#summertime series

[childofsardior]

[dalamjisung]

the escape plan ❋ hwang hyunjin

word count: 3528

genre: fluff

pairing: reader x hwang hyunjin

description: you love working as a barista just because you love people watching. in this case, you end up watching hyunjin and his failed date. this is the one where you and hyunjin learn that the escape plan should've been plan A to begin with.

part of Summertime’s Special Collab with @catiuskaa | series masterlist here

It’s the way he smiles that makes chuckle from behind the counter. 

The bar is full today, but then again, it’s full most nights. During the week, you mostly see older couples, and it fills your heart with warmth to imagine a life in which you get to grow old with someone next to you. But then you mind the bar and the older creeps flock in and, suddenly, celibacy is looking pretty good. The weekend is when the youngsters, like you, flock in. 

Seeing people your age on dates is quite funny. It reminds you of why you used to like dates so much and, at the same time, hate them so much. You kind of miss it, the whole excitement of having a crush and getting ready for a date. It’s the silly dances and the makeup process and the singing with a hairbrush that makes you softer for those moments past. But you just don’t have time for that anymore, not with work getting busier by the second. For a minute, you wonder if tourist season came a couple of weeks early, judging by the new faces you see coming around… his included. 

To be fair, you think every single bartender in that place stopped what they were doing to watch him walk in. He is definitely someone you will all gossip about in the back room, and from how your co-worker keeps elbowing you every time he moves, you know she’s going to be your main source of entertainment during closing time. “Oh my god, Y/N, just look at him,” She groans, putting the cup she’s washing down in favour of leaning forward over the counter, as if she can just touch him like that. “He’s so handsome… why can’t it be me on that date?”

“Oh, I don’t think you want to be on that date,” You laugh, raising your brows while getting their drinks ready. He looks soft, gentle; kind enough to sit through what is visibly one of the worst dates you’ve seen during your shifts so far. “That smile is so fake I’m afraid it might get stuck.” 

“How do you know? It might be the best! With a guy like him, I’m sure it will be the best…”

“For her, sure,” Putting the drinks on a tray and getting out from behind the counter, you get ready to go deliver them. Their table is in your section, and if you’re honest, a little snooping never hurt anyone. “But him? Girl, he’s leaning away from her! He’s basically wincing! Don’t be so superficial– just cause he’s pretty doesn’t mean that’s all he cares about!” 

“Go find me some gossip!” She whispers with a wink and basically pushes you off. 

Being a bartender isn’t what you want to do for the rest of your life. The thought of figuring the rest of your life out, though, makes you shiver in horror. You don’t really see a point in planning the future if that means you can’t really live in the present, and so for now, for this moment, this you, this time, you love your job. You love interacting with people, you love listening to stories through the counter, you love when people ask you to make a drink you think they’ll like. Deep down, you know you won’t stay there forever, but that’s just not something you’re ready to face yet. 

“Excuse me,” You announce yourself quietly, approaching from the side so you don’t accidentally spill anything on them. 

There is an order to serving tables– first the napkins, then the cups, then a gentle smile and a small bow before walking away. Despite your words, the goal is to be a ghost, almost like the cups appeared there without a presence looming over the guests. But you move slowly, you’re gracious, polite, and definitely curious. 

“…and then like, they fired me!” Her voice is almost squeaky.“Because I told them I wouldn’t take a meeting from the hairdresser!” 

“But… it was during your work hours…” 

This is the first time you hear his voice and it shocks you. It’s lower than you expected and oh so quiet, like he regrets saying the words even before he says them. You cough a little, hiding the laughter bubbling in the back of your throat. And he must have heard you because he immediately glances up, eyes meeting yours and it’s almost like, when he notices your pursed lips, it unlocks something in him that makes his lips purse too. The speed in which you both look away is comical, but now you know he knows. The bridge between you two has been shattered and now, it’s like you can’t keep crossing. 

“Yeah, but they still should respect my personal boundaries, you know?” This is the moment she looks up at you, eyes lingering a little too long as if she’s questioning why you’re still there. “Anyways, should we get some food? Could you bring us the menu?” 

“Of course, I’ll be right back.” It takes you a minute to grab the menu and return. “Here you go, ma’am, what can I get for you?” 

She rattles off some random items and you make sure to memorise them before turning to him. “And you, sir? What can I get you?” 

“Oh don’t bother, he’ll be sharing what I’ve ordered.”

When she says this, you’re still turned to him and he’s looking right at you, and both your eyes go wide. “Could you please show me where the bathroom is?” He asks instead, and you nod while he gets up and tells his date “I’ll be right back.”

The restrooms are on the upper section of the bar, and you take him upstairs with a stupid smile on your face. He looks like he’s around your age and the long, tired sigh you hear coming from behind you is the last draw– you start laughing out loud, only looking back at him when you get to the top of the stairs. He looks like he’s amused at your reaction yet tortured because of his reality. 

“You’re laughing because it’s not you sitting across from her!” He gasps, head falling in his hands dramatically. “I don’t even need the bathroom, I just need to get out of there!”

Giggling, you nod. “It does seem like it’s not going well.”

“Oh god, even you guys noticed?!”

“To be fair to you, we see dates going all kinds of ways here, so it’s a part of the job.”

For a second, he falls silent, eyes stuck on yours like he’s trying to speak directly into your soul. “I need an escape plan,” He mumbled, head cocking to the side. “And you might just be it.”

“Sorry?” Your eyes go wide at his suggestion. “I can’t– I mean, you can just tell her, no? Just–“

“Oh come on, you’ve seen dates going all kinds of ways and you think I can just tell her?! Are you crazy?! I’ll be lucky if she doesn’t throw a drink on my face!”

“Why did you even ask her on a date? Poor girl thinks she has a really handsome guy into her and you’re planning an escape,” You asked, looking around to make sure no one is listening to your conversation. The last thing you need is a snoopy client deciding to interfere and tell the girl themselves. You’ve seen it happen and you were the one having to separate the fight. 

“I didn’t!” Whining, he stomps her foot on the ground like a child and your brows shoot up in curiosity. “My friend set me up because I haven’t really been going out lately, and it’s not like I was desperate, you know? I was just… busy! But he set me up regardless and he said he met her at a party because she’s his friend’s cousin’s best friend or something like that and I thought ‘how bad can this be?’ but as it turns out it can be really, really bad and I just want to go home and watch some TV with my dog!”

The way he is panting by the end of his rant has your heart squeezing out in sympathy for him. You’ve had had your fair share of bad dates, and it always feels more urgent than they actually are, but in the moment, while you pretend to be someone you’re not and smile at things you normally wouldn’t, all to appease someone you have no intention to see again, it’s a terrible sensation. Feels like getting lost, like you push yourself so far away that you worry if you’ll ever find your way back. And it made you feel guilty, knowing you were purposefully lying to someone who seemed to be having a good time, although by themselves. 

It’s not like you, to interfere and meddle, but he looks so upset with those plump, pouty lips that even you can’t resist it. “Fine,” You mumbled, straightening your back abruptly. “But you’re paying for her! Don’t be a dick! Just… Just follow my lead.”

“You are my saviour!” He cheered. “I’m Hyunjin, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Hyunjin,” You smile, offering him a hand to shake. “I’m Y/N. Also known as your escape plan.” 

What follows next is a really intricate plan. He will go back. He will smile. He will listen to her and give her the attention he craves because as much as he seems to be hating this date, she isn’t and you are not to make her night the worst night of her life. While he does all that, you will grab the food she ordered and you will bring it to her. In your tray, a mysterious drink will sit dangerously by the edge and as you put the food down, the weight shift will destabilise your hand and suddenly Hyunjin will be covered in liquid. He will then be very upset about it, and order the bill, which he will pay in full. Then, he gets to go home should your plan work. 

“You’re a genius,” Hyunjin whispers before returning to his table, and you can’t help but laugh at him. 

All in all, you understand why the girl looks at him like how she does, you’re pretty sure anyone around him is looking at him like that– impressed and slightly intimidated. Hyunjin is a beautiful man– he is way past handsome, at this point, and you would describe him as beautiful. His lips are full and his eyes are sharp, and his laughter, even in misery, sounds like fine tuned music. For a second, you let yourself imagine what it would be like to be the one sitting in front of him. He seems charming enough, from your brief interaction; would you have fun? Would he want to escape you, too, or would he stay? Shaking your head, you go back to the counter.

“Did I see you go upstairs with Mister Handsome or do my eyes deceive me?” Of course she was watching you. 

“Your eyes are right, but your mind deceives you,” Rolling your eyes, you can’t quite hide the slight blush tainting your cheeks at her insinuation. 

“You cannot seriously tell me you don’t think he’s cute,” She squinted, stepping closer to you with a teasing smile you ignore, you still have to load the tray and make a random drink. 

“I never said that,” You whisper, trying to keep the conversation private even though you two are in a very open space. “But I don’t know the guy. All I know is that he asked me to get him out of that date so… here I go.” 

Everything goes according to plan. Hyunjin is acting like a gentleman by the time you make it to his table, and the cup of the mysterious, too colourful concoction falls perfectly in his lap. You act the part, too, apologising repeatedly for the accident while pulling out tissues from thin air to try and help him dry off. “Sir, I am so, so sorry!” Maybe you are verging on overacting, but what do you know about that? You’re a bartender, not a Hollywood star. 

The fatal mistake, though, is when your eyes meet again. This time, you can’t help yourself and you snort, so loudly and unload like that it catches everyone by surprise. The tables around are either laughing or gasping and you can’t help the way your entire face goes red, actually embarrassed about this stupid, stupid plan. What were you even thinking when you agreed to this? “I–“ Even your hands shake, the nervousness of your sudden self-awareness getting the best of you with all those eyes burning your back. 

“It’s okay.” 

Somehow you hear him above the screeching screams of the poor girl sitting in front of him. “Y/N, it’s okay,” Hyunjin whispers, shaking his head with a hint of a smile that is not mocking nor cocky. His smile, all pretty and cute, is just as comforting as the little nod he sends your way, reaching towards the floor to pick up the tray with one hand and help you up with the other. It’s steady and large, his hands, and you can’t help but freeze a little when he touches your elbow, pushing you upwards with a smile. “There you go. Thank you, I’ll come to the counter to pay in a second.” 

That is not part of the plan, but you just nod, scurrying away as fast as you possibly can.

This feels weird. You’re not shy. Never have been, actually, which is what makes you so happy working with people; you crave the social interaction, love the conversations, smile at the compliments. It fuels you, knowing that, at some level, you’re making someone happy, even if just for a second when they get their food or their drink. It makes you feel happier, too. Well, usually it makes you feel happier too, but, now, there is nothing you want more than to disappear. “Y/N! Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?” 

“Can you mind the bar for a few minutes?” You mumble, already making your way to the back door. “I just need a second.” 

The back room is every barista’s safe place. It’s where everyone goes when things are getting a bit too much and they need a second. Right now, you really need a second. You need to ground yourself again, remember that the present is good enough and there is no need to project the future, especially not a crazy fantastical version of it. Sitting down on a chair, you let your head fall in your hands, eyes closed as you just enjoy the quietude of it all. It’s easy, creating a whole scenario in your head, when a guy like Hyunjin is being so kind and gentle and funny. And it’s easy to forget the consequences, too, even if you can’t stop laughing at it. 

It’s the cringeness of it all that gets to you, the way you replay that scenario in your head again and again and you shiver and shudder at the memory of you trying to clean the purposeful mess you made while everyone around stared at you. Chuckling, you shake your head. “Y/N, you are a very silly person,” You mumble to yourself, getting up with a final deep breath. Your co-worker pops her head in the room before you can even take a step towards the door. 

“Hey, your table paid and left. You can come out now, the cute guy wasn’t angry.”

Somehow, that doesn’t make you feel any better to know he just… up and left. But you nod regardless, smiling weakly at her. “Thanks,” You mumble and then it’s right back to work. 

The rest of the night is uneventful. Boring, almost, and you can’t help but feel uncomfortable. Like you had just done something you were going to regret, like… like you had just been used as a means to an end. “I got it,” You grab the keys before your colleague can. “Go home. You did great tonight, I’ll close up.” 

At this point, you just feel like being alone. What started as a good day has quickly gone off the rails, and you don’t particularly regret anything, but you need some time to process everything that happened in the past few hours. And that’s okay– all you need is time, nothing else, nothing less.

Ironically, it seems like time is all you don’t have. 

“Y/N.”

You almost trip on your foot, mountain of cups in your arms about to go down had it not been for his reflexes, hands catching you at the very last minute. “Jesus Christ! Hyunjin! What are you doing here?!” It’s like he has some kind of weird power over you, face immediately on fire at the feel of his hands on your arms. 

“I came to thank you!” His hands go up in defence and you laugh. “You disappeared after the whole escape plan and I couldn’t thank you properly!”

“So you thought that sneaking in at almost three in the morning when I’m alone in an empty bar was the best way to thank me?” You whisper, eyes wide like a kid who’s afraid to get in trouble. You can’t stop the incredulous smile playing on your lips, though, and you snort a laughter out. “I just met you and this is kind of creepy…”

This time around, he’s the one that looks startled. “I’m not creepy!” He is so dramatic with his gasp and his hand over his heart. “I came here to say thank you and–“ Hyunjin pauses, face a bit blushed. “And you know, I owe you one. You were so nice to help out and you embarrassed yourself–“

“I wouldn’t say I embarrassed myself–“ You cut off quickly, face falling on your hands in a clear contradiction to your words.

“Y/N, don’t kid yourself, that was embarrassing,” Hyunjin snorted. The tension, the one that floated in the air for the first seconds of this interaction and the one on your shoulders whenever you thought about the burning sensation of people staring at you, is gone, and left behind is just this– the giggling, the stepping around each other, the getting to know more. You like this… and it feels too natural for something that looks so misplaced. This kind of interaction, this kind of back and forth, the joking and the banter– this is what makes a good first date, in your opinion. 

But this can’t be a date… right?

Y/N, stop daydreaming, you think to yourself. 

“But it was hilarious. And it was a favour,” He continues, finally taking one, then two steps towards you. “And I want to repay you.”

“You don’t have to–“

“I really want to,” He says, wincing a little at how desperate he sounds. “Okay, I see how I’m coming off as creepy. But! In my defence! I don’t know your number and I don’t know your schedule!”

You just raise your brows at him. 

“At this point there is no escaping my fate,” Hyunjin chuckles, but before he can say or do anything else, he looks at the counter. There are some cups, pens, and notepads you still have to put away. “May I?”

You just nod, eyeing him curiously. “What are you doing?” 

“This,” Hyunjin says, ripping a piece of paper he scribbled on and giving it to you. “Is my number. Text me tomorrow? I really want to pay you back…” 

“And how will you pay me back? Unfortunately, I don’t think there will be an opportunity for you to trip and spill a drink over me any time soon.”

“I mean, come out to get a drink with me and I’m sure I can arrange that.” 

You stutter, eyes wide when he just shrugs. “W-What?”

“Or a coffee!” He quickly says, nodding excitedly. “Anything. Dinner, lunch, coffee, drinks– whatever sounds less creepy right now, cause I’m really nervous I’m coming across like a stalker and I don’t want to scare you off or–“

“Or I might be the one needing an escape plan?” You joke, grabbing your phone from your pocket and typing in the number he has just given you. 

With quick fingers, you quickly send him a message: hey :) drinks sound good.

Hyunjin frowns at the buzzing coming from his phone at such an early hour. But the smile on his face when he reads your text is just breath-taking, and yes, maybe you’re being superficial, or maybe you’re not, but the way your heart picks up a little is not superficial at all.

“Drinks it is,” Hyunjin nods, trying to hide a smile. “I know just the place.”

“I swear to god if you say here I will–“

“Great service, great food– it makes sense!”

“Go home you creep.”

There is a pause before he turns around to leave. You can hear the smile in his voice when he calls your name. “And Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s a date.”

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

Wohooooo Hyunjin's is out >.< I'm loving writing for this series!!! as always, make sure to go to @catiuskaa profile to go check out her incredible pieces for this series and her general masterlist!

[cordiallyfuturedwight]

random bangtan gifs (1/??)

kim taehyung | photoshoot | dispatch | insp. @sugajimin 🤍

[timmurleyart]

My root beer partner in crime. 🤎🍺

[superblysubpar]

📻 “It’s your summertime magic, make me feel this way. Got me boo’d up. Girl, oh, you’re my world - baby girl my whole world. You feel like summertime, you took this heart of mine.”

Hawkins, Indiana: 80 degrees and sunny all summer long - perfect for falling in love. With a newly renovated downtown, there’s plenty of opportunities for stolen kisses, loud arguments over miscommunication, and grossly public displays of affection.

You’ll be able to visit Holland’s - the new record store and coffee shop where Robin can tell you why your taste in music is a bit pedestrian but she’ll make you a mean latte while she does. I hear when the sun goes down, her drink making skills get even better.

If you’re looking for something a bit more active, Hawkins now has it’s very own roller rink. There’s this grumpy employee, Eddie, but he’s all bark with no bite - you’ll have fun…for awhile.

And then of course, no hot day is complete without a Summer blockbuster! Steve will make sure the PacMan machine doesn’t eat your coins and your cherry slurpee never reaches lower than halfway down the cup, and on Wednesdays, you can watch him interact with all of the kids for free movies in the park - try not to melt like the popsicles he’s handing out.

*Set during the same summer. While you’re the reader in all of them, these are three separate stories. All will contain smut and therefore 18+ get out of here minors!

Strawberry Lipstick State Of Mind

robin buckley x fem!bi! reader | hidden relationship | the vibes

Love The Way You Look At Me

eddie munson x fem!reader | grumpy x sunshine | the vibes

If You're Wondering If I Want You To, I Want You To

steve harrington x fem!reader | best friends to lovers | the vibes

the key things to note about the stories - the warnings

the soundtrack of summer

the full playlists for each story can be found on their individual masterlists

the vibes

[columboscreens]

[verbabablase]

summertime sadness… summer parrot grian 😞😞😞‼️

[bestest-dead-best-friend-bracket]

New Bracket Announcement!

This one is kind of huge compared to what I usually do, and it’s probably going to be a bit before there’s another one this big.

As such, I’ve divided it into four Blocks, which will each run separately before the winners of each block participate in the semifinals.

The theme this time is

Ambiguously Dead Friends

Since there are so many this time, the lineup will be below the cut, but I encourage you to see if anyone you know is there! Please reblog to spread the news and to remind yourself to come vote!

Round One of Block A starts this Monday.

Dead Best Friend Bracket

Block A

KK (Ghostwire Tokyo) vs Alma Karma (D.Gray Man)

Makise Kurisu (Steins;Gate) vs Kokonose Haruka (Kagerou Project)

Kofune Ushio (Summertime Rendering) vs Yami Yugi (Yu-Gi-Oh!)

Bruno Bucciarati (JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure: Golden Wind) vs Iris Sagan (AI: The Somnium Files)

Marnie (When Marnie was There) vs Cassim (Magi)

The Snatcher (A Hat in Time) vs Professor Turo (Pokémon: Violet)

Asriel Dreemurr (Undertale) vs Sakurane Shoka (NEO: The World Ends with You)

Hayakawa Aki (Chainsaw Man) vs Fubuki Atsuya (Inazuma Eleven: Blizzard)

Block B

Audric (Dragalia Lost) vs Komikado Harumichi (Ohayou, Ibarahime)

Mondo Owada (Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc) vs Brook (One Piece)

Kite (Hunter x Hunter) vs Yukine (Noragami)

Naruse Kakeru (Orange) vs Polterpup (Luigi’s Mansion)

Alear (Fire Emblem: Engage) vs Lief (Bug Fables)

Hoshino Ruby (Oshi no Ko) vs Lyman Banner (Yu-Gi-Oh! GX)

Shizu (That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime) vs Zera (Fairy Tail)

Acht (Splatoon 3) vs Honma Meiko (Anohana)

Block C

Gugu (To Your Eternity) vs Falin Touden (Dungeon Meshi)

Mia Fey (Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney) vs Natsuki Subaru (Re: Zero)

Tikal (Sonic Adventure) vs Hinazuki Kayo (Boku Dake ga Inai Machi)

Mari (OMORI) vs Sunny (Pokémon)

Sabito (Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba) vs Indou Hikaru (The Summer Hikaru Died)

Excellen Browning (Super Robot Wars) vs Dimple (Mob Psycho 100)

Daruk (The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild) vs Maria (Silent Hill 2)

Claire Foley (Professor Layton and the Unwound Future) vs Ethan Winters (Resident Evil)

Block D

Lemiel Silvamillion Clover (Black Clover) vs Hanako-kun (Toilet-bound Hanako-kun)

Pandoria (Xenoblade Chronicles 2) vs Brown (Rule of Rose)

Queen Sectonia (Kirby: Triple Deluxe) vs Joe Tazuna (Your Turn to Die)

Reginald Kastle (Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal) vs Missile (Ghost Trick)

Shuu (Inazuma Eleven: GO) vs Yokomizo (Bungo Stray Dogs)

Sothis (Fire Emblem: Three Houses) vs Vanilla (World’s End Club)

Shirakumo Oboro (My Hero Academia) vs Auron (Final Fantasy X)

Dhurke Sahdmadhi (Ace Attorney: Spirit of Justice) vs Sayori (Doki Doki Literature Club)

[yz]

Rua do Duque, Lisbon. July 2024.

Shot with Fujifilm X-T50 and XF 23mm f/2.0 lens.

[childofsardior]

🌅 End of Vacantion...🍹

Everything ends eventually... especially holydays! The Royal Koopa Family comes back home after their staying at Isle Delfino, and my Summertime Series meets its end...

↓↓↓ See below for detailed shots!! ↓↓↓

Clean Version, no speech bubbles

NOTE: All characters' designs for my AU are currently WIP!

Kamek Great Mage's outfit with the tiny details. Kamek is probably thinkin about his SPA day...

Roy is thinking about seeing his little gang of punk friends back home. Morton is trying to distract Junior from his end-of-summertime sadness, showing him all the cool rocks and seashell he found.

Wendy is talking with some friends, probably updating them about her staying at Isle Delfino's best resort. Iggy is noting on his notebook all the new species he discovered on the Island.

Larry is not very happy the Summertime is over. Ludwig is sending his last photo of the vacantion to his GF.

Lemmy is probably pretending to be a sky pirate. Lord Bowser is clearly already thinking about the next invasion of the Mushroom Kingdom... or about a new and eccentric way to propose to the Princess.

*** - ***

That's it! That's the end of my first, small Series from my personal SMB HC/AU!

I'm very proud of how this drawing turned out and it was probably the hardest, most complex thing I've ever draw in YEARS (maybe EVER). It took me 4 full days to finish and it's the very first time I play with perspective. Two friends of mine helped me A LOT with the perspective study, so a very big thank you to you!

[dalamjisung]

as it was ✤ lee felix

word count: 4956

genre: angst, fluff

pairing: reader x lee felix

description: some people claim that it is better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all. you and felix have known each other ever since middle school and if there is one thing he really loves about you... it is the fact that you refuse to lose.

part of Summertime's Special Collab with @catiuskaa | series masterlist here

It’s hard, losing what you once had and loved. 

You think it’s the acceptance part that hurts the most. It’s the speeches and the fact that they are coming from anyone and everyone, but not the one person you want to hear it from. It’s the chin ups and you got this that makes you cringe. It’s the you’ll get through this, as if you’re doing it alone, and, really, you haven’t been alone since him. 

God, you hate losing what you once had and loved, but above all, you hate losing in general. You hate change. You hate having to accept something just because it happened, as if the randomness and the messiness of the world around you has the right to dictate your fate without you being able to get a single word in. No. No this is not how it works, you refuse to let this be how it works. 

You met Felix when you were in middle school, but your relationship only starts when you reach high school. You’re both fifteen and fumbly. It feels like a natural evolution from the friendship you two started ages ago, something all too natural for it to be the end all, be all of teenage-hood. It wasn’t until your first kiss, all stiff hands and awkward movements, that it dawned on you: Felix was your boyfriend. And you, in turn, were his girlfriend. It was a rush like no other, repeating that to yourself, and you still remember how you barely slept that night, bright eyed and wide smiles. You giggled and kicked your feet in the air, lips still tingling from the way his pressed against it, and it took you hours to stop remembering his face, all freckles and blushes, and how proud he looked.

People kept saying that college would be the hardest part. They said that you would be tested then, with new people and new situations. Maybe even new selves, if you were lucky enough to have one of those life-changing experiences that your parents always talked about with a far away look of nostalgia and longing for what once was. Truth be told, nothing really changed. You two still had friends, still went to parties, still graduated in different majors, and still, through it all, walked side by side, not wavering in your love for even a second. Because that was who you and Felix were: each other’s constants. 

So why is it that now, when you two are closer than you’ve ever been, when you live together and share a routine… why is that now is the moment when you can feel him slipping through your finger? 

Why now? 

What changed? 

Why did it change? 

Too many questions make your brain dizzy, and for what feels like the hundredth time just that month, you wake up with a headache. The space next to you is empty and when your hand glides over the made side of the bed, it’s already cold and too perfectly fixed in place– if you hadn’t woke up when Felix got home last night, you would have wondered if he had come home at all. With a sigh, you get up and get ready for work. It’s all a part of this new routine you created, one that is meant for two people but has been carried by only one. Something is missing, when you think about it. Obviously, Felix is missing, but it’s more than that. It’s more than just him standing next to you. It’s more than just his smile and his touches and his rough morning voice telling you to be careful to not stub your toe in the bedside table like you do every morning. It’s more than his wild hair and his fresh baked goods and his nagging about how much coffee you’re consuming. It’s… it’s just more. There is more, there is so much more, but you’re too tired to try and figure out what. Looking around the empty house, you frowned, overwhelmed with the sudden need to cry. You still remembered the day Felix came up to you, excitedly waving a newspaper listing in your face. 

“Babe, I swear it’s the perfect apartment– it’s our apartment!” 

You just laughed, grabbing it from his hand to take a closer look. “Sweetheart, this is like, miles away! It’s close to the beach! You just got a job four blocks away and I’m starting at the office downtown–““The bus stop is a block away and it takes a grand total of thirty minutes for us to get up to the centre,” He smiled, proud that he knew you were going to find something to pick on. “What else?” 

“Felix, have you even gone–“

“We have a visit scheduled in two days, and you can’t say you’re busy because you only start at your job next week!”

“Baby, I don’t know…” 

“And you never will until you see it! But Y/N, I mean it, this is our home.” 

There was something about the way he said it, the way his eyes twinkled with glee and his hand shook that goddamned piece of paper, that made you trust him. It made you trust him so much, in fact, that two days later, there you are, following a real state agent inside the apartment and listening to him rattle off some nonsense statistics about the ‘up and coming’ area. 

Felix had always been an excited person. Everything, to him, was a reason to smile, and you loved that about him. You loved that even through the worst times of your life, he was right there, smiling through it but never demanding you to smile, too. He didn’t impose his happiness and didn’t ignore your pain, he simply existed in what seemed to be eternal bliss. You knew better than to fall for this utopian trap, though, and you knew that when he cried, it was during his long showers, when the noise of the water hitting the tiles would cover the tiny hiccups that escaped him. You knew that he got upset and resentful when he felt ignored or left out and that instead of speaking out, he’d simply go silent for a day or two. You knew Felix, better than anyone ever did, and he couldn’t fool you, as much as he tried. 

This time there was no trick. He was truly happy. His smile reached his eyes and the freckles, peppered over his nose and cheeks, stretched with the way his cheeks pushed his eyes into the most adorable creases. “Baby, did you hear him? They have street parties and we could bring them brownies!” He gasped, coming closer to where you were crouched down checking the corners of the wood floor. “Y/N?”

“I heard him, sunshine,” You mumbled, eyes moving around the room with such careful precision that even the agent took a step back, gulping audibly at your sharp gaze. “That is very exciting. Let’s check the oven then, see if you can make those brownies to perfection.”

You hated to admit, but as hard as you tried, there was literally nothing wrong with the place. The fans worked perfectly, the walls had been newly painted, and both the kitchen and the bathroom had been renovated. It was something about how the last tenants destroyed the place before leaving and they had to redo everything. Besides it being a bit far away from your work, even the area seemed perfect– a bus stop thirty minutes away, two markets nearby, and an adorable high street just ten minutes north. And, of course, they had street parties and your wonderful boyfriend would be able to bake brownies and make friends.

It should’ve been the low, fixed price that drew you in. Should’ve been the offer of a rolling contract in such an incredible rent-controlled apartment or the fact that the neighbourhood was incredibly safe and family-oriented. Should’ve been the combination of all of the above, really, that sold you that freaking apartment.

But it wasn’t. 

It was Felix. 

It was the way he bounced in place as the agent slid a makeshift contract for you to go over.

It was the way he promised you that this was it– this was your home.

It was you both, waking up in that room, cooking breakfast in that kitchen, leaving to work through that door. 

“You don’t mind the commute?” He gasped when you signed your name in the dotted line, more surprised to not hear a peep of complaint from you than to see you actually signing the contract. You were the brain of you two, but you never actually told him no. You just made him consider all his options when he got into his tunnel vision of happiness. It was the perfect balance in the perfect relationship. 

And now, in the perfect apartment. 

Weeks after you both move in, he surprises you with a used car that quickly becomes a staple in your relationship. A car you two share. His job is the furthest away from the house, so Felix drives you to work and picks you up after. He is the one that buys the groceries, and preps dinner, and cleans on Sundays. He takes care of the home in a way that you can’t, but then, so do you. Your chores are the less pleasant ones, but are the ones you actually prefer. You take the trash out, and you clean the bathroom, and you fix the clogged pipes. You are better with your hands than your heart, but it works. You guys work. 

Or you guys worked. 

Throughout the day, it’s like you have a ball stuck in your throat. If you try to speak, or if you let your mind wander– and you do, you let it wander and it always wanders to him– you will start crying. The box of tissues next to your computer is almost empty and you are tired of pretending that ‘it’s just allergies.’ Allergy season is long gone and you know you are not fooling anyone. “Y/N?”

Your head snaps up to look at your co-worker, a girl that has been there since you started and has always been more than nice towards you. “Yeah?” You mumble, clearing your throat and attempting a smile. 

“Are you… are you okay? Work has been over for almost an hour but you’re still… here.”

You bite your tongue to stop the urge to bawl your eyes out. “I am waiting for my ride,” You chuckle a bit awkwardly. “So I thought I might as well get ahead with some of the things I need done by the end of the week.” 

“Ah. I see. Do… Do you want a ride home? I don’t mind, I brought my own car and–“

“Thank you, but it’s okay,” Interrupting her is the only way to make yourself feel less pitiful. Now that you know Felix is an hour late, you can’t help but think the worst, and that always makes you panic. “I uh, I have to make a call. See you Monday?”

She just waves you off before walking away. The noise of the door shutting behind her brings you back to life and you are launching yourself to your phone, knocking a picture frame you’ve had perched on your desk since day one. The rush to call Felix is real– he has never been this late before. Usually, you leave him a window of thirty minutes or so to get there; traffic could be a real bitch during rush hour and you know there is nothing he can do. But usually, he will text you. He will call you. Hell, he will send a fucking pigeon if he has to, but Felix would never leave you hanging in the wind. 

His voice on the other side of the call is the only thing that makes you breathe easier. “Y/N?”

“Felix! Oh my god, Lix, babe,” You gasped, hand over your heart as you fall back on your chair. “Love, where are you?! I was so worried, oh my god, I love you, never scare me like this ever again, I’m so serious!”

“What do you mean?” He sounds genuinely confused. “I’m at home.” 

“Home? Felix, why are you home?”

“Why wouldn’t I be home?” It’s the way he sounds genuinely confused that makes you explode. 

“Because you were supposed to pick me up, Felix! Like you do every fucking day!” You shout, eyes starting to tear up again and this time you do nothing to hold them back. You’re tired of holding back. 

“Oh. Oh shit, I forgot… Y/N, I forgot! I can come pick you up right now, I–“

“Don’t bother.” 

“No, no, I can come, you need a ride.”

You do need a ride. 

Technically, Felix is not wrong. 

Technically, Felix never wanted to hurt you. 

And yet, he has. Again and again and again, Felix has hurt you in ways you never thought he would. 

It’s not like you two never fight. Any couple, as good as they are, fight. It’s a need, even if it’s small and barely there; it’s what pushes a relationship forward when partners feel stuck and frustrated. When you fight with Felix, you tell him things that, otherwise, you just… wouldn’t. It’s not the best way to voice something out and having open conversations is always your preferred method of resolving conflict, but you don’t live in an ideal world and you are far from having an ideal relationship. But the truth of the matter is that ideal or not, this is your relationship and nothing, no matter what it is or how pressing it us, is more important than the beautiful balance you and Felix work so hard to keep. 

Or at least, used to work so hard to keep. 

As of late, you are just not sure anymore. From waking up early and leaving without saying goodbye to forgetting to pick you up, it just feels like that the more you let it go, the more you stay quiet and say nothing, the more you are simply letting Felix push you away. The worst part is that you simply don’t know why he’s pushing you away. You don’t know if it’s work keeping him busy, or if something is happening with his friends, or if it’s something entirely, but what you do know is that you’ve done nothing to create tension between you two and… and you know you can’t continue to do nothing to fix it. 

Stray tears silently fall down your cheeks when you hear the jingle of keys on the other side of the call. This is the most effort Felix has put into your relationship for the past few months and admitting that, even if to just yourself, breaks your heart in half. “I need–” But you pause. 

You don’t know what you need. 

There is an answer at the tip of your tongue– I need things to be as they were– but that’s not true. That’s not the right answer and you know; you know because it leaves a numb kind of pain in your chest, like someone is piling stones on your chest, daring you to take a deep breath and watch it all crumble. You’re so tired of walking on eggshells, so tired of being unsure of what to say when you know that there was a time in which you could say anything and his eyes would shine so bright with joy. 

“I need to sleep. I need to sleep it off and I need… I need you to stay home.”

“No, no, I can come pick you up, it’s no pro–“

“I know you can,” Your voice cuts through the phone so aggressively you need to take a deep breath. You had never dealt well with loss, and as much as you haven’t lost him yet, it surely feels like you are in the turbulent and painful process of it all. “But I need you to stay home. Do you understand? I need… I need space. I need, fuck Felix, I need… I need my best friend.” Whimpering, you hiccup, finally breaking the dam you’ve built  around your hurting heart all this time. There is no holding back anymore. “I need my best friend and I need my boyfriend and I need to understand, Lix, cause I don’t! I don’t understand and I don’t know what’s going on but I’m so nervous and anxious all the time, and I just need…” 

A sniffle. You hear a sniffle on the other side of the phone and you know that he’s crying. Felix has always been more emotional than you. He cries easily and he’s not embarrassed about it, not like you are. When Felix cries, you hug him, no matter what made him cry, no matter what you are feeling; you give him your shoulder to cry on, and you remind him, again and again, that you are not going anywhere. 

This time, you can’t do that. 

“I need to call my mom. I’ll uh, I’ll go sleep over hers tonight and we can talk tomorrow or… or whenever you’re free, I guess.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too. I got to go, but… I lo-love you.” The way you choke on your words scare you.

Even the first time you told Felix you loved him, as a friend and as something much more than that, you never stuttered. 

You never hesitated. 

“…and I know I’ve been playing since like, forever, but it’s not my fault the game is hard! It’s so hard, baby, and the guys won’t stop teasing me because I’m bronze,” He groaned, body falling on your bed in such a dramatic attempt to get your attention that you couldn’t leave him hanging. 

Putting your school homework aside, you scooted closer to him. And then you paused. 

Felix had just dyed his hair blonde for the first time and he had gotten in trouble with the principal, but he looked good. It suited him, the light colour; made it look almost like there was a constant halo shining around his face, framing his smile with pure sunshine and heavenly light. In your eyes, he was an angel. Always has been, and it showed through his actions more than his words. It was in the way he always put others before him, and how his friends were always his top priority. It was in the gentle way he took care of Jisung when he wasn’t feeling all that bright, or how he was quick to reassure Chan that he was doing good. It was in how he worked out with Changbin, despite his hatred for gyms, and how he teased Minho and Seungmin for their inane grumpiness, all to just see those precious, rare smiles they shone to no one else but Felix himself. It was in how he took care of Jeongin like an older brother, and how he was always there for you, reminding you to take breaks and look around you. Reminding you that there was life beyond school and jobs and expectations. 

Felix was your reminder that life waited for no one, but he would always wait for you. 

“Y/N, I can’t be any more clear here,” He grumbled, moving until his head was laying on your thigh. Looking down at him with raised brows, he sighed. “I want you to give me attention.”

“I am giving you attention, Lix,” You say, smiling when you slowly push your fingers through his hair. It feels drier than normal, but it’s still one of the best feelings in the world, especially when his eyes fall shut and that familiar blush spreads through his freckles. 

“I want more,” His voice is barely above a whisper now. “I want all your love and attention.”

“You got it all,” It’s like you’ve zoned out. Your eyes stuck on his face, memorising all the little things you missed when he’s not in front of you, tracing his features with your free hand like you were tracing a secret path you never want to forget. “You got all my love and attention, Felix. I love you.”

The way his body reacted to your words was almost comical. You can’t help rolling your eyes at his expression though– all big eyes and gaping mouth. “What did you just say?”

As much as you tried to play it cool, there was no lying to Felix, not when he could read you like a book and quote dialogues he committed to memory. “Felix, I tell you I love you all the time!” And you really did– you’ve done it  for a long, long time now, but this time it was different. You both knew it was different, and for a second, you just stared at each other. 

“But not like this,” He whispered, refusing to break eye contact with you. Right there and then, in your old childhood room, still wearing your high school uniforms, you two had just created a bubble– a little world no one else was welcome in besides you both and in there, in that safe and cosy space, lived all the emotions, all the doubt, all the insecurities that two teenagers in love carried around hidden in their sleeves. In the bubble, though, you don’t need to hide anything. 

“Yeah, well,” You looked down at your hands, getting a bit antsy now that it had been a while and he wasn't saying anything. “I love you like this now. So, yeah.”

“Y/N, look at me.” You shook your head at his request. “Come on, babe, look at me.” 

His fingers hooked under your chin, raising your gaze to meet his and he’s way closer than before, lips brushing against yours when he gently kissed you. It’s a chaste kiss, similar to the ones you two would share in the early beginnings of your relationship. And just like then, your heart sped up, inhaling sharply when he said– “I’ve loved you like this since always.”

Safe to say, you don’t sleep that night.

You wish you could say it was because you’re not used to sleeping alone, but recently, that is all you have been used to. The absence of Felix. 

You don’t sleep because you can’t stop crying. Your mother did her best, like always, to try and calm you down, but she is not used to this– she is not used to the woman you’ve become when she left you at your campus just a teenager. Her best advice, however, is everlasting, and it just makes you cry even more. “I think… I think you need to talk to him. He’s the only one that can give you any kind of answer, sweetheart. He’s your best friend and he knows you better than anyone. Felix would never do anything to hurt you, you know that Y/N. Just talk to him.”

That’s how you end up there, at the beach just a quick walk away from your apartment. You haven’t called him yet, and in all honesty, you’re quite scared to do so. As confrontational as you are in your day to day, confronting Felix is a whole other thing. He gets that stunned look in his face, and his eyes shine with unshed tears. He cries out of guilt, and not because whatever you are talking about is his fault, but just because he will always fault himself when something shifts out of place. He tried to be good like that, refusing to let you share blame and taking it all to himself. And it doesn’t matter how many times you tell him to not do that, to let you face the mistakes you make as a couple next to him, he doesn’t; because Felix would rather hurt himself, than make you hurt. 

“Y/N.”

It’s a bit of a pathetic scene, the one he catches you in. You are wearing some old clothes you still had at your mother’s, and they don’t fit all that well, but it’s better than staying in your office clothes all night long. If you are not wrong, the sweatpants you’re wearing belong to no one other than the man behind you, from the old times when he used to sleep over on the weekends. The t-shirt is your mom’s and it has a tacky, self-help saying in the front that you don’t even dare to read, your hair is a bird’s nest, and you have your heels next to you, naked feet buried in the sand. But none of it matters. Not to him. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“I was taking a walk and I saw you,” You don’t have to look back to know he’s awkwardly swaying back and forth, unsure if he should come to you or not. It’s crazy how accurately you can picture him in your mind.

Sighing, you move your heels to the space between your legs, giving him the unspoken permission he needs to come sit by you. “Y/N, I’m sorry.”

Just as you predicted, he is quick to apologise. He is always quick to apologise, but it confuses you a little in this instance. “What are you sorry for, Felix?” 

“Don’t–“ The frustrated sigh he let out is so guttural that it makes you jump a little, head snapping to look at him. “Don’t shut down again.”

“Felix, I’m not shutting down, I–“

“No, you are! You are shutting down because that’s what you always do! You panic, and then you wait until things pass over, and when they don’t, you shut down, and I don’t want you to shut down because I don’t want you to give up on us!”

“Give up on us?!” Your blood is boiling now, and you turn to look at him with an enraged expression. “You gave up on us! You’re the one that disappeared in the mornings, and never came home during the fucking weekends, and that was late for dinners, and that forgot to pick me up!” The more you speak, the higher your voice gets, sounding so scratchy that you can’t even stand it anymore. But that doesn’t stop you– it doesn’t stop you from screaming and crying and shaking. It doesn’t stop you from fighting, because no matter what he does or doesn’t do, you don’t think you can ever stop fighting for you two. “You forgot about me! How could you forget about me?! We live together and and– and oh my god Felix, why did you forget about me?”

By the end of your speech, you’re panting, trying to breathe through the panic. Now that you’ve said it, it sounds so… real. So true. 

You refuse to look at him. As soon as you see the tears in his eyes, you’ll forget everything else and open your arms to him. If you do that now, then you are no better than the people that resign their love, the ones that would rather not fight, and therefore, rather not fix. 

“I… I thought you were tired of me.”

“Excuse me?” 

“You… I don’t know, it wasn’t anything you’ve done, but I just– I– I thought I was losing you, Y/N. We’ve been together for almost ten years. A decade! And every day is like… like the best day of my life. But… But I got scared. I was afraid you were tired of me, so I tried to give you some space. Some moments at home for you to enjoy some peace and quiet, have a nice bath, go out with your co-workers. I didn’t want to suffocate you, Y/N, that’s all, but I guess I took it too far, and I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to. I really didn’t mean to, you have to believe me. I couldn’t sleep knowing I forgot to pick you up because I was too in my head, baby…”

It’s hard to stay angry at him when he’s being oh so honest. You’ve had your moments before– the days where being next to him felt so heavy and hard because you just couldn’t fathom why he was still with you. Why wasn't he bored, or tired, or annoyed of the little things you did. Why did he keep smiling and laughing like your jokes were new. But even in your worst days, you never wanted space. You will never want space. In fact, this was the first time you have asked him for it, and even then, it just didn’t feel right. “Felix, why would I be tired of you? I love you. I… I love you in all ways I can love you. You’re not just my boyfriend, Lix. You’re my oldest friend, my best friend, and, and you know, the guy I hope will be my forever. I could never get tired of you.” 

“I love you too,” He shifts forward, forehead resting against yours. His sniffling makes you smile. “I love you so much, always have.”

“I know, so please… never make me doubt it again,” With a peck to his lips, you wipe your face dry and get up, holding your shoes in one hand and extending the other one for him.

“I never will,” He swore, squeezing your hand as you walked back home. “I’ll be better, I promise. We’ll be like we were in the blink of an eye, you’ll see!” 

“No, sweetheart, it’s not about going back to how it was,” You say, shaking your head with a knowing smile. “It’s about building something much, much better from here on out.”

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

aaaaaahhhhh I'm so excited for this collab! the amazing @catiuskaa already posted Minho's story and you should all go check it out >.< It's in the masterlist tagged above! I hope you all have as much fun reading this as we do writing it <3

[artisticestheticreads]

Me just waiting for y'all to see the new chapter of SummerTime Magic:

-SWEET BABIES-

@muse-of-mbaku @im5ftbutmythroat66 @chaneajoyyy @melanin-samii @theunsweetenedtruth @doux-ciel @unicornluvin8765 @vikkidc @wakandantings @thadelightfulone @mzamethystp @simbiann @tropicalsun10 @babydoll756 @notoriouslynay @vminax @quinsly @pinkdemolition @quietstorm-73 @chaoticcashfancroissant @bugngiz @chocolatedippedinhoney @yafavcocoa @lostgalaxies @mbakuwife @youreadthatright @babygotl01292003 @acceptyourselfloveyourself @madamslayyy @yoyolovesbucky @theogbadbitch @wakanda-inspired @bitchacho25 @toniilaney @wakandascrystal @girlsneedlovingfanfics @raysunshine78 @melodyofmbaku @hearteyes-for-killmonger @silenceisplatinum @thickemadame @shookmcgookqueen @heykillmongerluhme @fonville-designs @cutewylie @allhailqueennel @10bsatatime @nickidub718 @lildashofmelanin @allhailqueennel @amirra88 @hakunalive4eva @thickemadame @ghostfacekill-monger 

[m0rguem0th]

goretober day 28 - pull

is that. is that allowed

[superblysubpar]

steve harrington x fem!reader | best friends to lovers

It’s summer again, same old same old with your best friend. Popcorn and sticky movie theater floors and after let’s share a strawberry shake and fries - Wait, when did Steve get so…Hold on, hold on, you’re best friends. Here, have a grape popsicle, I know it’s your favorite honey. Oh look, a shooting star, what’s your wish?

The Story:

this is a part of the summertime magic universe

June | I Was Next To You & You Were Right There Next To Me July | I Swear It's True, Without You My Heart Is Blue August | So Make A Move, Cause I Ain't Got All Night

The Music:

Posted throughout each story you'll find the "soundtrack of summer". Tapping on the radio emoji next to a lyric will bring you to a song OR you can find each full playlist here

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

In The Summertime 3

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, manipulation, power imbalance, grooming behaviour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your father’s best friend gives you a job for the summer, but he’s not so interested in your work ethic.

Character: dbf!Helmut Zemo

Note: Onto my break. I'll still be around for any of your asks, etc.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Zemo’s temporary office is airier, cozier. The lender of the space has much more modern taste, photos of the world’s capitals framed all around with some obscure foreign films intermingled.  A large daybed looks out a bay window in the front and a desk sits before a wall of shelves, white and pristine unlike his own antique mahogany and walnut. 

There’s a sofa against the other wall and a minifridge in the corner, a kettle on top with a chest of tea bags and jar of instant coffee. Beside the daybed, a small square metal table with a dining chair set before it. He apologises at the impromptu set up as he deems it your own.

You set to unpacking his books on the shelf emptied for his occupation. He’s at the desk pulling open the drawers and shuffling through his things as he sorts them out. You glance along those things remaining in the other cubbies, a crystal bottle of pink perfume with a vintage style pump and dried roses. 

It must be a woman. That makes you wonder. It is a rather generous favour.

You carry on in the hazy silence of a high summer noon. A sudden crackle interrupts the lull and you turn to watch Zemo twist the knob on a small yellow radio, flicking the antenna to catch a signal.

Through the static, you hear the intro of radio jockeys and the low intro of the next song. He continues his efforts until the reception clears and you can make out the retro tones of The Police.

Inside him, there's longing This girl's an open page Book marking, she's so close now This girl is half his age…

You don't know the song very well. Your father listens to some of that band, mostly the one about a castaway. You're grateful for the music, it fills the tedium of your work and eases the underlying nervousness that piques now and again. It comes to you that rarely did you spend so much time alone with Zemo.

“Ah, what a tedious day,” Zemo remarks as he rubs his lower back, standing behind the desk with a swoop of hair hanging forward, a sheen of sweat across his brow.

“It’s not so bad,” you chime, “it’s a nice place.”

“Oh yes, wonderful. My companion did say I could have full use of the home. My late nights need not be spent sleeping in a chair,” he chuckles and sits heavily in the leather seat, “ah, but the heat reminds me of my age.”

You keep a hold of the book in your hand and come closer, “are you alright?”

“Ah, I am only dramatic,” he waves you off and unbuttons his collar. “What one is that?” 

He points and you look down to the novel in your hand. You bring it up and admire the tattered edges of the embossed cover; The Portrait of a Lady. You’ve never heard of it. It looks Victorian. You hold it out as you approach.

“Oh, yes, a classic. If not wildly unknown. I recommend it.”

You glance at it again and shrug. He chuckles and you look at him once more. He seems amused.

“First assignment, read it,” he taps the desk, “simple.”

“Pardon?”

“Oh yes, of course, it will aid you in our coming research,” he declares, “which I’m afraid I’ve not even shared my thesis with you. Hard to do prior to our delve into the literature. All I can say is we will be looking at a very common trope among writers, ancient, medieval, Victorian, near every era has had some fascination with the older man and the younger woman,” he pushes back his hair, trying to fix it as a stubborn strands sticks up at his crown, “it speaks often of the way of culture and society. The structural imbalances internalised by the author and characters alike.”

“Oh, wow,” you turn back with the book, “interesting.”

“It isn’t some new phenomenon or point of intrigue, but I shall explore it nonetheless. History is more than dates and boring wars,” he girds, “I always found the most interesting pieces to be the innately humanistic and what is more human than romance. Than what we perceive as love. Sex, at it’s basest, and companionship at its most genuine.”

“I never thought much of it, I guess,” you sit at the small table and lay the book down.

“But it is all around you. How many couples do you see pasted across tabloids and gossip blogs akin to Jane Eyre and her Rochester. A whole generation apart and yet they are lovers? How curious that we deify such a tale over and over.”

“Hmm,” you hum thoughtfully, cheeks touched with the warmth.

“As an older man, I suppose I notice it more often. Perhaps it is why it has stuck. I remain the eternal bachelor and can’t help but wonder at what element of youth draws these men so strongly to these women. It must be more than attraction, surely, but something deeper,” he puts his hands up as he explains his thoughts, “my preliminary assumption is that these stories are covert explorations of the male crises of middle age, countered in turn by the vulnerability of feminine youth and beauty.”

It sounds complicated but makes sense. While many would condemn an age difference so vast, there is a common fascination underlying these stories. Bronte is still regarded as romance, isn’t it? And you watched a few too many teen shows that presented similar gaps as forbidden love.

“I… yeah, I think I get it,” you say, “now that you say it.”

“Of course there is some reality to these tropes. Men’s worth as regarded in society has historically been economic, thus it lasts longer, whereas women were traditionally prized for their fertility and physical attributes. As muses, wives, mothers…” he seems to lose himself in a medley of racing thoughts, “and so we seek to bridge between fiction and fact.”

“Hmm, I never really considered it…” you shrug, “well, I’m young, I guess I just didn’t notice.”

“Ah, yes, naivete, another common theme to these stories. I’m afraid in this moment we are reenacting the most common steps of the dance; the young innocent enlightened by the weathered pessimist.” He laughs and claps his chest, “ugh, forgive me, I’ve some indigestion. A hair too much coffee.”

“Uh, yeah,” you open the cover and read the first page, printed with fading ink. You admire the intricate bold type of the title. “I suppose I should start reading?”

“At your leisure,” he stands, the chair lurching harshly. “We’ve only just got settled,” he walks across the room, close behind you as he stands by the daybed and peers out the tall window, “it is near lunchtime.”

“Is it?” You look over your shoulder.

“Are you hungry? I am a bit peckish. There is a bistro close by, me and the owner of this house frequent it when we argue about some dead philosopher or another.”

“Oh?” you let the book close as you put your hands in your lap. “I brought a sandwich–”

“Save it,” he insists, “let it be my treat. As a welcome and a show of appreciation for your hard work. I’ll admit, I think I was ambitious in packing. I likely won’t need all that we brought.”

You don’t argue. Your father says it often how once Zemo has an idea, he does not let it go. Besides, you won’t complain for a free meal.

“Alright,” you stand, careful not to hit him with the chair. You come close to him and smell the subtle tones of bergamot that cling to him, “what kind of food do they have?”

“Standard fare,” he looks at you, his dark eyes meeting yours before he inches back on his heels. He turns and clears his throat, “salad, sandwiches, soup. They have a cabbage soup which often runs out before I can even order.” 

He goes to his chair and takes his blazer from the back of it, shrugging it onto his shoulders, “and dessert.” He smirks, “I know you’ve a sweet tooth, dear.”

You laugh. You’re sure your father mentions how he can rarely get a single cookie before the sleeve is empty. You grab your purse and approach the door as he does too, nearly colliding.

“Careful,” he warns as he touches your arm and beckons you ahead of him, “ladies first.”

You take his direction, his word hanging over you. Ladies. In that moment, you feel quite mature.

☀️

You sit at the table. You have a glass of sparkling water with a spear of lime over the brim. It’s a lot fancier than the chain restaurants your dad adores. 

“A lot tamer than college, eh?” He asks as he pushes the lemon off the rim of his glass and watches it sink in the water.

“Oh, not really. I mostly studied.”

“You needn’t lie to me. I was a student once too. It is not all books and stuffy lectures. Well, I should know, I’ve accepted many a hangover as means for an extension,” he teases, “there is nothing wrong with indulging in the freedom of youth.”

“Really,” you say, “I didn’t really go out. My friends aren’t really into that scene. The most excitement I got was bubble soccer.”

“Oh, sounds… interesting.”

“It is. Kinda dangerous. You run around in these plastic bubbles and get bounced around trying to score a point,” you snort, “I was mostly on my back.”

“Adventurous,” he muses, “you made many friends?”

“A few. Classes are pretty big, it’s hard to know everyone.”

“Not like here,” he says, “and your professors? Did you like them?”

“Yeah, they were good. Well, except one, he was kind of… strict.”

“Ah yes, that type can drain the joy right out of the subject,” he tuts, “have you given any thought to what you’ll do after your degree? Another?”

“Uh, oh, no, I haven’t…” you sputter.

“Not to worry, you’ve time. But I warn you, it goes fast. Just look at me,” he plays with the streak of silver at his temple.

“Yeah,” you chew your lip.

“If you do consider a masters, you can always consider me,” he offers, “I take on assistants now and then. Of course, this year, I didn’t have any candidates. Better for it, I was abroad rather often.”

“Hmm, I’ll have to think about it,” you take a sip from your drink, “I’ll have to see what dad says. He is paying for all this.”

“He knows the importance of education. Even a man of craft can appreciate intellect,” he says, “even him.”

The waiter returns and sets down your plates. You thank him as your stomach growls at the smell of the grilled chicken wrap and fries. You notice that Zemo has opted only for a bowl of soup and crackers.

“Smells great,” you say as you carefully wiggle free the long toothpick, “thank you so much.”

“Not at all, it is my pleasure,” he picks up his spoon and stirs the soup, “lunch with a pretty young woman, I should thank you.”

“Uh, right” you murmur.

“You know I do tend to carry my shoe between my teeth with how often I put my foot in my mouth,” he kids, “my honesty does come off rather bluntly. I only mean, well, you’ve blossomed, yes? I can sense it in how you hold yourself, in how you take in the world around you. Curiosity is a very admirable quality.”

You don’t know what to say so you bite into your wrap. It’s a compliment, surely, but unlike any you’ve received before. Zemo’s way of talking, his demeanour, always keeps you on his toes. He’s eccentric but well-meaning. Your father always laughed whenever he blustered over his books vehemently. It was almost comical to think of the man as anything but a feckless scholar.

“There’s a lot to learn,” you swallow, “if college has taught me anything, it’s that.”

[laurelroadpoetry]

millennial meltdown photo series.