#sorry yall i couldn’t find a good place for a cut

[lqfiles]

PAY THE PRICE — 17. i DO have a girlfriend

(wc: 2.075 sozz yall)

they say fuck around and find out for a reason. haechan was never one to take the saying too serious, though he wishes he did. he’s sure he wouldn’t be in this predicament if he hadn’t taken those words so lightly.

he wasn’t sure whether to blame himself, or you at this moment.

“i know you’re there, haechan.” haechan threw his head back with a groan. gripping onto the door handle, he slowly opened it, letting a sliver of his body show through the crack.

“what do you want.” haechan asked, already growing impatient. if she had noticed the tone, she didn’t comment on it, instead greeting him with a warm smile. “it’s been a while.” she answered back.

“for a reason.” haechan answered back and the urge to close the door was starting to overtake him. alas, he still kept it slightly open, wanting to know why she had sought after him after a month of not talking.

“i missed you..” haechan couldn’t help the deep sigh that escaped past his lips. he opened the door further, still not fully open, but enough for the rest of his body and face to show. “listen, cut this whole flattering stuff. why are you here, how did you even find my place?” haechan questioned.

her mouth opened and closed for a while, trying to come up with an answer. “well someone told me you lived here- that’s not even the point, i wanna talk to you. wanna talk about us.” she motioned her hand back and forth in the space between them and once again, it took everything in haechan to not throw the door close in her face.

“well i’m weirded out right now. and i don’t know what you mean with talking about ‘us’, because there is no us. we haven’t talked in a month, please move on.” haechan didn’t even attempt to sugarcoat his words, wanting her to understand the seriousness of the things he said and take the hint.

“can we just not try it again? i swear we got along so well, why don’t you want to try again? lets… just give me a chance.” the girl in front of him continued to plead. the sheer desperation laced in her words made haechan close his eyes for a moment, wondering how things even got this far.

it had been around 10 minutes since he opened his door, and he was surprised himself that he didn’t close it yet.

there is a reason why haechan doesn’t talk to the same girl for more than a week, and she was an example of why that was the case. he sighed. “i’m sorry, but i’ll pass.”

“that’s not a good reason!” she rebutted almost instantly and haechan took a step back from surprise. she followed his steps, stepping forward herself, almost entering his apartment. “woah now, step back, and what do the mean with that?” haechan hovered his hands over her shoulder, encouraging her to take steps back, which turned out to be ineffective as she didn’t budge one bit.

“at least give me a reason that has more meaning to it! you can’t just lead me on and expect me to be okay with you breaking what we had.” she whined, and haechan felt dumbfounded.

“woah now, i did not lead you on. if anything, it’s you who put your expectations too high. i’m pretty sure i had told you no several when you asked me to be your boyfriend like, three days into knowing each other.” haechan shot back with a frown, taking a step forward himself.

she took a step back with a small gulp following. haechan’s deep frown remained as he continued. “and if it makes you leave me alone, then i’ll have you know that i already have a girlfriend now. is that good enough of a reason?”

haechan was sure the comment would’ve been enough for her to turn around and walk off, he was even getting ready to shut the door close.

“i don’t believe you.” she simply responded and haechan’s jaw hung low as the words left her mouth. “i don’t believe you, you said yourself that you have a hard time with commitment before, so all of a sudden you just have a new girlfriend?”

haechan felt like a ticking time bomb that was ready to explode any second with the way his patience was running out. he took a deep breath in and closed his eyes again. “well, you better believe it.” haechan calmly answered back.

he opted to not comment on the mention of his lack of commitment as he found it rather.. ironic, that she was asking for the same thing she was ridiculing him for.

“okay, then who is it?” she questioned him with much doubt. haechan, realising that the conversation wasn’t ending any time soon, took a step out of his apartment before closing the door behind him. leaving the two of them in the hall.

just the two of them, until the door next to his opened and out of it came you. turning around, you stopped in your tracks once you took in the scene, surprise evident on your face as you looked back and forth between haechan and the girl you had seen on the ground floor.

haechan’s own eyes locked with you, an impulsive thought immediately taking over his mind. technically, you did owe him an apology for doxxing him. and he did promise to drag you into it. those were all the reasonings haechan needed before he pointed his thumb your way without hesitation.

“she is.”

haechan shuffled towards your side within seconds, slinging his arm around your shoulder before pressing you into his side. he knew not to look at you for the time being, he was sure if the two of you made eye contact, you’d ruin his cover up.

which to his dismay, you still did regardless. “what are you talking about- ow!” haechan gave you a little pinch on the side of your shoulder, rubbing it soothingly after before pulling you closer once a yelp came from you. “yeah, this is her. my girlfriend.”

the way you slowly turned your body to face him almost made haechan wince. he could only imagine the nasty glare you were sending him, or the look of confusion on your face- point is, he didn’t want to look at you.

the girl in front of haechan eyed both him and you who was tightly held into his side with an unconvinced look. “that’s literally the girl who gave me your address.” she scoffed in disbelief, and haechan panicked for a moment, he had totally forgotten about that.

“i think you got the wrong person, (—) has been in her room the whole time, right?”

this time, haechan mustered up the courage to turn your way. “right?” he pressed. the attention was back on you and you remained speechless. there was a hidden plea painted on haechan’s face, as if he was begging you to just play along. you turned your head back to look at the girl in front of you, her own face contorted into irritation.

you weren’t sure what you just got caught up in, but meekly nodded your head regardless.

“well, i still don’t believe it.”

haechan couldn’t even count how many exasperated groans he let out by now. “that’s your issue, just leave me alone from now on since i’m clearly in a committed relationship.” he retorted. unbeknownst to each other, the words leaving haechan’s mouth made both his and your guts churn.

it took a few more seconds, but with a single last scoff, she had turned around and marched off. it left you and haechan all by yourself. the silence that followed was painful and haechan tried everything in him to not move an inch, scared it would trigger you.

“you fucker!” you pushed him away, reaching up to rub the spot where he had previously pinched you. what did he think, of course you wouldn’t let him get away with this.

“listen..” haechan started. “no, what the fuck was that about that! why are you going around calling me your girlfriend to others?!” you freaked out. you reached over to haechan, trying to grasp his neck in hopes of inflicting pain but he beat you to it, taking ahold of your wrists and keeping them by his side in defence.

“i’m not going around saying it to others, it was just her.” haechan defended himself, his grip on your wrist still tight. you managed to wiggle out of it before giving him a push. “doesn’t matter, why are you using me.” haechan could sense the hostility from you and quickly reached for your wrists again, making sure no attempts at harming him would follow.

“i had no other choice, okay? she wouldn’t leave me alone and didn’t accept a normal rejection. just know that this was the only solution there was, and clearly it worked!” haechan protested. he could feel the way you clenched your fist in his hand. if that didn’t indicate how pissed you were, the way you gritted your teeth at him did.

“so you used me!” you yanked your wrists out of haechan’s hold, turning around to walk over to the wall next to your door and placing your head against it in dread. “i wouldn’t call it using you.. matter of fact i told you i would drag you into this, not so funny now huh?”

you didn’t even realise haechan had walked towards you until you turned around. “stop acting like its the end of the world, its not like we’ll have to pretend to be a couple.” haechan tried to reassure. “though, i don’t get what’s wrong about being known as my girlfriend, what’s so bad about dating me?” haechan asked, somewhat amused by your reaction.

the proximity between you two was surprisingly close and you wondered why he got so near. you backed yourself more into the wall to get more space. “i could give you a whole list.” your words didn’t come out as confident as you wanted them to and it caught both you and haechan off guard.

he chuckled, a hum following right after. “go ahead, i’m all ears.” he taunted, and your mind blanked for a moment. you swore you could come up with more reasons than you were able to list, but something about the way haechan was staring you down, eyes not flickering away even if yours did, broke the train of thoughts in your head.

“well.. you know, you’re haechan, that’s one. and.. you’re annoying too so that’s that:” this was stupidly embarrassing, and you knew haechan thought the same as a grin found its way to his face. “hm? is that all?” he provoked, and before you could react, both his hands latched onto your wrists and pulled you away from the wall, a lot closer to him.

“i’d almost think you wanted this, is that true (—)?” you’re sure your eyes had popped out of your sockets, and your heart rate spiked for a moment. even your hands were starting to feel clammy. “what are you talking about?” it seemed like none of your words were willingly to come out confidently like you wanted.

you’re glad that haechan bursted out laughing and let go off you, because you’re convinced that if you stayed in that position for a little longer, you would’ve considered his theory. “you should’ve seen your face just now! i didn’t even know people could be that shocked, kinda cute.” haechan laughed as he walked over to his apartment door.

you stood there frozen in your spot, trying to process what just happened. “oh, and (—).” he called out to you one last time, his back turned to you. “next time someone asks for me that isn’t renjun or yangyang, just say i’m not home.” there was a hint of teasing behind his words and you were convinced there was a motive behind them other than the clear instructions.

“you can do that for me, right babe?” of course, he just wanted to provoke you. haechan thought he was hilarious as he entered his apartment and closed the door, leaving you all alone. you groaned, doing the only thing you could come up with that felt equally provoking.

you kicked his door before going back into your apartment, the groceries you were planning on buying totally forgotten.

previous — master list — next

notes ; the guilt i feel whenever i make a written chapter because it defeats the purpose of an smau ughhh anyways it’s gonna get fun from here i think and hopefully more smau-ish

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[writer-komaru]

Wild One’s Rodeo 𓃗

Warning✧ [explicit] Grinding, no protection, dubcon.

Characters✧ Boothill

Words✧ 1464

Summary✧ As a waitress for one of the most popular bars in penacony, you’ve met your fair share of strange characters. A smug man adorned in exotic furs who tried making a bet with the bartender, a sparkling knight who gave every lady in the bar a rose without even staying for a drink, even an enigmatic woman carrying a purple katana with eyes like a serpent who sat alone at the end of the bar. But never have you met a man like Boothill. A man of steel and whiskey, tying you in hemp like you’re nothing but a naughty cow he’s gonna tame. Give him a rodeo he won’t forget.

“Sorry for the wait, ma���am. Here’s your sundae,” you place a decked out desert in front of an impatient woman who snarls a crude thanks. You’d like to give her a good smack for making you fetch her four other deserts until she is finally satisfied but you had already been scolded two times already. You couldn’t afford to lose another job. Not in this “thriving” economy that had the lower class slaving away while the rich babbled over dozens of mugs of beer or road cars that sped down the busy streets like a comet streaking through the night sky.

You pushed away the unrealistic thoughts and got back to work. “What would ya like, sir?” “How can I help ya, ma’am?” “Would ya like a refill?” The thoughts buzzed and bounced around in your head like a hive of bees; it was beginning to drive ya mad. That was until they suddenly went dead silent.

You placed another tray of expensive alcohol (stuff you’d never dream of buying) onto the faded wooden counter when the doors of the bar flew open, almost splintering into pieces. A shot blasted out into the sky.

“YEEEEHAWW!! How’s all yall fiendin’ tonight?” He hollered out into the crowded bar catching everyone’s attention, including yours. Even though you’ve never seen this man before in your life, the guests erupted into cheers, some even standing up to greet him or share drinks. At Leary it gave you a few seconds to scope him out. He wore a tight, jet-black leather vest and pants, held up by a brown and heavy gold belt. Yet, that wasn’t the main thing that caught your eye. His vest appeared to be cut right above the nipples. But, strangely enough, he didn’t really have any. Instead, his entire upper body from the neck down to his feet and fingertips was entirely plated with titanium, or some similar shiny metal. Could he be some type of robo cowboy?

“Heyyyy little lady, whatcha doin’ on yer own?~” you gasped as he pushed you up against the counter, humming right against your ear with such a deep country accent you felt your legs tremble. He seemed to notice it too, his smirk stretching into a full on smile. “Oh my sweet darlin’, yer gonna fly away like a mayflower in May if ya keep trembling’ like that. Don’t worry babydoll, I got ya~” he chuckled with that rugged, sultry voice as he playfully stroked your hips, as if he was tinkering with some kind of machine, steadfast on fixing your loose legs. But his tinkering only wet your face ablaze.

Who even WAS this man?! You wanted to push him away and scold him but your hips were pinned so hard to the counter you could feel every inch he had. No, you can’t think such dirty thoughts about a guest, no matter how persuasive they were. And damn, was her persuasive.

“What’s with that look, darlin’? Scared I’ll bite?” Lets out a small laugh, “I might be gentle with it if ya say please, mister…~”

“P-please… mister.” you managed out breathlessly

“Awh, aren’t you a cute little lady~ why not we find out what these metal hands’a mine can do to those barrels yer hauling around, huh doll?~” his hands roamed up your body and gave your breasts a firm squeeze. That little move of his snapped you out of your lustful daze to deliver a fiery slap across his cheek.

He takes it like a champ and lets out a light whistle, “wow baby, you sting like hot iron~”

“Y-you can’t just jump on top of a stranger and have your way…” you cross your arms and turn around, peeking back at him to see his reaction. Any other waitress would have called the Bloodhounds of him. But you weren’t just any woman. You were dying for something actually interesting to your monotonous assembly-line ass job and this cowboy might be your ticket to freedom.

“Awwwhhh come on, doll face~ I ain’t mean no harm. When I saw yer curves dressed in that get up I knew I hadta show ya how to properly ride a bull~” he leans forward, taking your hand in his and kissing it with a flirtatious wink. He begins walking back to the door, your hand still in his, “if ya want some hands on learnin’, follow me, pretty thing.”

You immediately ripped off your stained waitress uniform and ran to his side, “Oh Boothill, I’ve been itching for this~”

“Have ya, now?~” he raised an eyebrow in amusement and pulled you into a nearby alleyway, “Well I know just the way to solve a pesky itch~”

“How will-“ before you could even finish your sentence he lifted both of your legs and swung them over his shoulders, your aching pussy pushed flush against his toned metallic abdomen. The hard surface sent electricity zapping through your wet folds; you were not sure if it was your desire or his robotic body sending out small shocks as if to warn you about the power it can showcase.

“Overwhelmed already?~ never been dicked down by a real man, have ya, darling?” He teases, stoking your flames.

“N-no, I have… m-many times…” you bluffed.

“You sure, babydoll? Cuz this cute little pussy down here’s singin’ a different tune and myyyy is it a sweeten’~” he bites his lip as he rubs his hips side to side, the hard as metal rod in his pants grinding against you so good you felt like cumming already and he wasn’t even inside yet.

“P-please….” You begged between gasps.

“Please what, doll?~” he smirked wickedly.

“P-please… p-ple… pl… ease….” You choked out each word, struggling to put them together.

“Two little words and I’ll stretch ya out so good your kitty’ll meow so loud they’ll call animal control,” he gave your chest another teasing squeeze.

“P-please… boothiiiiiilllll….” You cried out.

“That’s a good girl…~” his eyes narrowed with focus as he pushed aside your drenched panties and stroked your folds up and down.

“So sticky and wet… like a rich lil beehive overflowing with thick honey…” he once again rested his head on your shoulder as he aligned himself to your twitching pussy. Without so much as a warning, he rammed right inside, immediately hitting the deepest reaches of your womb, making you release an embarrassingly loud cry and a hot stream of cum all over his shiny abs. “Wowie…~ someone’s really been dying for a proper fucking, huh?” He gripped your hips tight and grunted as he attempted a deeper thrust, “I’ll milk this pretty hole for all its for.”

“Aaaaggh... nnnagggg… s-stop… n-no deep… we… aaACK!~” you choked out moan after moan, almost like you were a pent up teen again. No matter how much you begged, he only went faster and harder, with enough robotic accuracy and consistency you knew you’d be sore for days. It was like he filled each slap of skin with a silent promise to somehow, some way, get you pregnant.

He let out a particularly loud groan in your ear, “oh baby, if ya squeeze me like that… ohhhh doll…~ I just can’t take much more-a this.~ Ya ready? Ready for a real mess?”

“Y-yeah-ahh! Yeeaaaahhhh-Ahhh!” You cried out.

“Darn baby…. Oh… oh fu- f-fudge…. Hold on baby, I’m almost… oh darling, you’re perfect for me!~” with one last growl you feel a large burst of warm cum burst inside of you, dripping out onto the concrete of the secluded alleyway. But instead of giving himself even a moment’s rest, he bites his lip and shoves himself right back in, humping at you like a dog in heat.

“Shi-sugar baby, I just can’t stop breeding this pretty hole… And these massive tits here don’t make it any easier~” he gropes them a bit more before pinching your nipples with a naughty smile.

“A-aaagh!”

“Ohhh~ did someone like that~” he begins fucking you harder and licks your neck, “I didn’t know I had such a foxy lady under me~”

“P-pleasssseeeee boothill…”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll get ya to that edge again…. And again and again and again, oh, you’ll have so much fun with me,” he laughed before delivering a cheeky bite to your neck. Your moans began to soften as your vision darkened, which he caught onto almost as fast as he’s drilling into you.

“I’ve got ya, doll… just let the darkness settle in.” He whispers with a soothing groan as he litters a series of bites along your neck and shoulder, each one fading your vision faster until it is purely black. When the morning comes, you’ll definitely get an ear full from your boss. That is…. If you choose to awake from this beautifully sexy daydream.

Hellooo everyone, I’m so terribly sorry it’s been so long. My life’s gotten a whole lot busier and I haven’t had any inspiration to write in a very very long time. BUT!! Even though this ain’t much compared to my usual stuff, I hope it’s still enjoyable to you all. I love yall so much, looking back at all the kind comments and likes warms my heart more than anything. See yall soon! (I’d be down for a part two if yall like 👀)

[officallunar]

A deity and A man

This fanfic will be on deity!reader and just Lnd man’s because..I have yet to see anyone do this as often and maybe I can give it a try🙂‍↕️…

(I’m sorry yall i suck at aesthetics😭😭)

Warning:All fluff!

Sylus x Reader , Zayne x Reader ,Rafayel x Reader,Xavier x Reader! (All seperated)

Fanfic under cut!

The first time you encountered Sylus was unforgettable, mostly because he strolled into your quiet sanctuary like he owned the place. You were sitting on your favorite cliff, enjoying a rare moment of peace, when he appeared, his presence as bold as his white hair and piercing red eyes.

"So, you’re the deity I’ve heard so much about," he said, that cocky smirk plastered on his face. "I expected someone more... awe-inspiring."You arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. “And I expected a little more humility from someone who clearly just crashed the party.”

He laughed, unfazed. “Touché. But really, what’s a powerful deity like you doing out here all alone? Don’t you have realms to rule or something?”

“Watching over mortals is a bit boring,” you replied, crossing your arms. “But it seems like you need to work on your entrance.”With a playful glint in his eyes, he leaned closer. “I think my entrance was just fine. You’re the one who needs to lighten up.”

---

Now, weeks later, he’s become a regular visitor, showing up as if it’s his right. Tonight, as you sit under a sky full of stars, he slides down beside you, settling in with that same familiar grin.“Another night of solitude, huh?” he teases, nudging you lightly. “I hope you’ve saved some entertainment for me.”“Only if you can keep up,” you shoot back, the corner of your mouth twitching up in a smirk.He laughs, leaning closer, the playful challenge hanging between you. “Oh, I like a good challenge. What do you have in mind?”

You ponder for a moment, then say, “How about a little wager? If you can make me laugh before midnight, I’ll grant you one wish.”His eyes widen with intrigue. “And if I can’t?”“Then you have to leave me alone for a week,” you counter, enjoying the game.“Deal,” he says, and the tension shifts, both of you aware of the stakes.

As the night unfolds, Sylus starts pulling out his worst jokes, ranging from terrible puns to absurdly exaggerated stories about his ‘adventures’ in the N109 Zone. You try your best to hold it together, but each ridiculous tale has you laughing harder than the last.“Alright, you win,” you finally admit, breathless with laughter as midnight approaches. “You’re better at this than I thought.”

He grins, triumphant. “Now, what’s my wish, oh great deity?”You lean in, a mischievous glint in your eye. “How about you start by never calling me ‘great’ again? It’s just cringe.”He laughs, a deep, genuine sound that fills the night air. “I think I can live with that... for now.”

I’m sorry guys this is the only gif I found🥲🥲

Your first encounter with Xavier is when you floated through the abandoned warehouse, doing a routine check on the realm of humans when you stumbled across a familiar sight: A weird man , sprawled out on the floor, snoring softly. His greyish-white hair glowed faintly in the dim light, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Is this really how Deepspace Hunters do their jobs?” you said, voice smooth and teasing. He cracked one eye open, blinked at you, and promptly went back to sleep. (Sleeping beauty core??)

“Hey! Wake up! There’s a Wanderer nearby!” “Mmm, five more minutes…” he mumbled, rolling over. You sighed, shaking your head. “If you don’t wake up, you’re going to become its breakfast.” He jolted awake at that, leaping to his feet. “Why didn’t you say so?” He grabbed his sword and looked around, still half-asleep.

You couldn’t help but laugh as he took down the Wanderer with a flurry of sleepy strikes, yawning between swings. It was a chaotic dance of light and snoring, and somehow it all worked out.

- - -

Fast forward to now, you find yourself lounging in his apartment, a divine being sharing space with a hunter who’s currently napping on the couch. You watch as he shifts in his sleep, mumbling about “no more Wanderers” and “just five more minutes.” You lean over, poking him. “Xavier! Time to wake up!” He opens one eye lazily. “Is it a divine emergency?”

“Only if you consider missing breakfast a crisis.” He grins, stretching like a cat. “Good enough reason to wake up. What’s on the menu today?” “Pancakes, if you can manage to stay awake long enough to eat them.”

“Challenge accepted,” he smiles, and with that, he sits up, looking more awake but still a bit groggy. You can’t help but smile at his half-asleep charm. “Just promise me you won’t nap through the cooking.” “Only if you promise to keep the pancakes divine,” he replies, and you both laugh, the playful banter filling the room as you start breakfast together.

(Ah..next one,my favourite..I swear I’m not bias🥹👍)

The reason you visit Dr. Zayne Li—or rather, insist on popping into his life at the most inconvenient times—is a bit… unconventional. As a deity, you’re technically there to “watch over” him. After all, every mystical Foreseer needs a divine overseer, right? Or at least, that’s what you tell him when he raises an unimpressed eyebrow at your appearances. You’re meant to ensure he doesn’t stray from his destined path or, perhaps more accurately, doesn’t “forget” to relay prophecies or handle those icy, mystical duties Astra assigned him in the Tower of Thorns.

But, in truth, it's not just about cosmic obligations. There’s something about Zayne’s rigid, always-in-control demeanor that just begs for a little mischief. Maybe you’re a bit of a troublemaker (for his own good, of course), or maybe you simply find it amusing to see a doctor—always so precise and serious—dealing with the unexpected interruptions of a deity who shows up to “check on him.”

Sometimes, you claim it’s to make sure he’s managing that balance between mortal work and mystical duty properly. Other times, you vaguely mutter something about “divine energy alignment” while he just stares at you, unamused. The truth is, you’re always a little curious about this stubborn, hardworking doctor who treats his patients with such dedication but himself with nothing short of reckless neglect.

Though you’ll never admit it, seeing Zayne unphased by both heart surgery and celestial visits from an actual deity gives you an odd sense of calm—even if that calm comes with a side of his barely-suppressed eye-rolls. So, you keep dropping by, claiming to ensure he’s fulfilling his duties. And maybe, just maybe, you’re checking on him for reasons you’d never confess to his face.

The first time you met Rafayel, you were just a deity wandering around as usual, doing whatever it is deities do between one world and another. And honestly? You were a little bored, as any immortal would be after centuries of staring at endless ocean waves and making sure they didn’t get rowdy.

But that day, you saw something unusual: a young Lemurian, barely more than a kid, washed up on the shore like some bedraggled fish. He was tangled in seaweed, sputtering and swearing in a way that—if you were being honest—was more adorable than intimidating. You crouched over him, tapping his cheek with a finger, and asked, “You look like a drowned fish, kid. Need a hand, or should I start looking for some lemon slices to go with you?”

In response, he cracked open one eye, scowling like a wet cat, and muttered, “Who’re you calling a fish?”

Fast forward, and you had him propped up against a rock, offering him your limited (but highly entertaining) medical expertise. “Pretty lucky I was in the area,” you said, taking full credit for an accident of fate. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Rafayel,” he said, with as much dignity as a sea-sodden kid could muster.

“Cute name. Sorta like ‘fish fillet’,” you mused. He made a sound like he was trying not to laugh—or choke.

And just like that, Rafayel became your first-ever Lemurian “friend.” Over the next few years, whenever you were in the mood for company, you’d find him, or he’d find you. He’d grown out of his fishy awkwardness and into a young god of mischief himself. The Lemurian civilization saw you both as mythical, larger-than-life beings—until, of course, humans got involved, greedy as usual, wanting the blood of Lemurians for eternal life and all that jazz. You saw Rafayel change, his trust in humanity hardening into something darker, his artistry taking on a sharper edge.

But somehow, he never lost his humor or his bratty attitude with you.

- - -

The next time you run into him, it’s pure luck—or destiny, if you want to give it a fancy label. You’re strolling through Linkon City, admiring the odd human inventions they’ve come up with since you last paid attention. And just like that, you find yourself at Whitesand Bay, standing outside a sleek, modern art studio with a pretentious name you suspect he came up with in the middle of the night. Mo Art Studio,the sign reads. Classic Rafayel. You shove the door open and walk in without a second thought.

He’s perched on a ladder, painting the highest reaches of a canvas, looking like he just stepped out of an angsty artist’s dream. His purple hair’s mussed, and he has paint smeared across one cheek, which, you note with satisfaction, he hasn’t even noticed. You clear your throat, and he almost loses his balance, swearing under his breath as he catches himself.

“Well, if it isn’t the original fish out of water,” you say, crossing your arms with a grin.

He slowly turns, narrowing his eyes. “You.I thought you’d finally gone off to meddle with someone else’s civilization.” He smirks, hopping off the ladder, wiping his paint-streaked hands on his dark pants. “I see some things never change.”

“Neither do you,” you retort, making a show of studying him. “Still look like a kid I’d throw a fish at just for fun.”

“And you still look like you don’t belong on dry land,” he shoots back, with that tsundere spark in his eye. “You realize you’re disrupting a masterpiece in progress, don’t you?”

“Oh, is that what this is?” You pretend to admire the half-finished painting behind him. “Looks more like a disaster in progress, to me.”

His grin twitches. “What would a storm deity know about art? Stick to making trouble for fishermen or whatever you’re doing these days.”

You step closer, tapping a finger against the crimson coral in the corner of the canvas, looking at him knowingly. “This coral… it’s still soaked in blood, isn’t it?”

He raises an eyebrow, unbothered. “You catch on quick.” Then he leans forward, lowering his voice. “Let’s just say it’s a way of reminding certain… patrons of their crimes.”

“Not a grudge,” he says lightly, flashing that roguish grin. “Just selective justice.” Then he pauses, tilting his head at you. “I’m curious—what brings you here? Did the ocean get boring without me?”

“Oh, please,” you roll your eyes. “I just wanted to see how you’re holding up. Maybe witness the mess you’ve made of ‘modern’ civilization.” You give the painting another once-over. “I gotta say, Rafayel, revenge art? Bold choice.”

You grin. “Still holding grudges, I see.”

He shrugs, crossing his arms. “Art’s about making people feel something. And if it happens to make a few insufferable humans lose their minds, well… maybe that’s just a bonus.”You laugh, reaching over to ruffle his hair—just to annoy him. “Still such a brat, aren’t you?”

He swats your hand away, cheeks flushing just a bit. “And you’re still an annoying deity who doesn’t understand personal space.” He clears his throat. “But since you’re here, maybe you’d like to see what real art looks like up close.” He gives you a sly look. “Provided you can keep your opinions to yourself for once.”

“Sure, I’ll give you a free critique.” You wink, settling on his studio couch with exaggerated nonchalance. “Just don’t cry if I’m too harsh.”

(I’m sorry yall I had a bit too much fun)

[scftpcws]

Star Crossed| Armando Aretas | Teaser

✩Description: Requested by @nelo0wesker : “Enemies to lovers Armando X reader. Readers in the mafia while Armando in the cartel”

✩ Pairing : Armando Aretas x Fem!reader

✩ Genre : Dark Mafia Romance

✩ Warnings: 17+ (smut in later chapters, Violence, Drug usage, Gang Violence, Sexual/Dark themes, Child endangerment, source accurate violence, bad language, death, my awful spelling and grammar, my terrible Spanish translations (i’m a little rusty), made up characters

✩ Fandom: Bad Boys

✩ Taglist : @nelo0wesker @twinklestarslight @mzbeautii96 @geneziesm @mcotton0928 @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @sunrisesfromthewest

✩ A/n: i didn’t know how i could put this in one post so its going to be a multi part fic! i really hope yall enjoy this . i should be updating weekly (hopefully..) pls lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist or if you would like a rundown of the characters xx

anywayss…

Teaser under the cut !! * *‧.₊˚*੭*ˊᵕˋ੭.*

enjoy!! :)

Star Crossed| Armando Aretas

“But Dad, why?” she huffed, throwing her arms in the air in frustration.

“Because i said no.”

“But thats not a good enough answer.”

“Y/n, seriously, leave it alone.” he responded, shooting her a glance.

“But I have been training my whole life for this! How am i supposed to take over one day if you can’t trust me to do this?!” she was seething with rage, her nails digging into her palms. She had been told she could ‘go out in the field’ once she had completed her training and was now being denied that right. To say it pissed her off was a serious understatement.

“Mom would want me to do this!”

“Your mother is dead! She cannot want anything! You’re not going and that is final!”

She took a step back, tears welling in her eyes. Ever since her mother had died on a mission, her father had become cold and distant. It was almost as if he never cared for her.

“Thats not fair , and you know it,” she spoke through gritted teeth, her hands balled up in fists at her sides. “If you really don’t want me there despite me being your best agent, fine. But when it all goes to shit, don’t ask me to help.”

She left her fathers office, the thud of her boots following her. Her father sighed, holding his face in his hands. Y/n was just like her mother, dedicated, hardworking, and undeniably stubborn. She couldn’t understand why her father wouldn’t allow her to assist the team on this mission. She thought he was coddling her, holding her back from her full potential. But in reality, he was protecting her.

She stomped all the way to her room, throwing herself on the plush mattress. Her bedroom door clicked open, the sound of kitten heels on the hardwood floors piquing her attention.

“Little one, what did i tell you about shoes on the bed?” the sweet and comforting voice of her childhood nanny, Rosetta, made her huff out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. “Sorry Miss Rosetta.” she apologised, unlacing her boots and placing them by her bed. “Good, now what’s with that face? Pretty girls like you shouldn’t frown like that.” Rosetta smiled softly, sitting next to her. Her hair was bouncy and smelled like shea butter and coconut oil. Her makeup was light and refreshing, making her look younger than she really was, though Y/n would never point that out because she knew how sensitive Rosetta was about her looks. she dressed unlike the house staff you would expect to find in a home like Y/n’s, more like a rich aunt rather than a nanny.

“Dad is being difficult again.” Y/n grumbled, crossing her arms, her lip slightly jutted out. Rosetta smiled softly at her, the wrinkles by her eyes becoming more prominent. “Now Miss Y/n, you know he is just looking out for you. He doesn’t want you to get hurt, or worse.” she reasoned, petting y/n’s hair. Rosetta was painfully aware of what had happened to Y/n’s mother, and knew it was a sensitive subject, so she made sure to tread lightly.

Y/n stood from her place on the bed, pacing around her lavish room. “But i am not a baby anymore and he knows that! I am one of the most skilled people on the team but he still treats me like a child. It’s not fair!” she argued, her frustration becoming more and more apparent in the way she spoke.

Rosetta smiled, “Well i can’t blame him when you act like this. If i didn’t know any better, i’d say you were having a temper tantrum,” she joked, her tone light, a gentle grin on her face. Y/n rolled her eyes in response, walking back to her bed. Rosetta held her arms open for her, as she used to when Y/n was younger. She laid her head in Rosetta’s lap, allowing the older woman to rake her fingers through her hair, the tension melting from her body.

“Look, Munchkin, your Baba cares about you. He wants you to be safe, and so do i. He has already lost so much, he cannot lose you too.”, Rosetta affirmed, looking down at the sweet girl in her lap. She looked almost the same as she did when she was a child, still soft and precious, but fiercer and somehow more headstrong.

Y/n often despised the way that no matter what Rosetta said, she made sense, she always made sense. “Now dinner will be ready soon, will you be coming down?” She asked, looking down at the girl curled up in her lap.

“I will, but i’m not talking to him.”

The dinner was quiet as ever, just Y/n and her father sat at the table on opposite ends, the same way it had been since her mother died. Rosetta stood off to the side, refilling their glasses whenever they emptied.

“Silent treatment? Real mature Y/n, real mature.” he father stated, taking a sip from the glass of water Rosetta had poured for him. Y/n stood her ground. She wasn’t trying to be childish or petty, she was trying not to to say something she would regret later on, for she did not have a good grasp on the sharp tongue she inherited from her father. Though, it did make arguments with him all the more interesting. “The target is called Benit-”

“Im not going remember? why would you tell me?” she interrupted harshly, her jaw clenched and eyes glaring daggers at her father. “You exhaust me, daughter, you really do.” Her dad sighed, taking a forkful of food and putting it into his mouth. “I’m just trying to fill the silence that you insist upon, because you are too spoiled to take no for an answer, but i guess that is not good enough for you, because nothing ever is.” he grumbled, knowing perfectly well that she would hear every word.

“I insist on the silence, because at least when it’s silent my very existence isn’t being insulted.” she quipped back, cutting up her food and shoving some in her mouth in a hurried attempt to shut herself up. Her father may be head of one of the most powerful mafia families in the world, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t her dad.

“Well maybe if you just did as you were told for once, without questioning my every decision i wouldn’t have to call you out on your petulance!”

“Oh I’m petulant? Says the man who won’t let anyone do anything because he’s too afraid!”

“You are just like your mother, always flying off the handle, not thinking before acting!”

“Mom never listened to your stupid demands and orders!”

“Look where that got her!, the silence was so deafening you could hear a pin drop. “Honey I-”

“How could you say something like that? She did nothing but love you and this is how you talk about her? You berate her for the only mistake she ever made, which was protecting me! She was perfect, never cursed, was polite and knew how to handle herself without getting herself into trouble. You tell me i am just like her?! Well i wish i was like her, maybe then you wouldn’t view me so negatively . Or maybe you would, because that’s exactly how you view her.” Her fists slammed against the table as she rose from her chair.

“Miss Y/n-”

“Miraculously my appetite has gone, thank you for the food though Rosetta.” and with that, she left to her room.

“I dont even want to hear it, Rose” her father huffed, his brows furrowed and his hands clenched together.

“You are both in the wrong. That’s all.” She smiled, placing her hand on Claude’s shoulder, her thumb grazing the fabric of his well tailored suit.

“I know.”

“Hey Boss?” a tall man, of a muscular build walked up to the table, papers in hand. “Yes Lorenzo?” Claude responded, rubbing his temple with his fingers. “I got everything i could on our target from our guy inside, but his tracker just went dead.” Lorenzo admitted, his head low, making sure not to make eye contact with his boss.

“What do you mean his tracker went dead?” Claude breathed, his fist slamming on the table top, causing Rosetta to jump while she cleaned up. “I mean his tracker was on and then it wasn’t.” Lorenzo asserted, huffing out a breath.

“You think this is funny, Enzo?” Claude stood up, grabbing the collar of Lorenzo’s shirt in his fist and and pulling his face closer toward his own.

“No boss.” Claude stared right into Lorenzo’s eyes, his teeth clenched in fury.

“Fix it.”

“Well, we think he may have been discovered, and you know, blown his cover.” Enzo responded calmly, knowing if he reacted the way he wanted to he’d be out of a job, and possibly a life. “Damn you Aretas.” he sighed, his knees suddenly becoming weak.

“Boss!”

“Claude!”, Rosetta ran to his side, holding him up as Lorenzo helped her situate him in the chair. “Kill him, i dont care what you have to do to make it happen. i want him dead.”

“Miguel. Ven aqí (come here)” a gruff voice demanded silence from a small group of men playing a round of Cheat, at a table in the middle of a worn down garage.

“Yeah Jay?” Miguel answered, a sweet smile gracing his lips, his two gold canines on full display.

“Did you do what i asked you to?” he was strangely calm, his left eyebrow slightly raised in mock amusement.

“Yeah of course i did.” Miguel answered, his hands moving straight to his pockets. He was lying.

“What did i ask you to do, hmm?” Jay’s hand made its way to Miguels face, squishing the skin in his hand, as the panic started and sweat began to settle on his forehead. ‘oh shit, what did he ask me to do,’ he thought, trying hard to remember the simple task he was asked to complete.

“I asked you to count the money.”

“Oh yeaaah count the money,” his response was delayed and drawn out, a clear indication that he had not in fact counted the money like Jay had asked him to.

“You see, Compa (friend), i asked you to do one thing,huh? Una cosa (one thing) , and you couldn’t even do that,” Miguel looked his ‘friend’ up and down, he was clearly upset, he fucked up.. bad.

before he could utter an apology for his incompetence he felt the cool end of a gun against his temple. “One thing buddy, thats all i asked. Look man, I knew you were stupid, but i didn’t know all that food you ate inhibited your brain functions!” Jay’s words were like venom. He was never nice to anyone but this was too far, even for him.

“Look man, i got distracted, I’m sorry, i’ll count the racks up before Boss gets back, i swear just don’t shoot.” he begged, tears beginning to well in his eyes.

“I should shoot ya’ in ya’ head, maybe it’ll rearrange your brain, make you useful, hmm?” he spat, digging the barrel of the gun further into his skull. “Or maybe i should shoot ya’ dick off, maybe then you’ll spend less time thinking about las putas (the whores) we see on the street and more time thinking about the simple fucking things i ask your dumbass to do!”

“Please man, you know i have a wife and kids, man. I am begging you.”

“Damn, i forgot about that pretty little thing you call your wife. fuck, you think if if i shoot you i could play step daddy for you, hmm? Keep your side of the bed warm. Snuggle up with ya’ Mrs, give her some good- ”

*Bang*

The sound of a gunshot resounded through the garage. Miguel checked himself over for bullet holes as Jay’s body hit the ground with a heavy thud, his gun falling from his grasp.

“Louis.” Armando said, watching the blood pour from Jay’s lifeless body and pool around him. “Yeah boss?,” a young boy, no older than 19 stood abruptly from his seat at the card table, almost knocking his chair over.

“Clean that up will you? I hate rats.”

“Yes boss.”

“And Miguel? Go count the money before i bury you with him.”

“Yes, boss.”

Hope you enjoyed the teaser!! the first part will be out soon xx

[hearts4johnwick]

— REMINISCENCE.

SUMMARY. tyler coincidentally finds you again after you got injured during a EF-3 tornado.

WARNINGS. reader gets injured, cheating (??), allusions to smut.

WORD COUNT. 1k (i wanted it to be longer but i couldn’t think of anything else </3. this is lowkey a mess but in a good way ;) idk yall will be the judges of that)

you cried in pain as you held your thigh in your hands, pressing on the open and bleeding wound. an EF-3 tornado came in unannounced and Scott found you taking shelter with a family that had seen you and called for you to take cover with them but while you were making your way over there, a piece of metal debris from the tornado pierced her thigh, the father and brother had to go up and help her stand and walk over to the shelter. one of the family members took off a piece of their clothing and wrapped it around her open wound.

once the storm passed they left the shelter and went into the town, looking for an ambulance for you. you saw your crew and Scott laid his eyes on you and immediately made his way over.

“Oh my God, Y/n! What happened to you?” Scott took you from the father’s arms and thanked them.

“i was at the park, clearing my mind off of things, saw the tornado forming and went to my car but then the family offered me to come to take shelter, i went, but the debris from the tornado… well…”

“shit, i’m so sorry for being late.” you shake your head. “how are you feeling right now?”

“I want some water.” Scott sees a gurney from an ambulance and softly lays you down.

“i’ll get you some water.” he leaves and paramedics come to inspect you.

they stitch your cuts and help you with other possible injuries you could’ve suffered. they found nothing serious, only a few scratches, and a sprained ankle. taking out the huge piece of aluminum roofing from your thigh was horrible, you’re pretty sure you broke Scott’s hand by how hard you held it while in the process.

right now, you were sitting in the back of the ambulance, a blanket draped over your shoulders and Scott’s arm around you.

“i went over to your house and you weren’t there today. or yesterday, or the day before that. where have you been?” Scott’s cold hands cup your cheek and caress them softly, you rest your eyes, feeling relieved and calm at his touch, as you were about to speak, a familiar voice rings through your ears.

“what the hell happened to you?!” Tyler Owens pushes Scott out of his sight, you furrow your eyebrows.

“Hey, man. it’s okay, she’s fine.” Tyler’s head cocks over to the direction of the voice.

“what are you, blind? can’t you see those cuts on her face and that enourmous one on her thigh?” Tyler’s voice raises and he glances at your glossy eyes.

“Ty…” the sound of your raspy voice catches his attention in an instant. “I’m okay now… the doctor’s checked me and they said it’s nothing serious.” he lets out an exhale and rests his eyes before humming in acceptance. you slowly stand from the back of the ambulance and make your way toward Scott.

“i’m leaving now.” Scott furrowed his eyebrows. his face hardened, he was about to tell you to sit back down until we get the paramedic’s approval to leave, but he knew it was best to not start that argument. “thank you.” you placed a hand on his chest and he held it, he nodded and planted a kiss on your cheek.

“anytime. let me know if you make it home safe.” you laugh as he maintains intimidating eye contact with Tyler.

“not too much, Scott.”

“Yeah, whatever.” he rolls his eyes and smirks before you turn your back on him, leaving with Tyler.

“thanks for what?? that asshole didn’t do anything.” Tyler says as he helps you into his truck. you laugh.

“he was here before you.”

“yeah? but was he there in second grade when Peter Welling made for of your curly hair? or in Junior year when we were at the bonfire at the beach and that dickhead Nolan Cushing wouldn’t leave you alone?” you shoot him a glare and scoff, you were about to fight him but he shuts the door, taking you aback.

when he gets in the driver seat you point to him. “don’t ever do that again.”

“was he there…” your eyes connect, and you swallow the lump in your throat. “the night before you left for college.” Oh God. “July 24th…” your breathing patterns quickly become unstable, so does your heartbeat.

“you still remember that night?” you chuckle and look away nervously.

“i reminisce that night.” his hand around your face forces you to look at him, and you see it in the reflection of his eyes. july 24th. the night before college.

heat runs up and down your entire body. he feels it, that heat radiating from your skin and it feels so good to him. “we can’t.”

“but we should.

“no. Sco—“

“Scott’s no better than me.” his lips were on yours before you could even take a breath, but you enjoyed it, the second his lips touched yours you were pulling him closer, gripping his hair and face, moving the direction of your heads just so you can deepen the kiss.

you haven’t felt this hunger, this desire since that night, and God does it feel right. Tyler’s hands were all over you, not missing an inch. when his hand moved to your thigh, you flinched because of the wound, but that didn’t make you stop. you needed Tyler at that moment.

all of those moments you missed while you were in Oklahoma were happening now, and would continue back at your house. he felt just as good as he did back in the night before you left for college. you missed him, you were starving for him, and you let him know in all the ways possible.

oh and Tyler? he doesn’t even remember his life before this night. he didn’t waste one second, he didn’t even take his eyes off of you, for he thought that would be a crime. God how he missed you this close to him. the look of you under him, your curls sticking to your face, and your irresistible lips on his skin, your seductive eyes starring down at his.

you found each other again in that moment, and you didn’t not want to lose each other one more time unless it was in your eyes, mouths, or sounds.

meanwhile, Scott was still waiting on your ‘i’m home okay :)’ text. and he got it. sent by Tyler.

guys… i’m in love with david corenswet 🫦🫦

send some requests! (marvel, dc, star wars, the boys, etc!)

also, i have a ‘Twisters’ fic on wattpad if y’all wanna check it out! https://www.wattpad.com/story/374563132?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details&wp_uname=hearts4johnwick ᥫ᭡

[azriels-shadowsinger]

helloooo!!! i wanted to request #15 from the prompt list with Az? have a great day<33

“I’m sorry. I don’t feel the same way.” “Look me in the eyes and tell me that.”

Azriel x Reader

wc: 900

a/n: thank yall for 300 followers!!

prompt list

You pushed your dinner around on your plate with a fork, unable to ignore the nausea in your stomach that lingered whenever Azriel was gone on a mission. He was supposed to return this morning, and the more time that passed, the larger the pit in your stomach felt. What if he was hurt? Why is he still shielding his thoughts from Rhys? You can’t control the spiral of thoughts.

Just as you are about to stand to throw the food away, you hear a commotion in the other room. Abandoning your plate, you rush towards the living room. When you enter, you see Azriel standing there, reassuring Cassian and Rhys that he is fine. You immediately run, enveloping him in a bear hug. His shadows immediately circle around you and Azriel chuckles, wrapping his arms around you as well. You hear Cass and Rhys quietly leave the room and Azriel assures them that he will fill them in on the mission later.

“You aren’t allowed to leave for that long anymore.” You mumble into his chest. “I was worried something happened.”

“I’m fine, y/n/n. I got held up, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle.” He reassures. “You worry too much.”

“How can I not? My best friend who I love dearly is gone for days at a time with no contact and-“ he cuts you off.

“You what?” He pulls away and stares at you.

“What?” You look at him confused, clearly unaware of what exactly you said, too focused on fussing over him.

“You said you love me.”

Well shit, you think. You have had a crush on Azriel for many years, the two of you constantly flirting and acting in ways beyond what most would consider appropriate for friends. However, it was only recently that you realized that you love him. And you were almost certain he loved you too, but you were always too scared to find out.

“Yeah. I do.” You say hesitantly, biting your bottom lip. Azriel pauses for a long moment before looking at the floor.

“I’m sorry. I…” he hesitates. “I don’t feel the same way.” Your heart sinks.

You knew what he was doing. Azriel’s insecurities run deeper than most people realize. But as his best friend, you were very aware of his habit of self-sabotaging when it came to dating, convinced that he was not good enough for them or that he would only cause them pain. In the past, you hadn’t tried too hard to stop him. Rather, you would selfishly relish in the fact that his time wasn’t being taken up by some other female anymore.

“Then look me in the eyes and tell me that.” You see his hand clench into a fist, and then flex. He was obviously fighting with his inner demons in his head, and if it went on for too long, the demons would win. Not this time, you thought. Not as you felt him slipping through your fingers. You place a gentle hand on his cheek and guide him to look at you.

“Y/n, I don’t-“ his shadows swarmed over his mouth, refusing to let the words leave. You smirked.

“See, even your shadows know you’re full of shit. Wanna try that again?” You said playfully, trying to lighten the mood. He reins the shadows in and takes a deep breath.

“Of course I love you.” You feel the tension ease from your shoulders. “But you deserve more. You deserve someone who doesn’t have a complicated past, who isn’t always leaving on missions, who doesn’t do such horrible things for their job.” His voice shakes slightly.

“I love you because of those things, not in spite of them. Yes, you have a complicated past, but it only proves your strength in overcoming it. Yes, you’re always gone on missions, but it’s because you are fiercely loyal to keeping your court safe. And yes, you may do some gruesome work on those missions, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s still work that helps the Night Court and keeps us safe.” You can see his eyes light up slightly as you explain the reasons you love him.

“You may think I deserve better, but that isn’t your decision. And I’ve decided that I only want you.” You state matter-of-factly, stepping closer and wrapping your arms around him again. “There’s nothing you can say to stop that. I’ve been your friend for centuries and those things have never bothered me before, why would they now?” He smiles at your words and returns your hug.

“I love your stubbornness.” He mumbles before pulling you into a kiss.

“Keep that in mind down the road when you start to hate it, okay?” You reply with a cheeky grin, pulling a laugh from Azriel.

this one was kinda tough bc personally i don't think azriel would ever be able to lie about loving someone, the poor guy craves to have someone to love who loves him too. But i also didnt wanna have reader the line, because anyone who knows azriel would never push him away like that if it wasn’t true because they know how badly he wants love. so idk how i feel about this one, lmk what yall think.

prompt list

tag list: @fxckmiup

[suikung]

Yan Obito in a relationship

Obito always kept a close eye on you. He was just so fearful of something happening to you after he experienced the loss of Rin. However his techniques were unbeknownst to you. You weren’t a shinobi, leaving Obito much more assured you wouldn’t be killed in battle, but you didn’t know basics of defending yourself so in reality he couldn’t ever find middle ground.

He would use his burrowing abilities to follow you around when you weren’t spending time together, or so you thought. Poking his head out the ground when you would stop in a place. Observing about the people you would interact with just incase they were a threat. Even if they weren’t, to him they were. Perhaps they would try to take you away from him. And if the conservation with said person, especially a man dragged on for too long, Obito would somehow appear around the corner. Acting surprised his darling was there and begin clinging to you. “I didn’t know you were here (Y/n)! Come on let’s get out of here.” When he managed to pull you away, he’d turn his head back to shot a nasty glare at said fellow.

When it was just the two of you, Obito adored doing sappy couple things. He loved to cook with you, loved going out on spontaneous dates, trying new places. He’s someone who’s down for almost anything as long as it’s with you. He enjoys traveling, his status as shinobi easily allowing him to protect you and it gives a good reason to have you by his side for days on end.

Constantly needing reassurance is one of his biggest flaws. He always reminded you how much he loved and cherished you and he expects the same back. If he feels even something slight off in the relationship, it could sour the whole thing. This is an Obito still learning to distinguish himself from when he took on the personality of Madara.

Obito is not a yandere who will be dark from the beginning, but something happening to you would turn him so. Even now you have no idea of his twisted feelings and actions from you until someone out for Obito attacked you. It sent him spiraling, no longer able to control his desires. Obito murdered your captors in front of you, blood stained his face and hands. You had never seen him like this. From that day he placed you in a cottage he had built to have you both move in freely but that plan was thrown out.

Your freedom cut short on the excuse that “you’d never know when they’d strike again.” That’s at least what he said every time you asked to go outside. But inside Obito felt horrible objecting you to such conditions. He fought with himself, a side wanting to let you be free again and one wanting you to be safe with him. Ultimately Obito is a man with a heart, and he’d find some way to keep himself by your side always when he lets you back out.

Accidentally deleted the request sorry yall.

[slaybestieslay946]

uhhh you asked for requests SO luke x fem reader where she joins him with kronos pls😓🙏

thank you for ur request, sorry it took kind of a long time to get to it! i took it in kind of a dark/tragic direction, but hope you enjoy anyway!

Revenge, or Justice?

MASTERLIST

word count: 2100

pairing: luke castellan x nemesis!reader

warnings: kind of manipulative behaviour? they're not good people yall!!

a/n: decided to step out of my delusion for five minutes and confront the fact that Luke Castellan is not my perfect little princess :((

I

You understood Luke Castellan, in ways no one else did. 

Around camp, he had always been the golden boy, charming, talented, kind. But you could see through him, and his act. 

As a daughter of Nemesis, you could practically smell the need for revenge. Every time you saw him, it was like a flashing beacon. The twitch of his face each time someone mentioned his quest, or he caught a glimpse of that scar in the mirror. 

The way he tossed and turned in his sleep, waking up from nightmares to stare at the ceiling angrily. 

It was so obvious to you, and you always wondered how no one else saw it. 

For years, you hardly interacted. Your worlds would never collide, even if you understood him better than most people. He probably didn’t even realise you knew his secrets. That was until he approached you up front, a few days after your 18th birthday. 

“Hey, Y/N.” He said as he strode up to your table, greeting you like you were old friends. Which you probably should be, considering you’d shared a cabin together for the past 5 years. 

“Oh, hi.” 

“Mind if I sit here?” He asked, gesturing to the seat opposite you. 

You shrugged noncommittally. 

“So, what’s up?” You asked, pushing your food around your plate. 

“Nothing really.” He was obviously lying. 

“Why are you here then?”

“Do you not want me here?”

“I never said that. I was just wondering why you’re suddenly showing an interest when we’ve never spoken to each other before.” You explained calmly, you didn’t sound bitter about it, because you weren’t. 

“Hm, that’s true.” He muttered, resting his chin on his palm, “I suppose I just wanted to ask you what you think of it all.”

“All of what?”

“Camp. Life. Whatever.” 

“This place? It’s alright. I’ve been in worse places.”

“Hm, that’s true.” He mumbled, seeming slightly lost in thought, as if trying to decode your answer. 

“Luke, can you please just cut to the chase? What do you want to ask me?”

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it, sorry for bothering you.” He said, and quickly stood up, walking away in such a hurry that he left his tray behind. 

That first interaction confirmed all of your suspicions, Luke Castellan was hiding something, and you were going to find out what that was. 

II

Eventually, you managed to get it out of him. You cornered him in the woods one day after the campfire, and demanded to know what he was plotting. Of course, you couldn’t have known that he would declare his hatred for the gods and how he wished they could be overthrown, but it wasn’t exactly surprising. You’d always known something was off about the boy, even when you couldn’t properly pinpoint it. 

“I just, I thought you’d understand, y’know-”

“‘Cause I’m the daughter of revenge?”

“Well, yes, but also-”

“No, you're right. I do understand. The gods have treated me like shit my whole life. They dump us minor children in your cabin, along with all the ones they’re too ashamed to claim. And all you major children, you're treated like you don’t exist, probably because there are too many of you to count.” You explained, looking directly at him. 

He returned your gaze, and in his eyes you saw the realisation that you knew him better than he ever thought. And that he knew you in return. 

“I always saw you looking at me, did you know?” He asked, not breaking eye contact. 

“That you were the same as me? I had a feeling. Ever since you came back from the quest you seemed different. Angrier.”

“Huh. I didn’t think I was so obvious.” 

“You weren’t. I just know a want for revenge when I see it. It’s in my blood.”

“You didn’t see anything then, because I don’t want revenge. I want justice.”

“Same difference, Castellan.”

III

It didn’t take long for you and Luke to begin making plans. He had later confessed to you that they all came from Kronos who had visited him in his dreams, insisting that the only way to overthrow the gods was to resurrect him.

You hadn’t been too happy about that. You didn’t like the gods, but that didn’t mean the titans would be any better. But Luke assured you he was only using Kronos, stringing him along to help achieve your joint goal. 

Did you believe him? You believed that was his intention, but whether he could actually execute that was a different matter entirely. 

Despite your slight reservations, you still chose to help Luke with his main plan, which was to steal the master bolt. 

Strategising wasn’t exactly your biggest strength, but luckily Luke had learnt a thing or two from Annabeth, and he was able to formulate the plot to steal Zeus’ bolt during the winter solstice. It was something which suited him, being the son of thieves. 

Meanwhile, it seemed your main role was to be his emotional support. You weren’t overly thrilled about it, but if it helped to achieve your end goal, you could deal with it. 

Soon you realised just how necessary you were to Luke’s plan. He would’ve certainly cracked by now if you weren’t there to reassure him that what he was doing was right. As much as he seemed solid in his convictions, you could tell that without Kronos nudging him, he would never have acted on any of them. 

Although, if it weren’t for Luke, you wouldn’t have either. 

“Do you trust me, Y/N?” He would ask as you went over the plan once again, desperate for some kind of validation. 

“Yes. I trust you a lot. You can do this.” 

“And we’re right to do this?” 

“Yes. You want justice, remember?”

“Yeah. That’s what I want.”

He preferred it when you called it justice and not revenge. He was still so righteous in some ways. Old habits die hard. 

IV

Luke only truly proved his dedication to the plan when he was revealed as the thief. He abandoned his sister and betrayed all of camp for the cause, and as you both fell through the portal backbiter had created, your trust in him was cemented. 

You were in it for the long haul now, there was no going back. And as sad as you were to see Annabeth’s poor little face, you were more disappointed that she hadn’t understood. You’d thought she was a smart girl, so how could she not see that what you and Luke were doing was right?

The next few months were rough, and it took you back to the old days when you were alone and on the run. Except this time you had someone beside you each step of the way. During that time was when you stopped seeing Luke as merely an ally that you tolerated, and more of a friend you trusted. 

He was strong and intelligent, and more firm about his convictions than ever before. And each day, your certainty that you made the right choice grew and grew. You hoped your mother was proud. 

Luke was right. You were fighting for justice. Justice for the minor gods and their children who were constantly overlooked. 

But equally you understood a large part of your decision to go against the gods had been about selfish revenge. And you were ok with that. Revenge was your thing, it always had been. 

V

Over time, your feelings for Luke continued to grow, and you could tell he felt the same way. You’d always been able to read him like a book, and you didn’t know if that was because you were good with people, or because he laid his soul bare to you. 

You hoped it was the latter, and as he hugged you to his side during rough nights on the Princess Andromeda, you knew all your hopes had come true. 

But you also knew that any ‘love’ was just a footnote in your stories. You were both much more focused on your goals. 

This time, it was ‘your’ plan that was put into practice. Kronos wanted to revive Thalia, to put another demigod into play that could fulfil the prophecy. But it was your idea to poison the tree and allow the campers to retrieve the golden fleece for you. 

After all, you knew every demigod wanted glory, to appease their parents. What better way to goad them into doing your dirty work than with the promise of a great quest?

You were pleased to finally have a proper role in the planning, and you realised that this was your greatest strength, understanding people. 

After all, it was what had led you to Luke, and now what allowed you to aid Kronos, and it worked. You were one step closer to realising your dream. 

XI

Luke had been distant ever since he found out Thalia was alive again. He suddenly seemed conflicted, torn between past and present. 

You had always thought it would be Annabeth that came between him and his goal, but it seemed Thalia was the real problem. 

He was determined to recruit her too, insisting that she’d fit in perfectly, and that she was certain to see things his way. You weren’t so sure. In your eyes, Thalia would only serve as a distraction for Luke, something to pull him away from his work. And something to pull him away from you. 

You’d always thought that it would be just you and him. That you needed each other, in a way that went deeper than a silly teen romance. You understood him, you always had. When you looked into his eyes, you saw yourself, your ideals, your future, reflected back at you. And you thought it was the same for him. 

But apparently not, apparently you didn’t know him best. She did. 

“Are you sure you want to recruit her, Luke? What if something happens?”

“Like what?” He asked, his voice derisive and mocking.

“Oh, I don’t know, her saying no and then running you through?” 

“She won’t say no.” He said firmly, brushing you off once more. 

So when you heard Luke was injured, your immediate thought was that Thalia had run him through. And, of course, you were right.

Ethan, your half-brother, had brought him to you, back to the Princess Andromeda, and as twisted as it was, the first thing you wanted to say was I told you so. 

That was of course, until you saw his broken body in the infirmary, and all thoughts of anger were forgotten. 

“Oh, god, are you okay? Please tell me you're okay.” You cried, rushing over to him, and crouching beside his bed. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll survive. Just please don’t say ‘I told you so’ yet.”

“Okay soldier,” You responded, your voice so choked with emotion that you couldn’t help but let the term of endearment slip out.

“Do you-” He paused to take in a deep breath, his body shaking as he did so, “Do you still trust me?” 

You nodded furiously. 

“You’ll be with me till the end, won’t you?”

“Of course I will Luke. Till the very end.”

VII

You wonder if you knew then just how it would end. Possibly you did. You were both doomed from the moment he sat down at your table. 

But you kept your promise to him. You stayed with him until the end, you survived through all those months of watching him change from the boy you trusted into the man you feared. 

You stood by and watched as he grew cruel to everyone around him. Normally you were the exception, but you weren’t entirely immune to his scathing words and glances. 

You sat by his body as he bled out, the golden blood of a titan shifting into the red blood of a mortal. And you didn’t resist as you too were taken. 

Sometimes you wondered what your relationship would be like in a world without gods. Or at least one where they cared about their children. 

Would you have even met? Would you care for each other without that common thread of anger running between you? You hoped so. You hoped that your twisted relationship was just a product of circumstance, and that the feelings were real. You hoped that they could have formed without the codependency and the paranoia. 

But the truth was you were from different worlds, tied together by your goals, so desperate to achieve justice. Or revenge. 

And the real tragedy was not your failed love story, but the fact that even after so much sacrifice, you still couldn’t achieve what you wanted. 

A world where you didn’t need to be an archangel of revenge at the age of 18. A world where you could simply live. 

[sam-colby69]

Star shopping

A/N: This is just something short while I work on something big coming up, I’m also writing this like half asleep so it might be bad but I promise I’ll make it up with some good fics soon. Anyways I hope yall enjoy! (Sorry in advance if it’s too angtsy and this is super similiar to my other fic😣)

Pairings: Bf Sam Golbach x Fem!! reader.

Warnings: Angst, mention of sh, mentally unwell reader, mention of suicide, pet names, fluff at end, comforting, crying, mentions of abuse and sa and my english.

Summary: You had always been struggling with your life, you’ve had bad trauma since childhood. You’ve tried taking your life already at the ripe age of 14. But since you met Sam you slowly got better until you had these bad dreams.

GIF IS NOT MINE (Creds to owner)

You and Sam were sleeping in bed, but you had a little trouble sleeping. So you decided to get up and get some water. Getting up from bed and going out of his bedroom down to the kitchen.

You walked to the kitchen and got a glass of water, but when you looked at the counter you saw a kitchen knife. You had stayed clean for over a year now, but somehow knives always triggered you. But Sam was always there to stop you from doing something with it.

But since he wasn’t here and you were so close to it you just grabbed it, not even thinking before you looked down at your arm. putting the knife on your wrist before you slit it across, letting out a little whimper out of your mouth as you felt that similiar sting in your wrist. You couldn’t even control yourself anymore, you felt tears stream down your face. You slowly fell down to the floor, sitting with your back against the kitchen island as you cried.

You tried to be and quiet as possible, but you’ve always been loud while you cried. The trauma started getting back in ypur head, the times you’ve gotten taken advantage of only showing over and over in your head.

The times your parents hit you, the times your brother touched being the only thought in your head right now.

You brought your face to your knees, wrapping your arms around your head while you rocked back and forth. The tears only continue to run down your face.

You always felt like their hands still were on you, like you couldnt wash them off. You felt so ashamed about this. You reached for the kitchen knife again which you dropped on the floor, putting it against your wrist again. Sliding it across multiplie times, leaving many scars on your skin.

”I don’t want to be here anymore..” you whispered to yourself as you cried, you dropped the knife on the floor digging your nails into your knees.

You continued to cry but you heard someone walk down the stairs, quickly wiping your tears and trying your best to hide the cuts you just made. You looked to the staircase to see who it was and it was Sam.

You didn’t want him to see you like this right now, so you tried to hide that fact that you were crying but of course just more tears started running down your face as the thoughts still were in your head. You let out some crying noises which Sam quickly noticed, walking over to the kitchen to see you sitting on the floor. He could see how upset you were, the tears staining your face but luckily he didnt find out about the cuts yet.

”Y/n..why are you crying?” he said kneeling down on the floor right next to you, pulling you into a hug. He was clearly just waking up.

The embrace was tight and he pulled you even closer, running his hands through your hair. That was when you broke down, falling into his arms tears streaming down your face again.

”Baby what’s wrong..” he asked as he started rocking side to side, he really knew how to comfort you and how to make you feel better. Cause you already felt a little better just by his embrace.

”I..I don’t know..” You mumbled trying your best not to let the crying take over you speaking, you words slightly mumbled. He placed small kisses on your head before pulling slightly back to look you in the eyes, he lifted you up into his arms still not even noticing the cuts on your wrists yet.

He held you close as he started walking up to your guys bedroom again, holding you carefully and tightly. You continued to cry, though a little more silent this time as you had your face buried in his shoulder.

You and entered the bedroom and he went over to the bed to sit down with you, letting you sit on his lap.

He pulled you slightly away from him, holding your face in his palms stroking you cheeks with this thumbs. You felt him stop stroking your cheeks to grabbing you wrists, inspecting the one wrist you had cut on.

He could clearly tell that it was new, there was still some fresh blood and he knew he hasnt seen them before.

”Y/n..did you cut yourself again. You promised me you had stopped..” he said and you thought he was dissapointed but he looked more sad and upset.

”I..it’s just some scratches I got..” you tried to lie but he clearly knew you were lying, so he just looked you right into your eyes.

”Baby..please don’t lie to me. You know it makes me so upset when you cut yourself..you dont even have to do it. Your already perfect enough and the scars do give you the gift to be a little more special..but it’s not healthy for you..” He started just rambling on about how perfect you are, which made you tear up even more. He was just too sweet for this world.

”I know..can we please just forget about this and go sleep?..I’m tired” you say and he just nodded letting you go and letting you go to your side of the bed before laying on his.

He pulled you close to him, your back against his front and his head ontop of yours.

”I love you princess..goodnight” Sam said and gave you a small kiss on your head before hugging you closer. ”I love you too baby..goodnight” you said back with a smile, and you shortly passed out right after cause you were so tired.

A/N: I HURRIED THIS CAUSE I NEED SLEEP AND I ACTUALLY FORCED MYSELF TO FINISH THIS BEFORE FALLING ASLEEP BUT ANYWAYS I HOPE YALL LIKE IT AND GOODNIGHT🫶🫶

[possumdrawsstuff]

THAT SCAR REF SHEET I WAS TALKING ABT FOR JIM!

all of these r based off stuff that happened in canon, if you think I’ve missed any cool opportunities then feel free to point them out! I add them because I believe that while they probably couldn’t have been included in the show for the pg rating and some of the ways he would’ve gained them being somewhat violent (even for trollhunters). I feel they add to his character and in how they would grow over time show how he would gain more and more experience as a trollhunter, yet also gaining more and more pressure and experiences that are probably not the best on jim mentally.

(Ps. I have no lightning scars In my design because lichtenberg scars, while cool looking, don’t usually last)

(Ps ps, the model I used to plan them out is from sketch fab somewhere but as I had originally not made this to post I didn’t save it, if anybody knows the creator, or is the creator, feel free to hit me up and I’ll credit you in the post.

ANYWAY MOVING ON TO THE SCARS AND MY SILLY LITTLE REASONS FOR THEM BEING THEREEE!

This is prolly gonna be angsty but I have an angsty ao3 background (to whoever read my Peter Parker nwh fic yall know ,and I am sorry I haven’t updated lol)

face/ eyebrow scar: I love that they gave him a scar in the movie, however, I didn’t like how it looked very much, especially with how he got it. I mean ARRRGHHH! Literally punched him so hard (love him Frfr but bro was not messing around even w Jim) that stone on stone had enough force to scratch some off of his face, this is why I usually make it look messier and more like scratchy scars rather than the clean cut from wizards/the unspeakable movie

2. GOBLIN/GENERAL SCARS: ok y’all I haven’t seen many other people do these but they are ver important to me 😌. Just scars from sparring could be all of these, the heroes forge has literal flying axes like ?? and in earlier seasons he didn’t always have his armor on or have a helmet at his disposal so I think he would to have had to have been nicked pretty good at least once or twice. Then there’s the goblin scars, In my version they told Barbara that it was racoons that got him , but the idea is that for Jim to have landed in the hospital he must have been hurt pretty badly that night, so, I would imagine that even while facing nomura Jim was fighting against the effects of blood loss also.

3.Angor rot: if you couldn’t tell by the photo it doesn’t show up in this! HOWEVER in my silly little side project (I’m sure some of you can probably guess what it is and if you can’t, idk look at some of my reblogs and you’ll probably find it, BUT! because it takes place after canon (yes including the movie) but also has some crunchy plot twisting In the background, the angry rot man face thing (I cant remember the name of it right now for the life of me please) will show up whenever he comes near to Jim, even if time is messed up, angor rot is back and technically hasn’t died yet so yes Jim gets the spoopy glowy thing.

4.amulet scar: idk if anybody remembers but when the arcane order took Jim’s amulet, he got scars from it right? It can be seen on his beast design is all of the tendrils leeching out from the indent of the amulet, my thinking is if his human form also got scarred by ARRGHHH! Why didn’t this scar translate too? Then again it could’ve but Jim is obviously a big fan of blue jacket*tm* so we will never know, I think he did but idk 🤷‍♀️

5.Bellroc- HEY SO ANYBODY REMEMBER WHEN BELLROC LITERALLY IMPALES JIM ON HER FLAMING STAFF!?! AND HE JUST KEPT GOING AFTER GETTING THE ARMOR!?! LIKE HE DIDNT JUST GET IMPALED? (This is partly why I think he gets like an adrenaline rush magic thingy as seen in some fic i read at some point PLEASE TELL ME IF ITS YOUR FIC I LOST IT PLEASE) YA that’s gonna leave a mark! the wound I’m guessing instantly cauterized so while yes it would hurt really bad I take that as why he was just running around after the armor.

6.burnt hand, another thing that happened in the movie but didn’t really get wrapped up in the end, Jim burnt his left hand on the gaggletac (idk how to spell it) and it just stayed bandaged for the rest of the movie, so it is also included on this list

7.back scars from bular: this one is probably the stretchiest one in this list but I think that it would have been an AMAZING addition to the plot character development wise. In one scene we see bular literally crushing and sliding Jim up the bridges interior wall and Jim is literally like silently screaming in this scene (thank you Guillermo /im sad for my son) and I like to think that after rushing over and doing Romeo and Juliet, Jim got off stage, practically ran over some people trying to get home because he can feel it, the whole play. This gives him some insight on the dangers of troll hunting. Yes I know this was a lesson beforehand but this is in the arc along with the goblins where Jim is learning he’s going to have to make personal sacrifices to keep up this troll hunting thing, including his mental health probably , it will serve as a very physical reminder of the constant danger he is now and will probably forever be in (in case y’all couldn’t tell that I’ve watched Spider-Man nwh like 8 times I’m out for blood on this one)

8.face scar from morgana: slinging the mood back around and also calling back to the “scars gained while Jim is a troll also get applied to his human form”, in like one of the last episodes maybe 2nd to last or the very last one in the final battle with morgana, she scratches Jim’s cheek with a throwing dagger and from what I can remember I thought it actually stayed on his face throughout the end of the series, I could be deluxe but I still like to add it for some reminder of the OG final battle.

not mentioned here- little pit in the amulet indention from the dark shard, and various scars from the dark lands.

if you read that entire rant I’m sorry , enjoy!

[aaronpaceluvbot]

song lyrics (aaron x reader)

summary: in which you have a slight fight with Drum over your favorite practice room. you need it to practice your music and he needs it to practice whatever it is he does, but Aaron finds out and comes to your rescue. 

before you read: this is probably the most self indulgent fic i’ve ever written, forgive any inaccuracies. i'm assuming aaron can play piano because my school only lets you play percussion if you can play piano, school starts at 6:45 for me so it does in this fic as well, LOWKEY OOC AARON…, voice teachers are scary af , READER IS FEM, written in honor of me having a recital in a week and i am in fact losing my voice, DRUM APPEARS AND LIKE THE THING IS IS THAT I DONT REMEMBER WHO’S WHO SO HE’S JUST REFERRED TO AS DRUM , this flows so weirdly sorry yall i promise i had an outline , this is like the 20th fic that reader cries in (reader is so me.), i didn’t wince as much while writing the affection (PROGRESS!!!), THIS IS  NOT PROOFREADDD  reader is implied to be in choir and not in play an instrument anymore, SOME MUSICAL TERMS?? if you’re confused about them I Will Add Explanations. 

WC: 6.2k words. holy moly. 

songs referenced that are good to listen to:

sebben crudele

ah! tardai troppo

—

You always tried to get to school early to make use of the practice rooms especially since everyone seemed to want to use them at that time. You especially needed to practice considering the fact that you had a rehearsal today with your accompanist and you hadn’t practiced at all for it. You found that arguably the best practice room was open so you placed your stuff in there and tried to quickly get your binder and your anthology book for lessons. You noticed a person standing in front of the room. He notices you as well. “Are you using it?” He asks, looking at you expectantly.

“Yeah? My stuff is already in there,” you tell him, clutching your binder. If he really wanted to fight about a practice room at 6 in the morning, he could if he wanted to. You would gladly give it up if he was going to keep it going, but you’d make practicing absolute hell for him. 

“Well I need to use it to record something for an assignment,” he says, clearly expecting you to give up the practice room. You roll your eyes at him. He really couldn’t have used one of the other open practice rooms? Sure their acoustics were horrible in comparison to this one, but your stuff was already in there! 

“I needed to use it to practice something for voice lessons,” you respond, raising your binder and book up. He looks at it, confused. 

“Can’t you do that somewhere else?” He asks, giving you a look of disdain. You roll your eyes and decide to end the conversation. When you said you’d make practicing hell for him, you weren’t joking. You enter the practice room next to his and you pull out your sheet music. After doing some light hums and lip trills, you pull out a couple arias from your book. Quickly taking a sip of water, you sing a couple scales. Your voice seemed to be in good condition today. Perfect. You decide on the easier of the two arias to avoid straining your voice - Sebben Crudele. You sing through it to see if you had it memorized and thankfully you did! This would help you avoid the wrath of your voice teacher. You were going through the rough patches of the song when you heard a knock on the door. You look through the window and see the guy from earlier.

You open the door and give him a confused look. He clears his throat. “Do you mind keeping it down? Everytime I record my part check, I hear more of you than I hear myself!” He’s cut off by the sound of yelling down the hall.

“DRUM. DRUM. DRUM I SWEAR TO GOD.” You both look to see where the voice is coming from and you see the source coming this way. It was a brunette boy who looked outraged at the guy who knocked on your door. You both look at him confused. Why was he calling out for a drum???

“Aaron what’s wrong???” The guy asked, looking confused. 

“Tell me why I found your crumpled up sheet music on the floor covered in spit,” Aaron says, clearly pissed. He gives you a look and then Drum?? one as well. “Is he bothering you?” He asks. You sigh and nod. 

“She was bothering me! She kept like making all these high pitched noises!” Drum?? says, looking at you as if you committed a war crime. 

“This is what happens when you make the wrong person mad,” you mutter, rolling your eyes at the dude in front of you. Aaron sighs at the exchange. 

“Do you mean singing?” He asks him, giving him a dirty look.

“Yeah! That thing!! Can’t you do that anywhere?? So she doesn’t really need the practice room!” Drum tried arguing. 

“You can also play your little instruments anywhere, but I’m not complaining about that,” you retort.

“Aaron!! Do Something!!” He says. The boy rolls his eyes.

“Just leave her alone. She has a point. What’s your name?” Aaron asks, turning to you. You tell him your name and he nods. “If he keeps bothering you, or if any of the drumline bothers you, come to me and I’ll set things straight.” You nod at his comment, amused that he’d even say something like that. He was probably a section leader, you thought, judging by the way he commanded that guy to leave you alone. He reminded you of one of your old section leaders. You leave it at that and shut the door and continue practicing. 

Aaron sighed as he dragged Drum away from the practice rooms and into the band room. He gave him the dirtiest of looks. “Why would you embarrass us like that?” He asks, rubbing his temples as Drum struggled to come up with an explanation. “You know what Wiley said, to leave the vocalists alone if they’re practicing. They need the practice rooms just as much as we do.”

“Yeah but she was so loud! She was louder than me trying to play the part check!” He whines. Aaron does the thing that you do to dogs to get them to calm down. He pokes his neck with two fingers. 

“If she’s louder than your playing, then that’s your issue. An instrument playing at forte will always be louder than someone singing forte,” he grumbles, obviously fed up with his antics. This wasn’t the first time that a spat between Drum and a vocalist occurred. “Just practice elsewhere. Practice here for god’s sake.” Aaron decides to walk out of the room, but stay nearby to see if he actually practices. He does not. He let out a loud exhale as he tried to come up with a prank to use to get Drum to practice productively. The bell rang and interrupted his thinking. 

You let out a sigh as the bell rang. You didn’t want to go to class and would much rather practice your music. Instead of putting your belongings back into the choir room, you decided to just put them in your backpack. As you exited, he called out your name. You turn to face him and greet him with a smile. “Thanks for earlier,” you say, fidgeting with your hands.

He nods. “It was nothing.” The two of you walk in awkward silence until you exit the music hallway. 

“So what class are you headed to?” You ask him as you both go the same way.

“Poetry.” “Do you like it?” You ask. He didn’t seem like the type to take poetry in the first place, but we all have our interests.

“I think it’s a good outlet for me, even though I wasn’t the biggest fan of it when I took the class. I only took it because my counselor said I couldn’t take a different class.” You nod at his words. You had beef with your counselor so you understand why he felt that way. “What class are you going to?” He asks, looking you straight in the eye. You only realized this now, but he was really attractive. You brush it off and continue the conversation. You can talk about him to your friends later. 

“English,” you say, shuddering. He gives you a confused look.

“Who do you have?”

“Williams.” He makes a face that could only be described as pure loathing.

“Well I’m sorry for your loss. I hated her when I had her.” 

“I always feel horrible for the classes near us whenever she goes on one of her rants,” you murmur, thinking back to the time that she got really pissed about a kid’s essay and threw a heavy metal water bottle. 

“No yeah, my poetry class is right next door and every time she starts going on a tangent, my teacher just tells us to brace ourselves and he plays music,” he says, almost amused. You nod and let out a laugh. The two of you walk in silence to the English wing and separate once you two get to your respective classes. But before the two of you enter your respective classes he stops you. You give him a confused look.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, tilting your head. He shakes his head with a smile. “No, just hand me your phone,” he says, sticking his hand out.

“Didn’t think you’d be the type to ask for my number so soon,” you joke, obviously keeping your phone away from him. He laughs as you try to keep him from getting it.

“Well then, if you don’t want my number, then I guess you’ll have to fall victim to all the band kids who are gonna bother you in the practice rooms,” he says, shrugging and getting ready to leave.

“Wait! Aaron, no!” You say, grabbing his hand and placing your phone in it. He lets out a chuckle at how you caved. He puts his number into your phone and sends himself a text. He pulls out his phone and checks to see if it sent. It did. 

“If any band kids pester you again, just text me and I’ll gladly come to your rescue,” he says, smirking at you. 

“Thanks for the offer Prince Charming, but I don’t think you’ll have to.”

“Oh so you think I’m charming?” He asks, raising his eyebrows at you. You shake your head and try to hide your laughter as you head to class, but he stops you again. “What class do you have after this?”

“Math…”

“With who?” 

“Miller…”

“We’re in the same class.”

“What? How have I not noticed you?” You ask him, trying to recall if he ever was in your class.

“I don’t know, but I knew you looked familiar earlier. Let’s walk to math together afterwards?” You nod and finally get into your classroom just before the bell rang.

—

You wait for Aaron outside of your classroom. The door to his class is still closed, but right as you’re about to leave, the door swings open. He comes out of class, eyes scanning the area, looking for you. He smiles when he sees that you waited for him. “Glad that you didn’t forget about our little plan,” he says, walking next to you. 

“How could I? It’s not everyday that you talk to Mr. Prince Charming himself,” you say, laughing at your own joke. 

“If anything, Peter’s Prince Charming. I think I’m more of a Derek Charming,” he says shrugging. 

“Like from Ever After High?” You ask, looking amused.

“Yeah, that one.” 

“What do you know about Ever After High?” You tease.

“I’ll have you know that I watch it with my little sister,” he says, sticking his hands up in defense. A thought pops into your head.

“Wait, so where do you sit in math? I still don’t know how I didn't notice that you were in my class.”

“I’m like all the way in the back corner by the door.” You nod. 

“That’s a really good seat. I got stuck sitting by her desk. But looking out the windows is really nice, if she actually leaves the blinds open.” You both snicker at your comment. Your teacher was infamous for having an insanely dark classroom that everyone fell asleep in. Her blinds were always closed and her lights would always be off and instead, she would only have fairy lights on. You both entered the class and you both chatted at his spot until the bell rang. You wandered off to your desk and sat there, getting your things out.

“Ok class! I have a bad headache right now, so you guys can just do these practice problems with a partner and just check them with the answer key by the end of class,” she said, handing out sheets of paper. You turn to look for a partner and realize that your friend was absent today. You sigh and figure that you’ll just work alone on it. When you get ready to start the first problem, you notice a figure standing by your desk. You look up and see Aaron.

“Wanna be my partner?” He asks and you nod. You follow him to his seat and pull up a chair. He’s actually pretty good at math which is nice since math is definitely one of your weak spots. The two of you make small talk until he asks an interesting question. “Would you want to hypothetically help me pull a prank?” You raise an eyebrow. 

“On who?” “The guy from earlier. He’s in my section and he’s been causing some trouble lately and I need to keep him in line somehow.” You nod at his reasoning. It makes sense, but you’ve never heard of anyone pulling pranks to keep anyone in line. The worst thing a section leader has done in choir was probably just throw a stand with someone’s binder and music in it but that was different from a prank. 

“I’ll think about it. I just need more details, you know?” He nods. “What would you even do?” He says something regarding his drum. “But how would I be involved?”

“I just need you to do your thing and sing your little heart out. That shouldn’t be too difficult right?” You let out a small laugh at his question.

“It shouldn’t be. Any suggestions on what I should be singing?” You ask jokingly. But he seems to take it seriously.

“Do you have your music on you?” You nod and pull out your anthology book and hand it to him. He reads the title. 

“Coloratura arias for soprano. Neat.” He flips through the book, examining the music. He places the book between the two of you so you both can get a look. You already knew the contents of the book, so you chose to observe him. He grimaced as he looked at a page. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask, trying to see what page he was on. It was a page from the aria “Ah! Tardai Troppo”. All the melismas must’ve been what he was referencing. “Nothing. Your music just looks intimidating. But I think you should sing this one.” He gently shuts the book and hands it to you. Your hands brush for a split second. You’re definitely going to tell your friends about him. You put your book away in your bag and continue on with the math problems. 

— 

Later in the day, you walk to the music hallway with a skip in your step after your interactions with Aaron. He’s really sweet and funny and just… he’s amazing. You go to find your voice teacher in the choir room, but you see her speaking to Garth. Garth was one of your closest friends as you often kept him company when he wasn’t busy accompanying any of the choirs. Both of them looked concerned and only looked even more worried when they both saw you. “Did someone die?” You ask, looking around. No one else was there except for the three of you.

“No, it’s not that. I’m afraid I won’t be able to accompany you during solo/ensemble night. Something personal came up,” Garth says. You nod in understanding. Whatever it was, you hope that he’s ok. “It’s ok Garth! I just need to find someone else to accompany me right?” You ask, looking between the two of them. Your voice teacher nods and Garth clears his throat.

“Yep! And in fact, I think I have the perfect person for you. Do you know Aaron? Aaron Pace?” Garth asks. You nod. “I’m sure he’d be willing to accompany you. In fact, I think he has lunch this hour so you could ask him right now and you could give him my music as well.” He hands you the sheet music. 

“I’ll go hunt him down!” You say, giving a mock salute to the two of them. You exit the choir room and head into the practice rooms. You send Aaron a quick text. 

where are you?

He responds just as fast. 

practice rooms, why?

You sigh

i need to meet with you, it’s important. 

meet me in the big piano practice room. i’m already there. 

You circle around the practice rooms and find the one he was talking about. He was sitting on the piano bench on his phone and looking up. His eyes brightened when he saw you and he let out a chuckle when you tried to pull open the heavy door. “What’s up?” He asks, looking concerned after seeing the look on your face.

“I kind of have a favor to ask you. It’s fine if you don’t want to, but basically I need an accompanist for solo ensemble night and mine kind of bailed and he told me to ask you if you could be my accompanist,” you sputter out. He nods, deep in thought.

“I mean sure, why not? Solo ensemble night is like, a month away right?” You nod. “That should be enough time for me to learn the music. Do you have it with you?” You murmur something that seemed like a response and you handed him the sheet music. “Oh nice. This is the song we were looking at earlier, and most of it looks easy enough to learn in like 30 minutes or so. Tell you what, since we’re both a little occupied with our little prank today, when I get home I’ll learn it and if I can learn it pretty quickly, I’ll send you a text and you can come over. If not, we can just run it tomorrow during lunch.” “Yep! That sounds good. Thank you so much for agreeing to this even though I kinda just sprang it onto you,” you say sheepishly. 

“Well I’ll be off now. Good luck with whatever his name is.” He laughs at your comment and you walk out. Little did you know, he only agreed to it because it was you. 

—

Later in the day, you get a text from Aaron. 

i finished learning it. there were only a couple tricky spots, so you can come over now. here’s my address - xxxx

You read through the text and type out a response

would you mind picking me up? It’s totally fine if you can’t, my car’s just getting an oil change right now

You hear the chime of a notification

what's your address? i’ll be omw

You send him your address. After 15 minutes or so you hear the doorbell ring. You grab your things and then head downstairs to look through the peephole. You see him standing there. You open the door. “Hi,” you say, feeling immediately awkward after saying it.

“Hi,” he says back. It takes 5 seconds of awkward silence before the two of you burst out in laughter. “So are you ready to go?” He asks, fiddling with his hands.

“Mhm!! Let me just lock the door real quick and then we can go.” You exit the house and try to lock the door. You stand there, trying to hold all your things while trying to put the key into the lock and Aaron takes your music from you when he notices you struggling. You thank him and you both get into his car, with him opening the door for you. You two both sit in comfortable silence as he drives to his house. You both get out and he uses his house keys to get inside. He gives you a slight tour and leads you to the room where his piano is. He grabs a stand nearby and hands it to you. You decide to break the silence. 

“How was it?” You ask, and he hums in response as he’s setting up his music. He freezes like a deer in headlights. 

“How was what?” 

“Learning the music,” you say, deciding to copy him and set up your music as well. He nods at your response. You notice that he hasn’t responded and has what seems to be a thinking face. 

“It wasn’t horrible,” Aaron says, shrugging. You laugh at his response. “What? It wasn’t!” 

“I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing at how long it took for you to come up with a response,” you say, covering your mouth before your laughter turned into a fit of giggles. 

“You are the absolute worst,” he says jokingly, making an exaggerated sighing noise and marking something in his music. 

“But you love me for it!” You say, mimicking his actions. He rolls his eyes at you and clears his throat. 

“Is there anything that you do that isn’t written in the music?” He asks, picking his pencil up.

“There’s a few ritardandos and other things, but we could just go through the piece and fix it as we go,” you say, flipping through your music. A question lies on the tip of your tongue, but you decide not to ask. Aaron can tell that you were thinking about something though based off of your facial expression. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I was just curious about why you asked that,” you admit.

“Because I’m accompanying you… It’s not my first time doing this,” he says, laughing at your dumbfounded expression. “You’re the soloist, not me. I’ll always be sure to watch you and follow you.” 

“How? Are you gonna practice or something?” You tease, laughing at your own joke. 

“I wouldn’t mind doing so if it was you,” he retorts. “But if that���s all, then that should be fine. We should be able to get started.” 

You nod and you take a swig of water from your water bottle. He plays the intro to the piece. It goes shockingly well considering that he just learnt the piece and that you hadn’t practiced much, but you eventually get to the end of whatever good luck the two of you had. You got to a very painful melisma with way too many accidentals to count which made it hard to stay in key. 

[a melisma is basically a riff - it’s singing multiple notes on one syllable]. 

Aaron makes a face and stops playing when your voice trails off. “What happened?” He asks, looking genuinely concerned.

“Nothing! I’m fine, I just psyched myself out a little bit with that part. I think I just need to review it really slowly really quickly,” you say, shuddering at the fact. Normally you could sing it in front of literally anyone, but why were you scared to sing it in front of Aaron? He wasn’t going to blow up at you or anything for not being able to sing it.

“No yeah, I get that,” he says, nodding at your comment. 

“It’s just embarrassing that I messed up,” you say sheepishly, choosing to fiddle with a corner of your sheet music.

“Don’t worry about it, you sounded great,” he says, turning to face you and giving you what seems to be a genuine smile. You nod and murmur a quick thank you. “So do you want me to play your part for you, or do you want to play it?”

“I can play it.” With that, he scoots over on the piano bench and gives you space to sit. You play your starting note and hum it. You try to make your way through the melisma, but it’s been a while since you had to play an instrument. Aaron notices you struggling after a few rough attempts. 

“Here, let me,” he says, so quietly that it was almost a whisper. He gently removes your hands from the keys and instead places his on the keys. With his free hand, he places your hands on top of his and slowly breaks it down for you, letting you control the tempo. After doing this a few times, he looks at you expectantly. “Do you feel better?” He asks, turning to face you. 

He looks you straight in the eye. You nod and quickly get up from the bench, trying to hide the flustered look on your face. You think he doesn’t and the rest of the rehearsal goes smoothly. Afterwards, you both make arrangements to meet up again and rehearse before solo ensemble night. 

—

After a few more rehearsals, you became much more comfortable performing with Aaron. In fact, you became so comfortable that instead of having productive rehearsals, you’d spend the time mostly talking. You both leaned towards each other to listen to what the other would say. The two of you would talk about small things, like new music that you got or just about your day. But this rehearsal was different. You had been on the brink of losing your voice due to the fact that you’d been overusing it lately, but you tried not to let that get the best of you. You kept running through the piece with him over and over again, but it kept getting harder and harder to get up there. Eventually it got to a point where nothing would come out. When he couldn’t hear your voice, he turned to look at you, but all he saw was you taking deep breaths with teary eyes.

Aaron didn’t know what possessed him, but he immediately got up and went to you. As he got closer, he realized that you started crying harder and started sniffling as well. He starts trying to calm you down, but you decide to wrap your arms around him. He holds you and tries to soothe you as your tears keep coming and eventually they come to a stop. “Are you alright? What happened?” He asks as you pull away from him and just stare. He’s surprised when your voice comes out hoarse and raspy. 

“Nothing. I just needed to shut up for a little bit, go on vocal rest, you know? And I was stupid and I chose to ignore it and it just-” You say, trailing off. He nods and opens his arms towards you, giving you a silent offer for a hug. You accept it and he rubs your back as you try to keep calm.

“You don’t need to push yourself. Solo ensemble night is going to go well, don’t worry about it,” he murmurs as you choose to bury your head in his shoulder. He pats your head and is eventually able to coax all the negative feelings out of you. That night, you realized one thing. You absolutely and positively have a thing for Mr. Aaron Pace.

—

That night you decided that you needed to tell someone about what happened and what you should do. You were in absolute shambles. You didn’t know what to do. If you told him about your feelings and destroyed the friendship the two of you had, you didn’t know what you’d do. You decided to call Cadence since she’d probably know the most about him in the first place. 

Your phone rang a few times until Cadence answered. You had science with her and the two of you became friends due to the fact that you two both came to class when there were no other seats open, so you both just ended up sitting next to each other. “Hi!! What’s up?” Cadence asks, angling her camera until you could only see her forehead and her eyes. You laugh at her and take a screenshot to annoy her with later. “Why’d you screenshot it?” She asks, zooming out to give you a dirty look.

“No reason,” you say, smirking. “But seriously I wanna ask you about something.” “I’m all ears,” she says, placing her phone on her bed and staring directly into the camera.

“Ew… Don’t do that…” You say, covering your eyes and exaggeratedly shuddering at her actions. “Fine, but what is it that you wanted to talk about?”

“I think I have a crush on someone-” “Who? Is it Aaron?” She asks, wiggling her eyebrows. Your jaw drops. Was it that obvious? “It wasn’t… Actually it kinda was, but if he hasn’t said anything about it yet, then I’d say that he thinks highly of you at least. If he didn’t, he probably would’ve told you to drop it or to stop talking to him.”

“I said that out loud?” You ask, looking confused. She nods.

“Mhm. But seriously, I think you have a chance. Maybe all you need to do is tell him!” “But what if I ruin our friendship by doing that?”

“Well, do the benefits outweigh the risks? Because if you’re really worried about ruining the friendship or something, just ask yourself that before doing so. Other than that, I don’t know what to tell you.” You proceed to tell her about the incident and what happened and she gives the same insight. “He’s blunt. He’s not gonna act like that just because. In fact, I’m surprised he even agreed to being your accompanist in the first place. But there’s a first for everything, so I say you should just go for it.” With that, your conversation with Cadence ends. You let out a loud exhale as you let yourself fall onto your bed. You truly didn’t know what to do. 

—

You decided the best way to deal with this was to distance yourself from him. Cadence was right, you needed to be able to weigh both the pros and cons before confessing. You needed to clear your head, and you knew that you wouldn’t be able to do that if you kept talking to him. Your walk to class felt lonely without him and you felt your heart ache when you passed him in the hallway. He tried to wave to you, but you flat-out ignored him. After English, you made sure to take a different route to your shared math class. This routine continued until solo ensemble night. 

—

When the night came, you paced anxiously backstage. You were ready to get this over with and be free from your thoughts of Aaron. However, he didn’t make it easy. You were busy watching someone’s performance on stage and didn’t notice him walking over and standing next to you. Someone clearing their throat catches your attention. “You know, you shouldn’t be doing that. It messes with your voice,” you say, not realizing who you were speaking to.

“But I’m not singing,” he says. You turn and finally notice who’s next to you. 

“Aaron?” You ask, mouth open in shock. You didn’t think he’d willingly talk to you after you tried distancing yourself from him. 

“Did I do something to you? Did I cross a line during that one rehearsal? If I did something, please tell me. I can’t have you ignoring me like this, especially not when I feel- nevermind,” he murmurs, all of it coming out at once.

“You didn’t do anything. It was just me being stupid,” you mutter, rubbing your temples in embarrassment.

“Whatever it was, it probably wasn’t stupid. I’m sure you had a good reason,” he says, trying to get through to you. You shake your head, but you can’t. He takes your face in his hands and looks you in the eye. 

“It was stupid. It was so so stupid. I thought that distancing myself from you would help me figure out whether or not I should confess to you and it didn’t work at all and now I’m just left with all these feelings for you and I don’t know what to do,” you blurt out, immediately covering your mouth. You’re shocked that all these words exit your mouth, especially since you were so terrified of confessing to him in the first place. Aaron lets out a deep breath and hugs you tightly. 

“You know, you could’ve just told me. I don’t just act this way with anyone. I really do care for you. I have feelings for you as well,” he whispers into your ear. “Can I kiss you?” He asks, pulling away from the hug. You nod and wrap your arms around his neck and he places his hands on your waist. The two of you pull away from each other just before you’re called to the stage. “Good luck out there. Not that you’ll need it,” he says, smirking at you. He pats your head and quickly fixes your hair before the two of you walk out. 

“I could say the same to you,” you whisper to him in the wings. He smiles at you and then takes his seat on the piano bench and you take yours by the microphone. The performance goes well.

—

The two of you have a fit of laughter as you both make your way to the parking lot. “I hate these heels,” you say, giggling as you take them off and go barefoot on the concrete. You let out a shriek when Aaron picks you up.

“What? You said you hate your heels, so I just gave you a solution. I can’t have my pretty little girlfriend walking barefoot in the school parking lot. Who knows what you’ll get from walking here?” He jokes, and you let more giggles escape. 

“So that’s what I am, huh? Your girlfriend? And you think I’m pretty?” You ask, laughing as he pretends to think. 

“Mhm, and I think you’re very pretty,” he says, chuckling at you. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, and pecks you on the forehead, causing you to fake swoon. 

“You are the absolute worst, you know that right?” You say, mimicking his words from a while ago.

“You love me for it though,” he says, smiling at you. He puts you down when the two of you reach his car, only to open the door for you and let you in. “Where do you wanna eat?” You shrug and tell him that it didn’t matter and that he could just go through any drive-thru. After getting some fast food, the two of you headed to his house. The drive was shrouded in comfortable silence since both of you guys decided to eat in the parking lot and then drive home. The two of you agreed on having a sleepover after solo ensemble night beforehand so you two could talk about it afterwards and get food together.

Once the two of you got to his house and went through your nighttime routines, the two of you sat on his bed. “So are you sure about the whole having feelings for me too thing or…” You ask, trying to break the silence. He playfully rolls his eyes at you. “No, I just invited you to my house to spend the night because I actually hate you and want to punt you out the window while you sleep,” he says sarcastically. You laugh at his joke and embrace him. “But seriously, I do care for you. In fact, I have something to show for it.” He gets up from his spot on the bed and you follow as well, just now noticing his too short Star Wars pajama pants. He goes to his desk and you stand there awkwardly before he places a box in your hands. He notices you looking between him and the box.

“What is it?” You ask, examining the outside of the box. It was just a plain, small, shipping box - the kind you’d use for jewelry.

“Just open it,” he says, grinning and giving you his hand. You take it and let him lead you back to your spots on the bed. You open the box and find it filled with small strips of paper stapled to a larger piece. 

“What is this?” You ask, smiling as you read the paper. You feel your face heat up and you feel flustered when you read the bottom panel of the box. It read: ‘songs that remind me of you and why”. “Shut up,” you say, covering your mouth with your hand. “You did not.”

“I did,” he says, laughing at your reaction. “Go through the songs.” You do, and you notice that they’re all songs that would play during the time the two of you spent together. From discussions about Laufey to trying to get him to scream Taylor swift to arguing about composers, they were all there. You gently shut the box and wrap him in the tightest hug that you could. You quickly break away to give him a peck on the lips, and he decides to deepen it. You finally pull away from him, slightly out of breath and trying to get air back into your lungs.

“When did you make this?” You ask him. 

“Around when you were keeping your distance. We had this poetry assignment and I was inspired by it,” he says. “I wanted to preserve all our memories together. After all, I know that music means just as much to you as it does to me and I wanted something that would remind me of that.” You nod at his words. 

“I’m glad we’re able to share that then,” you murmur. You wish that you were able to hear the rest of his words, but sleep was catching up to you and you quickly knocked out. He didn’t mind though. The two of you had so much more time to discuss these things in the future.

[husbandhoshi]

OK strap in fellas..... if this is the last thing i do on tumblr dot com i will be satisfied. reading cat's writing is my life's purpose /SERIOUS. also just look at the synopsis like isnt this just something u wanna dig into...like a ripe watermelon.... ok anywho review under the cut as per usual <3 also if yall dont read this fic. CANCELED!

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

sorry this paragraph is so good! it sets up the conflict sooo well and i like all the fun little descriptors. the paragraphs before set the scene perfectly but i think this one is extra good at conveying yn's voice and her disdain for gyu!!

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

I LOVEEEE the dialogue in this fic. like i LOVE IT idc idc its corny in the best way possible. and it's FUNNY! like so often dialogue will Try Too Hard to be funny but i think this is soo camp and effortless like this whole exchange. also i love non-twice chaeyoung and i want her to be my friend!

"I'd 'accidentally' make my way into the deep end—suddenly I can't swim, I've ingested too much water and by the time Mingyu's able to rescue me…" she trails off, turning to you with starry eyes. "He gives me mouth-to-mouth…" "He'd break your ribs with chest compressions." Chaeyoung places a hand on your arm, grave. "It would be worth it."

yea like this is perfect. it's giving teen beach romance!!!!!!

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

me! she is me

He still never returned that pen you let him borrow in English that one time during senior year. So no, you really don't get all the hype around him. 

the fact that yn and mingyu have backstory is so fun to me! like i do think it makes the fact that she doesn't like him wayyy more plausible than just deciding to hate someone for being hot

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

finally a non-ridiculously combative yn <3

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

i loveeeee bestie seungkwan idc idc idc! i love that the side characters here feel like HOME!!!! the dialogue is so fun and natural and familiar

BOO SHAVE ICE U WILL ALWAYS BE FAMOUS TO ME!!!!

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

dick: out. dogs: exposed. ice: shaved

All of your friends are uncaring of the torment this man adds to your mortal coil, you lament. Maybe Seungkwan was right, maybe you should start finding some new friends on the incoming freshman Instagram page.

yn is so funny and real for this

“You’re going to California for school next year, right?” Mingyu asks, eyes brightening. “Congrats on that, by the way! It’s not every day you hear about someone local going out of state for college. Are you gonna keep surfing when you’re there?” “I, um—” you make a quick glance at Seungkwan—how long does it take to make a single shave ice—and his eyes meet yours, catching your silent cry for help.

this exchange is like perfect in establishing that weird tense conversation you have w people you run into in the wild and do NOT want to be talking to. also i think u characterize mingyu perfectly as likeeeee. local kind boy that is so kind you kind of hate him for it.

“Was it because he brought up surfing when you—” “Seungkwan.” 

this part is crazy bc it really is giving like. the moment when a teen tv show gets spicy and you realize there's like way more under the surface.

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

ok Poet this line is MENTAL like i am probably stealing that for another fic (/j but u kno what i mean)

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

yn is soooo simple but not in a bad way she's just. she's pragmatic but has a lot boiling under the surface and i think it's a nice complement to mingyu who is like simple in the way that he wears his heart on his sleeve but ultimately just lives and let lives. idk if this makes any sense but like i think it's a nice dynamic.

im not grabbing anything from the dialogue in this part but just KNOWWW that i lvoe it like it reads brilliantly it's like a movie!! too often im writing dialogue and the She Said and He Replied and whatevers feel so tedious and stick out soo much but this part rlly is just . chefs kiss. effortless and fun and lived in!

also im a joshua hong possessive stan. ACTUALLY medicine store joshua hong is with ME.....

and again the soonyoung tiger slander never stops. will he ever be able to escape the furry allegations.

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

starts biting ur ankles.... like the youthful dialogue. the way they keep skirting around talking abt capital C college. talking abt boys to avoid talking abt the future. Okay u were cooking!!!

“Ah, well, I heard the waves would be pretty good today. And you know me,” you respond awkwardly, gaze slipping down to the board at his side. “Always itching to ride the best waves.” Mingyu laughs at that, carding a hand through his hair, wet tips already starting to curl at the ends. “Yeah, I remember. You used to skip first period all the time when the surf was good. Mrs. Kim ended up giving up on you showing up for class during surfing season as long as you would make up the work later.”

yn is sooooo endearing like baby it's just a conversation..... and mingyu always Entrenched in the past. yn scared of the future and mingyu always looking back.... miley cyrus voice What Does It Mean

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

huuuuu its like how do u hate mingyu when hes just sooooo lame.....

Because the way Mingyu talks about surfing is unfamiliar to almost everything you thought you knew about him—like you’ve stumbled across something you weren’t supposed to see, like you’ve accidentally dug a nail into the soft skin of a tangerine with the secrecy he’s asked of you.

no right. bc it's easy to not like someone on the surface but when they unpeel like that it almost feels like u owe it to them to be gentle.... also the citrus metaphor to end the scene OK crazy !!!!!!!!!

So you bite down your objections about the festivities your dad insists on hosting, try to match your mom’s enthusiasm for DIY dorm decor and tourist destinations around campus, and let your parents enjoy what’s left of the summer with the child they’ve grown to know.

i already said this in the dms but yn is so woke for this like i think it's such a nice glimpse into her world of like. Good Daughtering. of family and duty and sacrifice. there's such a netted community here from the friendships that yn has to the people that she knows and her connection to the land and now her Family that the sense of loss becomes that much deeper!!!!!

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

nooo i hate when fictional food tastes bad bc it rlly means things are getting heated

The heat of everyone’s gaze bores into you, but all you can think of is the wood paneling peeling on the side of the house, the cabinets that your parents never got around to replacing even after the past termite infestation left them eroded and worn, the pictures and decorations your mom picked out and places purposefully on the walls to cover up the bits of chipping paint.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO not the descriptors....... yn is just a cog and home is the clock!!!!!!

And you want too, of course you do—what person doesn’t? But ‘want’ is a thing of privilege, you’ve grown to accept. An object of desire for those who can afford it.

THE YOKE OF DUTY IS HEAVY........LOW ARE THE SHOULDERS OF THOSE WHO MUST BEAR IT!!!!!!!!!!!!

if you know anyone else from the islands going there, if you’ve made friends yet, to not hesitate if you miss anything from home because she’ll send a care package and all you can hear is the muffled roaring of ocean waves and seafoam at your fingertips and god you can’t do this.  ...

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

Things flood your mind in short bursts yet all at once—care packages and chipping paint and scholarship funds and that look on your parents’ face when you told them you’d gotten into the business program and shit you just want to make them proud and pay them back for everything they’ve done and— “Y/N! Hey, the beach is closing soon where are you—”

the pacing of these parts is excellent. that is all. yn surfing and falling is like so wonderfully executed that i cant pick a part to grab!

ALSO the first time i never noticed she broke her surfboard??? the metaphor is now Layered?????????? like the old board is the way things were, her old ways and hopes and expectations and perception of those around her... her literal YOUTH. and in a way it IS tying her down ... a wonderful inescapable vice..... so then when she gets a new one at the end it rlly is a new beginning :')

The flush of embarrassment heats in your chest as you think more about it—the fact that you of all people would have to be rescued like this, that you would wipe out this severely on a wave and routine this simple, something you had regarded innate like clockwork.

i think u added this after i betaed but excellent add it makes perfect sense and im w her!!!!

The question is asked calmly, maybe even with a little underlying heat in it, but you think you would have preferred if he was just angry at you.

right bc its like i said earlier. how do u hate someone so nice.

Mingyu knocks over a first-aid kit and stubs his toe onto the desk, stifling a whimper as he continues to hobble around “—I am so sorry please don’t cry—”

HE IS SO MF STUPID. HOW IS HE RESCUING PEOPLE .... and yn saying that its just a slice of normalcy.... like so true. mingyu who will remind her of the past and simpler times and how good she is at surfing... again just figuratively ///and/// literally pulling her from the stormy tide........

your eyes drift to the mole on the cusp of his jaw, the second on the tip of his nose. You wonder why you'd only noticed them now.

i audibly said AWOOO? like the sudden intimacy???

(blink—blink—stay)

ok this ate. like it severely ate. also im not grabbing any of this next scene bc there's too much but i love goofy ass imaginary chaeyoung and stinky mingyu..... Real. all of it is so REAL.

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

ok i lied abt not grabbing anymore but come on the DOUBLE MEANING ........

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

idk i love this detail it makes the world so real!!!!

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

nooo bc i love this part soooo much. the things yn points out abt her own house (how run down it is) versus the things she points out abt mingyu's house???? she doesn't say it but it feels like a weird marker of distance between them, of another way they're Different. HE doesn't have the same chain to duty that she does. but then later when they find common ground...

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

see see then there's this part. likeee they're different but not So different. also mingyu grandpa GILF?

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

idk i liek how everyone knows each other it rlly does make the world feel lived in!!!

Maybe it’s the clatter of the kitchen cleaning up and the warm, yellow light of the diner that allows your shoulders to drop; or maybe, maybe— (You’ll be gone in a month, anyway. By the time you’re back, it’ll be winter, and you’ll come back to the eternal sunny skies, and this will all be behind you. But when the wound is still fresh and the sea salt still stings too much to tell the difference between honesty and shame, you allow yourself to indulge in your selfishness a little more tonight.)

this part ate you are so good at finding ways to pace yn's thought process and it's so natural and emotive. also the SEA SALT !!! literal poetry

not grabbing any of this next part bc like i cannot pick a good representative part bc the dialogue is so real and good that no little snip will do it justice. but i do like how the tone is balanced by the comedic relief of hayoung & co. it keeps it light enough as a romcom without it getting too unserious. also mingyu therapy ! mingyu therapy. what i said abt him wearing his heart on his sleeve vs yn keeping it all locked up... Yeah. bc there's something to learn from all the earnestness!!!

His desire to return the love given to him, the same steady weight of home that’s been like an anchor to him, all this time. It’s in him as much as it is in you.

exactly. Exactly!!!

Scrolling further down the notifications, you also find a single desperate email that Seungkwan sent to you at 8AM. (Subject: WAKE UP!!!!)

stop see i think this fic is so excellently paced bc its never in the weeds for TOO long like we are back to my two favorite clowns at the circus. also rizzard of oz like if this were a book this is one of the quotes on the jacket .... idc idc im right. the main trio continues to be my favorite FAVORITE favorite thing in the whole world

That night, it had just been you and Mingyu and the weight of everything you still couldn’t face, but now in the sun, the cold sea-chilled wind was now the warmth of daylight on your skin, all the things you had taken for granted given to you again.

character growth... like none of it is ever really gone. the ocean always has open arms!!!!

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

im screaming for them im cheering for them yn infinite rizz

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

no bc the love rlly RADIATES from this fic......there is something magical abt the prose where its like. SOOOOOO well-loved like a smooth little stone u keep in ur pocket. it's all the little knick-knacks and details and secrets woven into it that it feels REAL like yn is real to me idc

i dont have anything to say abt the next part that ISNT related to my parental trauma but all i can say is FIC AS THERAPY! FIC AS THERAPY! and the new board!!! what did i say!!! new board new you!!!!

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

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

huuu i love epilogue paragraphs.... routine....rubs my tummy like im winnie the pooh... but really i think the way that mingyu is tied into like surfing and routines and mornings and home is so masterful bc it rlly is like mingyu is a piece of home. he's patient and understanding and wise and warm and all the things yn is scared to leave behind (Read: like surfing and her friends and her family) but Also like the ending isn't really an ending. mingyu is traveling and yn is still surfing in california and all of the love is stil there jus Repackaged. LIKE THE SURFBOARD! this makes no sense but it makes sense to ME and that's all that matters.

anyway thank u for coming to my ted talk. i feel like this is a perfect little piece of summer and its perfect parts funny and heartwarming and healing. i know i keep saying this but it genuinely feels like it comes to life and there are so many fun details and pieces of yn's personality woven into this that it Does feel like home! it is something truly well-worn and well-loved and feels so real!!!! it is just full of heart and i love it for that!!!!! idk what more there is to say that hasn't been said. all the things u worried abt i feel like are actually the strength of the fic and i love how youthful BUT nuanced it is. idk! u are an amazing writer and a genre master. PERIOD! loved seeing this get put together and i loved reading it more <333

☼ dayglow

pairing: mingyu x f!reader

wc: ~19k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Chaeyoung.”

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

"Chaeyoung."

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

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

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

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

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

"You said that already."

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

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

"It shows dedication—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That is just some guy."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You feel so wronged. “What about you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Seungkwan.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, babe…”

“Et tu!”

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

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

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

“Bummer…”

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

“I am not—”

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

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

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

“Hong?”

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

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

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

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

“I’m in love…”

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

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

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

“But why not—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t expect anyone else to be here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like me?

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

“Huh? No, I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your grip on your spoon tightens.

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

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

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

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

“Y/N…?”

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

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

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

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

You drive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What were you thinking?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s no way this is happening right now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Great, thank you.”

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

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

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

“Yes…?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I knew it!”

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

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

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

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

“You know me so well.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See! I knew you would get it!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’d asked me to keep it a secret.”

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

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

It was just surfing, wasn’t it?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Did you… just become friends with Kim Mingyu?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes widen, rapidly sending a text back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mingyu grins and waves. “Hey!”

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

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

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

“Seungkwan,” you call dryly.

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

“But I thought—”

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

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

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

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

Like that.

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

You blink.  “I can explain.”

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

“Stop it!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the hell. What the actual hell.

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

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

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

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

“Hey.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N.”

Your breath catches. “Yeah, Mom?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N, what—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you guys talking about—”

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

“When…” you gape. “When did you—��

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you thinking about?”

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

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

“I do not!”

“Seungkwan and Chaeyoung can attest!”

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

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

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

“You’re leaving tomorrow morning, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You point at him triumphantly. “See!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You eye him warily. “On what?”

“If you’ll let me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[lab-trash]

Okay, yall, new part of my Techertz 5+1. This one’ s only okay, I think.

Kaz would be lying if he said that it was easy to hang out with Tecton. 

Not that he was a hard person to be around, just that he kind of drew attention in the crowds that Kaz ran with.

The only place that he really ever hung out at was The Domain, and Jordan was already really suspicious of heroes potentially existing. 

On top of that, if either of them wanted Lez around, they had to find a very dark and/or private place. It’s not like Lez could just hide his face, and wearing a full face mask in public was considered creepy. 

They couldn’t really hang out at Mighty Med because… Well, technically Megahertz was still wanted. 

In all honesty, the best places to hang out for them were probably alleyways or bars. 

(Lez once told Kaz a story where he’d gone to a bar that was dark enough that no one even noticed the parts on his face.)

But Kaz wasn’t old enough to enter a bar. 

They did meet a compromise. 

Wallace and Clyde let them use The Domain after hours as a kind of Hero Meet-Up Spot. 

Days without Megahertz, Skylar and Oliver often tagged along. They all played games and had food— it was a good time. 

Days with Megahertz, it was basically just the three of them (and Wallace and Clyde, but they weren’t really around)

On this particular day, Megahertz couldn’t come, so Kaz went ahead and invited Skylar and Oliver. 

He would live to regret that decision. 

Since it was a Tuesday, The Domain barely had any business, so they hung out before they closed. This was something that they’d done before and it worked out just fine. 

It did feel a bit odd, hanging out with two superheroes in a comic book shop. Especially since it was just him and the two superheroes. 

Oh, right, Oliver did not show up. Something about his mom, Kaz did not press. 

So he and Skylar played a video game while Tecton watched and commented on how it was going, which was honestly enjoyable. 

Skylar was sat on a chair, and Kaz was on the couch. Tecton was on the couch too, but he was sitting on the back of the couch.

Kaz, with his incredible video-game focus, did not notice when Lez came out from the back entrance. Tecton likely did notice but just assumed it was Wallace or Clyde, and therefore was pleasantly surprised when familiar, strong arms snake around his chest.

“Hey, little hero.”

“Lez!” He said, turning around, unable to help the joy in his voice. Skylar glanced up before letting the controller fall on the floor and getting into a battle position. 

She did of course take note of how fond Tecton was being of him. 

“Wait, what?” She asked, still in the stance, but a bit more relaxed. 

“He’s okay, Skylar,” Tecton said, wrapping his own arm around Lez’s waist. 

“Okay,” She said with a nod. She sat back down.

“Really?” Lez asked. “I fully expected you to still be suspicious of me.” Skylar shrugged.

“Tecton is a trusted hero. If he trusts you, you must be alright,” She said. “Or Tecton’s evil now,” She added before yanking over Tecton’s unoccupied hand. The symbol on the back of his hand was still its regular royal blue. “Nah, you’re good.” 

Lez laughed before pressing a small kiss to Tecton’s temple. 

“Y’know, we should probably be calling him Sam in here,” Kaz said, still playing the game despite the fact that Skylar’s character had completely stopped moving. 

“Right, sorry,” Skylar said. 

“To be fair, you usually call Skylar ‘Skylar,’ rather than her alter ego name,” Sam remarked. 

“You have an alter ego name?” Lez asked, basically further proving the point.

“I got it after my comics stopped,” Skylar said. 

“Oh, so it’s not—” Lez was cut off by the bell of the door, he reflexively covered his face before noticing it was Oliver. “Oh, hey.” 

“Wha— Hey?!” Oliver asked exasperatedly. “What’s your game?” He sneered. 

“No game,” He said. Sam held himself back from saying that he definitely had game. 

“Yeah right,” Oliver muttered. “Mighty Max guards re on their way,” He said, earning a big reaction from everyone. Kaz, who’d been continuing the game the whole time, urgently set the controller beside him, standing up.

“Oliver, what the heck!”

“He’s a villain!” 

“Does it look like he’s hurting anyone!” Kaz exclaimed, motioning to the… couple? Pair. 

“He’s got Tecton in a hold!” 

The pair looked at him unamused. 

“Is this a joke?” Lez asked, making Sam cover his mouth to hold back his laugh. 

“This ‘hold,’ is consensual!” Sam remarked, annoyed. 

That marked the end of the conversation, since the Mighty Max guards flashed into The Domain. They pulled over Lez quick enough that Sam couldn’t even fight back. 

“No, no, no, wait—” but they flashed away anyway. 

Sam and Kaz looked at the not empty space for a moment. Skylar only looked away from it just to glare at Oliver. 

“There has to be a way to get him out of there,” Kaz spoke up. “If you just told them about your relationship—”

“There’s barely a relationship. We’ve been… doing whatever it is we do for almost six months now, but we don’t… We don’t have labels still.”

“You guys still haven’t talked about it?” Kaz asked in disbelief.

“If we had, you’d be first to know!” Sam exclaimed. 

“Sam, he’s met your daughter, I’m gonna go ahead and say you’re boyfriends.” 

“Wait, what?” Oliver interrupted. He was not answered. 

“They met during a fight, that doesn’t count,” Sam accused. 

“I meant formally,” Kaz said. “He sleeps at your house like twice a week—”

“He’s homeless!”

“He’s your boyfriend!” Kaz argued. “Sam, c’mon. He’s your boyfriend.”

“I know,” Sam urged, “But I don’t know if he wants to be, and now he’s not available to ask.” 

“Why don’t you visit him?” Skylar asked, joining the conversation. 

“Mighty Max prisoners aren’t available for visiting until they’ve been there for two weeks,” Kaz responded immediately. 

“What if he gets put in the chamber of certain destruction?” Sam asked. 

“We should talk to Horace, he could probably help,” Kaz said. 

“Does Horace know?” Skylar asked. It was starting to make Oliver feel like an outsider, in his very own home away from home. 

“Yeah, he was the first person who found out,” Sam answered.

“You say that as if more than like 6 people know,” Kaz said with a small laugh. 

“Now is not the time, Kaz,” Sam dismissed. 

“Can we just pause for a second!” Oliver shouted. “What did I miss?” He asked urgently. 

“Oh, right,” Kaz said. He turned to Sam. “Oliver doesn’t know.” Sam hesitated. 

“Can you tell him?” He asked. Kaz blinked. 

“Seriously?” He deadpanned. Sam didn’t give much of an answer, so he just shrugged and followed his wishes. “Oliver, Sam; aka Tecton, as you know, is gay,” He said. “And he and Megahertz have been hooking up for like half a year,” He added, much faster that time. 

“Seriously?” Oliver asked. “Wait, is this why Megahertz had barely been in any issues lately?” He asked. 

“Oh, he was in an issue recently,” Kaz said with a laugh. “Remember the second to latest issue, where Tecton was out with someone and then was attacked?” Oliver shrugged.

“Yeah, but that was a girl.” 

“Actually it was good ol’ Lez. Ambrose changes the gender of Sam’s partners.” 

“Wait, so there has been boys in the past? In the comics?” Oliver asked. Kaz knew the answer, but left it to Sam.

“Yeah, uh…” He thought back. “‘Julia,’ ‘Jamie,’ ‘Lauren—’ basically any love interest past issue 53,” He said, using quotes around every girl’s name. 

“Is this really the most important thing right now?” Skylar asked, “Like, sure, to the failing gaydar of Oliver Evelyn Cornelius Short, Tecton being gay is shocking, but to everyone out here in the gay world, it’s like… the least surprising thing ever,” She basically ranted. 

“You’re gay too?” Oliver asked, eyes basically bugging out of his head. 

“You have two middle names?” Sam asked. 

“That’s not important right now,” Skylar stated. No one knew what exactly she was referring to, but probably both. “The faster you talk to someone the better,” She said to Sam. “And if you’re really worried about it, I’d think you should try now.”

Sam nodded. 

“You’re right,” He said. “Yeah,” He said. “Yeah,” He said again, rushing out of The Domain. 

“How long have you known?” Oliver asked. 

“Uhh, let’s see, 5 months? Four and a half? Around there,” He said. 

“I just found out like 8 minutes before you did,” Skylar said, “But I’m not surprised. Solar Flare told me that he kept texting someone during his last stay, and he had this big smile on his face.”

“So I’m the last to know?” Oliver asked. 

“Out of us?” Kaz asked, “Yes. Out of everyone? Absolutely not.”

[princedamnianos]

Hi! I’m loving your deep dives into the Captive Prince. I only just discovered the books and binged them this month haha. Anyway, I watched an interview Pacat did a couple years ago where she was asked what moment Laurent fell in love with if for Damen it was the chase scene, but she wouldn’t answer. I don’t actually know if I agree with that but when do you think Laurent (and Damen) started to really fall? My guess is when Damen threw his whole ass sword into the mercenaries chest 😂

Hi, anon! I’m sorry it took me so long to get to this—it’s not something I’d really thought about before, so it took me a lot of reading and thinking to answer! Thank you for the lovely ask and the opportunity to dive into this.

Damen, I think, is relatively easy to gauge. One of my favorite things about him is how genuinely full of love he is—he just has so much of it to give. I think it’s really easy for him to fall in love, but it tends to be very fleeting and surface-level—more of an infatuation. I agree with the usual assessment that he starts falling at Nesson. He’s seen a lot of sides to Laurent before then, but they’ve all been very cultivated personas—the cold, in-control master with Damen; the witty and unattainable prince at court; the calculating leader with his men. Nesson, specifically the rooftop chase, is the first time he gets a peek at Laurent’s true self, at how vibrant he can be.

That side of Laurent is playful and vivacious, and still determined and clever. He likes the game, the thrill, the challenge. And I think Damen is drawn to both that brightness, and to the game of trying to draw it out from under all of Laurent’s defenses. That’s when he starts to fall in love, but I think for a long time he treats his love for Laurent more as an infatuation. It’s something intriguing, but with an expiration date—the moment that he sheds this persona of Damen, he thinks he’s going to shed their relationship as well.

I think that Ravenel is when he realizes this is something different. The closer he gets to freedom, the more he realizes that he cares about what he’s been building in Vere, and he cares about Laurent. And the moment that really rises up is a kingdom or this—they go through highs and lows afterwards, but once he realizes how impossible that choice feels, I don’t think there was any going back for him. He was going to stay as long as Laurent needed him.

Laurent is a little more complex. A really key moment in my understanding of his side of things is that first POV chapter we get in KR. Even after everything that went down in PG, there’s this distance when he thinks of Damen—he doesn’t even think of him by name, but just as the Akielon slave. I think he’s trying really hard not to think of him as A Person. That displays to me how carefully he has removed himself from all his feelings about Damen and Damianos.

In spite of that careful distance, though, we have all of these incredibly soft moments from PG. I am coming to know you; he would have liked you; the entirety of 19.5. A lot of his partnership with Damen can be rationalized—Damen had genuinely useful skills, and they were in a position where Laurent was confident that their interests were aligned—but I can’t explain away those specific moments. I think that throughout PG, he’s drawn to Damen, and he carefully removes himself from who Damen is to allow that. Because the thing is, as I’ve said before, Damen is unbelievably loveable.

Laurent is s o alone. He has been for a long time, and now it’s more true than ever, with his last surviving family member having graduated from just discrediting him to trying to kill him. I think that on a very human level, Laurent is tired. People aren’t designed to be so isolated for so long, especially not under such awful conditions, not even people as strong as he is. And then Damen comes along. And in spite of everything, Damen is safe. Both after the assassination attempt and at Nesson, we see Laurent commenting on how straightforward Damen is—sometimes to a fault. He’s open about his feelings and his intentions, and it’s not some front or strategy, it’s just his nature. On top of that, he’s just so steady. He’s honest, he’s brave, he’s hardworking. And once he decides to pursue an alliance with Laurent, he commits to it wholeheartedly.

Damen is the first person in so long that Laurent is able to relax around, and I think Laurent is j u s t tired enough that he can’t deny himself the bit of comfort that their relationship brings. And Damen is so genuine that he can’t find a reason to deny it. It’s not so much something he chooses as it is something he needs, and I think that allows him to maintain this separation between himself and Damen even as he is feeling this genuine fondness and trust towards him.

I think a significant part of why Laurent allows it is also that he, like Damen, attaches an expiration date to their relationship. Even after he realizes that Damen loves him—which, in my opinion, is what happens in the sword-throwing incident—he doesn’t believe that Damen would give up his throne for a crush on a foreign prince. He doesn’t expect that he’ll ever have to actually deal with the reality of who Damen is. He just wants to soak up whatever strength he can from Damen in the time that they have together. He wants to give into these handful of moments where he can show his true self, and rely on someone else, and not have to be so On and constrained all the time.

(And someday, I’m going to write a post about how strongly Damen reminds him of Auguste and how comforting that must be in the moments where he allows himself to forget who Damen is)

That is, of course, why he’s so awful at the start of KR. He’s punishing himself for falling in love with Damen in spite of who he is, and punishing Damen for being so easy to fall in love with. Most of the start of KR is him waiting for Damianos, this monster he expected him to be, to emerge; and instead he’s forced to realize that the monster never did exist—there has only ever been this one Damen, this good and honorable man that he fell in love with. So I don’t think there was necessarily one moment where he fell in love with Damen. It was something that grew slowly, quietly inside him, , until the moment in KR that he finally makes the conscious choice to commit to it.

I think that moment comes at Karthas. We have just been through this slow burn of Damen proving, unintentionally, over and over, how truly good and worthy he is. The sword fight, the tent scene, after the griva. There are so many moments where Damen could respond with anger and cruelty, where he could take advantage of Laurent or hurt him, could prove Laurent’s judgements correct, and he never does. He definitely pushes back when Laurent is particularly terrible, but even when he thinks there is no chance Laurent will love him, even when a harsher reaction would be fully justified, he treats him with honour and respect. And then they get to Karthas, this first moment where Damen is vulnerable, when he needs Laurent instead of the other way around, and Laurent finally falls. Finally makes the choice to love him.

And once he makes that choice, he never backs down.

One final point about Laurent—I think that over years of trauma and abuse, he’s built up this level of disconnect between his mind, his emotions, and his body. I think that’s part of what we see him trying to heal, especially when he is in bed with Damen and in those few openly emotional moments late in KR. In addition, I have always headcanoned him as demiromantic, though I’m not sure to what extent that is something he was born with and to what extent it was born of trauma. Either way, I’m not convinced that Laurent himself realized how strong his feelings were in PG. It’s not until later KR, when Damen starts really pushing him to recognize who he is, that Laurent was able to realize or understand or acknowledge what it was he’d been feeling towards Damen all along.

[tobi-momo]

A Misunderstanding

PAIRING: Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader

GENRE: Angst | Hurt/Comfort | Reverse Comfort

WARNINGS: a lot of crying from both you and kuroo | cursing | mentions of sex | cheating (kind of? youll know when reading) | angst | mentions of drinking/being drunk | nothing is suggestive!! oh ya yall are married btw

WORD COUNT: 3k

A/N: ok ik this is long but this idea came from literally nowhere but i decided to write it thank you @combat-wombatus for helping me you helped put ideas in my brain<333 now i wasnt originally going for a happy ending but im really bad at angst so enjoy the shitty ending :)

“Please, Y/n, you know I didn't mean it,” he pleaded, his large hands desperately grabbing at your form while you push him away, your breaking sobs making his heart shatter. “Please, baby, don’t leave me,” he begs, falling on his knees in front of your trembling body, not being able to tear his eyes off of your heartbroken ones. He needed you to stay. He needed to show you that he isn’t that guy and that he would do anything for you. It was a one time thing. He wasn’t even sober. It wasn’t him. It was the alcohol. He wasn’t thinking straight. Please forgive him, please, please, please.

But you couldn’t. No matter how hard or how much you loved him and wanted to, the pain that ripped at your heart every time you looked at him was too much to bear. So you didn’t. You turn your blurry, glassy eyes away from him as he grabs your hand and forces it into his; your lips quivering and knees shaking. You couldn’t keep the betrayal and agony inside, whining and weeping at him, your knees giving out before your legs slam against the floor, your head near the carpet as you try and keep your affliction at bay.

“Y/n, please,” he whines, tears streaming down his pale cheeks; his admission of his unfaithfulness drained the color from his face. “Please forgive me, I need you, I love you so much.”

“W-” you sniffle, not knowing what to say. You knew you didn’t have to say anything at all, that you didn’t owe him any words, but you just...you just needed to know. “Why,” your voice quivered and cracked, your throat sore, “why did you,” you take a long breath, grabbing your chest to try and stop the heartache, the sudden cramp that formed where it used to be filled with warmth and love, “do this to me? With her?” You look up at him once with wide, searchful eyes as you ponder the reasons and look for the answers in his empty pupils.

“I wasn’t thinking straight, baby, I didn’t know what I was doing, please,” his voice stammers, trying to get you to understand that he really didn’t know what he was doing. “I would never do this to you, I-” “But you did.” Your tone is no longer sad and confused, but angry and fed up. His head backing up quickly, not expecting the response. “You made a promise, Tetsurou, remember?” You glare at him with menacing eyes as you hold up the very finger he kissed and placed the ring on on your wedding day. The beautiful diamond ring that had his initials carved in the interior and little gorgeous jewels that made the walls sparkle once hit with the hot sun was no more; the dark, gloomy piece of rock and metal meaning nothing but lies and mistrust.

“No, Y/n, please. Don’t do this to me,” he adjures guiltily.

“Don’t do this to you?” Your voice laced with deadly venom, standing and backing up, wiping your mouth with your hand in annoyance, placing it on your hip. “You did this to me! You did this to us! You went out! You got drunk! You fucked someone else! And not even a random girl! No! You just had to fuck your ex!” Your voice cracked again before you inhaled sharply and covered up your struggle.

“Y/n, I didn’t know what I was doing!”

“And that’s an excuse?? What, so now you can go fuck whoever you want and say ‘I didn’t know what I was doing!’” you mimic, “so you can get away with it every time?”

He didn’t answer. He looked at the ground, understanding exactly where you came from.

“Hm? Are you gonna answer me, or sit there like a coward?”

He could tell fully well you were just saying this because you were hurt. You didn’t mean any of it. You loved him. No matter what, you will always love him. Trusting him was out of the box for a while, maybe forever. But he can’t lose you. He knew you were soulmates- he knew you were made for each other. There was a reason you guys made it this far and only had big problems now. He needed to find that reason and use it for himself to win you back. He needed you back.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, your dramatic hand gestures coming to a halt at his words, your figure coming to a stand still as you wait for him to finish. “You don't deserve this. You don’t deserve me. Please know that it was a mistake and that I’ll never do it again ever, ever, ever,” he repeats, wanting it to sound as sincere as he means. “Just please give me a chance to make this up to you, please don’t leave me by myself without you,” he sobs out, putting his head in his hands.

You knew you shouldn’t feel bad for him. But god-fucking-dammit are you feeling bad for him. You knew you still loved him, you knew he still loved you- that much was obvious. You couldn’t see him for a while, no. Could you guys work it out? Maybe stitch the wound? Wait until the scar is barely visible anymore? Would that even work?

“Tetsurou,” a single, hot tear dripping down your face as you point to the ground. “I don’t know if I can ever trust you again.”

“I know, I know, just please give me a chance to help fix this!” He cries at your feet, his body bundled in a ball of self hatred and guilt. “I can do it, baby. I can help things go back to normal.”

“I don’t think they ever will be normal again.”

He whines, trying to negotiate with you as much as he can. “Let me fix us. Let me give you my everything again, let me show you that I’m all yours and no one else's, please,” he moans in anticipation for rejection, knowing the chances of you agreeing were next to zero.

The next few hours are silent. Him alone in the bedroom. Crouching on the floor as he ponders your possible answer. You work in the kitchen, making food to satisfy your appetite. He could hear your sniffles from the bedroom and picture you wiping your tears as you carry the pots on the stove. God, he was the biggest piece of shit ever known. What the fuck went through his mind when he was fucking his ex? He only remembers some of it, them waking up in bed together after, only wearing undergarments underneath the sheets and him holding her waist as if she were you. He thought they had ended on good terms, knowing that they were better as friends. He rushed out the door, not being able to stay in the same room without getting sick. He knew what he had to do.

He opens the door to the living room, a slight creak gaining your attention as you stir the sauce in the pan. Your eyes are puffy, your lip still trembling as you try to turn away from him. He only takes about two steps forward before he stops, trying to find the words he wants to say.

“Listen, I know you said you needed time, and I’m not rushing you at all whatsoever. I want to give you all the time in the world to think this over. If you need, I can go to Kou’s house and stay there for a while. He won’t mind. I just want to give you the space you deserve.”

You nod in response, your head still facing away before he whispers an “I love you” before he slips out of the apartment.

~.~.~.~

The next few days were tortue. Not being able to sleep in the same bed he would sleep in with you, not being able to watch the same tv shows, not being able to even be in his presence at least once a day like you used to melted a hole of despair inside you: eating away at your emptiness, taking away the numbness that you so desperately needed right now. The feeling came back- the one that you tried shutting out three hours ago. It crept up at you, flipping your stomach and weighing your lungs down to the floor, your throat sore and dry. Your eyes wet with a blurry wall as your tears build up once again, missing your cheeks as you crouch down looking at the floor, falling on the tile. The droplets containing your anguish splatter on the ground, your raggedy whimpers echoing throughout the vacant apartment, making it all the more obvious he wasn’t there.

Knock knock knock

Was that the door?

Your wide, unbelieving eyes turned to the wooden door frame; the knocks getting louder and faster. You quickly stand up and try to collect yourself, preparing to have a long talk with Tetsurou. You grab the handle, turning it- the door opening with a tiny creak.

Oh.

“Hi! Kuroo left his jacket at the party the other day, is he here?”

Oh, that bitch.

“No. He’s not.” You deadpan, not finding her cheery, happy expression amusing.

“Oh no! Uh, well, here, can you give this back to him for me?”

“Stop smiling at me like you aren’t part of the reason he’s gone.” You snark, glaring at her with sharp eyes as she backs up, confused.

“W-what?”

“You heard me. Don’t act fucking clueless.”

“Excuse me? Who are you to talk to m-”

“Oh, cut the shit,” you roll your eyes, “I know you slept with Tetsurou, you don’t need put on whatever the fuck this is,” you gesture at her.

“What the hell are you talking about? What are you, fucking crazy?” Your eyes narrow in confusion, your disgusted scowl lessening at her words.

“Right. You probably don’t remember because you were blacked out,” you add sarcastically. “He told me what you guys did. Now you know. So, I would love it if you would just leave.”

“What are you- Me and Kuroo didn’t do shit last night. I drank like two beers and was hanging out with another girl the entire time,” she explains, looking offended. Your face loosens into an expression she couldn’t read. “He blacked out early and passed out on the couch while I was busy talking with the other girl.”

“Huh?” You whisper, your disoriented thoughts not aligning to a proper conclusion.

“I didn’t go to bed until like,” she thought back, “I don’t know, three in the morning? There were people passed out on the floor so I decided to take the guest bedroom with her. I was still awake when Kuroo came into the room, I’m guessing because he thought it was yours, based off of how he kept mumbling your name and shit,” she exhales, “he grabbed onto me once he got in and just clung.” You glower at her, huffing. She sees this, sighing before continuing, “Calm down, remember nothing happened. Remember that girl? She ended falling off the bed because I was scooting away from his clingy ass.” You look at her blankly, trying to fit the pieces together. “She ended up leaving the party completely,” she mumbled in embarrassment before you speak up.

“Then why did he tell me you guys had sex?” You mutter quietly, although assuming she heard since her head backed up while she quickly scoffs.

“I swear to God, that man. Listen.” You look up into her eyes- her genuine eyes. “Me and Kuroo didn’t do a single thing. I didn’t do anything to him and he didn’t do anything to me. I’ll have a conversation with him later because he is an absolute dumbass,” she breathed.

What the fuck?? You were just supposed to believe her?

“How am I supposed to believe that?”

“Me and him ended a long time ago. I don’t like him like that and I haven’t for a while. And seeing he was bragging about you the entire time at the party, he’s over me, too. Besides, I’m not even into guys that much anymore anyways,” she grinned and winked at you. The shock and realization hit you like a truck. She wasn’t even- oh my God. She chuckled at your expression; you ran away from her to the counter to get your phone, quickly unlocking it and tapping on Tetsurou’s contact.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mumble over and over. To tap the call button, listening to it ring as you bring your phone up to your ear, hearing him pick up the phone almost immediately after.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” He sounded worried. It’s only been about a week, he had hoped that you weren’t going to leave him.

“Get over here, right now, Tetsurou.” Your voice made it seem like it was urgent, so he quickly picked up his jacket from the couch, and you could hear the jingling of his keys as he grabbed them and opened the door, almost slamming it shut once he left.

~.~.~.~

“Y/n?” He asked at the open front door, wondering why it wasn’t closed. “Y/n, you have to be careful and close the door, we have them for a reason, you know,” he said as he walked in. Even after being at the line of a break-up, he still cares for your well-being. He didn’t even do anything wrong and he was still caring for you as a loved one should. He always did everything to make you feel comfortable and safe, so once he knew that he had slept with his ex he was completely devastated to his core. He didn’t want to do this to you, but you had the right to know.

“Tetsu.” You called. Already back to nicknames? This is good, right?

“Yes? Y/n?” He was scared, to say the least, feeling awkward and not knowing what to do. He walked scarcely towards your figure sitting on the couch, not caring to drop his keys and jacket on the counter. He had a feeling this might go wrong.

“We need to talk.” Shit. This is exactly what he didn’t want to hear. Hearing those words he couldn’t help but think that you were going to make him pack his stuff and go. “So, I talked with your ex.” You speak slowly, not wanting your words to come out wrong. You don’t want him to take any of this in a bad way at all. Yet his eyes widen drastically, his heartbeat racing and his nerves pricking him. “You are just one big dummy, aren’t you?”

What? What are you talking about?

“What?”

“You didn’t sleep with her. She told me everything that happened that night. She’s not even into guys anymore. Tetsu-”

This couldn’t be happening. Not only did he accuse himself of cheating, he accused himself of cheating with his ex, and that he cheated with his ex at a party, while you two are married. And then it turns out it wasn’t true? What the hell was wrong with him? He jeopardized your entire relationship because he was too drunk to know what was going on.

“Wait, what?” He yells, angrily sitting down on the couch, “so you’re telling me-” you nodded and hummed an ‘mhm’ in response. His hands find their way to his hair, pulling at the roots and scratching his scalp, his low grunts of pain and fury seeping out of his throat as he frustratingly comprehends what he just did.

You rush over to him, grabbing his wrists and pushing them down to his lap as fast as you can, making his eyes find their way to your blown out pupils. You can see the hot tears prickle down his cheek as he frowns at you, completely and utterly defeated.

“Tetsu, I don’t want you to hurt yourself, it’s okay,” you reassure, giving him a happy smile. He wanted to smile back, but he couldn’t control the broken sob that escaped him. “Hey, hey,” you try to grab his attention as he pulls his head down, crying. “It’s okay, baby, it’ll be okay.” You wrap your arms around his head, protecting him as you softly coo and ‘shh’ him quietly in his ear. ‘I’m sorry’ kept coming out of his mouth as he clinged to you, not being able to help his want to be closer to you. The realization that he just almost broke your heart completely and he had worried about divorce for this shit made him want to just rip his scalp out. He was so stupid. So, so so, stupid. “Tetsu, look at me, please. Look at me,” you whisper, bringing your hand to his chin, dragging it up so you could catch sight of his hazel irises. His eyes red and puffy, his cheeks wet and his eyes droopy, you couldn’t do anything but frown at the sight. He hated himself right now, not wanting to face the embarrassment and the humiliation of the situation.

“You don’t deserve me, I’m so sorry,” he whimpered in your arms, gripping them tighter and tighter for comfort- you knowing that he needed it right now. You had already pulled him into your chest, feeling his wet tears soak your shirt, your hands rubbing his back and your fingers gently grazing his throbbing scalp.

“It’s okay, I forgive you, Tetsu, you did the right thing by telling me you did it instead of hiding it from me, and then it turns out you didn’t do it at all.” Your cheeks start to feel hot, and you don’t even realize your sniffles until you could feel a dam break at your water line. You couldn’t stop them, the tears of relief. You didn’t want to stop them. You were glad that they were her, glad that they were for him, glad they were because you knew the truth, glad because you knew you two would be okay.

You looked back at your ring, watching it bloom like a flower in the spring, the meaning coming back to your marriage. It wasn’t just metal and rock anymore, it was a gorgeous promise.

“I love you, Tetsurou. Don’t forget that. You’re staying with me, alright?” you whisper into his hairline.

“Thank you,” he cries.

taglist: @solar3lunar @flattykawadoorusmilkbread @toosharkinternet @hitosushi @alpha3113 @awmahleebkg

haikyuu taglist: @pies-writes-and-more @luvrboykento

REQUESTS: OPEN

reblogs are appreciated :))

[uwuwriting]

Tamaki, Todoroki and Shinsou  in a secret relationship....and how they got caught.

Request: Hello I love your blog and since your requests are open I would like to request Tamaki Todoroki and Shinsou being in a secret relationship for a long time and how they got outed. If you could write something similar for Semi, Akaashi, Kenma and Sakusa from Haikyuu you would be a blessing. I love you!!!! - anonymous

Awww of course I’ll write for the Haikyuu boys as well. I’ll write later this week or the next and since its almost midnight here HAPPY BIRTHDAY SHINSOU!!!! I have a special soulmate au as I usually do for my husband!!!! I’m sorry I’m not getting to those soulmate aus quicker 😣😣😣😣. Love yaa.💖💖💖💖

rules 

warnings: fluff

Amajiki Tamaki 

-He’s so shy omggg.

-How did you manage to get him into a relationship???

-He loves you to the moon and back. 

-Would do anything for you. 

-You two were in the same class all through out high school and during your second year he asked you out. 

-Okay not exactly. 

-You were studying in the library together during a really bad storm when the lights went out. 

-Loud lightning followed and you jumped out of your skin. 

-You were terrified of lightning and being paired with complete darkness you were petrified. 

-Now Tamaki had had a crush on you since early last year and seeing you so terrified and vulnerable he pushed through his anxiety for a split moment and wrapped you in a hug, stroking your hair soothingly as he tried to calm you down. 

- “I-I’ll p-protect you. I-I w-won’t let a-anything h-hurt you..... ever.”

-That’s how your relationship began basically. 

-He comforted you and kept you safe, shielding you from your fears. 

-Everything else is history. 

-Now you are both third years in your respective hero studies with a bright future in front of you. 

-Your relationship has been kept a secret mainly because both of you don’t like making your private lives public. 

-Only Nejire and Mirio know. 

-Surprisingly they have kept it a secret. 

-Fatgum has a suspicion that Tamaki has someone in his life, someone really important. 

-So important he had called in one time claiming that he had an emergency and wouldn’t make it to the agency. 

-When Fatgum asked, Tamaki began stuttering and mumbling about someone really close to him being sick and needing help. 

-In reality you were on your period and had awful cramps.

-You were feeling like death, curled up in a ball on Tamaki’s bed and refusing to move. 

-You had begged him to go to his hero study but he claimed that you were more important, not going to the agency for an evening wouldn’t mark the end of the world. 

-Then Chisaki happened and Tamaki was badly injured. 

-Your agency was stationed outside so you couldn’t help him or know what had happened. 

-You had a broken arm after the fight and was being escorted to the ambulances when you saw Tamaki being carried on a stretcher blood running down his cheek as his arms and whole body was covered in bruises, cuts and so much blood. 

-Your feet moved on their own accord, sprinted through the crowd ignoring the calls of the medic until you reached your boyfriend. 

- “Tama? T-Tamaki baby wake up.”

-Fatgum saw you touch Tamaki’s cheek with your good hand and how, when the boy weakly opened his eyes, he placed his own hand over yours. 

-Tears were running down your cheeks as you looked at him, following the medics as they placed the stretcher in the ambulance. 

-They told you that he would be fine and that you should find another medical team that could take care of your arm. 

-Everything fell apart though when you saw Mirio and Sir Nighteye. 

-Everything was a mess but Fatgum noticed how you would always look back to Tamaki’s ambulance as it drove off. 

-In the hospital you didn’t leave Tamaki’s room, insisting on getting your bandages changed in his room refusing to get your own and leave his side. 

-Fatgum was happy for him. 

-Especially when he went to visit and found Tamaki holding you close to him. 

-Your head was over his heart as he gently massaged your back, tears falling down your cheeks once again. 

-Then he kissed your forehead and Fatgum knew that this wasn’t a moment he wanted to interrupt. 

-When he did visit along side Kirishima he didn’t lose a bit before he asked about you. 

-You were surprisingly not beside him deciding to visit Mirio again to see how he was coping. 

- “So... what’s her name hm?”

- “W-Who?”

- “Your girlfriend!!”

-Tamaki burst into a deep blush as he tried hiding his face in his hands. 

- “Come one I’ve seen how she looks at you and how you kissed her OH so lovingly on the forehead the other day was the cut-”

- “Y/N! H-her n-name is Y-Y/N.”

-Kirishima is standing there, jaw almost touching the floor when you open the door and peek inside. 

- “Oh! I’m sorry.... I-I’ll come back later....”

-Okay now Kirishima is already kind losing it because he didn’t expect his shy senpai to have a girlfriend. 

-So when Tamaki lets out a very low, slightly above a whisper, “But bunny....” he freaking snaps. 

- “WHAT!!!!”

- “Kirishima we’re in a hospital!”

-Get ready to be bombarded with questions....poor you.

-At least you get to sit next to Tamaki while you are being interrogated. 

-They insisted on that saying that they wouldn’t keep Tamaki away from his girl...Tamaki is burying his face in your hair....shy baby.

Todoroki Shouto

-Okay so your relationship is a secret because of his dad. 

-He wanted to shield you from his toxicity. 

-Plus Shouto knew that his dad would force you two apart and he couldn’t let that happen. 

-So you are his little secret. 

-Only his mom knows about you.

-Shouto took you to meet her after your one year anniversary.

-He loves you so damn much he could die. 

-So seeing the two most important women in his life interact and get along he melts. 

-As you say your goodbye to Rei she hugs you, thanking you for taking care of her baby and that your secret will be safe with her. 

-Then she moves on to Shouto as you wait in the hallway. 

- “I like her Shouto. She really loves you. Please take good care of her.”

-Boy falls in love with you all over again I swear to god. 

-Now you spend a lot of time in his dorm. 

-When I say a lot I mean it. 

-You remember how Shouto managed to remodel his room in an afternoon during their first day in the dorms. 

-Yeah that’s what he does for your dates. 

-Since you can’t risk going to outdoor dates very often since it’s very easy for a paparazzi to spot the son of Endeavor.

-Especially if he is holding hands with someone else. 

-Natsuo actually warned you about that and he was the one to suggest dorm dates. 

-He had taken his girlfriend out on a diner date and the next day they were all over multiple tabloids accompanied by multiple calls from Endeavor. 

-All Todoroki children hide their s/o’s......even Fuyumi. 

-Anyways back to Shouto. 

-You spend so much time in his room that you tend to leave some of your clothes there. 

-You change into his hoodies in his room so forgetting your shirt there is a usual phenomenon.

-Plus you do the dirty so.... scattered clothes.

-Now Todoroki is friends with Momo.

-And Momo is friends with you. 

-And she has seen your closet on multiple occasions. 

-She knows your clothes.....you see where I’m going with this?

-Todoroki was struggling with some chemistry problems and you were out doing your hero studies. 

-You had apologized to him multiple times and had suggested Momo as the perfect tutor. 

-That’s why Momo is now alone in his room as he is making tea in the kitchen, looking at what seems to be like one of your favorite sweaters. 

-You had gotten it during Christmas and wouldn’t take it off for a week straight. 

-You had basically brainwashed them by how often you wear it. 

-Why was it in Todoroki’s room though?

- “Todoroki-kun why do you have L/N-san’s sweater?”

-He froze.

-You had stayed the night last Monday and you had been wearing that sweater. 

-He remembers it vividly since he was the one who took it off.....along with your bra.......that he threw somewhere in the room.....AND MOMO COULD FIND AT ANY MOMENT.

-Momo was starting to get worried because well....he had been standing at the same spot for a solid minute staring at absolutely nothing. 

-Standing up she went to shake his shoulder when her eyes caught a bright red fabric peeking out from under the desk.

-Brushing past him she crouched down and grabbed the fabric revealing the red bra. 

-Todoroki snapped out of his shock state the moment Momo reached for the bra strap. 

-He couldn’t stop her though....

- “T-Todoroki-kun.....” 

-And as if things couldn’t get any worse, his phone started to ring as your photo appeared on the screen your name replaced by a heart surrounded ‘babygirl’.

-Todoroki groaned at well everything. 

-Momo was blushing like crazy STILL holding your bra. 

-You two had a lot of things to explain. 

Shinsou Hitoshi

-I’ve said this before. 

-You never meant your relationship to be a secret. 

-At least not in the beginning. 

-You two just never acted like a couple and people assumed that you were just good friends.

-Then you heard Aizawa scaring a boy who had made Mina cry so.........dating his special trainee while you were one of his FEMALE students?

-Nope.

-A secret it is.

-Aizawa is a protective dad and you can’t change my mind. 

-You have a collection of hoodies you have ‘borrowed’ that you wear only inside your or his dorm. 

-And while you sleep. 

-Falling asleep surrounded by his scent is heaven. 

-Aizawa has caught you twice wearing his hoodies.

-Once when Shinsou got turned into a baby and once when you went to get water and he scared you shitless. 

-Aizawa knows about yalls relationship. 

-You can run but you cannot hide child. 

-Anyways. 

-You had a box full of Polaroids from your dates. 

-He knew how happy you were when you two took photos that’s why he bought you a Polaroid. 

-Now you can print your photos and decorate your room. 

-Shinsou is an insomniac.

-We’ve been knew. 

-So on the rare days when he feels kinda sleepy but he misses you so badly he can’t really fall asleep he’ll sneak in your dorm and have an impromptu sleepover. 

-You don’t complain of course. 

-You love to snuggle up to him.

-Also this boy loves wrapping you up in his arms.

-Snuggles snuggles snuggles. 

-Irrelevant information: he has you saved on his phone as kitten and your contact photo is you hanging upside down from the ceiling wrapped up in his capture tool. 

-He had tried teaching you to use it and you somehow managed to climb on the bookcase trying to remake that scene from Tarzan but the cloth got caught on the ceiling fan resulting in this hilarious photo. 

-Back to your sleepover.

-He falls asleep like in the blink of an eye.

-Your sleep that night is the best both of you have had in a fat while. 

-Plus the fact that its the weekend lets you enjoy each others warmth for as long as you like. 

-YES YOU SLEPT IN!!!!

-Being friends with Mina and Kaminari is a ride. 

-Sero and Bakubro and maybe Kiri in some occasions are damage control but they get tired and let you take care of the children. 

-You had promised to go out shopping that morning, a plan you totally forgot when Shinsou tapped your window last night. 

-Giving Mina a spare key to your room was the worst decision you could have made considering you were in a secret relationship. 

-When you didn’t show up on time the two idiots waited for an hour before they made their way to your room.

-Using the spare key she pushed the door open letting out a long “Y/N-CHAAAAN!!!” which scared the soul out of your bodies. 

-You let out a startled scream that woke Hitoshi up who without missing a bit pulled you under him shielding you from whatever made you scream. 

-It was purely on instinct to save and protect you hfqpirhfhsod so cute!!!!

-Mina was left staring at the scene in front of her while Kaminari was calling Sero begging him to come to your room. 

-I don’t know how they didn’t attract dadzawa.

-You would get your ass whooped. 

-Shopping was long forgotten as the whole Bakusquad came one by one in your room waiting for the tea to be spilled. 

-Mina and Sero were angry since they have tried time and time again to hook you up with multiple of their friends, Bakugou didn’t care but he approved, Kaminari and Kirishima were threatening Shisnou if he ever were to break your heart. 

- “I love her you dumbasses I’m not going to hurt her!!!”

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