did think about Renjun. But in a pissed off way, not in an emotional way. She discussed her problem with Niki, who suggested reaching out to him to discuss the problem.

‘How the hell did it come to this? Me, asking Nishimura Riki, for help?’ She mentally slapped herself, looking at Niki as he explained to her.

“So, you should ask him to talk and discuss your little argument. How is he jealous of you spending time with Chaewon?” 

Y/N hadn’t been completely honest, but what option did she have?

“Anyway, my point is that you should reach out to him first. He’s probably trying to do the same but doesn’t have the guts. So show him who’s more courageous. It’s a power move, for sure.”

Y/N sighed at the prospect of confronting Renjun. She wished it was easy, but it wasn’t. “Thanks, Niki. I appreciate it.”

She immediately shot a text to Renjun, who was debating whether to reply immediately or save his ego.

“Yeah, he said he’ll meet me after his classes.”

——————       /ᐠ - ˕ -マ  

“Y/N, look. I’m sorry. I’m an idiot. Of course you can hang out with Niki. It’s your life. I'm nobody. Enjoy. And this isn’t sarcastic or bitter or anything negative. I’m being honest. I didn’t take the first step this time, but I’m sorry for that.”

“I’m sorry too, Renjun. I know that you meant the best for me. But I trust that Niki will respect me and my boundaries if he likes me that much. So don’t worry, and we’ll hang out more often. I could never forget you at all. You’re my best friend, and have been since the fifth grade.”

And so they made up, no matter how bad the apologies were or how bad the argument had been. 

Things will never be the same.

——————       /ᐠ - ˕ -マ  

Time flew, and it was finals season. Students everywhere were falling ill due to the stress, and the university’s nurse’s office was overwhelmed by the number of students complaining of a variety of illnesses. “Jeez, you would think we’re the only doctors in the city.” The nurse complained to Y/N, who had accompanied Niki to the nurse because he was feeling feverish.

“Yeah, you’re running a fever, kid. A high one, at that. A whopping 103 degrees. What have you been doing?”

“Studying..” Niki replied hoarsely, and the doctor sighed. “Stay in the office, I’ll get the nurse to arrange a bed for you. I’ll give you medicines in a few minutes, there are students I have to treat. I swear, kids these days..”

The doctor trailed off, wiping her forehead as she greeted a horde of students.

“Ah, Niki, why do you do this to yourself?” Y/N sighed, staring at Niki.

“Your phone’s ringing,” Niki ignored her, looking at her phone. “Yeah, I’ll pick it up.”

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Renjun. You busy?”

“Kind of. What’s up?”

“I needed a favor, I’m feeling slightly cold, do you mind dropping in? My parents aren’t in town, and I needed someone’s opinion.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t.. Can you get someone else to come?”

“… You were my first contact, but sure. Thanks a lot, Y/N.”

Y/N sighed, shutting her phone off. “Who was it?”

“No one, Niki, just rest.”

——————       /ᐠ - ˕ -マ  

“This kid has a fever of 104 degrees, what’s happening to kids? I swear.”

Y/N looked up from her phone to see Renjun being rushed into the doctor’s office by Mark and Jisung. “He’d collapsed, but he said something about calling you before he fell?” Mark asked, bewildered.

‘What the fuck?’ Y/N was in shock, but she masked it. “He had called me, but I was with Niki.. so..”

“Where are his friends? I thought you and Renjun were best friends—“

“Hey, just because we’re best friends doesn’t mean there are other people that I can just ditch.”

“Sounds like you’re prioritizing a bit weirdly. Do you have a crush on Niki or something? Because that’s definitely an unacceptable excuse for ditching your best friend of more than 8 years.”

“Shut up, Mark. I’ll apologize later.”

‘Argh, Y/N, how many more apologies can you offer someone with a broken heart?’ Mark groaned to himself, staring at Renjun’s feverish face.

——————       /ᐠ - ˕ -マ  

Many students had to postpone their final paper, but it had all been done and dusted. The teacher from Y/N’s old school had called her to talk about the improvement in her relationship with Niki, which she found strange. 

“Anyway, the teacher was happy. Did the teacher call you too?”

“Yeah, pretty much the same thing.” Niki answered, grinning. 

The students of Zephyr University were on break, and boy, did they plan on having fun.

Much to Y/N’s disappointment, Renjun had not accepted her shabby apology, but had sighed and conceded after a week of not speaking to her. Now, he was in China like he’d wanted to go the previous year, and her only hope was Niki. 

“Niki, if I told you I liked you right now, what would you do?”

It had been a light question, but the look on Niki’s face told Y/N that he had taken it much more seriously than she had assumed he would.

“Why, do you?”

“Well.. I do enjoy being with you, and I think I’ve prioritized you over a lot of stuff, and you are quite attractive, but.. actually, I don’t know. Maybe I do like you.”

“Woah. If you do, I’d say that I’m happy and say that I’d ask you out after we finish our second year.”

“And I’d say okay.”

“Woah.”

“Woah, indeed.”

Y/N smiled. She wasn’t sure if she liked him the way he did, but she did know that she was falling for him day by day. And she told him that, wanting to have a clean slate from the very beginning.

That was where it all started. And ended.

——————       /ᐠ - ˕ -マ  

What started, you may ask? Chaos. Like turning to love. The enemies dating, and rumors flying.

What ended? Ha, what a great question. Y/N’s friendship with Renjun? Nope.

Quite far off. Everyone noticed it happening slowly. But they didn’t want to jinx it. Their academic rivalry was gone, and so was Renjun’s sanity!

“Mark! How the hell did they end up falling for each other? I’m dying to know here!” Renjun fanned himself aggressively with a hand fan he had to buy for the summer heat in China. He was currently with Mark, trying to figure out what he did wrong.

“Oh, I don’t know. The two of them are attractive, smart, quite well off, fun, likable, friendly, funny. What’s not to like?”

Renjun groaned, slumping in his seat. “It’s too late, Renjun. You’re not ever going to confess, are you?” Mark asked him.

No, Renjun decided not to. He would get over it all by himself. He had no choice but to. If Y/N was happy, so was he. And if it meant that she had to be happy without him, so be it. He would do whatever it took to get over her. And if he never found happiness without her, he would have to be satisfied with being friends. 

——————       /ᐠ - ˕ -マ  

Y/N and Niki started dating after their second year of university, as Niki had promised they would. They graduated two years later, with their friends by their side. They stopped at a bachelor’s degree, and now the two of them work as translators.

Mark and Haechan completed their bachelor’s degree, and went on to become a singer-songwriter duo that reached the stars with every song they released. People worldwide loved the Lee duo, and no supporter matched the energy of their friends.

Jeno went on to study for his master’s in veterinary sciences, and became a popular veterinarian. Animals loved him, and his favorite animals to treat were Samoyeds.

Jaemin became an artist, and had a museum dedicated to him and his artwork. He was well known for being the 21st century’s Pablo Picasso. His art was known for having a bunny drawn in the art as some part of it.

Chenle became a fashion designer for his own label, which held the ranks that companies like Prada, Dior, Chanel, were known for. His designs were known for being fresh, light and themed, with something new and key in each of his designs.

Jisung became one of the world’s most famous choreographers and dancers, and also taught dance to students who were willing to learn from him. He traveled all over the world to spread his joy for dancing, but always made sure to keep time aside for his friends.

Renjun became a singer, who composed his songs by himself. The Lee Duo and Renjun collaborated often, and the lyrics of their first song together became viral for the relatability and sadness, while the beat went viral for giving a club-like, fresh energy.

——————       /ᐠ - ˕ -マ  

[DAISY.] Released by Huang Renjun ft. The Lee Duo

               Prod. MARK

              Performed by Huang Renjun and HAECHAN

              Written by Huang Renjun

My first love, you were like a daisy

Soft and tender, so why’d you drive me so crazy?

You were my one-sided love that hurt forever

We used to be best friends, but you probably don't call me that anymore

If you’d call me now, I’d run to you whenever

For you and I, for you and I 

You never loved me but I’ll always wonder what could’ve been in store

I’d run to you in the blink of an eye

For you and I, for you and I

I’ve loved you so much, no, I can’t lie

For you and I, you and I 

Our time was a fresh breeze in July

For you and I, you and I,

My first love, you were like a daisy

A daisy like you I’ll never find

Are your memories of me now hazy?

My love that never worked out in the end

We used to be best friends, but you probably won't call me that anymore

I swore to maintain our friendship instead

For you and I, for you and I 

You never loved me but I’ll always wonder what could’ve been in store

I’d run to you in the blink of an eye

For you and I, for you and I

I’ve loved you so much, no, I can’t lie

For you and I, you and I 

Our time was a fresh breeze in July

For you and I, you and I,

And then I’ll remember our times together

A daisy like you I’ll never find

The feelings I had for you, so tender

Sometimes the what ifs get to me

But oh, never mind, never mind

I wish I could set myself free

A daisy like you I might someday find

And I promise to take care of it like I did

Goodbye, my daisy, be alright.

To you, my daisy, goodbye I bid

Never mind, never mind,

——————       /ᐠ - ˕ -マ  

THE END.

[ppnuggie]

　　　　　　TRACKS x gn reader

　　　　『　tracks ,, gender neutral reader 』

　　-> reader n tracks are partners at a local police station . pt.1

　　— tw :: death ,, past trauma w/ reader ,, bullets + gunfire ,, mentions of a gang ,, human trafficking ,, black market

　　— tried to think of what would be somewhat upsetting for this little short series w/ tracks . reader is a cop and is working on a case together w/ tracks . really just putting some tracks content out there bc theres nothing of him and i like him a lot :( feel free to request anything of him or ask questions abt the past few series :3 ill be happy to explain anything rlly . this is set in the g1 timeline too . this is pretty much an introduction to the series <3

— feel free to reblog or give any comments / feedback ! <3 i enjoy reading them and seeing my work spread !

          " officer (l/n) ,, this is your new partner ." was what you heard from the chief ,, setting down your drink and looking up to meet the large mech in front of you . he was one of those cybertronians from space ,, here on earth for some reason . you didnt keep up with the news as of late ,, busy mourning your previous partner who had died in a recent crossfire between a gang that you two had been tracking for some weeks now . " hello ,, it's nice to meet you ,," you nodded to the brightly colored mech . " it's tracks ,, and it's nice to meet you as well officer ." he replied . his voice was different from what you've heard before in your life .

          silky and velvety ,, as though it would be from the most expensive of cloth around the world . it was that of one you would hear from those rich british men who came overseas and always had something to complaim about . yet ,, he didnt seem the type to do that .

          " well tracks ,, hope youre good with long term cases ." you snicker to yourself before taking a quick sip of your drink and opening the case file to the previously mentioned gang . " my previous partner and i had gotten somewhat close to arresting these punks ,, but things happened and they ended up escaping ." tracks got down to one knee ,, his arm resting over his leg as he peered over your shoulder . you saw the chief leave the room out of the corner of your eye ,, and resumed your focus to the file .

          " what gang is this ?" tracks asked ,, scanning over the words in the file . your hand came to your chin ,, explaining what you knew so far of the crooks . " they deal with human trafficking ,, kidnapping women who stray a little too far from the street lights to sell and trade on the black market . they've also been known to be the result of a few mass murders down town in some clubs ." you take another quick sip from your drink ,, flipping the pages . " last we saw them was in an alley of a bar ,, leaving in a limousine . so i'm guessing they've either got a hella lot of money ,, or they're good business partners with those who do ."

          tracks nodded ,, taking in the information better than you'd assume he would . maybe you were expecting a few disgusted looks or a gag ,, yet received nothing of the sort . " do you know their usual routine yet ?" he asked ,, helm turning your way . " kind of ,, though i'm not sure it really can count as a routine . the most active they are is on wednesday nights ,, usually in allies of bars or clubs . the closest i had gotten to getting a lead on them was two weeks ago ."

          " what happened ? im assuming you didnt figure out where they went ,," he tilted his helm to the side . " some others were behind me an' my partner ,, they shot at us a bit . one of their bullets grazed my partner ,, and ever since i havent been able to work on the case ." you casted your eyes to the side ,, remembering the night . adrenaline had pumped vigorously through your veins ,, trying your damnest to steer clear of the bullets flying past the vehicle . you did manage to steer clear of them ,, though at the cost of your partner getting severely injured . the images of it flooded your mind ,, squinting your eyes close and taking another sip of your drink .

           " sorry for your loss ." tracks murmured lowly ,, unsure of what to do . you only shook your head ,, brushing it off . " doesnt matter ,, just be sure youre ready later tonight for a bit of patrolling ." you waved your hand at him ,, leaving the case file with the mech so he can review it as much as needed .

[d8nielaa]

jason x reader?

reader is a famous singer and jason decides to surprise them at their concert. the concert he said he could not make due to doing the show everyday.

Authors Note: im just a chill girl writing chill fanfics for my chill anons

What are you doing here?!

Jason Schmidt x fem!reader

The arena was packed, the crowd buzzing with excitement. Lights pulsed in rhythm with the music as you stepped onto the stage. Your band was in sync, the opening notes of your latest hit vibrating through the speakers. It was one of those nights where everything felt like it was meant to be—the perfect set, the perfect vibe, and you were loving every second of it.

But you were also… distracted.

You hadn’t heard from Jason all day, and for some reason, that had been eating at you all through rehearsals. You knew his tour schedule was packed, but he'd promised he'd try to make it to this show. He’d even texted earlier in the week, saying he was hoping to find a way to surprise you.

You tried not to think about it too much. He was busy, and you knew how important his own shows were. But there was always that little voice in your head—What if?

As you finished up the first song, you spotted the large screen above the stage flicker to life. A brief wave of confusion swept through you, but you didn’t let it break your stride. Your fans were all focused on you, as they should be, but curiosity crept up on you.

Then, it happened.

The screen flashed to a backstage camera, showing a familiar face—you recognized him immediately.

It was Jason.

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a second, you almost forgot to keep singing. He was grinning like a damn fool, a little nervous, clearly holding a microphone in his hand. You froze mid-verse, the sound of the crowd beginning to fade into the background.

“Is this…?” You whispered into the mic, eyes locked on the screen.

Jason’s laugh echoed through the speakers, and then his voice boomed out into the venue.

“Surprise, babe.”

The crowd erupted into cheers, but you were so stunned you could barely process what was happening. Jason wasn’t just watching your concert—he was there, right there, about to walk onstage.

He was supposed to be on his own tour, performing in a different city, and yet—there he was. He'd pulled off the impossible. He’d kept his word.

“Jason, what the hell?” You laughed, barely able to contain your emotions. "You told me you couldn't make it!"

He stepped into the spotlight, waving to the fans who were all too excited to see him. A collective gasp of excitement rippled through the audience as Jason made his way toward the side of the stage, grinning like a kid in a candy store.

“I said I couldn’t perform,” he called out to the crowd, his voice crackling through the speakers. “But I never said I couldn’t surprise my favorite person in the world.”

A chuckle escaped you, and you shook your head in disbelief. “You’re insane.”

“I’m in love,” he shot back, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “And I couldn’t miss this night, not when it’s you up there. So, yeah, I’m insane.”

Your heart melted. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so you did a little bit of both, wiping away a tear as you caught your breath.

Jason had always been your biggest supporter, but this… this was next level. You had no idea how he’d managed to pull this off with his own tour schedule, but here he was, standing in front of you like some kind of dream.

“I’m sorry, y’all,” Jason said into the mic, addressing the crowd, who were now chanting his name. “I didn’t mean to interrupt the show. But I figured, if my amazing, talented, beautiful partner’s performing tonight, I should at least get a front-row seat.”

You laughed, the warmth of his words washing over you like sunshine. And then, as if a switch had been flipped, you stepped back from the mic stand, crossing the stage toward him.

The crowd roared with approval as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss. It wasn’t a long one, just enough to make the fans go wild, but it was enough to express all the love and gratitude you felt in that moment.

“Thank you for being here,” you whispered, your forehead resting against his.

Jason smiled softly, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. “You didn’t think I’d leave you hanging, did you?”

You shook your head. “I honestly thought you’d be too busy to come.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, his smirk never leaving his face. “I told you I’d try. And I always keep my promises.”

“You’re crazy,” you muttered, but your heart was full. “But I love you for it.”

“I know.” His voice was light, teasing, but there was a tenderness there too. “Now, are you gonna finish this concert, or do I need to take over for you?”

You laughed again, turning back to the microphone. “I think I’ll finish what I started, but maybe you can join me for a song or two later?”

Jason’s eyes lit up. “You know I’m always down for a duet.”

With a wink, he stepped back into the shadows, letting you take center stage once more. The crowd was still cheering, still electric from the surprise, and now you had the energy of Jason’s unexpected visit propelling you through the rest of the show.

Later, when the time was right, you and Jason would share the stage again. But for now, you took a deep breath, the sound of your fans’ voices surrounding you, knowing that tonight was a night you’d never forget.

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

Authors Note: Did you guys see the cast perform at the parade!! started geeking out to my mom-she's scared of me rn

[evorathesylvurr]

barks and bites and i need to share the hyperspecific lyrics in the angelacore playlist feel free to ignore

angelacore, which is a made up word i use a lot here, is my catchall word for anything that makes me think of Angela from Lobotomy Corporation/Library of Ruina.

do not expect in depth lyrical analysis on why a specific lyric makes me think of angela. this is me dropping a bunch of lyrics from 8 or 9 different songs and saying "see how this is the blue haired robot lady"

There are spoilers for both Lobotomy Corporation and Library of Ruina.

for context: the angelacore playlist was something i started after listening to Language of the Lost by RIProducer which has the following lyrics

I don't need forgiveness I just wanna talk and for you to listen

I thought that I was safe, now I'll never be the same Tossed aside for making a scene Do I know who I pretend to be? Of whom am I a copy? Yes it made me who I am, but I'll never understand Why it had to happen to me

and heres a mix of chorus lines

On my knees, I try to crawl Fire breaking in the walls Calling out for somebody, knowing I'll get no reply

If I'm a robot or a doll Am I anything at all? Maybe a thing like me doesn't yet deserve to know

and the final chorus

Not robot nor a doll I'm not anything at all I'm just an entity finding out the way to go But these fingers and these palms Full of love despite the scars They show indisputably I have so much more to grow Oh, I can change, I can evolve I can get up when I fall I'll live contentedly, I don't need a reason why Standing tall and standing strong I have found where I belong In the arms of somebody, there is no more need to cry

the second song on the playlist is Pathological Facade by Ghost which. yeah. (cw for medicines and medical shit if you listen to it)

A year ago, I was told that I would be a miracle Something theoretical, I guess It's kinda like a psychedelic lie, and yet it tries to be A line between the villains and the rest Nostalgia from a wall of barricaded faded memories Impartial to the carnal scenery Apparently, guarantees are only found peripherally Drinking to a total mystery

Stars always watching from afar, turning who you are In the end, it left me delicately scarred beyond pathological facade Don't you find it odd? Secretarial speaking Go on, praise me like a god

(Stars always watching from afar, turning who you are is not really important to why its in the angelacore playlist but i included it because otherwise it felt weird)

Bye-bye-bye goes the time, turning on a dime Gone without a reason or a rhyme So flip a coin, let's rejoin our family in the mirror world Where everybody's crooked by design

A year ago, I was told that I would be a miracle Something theoretical, I guess It's kinda like a psychedelic lie, and yet it tries to be A line between the villains and the rest The Tower's gonna fall, and you'll silently rebuild it all Knowing someone else would be appalled You're crying as you call out Halt and move on without someone that you think a lot about

then we have fucking Hymn for a Scarecrow by Tally Hall which I have ALWAYS considered this song angelacore.

im gonna try not to post the entire fucking song but just trust me the entire song is angelacore, here is the bit that is MORE angelacore than the rest

You hang around for a living Somewhere between all the land and the sky Being by never forgiving Nobody knows you and neither do I Birds may believe at a distance You wear a grin and keep perfectly still Driven away with persistence I wonder if they have wondered or will ever wonder Ever wonder

Mother Earth's love whispered to me (and it wasn't her fault) Real is a feeling and feeling is real All of you are flowing through me But you wouldn't know how to fathom or feel When the wind blows The wind knows The wind knows Oh, scarecrow Maybe the wind knows Whether you wonder Who's calling your name Shame how nobody knows you Only who wonders if you are to blame

then we have the uncanny x deathbody mashup (gore art tw).

Attuned inside, alluded, denied I feel my breath pressed into contact Undo the seal, the vague and unreal I shouldn't pry, a child sighs and hides away

hold my hand even if i cry i need to feel like i'm human through you hold on tight till the tears run dry the things i see are a dread to undo

All this time, I've waited My death was recreated So this would last forever Accepting agony Cruel indifference, lonely sufferance Returning to a time when I was still alive

and yeah while more of this falls into uncanny i feel like deathbody fits any character who falls into the "i am a robot and yet i do not wish to be" trope (for me, deathbody is a five pebbles song)

talked about this one in the last post about the angelacore playlist but this specific lyrical cover of Satori Maiden ~ 3rd Eye

Stop— Every moment trapped in someone else’s hell: No love is unconditional where there is fear to be found. If that’s the case, then it may be just as well To hide it all away underground. Stop— Though I look away, I’ve seen it all before: Another ugly truth lies behind these cold, brittle locks. Dig even deeper; there must be something more: A last hope at the bottom of the box?

had to stop from posting the entire lyrics to this but GAH its so angelacore. why is angela and satori the same character (they are objectively NOT)

now we have hello world by Louie Zong, which is the shortest little song on the list, but its there.

Hello, world Programmed to work and not to feel Not even sure that this is real Hello, world

next there's JubyPhonic's cover of Dramaturgy

Knew it already fine, misery inside At myself, I would laugh, fallen down behind But I don't know a thing, love or losing, see? So I threw to the side any human in me If I live a lie of shallow words and empty replies "Then what am I?" Hitting the walls of a stage that I couldn’t break Then it stuck to my head, gotta run away Playing out like a scene, posing every lead Near the end of the show, waiting in the wing, see? Run to the front stage, you're all actors anyway No one to watch, you're all part of the play

There’s no one inside me There's no one that's hiding Always been me, empty, a body but nobody here to see

We were young, never bound by a single sin Til before we could see, we were monsters in skin But even if I had tried to move on why can't I leave my past? "Considering it's you, better give up soon" "Cause no matter what you do, you will always lose" And then I was alone way before I knew Blocking every little thought that I couldn't sit through All they want now is safety from what's around Waiting for help but never learning how

The world that I locked out is nowhere to find The people who mocked me are gone from my sight Emotions and feelings are useless to keep The tears that had fallen were not mine to mine weep The kindness and warmth, I can't feel them at all The hands that are offered, I'm scared that I’ll fall The hole dug inside me can't hold any love Instead, you can see me break down from above Hey, remember when you saw that they were nearing their end? And you looked like you were laughing at the pain they were in But what did you see? Oh, really what could it be Well, take a breath 'cause you'll need it, so c'mon, saying

overall the song is very angelacore (because of the whole concept of dramaturgical theory

then we have Dizzy Paranoia Girl by VocaloKAT.

Expectations high from the start I’ll just mess it up “Congratulations, you fell apart” Fuck, I messed it up! They tell me I just need to grow up But I know that they think that I’m not enough Pirouette your view and you’ll see There’s no cure for burnt out and naive

Spinning all around, I think I spun out My fault by default Thoughts racing up and down, oh what to do now? Follow protocol But I hate this, I don’t wanna play ball I just wanna end this once and for all

Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Laugh through every day No matter what I do, nobody has a clue, life’s always been this way I hate hate hate hate this arbitrary game No matter what you heard, you’ll never hear the words nobody dares to say

Stab me with an IV But I know you won’t protect me And I can’t keep on ignoring When you make me wanna bleed Cynicism inbound Common sense nowhere to be found I’ll bottle up the thought that I'd be better off left underground

Think I’m at the end of a road traveled far too long And I keep screaming out the lyrics of this idiotic song Hate me just because I never wanna play along But I don’t wanna live a life where I live in the wrong

and finally, Left Behind Generation by VocaloKAT (s//cide tw according to vocaloid lyrics wiki)

Playing pretend, praying that one day this will end All of us already know the support’s for show, and they all let go Maybe one day, one day We won’t have to take our mistakes to the grave Give your heart and your soul, down to the bone, just to fight alone

So tell us How can we keep on living life? As every other person passes by We cross our hearts and hope to die another million times And if all of the effort was in vain If nothing was ever worth the pain We’ll try again Until the end

So tell me Why I should keep on living life While every other person passes by I’ll cross my heart and hope to die another million times And if all of the effort was in vain If nothing was ever worth the pain We'll sit and obey just to get thrown away

thats everything on the playlist right now. maybe one day I'll do a more in depth lyrical analysis on why these specific lyrics but. i am going to go insane if i do not post this soon.

[mars101]

Act 1: -> Scene 2: mama got busy

WRITTEN PART -> (0.8) -> more ss after

“soooo… now can you show us?”

the girls had arrived on the island and yin was now bringing the two for a walk along the beach, her hands held onto a diary with a sparkling cover.

“hold on yuna! we've got to at least be away from the docks, the only people who know is us.”

“wait, you didn't tell jay? it's his wedding too”

yin turns around to face the girls while walking backwards in front of them, the diary now clutched close to her chest as they're more farther away from people.

“okay well, i was going to tell him… tomorrow..”

the two scoff in disbelief at yin, “yeah you're going to tell him. when all three of your dads are walking down the damn isle with you.”

“KARINA!”

she throws her hands up in defense, “we know you, just make sure to try.” karina shares a look with yuna.

the bride opens the diary to a bookmarked page and turns it to the girls. “ive already read it once, maybe twice and.. you two can see for yourself.” yin hands over the book to yuna who's eyes start to sparkle in delight before she even started to read. “woah..”

“yin your mom got busy”

karina starts to flip the pages before she's even finished reading one, “twelve whole pages of them??” yuna looks at you with shock and amusment, “filled front to back too” yin shuts her eyes while covering her face, “in detail…”

“our poor baby~”

“i think the boat is still here, lets leave honey”

“i am NOT leaving with you two, you need to stop”

karina takes the diary from yuna and starts to read the first page, “your mom is a fun writer, “july 17th, what a night! last night-” Wait.. your wedding day is the day your mom got knocked up??” yin scratches her head while looking away from the two.

“okay well, i didn't know until i found it.. but it means something right, i thought it did when i saw the date.. which is why i invited all three of them…”

“you keep on acting before thinking.. ok well easy solution to this. first man in is your dad”

yin and yuna cringe at the words “please word that differently, and the first man in does not mean hes the dad, it just matters on which one reaches first”

“yeah so first one in is the dad which is.. lee hyunjae, hes your dad. im betting on it”

“hmmm no, thats not how that works.”

“how would you know yuna?”

“i asked a lot of questions when i was in health class”

yin shakes her head at the two, “whichever one is my dad is the one i feel a connection to, like once i see them i just will know.”

“as if, you find connections in everything.”

“yin, one of these men is your dad, but i just know you will end up feeling connected to all of them.”

yin links her arms with the two as she brings them along towards her mom's hotel on the island, the walk filled with exclamations as they continue to read from the diary.

the building wasn't anything too fancy, it was nice and cozy and brought warmth to the girls every time they visited yin.

“Here come the bridesmaids! Oh look at you three~ So beautiful!”

“mom! oh my god you scared me”

“y/n!”

Yuna and Karina rushed to hug Y/n as she appeared, they shove the diary in Yin's hands as she moves it to behind her back away from her view. The two ease into Y/n's embrace as her hands caress their heads, “Was the ride here alright? Yuna, i know you get seasick.” The two girls are trying to hide smirks and giggles as they look at Y/n after reading her diary.

“awe mama~ i did get a little sick, and it’s yin’s fault” yuna points at yin while clinging onto her mom, her action makes Y/n chuckle. “mom! she literally kept on texting me while i told her to stop. she’s a liar~” Yin pulls Yuna away from Y/n, and she's now caging the girl's arms in a hug, karina joins them, pulling both of them into a hug.

With a soft look in Y/n's eyes at the sight of the three she start to feel a bit sad inside, “The three of you have grown so well, even you Karina despite me meeting you only a few years ago. Oh, I can't believe my baby is getting married~” Her hands rest on Yin's cheeks to kiss her forehead, giggles escaping her lips. “The next ferry's about to arrive. I have to go pick up your aunts.”

synopsis = a day before her wedding day, Yin decides to find her father so he can walk her down the isle, the problem? There's three candidates: Lee Juyeon, Kim Younghoon, and Lee Hyunjae.

last/next

masterlist

taglist:

@boomhoon , @sanasour, @loonaluvz, @jaerisdiction, @cowsmicwu

[mynameis-a]

hiiiii ^^ can u tell me abt dogs n dog breeds?? im rllllyyyy curious

I WILL GLADLY TALK ABOUT DOGS!!! :D :D :D

every dog was bred for a specific job or purpose! and although most dogs only serve as companions nowadays, those work-related behaviors are still prevalent!

golden and labrador retrievers were used in duck hunting! they would run over to where the bird landed and carry it back over to their owner! they have whats called a “soft jaw” basically meaning that they can grab fragile things (for example: a duck) and not grab it hard enough to damage it in any way! this makes them great service dogs, because they can go and grab things for their owner if the person isn’t capable of getting it themselves!

its pretty obvious that most white, fluffy, double coated winter dogs were used to pull sleds around. but samoyeds actually had a different purpose! and that purpose being to keep people warm when its cold! because of how fluffy and warm they are, it was pretty common to just hold onto one for a but of warmth! combine that with how affectionate samoyeds are, and you’ve got yourself a very easy to cuddle dog! i personally think they would be good emotional support dogs for this exact reason, i would certainly feel better after hugging one of those guys!

most small dogs were initially bred for companionship. but did you know that weiner dogs were actually used for hunting? the dachshund was originally used for hunting badgers! (its actually in the name! dachs is german for badger and hund means dog!) their long body was actually useful for getting through the dens!

a lot of dogs that were hunting dogs are probably very surprising. you probably wouldnt expect frou-frou show dogs like standard poodles or afghan hounds to be hunters, but they were! (pretty much any dog that has the word hound, spaniel, or terrier in its name was bred for hunting.)

and you know borzois? those silly dogs with the long noses that can stick in a pringles can and those dorky eyes? hunters again! but its even more ridiculous than the high matinence dogs because these guys weren’t going after ducks or deer or badgers, no. they were killing WOLVES. eventually the wolf hunting stopped and their prior name “the russian wolfhound” went into a bit of retirement, but still! WOLVES!!

also i feel like, with the people this dog is often associated with, peoples perception of this breeds purpose might be a bit warped. the great pyrenees is a guard dog through and through! but because they kinda look like a sheepdog (specifically the marema sheepdog) and are commonly on farms, some people think that they’re herding dogs. but if you’ve heard about that one pyrenees that killed an entire pack of coyotes, i think its pretty obvious.

on the flip side, the german shepherd is not a guard dog! people always think its a dog thats gonna protect them with their life but nope! they’re sheepdogs just as much as a border collie is! if you want a good family dog to protect you (that wont get profiled as a “dangerous” breed) go with the pyrenees!

the vast majority of tiny dogs were meant to be companions and nothing more. which is a bit sad that those are the ones that so often get written off as mean or aggressive. as long as you treat them right, those “yappy anklebiters” will be the sweetest little things! chihuahuas are actually very affectionate dogs! you can carry them around and dress them up in little outfits! just make sure they’re comfortable like you would with any dog!

thats all i can think of right now, and i hope this was what you wanted! :D

[havingsomemorejohnlarks]

❝  well,  honestly i’ve never really had sex before and was kinda hoping you would teach me.  ❞ and [SUGGESTIVE] sound like they would be interesting to pair together

[ SUGGESTIVE ]  our muses are hanging out and end up on the topic of turn ons,  kinks,  and what they’re attracted to.

❝  well,  honestly i’ve never really had sex before and was kinda hoping you would teach me.  ❞

well im writing a fic cos its the only thing i know how to do! :’)

(so like i may put it on ao3) 

tbh this idea doesn’t really line up with Rook’s personal history, but I’m willing to put that aside for the sake of the fic 😌

I’m sorry if this is not what you were expecting, let me know if you want anything different! I put the options in the name chooser and it came out with john x rook so I’m going to be doing a fic with

John Seed x Male Deputy OC (Rook Diamante)

Warning: Sexual Tension, mention of transphobia and fetishization, strong language, mention of/talking about kinks (specifically, power play, piss kink, choking, gun play, knife play, degradation)

“Just please tell me the people there are nice...”

The sound of his Mom’s worried voice came crackling down the phone, as Rook pressed it against his ear and shoulder, clumsily shifting a few pans around on the kitchen counter.

There was no escaping the anxiety of Rook’s family, especially as he moved so far away. There was no hiding it either, even though Lillian was trying to keep her usual calming tones in the statement. Her son wasn’t an idiot though. Of course she was worried.

“Yeah, I guess so, Mom. Some of them are a little...” He hesitated, trying to find the right word, knowing the one he was about to say wasn’t what he meant. “... odd?”

He tried to keep the mocking “And I’m not going into high school, I’ve just moved to a different state.” inside his head because he knew how unhelpful that would be. And how stupid. The second one sounded much worse. Maybe.

“Odd? In what way? What have they said to you?” A deeper voice joined the conversation, one filled with even more anxiety, not even bothering to hide it.

“No one’s said anything, Dad. I meant... they’re just new. I’ve met plenty of nice people! Like... there’s this cute couple who run this business. They invited me to a barbecue this weekend so...”

A sigh of relief could barely be heard on the other side of the call. Although Rook knew they’d be unsettled with him being so far away from New York, it was still weird to witness both his parents like this after they’ve tried to remain strong for him all his life.

Rook felt it was his duty as a son to try and soothe them. He searched for other people in his mind who he had found nice and intriguing and not a threat to his personal safety, someone his parents could like and approve of.

“I’ve got this co-worker... he’s like an asshole but a loveable one, you know? Respects me but also calls me a dumbass when I’m being one. He’s cool.” Rook couldn’t help the little grin on his face, as he remembered the night out that Staci Pratt had invited him to, which resulted in him getting so drunk that he had sustained physical injuries. It was such a stress-reliever to finally drink with someone after moving to some random place in Montana.

A chuckle from his Dad and Rook knew that he had relaxed a bit. Someone who was on his sons side. Someone good.

“Any other new friends? Maybe... someone hot?”

He heard his Mom yell at his Dad playfully, while Rook’s face started to burn up suspiciously quickly. He had been avoiding thinking about “someone hot” or, more specifically, the hot man that he had seen around at that place, Aubrey's Diner, that Staci so loves.

It was embarrassing really. It was embarrassing how quickly he had agreed to go to the same diner again when Staci has suggested it. It was embarrassing how he craned his neck just a little every time, hoping to see the attractive man in the stylish outfits that made his tummy do flips. It was certainly embarrassing how he would go home disappointed when those blue eyes did not look his way, leaving him wanting and dreaming of some touch.

Staci had teasingly offered his services, but he shut up when Rook had hit him round the head.

A few more mentions of different people who had been nice to him and his parents had been soothed, still sad that he was not with them but happy for him all the same. His Dad gives him the usual cautions about people with bad intentions, reminds him to have fun (he can almost hear Mom’s eyes rolling) and Rook hangs up, promising he’ll be careful and also have fun, which is definitely a tough line to walk, if Rook’s completely honest.

But he says it anyway.

After hanging up, a dragged out sigh was let out into the air.

Usually, Rook was happy to talk to his parents, but giving someone reassurance for so long a conversation can catch up to you, especially if you’ve just finished a shift at work and are trying to make dinner.

He looked down at the pans he had gotten out in an attempt to make food. He stared for a while.

An irritated sigh and some tapping on his phone and Staci was on the other line.

“Don’t feel like making dinner, you wanna eat out tonight?”

An amused, sleepy grumble. “A ‘hello’ would be cool.”

“Shut up, yes or no?”

Staci laughed. “And you say I’m the dickhead.”

Rook made a deliberate, irritated sound.

Another laugh. “Okay, okay.”

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

After taking an absolute age to actually roll out of his bed, Staci finally texted to declare that, this time, despite all the other times being lies, he was actually leaving the house to get to the diner.

Meanwhile, seated at a table with a glass of cheap alcohol, Rook was having a difficult time convincing himself and Staci that he had absolutely no prior knowledge of his friends bad time management. He definitely didn't come to the diner a little early just to see if he could position himself as devastatingly handsome and completely alone and, therefore, in need of some company.

No, no. Why would he do that? It wasn't like there was any particular reason to do that. Definitely no particular man either.

Rook was just hoping Staci would go easy on the teasing when he got here because he sure as Hell wasn't fooling anybody.

It was pointless to come early anyway - Rook only sat there staring at the door, eyes becoming glittered with hope when he saw it open.

Staci got there before the man in the expensive clothes could.

"You know, you're not subtle."

Rook knew he couldn't fake it, so he didn't even try. "I know. It's stupid."

Staci picked up on the hint of embarrassment and disappointment. "It's not. John Seed is pretty hot, classically handsome, I suppose.”

Rook’s head snapped up, eyes now staring at his friend. “What? You know him?”

Staci nodded, glancing over the menu, even though he knew exactly what he was getting.

Rook’s mouth was slightly open. “And you didn’t think to tell me that?!”

The other man couldn’t stop the grin creeping on him. “I figured you would ask, if you wanted to know who he was.”

Rook didn’t stop staring.

“Also, I don’t really know him, know him. I just know of him, like everyone else does. I think only a select few actually know him, you know, he’s that type.”

Rook’s stare turned into a curious peer. “What type?”

Staci breathed out through his nose, a touch uncomfortable. “Well... mysterious, I guess... suspicious.”

Rook waited for Staci to give his order to the waiter who had come round, trying to understand what his friend was getting at.

Staci saw the look on Rook’s face and sighed. “Look, I was gonna tell you eventually anyway but... might as well be now.”

The expression on his face turned serious and Rook found himself remembering his Dad’s cautions. It looked like Staci was having a tough time.

“He might be dangerous, ok? He belongs to that... group that we get calls about. You know, the culty one.”

Right. Rook had heard about this. Whitehorse, his new boss, had pulled him aside while Pratt and Hudson responded to a call, whispering to him about being safe and something about ‘having your back’.

He tried to push down the rising tide of disappointment. He swallowed. And found himself doing something he didn’t think he’d ever actually do.

“Do you think... I should leave it alone then?”

Staci pulled an over-exaggerated face. “Dude, do whatever you want. Just don’t join the creepy groupies his brother has.”

Rook didn’t know how to feel about that. He couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t still intrigued by this John guy. But he knew how much worth a good looking, mysterious man in nice clothes had.

None. At all. He knew that from experience.

“I might... just leave it.”

That was the best decision to be made. Something excitable in him died, while the disappointment settled in. But he knew if he started something with this guy, it would get worse.

Cut it off at the root as soon as possible.

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

Perhaps going to the diner the night before a shift was a bad decision because both Staci and Rook woke up on the latter mans living room floor with banging headaches.

Rook was the first to wake and stumble to the bathroom, extremely aware that he wanted to throw up but couldn’t. This went on for about twenty minutes before the bathroom was raided by Staci, who lovingly shoved his friend out of the way to actually throw up.

While his friend was busy vomiting violently into the toilet, Rook crawled out of the room and picked up his phone. Only a few minutes until they were due to clock in for work.

Groaning, he reluctantly dialled the Sherriff’s number.

“Hey, Sherriff. Would you be mad if me and Staci called in sick today?”

“You two get your asses up to this station right now or there’ll be hell to pay.”

How did he know?

“We... really shouldn’t be driving, Sir.”

“Then walk.”

Whitehorse hung up.

Shit, he’s pissed off.

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

It took so long for them to get out the door, let alone walk all the way to the police station. Staci didn’t even have his uniform, but he insisted that there would be a spare one at the station.

Rook had to stumble about getting ready, before getting the bright idea to shove some water and food in his bag, to cure their hangovers.

Never in his life had Rook shown up to work hungover. It seemed to be something of a pastime for Staci, however.

They arrived to their place of work in a cold sweat, panting and, in Staci’s case, with a little vomit round the mouth. He couldn’t keep it in for the whole walk.

Whitehorse was standing outside the door, looking like the prime example of an angry boss - arms crossed, brows furrowed and a hard stare.

Rook tried to straighten up a little more, trying to seem apologetic and professional, despite the obvious unprofessionalism here. Staci didn’t even bother, clinging on to his friend for dear life, not looking anywhere but the floor as he groaned.

They walked gradually up the steps, slowly past Whitehorse, who moved out the way, still glaring. Rook swallowed and rasped, “It won’t happen again, Sherriff.”

“Clean him up and get in my office in five minutes. Both of you.”

It didn’t take too long to guide Staci to the station’s bathroom to throw up again. Rook had to wipe his mouth and give him water.

“I’m not getting you changed, Pratt.”

Staci chuckled behind the roughness of his hangover.

“Feeling any better yet?”

Staci waved an arm at him, breathing heavily on the floor. “Much.”

Rook raised an eyebrow, not believing him even a little.

They got to the office in seven minutes, but Whitehorse didn’t give a shit by then. He sat in his chair, not saying a word, while the two young men stood on the other side of the desk. Rook shuffled awkwardly from one foot to the next, while Staci stood casually, weight leant on one foot, still looking ill.

“I just can’t believe you two.”

Silence filled the room around his words.

“How could you be so immature? You realise I could fire you, right? The only reason I refuse to is because we have so little staff, so much so that I told you to get your stupid faces down here even though I knew you would be useless today.”

“And also cos you love us, Sherriff.”

Rook kicked Staci so hard he almost fell over, and Whitehorse spun around in his chair, facing away from them, under the guise of being so disgusted by their behaviour, he had to look away.

In reality, he was trying to hide the smirk that tried to creep on his face.

“You do realise the Seeds are planning to come up here, yes?”

Both of them felt their hangovers cure in a split second. Or did they worsen?

“Wait, the culty ones?” Staci asked, as tactful as ever. Rook’s eyes widened to the size of small moons.

“Yes, the god-damn culty ones, Pratt! And you two boneheads decided to-”

He was cut off by the sound of a car pulling up to the station. The old man swiftly got up out of his seat and peered through the blinds, confirming his suspicions.

“Look. They’re here. I’ll punish your sorry asses later. Just get out there and stop looking like you drank the entire contents of the Spread Eagle.”

Staci had to pipe up again. “Actually, Sir, it was Aubrey's Dine-”

Whitehorse pushed them both towards the door, muttering something that sounded like “Get the fuck out, son.”

They hauled ass to their desks, flopping gratefully into their chairs, while Nancy shook her disapproving head at them the whole way.

As the door to the station opened, Rook chucked cold already-cooked hash brown leftovers over to Staci, who mouthed “Thank you!”, pretending to cry with relief.

Sure enough, John Seed walked through the door.

Rook’s head snapped down quickly, a burning sensation already coming up to his cheeks. He threw a bottle of water at his friend, aggressively, when he quietly wolf-whistled.

Rook hoped to Hell that John didn’t notice.

Unlucky for Rook. John always noticed as much as possible.

Before their eyes could meet, Whitehorse came out of his office, looking relaxed and composed. Rook had to give him credit - he could hardly tell he’d been seething literally just 30 seconds ago.

“Hey there, Mr. Seed.” Like the southern gentleman he was, he offered his hand, and John, being a master of politeness, took it immediately, a fake and gleaming smile already on his face.

“Hello there, Sherriff. I hope you weren’t waiting for me too long.”

“No, no, you’re just on time, Sir. Would you like to talk in my office?”

“I wish he was as polite as that a few minutes ago,” muttered Staci, around a mouthful of hash brown.

Rook tried not to giggle and focused on the pile of paperwork ready to be processed on his desk.

They didn’t come out of that office for a while, and the atmosphere turned from light and humorous to a little ominous. Rook glanced over to his friend, who looked surprisingly solemn, his light nature faded a little.

Rook would never admit that this scared him a little. Staci wasn’t fucking about when he said that the cult situation was serious, because he was clearly worried.

This new, worrying tension did not break after John finally stepped out of the office, a triumphant and slightly almost smug smile all over his face (Rook thought it looked vaguely vicious, and his attraction to this man somehow grew and withered at the same time), with Whitehorse following, a grim look of reluctant acceptance attached to him.

It was deathly silent as the three others in the room pretended to not be interested and got on with their work.

“May I use your bathroom before I go?” John enquired, ever-so-politely.

Rook was already giving Staci a death glare before he could even twist his head and see the suggestive smirk on his friends face.

Whitehorse threw him a tight smile. “Of course... Rookie, show him where it is, will ya?”

Staci didn’t even have the chance to do anything sexual with his face, because Rook had already stuffed another cold hash brown into his face, to stop anything unprofessional in the workplace.

He didn’t miss the quiet fake-moan around the god damn hash brown though, and he had to whack Staci round the head to shut him the hell up. John Seed witnessed this, much to the dismay of Rook.

Awkwardly, he led the handsome man away from the scene and the silence crept on them both - it made Rook a little embarrassed but John seemed just fine.

After a nervous gesture to the bathroom door, he stood there awkwardly, while John looked closely, head tilted slightly.

Rook stared down at the ground, not looking up until John realised he wasn’t going to make eye contact with him.

“I recognise you, don’t I?”

Rook slowly moved his eyes up, accidentally (or not?) letting them graze over John’s body as he finally met his eyes.

Man, those eyes. Those blue eyes.

Rook smiled an awkward smile, but felt a little fluttery feeling inside.

He recognises me. A thrill went through him.

“Well, I’ve seen you around Aubrey's Diner a few times... I didn’t realise you saw me.”

John flashed a smile - not a fake one, like before, but a genuine amusement at the cute little look on Rook’s face.

“Oh, I saw you, Mr...?”

“Rook. Rook Diamante.”

John tilted his head up slightly, a small smile playing upon his lips. “Hmm, Rook Diamante...” He said the words as if he were testing them out on his tongue, and finding he liked them.

Rook couldn’t help but grin a little at that sight. “And you’re John Seed, yeah?”

The older man nodded, watching Rook carefully.

Rook could guess what he was searching for.

And his mouth opened before he could stop himself.

“You’re apart of your brothers... group or something, right?”

John laughed. “Yes, I am apart of Eden’s Gate.”

Rook nodded, with a quiet “ahh”.

John couldn’t help the widening of his smile and the slow, long look that pulled down Rook’s body. John let his gaze linger on the curve of the other mans ass and thighs. An image of John touching these parts of him flashed through his mind and left his heart racing and skin flushing slightly.

Rook didn’t miss this. He felt a heat rise up in him and for a moment, Staci’s suggestive comments running through his mind, and, for a second, he felt the crazy urge to shove John into the bathroom stall and grind up on him.

John stepped a little closer, feeling the tension between them. “This may be a bit unprofessional but... would you like to go to Aubrey’s Diner together sometime?”

Rook thought he might take flight in excitement. It showed in his voice, as he flustered, in a breathy voice, “Y-yeah! That... I’d like that a lot, actually.”

John grinned at the cuteness. “Good. Here.” He produced a little card from his jacket pocket, which Rook took, curiously.

It had ‘John Seed’ printed on it, with a phone number.

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

“This was such a bad idea.”

“No, it isn’t, dumbass!” Staci rolled his eyes, rummaging through Rook’s old box of nail varnish. Rook had already taken out some black nail varnish out and painted a few hours ago.

Staci took out a dark, dark red colour and hummed in appreciation. As he started casually painting his perfect nails, Rook tried to get out of his third outfit choice of the night.

Staci frowned at him. “Why are you taking off the jeans? They show off your ass. Trust me, he’d like that.”

Rook growled and threw them across the room in frustration. He stood there in his dark red underwear, similar to the colour Staci was putting on his nails. “How the fuck do I know what he likes? I don’t even know him.”

Staci didn’t look up. “Isn’t that the point of tonight? Getting to know him or some shit?”

Rook groaned. “I don’t even fucking know! We didn’t clarify... maybe he...” Rook swallowed down disappointment. “... maybe he just wants to be friends.”

Staci did look up then. “Are you being serious? How much of a dumbass are you?!”

Rook put his hands on his hips, his eyebrows raised, bottom lip between his teeth.

“What are you looking at me like that for? Did you even see the look he gave you when he left the station? You don’t look at friends like that.”

Rook stopped the sass and starting biting his black nails. Staci rolled his eyes again and got up. He smacked Rook’s hands away from his mouth, and reviewed the outfits at hand.

There was silence for a moment as Staci worked his magic and worked out the outfit like it was a puzzle.

“Your favourite colour is red, right?”

Rook nodded.

“Hmm. Good. Dark red is your colour. Mix it with black. Put on them black jeans again. They’re your colour and they make you look hot.”

Rook did what was instructed, making no noise in argument. While he put them on, Staci ruffled through a few t-shirts and shirts in Rook’s drawer, making thinking noises.

He chose a few options. He held a dark blue t-shirt in one hand and a dark red shirt with buttons in the other. “This is the part where you have to choose.”

Rook pouted. “Why can’t I wear my slutty black and red one?”

Staci flicked his forehead. “BECAUSE.”

There wasn’t much more of an explanation than that.

When Rook had gotten the red shirt on him, they both argued about what piercings to put in. Eventually, they decided on plain rings up the side of his ear, but none on his ear lobe, as Staci declared it “too much”. The eyebrow bar was included, although Staci um-ed and ah-ed over this for a while.

By the time Staci had finished his work, Rook’s tummy felt the dormant notion of anxiety and butterflies. He took a deep breath in and tried to apply logic to the situation, just as his parents taught him.

This wasn’t going to kill him. The worst that could happen is John rejecting him.

He’s in a cult. He might try and indoctrinate you.

Rook was horrified by the stirring from below he felt at that thought.

Staci practically pushed him out of the building, squeezing out after him. “Don’t think so much, just go fuck him.”

Rook nodded.

“And tell me if he kills you.”

Rook whacked him.

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

John has the sense not to arrive in one of the white Eden’s Gate trucks, instead pulling up to Aubrey’s Diner in a sleek car that looked too fancy for the small county.

Rook raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against the wall of the building, feeling excited.

I’ve got a rich boy on my hands, he thought, amused.

John gracefully slipped out of the car and locked it with a simple press of his keys, not looking away from Rook.

John was captured by the way Rook appeared to be so casual but dressed like he cared. He let himself wonder what the other man might look like with those jeans and that red shirt off of him, a little smirk pleasantly displayed on his face, obviously intended for Rook to pick up on it.

Rook grinned, pushing himself off of the wall and stepping closer, letting himself take in the pretty man right in front of him.

Suits were so John’s look, Rook couldn’t even handle it.

The older man flashed a small smile, and Rook smiled back at him.

“Shall we go in, Mr. Diamante?” John asked, teasingly.

Rook laughed a little. “You can call me Rook, Mr. Seed.”

John chuckled and slipped a hand on to Rook’s arm, making him shiver. Rook was a confident enough guy but this man was absolutely oozing it - he wondered what it might be like to have John in the bedroom.

Chill out, he only put his hand on your arm.

They walked in, finding a seat easily. Rook looked at the drink menu and offered one to John.

He smiled, something a little off about it. “I’m afraid I don’t drink.”

Rook could sense a backstory but would never ask on the first date. Date?

“Oh, I see. Would you prefer me not to as well?”

John hesitated and it was all Rook needed to confirm it.

Before John could respond and explain that he didn’t want to be responsible for Rook if he got too drunk to walk or respond, the waiter came over, giving John Seed a dirty look.

The locals don’t like him.

“I’ll have a milkshake please,” Rook requested, with a smile.

The waiter gave him a look that said “Are you five?” but Rook didn’t give a shit. If he couldn’t drink, he’d focus on something else addictive. Sugar.

John looked pleasantly surprised and felt just as grateful. After he ordered a coke with ice, the waiter scribbling it down reluctantly, he turned to Rook.

“You didn’t have to-”

“No way,” he said, simply, “I could tell you would get uncomfortable. And you’re much more important than alcohol.”

John smirked at the implications and Rook’s eyes widened.

“I just mean-! I meant that you deserve respect more than some drink. I came to see you, not the drinks, after all...” Rook tried to fight off the blushing.

John chuckled. “It’s ok, Rook. Thank you, I appreciate your hospitality.”

Rook lets out a laugh through his nose and shakes his head. “It’s only basic respect, dude.”

John laughed. “That’s quite hard to come by nowadays.”

Rook scoffed. “Oh, trust me, I’m aware!”

The next hour was filled with discussion about the horrendous dates that they had both been on. Rook explained about the disrespect and fetishization for being Mexican and trans, which John took in his stride. John, in turn, described being body shamed and being pursued as a sugar daddy, which made Rook shake his head.

“So...” Rook started slightly hesitant, “You really don’t mind about the whole trans thing?”

It was so important to check.

John smiled gently and slid his hand over to Rook’s, placing it over his comfortingly. “I really don’t mind. If it’s ok for me to mention... I have been with transgender people before. I try to learn everything I’m supposed to, to make them comfortable, you understand?”

Rook grinned back. “Look’s like I picked the right guy to be attracted to then.”

John huffed out a laugh and leaned forward, teasingly. “You chose to be attracted to me, did you?”

Rook chuckled, a hint of seductiveness in his voice, despite the cheesiness of his next statement. “Oh, I’d say it was more like it chose me. You’re just something, you know?”

John had to fight the childish blush that came up to his cheeks. “Why, thank you, Rook Diamante.”

Rook shivered and felt something twist pleasantly in his lower belly.

“And I promise you, I’m not one of those people who actively seek transgender people... what are they called? I’m sure they had a name...”

“Chasers.” Rook supplied, drinking through his straw.

“Right.” John nodded. “I don’t understand that. You’re not a piece of meat, you’re a person. While you’re certainly...” he blushed, looking away from Rook’s smirk, ”attractive... you don’t deserve that kind of creepiness.”

Rook chuckled and nodded. “Agreed. I understand having some kind of fetish or kink, don’t get me wrong...” he flicked his eyes up at John, smirking slightly, “but if it’s something like that, it gets creepy as fuck.”

John laughed. “Of course. And... how much do you understand having some kind of fetish or kink...?” The question was part teasing, part hopeful, and Rook was ready to get into it.

“What an inappropriate question, Mr. Seed!” He took another slurp of milkshake. “I do understand having kinks, yeah. What about you?” 

He looked to John, curious to see what he says.

If he says he doesn’t have any, that man is a liar. Kink is written all over him.

John laughed, almost like he’d been caught out, with Rook giving him a “I know who you are” look.

“Yes, I have to say I do as well.”

Rook grinned and leaned forward. “Alright, man, pull out the list.”

John laughed hard, while Rook couldn’t help but giggle. His laughter was kind of contagious.

John stopped laughing and drank from his glass, still slightly chuckling around it. “Ok, I’ll indulge you. How about you suggest one and I’ll tell you which ones I... understand.”

Still grinning, Rook immediately pulled the first one he could think of. “Power play.”

“Yes.”

Rook called it. “Are you usually the submissive one or the dominant one?”

Gotta be a Dom right?

John smiled. “Well, I enjoy being either but... I gotta say, being a submissive is my preference.”

Wow, I was wrong. My fault for presuming, I guess.

John chuckled at the badly-hidden surprise on Rook’s face. “What about you, my handsome companion?”

Rook blushed and grinned. “Similar to you - I think I’d like being either, but...” He looked up right into John’s eyes. “I definitely would prefer being the Dominant one.”

John’s eyes flushed with something heated and his leg moved almost independently from him, to brush up firmly against Rook’s. Rook felt the urge to drag him into the bathroom again.

He liked that. Oh my God, he liked that.

John continued to rub his leg against Rook’s inner thigh, slightly but ever-so-noticeable. 

“Continue.” he whispered, gazing at Rook.

The younger man swallowed and tried to breathe naturally. “Ok. Choking?”

“Yes.”

Rook chuckled, breathlessly. “That was quick.”

An image of his hand around John’s throat popped into his head and his eyes flicked from his hand to John’s neck, trying to suss out whether or not it would be a perfect fit.

Only one way to find out...

Rook shook his head to snap out of it and tried to keep up the conversation. “Me too.”

John looked at him expectantly.

“Piss?” Rook blurted out, without thinking.

John couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “Sort of? I can be into the power part of it, but it’s only really something I do if the person I’m with is particularly hot and particularly into it. What about you, Rook?”

Rook shook his head. “I don’t think so. It’s not something I would like to try.”

John nodded, smiling slightly. He was sensing a pattern in Rook’s speech, the way in which he was referring to these interests of theirs.

“Ok, something extreme. Knife and gun play?”

John breathed in through his nose, leaning back to take in the question, but not taking his leg away from Rook’s. “Now that’s quite a prompt.”

Rook laughed and looked into his second milkshake - banana, this time, instead of strawberry. Chocolate was next. “I’m sorry if that was too much.”

John chuckled, slowly and seductively. “No, no, darling.” Rook felt that feeling in his belly again. “In fact, that is exactly my speed.”

Rook watched him. “So? You... understand it, right?”

John nodded. “Oh yes, I definitely understand it.”

“I think I’d like to try them. It kind of tracks that I would like it.” He laughed awkwardly.

John leaned in, ready to ask the question he wanted to. “You don’t have to answer but it might be important if you feel like...” He pushed his knee further up Rook’s thigh, “taking this a little further.”

Rook leaned in too, somehow not scared.

“Are you a virgin, Rook? Or have you simply not done anything kink related?”

Rook blushed very hard. He knew this would have to come up at some point, and he wasn’t embarrassed, not really. But he was still a touch nervous, even if he didn’t think John would mind.

“Well, honestly, I’ve never really had sex before and was kinda hoping you would teach me.” It was cheeky and playful but, underneath, Rook was hoping John would take it lightly.

John chuckled, and placed his hand on Rook’s thigh too. “Oh, you handsome man, I think I would adore teaching you.”

Rook flushed with something lustful. “My place or yours?”

John laughed, almost with shock. “You’re eager, aren’t you?”

The younger man leaned closer and placed his hand on John’s chin, tilting it up slightly. “Only for you, pretty boy.”

John felt that the heat had built up too much for him to not say the next words. “Are you ok with your place?”

“Yes.”

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

John drove them to Rook’s place, in warm silence that promised something hot as soon as they got inside somewhere with a bed or any other surface. Every so often, Rook would give directions and, every so often, John would turn to Rook quickly and give him a look that promised the best sex of his life.

When they pulled in to Rook’s place, there was a relaxed but hurried atmosphere. Rook wrapped an arm around John’s waist, and guided him to the door.

John grinned when Rook tried to open the door with his key, purposely placing himself behind him, pressed up against him, hands on Rook’s hips. The younger man looked back for a moment and glared playfully and John laughed.

“You’d better behave, pretty boy.”

John breathed in hard, taken aback but now a little hard at the idea of this man giving him a punishment for his bad behaviour. 

He leaned in to whisper in Rook's ear, breath tickling his skin. "You're very much mistaken if you think I'm the type to behave."

Rook whipped round very quickly, the door now open, and swiftly drew John's head close to his. As Rook bit the soft skin of John's earlobe, he heard John's breathing become more erratic.

"And you are severely mistaken if you think I'd let that slide."

And he pulled John inside.

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

Ok so that was that!

If you want the actual sex scene, I might post it on my ao3 for ya to read. I'm going to post this one too.

I hope that was okay, if you feel something was done wrong, let me know! :)

[rigelmejo]

Some updates 9/4/2024:

I am through 2723 sentences in glossika japanese, which is still A1 (in the app). In reality I think the A1-B2 categories glossika is using must not match the actual kind of level's vocab or grammar. I predict A2 will go to arond the 5000 sentences mark, and the last 1000-2000 sentences in the glossika japanese collection will be randomly categorized B level. Supposedly glossika japanese teaches 5000 unique words, I hope that's true by the end. So far the A1 sentences Ive gone through (2700s lol) have a lot of words just used multiple ways or in multiple conjugations, and if iku counts as like 10+ words just for each conjugation... that could mean significantly less unique words are actually taught. If glossika japanese doesnt at least teach over 3000 unique words (and all verbs etc counted as 1 word each even if various forms are in sentences), then its gonna be beyond a disappointment. Its fairly doable to find free japanese learning resources that teach around 2000-3000 words. The reason Im slogging through glossika is because it gives the promise of potentially MORE WORDS TO LEARN than the free stuff i could find. Like... japaneseaudiolessons.com, a free site with great lessons, teaches at least 2000 words (i calculated it once ;-; if needed ill go figure it out again) if the grammar notes are included. So if glossika turns out barely more than that, ill be pretty fucking beyond annoyed.

In other news, japanese progress? Ahahahhaa

Well really. I've mostly just been focusing on writing stuff lately, so I haven't studied much. But I've noticed some things in passing I find kind of fun?

I can now translate (roughly) 70% of the lyrics of the Yakuza games karaoke songs in passing as a friend plays them. I can also translate (roughly) about 50% of what people are saying in-game. I assume this means if I tried to play Ishin in japanese again, this time I might feel less drained than the first time I tried. (The first time I tried, I understood enough to play the game and roughly guess what was going on, but it took a ton of focus and I felt burned out quick).

Chinese progress? Im in a weird holding pattern where I just dont have time in my schedule to dedicate enough to it to make good progress for a while. I definitely refreshed my memory over the summer, and I can listen to audiobooks now! Which is a huge personal goal I had. But the comprehension of audiobook plots goes between "can follow almost all details" to "roughly can guess where the scene is and actions taken and understood some key dialogue details". Even if I relisten to the same chapter of an audiobook just on different weeks. My comprehension of audio details varies WILDLY right now. Im not sure if its because my vocab recognition is just rusty until used, then rusty again quickly after a break (aka i recall meaning slower than the audio plays). Or if its because listening is just hard. Since i am comprehending something when i listen, ive just chosen to keep listening to audiobooks. I do think a good round of REVIEWING vocabulary (like relistening to chinese spoonfed anki audio files) would help. Or just listening to an audiobook for HOURS a day would probably help. But again, im focusing on writing lately so i just havent carved out dedicated time for chinese listening that id like to be doing eventually.

Reading chinese goes a bit differently. I am rusty with reading too, but it comes back within a few dozen minutes. My recognition of hanzi is sort of like "rusty when not recalled" but once im reading for a few minutes it goes back to an easy to flip to part of my brain and stuff i already know. When trying to read japanese in any context, my brain still jumps right to hanzi chinese pronunciations before i can recall any japanese words. When i see a chinese webpage or subtitles im lost for a little while, then things click and its about as easy as it was last time i was reading a lot. I seem to remember how to read chinese fairly well, and rustiness wears off and goes back to Quick Reading comprehension (which quick for me is still like 150 characters per minute but u get the idea) fairly quickly. Its even a little better than my french reading skill... which does degrade a little over time, and i compensate with cognates usually until ive read for a few hours and the french reading skill returns. Whereas my chinese reading skill seems to come back within an hour usually of trying to read.

[dollgxtz]

His Watchful Eye

Word Count: 8.9k

Tags: yandere!sylus, sylus x fem!reader, noncon, dubcon, drugging, kidnapping, tw vomit, sharp objects, forced breeding, forced pregnancy, drugged reader, stalking, pet names like kitten, sweetie, ownership, Xavier appears for a bit

AN: Hi all! Im SOO excited to be writing this. Its refreshing to add to the lack of yandere fics for the boys! I’m unsure if I will make this multi chaptered but if there’s enough demand I won’t want to disappoint! PLEASE read the tags. This is not for everyone, and if your sensitive to the topics that show up then I would advise skipping this story because I did not hold back and it only gets worse from here! (*^ ‿ <*)♡

Edit: If you're coming back to reread this and notice chapter one is different, no you aren't crazy! Its been completely rewritten with more dialogue and more scenes. Its also longer! Enjoy :)

"Good girl, keep chewing. Don't bite your tongue" All you could mutter was a moan, unable to think straight in your drug hazed state. You managed to swallow. All you felt was warm heat radiating off of slightly pale flesh. You blushed and planted your face in his neck. Sylus put the spoon down, amused by your affection. Getting up from the sofa in the room, he laid you down on his bed. He began unbuckling his belt.

Read part 2, pt 3

You press your finger to the scanner outside your apartment door, the faint blue glow lighting up your fingerprint as it recognizes you. With a soft click, the lock disengages. A wide grin spreads across your face as you step inside, the day replaying in your head. Xavier. Xavier, of all people. You can hardly believe it. His sudden confession still rings in your ears, sending an excited shiver down your spine.

You hadn’t expected it at all. The night had started so normally. Xavier had asked you to accompany him on a late night food run, the air between you light and filled with that easy camaraderie you’d always shared. And then, without warning, he’d looked at you, really looked at you, and the words had tumbled out, almost like he couldn’t hold them back anymore.

“I like you,” he’d said, his voice steady but his eyes betraying a hint of nervousness. “I…I think I have for a while now. And I just…I thought you should know. I don't want to pretend to be just your friend anymore.”

For a moment, you’d been too stunned to respond, your brain short-circuiting as you tried to process what he’d just said. Xavier, the man who’d haunted your thoughts ever since you had joined UNICORNS, who you’d convinced yourself could never see you as more than a friend, had just confessed he liked you. It had felt surreal, like something out of a dream.

When you’d finally found your voice, you’d stammered out some kind of nervous response, your cheeks burning as you tried to keep your composure. But he’d just smiled, that small grin that always made your heart skip a beat, and you’d known he understood. The rest of the night had passed in a blur, his confession playing over and over in your mind.

His ash-blond hair, always well maintained, and those piercing blue eyes that always seemed to look straight through you—they’d haunted your thoughts for so long. And now, finally, after so much time agonizing over whether he felt the same, he’d just come out and said it. He likes me too.

You close the door behind you, leaning against it for a moment as your heart does a little flip. You want to scream, to laugh, to dance around your apartment. But first things first. You untie your shoes, fumbling slightly as you’re distracted by the memory of his smile, that faint blush on his cheeks when he spoke. But just as you’re about to pull the second shoe off, a sound stops you cold. A creak, faint but unmistakable, comes from somewhere in the corner of your apartment.

Your breath catches. You straighten up slowly, heart already starting to pound. It’s nothing. Probably just the building settling, you tell yourself. Don’t be paranoid. You take a deep breath and focus on your shoes again, setting them neatly by the door. But the moment you step into the kitchen, the unease creeps back in. The silence feels too heavy, pressing against your ears.

You grab a glass from the cabinet, pouring juice into it with trembling hands. The cool liquid against your lips does little to soothe your nerves. You take another sip, trying to shake off the tension, but then you hear it. Shuffling. Faint, deliberate, coming from your bedroom. This time, there’s no mistaking it.

The glass nearly slips from your hand as your body goes rigid. Your mind races. Someone’s in the apartment. Someone’s in the apartment. The thought hits you like ice water. Adrenaline surges through your veins, and you feel every beat of your heart like a drum against your ribs.

You glance around, eyes darting to the couch. You know what’s there. Your hand dips under the cushions, fingers wrapping around the cold, solid grip of your pistol. It’s not the first time you’ve been on edge living alone, but it’s the first time it’s felt like more than paranoia.

Gun in hand, you move silently toward the bedroom, each step deliberate, your breaths shallow. Don’t panic, you tell yourself. If there’s someone there, you’re ready. But no amount of mental preparation can stop the trembling in your legs as you approach the slightly ajar bedroom door. You push it open slowly, every nerve screaming, every muscle taut. With one swift movement, you dart into the room, gun raised, finger hovering over the trigger.

Nothing.

The room is empty. The bed, the corners, the shadows—all unoccupied. Only your large collection of plushies stare back at you. You lower the gun slightly, a nervous laugh bubbling up in your throat. God, you’re such an idiot. Scaring yourself over nothing.

Still, you can’t shake the feeling of being watched. You check the closet, under the bed. Nothing. Your shoulders relax a fraction. Okay. Fine. False alarm. You reach for your phone, instinctively wanting to text Xavier. But your hand comes up empty. Right. Left it in the kitchen.

You sigh and head back toward the kitchen, rolling your eyes at yourself. Paranoid. Just paranoid. But before you make it two steps out of the bedroom, arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you off your feet.

You scream, thrashing wildly, but the grip on you is unyielding. Panic floods every corner of your mind as you manage to kick backward, your heel connecting with a solid shin. A grunt of pain follows, and the arms loosen just enough for you to twist partially around, only to see another figure—a second assailant—moving toward you.

“Idiot! Boss said gently! Gently!” one of them hisses, his voice muffled and harsh.

“She’s fighting too much for gentle!” the other snaps. You’re screaming now, kicking and clawing, desperate to get free. But they’re too strong, their weight pressing down on you as you’re forced to the ground. You can barely breathe, the pressure on your chest crushing.

Your vision blurs as tears sting your eyes. Desperation claws at your throat. No. This can’t be happening. Fight. Keep fighting. But the second figure pulls something from his pocket, a white cloth, and your stomach drops. You know what’s coming.

“Now, now, miss,” he says, his voice mockingly soothing. “No need to make this harder than it has to be. This will all be over soon.”

You twist your head, trying to bite, to scream, anything to stop him. But the cloth is pressed over your mouth and nose. A sickly-sweet smell fills your senses, burning your throat and nose as you try to hold your breath. Your body bucks and writhes, every instinct screaming for oxygen, but the fight is draining out of you.

Your limbs grow heavy, your vision darkening around the edges. No. Not like this. Not like this. Xavier… His name flashes through your mind, a beacon of warmth in the suffocating cold. You try to hold onto it, to him, but it’s slipping away, drowning in the black void swallowing you whole.

The last thing you see is the gleaming black beaks of two bird-like masks staring down at you, swirling together in your vision until your ultimately consumed into darkness.

Sylus was not a man who entertained the idea of relationships. Such luxuries were foreign to him, out of reach for someone whose life was dictated by danger and unrelenting speed. Relationships required trust and time—two things Sylus had no room for. More importantly, they required vulnerability. And vulnerability in his world was a weakness that could and would be exploited.

Even if he allowed himself to care for someone, he knew the inevitable result. They’d become a target, a pawn in the high-stakes game he played daily. Snatched, ransomed, used, discarded. It was a cruel, predictable pattern. So, Sylus lived without attachments, surrounded by layers of calculated isolation.

The closest things he had to "trust" were Luke and Kieran, his most loyal henchmen. Their loyalty was borne of utility and mutually assured survival. And then there was Mephisto. The crow was his creation, a mechanical marvel with sharp instincts and unwavering obedience. Mephisto wasn’t just a tool—he was an extension of Sylus himself, flawless in execution and incapable of deceit. The bird’s artificial intelligence made him a reliable companion, though Mephisto’s disdain for being called a “pet” often brought a faint smirk to Sylus’s lips.

But even surrounded by this curated circle of functionality, there were moments when the solitude gnawed at Sylus. A faint, unspoken yearning that he buried deep. He didn’t have the luxury to dwell on it…until the day Mephisto’s surveillance captured something that unexpectedly caught his eye.

A man that had sold him a subpar protocore was hiding from him. Sylus had known from the start but sometimes he liked to play little games with his prey. He wanted to see if the man actually had the guts to lie to the leader of Onychinus. And lo and behold. Sylus could barely hold back a grin when shaking the man's hand to seal the deal, who was wistfully unaware of the torment to come his way in the next few days.

Sometimes, watching prey squirm before the inevitable reckoning brought a kind of satisfaction. This man would learn, as all his enemies did, that Sylus always collected his debts…and always in blood.

Mephisto tracked the target effortlessly, his mechanical eyes capturing every movement, every desperate attempt to evade Sylus’s reach. The feed was sharp, clinical, until something unexpected happened. The dealer collided with someone in the crowded streets of Linkon, sending their belongings scattering. She was extremely apologetic, helping pick up the scattered belongings he had dropped.

Sylus’s attention was immediately drawn to the woman the dealer had bumped into. She crouched swiftly, apologizing as she helped gather the scattered items. Her gestures were quick but deliberate, her expression earnest as she returned the belongings. The dealer sneered at her, grumbling something vulgar before storming off, but Sylus didn’t care about him anymore.

His eyes were locked on her.

This feeling.

Someone like her wouldn't have caught his attention normally. Simple clothes...a uniform? But there was something…something in the way she carried herself, in the way her lips quirked in a self-conscious smile after the encounter. Sylus couldn’t place the feeling that stirred within him, but it was foreign and intrusive, like a fragment of a dream he couldn’t quite recall.

But what he did know how to do, was gather information. He quickly directed Mephisto to follow his new "target".

“Mephisto,” he said softly, his voice cutting through the still air of his office. “Follow her.”

He would deal with that man later. This girl, this random, insignificant girl had caught his attention. And he would figure out why. He was very good at problem solving. This issue would be over soon. She was just another average Linkon citizen after all, she couldn't be that interesting. He would get bored soon.

The bird shifted focus immediately, trailing the woman with silent precision. Sylus leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized her every move. She walked with purpose, her steps quick but not hurried. There was an air of quiet determination about her that intrigued him.

He noted the uniform she was wearing once again, the puzzle pieces clicking in his head she approached a tall window filled building.

“Zoom in,” he murmured, his gaze locked on the insignia that gleamed faintly on her chest. The image sharpened, revealing the badge she had on her chest. Of course. She's apart of the infamous Hunter's Association.

With a few deft commands, Sylus accessed the Association’s data streams, pulling her name from the badge and cross-referencing it with everything he could find. The information flowed like water: her name, her division, her recent assignments. She was relatively new but already distinguished, working with one of the Association’s top teams. Impressive. Too impressive to be ordinary.

He couldn’t send Mephisto into the building, but it didn’t matter. He entertained himself by combing through her digital footprint, piecing together the puzzle of her life. Medical records, former addresses, archived conversations…he devoured it all. And yet, the more he learned, the more questions arose.

Mephisto signaled to him that she had left the building and he promptly turned his attention to his camera again. She walked out with a slightly bubbly, shorter haired girl. The pair were deeply engrossed in conversation before an ashy blonde fellow joined them and touched the girls arm.

“And this is...?” he muttered, his tone sharper than before. Mephisto, as if sensing the shift in his creator's mood, zoomed in on the man. Sylus studied the new arrival’s features: lean build, soft blue eyes, a demeanor that radiated comfort. It made Sylus’s skin crawl.

The trio parted ways with the shorter woman, and Sylus’s unease deepened as the man and the girl continued walking together. Their interactions were light, natural…intimate in a way that Sylus found intolerable. She laughed at something the man said, her hand brushing his shoulder briefly, and Sylus felt his stomach churn.

Were they going in the same direction?

This was once confirmed once they both got off at the same stop, walking the same path towards a set of shiny apartment buildings.

Sylus felt his jaw tighten. He wasn't sure why but seeing her this close to this soft gazed man was eliciting dangerous urges in him. The pair both went up the stairs, and out of his view.

It didn't matter. He would find your apartment number with ease. Even if it meant having Mephisto perched on the same tree branch for days. Sylus questioned his sanity for just a bit. Was he really getting this worked up over a woman he had simply happened to glance at? He closed his eyes before chuckling.

Yeah. This wasn't normal, no. But nothing about Sylus was ever normal anyways. Why would this be any different?

And so the following weeks were spent on nothing but you. He'd eventually mustered the courage to see you in person (at a distance of course) and watch you a few feet away. Your voice was even more beautiful in person. And the sounds you would make when trying new sweets elicited very...intense reactions in his lower groin. He watched you and your female coworker eating sweets at a bakery. You moaned in delight as you chewed a frosting covered pastry, a bit of the white frosting dribbling down your chin. You and your friend giggled as you wiped it up, all the while Sylus felt like he was about to burst in public.

How could a scene so innocent get him going so much?

"Oh! I have to go! I have a hair appointment! Bye Tara!"

You hurriedly hugged the girl before licking your fingers and sprinting off. Sylus quickly and quietly followed behind.

Eventually, Sylus found his way into your apartment during the hours he knew you were away on missions. It wasn’t to do anything overtly invasive—at least, that’s what he told himself. He simply wanted to get a more personal look into your life, to see the pieces of you that weren’t on display in the digital world. Yet, that resolve didn’t stop him from letting his fingers graze over your clothes as he rummaged through your wardrobe.

Your taste was exactly as he’d imagined from the fragments he’d seen on your socials: practical, yet tinged with understated personality. It spoke of someone who balanced strength and beauty effortlessly. Sylus made mental notes of everything before meticulously putting it all back, ensuring not a single trace of his presence remained. Still, he wasn’t blind to the toll it was taking on him. The more he thought about you, the more he allowed himself these stolen glimpses, the deeper his longing grew.

But reality loomed over him like a dark cloud. Courting you in any traditional sense was an impossibility. It was far too dangerous. The moment word spread that Sylus, leader of Onychinus, had someone he cared about—and someone with an Aether Core, no less—it would spell doom. You’d be taken, tortured, used against him, perhaps even killed. He couldn’t let that happen. The thought alone was enough to send a shiver of fury and fear down his spine.

And yet, your Aether Core only deepened his fascination. It felt like destiny, a sign that you were meant to be intertwined. Two halves, separated only by circumstance, waiting to be connected. Was it fate, or mere delusion? Sylus didn’t care anymore. He would have you. He had to. Even if it took drastic measures.

You would remain oblivious to his plans until the time was right. That was the strategy. Yet, fate had a way of undermining even the most meticulous schemes.

It happened at a grocery store. He’d let himself get too close, drawn by the magnetic pull of your presence. Standing among the frozen foods, his gaze lingered a moment too long. When you turned, catching sight of him, his heart leapt into his throat. He quickly averted his eyes, feigning interest in the nearest shelf. But it was too late.

“Are you following me?” you asked, your tone sharp, yet your eyes betraying curiosity as they flicked over him.

Sylus laughed, a calculated, disarming sound. “I’m merely going in the same direction,” he said, his voice calm and smooth. “I suppose that’s all it takes to catch a stalking charge these days?”

You blinked, caught off guard by his tone, and then a sheepish smile broke across your face. “Ah, sorry… I guess I’m just a little jumpy lately.” You laughed lightly and extended your hand. “I’m…”

I already know your name, he thought, but he swallowed the urge to say it. Instead, he grasped your hand briefly, his composure betraying none of the fire that sparked at your touch.

“Sylus,” he said simply, the word leaving his lips like a prayer. Your touch felt electric, almost painfully vivid against the chill of the freezer aisle.

“Well, Mr. Stalker, I’ll let you off the hook this time,” you joked lightly, bowing your head apologetically. “Have a good day.”

And just like that, you were gone, your cart rattling as you pushed it down the aisle. Sylus’s hand hovered for a moment, half-reaching toward you before he clenched it into a fist. He didn’t want you to leave. Not yet. Not ever.

But this wasn’t the time. He reminded himself of the preparations still unfinished. Soundproofing, enhanced security measures, tools. Every piece of the plan needed to be perfect before he could make his move.

Unfortunately, time seemed intent on working against him.

One night, while keeping Mephisto stationed at a distance to monitor your apartment, Sylus saw something that sent a fresh wave of rage through him. You descended the stairs with the ash-blond man from before—Xavier. The pair stopped to chat, their body language familiar, intimate. Immediately, Sylus’s jaw tightened, and he barked an order to Mephisto.

“Zoom in.”

The feed tightened, the grainy image sharpening. He could see the faint smile on Xavier’s face as he spoke to you.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep at this time? Why are we getting food now?” you asked, tilting your head slightly.

Xavier shrugged, his expression casual. “Didn’t get to eat today. Besides, I know you didn’t either. Makes sense to go together, right?”

Sylus’s stomach churned as he watched you laugh softly and adjust the zipper on your jacket. He could practically feel his pupils dilating as he watched the metal of the zipper run over the soft tissue of your breasts, covering them completely out of view.

“Yes, but…what did you want to tell me? Surely you don’t need to drag me all the way to a convenience store just for that,” you teased lightly.

“Two stops,” Xavier replied. “Food, and then the park. Then I’ll tell you. Deal?”

You sighed, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Always so mysterious,” you said.

Sylus’s mind raced. He wasn’t a fool; he knew what this was. A ploy. A ploy to get you alone, to plant some foolish idea of romance in your head. The thought of Xavier touching you, of drawing you closer, ignited something feral inside Sylus.

He clenched his fist, his gaze hardening. Enough.

“Luke. Kieran,” he called, his voice cold and commanding as he stood and reached for his coat. “Prepare the items I requested. It’s time.”

Your heart pounds violently in your chest, the sound roaring in your ears as you jolt awake. Your head feels like it’s been split in two, the throbbing pain making it impossible to think clearly. Colors and shapes swirl chaotically behind your eyelids, the remnants of a dream that slips further away the harder you try to grasp it. Groaning in pain, you turn your head slightly, every movement sending shockwaves through your stiff muscles.

“Tylenol,” you mutter weakly, your voice barely audible and raw. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, and your throat is dry. The thought of the medicine—normally stashed in your bathroom—pulls you into action. You push yourself to sit up, the sheets tangled around you. Your limbs feel sluggish, your coordination off, but you manage to shuffle toward the edge of the bed. As you stretch out a hand to steady yourself, your fingers collide with something…cold. And fleshy.

“Wasn’t expecting you to be so handsy so soon, sweetie,” a deep voice says, smooth and laced with teasing amusement.

Your breath catches in your throat. A scream bursts from you as you jerk away instinctively, the adrenaline coursing through your veins propelling you off the bed. You crash to the floor, the sharp pain of the impact radiating through your hip and shoulder. Dazed, you try to crawl backward, your hands scrabbling against the smooth, cold surface of the floor.

Before you can get far, strong hands wrap around your arms, lifting you effortlessly as if you weigh nothing. You thrash against the grip, your instincts screaming at you to fight, to escape.

“Hey, calm down, honey. You’re going to hurt yourself,” the voice says again, calm and steady, but there’s an edge of command beneath the surface that makes your skin crawl.

“No! Stop! Let me go! Get out of my apartment!” you cry out, your voice breaking as your vision blurs with tears. You blink furiously, desperate to clear your eyes, desperate to see who’s holding you. Slowly, your surroundings begin to come into focus, and what you see makes your stomach twist with dread.

This isn’t your apartment.

The walls are black, their sleek surface reflecting the faint glow of the dim lights overhead. Heavy drapes hang from tall windows, blocking out any view of the outside world. Modern and sleek decor adorns the room: dark, ornate furniture with intricate carvings, sharp angles, and cold surfaces. The air smells faintly of something rich and unfamiliar, like expensive leather and faint traces of cologne. Everything about the space radiates power, wealth, and menace, a stark difference to your cozy and simple decor at home.

The arms around you loosen, and you’re placed carefully back on your feet. You stumble, pressing yourself instinctively against the nearest wall as you turn to face the man who’d spoken.

He’s very tall, his figure casting an imposing shadow in the low light. His sharp features are striking, almost too perfect, giving him an air of something inhuman. White hair with grey undertones falls just above his ears, framing a face that’s both elegant and cruel in its beauty. His eyes…they’re the worst part. Piercing and a crimson red, they seem to see through you, like a predator sizing up its prey.

“W-who the hell are you?” you demand, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to sound strong. Fear claws at your chest, making your breathing shallow and quick.

He tilts his head slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “Sylus,” he says simply, as if that single word answers everything. His voice is low, smooth, and unhurried, each syllable dripping with confidence.

“Where am I?! Where am I??”

Sylus takes a measured step closer, and you press harder against the wall, your palms flat against its cool surface. He notices your reaction but doesn’t stop. If anything, his smirk widens slightly, his amusement barely concealed.

“You’ve had a rough night,” he says, his tone almost soothing. “You should sit down before you hurt yourself again.”

You shake your head frantically, your heart hammering against your ribs. “No. I’m not sitting down. I don’t even know where I am or why you’re…” You trail off, your eyes darting around the room, desperately trying to piece together some explanation. The ornate furniture, the oppressive darkness, the sheer opulence of the space… none of it makes sense. Finally, you force the words out: “This is your place, isn’t it?”

Sylus nods, his expression unreadable. “You catch on quickly.”

“Why am I here?” you repeat, your voice rising as panic floods your senses. The weight of your fear feels suffocating, pressing down on you with every passing second.

His smirk grows sharper, a glint of something dangerous flickering in his eyes. “Because you belong here sweetie.”

His words hit you like a blow, the weight of them sending another wave of terror through you. Your mind races, searching desperately for a way out, for some chance to escape. But Sylus doesn’t move, his dark gaze fixed on you like a predator savoring the moment before the kill.

You’re trapped, and every instinct in your body screams for you to run, even as you realize there’s nowhere to go.

Then it all comes flooding back. The grocery store. The sharp, piercing eyes that seemed to linger too long. The white hair framing a face you couldn’t have possibly forgot. Your heart sinks as you connect the dots.

“It’s you,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “You were there, at the grocery store.”

Sylus tilts his head, the faintest flicker of amusement playing across his features. “You’re sharper than I thought,” he says. “Yes, we’ve met…though I’m sure you’ll agree this setting is far more…intimate.”

You feel your stomach twist in disgust, more tears beginning to pour from your face as you tremble,

“So…you were following me,” you whisper, the words trembling as they spill out. Then, louder, you scream, “I knew it! I fucking knew it… you sick fuck!”

In a desperate bid for escape, you lunge toward the bedroom door. But before you can reach it, a cold, red mist envelops your body. Your momentum is halted midair as the mist tightens around you like an unbreakable grip. A startled yelp escapes your lips as you’re lifted effortlessly and set gently back onto the bed. You twist and thrash against the invisible force, but it’s no use.

Sylus moves with unhurried precision, climbing onto the bed and pinning you down with his weight. His hands grip your wrists, pressing them firmly against the mattress and above your head. His face hovers close, a small smile playing on his lips as he watches you struggle beneath him.

“No need for such vulgarities, sweetie,” he says softly, his voice calm but with an undeniable edge of control. His hand moves to your face, brushing away the tears streaming down your cheeks. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

His words feel like a mockery, their gentleness only amplifying the terror gripping you. You try to twist away, your heart racing as his red eyes bore into yours, unyielding and unrelenting.

This power…you’ve never seen an Evol quite like it. The mist that held you, the way he’s able to keep you restrained without even breaking a sweat—it’s terrifying. The strength in his grip feels unmovable, like you’re struggling against solid rock. Your voice cracks as you demand, “What do you want from me?!”

You thrash harder, pouring every ounce of strength into breaking free, but it’s futile. Sylus doesn’t even flinch. If anything, he seems amused by your attempts.

“You’ve always been meant to be with me,” he says, his voice low and steady, as if explaining a universal truth. “By circumstance, we were kept apart. But none of that truly matters now.”

His grip tightens slightly, grounding you to the bed as he leans in closer. “We’re together now. Don’t fret. I’ll take care of you.”

Your mind races, a torrent of thoughts crashing together in chaotic waves. Always meant to be? The absurdity of his words claws at your sanity. How could someone you’ve never known—never even spoken to—believe something so delusional? Panic flares again as his words settle deeper, the full weight of their meaning pressing against your chest like a suffocating fog.

“You’re insane,” you hiss through gritted teeth, your voice trembling with fear and defiance. “We’re not meant to be anything! I don't even know you! Let me go!”

Sylus shakes his head, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. “I know change is hard. In time, you’ll understand.” His gaze softens, but it’s not comforting. It’s the gaze of a predator, satisfied with its catch. “This is overwhelming for you, but just trust me."

Before you can voice another protest, Sylus leans down suddenly, his lips crashing against yours in an abrupt and unwelcome kiss. The sensation is overwhelming, his grip unyielding as he presses you into the mattress. Your body stiffens instinctively, and a wave of revulsion washes over you. The intimacy feels like an invasion, every fiber of your being recoiling at the unwelcome touch.

His lips are warm, firm, tender with a possessive force that makes your skin crawl. Your mind screams in protest, a cacophony of fear, anger, and disgust that drowns out all rational thought. The coppery tang of blood fills your mouth as you bite down hard, desperate to sever the connection.

Sylus pulls back slightly, and for a moment you see it—a flicker of darkness in his expression, an almost imperceptible crack in his composure. The bloodied mark on his lip stands stark against his pale skin, but he doesn’t flinch. Instead, his eyes meet yours, sharp and cold, with a faint glimmer of something unspoken.

He raises a hand slowly, brushing his fingers over the mark as though testing its reality. Then, his gaze darkens, amusement fading into something more dangerous. The corners of his mouth curl into a faint smirk, though it no longer holds even a trace of warmth.

“You’re feisty, kitten” he murmurs, his voice low and controlled, but with an edge that sends a fresh wave of terror through you. “But I wouldn’t keep testing me. This…resistance?” He leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “It won’t get you anywhere.”

Tears sting your eyes as you glare up at him, trembling with equal parts fear and fury. “Just let me go,” you spit through gritted teeth, your voice shaking but defiant. “I’ll never—”

His finger presses gently against your lips, silencing you with unnerving ease. “Hush, honey” he says, his tone soft but carrying the weight of unspoken command. “Just lay still and behave."

Confusion grips you as his words hang in the air, their meaning slowly dawning with horrifying clarity. His hand moves to the hem of your shirt, lifting it slightly. A wave of dread crashes over you, threatening to drown you. No…no, he’s not going to…he can’t be serious. No!

“Stop!” you scream, your voice cracking as panic surges through you. “No! No! Please, stop!” You thrash violently, every muscle in your body straining as you kick and twist in his unyielding grip. “Please, I’ll do whatever you want—just don’t—”

Your pleas are met with silence, his focus unbroken, his grip like iron. His eyes focused, yet amused, as though your outburst is just a silly tantrum. He continues, undeterred, his hands steady as he unbuckles the buttons of your pants. “This is what I want,” he says, his tone as calm as if he were discussing the weather.

Your heart pounds erratically, terror clouding your thoughts. The room feels suffocating, the air too thick to breathe. Think. Think! Your mind races, desperate for something—anything—to stop him. Then, an idea strikes, reckless and impulsive, but it’s all you have.

You gather all the spit you can muster, clenching your jaw, and hurl it directly at his face. The saliva splatters across his cheek, glistening in the dim light. Time seems to freeze as you watch for his reaction, your breath caught in your throat.

His hand stills, his entire body going unnervingly still. Slowly, deliberately, he raises a hand to his face, wiping the saliva away with a measured swipe. His movements are unnervingly calm, controlled, as though he isn’t furious—but you know better. His lips curl slightly, and then he chuckles. It’s a low, rumbling sound, one that vibrates through the air like distant thunder.

The chuckle deepens, growing into a full, genuine laugh that echoes through the room. It’s unsettling—wrong. You stare at him, confused, your heart pounding as fear knots your stomach. Why is he laughing? The sound is too real, too unguarded, like he’s genuinely amused.

Finally, the laughter subsides. He straightens, towering over you with that same unsettling smirk tugging at his lips. His eyes are sharp, glinting with something you can’t place. Slowly, he leans down, his face inches from yours. You freeze, unsure whether to lash out again or flee. Before you can decide, his lips meet yours again.

The kiss is deliberate and slow, a mockery of tenderness that sends a shudder of revulsion through you. His breath is warm against your skin, his movements calculated, like he’s savoring the act. You remain stiff beneath him, your mind screaming in protest as your body betrays you, locked in place by terror.

When he finally pulls back, his smirk remains, though his eyes darken slightly. “I’ll let it go,” he murmurs, his voice smooth and calm, but with an edge that sends chills down your spine. “This time.”

He straightens, his presence still looming as he towers above you. “Food will be ready soon,” he says, almost casually, before turning away, leaving you trembling, breathless, and more terrified than before.

Sylus watched you from across the room, the faint smile on his lips betraying none of the thoughts swirling in his mind. He realized, with a hint of satisfaction, that you weren’t weak. It pleased him in a way. Breaking down someone strong was far more satisfying than toying with the feeble. He had learned that much throughout the years. But breaking you down was necessary, bit by bit, until he could mold you into something entirely his.

It wasn’t really control he wanted. No, there was something deeper, something that he buried beneath layers of cynicism and cruelty. Sylus wanted a family. The idea of a child, a creation of him and someone he loved, had lingered in the back of his mind for years. He’d resigned himself to the impossibility of it—his life, his enemies, his choices made it a fool’s dream.

But then he had seen you.

Following you, studying you, uncovering every detail of your life had planted the seed. You were everything he could want: resilient, intelligent, beautiful. The more he watched, the more his desire solidified into something almost obsessive. A child…with you. The mere image of you with a swollen belly, pregnant with his baby, panting in whining underneath him as he thrusted deep into you was enough to make him excited. The thought gnawed at him, sweet and insistent, until he couldn’t ignore it anymore. But he knew it wouldn’t be easy. Nothing worth having ever was.

The first real challenge came when you refused to eat or drink. Sylus had ordered his chefs to prepare the finest meals: delicacies from every corner of the world, plated and presented with meticulous care. Yet, you rejected it all. You sat in the corner of his room, sobbing and shivering, your defiance evident in every tremble of your body.

At first, he tried to force it. He held the food to your lips, his patience fraying as you turned away, your sobs breaking the silence. And when he did manage to get you to swallow, you vomited it back up almost immediately, your body rejecting his attempts as violently as your will.

“Alright,” he sighed, his voice cold, masking the frustration and the faint pang of something else—guilt, perhaps. “Have it your way.”

He stopped pushing, but he didn’t stop providing. Every meal, a plate was prepared and set in the room alongside his own. He would sit at his chair, eating with deliberate ease, his gaze occasionally flickering to where you huddled. He said nothing, made no effort to coax you. But he knew. He was patient. The long game was his specialty.

And slowly, it worked. Day by day, he saw the toll it took on you. Your movements grew slower, your defiance quieter. The strength that had burned in your eyes began to dim, replaced by the hollow shadows of exhaustion. It was only a matter of time. It worried him, your worsening state. He even begun to question whether you would be determined enough to actually starve to death. Not that he would ever actually let you.

That moment came when you finally crawled to him. It was agonizing to watch—your frail form dragging itself across the floor, every inch a struggle. Sylus’s chest tightened, a pang of something raw and painful blooming within him. He wanted to rush to you, to lift you up and hold you, to soothe the trembling wreck you had become. But he didn’t. Instead, he remained seated, feigning indifference, his eyes never leaving you.

When you finally reached him, your voice was a fragile whisper. “Okay…you win. Please. Food. Water.”

Inwardly, he smiled. Outwardly, he remained composed, but instead of motioning to the untouched plate, he lifted it himself and placed it on his lap. He carefully cut a small piece of the salmon and held the fork out toward you. “Go ahead, kitten,” he said softly, his voice calm but laced with a tender insistence, as if coaxing a skittish animal.

For a bit you didn’t move, just staring blankly at him. He chuckled before motioning the food towards your mouth again.

His movements were slow and deliberate, almost gentle. “You look worse for wear,” he murmured, his tone softening further as his gaze locked onto yours. “You need your strength. Let me take care of you.”

You blinked, confused, before you weakly whispered, “I…I can do it…” But your arms barely moved, your body trembling from exhaustion.

“Clearly, you can’t,” he replied smoothly, brushing a lock of your disheveled hair aside. “Now, open.”

Hesitating, you finally relented, your lips parting slowly as you allowed him to guide the fork to your mouth. The taste of the salmon was exquisite, perfectly seasoned, but it was overshadowed by the surreal intimacy of the moment. His hand lingered near your chin as you chewed, his gaze steady but strangely warm, as though he truly believed you’d shatter at any second.

“That’s it,” he murmured encouragingly. “See? It’s not so bad.”

Sylus watched you intently, cutting another piece with meticulous care before offering it to you. “Now swallow,” he said softly, his voice filled with an unnerving tenderness.

You obliged in weak silence, each bite fed to you with deliberate care. Your body, too weak to resist, obeyed out of necessity, and yet his lingering touches—his hand brushing your cheek, the way his eyes softened with each bite—left you unsettled.

Little did you know, the food had been altered.. Rohypnol, a common date rape drug, slipped into the delicate glaze on the salmon. He saw the moment it began to take effect—your movements slowed, your blinking grew heavy, and your body swayed slightly. Your chewing began to falter. You didn’t even realize what was happening as the sleepiness crept over you like a warm, suffocating blanket.

Sylus leaned forward, his gaze softening as he whispered, "Good girl, keep chewing. Don't bite your tongue"

All you could mutter was a moan, unable to think straight in your drug hazed state. You managed to swallow. All you felt was warm heat radiating off of slightly pale flesh. You blushed and planted your face in his neck.

Sylus put the fork down, amused by your affection. Getting up from the sofa in the room, he laid you down on his bed.

He began unbuckling his belt.

You were rendered completely helpless to his advances now. You didn't protest when he removed your shirt, didn't squirm when your pants and underwear came off. He felt almost breathless as the sight of your pristine cunt came into view, already beginning to glisten with your slickness. You whined as he began to circle your hardening nipples, and practically squealed when he put one his mouth, swirling around it with his tongue.

You were just divine. In every way. Your body, the sounds you made. Even despite the weight loss, you were beautiful. You looked up at him with beady and glazed over eyes as he finished removing his own pants, his hardened cock coming to your view.

"I..don...feel well.." you muttered, closing your eyes and weakly moaning to yourself as he lined up against you.

"I know sweetie, this won't take long I promise. Just lay there okay?" he said, pulling a nearby pillow over to better support your head.

He rubbed his tip against your entrance a few times but Sylus's control snapped, his need for you overwhelming any restraint. With a low growl, he pushed into you, his body claiming yours in swift act of possession. The sensation of being filled, of his hardness stretching you, caused your body to shiver, and you arched to meet him, your hands gripping the sheets as you welcomed him.

His senses flooded with pleasure as he sank deep within you, your wetness enveloping him, your body accommodating his size with a tightness that drove him wild. It was almost like you were made for him. He paused, his breath ragged, savoring the moment before he began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate, each one eliciting a sleepy moan from your lips. By the way you seemed to be tightening and untightening around him, you were clearly already close.

"You feel so good," he groaned, his voice strained. "Fuck...even better than I imagined."

His words were a plea, a surrender to the pleasure you both were experiencing. As he moved within you, his pace quickening, your bodies became a symphony of skin on skin, your moans and his grunts filling the room in a primal chorus. The morality of the situation seemed to fade into insignificance as you both succumbed to the raw, unadulterated pleasure of the moment, your bodies moving as one.

He wanted a baby in your womb.

His baby.

As Sylus's thrusts quickened, his control began to unravel even further, his body moving with an urgency that matched the escalating pleasure. Your body responded in kind, your hips rising to meet his, your legs weakly wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper into the cradle of your thighs. The room echoed with the sounds of your pleasure—your breathy moans, his guttural grunts, the wet, slick sounds of flesh meeting flesh.

"Mghn...ah..." you whined out, your voice hoarse, your body on the precipice of climax. It wasn't too long before you began to shake and pulse around his length, coming undone with a symphony of even loader moans and whines. It was like music to Sylus's ears, and enough to begin his own undoing. He gripped you firmly, shoving himself as deep as he would go as waves of hot semen began to shoot into your womb, only releasing you when he felt he had no more to give.

He sat up a little more, staring down at your sweat stricken body. You hadn't opened your eyes at all, now clearly dosing off into slumber. He smiled, eyes turning down to see that some of his semen was beginning to slip out of you. He was quick to catch what he could, and gently scoop it back inside.

Soon. Just a few more times of this tonight, and he would repeat the process tomorrow. And the next day. And however long it took. He wasn't a monster. He was doing this with purpose. Even if things had to be a little hard right now, it would all be worth it in the end.

You were starting to catch on. The food, the water…something wasn’t right. Each time you ate or drank, the same unsettling pattern unfolded. Your eyelids grew heavy, your thoughts muddled, and then…nothing. You’d wake up hours later with a pounding headache and a vague, gnawing ache between your legs. The lack of concrete evidence was maddening, but the suspicion burned at the edges of your mind, refusing to be silenced. You couldn't find any traces of...that. Were you just going crazy?

With time, you regained some of your strength. The helplessness that had once consumed you began to ebb, replaced by a simmering defiance. You were no longer the trembling figure huddled in the corner. You spoke less, but your gaze carried fire again. Sylus noticed, of course. He always did. It was impossible to hide anything from him for long.

One evening, he brought you dinner and a glass of water, just as he always did. The spread was exquisite—pan-seared duck, roasted vegetables, and a fine wine reduction drizzled over the plate. He set it down in front of you and waited, his piercing eyes fixed on you.

You hesitated, the now-familiar unease creeping into your chest. Then, you decided to test the waters. “Is there…bottled water?” you asked, your voice steady but your pulse racing.

Sylus’s brow arched slightly, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “Bottled?” he repeated, amusement lacing his tone. “Why?”

You shrugged, trying to appear casual. “The tap water tastes…off. Weird.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “The tap water here is the purest you’ll find. It shouldn’t taste weird.” His tone shifted, growing firmer. “Now eat.”

The command stung, his dismissal of your concern fueling the anger bubbling inside you. You glared at the plate, but you didn't comply. The taste of the food, once a source of faint comfort, now made your stomach queasy anyways.

Before he could start eating, Sylus’s phone buzzed. He stood, glancing at the screen before answering with a clipped, “Yes?” His voice, usually measured and calm, held a note of irritation. “And you need me to come down why? You two can handle him.” There was a pause, followed by an exasperated sigh. “Fine. Be there soon.”

Sylus hung up and turned back to you, his expression unreadable. “I’ll be back shortly,” he said, his voice void of warmth as he left the room. He was clearly irritated.

The second he was gone, your heart raced. This is it. You glanced at his plate, untouched and pristine. Your suspicions flared. If he was drugging you, this was the chance to prove it. Quickly, you switched the plates, swapping yours with his. If he ate it and succumbed, you’d finally have the upper hand. Freedom dangled tantalizingly before you, so close you could almost taste it.

Moments later, Sylus returned, his dark coat trailing behind him as he resumed his seat. His gaze flicked briefly to the plate before he picked up his utensils, cutting into the meat with precision. You watched him, your nerves a live wire as he lifted the fork to his lips.

But then he stopped.

Setting the fork down slowly, Sylus tilted his head, his eyes locking onto yours. His expression remained calm, but there was a faint edge of mockery in his smirk. “I’m honestly impressed,” he said, his voice low and smooth, each word deliberate. “But I’m a bit offended you think I’d fall for such a simple trick.”

Your stomach dropped, dread flooding your veins.

He leaned back slightly, his fingers steepled as his gaze bore into you. “You know how many times someone’s attempted to drug or poison me, sweetie?” His smirk widened, the darkness in his eyes deepening. “You’re going to have to try harder than that.”

You break into a nervous sweat, the panic bubbling over. How could he have possibly known? But it did confirm one thing. Your voice wavers with a mix of rage and fear as you growl, “So…you have been drugging me! I knew it!”

Slamming your fist on the table, your whole body shakes with the weight of your anger. The thought of what he’s been doing to you sends your mind spiraling, but you shove it down, refusing to let yourself break in front of him.

Sylus, however, remains completely unaffected. His expression doesn’t shift as he simply switches the plates back and cuts another bite of his food.

“Eat, kitten,” he says, his tone firm, commanding. “I won’t ask again.”

That nickname—it ignites a fire of fury in your chest. You’ve tolerated so much, but this, this is too much. The rage surges, hot and unrelenting.

“Don’t…call me that!” you scream, the words tearing from your throat as you shove the plate off the table with a sharp motion. The food tumbles to the floor, the glass of water follows, shattering into countless jagged pieces that scatter across the room.

The sound echoes, loud and jarring, slicing through the tension like a blade. You freeze, staring at the mess you’ve created, your breath caught in your throat as the reality of your actions sinks in. The anger begins to fade, replaced by a creeping wave of fear as Sylus’s eyes narrow, his expression unreadable. The room grows oppressively silent, the sound of your rapid breathing the only thing filling the void.

“Maybe I’ve been too nice to you,” Sylus says plainly, his voice calm but bleeding with anger. The subtle shift in his tone sends a chill down your spine. You freeze, the realization hitting you like a freight train—there was no getting away with an outburst today.

“Wait…I’m sorry,” you say shakily, your voice trembling as you crouch down, reaching for the shattered glass. “I’ll clean it up. I’m so, so—”

Before you can finish, his hand snaps out, grabbing your arm in a vice-like grip and yanking you roughly back to your feet. A sharp cry escapes your lips as pain shoots through your arm. You struggle, his grip unwavering, and then you notice it—the birth control implant bulging against your skin where his fingers dig in.

“Don’t bother,” he growls, his tone as cold as his touch.

“Ow! My birth control!” you scream, tears springing to your eyes as you try to pry his hand away. His movements falter for the briefest moment, his grip loosening slightly as confusion flickers across his face. He lets go, his crimson eyes narrowing as they focus on your arm. Carefully, he turns it over, his fingers probing the area until the faint, hard line of the implant becomes apparent beneath your skin.

A dark realization dawns on him, and his expression hardens. “You didn’t tell me about this,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. His voice carries a hint of accusation. “No wonder it wasn’t working.”

“What? What wasn’t working?” you exclaim, your voice rising as panic grips you. You try to yank your arm away, but his hold tightens again, his gaze never leaving the implant. The intensity in his eyes makes your stomach twist into knots.

“This needs to come out,” he states flatly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“No! No, no, no,” you stammer, your voice breaking as you shiver violently. “It’s fine! It’s probably expiring soon anyway, I think! Please, just leave it!”

The weight of his words sinks in, barely giving you time to process what he means. He wants you to carry his child. The thought sends your mind reeling, a sickening blend of fear and disbelief twisting through you. Your breaths come quicker, your chest tight as the reality of your situation settles heavily over you.

Sylus doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he looks up, meeting your panicked gaze. His eyes soften slightly, though not with kindness—it’s more like exasperation, as though this little implant was a major obstacle. He sighs, his grip easing but not releasing.

“You’re making this very difficult for me,” he says, his voice low and measured. The subtle edge of irritation only makes his words more chilling. You can’t tell what’s running through his mind, but the uncertainty is enough to make your knees tremble.

“All you have to do is sit around looking pretty, have my children, and you’d have everything you could ever wish for,” he says, his voice calm and almost conversational. “Is that truly so hard?” He doesn’t even look at you directly, his gaze distant, as if the answer were obvious.

You can't even speak. Have his what? You don't even know this man. You don't even want to be here. He sounds absolutely insane.

He calmly glances down at the floor, his eyes settling on the largest shard of glass among the shattered remains. Your heart drops as dread floods your senses. When his hand reaches out for the shard, you thrash violently, using every ounce of strength you can muster to pull away from his grip.

“Sylus! Please!” you cry, your voice breaking. “I can get it removed! Don’t-!”

But your protests are cut short as he produces a cloth from his pocket and presses it firmly over your mouth. The fabric muffles your screams, your muffled cries reverberating against the walls as he backs you against the bed. Your knees buckle, and you collapse backward onto the plush mattress. Before you can scramble to your feet, he is on top of you, his weight pressing you down. His Evol snakes out, an ominous red mist that coils around you, pinning your arms and keeping your struggling body firmly in place.

Panic consumes you as he leans in, his shadow looming over your trembling form. He holds the shard of glass delicately, almost reverently, examining its sharp tip as though weighing its utility.

His gaze flickers to your terrified expression for a moment, and then he does something that makes your stomach turn. He presses a quick, chillingly gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Be still, sweetie,” he says, his voice deceptively soft. “I’m doing this for us.”

Before you can even react, he lowers the shard of glass to your arm, pressing its tip lightly but firmly against your skin, right over the implant. The pressure sends a bolt of pain through you, tears streaming down your face as the room spins around you.

You scream.

He cuts.

[sorryimananti-romantic]

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

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

length: 38.7k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you sniffle, “call me when you arrive?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you know i can’t surf, san.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“which one do you think looks better?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“how did you start surfing?” you wonder.

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

“that’s really sweet of you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“how’s he going?”

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

“my hardest!” mingi yells across the field.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“fuck, did i just get rejected?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“good thing i’d bark for you, then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you smile, “i’ve missed you more.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you did it!” the boys respond excitedly.

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

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

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

“yes!” you shout back, “wait for me!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“sounds like you need a break.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

seonghwa nods, “woo as well.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you imitate his laughter with an exaggerated tone, “who was it that needed my help yesterday putting sunscreen on his back?”

“maybe i just didn’t want you to feel too bad about yourself,” he shrugs and walks over to swipe the glob of sunscreen out of your hands. you roll your eyes, knowing fully well he’s incapable of taking care of you without pretending to cover it up with an insult.

“stop squirming,” he chides. the contrasting cold of the lotion and warmth of his hand sends a shiver down your spine and you try not to dwell on his gentle rubs for too long. he’s meticulous in making sure he doesn’t miss a spot, but he’s also careful and deliberate with his touch around the knotted strings of your top so that you don’t feel uncomfortable. hongjoong and the word ‘uncomfortable’ could never be in the same sentence though. but he doesn’t need to know that.

“there,” he pats your back twice like a mechanic would with the hood of a fucking car to signal that he’s finished his job and then callously walks away.

you decide to let him off the hook and settle down on your stomach to rest your eyes for a bit. yeosang knows what he’s doing, because the combined warmth of the sand beneath your towel and from the overhead rays makes you drowsy almost immediately.

you’re flicking your salt-crusted hair out of your face when a voice interrupts, “hi, i’m sorry to bother you.”

lifting your head up to look, you’re met with the sight of a girl around your age, timidly fiddling with the popsocket on her phone. you sit up and give her a polite smile, “that’s okay. can i help you?”

“um, i was just hoping to ask if he has a girlfriend?”

the boys are all scattered along the length of the beach, save for yeosang next to you, so you’re not entirely sure who the girl is referring to until you follow her finger. she’s pointing in the direction of hongjoong, who’s joined some of the others along the shore.

“the short one?” you clarify, smile fading a little as you shrug, “i’m not too sure, sorry.”

the girl shakes her head, “oh, no. i meant the boy on his left.”

choi san. you now fight to keep the smile on your face friendly when you reply, “not that i know of.”

the girl thanks you excitedly, walking off back to her group of friends who immediately huddle around her to hear your answer. you look away.

you don’t realise you’re staring at san until he turns in the distance and makes eye contact with you. his entire face lights up, eyes disappearing and shadowed dimples revealing themselves under the gleaming sun. wooyoung takes the opportunity whilst san is distracted to swing a handful of limp seaweed straight into san’s face and a laugh escapes you before you can hold it in. your best friend looks more betrayed by your laughter than by wooyoung’s antics.

the younger turns to look at you with pride and when he sees that you’re laughing, he blows you an exaggerated kiss and sends it flying in your direction with a teasing flurry of his hand. yunho charges in from out of absolutely nowhere and pretends to tackle the kiss mid-air, throwing the imaginary show of affection into the sand where hongjoong immediately joins in and stomps on it with his foot, before sending you a flying kiss of his own instead.

chaos ensues and both hongjoong and yunho run for their lives as wooyoung chases them with his deadly seaweed whip. he quickly realises that the taller of the two will be impossible to catch, so he locks in on the easier target and hongjoong screeches in fear.

you can’t help but shake your head adoringly as you continue to watch, eyes landing on san once more when the cat and mouse go tearing past him in a whirlwind of sand. san holds your gaze with a fond smile of his own and you have to remind yourself that it’s normal for the boys to have suitors.

you’re not dating san. you’re not dating hongjoong. you’re not dating any of the boys, and they’re certainly not yours. so then, why does it feel like they are? but most of all, why does your heart feel equally bitter at the thought of someone asking about any of the boys…not just your best friend?

the sight of the tube of aloe vera gel in the fridge– likely placed there by seonghwa– is a welcome sight. you had diligently reapplied sunscreen to your body with the boys’ constant reminders to reapply but you had carelessly forgotten about your face. you’re paying the price of your mistake now and the red skin across the apples of your cheeks and forehead is tight with a constant, dull throb.

grabbing the tube, you walk into the bathroom where hongjoong is currently blow-drying his hair, having callen dibs on the shower after the beach trip.

“hey, lil’ tomato,” he jests before he gets a good look at your face. “woah, that looks worse than it was an hour ago.”

you hum as you peer closer into the mirror, “this is probably the worst sunburn i’ve ever gotten before.”

hongjoong ruffles the back of his hair one last time under the dryer before unplugging it and setting it on the rack. he slips the tube of ointment out of your hands and then turns you by the shoulders to face him. that’s how you find yourself between hongjoong’s front and the porcelain sink, the edge of the countertop digging slightly into your lower back as you watch him squeeze a generous amount of aloe vera onto the tip of his finger.

he murmurs, “hold still.” with a light touch, he tilts your chin up so that he can see the angry skin of your face. the stark contrast between the characteristic roughness of his edges and the tenderness with which he applies the soothing gel on your face right now has you itching to tease him.

“admit it. you like taking care of me, don’t you.”

he rolls his eyes, “and you like being taken care of, don’t you. like when you needed your notes handwritten by johnny.”

ever since that one incident, the boys have never let you hear the end of it. they may not realise it themselves either, but really, they’re just trying to keep low tabs on this…classmate. even if the way they go about it reflects the emotional maturity of somebody half their actual age.

“i admit it’s nice to be taken care of. what about you, huh?” you challenge, poking his side testingly. “you like taking care of me, don’t you?”

you giggle when he squirms and you try it again to elicit another response, until he suddenly grabs your hand by the wrist.

“and so what if i do?” his words come out easily, but unlike the usual cockiness and flirtatiousness that he jokes around with, his tone is low and serious.

you don’t respond because you don’t know what to respond; you’re suddenly walking in uncharted territory– both in regards to his feelings and your own.

when his fingertips brush the area of your cheeks just below your under-eyes, you can’t help the instinctive flutter of your lashes. his eyes stare into yours and you swallow, noticing the way his gaze flickers down to follow the movement. there’s hunger in his pupils and longing in your chest. you don’t move away when he moves closer in.

your eyelids flutter closed once again, except this time in anticipation. his hands still cup your cheek and hold your wrist and when he brings his face down towards yours, you can feel the warmth of his body surrounding and intoxicating you. but as his nose starts to nudge the softness of your cheeks, hongjoong pulls away.

“sorry, i–this was a mistake. i shouldn’t be doing this,” he stutters. and just like that, the moment shatters.

“th–that’s okay,” you awkwardly smile. “this never happened.”

he nods without looking at you, “this never happened.”

you’re glad your face is sunburnt because you’re certain your face would be glowing from the embarrassment and shame you are overwhelmed with. hongjoong turns around before you can say anything else and leaves the bathroom, closing the door behind him and leaving you alone.

quickly, you lock the door and then stand there stunned into a stupor. because his…whatever the fuck that was, has given you startling clarity that he is right. you shouldn’t be doing this. you shouldn’t be kissing him when you want san and your six other friends equally as much.

and most of all, it was foolish of you to assume that he actually wanted something more than friendship. if hongjoong, the most flirtatious of them all, doesn’t have any romantic interest in you– or at the very least enough to want to pursue something more– then what makes you think you have a chance with any of the boys? what makes you think that any of them– much less all of them– would want you in the same way that you have now realised you want them?

in a way, your heart feels more at ease now. knowing that your feelings for the boys will be unfruitful one way or another, it’s much easier to ignore the now obvious lurch in your heart whenever they pull you into an easy hug or tell you that you look pretty. it’s easier to repress the longing you have for them when they help you put on sunscreen or surround your house with mischief and laughter.

you can’t tell whether hongjoong is actively avoiding you or whether he is conveniently busy with the other boys, but you suppose time apart right now is good for the both of you. after all, time is supposed to heal everything. and so even as the end of summer approaches and the much anticipated night of the barbeque and campfire tradition arrives, you keep your distance from hongjoong and he keeps his. simply two friends coexisting within the larger group of friends; nothing more, nothing less.

you’re all sitting on a patchwork of picnic blankets and beach towels spread around the small fire that san has constructed, now experienced from having made one three years in a row. haneul shares the towel with you on one side and yunho on your other.

dinner had been greasy meat grilled by wooyoung’s skilled hands paired with cheap alcohol that made you all wince when it went down. it had been finished off with skewered marshmallows– the most vital part of the night, as mingi had fervently reminded everyone.

someone had then suggested a round of ‘truth or dare’, which most definitely did not stop at one round. the flushed cheeks and tipsy slurs not only made the dares increasingly bizarre, but it made everyone daring enough to actually do them. as the night had continued on, the outlandish dares slowly trickled off and more of you picked to answer truth questions. with the mellowing ambience of the campfire and the clearing buzz of alcohol in your systems, it was only a matter of time before the night fizzled into calm.

“mingi,” haneul directs her question at the taller, “ if you were to date one of us excluding me, who would it be?”

his eyes dart from her to you and then to every single one of his friends. “i’d date you all,” he shrugs. “but if i had to pick one person, then probably yunho, since he’s been there for me from day one.”

yunho knocks shoulders with him appreciatively whilst joking, “your parents would love to hear that answer.”

you spot san and wooyoung cringing at the thought and you’re reminded of snippets of a conversation about surfing as a distraction and escape from home.

moving the game on, mingi asks seonghwa when he picks truth, “if you had to pick between love and friendship, which one would it be?”

seonghwa hums for a while, watching the dancing lick of flames. “i think it depends on the situation, because in the end, they’re not that much different from each other. in love there is friendship, and in friendship there is love. it’s impossible to say that one is more important than the other.”

there’s a collective boo as he skirts around the question, but you all understand where he’s coming from. it still doesn’t stop san from retorting, “the whole point is to pick one.”

seonghwa chuckles and downs half a shot to appease the other of his apparent half answer, then tosses the same question at him. “what about you, then?”

much to his disappointment, san actually has an answer.

“i would probably choose love. i think you’re right in saying you can’t separate love and friendship, but the thing that sets a romantic relationship apart is being in love,” he muses. “it’s hard to find friends you love, but it’s even harder to find a friend you fall in love with, so i would probably hold onto that no matter what.”

a few of you subconsciously nod along, words resonating with yourselves. haneul nudges you curiously, “what do you think?”

you relax into her side as you slowly formulate a cohesive answer from your thoughts. “i think i would choose love, too. i’ll admit it’s a much more difficult relationship than friendship and it often requires sacrifices to be made…it can even mean having to let go of somebody completely.”

hongjoong glances at you, guilt pricking at his chest.

“but at the same time,” you continue, “when you love somebody that much, sacrifice becomes something you want to give and are willing to offer to the other person, and you develop a depth of understanding, connection and intimacy strong enough to overcome anything that isn’t always possible with friendship.”

“you and san are both such gross romantics,” haneul pretends to gag.

“yeah, shoot us for it,” you poke her in the side. “wooyoung, truth or dare?”

“since everyone’s picking truth…truth.”

“who’s someone you’re sorry towards or thankful for?”

he whines indignantly, “why are we suddenly getting so personal,” but proceeds to think about his answer seriously. “if i’m honest, i’m sorry towards everyone. i know there are times i fall short as a friend and make mistakes, but you all always forgive me and embrace my imperfections so graciously. sometimes it makes me wonder if i even deserve you guys.”

there are immediate noises of protest and wooyoung smiles, waving away their words of objection because he knows that he’s wrong. it’s just that knowing doesn’t always stop him from feeling a certain way. “and of course, what i’m sorry for goes hand in hand with what i’m thankful for. but i’m also especially thankful for y/n,” he reveals.

your body reacts instantly to his unexpected answer, blood rushing towards your cheeks and ears as he looks at you appreciatively.

“i haven’t known you for as long as most of the other boys, but i’ve seen how happy and vibrant they are whenever they return to seoul or whenever they talk about you. and i can definitely see why, now. you make them happy–you make us happy.”

mingi clears his throat, jumping in to add to the younger’s answer, “when i’m here in namhae with you, with everybody, it feels like home.”

a home that he’s never really had until yunho, san, you, and the rest of the boys came along.

“so thank you for giving me a home here,” mingi looks at you earnestly.

if he were sitting closer, you would reach over and squeeze his hand reassuringly. instead, you tell him, “no matter how many years go by, you’ll always have a home here.”

“and the rest of us?” yunho jokes, lightly slapping your knee where your legs have slowly made their way into his lap over the night.

“you all have a home here,” you amend. because namhae is not the same without san, and namhae is not the same without the rest of your friends, either.

you continue asking each other questions, even after midnight has long ticked past and haneul has retired back to the beach house for some sleep. nobody wants the night to end, because despite already having been attached to each other’s hips all summer, the time you are spending now around the campfire is different. life slows down and the nine of you are the only ones to exist along with the stars and the ocean waves.

“you know what we should do?” wooyoung pipes up when you are all quietly watching the fire. he grins, “we should do that thing where we shout at the ocean.”

“just…straight up scream?” hongjoong frowns.

a smile starts to spread across san’s face as he understands wooyoung’s vision. “no, like our dreams. regrets. confessions,” san elaborates, making a move to stand and brushing the sand off his shorts.

seonghwa questions, “are we really doing this?” and yet he stands up as well.

“when will we ever get a chance to do this again?”

one by one, you all get up on your feet and wander down the beach closer towards the water. it’s silent, save for the crash of waves, while you eye each other and wait for somebody to start it off.

yunho clears his throat, then yells his next words from the very depths of his chest, “i want to become a famous choreographer!”

there are shared giggles at the striking contrast in volume after hours of low, heartfelt conversation, but it’s enough to fill the rest of you with courage and desire to do the same.

“i want my parents to accept that i won’t be a lawyer like they wanted me to be!” yeosang calls out.

mingi takes a huge breath with his entire body, “i hope i’ll win the lottery one day!”

you all break out into laughter, happiness and vigour running high through your veins. it definitely feels a little silly and a little childish, but is that not the charm of living in the prime years of your youth and spending it with your friends?

reservations now completely thrown to the wind, the boys holler and yell both serious and unserious aspirations with their entire soul, cupping the sides of their mouths with their hands to carry their voices further out across the waters. you watch them with deep affection and tenderness and your eyes suddenly start to well up with the intensity of your emotions.

thank you for showing me what love feels like. you can continue to love them as friends, and that is already more than you could ever ask for.

taking a deep inhale of the chill of emerging dawn and blinking away the blur in your eyes, you join the boys and yell your heart out to the ocean. your screams blend together into a symphony of dreams and hopes; the swell of the chorus and the pinnacle of the movie.

and even though you’re all half-delirious from the lack of sleep, hair ruffled and mismatched pajamas wrinkled, it feels like anything and everything is possible in this moment. from here on, it’s the nine of you against the world and whatever it may bring.

you’ve known johnny since you started attending namhae’s provincial college. being from a relatively small cohort and the same degree no less, you share most of your classes together. there’ll be a few times throughout the month that you’ll find yourselves sitting in the seat beside each other and maybe once a semester that you’ll complete a group task together.

he’s easy enough to get along with, conversation sprinkled with terrible jokes and random puns that remind you of yunho’s silly humour. you know for a fact as well that they’re the same height too, which sort of makes you wonder whether being tall has something to do with the way their funny bone develops, considering mingi’s humour is just as questionable.

you and johnny aren’t exactly distant enough to only be classified as classmates, but you’re not exactly close either. so it’s a surprise when, after summer ends and it marks a new semester, johnny asks you out on a coffee date on the weekend. (except the more you think about it afterwards, the more your seemingly random interactions make sense. why he asks for your number even after the group project is over. why he offers to drop off handwritten notes for you. why he sometimes favours sitting with you as opposed to with his own friends.)

initially, you tell him that you’re not interested, any potential awkwardness dissipating the moment he dramatically wails that he’s been rejected, much like hongjoong had when you had first met him. but then a week later, johnny coolly slaps an envelope onto the surface of your lecture table and struts off without looking back. when you open it, you realise it’s a three-page handwritten essay detailing his pros and cons in an attempt to try and win you over.

it reminds you of wooyoung, when he had made a whole presentation on his laptop complete with photographic and videographic evidence to try and convince you that he was the best dancer out of himself, san, yunho and mingi. like your friend, johnny’s efforts are honestly a little too hilarious and a little too endearing to reject for a second time, and it’s not like johnny has done anything to suggest that he’s a creep or murderer. so you let him take you out on the date.

he chooses to go to the small, quaint cafe that’s about a fifteen-minute walk from campus. coincidentally, it’s the one that you and san used to frequent before he moved away to seoul. johnny tells you to try the chocolate hazelnut dacquoise slices, which you do even though you know you prefer the strawberry ones more. the sweet mouthful makes you think of san, always offering you the first bite of his chocolate dacquoise in hopes of converting you to the flavour.

johnny pays for your dessert and drink and you two end up sitting in the cafe long after your plates have been cleared and mugs emptied to their bottoms. it turns out he likes spending time at the beach just as much as you do and he tells you of his summer trip to the maldives for his casual modelling gig. you’re not entirely surprised to learn of his part-time endeavours, considering you’ve never seen him dressed in anything less than loafers, chino shorts and a neatly-pressed button-up shirt. plus, johnny is objectively very attractive with his strong brows, chiselled jawline and dark locks of hair.

he offers to walk you home after your date, shrugging off his white button-up and passing it to you when you exit the cafe. it’s still warm enough in the afternoon to not need the extra layer, but you’re reminded of yeosang’s quiet yet perceptive gestures and it makes you smile nonetheless.

the weekend leads to a second date, followed by more time spent together. he finds reasons to see you throughout the weeks– the sun’s out which means you two should take a walk along the beach; he fell asleep during yesterday’s lecture which means you two should study at the cafe; he has a basketball match on the weekend which means you two should practise shooting hoops together.

and when you’re not physically spending time together, johnny likes to facetime you just so that he can ‘see your pretty face’. the frequency with which he compliments you randomly throughout the call is almost on par with seonghwa, who always sweetly observes when you're wearing a new lip tint or different hairstyle.

johnny’s laugh, be it in person or over video call, never fails to make you laugh with him. it’s boisterous when he doubles over with laughter and his eyes disappear when he chuckles. you can’t help but see jongho’s own adorable giggles in him.

after several months of courting advances, johnny asks to make it official. you say yes, because you have fallen for him.

and so, like the dwindling campfire that had marked the end of summer, you snuff out the remains of the fire in your heart that has been burning for san, hongjoong and the six other boys, leaving the last of the embers to their fate. left alone, they will slowly die out, completely extinguishing the flames and leaving only ashen remnants behind…or the sparks will continue to fight unnoticed; until they rekindle and turn into an uncontainable inferno.

“with all due disrespect, his parents don’t fucking deserve to be parents,” wooyoung spits out.

yunho tucks the blotchy aftermath of mingi’s heartbreak a little tighter into the crook of his own neck, other hand softly tousling the ends of the younger’s hair. the boys have only just managed to settle mingi into one of the beds in their shared dorm rooms after he had shown up at the dance studio barely holding it together by his last thread.

“i don’t think any of us had high hopes for them, considering the things he’s told us about them over the last few years,” seonghwa sighs as he pulls the blanket over mingi’s shoulders.

“but for them to just fucking disown him like that? do they even realise how much it took for him to come clean about us?”

san gently pulls wooyoung away from the bed, lest he wake up the boy in question, and massages his clenched fist open. yeosang sidles up to the pair, “do you think we could go down to namhae a few days earlier this summer?”

“that actually might be possible,” san chews on his bottom lip and takes out his phone to text his parents. “it’ll be a nice surprise for y/n, too.”

“she’s in for a few surprises,” jongho comments before nudging the boy next to him. “hopefully you didn’t scare her off after what you did.”

hongjoong scratches the nape of his neck at the jab, “yeah, i hope i didn’t fuck things up for all of us.”

“you still haven’t talked it out with her?” san looks up from his phone.

hongjoong grimaces, “no, but how could i? she said to pretend that it didn’t happen.”

“and you just took her word for it? god, that’s literally the universal response anyone would automatically give in a situation that’s utterly and mortifyingly embarrassing,” wooyoung throws his arms up into the air. “i wouldn’t be surprised if she says no to us after all.”

“look, i’ll talk to her when we see her again. the semester’s nearly over, anyway.”

san nods, “my parents are fine with us going down a weekend earlier. and i agree with hongjoong on this one–it’s probably something they should talk about in person, not over the phone. let’s just hope we haven’t missed our timing with this.”

there’s only a few more weeks left until summer, minus one week now that they have decided to make the trip down to namhae earlier for mingi’s sake. and regardless of what your answer will be to the question that they’ll ask you– be it yes or no– it still won’t change the fact that everything will be okay once they get to namhae. because everything is okay as long as you are by their side.

there’s a man standing by your side, and it’s not one of them.

it’s strange to see you holding hands with someone that they don’t know. of course, it’s inevitable that you would have your own friends in namhae and from college, and of course it’s inevitable that you would have friends of both genders. but the way you have your fingers interlocked with his looks anything but platonic.

the boys are familiar with the way their own hands feel with yours nestled in theirs; from when you squeeze yourself between two of them and happily swing your intertwined hands back and forth; when a large wave threatens to topple you over and you instinctively reach for them for support; when you’re curled up against them and absentmindedly fiddling with their fingers whilst watching a cheesy summer romcom. but right now, their own hands feel unfamiliar– oddly empty and unable to make up its mind as to whether it wants to relax or tighten into a fist, even more so when you make eye contact with them standing outside san’s house and freeze.

you haven’t told the boys about johnny yet, only that you had news you wanted to tell them in person once they came for the summer. but now that they are here, standing right in front of you and your boyfriend, you suddenly feel a prick of guilt that you hadn’t given them a heads up of some kind.

you slip your hand out of johnny’s grasp under the guise of tidying your hair. if johnny notices, he doesn’t comment on it. instead, he asks, “you know them?” and settles his arm heavily over your shoulders. the action probably looks as territorial as it feels.

“yeah, they’re my closest friends,” you answer louder than you need to, because you feel like you have to defend them– or yourself. “san’s from namhae, too, and the others are from different provinces. they go to college together in seoul.”

“oh,” your boyfriend makes a noise, “it’s them.”

hongjoong feels awfully smug at that comment, because it means that you’ve talked about them before. he feels even more pleased when you slightly step out from under the man’s arm. but then your next words have his expression darkening again.

“i was going to officially introduce him to you guys on your first day…i just wasn’t expecting it to be today,” you gently place your hand on johnny’s forearm. “this is johnny, my boyfriend.”

immediately, the boys recognise his name– how could they forget, when the name has never once left their subconscious since the moment he was mentioned. a fleeting thought enters hongjoong’s mind. if he had not pulled away that night– if he had kissed you instead of being a coward– would it be him standing by your side as your boyfriend right now?

and hongjoong is not alone in his thoughts. wooyoung’s teeth grit together as he wonders how different things may have turned out if only the older or he himself had been bolder with their feelings. if only any of them had plucked up the courage to make the first move. because you dating any of them would automatically put their heart infinitely more at ease than the literal fucking stranger who is standing by your side.

you’re about to tell your boyfriend the names of the eight boys in front of you when he raises an eyebrow at you, “you didn’t tell me your friends were all guys.” his tone isn’t accusatory, per se, but it’s definitely not cordial, either. this side of johnny is completely new to you.

seeing the flustered look on your face irks wooyoung in every way possible so he interrupts, “and why does it matter to you?”

johnny levels him with a look for several seconds before smiling placatingly. “you’ll understand when you get a girlfriend,” he dismisses.

immediately, there’s a palpable spike in tension. “sorry?” wooyoung scoffs.

san sets a firm hand on the back of wooyoung’s neck and you lowly murmur your boyfriend’s name– respectively scruffing the two men. you didn’t know what to expect introducing your friends and boyfriend to each other. but the start of what looks like it has the potential to turn into a fight was definitely not on the list.

in a lame attempt to change the topic, you comment, “you guys are here early this year.”

there’s a beat of silence that’s a split second longer than you deem comfortable and yunho clears his throat, “yeah…things ended up this way.”

the vague comment and pointed look in your boyfriend’s direction tells you that there’s more to it than they are letting you onto right now. you make a mental note to talk to them once johnny leaves…if he ends up leaving. but the heavy weight that is still draped around your shoulder shows no intention of removing itself.

even though your instinct is to run up to the boys and receive all the hugs you have missed, and their instinct is to pull you away from the unfamiliar man and back into the intimacy of their group, the arm around you is a stark reminder to everyone that you’re not single anymore– that there are now boundaries to respect. instead, your friends are left to shuffle awkwardly on the spot with wavering gazes as if they have caught you doing something they weren’t supposed to see.

“do you have classes today?” san dares to ask.

“not today. we were just…out,” you reply. on a date, it goes unsaid.

“well, we’re headed for the beach,” san hates the fact that he even has to ask his next sentence, “do you want to join us?”

looking at johnny, you hate the fact that your immediate answer isn’t to say yes. he glances at you and then answers on your behalf, “we’ll join. it’ll be nice for us to get to know each other, since it seems like we’ll be seeing each other often this summer.”

“not if you don’t show up,” wooyoung mutters under his breath, but he’s not really trying to be quiet about his disdain.

you fake a smile and push your boyfriend towards the entrance to your house. “we’ll get changed and then meet you guys down at the beach.” you don’t wait for an answer before shoving the front door open and shut again in quick succession behind you.

“wait here,” you tell johnny, “i’ll get you a spare pair of shorts,” then you disappear into your bedroom and let out a deep exhale, closing your eyes to clear your head.

you had spent the last few years embracing the changes in your relationship with san. every summer marked a change in your friendship group– a new chapter each year as you rewrote the group dynamics with additional people to love and be loved by.

this summer, like the others, also marks a change and beginning of a new chapter, but now you’re realising that not all chapters in a story will always be happy. instead, some chapters will mark the beginning of the complication.

it feels like an unusual mix between deja vu and an out-of-body experience as san straps the leash of his surfboard around his ankle. his gaze follows your form and he watches silently when you’re picked by the waist and tossed into the ocean. it looks all too familiar– except instead of him being the one who brings the laughter out of your squeals, it’s that annoyingly tall and irritatingly jacked dude that is your boyfriend.

san can’t help the sigh that escapes his lips as he peels his eyes away. if johnny makes you happy, then objectively, san wants nothing more for you. but he cannot help but feel that you are undeserving of anything less than the entire world; something he and his boys are willing to give to you. but life is all about timing and it seems like they’ve missed theirs.

he’s distracted by the sight of you and johnny in his peripheral vision, even as he paddles out into the deeper waters with yunho. the taller is uncharacteristically quiet, his eyes repeatedly flickering back and forth between you and mingi. mingi needed this trip more than any of them combined, but there’s an uneasy feeling in the pit of yunho’s stomach that’s telling him the appearance of your boyfriend is only just the beginning of a rocky summer.

regardless of their combined years of surfing experience, both yunho and san seem to continuously lose their balance on their boards today. and despite the saltiness of the sea water that flows into san’s mouth each time he falls– no longer the graceful choreographer of the sea– there’s a bitter taste on his tongue that he cannot get rid of no matter how many bottles of water he drinks over the rest of the day.

it follows him even when the sweet fragrance of fresh pastries and syrupy drinks permeates the air the moment he walks into the bakery you so adore after your group walks from the beach. san pulls the glass door open for you, wind chime tinkling softly overhead, and he has to resist the urge to let go of the door handle when your boyfriend also walks through without so much as a word or glance of gratitude.

before san walks up to the counter, he instinctively turns around to check your order before he adds it to his own like he has always done. “strawberry dacquoise and grapefruit ade?”

you’re about to nod when johnny steps into place beside you and asserts, “she likes the chocolate ones.”

san keeps his voice as even as he can and refutes, “no, y/n prefers the strawberry ones. i would know, considering we’ve been going to this cafe together since we were twelve.” he emphasises the last word, clearly telling the other that he is the one who has known you since you were young and therefore knows you the best out of anyone, boyfriend be damned.

not backing down, johnny turns to ask, “is that true, babe?”

you swallow uncomfortably, mouth suddenly dry. “i like both,” you evade.

but your lack of denial says more than enough and johnny’s frown deepens almost immediately. at his expression, you rush to amend, “i know you like the chocolate ones more. it makes me happy sharing them with you.”

“you should’ve told me,” johnny fusses. but opposed to disappointment at not having known your preference for strawberry, he seems more displeased at having discovered this fact through your male friend.

san notices how apologetic you start to feel and he absolutely despises how unfamiliar it looks on your face. if this is the type of boyfriend that he is giving you up to, then san is not prepared to let go of you at all.

“or maybe you should’ve noticed,” he shrugs nonchalantly in your boyfriend’s direction before smiling tenderly at you. “i’ll order your food. go find a seat with seong–”

johnny’s voice is heated when he interjects, “no, you won’t. i’ll pay for my girlfriend’s food.”

you’ve never heard him talk with this tone before, much less seen him act this way, but his words suddenly strike you with clarity and reasoning. with a relationship comes adherence to mutual boundaries and expectations, and although san is used to doting on you, the reality now is that johnny currently fulfills that role as your boyfriend.

“it’s alright, san. thank you,” you give your friend a soft smile. “johnny’s got it for me.”

san nods, defeated. your boyfriend gently nudges you in the direction of the tables, “go sit down. i’ll bring our order over when it’s ready.”

on edge, you walk to where some of the boys are already seated and slide in beside seonghwa, who has been watching the entire exchange silently. “y/n,” he starts.

you plaster on a smile, “it’s okay.”

seonghwa studies you carefully for a moment, then appears to make up his mind about something and returns your smile. except anybody can see that it doesn’t reach his eyes. “do you want to swap seats with me? that way you and johnny can sit on the same side.”

grateful for his thoughtfulness, you change seats and sit on his left just as wooyoung joins the table with an iced americano in his hand. he sets it down to drag a spare chair beside him, offhandedly commenting, “why are you even dating him? i don’t get what you see in him.”

he hisses when seonghwa kicks his shin from under the table, shaking his head, and you just give the younger a tight-lipped smile in response. you’re distracted by the buzz of your phone in your pocket. a quick glance downwards tells you that it’s a text from san.

sorry for putting you between your bf and i

you look up in surprise and find that he’s already gazing at you from where he’s waiting at the counter. his eyebrows knit together in apology and you shake your head, mouthing that it’s okay. san has always been the bigger person in any situation– with you, with friends and family, and even with people he doesn’t necessarily see eye to eye with.

your phone buzzes again, twice in succession, but this time the notifications aren’t from him. it’s johnny.

what’s his problem, god wants to get into your pants or sth

your boyfriend continues to tap away at his phone, expression marred with poorly concealed irritation. but he doesn’t seem to be referring to your texting exchange with san– you don’t think he’s even noticed. instead, he’s still hooked on the ordering incident.

slipping the phone back into your pocket and pretending you have not noticed the messages yet, you simply wait for johnny to grab the tray with your pastries and drinks before he slides into the chair next to you. and for the first time since dating, you find yourself comparing your boyfriend not to san, but against him.

it feels like you have spent the last two months treading carefully on eggshells. there are days you spend with both johnny and the boys and it becomes clear to everyone pretty quickly that they’re not warming up to each other. despite your best efforts to bring them closer, there is unmistakable tension that underlies every interaction that they have and don’t have with one another.

then there are the days you spend with just your boyfriend. he doesn’t mention your friends and neither do you, but you notice the way his gaze flickers to your phone whenever it lights up with a notification. like a mutual taboo, he simply continues the conversation after a pause and you don’t point it out.

and then there are the rarer days that you spend with just the eight of your friends, like today– the ones that feel like the old summers that you have started to yearn. and yet, even with the familiar essence of the past, you start to notice them. the subtle differences.

it’s not obvious at first. the casual displays of affection that have extended beyond habitual touches and have just become who they are are still there. but there’s something about the attentiveness with which seonghwa dusts the powdered sugar off of yeosang’s cheeks when he’s eating. or in the naturalness with which wooyoung moulds himself into san’s side when they sit on the couch. something in the way mingi’s entire body relaxes whenever yunho gently thumbs the nape of his neck, and in the softening of hongjoong’s eyes when jongho speaks up in conversation.

maybe it’s because you find yourself no longer a part of their shared love, regardless of how platonic it may be between you and the boys. ultimately, it’s easier to notice things when you’re watching on as what feels like an outsider. and it makes sense that the dynamics of your friendship would change, considering how deeply embedded physical affection is within your group and the fact that you now have a boyfriend, but there’s something more to their interactions– you’re sure of it. you just can’t put your finger on what exactly.

it’s that thought that reminds you of yunho’s words when he and the rest of your friends had turned up a week before the start of summer. “what did you mean about things having ended up this way when you guys came down to namhae early?” you suddenly ask, eyes looking away from the television screen where the round of their game has just ended. “and wasn’t there something else you guys had wanted to tell me about?”

clearly not having expected your questions, yunho blinks as he formulates a response, “yeah, there is. just–maybe talk to mingi first. you’ll probably want to hear it directly from him.”

and hongjoong needs to talk to you first, too, yunho thinks to himself. except, he wonders whether there is even a point to it anymore.

your heart sinks at yunho’s words because you have a feeling it has to do with mingi’s parents. and his parents are never good news. right at that moment, mingi emerges through the doorway after his shower, a towel draped over his shoulders as he uses its ends to roughly dry his hair. he stops in his tracks when he notices you and yunho staring at him.

“i know i’m hot but you don’t have to make it that obvious,” he jokes.

you snort and shake your head, getting up to your feet and walking over to him as yunho watches knowingly. “come sit outside with me for a bit?” you ask mingi.

he agrees, pulling the towel off and tossing it onto the back of a chair to dry. you catch a whiff of san’s shampoo when he moves, the fragrance of cedarwood and bergamot that all the boys end up being scented with each summer filling your nose.

the two of you sit on the embankment just outside san’s house, legs dangling off the edge of the port. you can just barely toe the start of the sand but mingi easily shuffles his feet in it, drawing lazy patterns in your company. after a few minutes of peaceful silence, he nudges you gently albeit playfully, “did you want to ask me something?”

you chuckle at having been exposed and nudge him back in response. he never budges, torso bigger and more muscular than you can move, but it doesn’t stop you from trying and him from laughing endearingly.

“i asked yunho why you guys came down earlier this summer and he said to ask you,” you peer at him, treading carefully with your next words, “is everything okay?”

he takes a breath, exhaling long and slow. “i came out to my parents,” he reveals. “told them i’m bi and…they didn’t take it well.”

mingi doesn’t need to elaborate for you to understand that his parents didn’t just ‘not take it well’. you can only imagine the hell that broke loose. “oh, mingi,” you sigh, eyebrows knitting together with hurt.

“i also told them that i’m dati–”

the sound of the door opening and the call of your name stops mingi from finishing his sentence. it’s yunho with a ringing phone in his hand. “you might want to take this call,” he alerts you.

frowning, you make a stand to reach for your phone, asking, “who is it?”

he glances down awkwardly at the screen that is still on. “your boyfriend.”

you’re just about to slide the answer button when the call disconnects and you see that including the one that has just ended, you have four missed calls.

“oh, shit,” you can’t help the curse that slips out of your mouth. four missed calls is never a good sign from anybody, much less your boyfriend, who has also sent you several texts asking where you are.

seeing the darkening of your expression, yunho misses the girl whose biggest worry was the number of ice cream scoops to scam hongjoong out of. he misses the girl whose smile was brighter than the reflected sun on san’s surfboard. most of all, yunho misses the girl he has fallen in love with.

“y/n, i’m going to be honest with you,” he hesitates slightly. “i don’t think he’s the right one for you.”

you know that yunho’s looking out for you and his heart is in the right place, but it’s not what you want to– or need to hear right now. and perhaps, there’s an inkling of you that already knows. still, you try to keep your voice even when you reply, “i’d know if he’s not.”

you turn to mingi next and shoot him an apologetic look, “i’m sorry but i should probably call him back. we’ll talk later, yeah?”

mingi doesn’t know when later will be and neither do you. but he simply nods and lets you go, watching dejectedly as your form disappears back into your house at the same time san steps out of his. he had been carefully observing from the window the moment yunho had walked out with your incessantly ringing phone in his hand.

“guess he takes priority over us now,” mingi sighs.

san looks at him bittersweetly, “that’s what happens when you find somebody you love. like johnny is her priority, you are my priority and yunho’s. in fact, you’re the priority of five other people as well.” despite the fact that he is shorter, san still reaches up to flick mingi’s nose affectionately as he fondly states, “aren’t you lucky.”

mingi scrunches his nose in retaliation and san diverts the topic, “now come on, are you going to just stand back and let yunho win the game again?”

the younger grins, light returning to his eyes as he cheekily suggests, “you distract him while i cheat?”

“i’m right here,” yunho protests, but he’s shaking his head dotingly. together, he and mingi make their way back into the house, hands finding each other as they pass through the threshold.

san lingers behind and stares at the closed door of your house. for the longest time, you have been one of san’s priorities, if not the priority. over the last few years, the number of his priorities have steadily grown and you now share the top of the list in his heart with seven other boys. your happiness is san’s priority, as is the happiness of the others.

but what happens when interests start to conflict and your boyfriend– and by association, you– becomes a reason for unhappiness amongst the people he cares so dearly for? what happens if there comes a day where he must choose between his priorities and push somebody down the list, or worse…completely out of his heart?

you’re just as troubled when, half an hour after his missed calls and your subsequent response asking to meet up, you and johnny aimlessly wander the streets of the neighbourhood. the air is tense and despite the cry of cicadas, the silence from the lack of conversation is the only sound that you can hear. you can tell that he’s displeased by the fact that you had been with your friends, but you’re not exactly happy with him right now either.

you know an argument’s brewing– one that has been long coming, perhaps since the start of summer. you could have chosen to take the night to cool down, but it will eventually boil over one day, be it him or yourself. better to address it now than wait until it’s too late, and perhaps you can salvage it before it does boil over.

“why did you call me so many times?”

johnny knows you’re not only asking about tonight, and definitely not only about his phone calls. and yet, your tone is not accusatory, only genuinely curious and open to understanding his reasoning and emotions. solely because he feels guilt starting to prick his insides at your question does he make an attempt to reign in his childish jealousy that has reared its head so many times in the last two months.

“i didn’t know where you were,” he halfheartedly answers. “i thought something had happened.”

you both know it’s a lie– a pretty bad one at that. you had texted him just mere hours ago telling him that you would be at san’s. at his excuse, you raise an eyebrow.

“i don’t like the way they look at you,” johnny finally admits, partially showing his true colours. “especially san.”

you had guessed just as much and you can see why he might feel that way, but you want him to see where you’re coming from, too. “we grew up together, johnny. we’re each other’s best friend and he doesn’t like me like that.”

warm breath ghosting over your lips and then disappearing just as fast flits across your memory. “none of them do,” you emphasise. “and i’ve been transparent about hanging out with them when you’re not there, haven’t i? i literally texted you a few hours ago.”

he hesitates, “i was busy playing basketball with my friends. i missed your text and then you didn’t reply or answer my calls…” the way his voice drops off the more he talks is a good indicator that he knows the patheticness of his justification.

“and i was busy with my friends, too,” you reason. “you’re not glued to your phone, and neither am i.”

you continue when he stays silent, “you’re my boyfriend and i understand that it can make you feel uneasy when i hang out with so many guys, but you have to understand that they’re my friends, and my closest ones too. i would appreciate it if you give me more space when i’m with them, but i’ll also try to make sure i’m reachable on my phone so you have a piece of mind.”

you look at him and search his eyes for any indicators that he has more to say. from the way his jaw clenches subtly, you know that he’s disgruntled at best. but to your surprise he does not protest, instead nodding and walking you back to your house. you can’t tell whether the silence this time is slightly better or just as suffocating.

when you reach your front door, the lights are still on in the neighbouring house and you can hear the muted ruckus of laughter. as you unlock your door and pull it open, your boyfriend surprises you once more by calling out, “i love you.”

you learn a lot about a person simply from the things that they say, and sometimes–

“i know,” you reply gently, before shutting the door.

–you learn even more about a person simply from the things that they don’t say.

it’s two weeks after your conversation with johnny when he runs into some of the boys at one of the beachside cafes without your presence.

with autumn just around the corner, you’re spending the day transitioning the rice seedlings, now almost at the height of your thighs, from the wet paddies to the drier fields since your parents aren’t in namhae to do it. only mingi, yunho and jongho are helping you out; you had discovered the hard way last summer that letting all eight of them help you was, in fact, counterproductive when there were more plants being trampled on than safely moved.

and so while the four of you are working in the rice paddy, the remaining boys sit on the cafe terrace that overlooks the beach about a ten-minute drive from your and san’s houses. a hush suddenly falls over their conversation, elbows inconspicuously nudging one another and shoulders tensing when they spot your boyfriend making his way towards the cafe with a small group of his own friends.

a smirk graces johnny’s lips when his gaze falls upon the five of your friends, ignoring the courteous nod of acknowledgement that seonghwa attempts to make on their behalf and instead walking closer onto the cafe’s terrace. it’s not clearly audible, but it’s definitely direct enough for the boys to make out the words when johnny walks past and mutters, “fuckin’ pussies.”

wooyoung immediately reacts. “what the fuck did you just say?” he growls threateningly as seonghwa squeezes his thigh in anticipation of him standing up.

johnny pauses to look at them with faux innocence, “i wasn’t talking to you guys, but i guess if you’re offended–”

it’s hongjoong who rises to his feet first, chair screeching as it slides out from under his knees along the wooden deck. “you say one more fucking word,” he starts, eyes thunderous and fists turning white at his sides.

“and you’ll what,” johnny sneers, “run to my girlfriend crying? ask her to have a little talk with me?”

at the mention of you, both san and wooyoung join hongjoong on their feet. “watch what you say,” san looks at him dangerously. “don’t bring y/n into this.”

the commotion is starting to attract the attention of the staff and other customers in the cafe. seonghwa slowly stands, preparing to step in before it can escalate into something physical as yeosang grips the seat of his chair.

johnny steps closer and scoffs, “that’s bullshit. you guys can’t even take care of your own feelings so you have to hide behind my girlfriend like a bunch of pathetic losers. it makes no fucking sense for her to ask me to leave her alone when she’s with you guys.”

“and i bet it’s never fucking crossed your mind that maybe it’s an issue with something you’re doing–not us,” wooyoung reciprocates with his own bold step closer.

he’s suddenly jerked forward when johnny fists the front of his shirt and instantly everyone moves in towards the two. seonghwa wedges his arms against their chests to prevent wooyoung from getting dragged further forward, though the younger is fiercely standing his ground, teeth bared and eyes murderous. save for yeosang, who comes to stand protectively behind him, the remaining two boys are swept up into the beginnings of a scuffle as johnny’s friends step in as well.

“look at you, all riled up,” johnny goads, ignoring the hands that are trying to keep him subdued. “and she tells me that you don’t all want to fuck her?”

seonghwa inhales sharply as he attempts to overpower both wooyoung and hongjoong, who is now extremely determined to connect his fist with your boyfriend’s face. but to many of their infuriation, the fist doesn’t get a chance to hit its well-deserved target when there’s a firm shout over the commotion.

the cafe manager harshly warns, “we’re going to have to ask you all to leave the premises, otherwise we’re going to call the police.”

“wooyoung! hongjoong!” seonghwa hisses. “it’s not worth the trouble. stop!”

there are a few tense seconds of heaving chests and grinding jaws before johnny lets wooyoung go with a shove and hongjoong begrudgingly and slowly lowers his raised fist.

“you bitches got lucky this time,” johnny glowers. he beckons to his friends with a jerk of his head, still glaring at wooyoung, then kicks a chair out of his way as he leaves the cafe. in the wake of the confrontation, seonghwa turns to look at the manager and creases his eyebrows in apology, bowing multiple times to the other employees and customers too.

the manager nods wryly, “you and your friends are still going to have to leave.”

“we understand,” seonghwa replies, beginning to usher hongjoong and wooyoung towards the exit. “we’re truly sorry.”

as the five of them walk out, his eyes dart around anxiously in case your boyfriend and his friends are still lingering around. muscles taut and on edge, seonghwa makes a decision as the oldest. “let’s go home,” he declares, “we can wait there.”

they pile into the jeep wordlessly and san turns on the ignition, pulling out of the small car park and heading back to his. they’re only a few minutes away when wooyoung breaks the silence, “so who’s gonna tell y/n that her boyfriend’s a fucking asshole and that she needs to break up with his sorry ass?” he fumes. “because if no one’s going to do it, then i’m going to tell her the moment we get home.”

“wooyoung,” seonghwa starts.

“no, don’t wooyoung me,” he snaps. “he’s a fucking pretentious dickhead and she needs to know that. i don’t even care if we don’t ever get to talk about that other thing with her anymore. all i care is that he never gets to show his face in front of her ever again.”

seonghwa rubs his temples in frustration. he argues, “look, i agree with you and i’m not saying we shouldn’t tell y/n. but we need to put our feelings aside and think about this rationally, otherwise we could end up hurting her.”

“i think she’s going to get hurt regardless of how we approach it,” hongjoong snarks as the other levels him with a look.

“the campfire night is only a few days away,” yeosang points out. “maybe we should wait until that’s over…you know how excited she and mingi get about it each year.”

hongjoong protests, “and wait for her to bring johnny along on the day? sorry, but not even seonghwa is going to be able to stop me from sucker-punching him to the ground.”

“surely she’s not going to bring him. it’s a day just for us,” yeosang frowns.

san feels their questioning gazes settling on him and he glances in the rearview mirror to confirm his hunch. “i don’t know, probably not?” he answers whilst shrugging, turning into the small street that leads to your house. “but honestly? i think we should wait until after that day to talk to her. i don’t see the point in ruining it for any more of us.”

seonghwa agrees and adds on, “and only one of us should have the conversation with her. san, you’re probably the best person out of us.”

san hums in agreement, slowly braking the car to a stop before he turns in his seat to look at the rest of them. “i’ll find a time to talk to her and in the meantime,” he looks at wooyoung and hongjoong gently, knowing how frustrated they must be feeling, “we wait.”

there’s only a few more days until the campfire– they only need to hold out for a little longer until then. what could possibly go wrong?

“are you sure it’s a good idea to leave hongjoong and y/n to get the snacks together?”

seonghwa tenderly thumbs yeosang’s lips from out of his teeth, where he has been biting the corner of his lips in worry, and answers, “he’s hopeless at buying all the other things and she knows what snacks we like the best.” seonghwa knows hongjoong’s way of being confrontational is stark and direct, but he also has faith in the other that he won’t prematurely bring up your boyfriend and risk hurting you with the conversation.

you make your way down the snack aisles of the grocery store with hongjoong and it feels both familiar and foreign. there are no shopping cart races or invisible finish flags this time– only the two of you and the baskets in his hands as he carries whatever you pluck off the shelves. it’s been a while since you’ve had time alone with hongjoong; not since the incident last summer.

looking down at the shopping baskets, you put another packet of banana crisps in before commenting, “let’s get some sweet things and then that should be enough for the ten of us.”

hongjoong cocks his head, “haneul’s coming?”

“...no,” you look at him carefully, “johnny is.”

“johnny? you’re joking.”

you frown at the sudden coldness in his tone, “he’s my boyfriend, hongjoong.” johnny had been strangely adamant about going today and you had also noticed he seemed to be irritated about something. so quite frankly, you weren’t about to tell him no.

“and he’s also an asshole, you know that? why are you even dating him?”

you know your boyfriend and your friends still aren’t on amicable terms, but you’re honestly getting tired of feeling like you have to justify yourself and your dating life. and considering you have just had a talk with johnny to try and make things better for everyone, you can’t help but feel like you are being pushed into a corner yet again.

“asshole or not, at least he’s honest about his feelings for me,” you retort pointedly.

“oh?” hongjoong scoffs in disbelief, “is that what this is about?”

you challenge him with a glare, “what do you think i’m implying?”

“so i’m the bad guy now? i thought you liked me. since when did you stoop so low as to throw yourself at any guy who makes a move on you?”

your jaw drops. “you know what? what the fuck is your problem?” you shove his chest in anger. “let’s not forget that you were the one who tried to kiss me first and you were the one who also stopped. yeah, i did like you, but at least i’m willing to admit it.”

you step in closer, breathing heavy as you continue heatedly, “what about you? what the fuck have you done that makes you think you have any right to say that my decisions are wrong.”

hongjoong grits his teeth, “you’re making a mistake dating him.”

“yeah, you would know something about mistakes,” you throw back sarcastically. “but then again, you were probably happy to pretend it never happened and forget about it.”

“don’t fucking put words into my mouth,” he warns.

“it seems to be the only way i can get you to talk about us. you have no issues giving me shit about my relationship with my boyfriend, but when it comes to our relationship it’s radio silence for a year.”

hongjoong at least has the decency to look guilty when he declares, “i was going to talk to you about it face to face.”

“whatever, hongjoong. it’s too late,” you brush him off.

you snatch the baskets out his hands and walk away, no longer concerned over what snacks the boys will have for the campfire later tonight. you just want to get away from hongjoong, so you do exactly that. you leave him alone in the aisle to stare at the view of your back walking further away from him. life is all about timing and hongjoong has long missed his.

hours later, mingi scans the room from where he’s perched on a stool at the kitchen island in your house. everyone is either lounging around, preparing the meat and cutlery or setting up the grill and table outside– everyone except for one.

“where’s hongjoong?” he asks nobody in particular. he doesn’t think he’s seen the other since they’ve all come back from the grocery store.

“he’s resting in my room,” san answers. “said he wasn’t feeling too well but he’ll join us later.”

you roll your eyes at the knives you’re counting out, opting to keep your mouth shut. what san doesn’t say either, though, is that he knows something is off– hongjoong was completely fine this morning and you were definitely in higher spirits.

there’s an abrupt knock at your front door and you put the cutlery down, saying, “i’ll get it.” you know it’s probably johnny so you don’t bother squinting through the peephole before pulling the door open and blinking, “you look nice today.”

your boyfriend has styled his hair so that it slicks back from his forehead, parted down the right side of his scalp. he’s dressed in his usual smart casual fit but has chosen to pair it with accessories to accentuate his collarbones and wrists. he shrugs, “wanted to look good.”

you lead him to the open kitchen and immediately, you notice the shift in the air. a few of the boys give a tight-lipped smile in acknowledgement, but the expressions on wooyoung and san, and even yeosang and seonghwa go blank or two shades darker. hongjoong’s uncharacteristic cold feet suddenly makes a lot of sense to san now.

“you invited johnny?” san’s question is eerily monotone. a blunt knife may not be able to cut through rope, but with continuous abrasion and chafing, even the thickest of ropes will eventually sever.

your voice is not entirely friendly when you reply, “yes, san. i invited my boyfriend.”

“and why the fuck did you do that?”

san’s swearing has you reeling in surprise, but it’s quickly replaced by pent-up stress and anger that has been lingering for weeks and exacerbated by your argument with hongjoong mere hours ago. your entire body starts to heat up when san continues to criticise, “we’ve put up with him for long enough, don’t you think? it’s one thing for you to date him of all people, but it’s another thing to bring him to this.”

you laugh bitingly, no longer concerned about trying to deal with this maturely. all you can think about is how san is hurting you and how you want to hurt him back too. “so you can bring whoever the fuck you want each year, but i can’t bring my own boyfriend?” you retort.

the silence is deafening. nobody moves as they try to process the words that have just been thrown at them. yunho’s eyes are wide with confusion more than hurt at how quickly this argument has escalated, and he slowly raises his arms out in front of him, “okay, i think we all need to–”

“whoever the fuck–are we just ‘whoever’ to you?” wooyoung harshly interrupts. “we’ve been trying to look out for you and this is what we fucking get in return?”

you know that you won’t be able to take your words back after you say them, but they slip out anyway as you counter, “i didn’t ask any of you to look out for me.”

yunho’s arms fall limply to his sides and seonghwa looks away. wooyoung’s words are resigned and stony when he stares at you dead in the eye and says, “you know, y/n. we needed this trip this summer…more than anything. but thanks for ruining it for all of us.” then he brushes past your shoulder and slams the front door on his way out.

one by one, the boys follow him out of your house– first yeosang, then seonghwa, neither of them able to look you in the eye. when yunho and jongho hesitantly walk past you as well, they give you a small, apologetic wince. 

mingi still stands in the room. he has been quiet throughout the entire argument but his eyes tell a story of a million words. he’s filled with hurt and sorrow if not obvious by the wetness that starts to well in his eyes. “i guess you were just saying it when you told me i have a home here with you in namhae,” he chokes out.

your own eyes grow hot as you shake your head, “mingi, that’s not–”

but he leaves before you can say anything else. turning back towards the interior of your house– now looking far too spacious and vast without one of your friends occupying every available surface– you are left alone with just san and johnny. the heat of the fight is quickly slipping away, instead rushing all towards your eyes, and you call out san’s name. what for, you don’t know, but your cry is timid and desperate.

as much as it pains san to make a decision, mingi needs him– his boys need him, and they are his priority now. right there and then, san discovers for himself his final answer when it comes to choosing between love and friendship. he walks out of your house, turning his back on you.

you jolt awake feeling disorientated. your head feels clouded, eyes blurry from swelling and you’re still in the clothes from last night that you don’t recall falling asleep in. reaching for your phone, you wonder whether it has already ticked past noon for you to have woken up on your own, except you find that its dead. you roll over with a groan and plug your phone into its charger, then haul yourself upwards.

you rinse the stale taste out of your mouth before walking out to the living room and immediately, you’re hit with the memories and intense emotions of last night. there are packets of raw meat still unopened and bottles of soju still littering the table that you hadn’t tidied up. in the aftermath of the argument, you had told johnny to give you some space and to go home. you had then gone straight to your bedroom, covering yourself with the blankets in an attempt to hide yourself from the world and cried out your sorrows until you exhausted yourself to sleep.

you let out a long and heavy sigh, soul still exhausted to the very core, so you turn back towards your bedroom. you’ll clean everything up when you’re feeling a little more confident to face the consequences of last night. sitting on the edge of your bed, you reach for your phone. there are a few texts from johnny that you scroll past when something else catches your eye.

it’s a text from jongho, timestamped for 1:17 am. you and the boys rarely have a reason to message each other individually, preferring to use the group chat since there are no secrets shared. although, you suppose, none of you will be using the group chat for a while…

you tap on jongho’s notification. instantly, your heart drops all the way to the bottom of your stomach and past it. you think your heart is down in the fucking ground, because–

hey, wasn’t sure if you’d want to know or not but i think we’re going back to seoul in the morning

the numbers in the corner of your phone tell you that it’s already eleven thirty, and that’s when you hear it– the noise that had woken you up earlier. the distinct slam of a car boot closing shut. you jolt up to your feet, panic coursing through your veins as blood rushes to your ears and drowns out all rational thoughts. you forgo any shoes and throw your front door open to run outside, uncaring of the grit that digs painfully into the soles of your feet.

a brief flash of relief flickers across jongho’s face at your appearance but you miss it in your frenzy to make sense of what you are seeing. all three of their cars are parked in a line, their surfboards already strapped and secured to the car hoods or in the bed of the ute. the last of their luggage and duffel bags are being loaded and san is locking his front door.

every summer, the boys wait until the last possible second to leave, to the point where you have to forcibly push them towards their cars with fond laughter. it’s only thursday today and summer doesn’t end for another three days, and yet–

“you guys are leaving?” you ask apprehensively.

nobody answers you immediately. the only sound that punctuates the silence is the forceful slam of a door as wooyoung enters the car. hongjoong accidentally makes eye contact with you and his eyes narrow before he opens the door to his ute and also disappears.

jongho clears his throat awkwardly, “yeah, we’re heading back early.”

“oh…” you’re at a loss for words, unsure of how to react to this situation. “drive safe.”

like a parallel of last night, the boys enter their respective cars one by one, jongho giving you a subtle wave. guilt stifles you for the things you have said to the boys and you’re also consumed by hurt from the things they have said to you. but you know for certain that you cannot just let this friendship fall through the cracks like this.

as san makes his way to his jeep, which is parked at the front of the line as the lead driver, you watch carefully for any sign that things are still salvageable for your friendship. a smile, a glance, a nod– anything. but he simply pulls his jeep door open like you are invisible.

you hesitantly ask him, “i’ll see you next summer?”

san is expressionless but he may as well be glaring at you when he replies, “don’t count on it,” and for the second time of your life, he turns his back on you.

as san buckles his seatbelt in, trying his goddamn hardest to pretend he doesn’t see the tears now beginning to fall from your eyes, he tells himself that you’ve made your decision and he’s made his. he has chosen his priorities and will give you up, and yet, still he hopes that one day you’ll realise you deserve better and break up with johnny. san hopes that you’ll come across somebody more than better, even if it cannot be him.

before yunho also gets into the jeep, he pauses in front of you. he fists the sides of his pants to stop himself from reaching out to wipe your tears away. instead, he consoles, “i think we all just need a little bit of time, yeah?”

you nod numbly at his words. you’re forced to take several steps back out of the way after yunho also shuts his door closed and the engines hum to life in succession. unable to do anything, you can only watch helplessly as san’s jeep starts to pull away and the other two cars also follow.

“they’re finally leaving, huh.”

there’s only one person who would have amusement laced into those words. refusing to turn around in your state, you exhale shakily, “not now, johnny.”

“you honestly need better friends. everyone has a stick up their ass in that group,” he comments.

“i said not now,” you warn again, blinking the rest of your tears away when you feel anger creeping up in its stead.

“i should’ve just punched them when i had the chance to.”

you whip around to face him and yell, absolutely appalled, “johnny!”

“what?” he scowls. “they were the ones who started it.”

you grow deathly still. “started what?” you interrogate, and when he doesn’t let up, you step in closer. “johnny?”

“look, i ran into some of them the other day. that little fucker–wooyoung? he was basically asking to be punched. he’s lucky i let him off the hook,” he sneers.

you’ve known wooyoung longer than you have known johnny and you honestly find your boyfriend’s recount hard to believe. yes, wooyoung is hot-headed and rash, but he never reacts unless he has been provoked. or in other cases, his loved ones have been provoked.

“don’t you fucking dare call my friends fuckers,” you growl. is this who your boyfriend truly is? is this the person who your friends have been able to see through all this time?

“are you fucking serious right now?” johnny spits in your face, “you’re defending them? you always take their fucking side even though i’m your boyfriend.”

you spit right back, “and you know what? that was my biggest mistake. i should have never made you my boyfriend.”

johnny’s expression drops entirely. “are you breaking up with me right now?”

“yes, i am.” you confirm. “we’re over.”

you turn on your heel and for once, you are glad that he has shown up at your house, because it means you are a mere ten feet away from shutting your now-ex out of your life. you fumble with the door, vision rapidly blurring, then walk through and close it behind you. slowly, you lean back against the door. with nothing grounding you anymore, the tears escape your eyes once more and you don’t bother trying to hold back your cries.

all too fast, everything has come to a full circle of hurt. johnny turned his back on your friends, your friends turned their backs on you, and you have now turned your back on johnny. your chest shudders and heaves at the realisation, wondering where it all went wrong.

you want to seek out one of the boys for comfort– seonghwa or san– but you only end up dropping to your hands and knees, head dizzy from how hard you begin to sob, when you realise that that’s no longer an option. you all need time apart, both yourself and the boys. you know. but it’s much easier for them because they are going back to seoul together as their group of eight. they still have each other to lean on for comfort, whereas you are left behind to nurse your own wounds by yourself.

in the quiet of your house with the end of summer approaching in namhae, for the first time since meeting san, you are truly alone. it no longer feels like the nine of you against the world and whatever it may bring. instead, it’s you against the world…and the eight of them.

haneul takes all but one look at you before she’s making herself comfortable on your couch, tugging a cushion into her lap and patting the space beside her with a commanding air of authority. her expression tells you that there’s no room for argument, so you sink into the couch next to her.

the bewilderment must be obvious on your face when she asks you to spill what happened with san, because she simply reveals, “san messaged the family chat when he arrived back in seoul. and we all know he would give up surfing before voluntarily leaving namhae early.”

you slouch in on yourself, “we fought.”

as surprising as it is to hear, since she’s never seen you and san argue before, haneul had an inkling that that was the case after her little brother’s vague reasons. she probes, “about what?”

you tell her about everything. how you started dating johnny, how the boys came early for the summer and how you tried to get them on friendly terms. how your friends were constantly telling you to break up with him and how your boyfriend was always unhappy about you spending time with them. you tell her about the near-kiss with hongjoong last summer and the confrontation you had with him this summer. the argument you had with all the boys and the break up with johnny. everything.

haneul’s quiet for a while as she tries to piece together your story and her own thoughts. “did they ever tell you why they were so against you dating him?” she finally questions.

you shake your head and she asks, “then did you try talking to them about it?”

you slowly shake your head again, slightly ashamed by your own answer. you had been so focused on finding fault in the different ways the boys could have expressed their disapproval regarding your boyfriend that you didn’t think of the multiple opportunities you had to work out why those opinions existed in the first place.

“what do you think of it all, then? obviously, you would have broken up with johnny for a reason–or did the criticism from the boys just become too much?

fiddling with the hem of your shirt, you look down at your lap. “he was a decent guy…up until summer and the boys came over. that’s when he started acting differently and,” you pause, trying to find a nicer phrase before giving up and settling on, “became an asshole.”

she nods, waiting as you elaborate, “he became more overbearing and possessive, especially when i was hanging out with them when he wasn’t present. and he was just always so pissed. he was dead serious about getting into a physical fight with wooyoung. and we both know that none of the boys would ever start a fight for no reason, much less a fistfight, so johnny had to be the instigator.”

the way that you are solely picking out the faults of your ex does not go unnoticed by haneul. “y/n,” she stares at you seriously. “are you upset about your break up, or your argument with the boys?”

her question stuns you because it’s quite obviously both, but she stops your reflexive response with the instruction, “think about it before you answer me.”

you close your mouth and look at your lap again to actually process your own thoughts and feelings. what are you thinking and feeling? johnny…you had sort of known already that he would not be a constant in your life for much longer. from the moment you had started comparing him against the other boys, it was already the beginning of the end.

but san and the others? they are and have been the sun to your solar system for years; your providers of vitality, warmth and summer who you cannot live without. there’s a constant, gravitational pull that keeps you all together, except the balance has now been thrown off entirely. you realise what the answer was all along and you quietly admit, “the argument.”

she places a hand over yours, comfortingly stroking your knuckles as she sympathises, “i think so too.”

promptly, you feel your eyes pricking with the sting of tears and in a moment of fragile vulnerability, you plead to haneul in a shaky voice, “what am i going to do without them?”

“come here,” she whispers.

she pulls you into her, your body immediately going slack in her embrace. you cling onto her like a lifeline, afraid that you are going to drown in your cries of anguish. you don’t know how long you stay buried in her chest grieving for the friendships you have lost, but your neck and back are sore with stiffness by the time you calm down. still, she doesn’t let go of you– not until you make the first move to pull away.

haneul continues to stroke your hair, soft shushing noises as she rocks you back and forth with her. when your shuddering breaths have resided and steadied out, she breaks the silence softly, “y/n, i think there’s more to your heartache and regret than just feeling like you’ve lost your closest friends.”

your throat is scratchy when you mumble, “what do you mean?”

“i can’t tell you because that’s something that you’re going to have to work out for yourself. but after you figure out your own feelings, talk to them. communication is the first step to solving any problem, and i think you’ve realised just how much miscommunication could have been avoided leading up to the argument.”

you know she’s right, but your chest shrivels up on itself in fear. “what if they don’t answer my messages or calls? what if they really don’t come back next summer?” what if they hate me forever?

haneul rests her cheek on the crown of her head, “if they take a step back, then why don’t you take two steps forward?”

her words slowly sink in and when they do, you inch out of her embrace. haneul cannot help the smile that adorns her own face in tandem with the one that starts to peek out along your lips. your face is still red and blotchy but there is now a ray of emerging hope as your voice trails off, “you mean…”

“yes, y/n,” haneul nods. you feel goosebumps spreading across your body when she affirms your thoughts.

“go to seoul and talk to them.”

summer passes and autumn comes. the days grow shorter as the nights become longer and the weeks blur into a haze of monochrome darkness. the leaves and flowers fall off the trees, nature gradually stagnating and waning into nonexistence, much like the groupchat you share with the boys that has remained untouched since summer.

in a feverish state of resolution the very same day you had cried in haneul’s arms, you had booked an express bus trip that would take you directly from namhae to seoul. yet, despite telling yourself every weekend that you’ll make the trip, the ticket remains unused. whenever you see your last message to san– a meek question asking if he had arrived back in seoul fine– that continues to stay unread, your courage crumples and you reschedule the date for the following weekend.

the cycle repeats itself well into autumn. that is, until he breaks it.

you’ve spent the last few days thinking about this very moment. there are only a few minutes left until midnight, which will mark the end of jongho’s birthday. you’re unable to count the number of times you have opened his chat, typed out a message, then exited without actually sending it.

currently, the text cursor in jongho’s chat blinks back at you like your own indecisiveness wavering back and forth between messaging him and not. the minute ticks over once more– it’s now or never. you let your thumbs skim across the surface of your phone before you can contemplate any further. it’s a simple message; only reading two lines.

happy birthday jongho how have you been?

really, you mean ‘how have you all been?’ because you cannot care about one of them without also caring about the others.

you lock the screen and toss your phone to the side, pretending you don’t care whether he replies or not, as if your phone is capable of sensing anxiousness and will sabotage his incoming messages– that is, if any come at all. but jongho’s last messages to you had been the ones alerting you that he and the boys would be leaving namhae prematurely. surely an indicator that this friendship isn’t entirely lost.

the lecture slides on your laptop may as well be written in a foreign language as you restlessly eye your phone, wondering if he has seen your messages. you know it will be fruitless to continue studying, so you steel yourself for disappointment and reach for your phone. to your surprise, there’s a reply waiting for you.

thanks y/n, i’ve been good

it’s simple and only five words, but that in itself speaks volumes to your relationship. your heart skips a beat when the messages in his chat shift upwards once more as a new text comes in like an afterthought.

i miss you

really, jongho means ‘we all miss you’ because you can be angry at someone, feel hurt by them, yet still love them all the same.

his confession stuns you frozen, your fingers hovering in place over your keyboard. it fills you with longing for more and hope for what may come, but also fear for what could happen. jongho has taken a small step to meet you halfway and you are absolutely terrified of messing things up once more. with your heart pounding in your chest, you carefully type out your next message, send it and then hold your breath.

can we call?

your fingers repetitively trace the rim of your phone case back and forth as you wait for a reply. there’s a rising swell of panic that continues to grow when nothing comes and you even exit and reopen the app. what you don’t know is that jongho almost trips onto his face in his hurry to untangle his legs from out of his blanket so that he can lock himself in the bathroom to call you without waking the others.

the phone nearly falls out of your grasp when the screen suddenly lights up not with a message but a call. you let it ring for a few seconds to gather your own composure before sliding the button to nervously answer, “hello?”

“hello?” comes jongho’s reply.

your voices overlap as you both simultaneously talk, “can you hear me–” “hi–yes, can you hear me?”

“yeah, i can hear you too, hi,” you breathe out, face breaking out into a smile.

the exchange has jongho letting out a giggle and the sound immediately releases all the tension that has built up in your body. your eyes start to mist over as you let out your own bashful laughter, because it is so much more than just missing the sound of jongho’s happiness. you’re reminded of crashing waves and windswept fringes; heavy surfboards and helping hands– the summer days when everything was happier and simpler. how did everything end up the way it has?

“thank you for replying to my message, jongho,” your voice is unsteady.

he must hear the way your throat threatens to close in on itself, because his voice is warm-hearted when he tells you, “no, thank you for reaching out first.” and as much as he finds it difficult to express himself, his next words spill out easily. “sorry i didn’t do it first…it must have been hard for you all this time.”

and just like that, so comes the first of many owed apologies. it doesn’t matter that you have to be awake in five hours to make it to your first lecture, nor that you don’t have a perfected script for all the things you want to apologise for. and it doesn’t matter that jongho is starting to feel cold sitting on the bathroom floor, nor that he can’t hold you like he wants to do. what does matter is that you’re both talking again.

as the night grows older, the conversation eventually flows away from raw confessions of your hearts to familiar topics of your mundane lives. it feels like the normal phone calls you used to have with the boys, except this time it’s only with jongho.

“what about you? have you been busy?”

you nod, even though he can’t see you over the call, “i’m trying to keep up with classes but it’s hard with all the assignments due soon.”

“yeah, i have another huge film project and it’s taking up all of my time, too,” he exhales, then tentatively asks, “what about…how’re things with johnny?”

it’s strangely exciting to clarify, “we actually broke up a few months ago.”

you can hear jongho’s sharp inhale even from over the phone. the conspiratorial tone of his voice painfully reminds you of wooyoung’s nosiness as jongho asks, “please tell me you broke up with him and not the other way round.”

“yes, i broke up with him,” you chuckle. “he talked shit about you guys the moment you all left, so i dumped him.”

“he deserved it,” he gleefully states.

“only i get to mess with my friends…literally.”

the joke is at the expense of yourself, but it feels uplifting to be able to start laughing about it now that you have started making amends, even if it is only with one person so far. knowing you have somebody on your side makes all the difference in the world.

“it’s actually sort of funny you say that,” jongho muses over the phone. “remember that truth or dare question? the one about choosing between love and friendship?”

you hum in affirmation, “san and i picked love.”

“and look at you, picking us over johnny,” he teases.

huffily, you banter, “picked you guys even though you all left me.”

there’s the tinkle of laughter from over the receiver, but it’s cut short by a faint knock. you hear jongho murmuring to somebody before his voice becomes audible again, “hey, sorry, i need to go now. someone needs to use the bathroom.”

you resist the urge to ask why he’s even there in the first place, but you just tell him that it’s okay, considering how late the time is anyway.

“i’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

“yeah, tomorrow,” you affirm. the wide smile on your face makes your cheeks ache as you grip the phone to your ear and wait for him to hang up. you hear the sound of rustling as he stands up and turns the doorknob, then there’s a voice in the background asking, “is that y/n?”

but before you can try to discern who the voice belongs to, the call ends. you don’t let the slight disappointment dampen your spirits though and you fall back to lie on top of your bed. jongho’s last words to you have made you feel like a giddy teenager– tomorrow feels too far away.

but his words before his last words also make you feel like a teenager. only it’s not giddiness but the uncertainty and confusion that comes with adolescence as you try to navigate and understand your own feelings about something. in the face of the situation, had you truly chosen friendship over love contrary to your own expectations?

it makes sense at first to think that’s what has happened, but you’re suddenly reminded of haneul’s words– that there is more to your heartache and regret than just feeling like you have lost your closest friends, and that you need to figure out your own feelings before talking to the boys. if you have stood by your own values and chosen love over friendship, then that means…the heartbreak that you feel is grief not for lost friendship, but loss of your first loves– because you are in love with all of them.

that spark of feelings that had remained for the boys had never become fully extinguished. when you agreed to date johnny, perhaps it was only because he had reminded you of them and you had mistaken the flutters in your stomach for romantic attraction to him. and so, left unattended, that very spark has now flourished into a wildfire that can no longer be controlled, neither can it be contained– it’s time for you to talk to them.

you pick up your phone again and send out a message, this time with no hesitation. it reads, ‘i need your help’.

and the reply is immediate.

anything you need

it’s the first day of winter when you arrive in seoul.

you get off the express bus at the terminal with both hands empty and only the bag on your back; you don’t plan on staying for long so you didn’t bring much with you. immediately, your breath fogs up in the frigid air and you nestle more snugly into the warmth of your coat. there’s a reasonable crowd of people at the terminal, so you crane your neck in search of jongho’s familiar tuft of brown hair, who had offered to pick you up knowing that this was your first time travelling up to seoul.

the last text he had sent told you that he had arrived and was waiting for you at terminal six. as you make your way closer, eyes squinting to discern whether you are seeing things correctly, you think you’re able to make out jongho’s side profile leaning against a brick wall.

except, he’s not alone. your footsteps start to falter because seonghwa is also there. ironically, he’s the one who spots you from afar. he pushes himself away from the wall and turns his body towards you as jongho questions whether he has spotted you.

ever since the night he had overheard the younger on a phone call with you, seonghwa has been aching to make things right with you again. he had been afraid that you would want nothing to do with them anymore and that you would slip away from their fingers just like that. but here you are in seoul, just a mere distance away from him.

seonghwa’s eyes start to water and your expression crumples almost immediately with his when he opens his arms with an offer of an embrace. his feet rush to close the distance when you throw yourself into his chest, the cashmere of his coat rubbing softly against your cheek.

“i’m sorry, hwa” you murmur.

“i know,” he whispers, stroking the back of your head, “me too.”

jongho silently watches with a small smile and allows you both to have your moment of reconciliation with each other. as you breathe in the comfortingly familiar scent of seonghwa’s cologne, you gesture for the other to come closer so that you can pull him into a group hug. and here, surrounded by both of them, despite there being several other things you want to say– poems of apologies and ballads of confessions– for now, this is more than enough.

seonghwa is the first to pull away suddenly as if he has been electrocuted. “hang on, are you and johnny still…” he trails off.

despite the snort of amusement that leaves you, you’re touched by his thoughtfulness to maintain respectful boundaries. “don’t worry, we broke up,” you reassure him, then you jokingly turn to jongho with an incredulous look. “you told him i was coming up to seoul, but didn’t tell him that johnny’s my ex now?”

he rolls his eyes good-naturedly, “that wasn’t in my place to reveal. plus, seonghwa was the one who looked over my shoulder and saw your text asking for my help.”

said man pretends to walk away innocently. you and jongho laugh, trailing after him towards the carpark as you ask, “what was he doing in your dorm anyway?”

“he crashed for the night. our dorm’s close to his workplace.”

when you reach their parked car, seonghwa tugs the passenger door open, but instead of hopping in he gestures for you to go first. you indulge in his chivalry with a chuckle, even more so when he places a hand along the top of the door frame in case you bump into it.

“thanks, hwa,” you say sweetly, shuffling in further when he scoots in after you and leaves jongho alone to sit at the front of the car.

“great, not even ten minutes of making up with each other and i’ve already become the third wheel,” jongho grumbles as he turns the ignition on.

despite the huffiness in his voice, jongho’s heart sings with happiness to see you and seonghwa already getting along like normal. he is willing to be the third wheel– even the ninth wheel– if it means that you and his boys can shine together every day. but for that to happen, it all rests on how the next hour unfolds.

“ready to go?” jongho asks, eyeing you from the rearview mirror.

are you? are you ready to talk to all of the boys at the same time? seonghwa gives your hand a gentle squeeze, and jongho nods at you reassuringly from the front; you’re not going into this alone anymore. you nod, “i’m ready.”

the drive takes less than thirty minutes and before you know it, you’re standing right outside the door to jongho’s shared dorm with wooyoung and hongjoong. jongho swipes and unlocks the door with his access card, however makes no move to push the door open. the fact that neither of the boys say anything to rush you spurs you on with enough determination to enter the dorm. the volume of their chatter increases immediately without the barrier of the door, and you take slow, hesitant steps along the short hallway towards the direction of the sound.

you appreciate when jongho takes the lead to subtly show you where to go but it still feels like you are intruding– which, you technically are, considering two out of three people who live here don’t know that you’re in the dorm right now. rounding the corner of the hallway, you discover that it leads straight to the living room where all of the boys currently are. so it’s fucking awkward when the sight of you emerging completely kills the conversation and a collective hush settles over the room.

you have to fight everything within you not to turn on your heel and just flee, because nothing has prepared you for their initial reaction. you hate the fact that you cannot tell whether the shocked expressions on yunho and yeosang’s faces are ones of delight or displeasure. you hate the way that wooyoung and hongjoong’s bodies tense and become guarded, ready to tell you to leave their dorm. but more than anything, you hate the way that san and mingi cannot even look at you.

“holy shit,” yunho whispers.

that’s enough to set off the others and hongjoong angrily questions, “what the fuck is she doing here?”

wooyoung looks at jongho, “is this why you told everyone to come over?”

you defend, “i was the one who asked jongho for help.”

“i wasn’t talking to you–”

you cut wooyoung off, contrary to your next words, “can you just shut the fuck up for once? i’m not here to start another fight. just–hear me out, please. i’ll leave as soon as i say what i need to.”

he glares at you and everybody holds their breath as they steel themselves for another full-blown argument. but wooyoung does as you ask and folds his arms angrily. nobody speaks, waiting for you to talk as you finally put your bag down and sit a safe distance away.

you close your eyes and take a breath to compose yourself. you refuse to let yourself cry this time. you’ve done plenty of that in the last few months and you have finally come to terms with your own feelings. “i…i’m sorry,” you start.

somebody scoffs, but you ignore it and let the words from your heart take over. “i’m sorry for being such an asshole over the summer–for letting my ex get in between us and for ignoring all the times you told me he wasn’t a good guy. i shouldn’t have assumed that you were all okay with me bringing him along whenever we hung out and i should have asked before inviting him to the campfire. that was something special for us and it was selfish of me to do that.

“in particular, i’m sorry for how that night went down. i know it doesn’t excuse what i did, but i had an argument with hongjoong earlier that day and i was feeling strung tight. i wish i had handled the situation better when i felt confronted about bringing johnny along, and i acknowledge that the words i said can’t be taken back, even if i didn’t mean them.”

nobody needs reminding of the words that you are referring to, because it has sat just as heavily in their hearts as it has your own. the sight of mingi ducking his head down even further has your heart clenching painfully.

even if he isn’t looking, you apologise to him directly, “mingi, i’m sorry we never got to finish our talk. i know that you were going through a hard time and that that trip was meant to be something healing for you–for all of you. namhae was meant to be an escape, but it probably didn’t feel that way…because of me. i mean it when i say you’ll always have a home in namhae and i hope that one day, you’ll be able to trust me on that. in fact, i hope that you all know that namhae is not the same without either one of you boys.”

you hesitate, because not even jongho knows about what you’re going to say next. you avert your gaze to focus on the carpet just in front of you so that you don’t have to see their expressions. “it’s taken this fight–almost losing all of you–and breaking up with my ex to realise just how stupid and blind i am to my own feelings. i always thought i would be happy with just being friends…but you are all so, so much more to me than just friends and ‘whoever’. i think i’m in love with all of you and i know it’s unconventional, but…i guess love has no limits.

“but i’m also going to be honest. i’m still hurt by the things some of you said or did. it hurt that some of you criticised my decisions without thinking about how that might have made me feel. and i know it wasn’t your intention to, but i felt like i was being backed into a corner multiple times when you kept repeating the same things over and over again about my ex without any real constructiveness to your words.

“i don’t expect you to apologise right now, nor accept my apology, and i don’t expect any of you to respond to my confession. i want you all to have enough time to work out your own feelings…if you want to. if you find it in your heart to forgive me and if you want to apologise, pursue friendship again or…maybe something more, then come to namhae and tell me in person.”

there’s half a year left until summer, and as much as things can change in six months, you also hope that this gives you and the boys time to work out what you all truly want from one another– be it friendship or love. nobody moves or says anything, trying to process everything you have said so you decide to leave them to it, having done your part. you make a move to stand and sling your bag onto your back.

“you’re leaving already? where are you going?” yeosang abruptly asks, standing as well.

“back to namhae,” you explain. “i booked a return ticket for the same day.”

san frowns and for the first time since you arrived, he looks at you. “you came all the way here…just to talk to us for half an hour?”

you give him a bittersweet smile, “that’s how important this is to me–how important you all are to me.”

he looks away, unable to hold your gaze. you turn to jongho to ask if he is still happy to drop you back off at the terminal, who nods and begins to pull on his puffer jacket.

“wait,” yeosang calls out. he skitters off down the corridor, socked feet pattering against the floor as he grabs something from his bedroom and hurries back in front of you. “here.”

he has a thick scarf that he holds out for you to take, but as you start to reach for it, he changes his mind. you hold your breath as yeosang carefully reaches over your head to drape the scarf around you. with tender hands, he wraps it around your neck before securing it with a knot. he continues to fiddle with the ends of the scarf and you’re starting to wonder why he is hesitating when he looks at you shyly and mumbles something under his breath. before you can make a noise of confusion, he darts off once again back into his room. seonghwa cannot help but smile fondly, because even if he is unable to hear what the other said either, he knows what yeosang means purely by his actions.

you’re accompanied out of the door by jongho minutes later, carrying a plastic bag of snacks and drinks from their dorm that seonghwa has rushed to put together for you to have on your way back. when you’re in the car, you also find a pair of black gloves in the pocket of your coat. you have no idea who put it there, but the sentiment of one of the boys trying to ensure you are not cold is enough to fill your entire body with warmth.

you may have arrived in seoul with both hands empty and only the bag on your back, but you leave seoul with their quiet acts of apologies and forgiveness on your hands, neck, and in the plastic bag sitting on your lap as your bus pulls away back to namhae.

a lot can change in six months, but a lot can also stay the same. it all balances on the peak of the fulcrum, waiting to teeter either way as summer arrives.

you’ve kept in touch with jongho and seonghwa, so you haven’t been left in the dark anxiously wondering whether they will be returning to namhae or not. but even with their arrival, the uncertainty remains as to which way the scale has– or will tip.

so you don’t walk out to greet them when you hear the resounding slam of shutting doors and the low hum of exchanged conversation, because you don't know whether the other boys want to see you or not. plus, there’s something embarrassing about seeing them for the first time after apologising, much less confessing to them without any certainty as to their feelings, and much much less to eight people at once. you’re doing a pretty good job at hiding and pretending you are completely oblivious to their arrival in namhae.

that is, until mingi knocks on your door. mingi feels like he’s fourteen again, knocking on yunho’s door and crossing his fingers hoping to god that it’s his friend who opens it and not his parents, because mingi feels embarrassed asking them every day if yunho can come out to play. this time, though, mingi’s nervous because it’s you and he’s nervous because six months is a long time where feelings can change. he hopes that yours are still the same.

you’re greeted by a shock of platinum white hair when you open your door and you realise it’s mingi with freshly bleached hair. it looks good– a little too good– and you have to force yourself to peel your eyes away. except your eyes travel down involuntarily to the contrasting black of his tank top, which is at least two sizes too large and dips down dangerously to reveal the shadows of his chest. you’re down bad, and it’s only been ten seconds since you’ve laid eyes on him since seoul.

mingi is looking at you amusedly when you finally lock eyes with him and he seems to stand a little straighter with confidence. he beckons with a gentle tilt of his head, “come surf with us?”

the casualness of his invite throws you off and you wonder if you’ve somehow missed the memo that he’s forgiven you. “you’re all okay with me coming?” you blink confusedly.

“the others can speak for themselves,” he puts it plainly, but then smiles, “i want you to come, though. it’s not the same without you. plus,” his voice mellows out earnestly, “someone’s gotta welcome me home, don’t you think?”

home. home is where the heart is, and for mingi, regardless of the arguments and fights, his heart will always be with the boys and you. because in anger, hurt and love, there is always forgiveness, and mingi has forgiven you.

shyly, you return his smile, “i’ll go get changed, then?”

“is that an invite inside?” mingi leans against the doorframe with faux coyness that manages to make the rounds of your cheeks heat up. you shove him back lightly with a laugh, trying to ignore the firmness of his chest under your touch.

he grins boyishly, utterly pleased with himself, but steps back so you can close the door. “take your time,” he reassures. “i’ll wait for you.”

and he does, just so that you don’t have to walk alone to join the rest of the group. even after you have thrown on a swimsuit and slathered yourself with sunscreen as best as you can, mingi is still outside and yunho has also joined him– you know because you can hear them talking as you search for your house keys in the hallway.

“what if it’s too late?” yunho asks.

“you don’t know that, not until you try,” mingi replies. “here, a kiss for good luck.”

you have no idea what the context for this conversation is, but it suddenly strikes you that apart from mingi, you’ve never discussed sexual orientation with the boys. you may have asked them to consider you romantically, but you can’t say for sure if they even like girls. from what you know, none of them have dated before, and now you’re suddenly wondering whether any of the boys are dating within the group. mingi and yunho are certainly a possibility.

but regardless, you realise this is probably not something you should be discovering by overhearing a conversation, so you deliberately drop your keys to alert them of your presence and wait a couple more seconds before you open your front door.

for the second time of the day, you’re absolutely floored. yunho has dyed his hair an ash grey and it falls over his forehead and down the nape of his neck in messy locks. there must have been a fucking enticing buy-one-get-one-free deal, because he’s also wearing a black tank top much like mingi’s, except his is form-fitting and putting every damned muscle of his upper body on glorified display.

not that you’re complaining. but it’s also very distracting when you’re trying to focus on what mingi is saying as you all make your way down the beach towards the shore, their surfboards hiked against their hips.

“you guys go ahead, i think jongho’s calling for me,” mingi suddenly announces before darting off.

you’re left alone with yunho, and from the back of jongho’s head who most definitely doesn’t even know you three have joined the group, mingi’s plan to slip away has succeeded.

“um,” yunho hesitantly starts, “do you want to try paddling out on my board? i’ll stay close.”

the last time you had attempted anything on his shortboard, you had flipped over and swallowed several mouthfuls of salt water. although you’re not particularly keen on repeating the experience, some things don’t need to be spelt out– the reason for his offer. only one foot is needed to push a bicycle into motion, but two feet are needed to keep it in motion. so you nod and let him drag his surfboard towards the shallow waters for you.

as you trail beside him, seonghwa and jongho greet you enthusiastically on their own boards out in the horizon. yeosang waves too from further down the shore and you lose some of the tension in your shoulders when you know that the intention behind his scarf was not misinterpreted. only san and wooyoung do not directly acknowledge your presence, but unbeknownst to you, the younger is carefully observing your interactions with the others.

“here,” yunho says, garnering your attention.

he holds the surfboard steady in the water, waiting for you to lie on top. his hands stay even after you gingerly shift and balance your weight onto your front. with his guidance, you slowly paddle out past the rush of whitewater waves. yunho is barely waist-deep in the water so he easily manoeuvres you and the board as you try to recall the familiar motion of paddling against incoming swells. but both of you know that you’re not really trying to paddle and he’s not really watching for mistakes.

eventually, you languidly let the waters caress your body as you still, letting the slight waves gently rock your surfboard. one of yunho’s arms have shifted over your back to support the opposite side of the surfboard and your body tingles whenever his forearm brushes over you. his other hand rests near your own, your fingers grazing together whenever the board dances over a swell.

it is within the serenity and solitude of the ocean, and the warmth and proximity of each other’s presence that the conversation happens. yunho apologises and you forgive. it occurs as simply as that, because actions speak louder than words and you have already shared a library of novels with your bodies.

from afar, wooyoung’s internal debate continues to teeter on its fulcrum as he watches the moment you share with yunho. wooyoung may be fast to talk, but he is also keen to observe. he sees the glow of relief and happiness returning to the faces of the boys. what he said to you summers ago still stands true– you make the boys happy and it’s obvious they make you happy too. and all wooyoung has ever wanted is to protect the smile of his loved ones, including you.

the radiance of the smile you give when yunho pretends to flip your surfboard over reminds wooyoung of his failure to do just that. in his blindness for the others, he had sacrificed your smile. the scale teeters over the fulcrum and he follows the momentum of his heart to wade out into the waters where you two still are, his apology ready to spill out.

and so you discover that a lot can change in six months, but a lot can also change in one day. with each relationship that stitches back together, rips now reinforced and sturdier than before, namhae almost feels the same again– summer almost feels the same again. you may still have the two hardest conversations left to be resolved, but if more time is what they need, then you are willing to wait for san and–

yunho and wooyoung scramble to steady your surfboard before you actually tip over when you suddenly move to kneel, head whipping around to confirm your fears. you hadn’t initially noticed as the boys had been scattered, intermittently ducking back into the house, but your heart sinks as you count the number of heads again. you’re unable to fight off the dread in your voice when you dare to ask, “where’s hongjoong?”

yunho’s eyes don’t meet yours and wooyoung’s mouth thins out tightly before he cautiously answers you, “he didn’t come.”

san likes to think that he’s patient. ever since he was young, his father had made sure to raise him to wait. wait for elders to eat before picking up his own chopsticks; wait for others to walk through the door before he enters; wait for others to choose their preference before he picks his. and san likes to think that he has diligently applied this principle to his relationships too. wait to understand someone before criticising; wait for his own anger to subside before talking; wait to reflect on his own wrongs before expecting an apology.

but right now, san is impatient. he catches glimpses of the sweet messages you send jongho and seonghwa and the joyous cackles you share with wooyoung when you prank yeosang. he notices the way yunho and mingi are attached to your hips, and san wants all of that and more. he wants to tell you he’s forgiven you and that he’s sorry too; he wants to cup your cheeks and thumb away the phantom tears he caused; he wants to love you.

but his body is acting as if it’s an entirely separate entity from his heart. he’s unable to approach you, even as he watches everyone else do what he wants to and it frustrates him to no end. and it’s as if the gods themselves also became impatient with his pathetic attempts– or lack thereof– because they drop the perfect opportunity right in front of him.

a quick look at his phone tells san that he’s been tossing on the couch for the last two hours. sleep fails to take over, so he hauls himself up and pads softly towards the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. he stares out of the window above the sink, where he can just see the stretch of beach towards the right. the moon shines brightly tonight and the rays decorate the sand and sea foam with dreamy tranquillity.

there’s a quiet rustle above the stillness of the night. when san turns around, his heart immediately clenches at the sight. you’re sleepily rubbing the bleariness out of your eye as you shuffle your way into the kitchen. there’s a stray tuft of hair that san wants to reach out and smooth down for you, but he opts to grip his glass of water tighter.

you startle, not having expected someone to be awake and most definitely not san. you had stayed over late into the night watching a movie marathon with the boys, and despite your protests, they had convinced you to crash in haneul’s room. tension doesn’t exist between you and the boys anymore, only awkwardness with san and…avoidance with hongjoong.

“couldn’t sleep?” you murmur, voice unguarded and still thick with sleep.

san shakes his head, “you?”

“got thirsty,” you explain, grabbing a glass from under the counter.

he hums at your answer and then it grows silent again. it’s only after you drowsily blink at him that he realises why you’re not making a move to get water– he’s still standing in front of the sink. san starts to step out of the way but thinks better of it. reaching out to grab your glass, he fills it up with water and then returns it to you.

“thanks, sannie.”

it doesn’t register in your head that the nickname has slipped out. for him, though, it echoes and ricochets in the very caverns of his ribcage. hesitantly, he mutters, “you’re welcome, pipsqueak.”

it tugs a smile out of your lips. “haven’t heard that in a while,” you muse. “kind of miss it.”

and i miss you. san is impatient, and he finally decides that he cannot take it anymore. “i’m sorry, y/n,” he whispers. “i know how badly i hurt you.”

the haze in your eyes immediately fades away at his words and he takes it as a good sign to continue. “i’ll be honest. i hated that the person next to you as your boyfriend wasn’t one of us–wasn’t me, because it didn’t look like he was making you happy at all. and that day you were out working in the field? some of us actually ran into johnny.”

you acknowledge sadly, “seonghwa told me what happened. i’m sorry he was like that.”

“that’s not on you to apologise,” san refutes. “i was the one who asked the boys to keep it from you until we could properly talk after the campfire night, but along with everything that had led up to that point, all my frustrations accumulated without even realising it.”

“i guess that makes the two of us, then. there were arguments you and i both weren’t aware of, and we ended up being the last straw for each other,” you chuckle wryly.

his voice wavers, “i’m meant to be the one person who is always there for you, but i made it feel like you were pitted against the eight of us instead and i’m so sorry for doing that. it should never have been me against you, nor us boys against you. it should have been all nine of us against the problem.”

you can’t help but take the opportunity to tease lightly, “are you calling my ex the problem?”

“exactly that,” he deadpans. “we all did.”

you nod, “thank you for trying to let me know, even when i didn’t listen.”

“no, i’m sorry we didn’t explain ourselves more clearly–or earlier.”

“but you have now, and i understand,” you reassure.

he nods gratefully before hesitating, “there’s something else behind all this that i can’t tell you yet, not without the others here. but when things are…okay with hongjoong again, that’s when we’ll tell you.”

something about his promise tells you that it has to do with the other part of the conversation everyone has been skirting around so far– your confession. faint memories of the interactions observed between the boys last summer and the brief exchange you overheard between yunho and mingi flicker across your mind.

perhaps you should steel yourself for rejection. you don’t dwell on it, though. this may have been the first time your friendship with san had been so close to shattering, but you know that it will take more than the entire universe to completely break you apart; you still trust him– because before it was the nine of you, it was you and san against the world.

“then are we okay now?” you ask, needing the confirmation.

“yeah,” he smiles breathlessly, “more than okay.”

the caverns of san’s dimples– the ones you love so much– shyly peek out to greet you in the faint glow of the moonlight coming in from the window. he reaches out silently and you understand immediately. you intertwine your fingers together.

san wants to ask you to go to bed with him. not to do anything sexual, but to simply hold you against his chest; trace the curve of your nose; wake up to your sleepy smile in the morning. but he can’t, not yet. not until you’ve worked things out with hongjoong, and not until you’ve had a talk together– all nine of you.

he settles for tugging you in the direction of haneul’s bedroom, hand never letting go of yours as he softly ushers, “let me tuck you back into bed.”

and so fifteen years after your first day of summer in namhae, you find that summer still takes the form of a sweet, dimpled boy who loves the sea and holding hands.

your instinctive reaction is to shut the door in hongjoong’s face.

when seonghwa had texted you asking you to open your front door, you had been expecting said man for obvious reasons. so when you pull the door open and see kim fucking hongjoong at your doorstep in fucking namhae instead, of course you slam the door shut. because why the fuck is he here?

“oh shit,” you curse, when it registers in your brain.

hongjoong is here and you’ve just shut the door in his face. if you had even an ounce of collectedness in you, you would realise that the boys’ initial and very much candid reaction of shock to seeing you randomly show up at their dorm in seoul is suddenly very relatable. you yank the door open again.

“sure, why don’t you just go ahead and punch me in the fucking face too,” hongjoong scowls.

immediately, you furrow your eyebrows, “well, if you’re offering…”

“oh, fuck off,” he raises his middle finger at you.

you raise both middle fingers in retaliation, “yeah, back into my house that you’re standing in front of.”

“for god’s sake–kim hongjoong!” seonghwa hisses in exasperation, head poking out of san’s door as he eavesdrops to make sure this exact thing doesn’t happen. “you’re here to apologise!”

hongjoong appears rightfully berated, then he looks at anything but you as he huffs, “can i come in?”

“depends,” you cross your arms defiantly. “are you going to try and kick me out?”

despite the prickliness of the conversation, it almost feels right in a sense. as if there’s no real heat behind your words and you two are back to the easy banter you used to have– before your near-kiss with him. this time, though, seonghwa hisses your name in frustration.

“geez! okay!” you fluster as you step back and open the door wider, letting hongjoong in and away from the prying ears of the older.

you sit tentatively on your couch and he mirrors you, scratching the back of his neck as he perches himself on the edge. it’s awkward and tense when it becomes apparent to the both of you that you’re alone. “i didn’t think you would come,” you break the silence.

he hums softly, “me neither.”

you don’t know how to respond so you don’t, allowing the quiet to settle over your living room once more. eventually, hongjong opens his mouth quietly, “i was–am ashamed of myself.”

you’ve been there before– on the other side of the conversation as the one doing the apologising. you know how difficult it is to be honest about your own emotions, particularly the negative ones, so you wait patiently for him to find the right words.

“i’ve been ashamed ever since the night i tried to kiss you. i was a coward and i did nothing to change it. i only ended up hurting you and i’ve regretted it every single day. i think about why i didn’t talk to you afterwards, why i said those things about you and your ex…why i didn’t just kiss you.”

you can’t help but inhale sharply at his confession, because that can only mean one thing.

hongjoong gathers the courage to look at you as he admits, “i did like you. i still do. but i was an idiot and thought that i was doing the best thing for everybody. i shouldn’t have made that choice for you nor tried to have a say in your love life. i was jealous and i know now how toxic i was being, which is why i was so stubborn about not coming to namhae because i didn’t think my apology would be good enough. so i’m sorry for all the things i said and did, but i’m also sorry that it took me this long to talk to you.”

he looks so uncharacteristically unsure of himself as he timidly asks, “will you forgive me?”

there’s not a moment of hesitation before you’re closing the gap between the two of you on the couch so that you can wrap your arms around him. and in a rare display of vulnerability, he tucks his face into the crook of your neck. you comfort, “i forgive you. there are a lot of things i’m ashamed of doing too. but we all make mistakes and that’s what helps us to grow.”

“you still like me?” he mumbles into your neck.

you laugh at the ticklish feeling, “very much so, hongjoong.” because in forgiveness there is love, and you have years of owed love to show the boys.

only when your sides become cramped and your necks become stiff do you finally pull away from each other. as you make eye contact with him though, you’re suddenly reminded of his confession. you know that you will need to have another talk with hongjoong about it, and you still don’t know where the other boys stand in terms of pursuing something romantic with you, but that will be for later. right now, you are content and at peace– the nine of you against the world once more.

“let’s go find the rest of the boys?” you ask.

he grins, holding a hand out to pull you up with him as he answers, “let’s go.”

just as hongjoong puts on his shoes by the doorway, he distractedly questions, “why are these here?”

you frown and follow his line of sight, settling on the top of the cabinet in your hallway where a pair of gloves sit– the ones you had discovered in your coat on your way back to namhae. “you know who they belong to?”

“yeah,” he nods, absentmindedly touching them before walking out the door. “i bought them last year, but they were too big so i gave them to san.”

it was san who hid them in your coat.

you numbly follow his steps outside where the boys have gathered in waiting and are sitting side by side on the embankment, facing the ocean. they are simply living in the moment, basking in the golden rays of sunlight and the warm touch of the person by their side– an arm around a waist; a head on a shoulder. you almost don’t want to disturb them, but you know the seven of them are not complete. not without hongjoong, and not without you.

and as your gaze meets san who smiles at the both of you, his chest swelling with relief, pride and love, you realise that san had bared his heart out to you long before you even knew.

once you fall back into routine with them, it starts to become obvious. the way the boys naturally gravitate towards one another with doting gazes and lingering touches; the casual use of a pet name or flirtatious joke; the shifts in dynamic you had noticed before that seem to extend beyond friendship. it starts to make sense when you realise that that’s exactly the reason– no longer are their relationships purely based on platonic love, but romantic love.

it’s why yunho knocks his forehead against mingi’s just to see him smile, and why san pretends to grumble when wooyoung kisses his cheeks, only to give the younger a proper kiss mere seconds later. it’s why jongho never lets yeosang carry his own surfboard even if he’s just as strong, and it’s why seonghwa and hongjoong like to disappear into the shower together.

but the longer you mull over these interactions for, the more you realise that they don’t seem to be simply ‘paired off’. you notice how jongho refuses to be cuddled but will nestle against seonghwa when he’s tired, and how yunho and yeosang seek out each other’s company before bedtime. you notice how wooyoung squeezes hongjoong’s ass underwater to make him yelp, and how san and mingi are content to just sit together on their surfboards on the sand.

rather than a question of who is with who, it becomes a question of who isn’t with who, and this time, you also find yourself mixed into the equation. but it confuses you whenever they treat you the same and you find yourself holding back despite your feelings, because it’s much harder to tell what kind of love they’re giving you when you yourself yearn for the intimate type.

san notices the change in your demeanour, as small as it may be, and decides it’s time for the talk. so here the nine of you sit on the beach that stretches in front of your houses. the sand is still warm from the sun even as it starts to dip towards the horizon of the sea. yeosang’s jacket lays over your bare legs and a slight breeze tugs delicately at your clothes.

“okay, so who’s telling her?” yunho elbows wooyoung as soon as the words leave the latter’s lips.

“what? how else are we meant to start the conversation?” wooyoung complains before mocking, “the reason i have gathered you all here today–”

rolling your eyes, you cut to the chase, “are you all dating each other?”

wooyoung chokes on his own words and everybody else looks at you with wide eyes.

“how’d you know?” yeosang startles.

seonghwa agrees, “i didn’t think we were that obvious,” but when you simply raise an eyebrow in response, he’s quick to amend, “okay, maybe we were.”

san eyes the others to see if anyone wants to step in and lead the conversation, but when nobody does, he speaks up to explain, “we’ve been dating each other for just over a year now–so before last summer. it took a bit of time to work everything out, establish boundaries and communicate what we wanted from one another, but we’re happy like this.”

“once our relationship had settled down a little, that’s when i came out to my parents,” mingi adds, “which didn’t go down well. we wanted to tell you last summer too, but…other things happened and it all fell through before we could talk about it.”

yeosang meekly scratches the back of his neck as he says, “it’s long overdue, but we’re telling you now.”

the chuckle that comes out of you is light and carefree. “i’m happy for you guys,” you affirm sincerely. “i don’t think there’s anybody else who is more perfect for you guys than each other.”

you truly do. you’re thankful that they have one another and you finally understand how hard it must’ve been for san during your argument to pick a side. his boys were and are his priority and you cannot fault him for putting them first. but then you’re reminded of hongjoong and his confession. are the others aware of his feelings?

said man has the audacity to frown at you in confusion. “why does it sound like you’re just wishing us well?”

“am i not allowed to do that as your friend?” you mirror his expression.

“god,” hongjoong exhales. “do you think we’re telling you this just to reject you?”

“of all people to say that–rub it in my face, why don’t you,” you grumble.

he starts to grasp the situation as he looks at the rest of the boys, “wait, did nobody fucking confess to her apart from me?”

the explosion of responses to his question is immediate.

“you confessed–” “–i thought we agreed to confess together–” ���–trust you to cut in line! that’s not fair!”

your eyes dart wildly from side to side, unsure of who to focus on as they all start to passionately talk over one another. at one point, someone tries to chuck a handful of sand in hongjoong’s direction, but it scatters innocuously before it can even get close.

“hold the fuck up,” you yell over the commotion. “confess what?”

“how did you figure out that we’re in a polyamorous relationship but not that the feelings extend to you as well?” yeosang judges you.

“i didn’t want to project my own feelings and misconstrue anything. plus, none of you have actually mentioned liking or dating girls before, so i just…”

“assumed we didn’t have feelings for you,” seonghwa concludes as you laugh awkwardly.

wooyoung deadpans, “we may have wanted to punch your ex in the face for his shitty-ass personality because we were your friends, but we were also jealous as fuck.”

“all of you?” you ask in disbelief.

“all of us. some of us were just better at hiding it,” mingi looks pointedly at the boy sitting on his left.

“you’re one to talk about hiding your feelings,” hongjoong counters before turning to you to expose, “mingi wouldn’t shut up about you after he met you.”

mingi immediately shoves him backwards into the sand.

“look,” jongho cuts in, “what we’re trying to say is that we’ve all liked you for a while now, and if you still feel the same way about us, then we’d like to take our relationship with you to the next step.”

how many times have you wanted this moment– for all of them to return your confession. but now that it’s actually becoming a reality, it’s honestly a little daunting. “you’re all serious about this?”

a lot will change over the next year. most of you will join hongjoong and seonghwa as postgraduates and start full-time work. san will move back to namhae, but whether the others will follow or stay in seoul is unknown. there are a lot of uncertainties regarding the future and the relationship will only work if everyone is serious about making it work.

yunho answers on everyone’s behalf, “we’re very serious.”

you take a moment to look at all of them one by one, only to find the same promise within their gazes– that even if things become difficult, they want to face it with you by their side.

it feels right when san is the one to officially ask the question, “y/n, will you be our girlfriend?”

like san once said, it’s hard to find friends you love, but it’s even harder to find a friend you fall in love with, and you’ve been blessed with not only one, but eight of these people. between friendship and love, you already know from experience what you will decide– so you make your choice.

“i forgot, are hongjoong and wooyoung coming down this weekend?” san pokes his head in through the doorway.

you eye him from the mirror, face void of expression to reply, “don’t count on it.”

san’s pout is immediate and you laugh, shuffling over to console your boyfriend from where you had been getting ready in your shared bathroom. he grumbles, “you’re never going to let me hear the end of that, are you?” but he can’t hide the way his lips pull upwards the moment you press a chaste kiss against his cheek in apology.

“hongjoong said that there were a couple of delays with filming, so he and wooyoung can’t step away just yet. but they’ll come back next saturday if they can wrap things up by then.”

as you talk, san takes the halter straps out of your grasp so that he can help secure your top around your neck. “it’s so hard to align everyone’s schedules together. i miss the long holiday breaks we got in college,” you absently complain, body relaxing under the ministrations of san’s hands as he gently squeezes the nape of your neck.

“me too, love,” another voice joins the conversation. seonghwa walks up to tenderly ruffle san’s hair and nuzzles your temple with his nose. “but we have to work hard to pay off this house and to spoil you with whatever you want.”

seonghwa has grown out his hair and has kept it long since, and you love running your fingers through his silken waves before he goes to work every morning. he always looks so soft and cosy with his round glasses and fluffy sweaters that you know his school kids adore just as much as you do. but right now, his face bare of makeup and hair pulled back into a messy updo, wearing nothing but a pair of board shorts to show off his upper build, he looks the complete opposite of what you’re used to seeing and you feel your stomach doing flips in response.

you lean into both of their touches as you giggle, “we could have bought a smaller house. nobody sleeps in their own bedroom anyway.”

“well can you really blame us for being madly in love,” seonghwa grins, stealing a kiss from you that only serves to elicit more giggling.

“that’s true. your beds are always warmer than mine,” you agree.

“exactly. now come on, are you ready to go?”

the three of you walk downstairs to the living room, where the rest of the boys are waiting around in various mismatches of shirts, tank tops or only shorts. after two weeks of attempting to keep everybody’s clothes separate once you’d all moved in together, they had simply given up and made their wardrobes communal.

as you drop a spare bottle of sunscreen into your tote bag, a pair of arms snake themselves around your waist. you turn around, sweet smile ready to greet whoever it is. your jaw drops, “wooyoung?”

his eyes sparkle with mischief, even more so when your eyes grow even wider at the sight of hongjoong perched on the edge of the couch in the background and you exclaim, “hongjoong? i thought you two weren’t coming until next week?”

wooyoung takes the opportunity of your dazed compliance to pull you into a bone-crushing hug. “we caught up with the schedule,” he exclaims happily. “you should’ve seen hongjoong though. director kim made sure to work us hard.”

you playfully wriggle yourself out of the vice-like hug you’re in to bound over to the older, who automatically opens his arms to welcome you. you slot easily between his legs and his hands rub the sides of your back fondly as he looks up to ask, “did you miss me?”

forgoing an answer, you lean down to kiss him. wooyoung immediately complains, “why didn’t i get a kiss?” so san pulls him in for one to appease him. you’d never be able to leave the house otherwise, because then everyone would start demanding your kisses. and considering that it has been a few long months since you last had quality time with all eight of them at the same time, there would be too many wanted kisses to count.

one thing you had all agreed on prior to buying a house in namhae was to ensure it had a beach front, just like your and san’s old home. so it doesn’t take long to carry your surfboards– save for you; the boys like it when you use theirs– and towels down to the shore.

you close your eyes, inhaling the familiar scent of salt and subtle feeling of ocean spray on your skin. it’s a bittersweet emotion, knowing that it’s already the last day of summer, but only today have the nine of you been able to align your schedules this year. it makes you appreciate these fleeting moments of rest though, and you learn to find rest in each other too.

some of the boys start slipping off their tops, dropping them onto the sand to keep them dry as they surf. you’ve found that the greatest perk of dating them is that you’re allowed to openly and unashamedly ogle at them. the rigid shadows of their muscles reveal the discipline and hard work they put into maintaining their bodies despite their busy jobs.

san had also been monitoring his protein intake leading up to his recent dance showcase, so it’s very hard to look at the expanse of his broad chest and prominent dip of abs down his hips without feeling a rush of heat in your lower stomach. if the boys know that you offer to help them reapply sunscreen just to get a little handsy with them, then nobody says anything. (they offer to help you reapply your sunscreen as well.)

you’re content to just lie down on your towel and watch the boys, yeosang in his usual place by your side as he presses lazy kisses to your shoulder and traces the names of his lovers onto the skin of your stomach. mingi starts dragging his surfboard into the water, but when wooyoung attempts to push him in instead– and fails miserably– all thoughts of surfing are quickly forgotten. it becomes an absolute shitshow when hongjoong gets mistaken for the culprit and mingi picks him up. 

“it wasn’t me!” the older shrieks, but mingi has no ears for reasoning and prepares to drop him into the water. unwilling to go down by himself, hongjoong grips mingi’s neck at the last second and successfully drags him underwater with his weight. as wooyoung runs away absolutely delighted by the outcome, his trajectory unfortunately runs into jongho, who cuts off his cackles with a giggle, a simple shove sideways and a resultant splash.

not even bystanders can catch a break, and seonghwa screams for mercy as san and yunho suddenly grab his arms and legs. they sway him from side to side before letting him go with the momentum of the last swing to fling him into the ocean. everyone erupts into a united clamour of glee at the dunking of the eldest and you find yourself shaking your head at their unchanging antics.

you don’t think you can ever get tired of watching their radiant smiles of happiness and shared touches of sun-kissed skin, nor can you ever get tired of hearing their tinkling chimes of laughter and rowdy shouts of mischief. you may all grow older and there may not be as much time or luxury to simply bask in the joys of summer any longer; these golden hours that you are living in right now may forever remain as your sole memories when you reflect back on the essence of your youth.

on this day– the last day of summer in namhae– you find that summer takes the form of shared ice cream with sticky kisses, long showers with warm touches, and hushed pillow talk with synchronous heartbeats. but it doesn’t matter to you, not anymore.

the seasons will change and the years will pass, but so long as you are with your boys, every day will be summer.

[bitimdrake]

Could you expand on how you think Ravens chaveater has changed from the show? I started reading NTT after your comic guide and she still seems to behave somewhat the same way so maybe im just missing something. This is fully in good faith btw not trying to like say youre wrong or anything <3

Yes! Sorry this one took me a bit. Trying to get my thoughts in order. I watched the animated show as a kid, got into comics later, and I thought the differences between Raven in the show and in New Teen Titans were so huge and clear that I'd never really tried putting it to words before.

Context for everyone: imo the original version of Raven existed from her introduction in New Teen Titans 1980 to the early 2000s, before they heavily changed her for the 2003 cartoon, and then that popular depiction bled into her comics counterpart ever since.

So I think the best thing is to just contrast NTT Raven and animated Raven. I'm going to start with three concrete differences:

Ages. Raven, like most of the team, is notably younger in the show than NTT. I don't think the show ever declared ages, but they definitely come across as in their young/mid teens to me--teenagers, but still kids. On the flip side, Raven was already ~18 when introduced in the comics. NTT is very much a story about young adults (plus their kid teammate Changeling), and that's inherently a different vibe.

Style. Animated Raven is ultimate goth girl, dark and edgy. NTT Raven is more boho in style, wears a lot of bright or light colors, is vegetarian, etc. The costuming here isn't so much the important part as that personal style is a fundamental part of character design.

Powers. Both Ravens have general magic powers including various utilities like teleportation. But her primary power in the show was a newly invented telekinetic one, visually represented by turning things black. That didn't exist in the original comics. NTT focused largely on her empathic and healing powers: she can sense people's pain, and she can take that pain into herself to heal them. iirc I think she heals at some point in the show, but it's a minor piece, whereas it's her Main Thing in the comics run.

(Tangent here: most of these changes have very clear reasoning for fitting with the show. The characters are younger because it's for a younger audience and has a wackier tone. Raven was given a new fight-based power because it's an actiony cartoon with lots of fighting. But the goth thing seems purely by choice.)

Those three things are all in some ways aesthetic, but each one influences or reflects her personality as well. And they come together to indicate the overall character. So, to the slightly more subjective analysis:

I would say animated Raven is defined by being monotone, wry and sarcastic, secretive, and reserved.

I would say NTT Raven is defined by being gentle, compassionate, shy, and reserved.

The only thing in common on those lists is "reserved"; they're both introverts. They do have other personality details in common: sometimes feeling overwhelmed by their empathic powers, keeping friends at arm's length out of fear, sometimes coming off as exceptionally mysterious.

But they're very different character concepts! Animated Raven is the snarky goth girl; NTT Raven is the sweet wallflower. Suppressing her every emotion is a key element of Raven's character concept in the show, but not so present in the comics. Constantly taking other's pain onto herself is a key element of Raven in NTT, but not really part of the show.

Animated Raven is prickly, deadpan in her humor, has a lot of defenses to get through; she can never truly emote because of her powers. NTT Raven is earnest, keeps herself separate mostly just because she's shy, and doesn't have to worry about expressing herself when she feels confident enough to do so.

You may disagree with this reading! Personality analysis is always subjective! It's also possible that the aura of mystery around Raven early in NTT obscures some of these traits until later!

But imo, they are very, very different characters.

And after the show started airing, I see a distinct shift in Raven's comic appearances to match. She's aged down to be younger than she ever was, ~16 instead of long-since an adult. She's more snarky, less sweet. She adopts the goth thing. And her visual design has slowly shifted away from its first incarnation as well.

To end on a note of pure personal opinion: I love both versions. I was obsessed with Raven from the show as a kid. I adore the Raven in the New Teen Titans comics. But I kinda wish they had never been blended together. Goth Raven is cool, but her becoming the overriding default has wiped out the old Raven entirely, and I miss that sweet girl </3