#the way he breaks the curse is by dying
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Mike is cursed to live the same thing over and over again. Watching, supporting, and even helping someone commit crimes while telling them itâs okay and it doesnât make them a bad person, and all they have to do is this one thing, and then they can stop and live whatever kind of life they want only for that person to die and for Mike to be somewhat responsible.
This post is brought to you by I bet on losing dogs by Mitski.
#better call saul#breaking bad#mike erhmantraut#Mike has always been one of the most interesting characters to me#I love him so much#the way he breaks the curse is by dying#honestly one of the reasons Jesse lived imo#so sad I could cry right now#the only people that made were Jesse and Pryce#itâs three am and Iâm so tired but I canât stop thinking about Mike and his criminal sons and his german wife#breaking bad spoilers#better call saul spoilers#tagging that so my sister doesnât see this
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revamped looong mermaid orufrey au :')
#witch hat tag#orufrey#partial nudity /#about half of it is new the other half is redrawn from last year. Why would you rescribble some scribbles. Well it was bad.#i always underestimate how much i've improved in a year last may was questionable. also it's not even may any more so why mermaids now.#sorry if you remember this but at least half is new story. i'll just paste more explanation from twt....#first qifrey was cursed by EVIL WITCH eye taken and thrown into the sea#memory-less. then kind little witch boy oru found him on the beach & they became friends#they drifted apart after falling for each other bc qif knew he could never be with him.#oru walked on the beach every day for years hoping to see him again until so desperate he goes into the sea (on a ship?) & is dying#qifrey saved him with a kiss. they got closer &oru swore to find a way to save him that wasnt dangerous but qif knew hed need a dark witch.#(that witch was probably the one who cursed him..just toying with him...) in with the spell oru DOES forget him for real#even tho he needs to give Kiss Of True Love before qif turns totally blind for qif to stay human for good or become seafoam. but oru someho#the oldest magic is love..the ability to break through the curses of loneliness and despair. qif already did that for him#so oru was able to do it back later. he fell in love with him again..but also realised it was obviously him....well anyway......#originally the 'finding oru stranded like that guy in the little mermaid' was a separate au but it still makes sense to combine them#i dont want them to have not met in childhood...thats the orufrey thing....#im going to work on Proper drawings next instead of silly comics as usual....
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@thedragonagelesbian
Sometimes a new adventurer dies because of hagâs curse and she comes back a little different
#bryn acevedo#I decided that this playthrough that I would commemorate Brynâs first death with a scar#and then she died in hagâs lair to psychic damage#and i thought this would be a fun way to mark the occasion#bryn? dying of because she was marked with the curse of regret and she didnât want to damage the hag spawn that curse her while they were#succeeding on their wis saves?#also#the only reason she didnât flee with karlach and shadowheart was because she couldnât leave wyll behind? and he ended up reviving her#her breaking down sobbing once he shows her and then they have 'you should get out this pact' conversation#too good to pass up#my bug eyed girl
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I feel like life series fanon jimmy is kind of mischaracterized and thereâs an easy way to make sure youâre doing it right: he has a lot of unearned confidence
#the tags is where Iâm going to ACTUALLY say stuff LOL!!!#but like I love life series Jimmy mkay. heâs got that curse of dying first and all. which is what I mean by fanon cuz curses arenât real#but a lot of fans make it like Jimmy accepts the curse? or even acknowledges that itâs real. which bugs me a bit cuz No He Does Not#(side note tho. Iâm not mad about it. I know ppl wanna explore the concept of someone cursed to die first and thatâs what theyâre doing)#but like Jimmy would just be so in denial about it okay. even if you managed to convince him he would be like â..BUT SURELY THIS TIMEâ#and this relates to ranchers too. I love ranchers ok. mostly cuz my sister does tbh LMAOO she loves them. but ranchers fan content isnât#what Iâm looking for cuz itâs so often stuff like.. Jimmy being like âIâm sorry Iâm cursedâ and Tango being like âitâs ok love u anywayâ#but itâs really more like âCURSED?? NO! WE WILL WIN!â which I think is MORE fun for the aftermath of their death. meeting in the afterlife.#I NEED to see ranchers content where they keep denying that the curse is real then Jimmy dies and theyâre ghosts or whatever and Jimmyâs#like âoh no. we didnât break the curse. tango probably hates me now. he only liked me cuz we thought the curse wasnât real.â and tango to be#like upset at first as anyone would be when they die. but then he like notices the way Jimmy is acting and heâs like âno.. ranchers 4 lifeâ#???? what am I saying. hire me for writing fanfic I totally know what Iâm doing.#anyways what Iâm saying is Jimmy is the canary but heâs the canary thatâs like âSURELY I can sing for the miners the whole way THIS timeâ#he is NOT the canary who says âWELL time to eventually stop singing in this caveâ#HOWEVER I do think that although he has loads of unearned confidence and is in a constant state of denial. he does also have that crumble#sometimes. so itâs not totally ooc imo for him to act like that. but it would be rare moments and also mostly post death#ANOTHER SIDE NOTE I WANNA SAY. I HATE the way Iâm saying this as if itâs fact. itâs my personal analysis and just because I think itâs right#doesnât mean I want to present it as undeniable fact. I could be misinterpreting. if you want to interpret life!Jimmyâs character different#then go on ahead. I donât hate fanon Jimmy I just wish I saw more like how I see him. that is all.#ok I lied I also wanna add that Iâm bad at explaining things ESPECIALLY personalities so itâs possible that I didnât convey what I wanted to#say properly too. sorry. OKAY NOW THAT IS ALL.
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Hello, hope you don't mind me coming in so much to posit a lot of What If questions. BUT YOU CANT STOP ME EITHER WAY! You've just made a really good sandbox world to ponder in lol
But! I'm on my lunch and NEEDED to ask you: I can probably assume that you've thought about an AU where Jacqueline was the firstborn and therefore got cursed. BUT! What if it was THE TWINS that were born first? Twins -> Jack -> Jacqueline birth order.
Would the curse only work on one twin? Would it work on both? How devastating do you think it would be for Blaise to deal with two cursed twins? How MORE devastating would it be for him to watch as only one twin is cursed and they both have a violent falling out HAVING TO WATCH THE CYCLE CONTINUE YET AGAIN!?
How would Jack and Jacqueline deal with their oldest sibling (or siblings) being cursed and evil?
I know we're on the cusp of receiving more Blaise angst in the next chapters, but just a whole lot of family angst please!
Do you know, I have tango'd with the idea of reverse age order, where Fino and Fiera came first, THEN Jack and Jacqueline, and I've never actually been able to like. Figure it out in my head! I think a younger Jack and Jacqueline is an absolutely HORRIBLE thing, could you IMAGINE???? They'd be gremlins, my god, there's only a few hundred years between them instead of a thousand and an almost half and they'd be TROUBLE. ON TOPIC NOW
I've no idea which twin actually came first. I think Fiera's older? But some days she says Fino is older? But I'm like, 80% sure Fino's the baby. By a few seconds if anything. Anyway, rambles aside, lemme. Rotate this in my head all day as I slowly answer this bc now I'm thinking! Now I am THINKING.
Anyway, we love to see what ifs so please, don't apologize! SO. Let's what if! Here's how I think it would go...
I think that they would share the curse, a la the way Eda and Lilith do in The Owl House. MAYBE they're both born with it; maybe it's just the one. Regardless, they look out for one another because curse aside, that's their hecking TWIN. So somehow, in some way, whether it be one gets it and the other finds a way to use magic to split it, or they are both born with half a curse, they're sharing it.
And it's. It's rough. given that it is divided, they're not as evil as they could be, but they have some bad days, some worse days, sometimes they're both doing schemes, other times one is scheming and the other is being a voice of reason. Basically, the entire time they are cursed, they're out here supporting each other, both WITH evil schemes/shenanigans, and maybe NOT doing that particular one. I will say, though, that a cursed Fino and Fiera duo would deff be responsible for some (if not all) of the following, and more probably:
Pompeii
Every fire London has ever had, ever
Global warming/climate change
Waters receding
Summers being WAY TOO HOT
Forest fires
Most famous explosions
The Titanic, somehow, but that was an accident, for real, they mean it
They're chaotic! And they don't really have a sort of focus on any one particular like, legendary figure or anything. They're just here to ruin everything. They're trying not to, most days! Really! But it's HARD. They just can't not set the thing on fire. And when Fino starts dipping into the warlock stuff? Dear god. Shenanigans do be RAMPING UP.
Blaise is just constantly exhausted. He is too tired to even THINK of the moral consequences or how he feels or anything like that. His daily mantra is "FUCK my STUPID, FUCKING BROTHER". I think if the Twins were BOTH cursed, he'd 100% believe in the curse and just. Curse Pyros back, maybe even. Winter, meanwhile, is too warm to function. This house is too hot. But she agrees with Blaise 100%: FUCK Pyros, man. That guy SUCKS.
BUT ANYWAY, I've no idea when Jack comes around, but when he does, the Twins do tone it down a notch. they're like, look, there's a kid involved? Maybe we should like. Try to keep it cool. Winter's happy to finally have ANOTHER WINTER SPRITE in the house. Finally, she can cool off.
OH. BUT YOU KNOW WHAT WOULD PROBABLY HAPPEN??????
THE TWINS WOULD PROBABLY GROW RESENTFUL TOWARDS JACK! ESPECIALLY SINCE HE IS, AFTER ALL, JACK FROST, RIGHT? SO HE GETS THE TITLE AND MAKES A NAME FOR HIMSELF AND IS KNOWN BY ALL AND FINO AND FIERA AREN'T AND THIS DEFFS UPSETS THEM. OH MY GOD. OH NO. AND THEN JACQUELINE COMES AROUND, AND SHE IS THE BABY OF THE FAMILY, AND JACK IS LIKE, LOOK AT MY LITTLE SISTER! AND SHOWS OBVIOUS FAVOURITISM, AND OH MY GOD. THE RESENTMENT BUILDS.
Sorry this is so rambley, but like. I am thinking as we go here! This is a Live Dani Reaction! Anyway, the downside to all of these speculations is that I see NO way in which Jacqueline doesn't STILL get hurt bad, barring the obvious "Only one twin is cursed, the other isn't at fights to save their Twin, only to get hurt badly in the end in the Twin's own version of the day of darkness". AND THEN, seeing all FOUR kids be part of this infeuding fallout thing, my god. Repeating the cycle? these fuckos are out here doing it at TWO TIMES THE SPEED, APPARENTLY!
Okay this is SUCH a ramble, I am SO sorry, let me tl;dr some answers for you:
The curse could work on one twin, or both! I personally like the idea of them sharing it, bc it would frustrate both Blaise AND Pyros and that is HILARIOUS to me
Pyros being like COME ON. BE MORE EVIL and Blaise being like PLEASE. BE LESS EVIL. As the pair of them pull one way over the other and deal with this life long struggle of being cursed stony!
IF they share it, they would grow resentment when Jack gets his title, and even more resentful when Jacqueline comes along bc of favouritism from Jack, and also favouritism they'd perceive from Blinter, though Blinter wouldn't show obvious favouritism to the two younger kids.
(Jack's an ass, though. He WOULD show favouritism amongst the siblings, and not being the cursed kid wouldn't change that at all lmao)
And this would lead to a DoD tragedy with the Twins hurting Jacqueline, because in the "they share it" option, there is no way Jacqueline DOESN'T get Day of Darkness'd, FIRE edition.
Anyway (so much for a tl;dr)
IF one twin is cursed but not the other, either
A) the not-cursed Twin would find a way to share the curse, or
B) they would have a DoD equivalent fallout
And yes, Blaise would be heartbroken by this! Because the cycle, despite his best attempts, continues once again; he's been dragged back into his toxic family's shit, the history has repeated himself and he tried EVERYTHING to avoid it but couldn't do it! Devastating blow for the groupchat! It isn't his fault but of course he'd blame himself.
Jack would probably be really shitty right back to them any time they were super evil to him, whereas Jacqueline, being the lil bundle of energy and excitement and absolute sunshine she was as a kid, would ADORE her twin siblings and be ALL over them which I'm sure would get annoying to a point
She'd probably try, when she's older, to find a way to help them. Could you imagine? A travelling sorcerer Jacqueline, who picks up on the Warlock blood and learns as MUCH as she can to try and help her older siblings, bc she sees how hard it's been for them; she sees how much they've upset Jack, and she sees how much it hurts her parents and by the GODDESS, SHE IS GOING TO BREAK THIS DAMNED CYCLE OR HER NAME ISN'T JACQUELINE WINTER FROST, LEGATE TO JACK FROST, SORCERESS EXTRAORDINAIRE (she'd totally call herself a sorceress bc it sounds badasss and sorcerers would get mad at her like YOU ARE USING ALL THE MAGIC! YOU ARE A WARLOCK NOT A SORCERER! and she, of course, would reply with an I do what I WANT)
So yes, a LOT more angst on ALL fronts, especially with Blaise! But I think that Jacqueline's determination to break the cycle, her unrelenting positivity and her "idgaf that you don't think I can/should do this, I AM GOING TO DO IT" attitude really kinda moves them all!
And maybe, maybe she manages to break the curse just through sheer determination. Or maybe she runs into Lucy in her travels, who helps her break their curse. who's to say! There's so many ways it could go! But by GOD if I don't love every single one of the possibilities that I've thought of, LET ALONE the ones anyone reading this may think of along the way!
#andie this was a doozy (affectionate)#holy SHIT SNACKS#this is such a fascinating prospect! i NEVER considered the CURSE with the OLDER TWINS scenario#dying about how high fantasy all these would be. holy HELL#jack reluctantly helping jacqueline#and maybe his lil icy heart warms along the way when he sees his little sister DETERMINED to help their older siblings#and so he joins in too#and then winter is like this is amazing. i'm helping too#and she probz gives a very despondent blaise a very intense speech about breaking the mother fucking cycle#and if the other kids are trying then by the goddess WE WILL TOO#and blaise eventually being like you are RIGHT. I'M NOT LETTING PYROS BREAK ANOTHER FAMILY. MY FAMILY. LET'S DO IT#i'm EXPLODING ABOUT IT ANDIE#AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH#dani answers#cs aus#crystal springs#ask box shenanigans#alpharra#long post#i'll think of where to place the uh. read more. if needed. at some point#and yes i have considered a reversal where jacqueline's the eldest and jack's the second/middlest!!!#needless to say. jacqueline is one hell of a villain#thanks for the ask! i love these SO MUCH
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THE WAY I COULDN'T FIT ALL YOUR TAGS INTO A SINGLE SCREENSHOT I'M GOING TO KITH YOU đŤľđ AND NOT YOU LITERALLY PULLING AN ALLNIGHTER JUST TO FINISH IT ???? i'm simultaneously honoured and CONCERNED
the essence of youth is summers with you
genre: poly!surfers!ateez x fem!reader, childhood best friend!san, sort of college!au, slice of life and coming of age, slow burn, fluff, angst
length: 38.7k
c/w: surfer!ateez (deserves a warning), explicit profanity, hella angst, mentions of alcohol, themes of sexuality and homophobia, arguments, implied toxicity (not the boys), miscommunication, kissing, m x m interactions
synopsis: when you move away from your hometown at the age of six, you discover that summer in namhae takes the form of a skinny, dimpled boy who loves the sea and holding handsâ choi san. but as the summers go past and he goes to seoul for college, bringing back new friends each year, you start to develop feelings that run deeper than just friendship. will your summers of youth become ones of love and dreams, or will they end in pain and heartbreak?
a/n: i owe the biggest thank you to yumi @sorryimananti-romantic for making this fic possible and for all the support she's given me in the last three months. this fic has quickly become one that i hold dearly in my heart because of how healing it has been to write, so i hope this is also healing to read âĄ
itâs the first day of summer when you move to namhae.
the houses and trees flicker past and eventually peter out into vaster fields, mudflats and stretches of beach as your father drives through the countryside from yeosu to namhae. you idly wonder if summer in namhae will be like what it is back in your hometown.
it isnât very comfortable wedged between your parents in the middle seat of the mini-truck, especially when some of the roads become unpaved as you arrive closer to the village. but youâre wearing your cute, yellow sundress with bumble bees across the front pocket, which is your big-girl dress, so you can deal with the bumpiness a little longer without complaining. the truck sounds like itâs going to give out as it groans and sputters to a stop in front of what will be your new home.
tentatively, you hop out and look around. itâs a quaint beach house that rests along a modest coastal embankment. when you walk closer to the edge of the port, you see that thereâs a stretch of sand that leads to the ocean, and a little further down the coast is another beach houseâ your new neighbours.
the rattle of your truck must have alerted them to your arrival, because they come out with warm smiles and even warmer greetings. they exchange handshakes and hugs with your parents, then the attention falls to you. thereâs a boy who peers out from behind his motherâs legs as she compliments your dress, his round eyes brimming with curiosity at the sight of a potential playmate other than his sister. you cling onto the side of your motherâs dress and the adults share a laugh.
the boyâs mother gently nudges him forward. âgo on, sweetie. say hi.â
with another nod of encouragement, the boy shuffles closer to you with an impish grin. you realise heâs shorter than you are. âhi, iâm san. iâm six years old and i like the sea!â
the grip you have on your motherâs dress loosens a little as you mumble shyly in return, âiâm y/n. iâm six and i like the sea too.â
his smile grows impossibly wider, and his eyes and remaining reservations disappear at your words. reaching out, he grabs your hand in a physical declaration of friendship. your other hand falls away from your motherâs dress.
âweâre going to go play at the beach,â he announces, because youâre his friend now and friends play together.
on your first day of summer in namhae, you find that summer takes the form of a skinny, dimpled boy who loves the sea and holding hands.
âsannie!â you skid across the wooden floorboards of his living room in your sock-clad feet, startling his father who is sitting on the couch with a newspaper.
he peers at you from above his glasses with the smile that stays consistently warm, be it from him or his son. he chuckles, âhello, sweetheart, here to play with san again?â
you bow slightly in greeting and nod before you whiz off once more in the direction of sanâs room. summer vacation has only just started and you and san have already spent seven summers together, but there are crabs to chase and waves to splash and sandcastles to build so thereâs not a day to be wasted.
âchoi san!â you holler again, thundering up to his door. youâre about to yank it open when san opens it from the opposite side, excitement already plastered across his face as he starts to yell your name too.
the moment he appears, you hurtle into his chest for a hug that ends up knocking you both off-balance. he stumbles backwards with you in his arms and rebounds off the edge of his bed, sending you both sprawling onto the floor in a fit of laughter. youâve become familiar with the way his bedroom floor feels from these exact moments, and youâve also become familiar with the way sanâs arms feel around you from being wrapped up in his tight cuddles. you may love the sea, but you love being with san just a little more.
âdo you have your bucket?â you ask, still tangled together on the floor in a mess of limbs and untamed hair.
san props himself up on an elbow and reaches behind you to reveal a large, plastic bucket. itâs purple with a white handle and it matches yours; blue with a white handle and still lying on its side from when you dropped it in favour of hugging san.
you sweep up your bucket with a cheeky grin, ârace you to the beach!â using sanâs chest as leverage to stand up, then pushing him onto his back again by his shoulders for good measure, you take off for the door.
âthatâs cheating!â he yells after you.
you sprint with glee back through the living room, barely managing to brake in time to avoid running headfirst into his mother. you greet and farewell her in a single breath before youâre off again, forgoing your sandals when you hear the thundering of sanâs footsteps and a warbled bye mum! bye dad! catching up behind you.
the pavement is hot under the bare soles of your feet but soon enough you leap off the sidewalk, bucket clattering in your hand, and the ground turns cool and soft as you run across the sinking sand. san jumps after you with a battlecry of his own and you scream when you feel him right on your tail. he catches up as you near the waves and with a final burst of energy, he grabs your hand and tugs you along with him.
your grip on your bucket is lost once more when you yelp and focus on keeping up insteadâ sanâs only got an inch on you now but why is he so much faster than you? the wet sand starts to grow colder, salty water splashing everywhere the further you sprint. neither of you slow downâ not that you could with san dragging you along right into the thick of the crashing waves as he whoops.
you dread the day san will actually be tall enough to pick you up and toss you into the water, but for now, you give him the satisfaction of pretending. you wait for him to bend down a little, then you kick the water right into his face. he splutters indignantly and blinks the sting away until he can see the wide smirk on your face. his tongue pokes his cheek as he gives you a scandalised smile, before he cocks his head and sniggers, âyour turn.â
you take that as your cue to run. san dips his bucket into the water, scooping it up full to the brim, then starts chasing you with faux anger that makes you shriek in delight. you yell breathless apologies over your shoulder in between giggles but they all fall upon deaf ears as he continues streaking after you, bucket held high like a madman with an axe.
you end up slowing down because itâs hard to run through water, and youâre met with the icy downpour of water over your head. san laughs triumphantly when you look at him with the ferocity of a soaked kitten. you eye his bucket and weigh up the odds of snatching it out of his hands versus dunking him headfirst underwater through sheer force. realistically, you have no chances of doing either. plus, san knows you too well.
âuse your own bucket, you loser,â he banters as he hides his. and yet, he walks back to retrieve your bucket for you before itâs swept out by the waves.
���are you cold?â san asks whilst passing it to you.
thereâs vigour and liveliness thrumming through your every vein. âno,â you answer, ââm not cold.â never with you.
he nods, âlet me know if you do get cold, okay? iâll grab you a jacket or something.â
âmy house is literally next to yours. i can get one if i need to,â you chuckle.
âi know, but itâs the principle of it. just shut up and let me have my chivalrous moment.â san sits with the characteristic huffiness of a teenager who thinks heâs all grown up now that heâs in high school. but itâs not very convincing when he immediately starts to shovel sand into his bucket with the enthusiasm of a puppy.
âokay, thank you, sannie. iâll let you know if i so much as shiver,â you dotingly appease him.
he nods diligently, then pats the sand next to him for you to sit down too. you join him in filling up the buckets with sand so that you two can make your thirty second attempt to build a five-tiered sandcastle pyramid. so far, youâve only ever gotten to the third layer before it starts to crumble apart.
âwhatâs wrong?â you ask when san stops packing the sand into his bucket.
you realise heâs distracted by something in the distance and you follow his line of sight to find a lone surfer riding a wave in the horizon. san watches as the manâs body becomes an extension of the oceanâ a dancing duet with the rolling waves as he stands steadily on his board with powerful elegance. when the board glides towards the shore, the man spreads his arms like an eagleâs wings and lets himself fall backwards into the sway of the water.
san is suddenly filled with yearning to learn of the seaâs choreography. he declares, âi want to become a surfer.â
âwhat happened to becoming a dancer?â you raise an eyebrow. because if thereâs one thing that san loves just as much as the sea, then itâs dancing.
âbecoming a dancer is still my dream. i meant surfing as an interest,â he breathes out. âjust look at him. he looks soâŚfree.â
you can see it in the way sanâs eyes follow the surferâs movements and sparkle with wonderâ the moment he falls utterly and hopelessly in love. âthen try it,â you encourage, âwhatâs stopping you?â
san tears his gaze away from the ocean to look at you instead. the same, loving gaze stays on his face. ânothing,â he proclaims with a growing smile. âabsolutely nothing.â
san has all the summers in the world to surf. and youâll be there with him for every single one.
you watch as san fixes his surfboard to the top of his black jeepâ the last of his luggage to be loaded.
âi donât get why youâre taking that with you. thereâs probably nowhere to even surf in seoul.â you know you sound like a snobby six-year-old and not the eighteen-year-old that you are, but you donât really care right now. not when san is leaving and you wonât be able to attend college together like you thought you would be.
tugging on the straps once more to check that theyâre secure, he chuckles, âdoesnât hurt to take it just in case.â when he sees the forlorn look on your face he adds, âiâll be back every summer, yeah?â
âit wonât be the same. who am i going to hang out with every day?â you grumble.
san laughs endearingly, âitâs only until i graduate.â
âor you find a job or a girlfriend and then youâll stay in seoul forever.â you cross your arms defiantly as san steps closer and reaches out to ruffle your hair. where you had stopped growing at fifteen, san is still growing and he now towers almost half a head over you.
âjust four yearsâno job, no girlfriendâand then iâll be back. i promise.â he opens his arms a little, ânow, do i get my goodbye hug or do i need to tickle it out of you instead?â
you huff before uncrossing your arms and sinking into his warm embrace. he folds you into his chest as your arms wrap around his waist. closing your eyes, you memorise the feeling of his back muscles flexing under your hands while he gently rocks you side to side. you soak in his body heat that swaddles your entire being in safety and home. you breathe him in one last time when you bury your face in the crook of his neck, nuzzling the steady pulse that beats there.
âiâll miss you,â you whisper, because you donât trust your voice not to crack if you speak any louder.
san presses a soft kiss against your hairline and admits, âiâll miss you more.â
you bite back the urge to respond with âthen stayâ, cherishing the moment for a little longer instead, before you step away so that he can say his goodbyes to his family. he hugs them one by one; his father, his sister, haneul, and lastly, his mother. sheâs discreetly wiping at her tears and you have to look away so that you donât start crying too. because if you start crying, everything will become blurry, and you canât afford that when this is the last time youâll see san until next summer.
you all gather around the driverâs window thatâs rolled down to the very bottom when san is finally seated. seeing him buckle his seatbelt ready to leave overwhelms you with a sense of finality and your eyes well up before you can blink the hotness away. san stretches a hand out to thumb away your tears and makes a sad noise, âdonât cry, please? we can call whenever you want.â
you sniffle, âcall me when you arrive?â
he nods with that dimpled smile you are already starting to miss. and then just like that, your best friend is gone. you stand outside his house for a stretch of time, even after the outline of his jeep has long since disappeared into the distance. it may be the last week of summer, but it feels like itâs the middle of winter today.
sanâs eyes flick upwards to look in the rearview mirror, even though he hasnât been able to see your reflection the last three times heâs looked. he had tried to appear as collected as he could to avoid making it any harder for you, but now he regrets not holding your hand a little longer; a little tighter. and if san tears up a little as he starts the four-hour drive up to seoul, then thatâs between him, the car, and the playlist you made just for him.
you absentmindedly tug on a crease in your bed sheets as you laze on your bed, phone on speaker so you donât have to hold it. âwhat was that?â you pull your device closer to your ear. âare you going somewhere?â
there it is againâ the beeping sound of a car in reverse. the warning signal stops as san answers vaguely, âhome.â
you jolt up into a sitting position, a growing sense of excitement making its way across your face as you dare to ask, âhome?â
âyeah, home,â san confirms, and you can hear the smile in his voice this time. âi told you iâd see you soon, didnât i?â
âi didnât think you meant in five literal minutes,â you almost trip over your own feet in your hurry to slip some shoes on. âoh my god, is that why you said you couldnât facetime me?â
you can hear his answer this timeâ not the scratchy voice that comes from your speaker, noâ the smooth deepness of sanâs voice close by. and there he is. after almost a year of freezing days, absent dimples and longing calls, choi san is finally back in namhae for the summer.
in quick succession, you notice three things. one, san has returned from seoul with triple the number of surfboards that he left with, strapped to the top of his black jeep. two, said man is now almost a whole head taller than you as he watches you with a smirk and disconnects your call. and three, heâs not alone.
if you think that san is tall, then the two guys that hop out of the jeep after him are even taller. one of them runs a veiny hand through his dark brown locks, which fall back down to softly frame his face. the other turns in your direction after closing his door and you realise youâve seen him beforeâ both of them, actually.
on top of your spontaneous calls with san, you facetime him every friday afternoon after your own classes have finished. heâs usually in one of the universityâs dance studios because, as a dance major at kq university, the studio is basically his second home. san mentions his friends every now and then and theyâll appear behind him to say hello to you or youâll be able to hear them in the background of the call.
quite frankly, the crusty quality of sanâs front camera hardly does them justice because wow. theyâre hot. and tall. theyâre not letting you forget that fact when the three of them step away from the jeep and closer to where you and sanâs family are waiting to welcome them.
san greets his parents with a hug before he gestures to his friends one by one, âyunho, mingi. the friends i was telling you about.â
yunho and mingi thank sanâs parents for letting them stay the summer and apologise in advance for the inconvenience. but from the way theyâre immediately told that their extended stay is more than welcome and that hopefully the drive down from seoul wasnât too tiring, you know sanâs parents have already adopted the two well-mannered boys as their own sons.
âhey, pipsqueak,â san sidles up to your side whilst his parents fuss over his friends.
you look at him, appalled by the sudden nickname, and even more so as you swat his hand away when he playfully ruffles your hair to tease, âlooks like youâve been busy doing everything but growing.â
âon second thoughts, maybe i donât really miss you.â
san laughs, the tinkle of the sound like the crisp smell of the ocean during sunrise. he pulls you into him and thatâs all it takes for you to melt in his embrace. despite your earlier quip, youâve missed san terribly. it finally feels like namhae now that his familiar arms are around you again.
the rumble of sanâs chest is soothing as he says, âwell, i miss you. itâs good to be back home.â
you pull back a little to look up at him and god, heâs gotten so much taller. âitâs good to have you back home, choi san.â
the sound of approaching footsteps breaks your hug apart and you give the two boys a friendly smile as san roughly introduces your names, âbut you all already know that, considering you guys basically see each other every week.â
âon top of the fact that san doesnât shut up about you,â mingi jokes.
san punches him in the arm and mingi amends himself with a laugh, ânamhae! he doesnât shut up about namhae!â
yunho snorts, then offers you a small hug as he properly introduces himself. he leaves enough space between your bodies for the holy spirit to boogie when his arms encircle you, and you honestly find his courtesy extremely endearing.
âare you two also dance majors?â you ask.
âyeah, so we share some classes together,â yunho explains. âmingi and san are in the department of dance performance though, whereas iâm in choreo, so they have all their classes together and i only share the core ones with them.â
âgood thing, too,â mingi joins the conversation and rests an arm around the otherâs shoulder. âiâve known him since high school and i was honestly starting to get a little sick of his face.â
he earns himself a jab to the side and he keels over with a dramatic groan. both san and yunho ignore him in favour of stepping back towards the jeep to unload their surfboards. you eye the boards with curiosity, recognising the white deck with the yellow and blue tail to be sanâs. the design is simple, but san had used his own money to purchase it as his first transition board after the beginner-level mini malibu his parents had gifted him, so itâs his baby.
âare these all yours?â you question as san rests the tail of his board on the ground.
he shakes his head with a flustered laugh, âthe guys brought theirs along too.â
mingi reaches for his board after yunho takes his and your jaw drops to the ground. âyou all surf? wait, so you can surf in seoul?!â
âno, you were right. you canât,â san chortles in embarrassment. âbut there are a couple of indoor surfing places that we can go to.â
mingi hikes his surfboard against his hip, âdoesnât beat the real thing, though.â
ânope, which is exactly why weâre crashing. sorry, by the wayâwe probably shouldâve asked you whether we could come,â yunho scratches the back of his neck.
you frown, âof course you can. itâs not like iâm the town head of namhae or anything.â
âbut they know we spend our summers together,â san lightly bumps you with the side of his hip.
âoh,â you can feel heat creeping across your cheeks, so you force it away by jumping on the opportunity to tease, âyou know what? mingi was right. you donât shut up about me, do you.â
mingi hollers at the ammunition you have just given him for future use and even yunho slaps his hand over his mouth to hide his smile. itâs amusing to see san flustering so easily now that thereâs a new dynamic of friendship between you and the other two boys, and san resorts to giving both of his friendsâ asses a good-natured kick in the direction of the beach.
as they lumber off with their boards sniggering, san effortlessly hoists his own board up and sideways and beckons, âletâs go.â
âyou know i canât surf, san.â
he flicks your nose fondly with his free hand, ânot to surf, silly. letâs go get our buckets.â
your eyes widen and you stand on your tiptoes with excitement, âbuckets?â
âof course,â san waggles his eyebrows up and down with his dual dimples. âweâve got some serious sandcastle-building to show off.â
half an hour later, all three surfboards are tossed to one side in the wet sand as you share the buckets for an intense showdown between the ânamhae ninjasâ and the âhighschool homiesâ. san had shot down your suggestion to alliterate your team name with the word âneighboursâ, claiming it was an insult to the bestfriendshipness between you two, but hadnât been able to come up with a much better alternative himself.
san holds his breath as you upturn another moulded bucket of sand onto the third tier of your sandcastle pyramid. with little surprise, the foundation starts to crumble and triggers a chain reaction that topples it all over. as always, some things just donât change, even over time.
mingi laughs at your sandy ruins with an awful lot of audacity for someone who had watched yunho build most of their sandcastle, only to then add a little stick at the very top as a finishing touch. he grabs his phone from where he had left it on the safety of his discarded towel and holds up the front camera to take a photo of you all.
where there used to be two sandcastles between two friends, there are now two sandcastles between four. mingi snaps the photo, eternalising the moment. some things do change over time, and sometimes, change is just the beginning of a new chapter.
âwhich one do you think looks better?â
your mother takes a step back to scrutinise yunhoâs pick. âthis one,â she points, âthe other colour palette clashes too much.â
san nods solemnly in agreement and mingi squints at his own choice from beside. with the seriousness of their expressions, one would think that theyâre discussing investment properties. in reality, youâre watching your trio of friends and your mother earnestly matching and colour-coordinating the floral prints of your fatherâs flowy farming pants to their button-up shirts.
noticing the dubious frown on mingiâs face, your mother nonchalantly skims her fingertips over the pants heâs holding. âthis is one of my favourites because it has little leaves on it,â she remarks, before dropping her voice to a whisper so that only mingi can hear her next words. âit matches your shirt. i think youâll look the best in it.â
he immediately perks up and you canât help but compare him to a sunflower that thrives the most under a loving hand. itâs incredibly cute and you can also tell that your mother feels the same, if not obvious from the way she has been giving him extra hugs and compliments all summer.
you rejoin the boys after you have all changed into your pants. it takes a lot of self control not to laugh when you see how seriously they are taking their get-up; rubber boots hiked up to their knees over their floral pants, and their straw hats secured snugly with the chin straps. even as disinterested as your father originally was when the trio had first arrived at the beginning of summer, he now lingers behind the sliding glass doors to watch you and san attempt to teach the tall boys how to plant rice seedlings in the paddy field.
yunho grabs a small, prepared bed of seedlings and turns to look at you cheekily. âwant to be a rice friend and show me how to plant these?â
you level him with a stare that makes him chuckle and apologise, âsorry, i wonât say that a-grain.â
he looks awfully pleased with himself, so you turn on your heels in pretence to ditch him for mingi instead. you let out an involuntary yelp when yunho prevents your escape by quite literally manhandling you back next to him. he dares to up his charm by using his wide, sparkling eyes on you as he thrusts the seedlings into your hands, like a child waiting for you to open a bag of snacksâ how could anybody say no?
you talk him through your demonstration, separating a small cluster of seedlings from the seedbed before transplanting it into the field. once he seems confident, you let him take over. itâs mesmerising to watch yunhoâs hands as he deftly carries out each stepâ the way his long and slender fingers move with coordination and grace. despite it being his first time, he works skillfully like someone with years of experience. youâve come to realise that yunhoâs good at doing things that involve physicality, like dancing, surfing, and now farming.
âhow did you start surfing?â you wonder.
yunho stills momentarily, before he separates another cluster of seedlings and runs his fingers through its green shoots. âi actually started surfing because mingi wanted to try,â his voice is fond. âitâs been four or five years now.â
âthatâs really sweet of you.â
he ducks his head bashfully, then asks, âwhat about you? how come you donât surf?â
âsan roped me into his first few lessons, but i never got the hang of it so i stopped,â you reveal. âi prefer watching, anyway.â
âmaybe you just didnât have a good teacher. i could teach you one day?â
you donât doubt that he would make a good teacher, but you would most definitely be a terrible student. the shirt and board shorts that leave very little to imagination when heâs soaked, and the water that drips from the ends of his hair down his jawline and neck are distracting enough as they are from a distance.
you chuckle, âyouâre going to need a lot longer than just a few days to turn me into a surfer. you guys leave this weekend, donât you?â
âthatâs true,â he hums. âbut thereâs always next summerâŚif youâd like that?â
at his words, you suddenly donât know where to look. the rosiness that starts to colour your cheeks makes a small part of you hope that there is an underlying hint of flirting in his question. before you can answer though, youâre interrupted by san peering over your shoulder to look at yunhoâs progress. âof course youâre good at this too.â
you crane your neck to look around san, where you find mingi squatting and planting seedlings in the rows that are within armâs reach.
âhowâs he going?â
san glances back, âheâs, uhâwell. heâs trying.â
âmy hardest!â mingi yells across the field.
with a laugh, you stand up and slowly make your way towards him, leaving san and yunho to lay down the rules to see who can plant the most seedlings in the next half an hour. because apparently, everything needs to be a competition between them.
the seedlings that mingi has planted donât look that bad, honestly. theyâre a little lopsided, the spacing and height of each seedling a little inconsistent, but for his first time it really isnât all too bad. you tell him such and squat down beside him. âhere, let me show you.â
you gently remove one of the seedlings from the watery mud whilst talking, âthey may just be plants, but theyâre like people, too. if you treat them with love and care, you can see the same reflected in them.â you neaten the sides of the hole as you add, âyou know, itâs kind of like how yunho loves and cares for you.â
having spent all summer with the pair, you notice all the times yunho subtly perks his head up to locate where the other boy is. all the times yunho brings him into conversation or back into the little huddle youâre all standing in. all the times yunho will wait for mingi to say what he wants or thinks before saying the same thing himself.
your fingers ease the seedling into the hole, then you fill it with soil and pat it down firmly to give the shoot the support it needs. âyunho told me he started surfing because you wanted to.â
at your words, mingi nods with a wistful smile; completely different from his characteristic cheerfulness. even the brightest of stars have moments where their twinkle dulls. âi was going through a rough time at home and i wanted something to distract myselfâŚgive myself a reason to get out of the house, even if just for a few hours,â he reveals. âsometimes, yunho and i skipped our morning classes and he would take me on long trips to the beach just so that we could surf.â
âiâm glad you had him to help you through that.â
âyeah, heâs helped me a lot,â mingi agrees. âhe still does. sannie too.â as he talks, mingi attempts to plant another seedling the way you have shown him, and this time, it stands tall and proud amongst the other shoots beside the one you have planted.
âhow are things at home now?â you ask.
he shrugs aloofly, an indirect answer that tells you everything you need to know. his gaze settles on the other half of your little summer quartet, who are now in heated debate over the winner of the planting competition. âboth of them knew that i didnât want to go back to my hometown over summer. thatâs why san asked if we wanted to come here with him. thanks for letting us stay this summer, y/n. itâs meant a lot to me.â
your heart breaks a little at his words and you nudge him playfully, âstop treating me like iâm the head of namhae. thereâll always be a place here for the both of you.â
he lets out a laugh, a glimpse of his usual self. âwe just know how much summers mean to you and san.â
âand meanings can always change for the better,â you counter with a smile.
mingi feels warm from the very inside. for a moment, only you and him exist in this bubble of comfort as you simply gaze at each other. and it doesnât go unnoticed. yunho stretches his back with a satisfied exhale at sanâs admittance of defeat before glancing at the two of you looking nice and cosy in the exact same corner of the paddy field you were working on half an hour ago.
âhave you two just been sitting there this whole time?â yunho narrows his eyes as his words draw sanâs attention.
âno?â you flimsily say, at the same time mingi confidently declares, âyes.â
the man beside you is back to his usual antics as he giddily fans the fire by gloating, âwhat are you going to do about it?â
yunho and san glance at each other and you start rising to your feet at the foreboding of danger. they nod.
thatâs all the warning you get before they lunge in your direction. as dorky and harmless as the two of them look in their styled outfit of farming pants and straw hats, they are anything but that as yunho and san take frighteningly large steps through the rice paddy with their long legs. and just as your luck would have it, yunho is the one who is closest to you out of the two predators. you hardly think that itâs a fair chase between the tallest and the shortest.
âyun, we can talk this out like adults,â you try to distract him.
whilst youâre struggling for your life to pull your boots out of the squelching mud as fast as you can, yunho easily moves towards you with a devilish grin. you see his outstretched hands, covered in mud, and you decide right there and then that youâre not above begging.
âdonât come any closer! please, iâm sorry! iâmââ your pleads are cut off when he grabs you by the waist and hauls you over his shoulder.
for a brief second, you almost slip right over him face-first into the mud from the momentum and your life flashes before your eyes. but then yunhoâs arms flex as he steadily grips your thighs and readjusts your weight, and you resign your fate to his shoulder and his prettyâ but grubbyâ hands.
you twist your head to the side when a husky screech alerts you to victim number two and you find mingi at the mercy of sanâs headlock. he rapidly taps the latterâs forearm, yelling mercy as you all burst out into laughter. very soon, the field turns into a playground of childish liveliness as all intentions of farming are tossed to the wind.
mingi was right in saying that summers mean a lot to you and san. but as you all chase and run away from one another around the muddy field, smearing loving handprints of dirt over each otherâs faces and clothes, sounds of happiness loud enough that your parents can hear it from back inside the house, summer takes on a new meaning in the shape of you four.
in hindsight, it makes a lot of sense now why sanâs parents had knocked on your door earlier this morning, entrusting you with the spare key to their house and waving goodbye as they drove away in their rented campervan. they had let you know that they would be going on a road trip along the coast this summer so that san and his friends could have the house to themselves.
you hadnât thought much of itâ just excitedly counted down the hours until the reunion of your little quartet. yunho had been texting you updates as he, san and mingi finally made the four-hour trip down to namhae now that they were on summer vacation. one of the last texts you had received had been a picture of mingi in the backseat, head lolling and mouth open in deep slumber, with the caption, âgonna need to wake sleeping beauty up soon XD weâll be there in about twentyâ.
this time, you had opted to wait for their arrival by sitting on the embankment outside your houses. your legs had dangled off the ledge as you looked out towards the beach, and at the telltale noise of their arrival, you had excitedly hopped up to your feet, only to be met with a sight that had your steps halting in fluster. and oh, this is why sanâs parents had decided to yield the house. because this time, not only have the number of surfboards doubled, but so have the number of cars and boys that are suddenly in front of you.
as san turns off the ignition to his jeep, youâre dazedly swept up into a sandwich of hugs between yunho and mingi as they greet you eagerly. itâs good to see them again in the flesh instead of their measly five-inch-tall selves over facetime, and youâd be a little overwhelmed by their height on either side of youâ having forgotten just how tall they really areâ if your attention isnât distracted by the opening doors of the banged-up ute behind sanâs jeep.
either seoul has water thatâs doped with something, or birds of a feather flock together, because each of the three boys that step out are equally as good-looking. youâd be lying if your heart didnât skip a beat at the sight of them. youâre a simple girl with hormones weak for eye candy, after all.
yunho slings an arm around you and walks you a little closer as the new faces turn to look at you with friendly smiles. âthis is y/n,â yunho introduces. âand these are our friends, jongho and yeosang.â
you notice that he skips over one of the boys, who starts to open his mouth in complaint, but then yunho continues on, âand this short one is hongjoong. we keep him as our mascot.â
hongjoong gives the taller his middle finger with practised ease and counters, âand we keep you as our tall circus freak.â
the way everyone snickers, yunho and hongjoong included, tells you that this is just about as average an interaction can be. after the boys properly greet themselves and pleasantries are exchanged with you, they decide to unload all their luggage so that they can rest for the afternoon. you walk over to the open boot of the black jeep, reaching for the last duffel and hoisting it into your hands.
before you can so much as take two steps, thereâs a hand carefully taking the bag from yours. when you tilt your head up, itâs sanâs kind eyes that are gazing back at you. âhere, let me do it,â he casually tells you and then he walks towards the open doors of his house.
left with the outline of his back, you have a clear view of his shoulders flexing under his white shirt and you wonder when he started to fill out his clothes with muscle. you become conscious of the way youâre subtly ogling at your best friend, so you shake your head and walk over to the back of the ute instead where there are still a few bags left in the open bed.
thereâs a small duffel that looks relatively light. as you drag it closer, you quickly realise itâs heavier than it looks. âwhat the hell is in this? weights?â you mutter to yourself.
thereâs a giggle beside you, âsorry, thatâs probably yeosangâs bag. he brings his supplements with him everywhere.â
itâs jongho this time, with his gummy smile and crescent eyes, who takes the bag handles out of your hands. he extends a brown paper bag out to you instead. âwe can trade. this is much lighter.â
he easily picks up the bag of supplements and then reaches for a second bag to sling over his shoulder. for the amount of adorableness he exudes from his smile and laugh, the strength that he seems to have is on the complete opposite end of the spectrum. as he walks away, thereâs the crunch of approaching footsteps and you see that itâs the short boy, hongjoong. heâs only short relative to his friends, because when he comes to stand beside you heâs still easily taller than you.
âmaybe you could help me hold this, too.â heâs holding his closed fist out, making it impossible to discern whatâs in his hands.
âwhat is it?â you ask as you open your hand, palm upturned for him to drop whatever he is holding into yours.
except he simply uncurls his fingers and intertwines them with yours, shit-eating grin plastered all over his face. a laugh erupts from your throat, only growing in volume when yeosang appears and interrupts by stepping between the two of you, forcing his friend to let go of your hand.
as yeosang grabs the last suitcase and closes the tailgate, he deadpans to the other, âsanâs going to chop your hand off when he sees,â then he slings his free arm around hongjoong and ushers the both of you back into the house.
âitâs okay, i wouldnât let san do that to you,â you reassure.
hongjoong smirks triumphantly at yeosang, only for you to wipe the expression off his face when you finish, âbecause thatâd be animal abuse.â
âitâs been five minutes and youâve already picked your side,â he laments dramatically, before nodding. âi see how you play. i like you.â
âitâs a shame i donât,â you quip back immediately.
âfuck, did i just get rejected?â
yeosang shoves his friend through the doorway, âstop digging yourself a deeper hole.â
you all laugh as you shut the front door behind you to stop the cold of the air conditioner that san has turned on from escaping. youâre definitely starting to see the appeal hongjoongâs friends have in teasing him.
you take the bag of snacks still in your hand to the kitchen and you set it on the counter where san is drinking a glass of water. heâs watching the rest of the boys play âscissors, paper, rockâ over room allocations now that all their luggage has been piled up in the living room. he raises an arm and you easily slot yourself into his side and slide an arm around his waist. relaxing into the touch of his hand slowly rubbing up and down your arm, you also watch as the boys grow increasingly rowdy with each emerging winner.
youâve had the fleeting thought before, but now that youâre seeing all the boys together, you realise just how attractive they all well and truly are. even san, youâre slowly starting to notice, does not lack in the face or body department.
âdo you guys have a rule where you have to be attractive to be friends or something?â you ask, only half-jokingly. even though you had directed the question at san, itâs not him who answers you.
âaww, stop. you think weâre attractive?â of course hongjoong would be the one to overhear.
immediately, the feistiness in you appears. âyeah, and iâm wondering why they made an exception for you.â
he takes on the jest easily, âgod, youâre obsessed with me.â
âyouâre right, iâm a little crazy for dogs,â you shoot back, and you can feel the shake of sanâs chuckles from next to you.
âgood thing iâd bark for you, then.â
âwhat the fuck, guys?â mingi interrupts, âget a room.â
at that, san steps forward protectively and shoos his friends away, âhurry up and put your bags in the rooms so we can go surfing.â
yunho and yeosang take their bags towards the small guest room down the hall, whilst the remaining three head for sanâs room. you turn to san incredulously, âyouâre fitting four people in your room?â
he shakes his head, âof course not. iâm going to sleep in haneulâs room. sheâs on a trip with her friends for most of the summer.â
âshe can stay at mine when she comes back. until you guys have to go back to seoul,â you suggest.
âoh, thatâs right. your parents are in yeosu now, arenât they?â
you nod. you had told san a couple of weeks ago that your parents had moved back to your grandparentâs house for the meantime. theyâre not sure how long they will be staying in your hometown for, but considering the deteriorating health of your grandparents and the fact that you are independent enough to take care of yourself, itâll likely be for a while.
san doesnât tell you, but thatâs part of the reason why he has brought so many of his friends back this summer. he knows that youâre silently struggling to adjustâ even if his parents take care of you like their own daughterâ so he hopes that he and his friends can fill in some of the silence, even if just for the summer. he wishes it didnât just have to be summer.
âdo you need to change into something else before we go?â he asks you.
you look down at the t-shirt and shorts that youâre wearing. you donât mind getting them wet, but you canât say the same about your underclothes. âyeah, iâll quickly go and change first.â
he nods and watches as you head towards the door to toe on your sandals. when you pull the door open, he gently calls after you, âitâs good to see you again, pipsqueak. iâve missed you.â
you smile, âiâve missed you more.â
even after the door closes behind you, sanâs smile stays on his face. âiâve missed you the most.â
no matter how many times you experience the thrill of getting tossed into the ocean, you still cannot fathom the fact that the once short, skinny boy who used to pretend to pick you up is now tall and strong enough to actually do it.
âyou cheater!â you screech when you feel sanâs arms snake around your waist from behind, lifting you up off your feet. âyou said youâd give me a ten-second head start!â
his gleeful laugh rings in your ears as he ignores your flailing limbs and teases, âi did! your little legs are just too slow.â
you start to feel the coolness of waves splashing your ankles and toes the further san carries you out away from shore and your grip on his forearm tightens in anticipation. with a slight swing, he lets go of your waist and tosses you into the water. the next thing you know when you regain your balance and wipe the water from your face is the sound of sanâs yelp as he disappears underwater. jongho grins from above, having leapt onto the olderâs back, who in turn has crumpled under the unsuspecting weight.
san emerges with a hulk-like roar absolutely soaked to the bone, his black t-shirt clinging to his torso. the clear outlines of his chest and broad shoulders set off an unfamiliar skip in your heart yet again, and san lifting the hem of his shirt to wipe his faceâ revealing his abs in all of their wonderâ does the complete opposite of calming you down.
you're fucked. there's no way you're attracted to san like that. in the form of petty revenge, said man brings his hands down to slap the surface of the water, splashing it right in your face and jonghoâs andâŚyeah, that flutter of butterflies is gone.
san is caught right in the middle of the crossfire as you and jongho splash him, drowning his figure in torrential rain. the sounds of his choked laughter draw the attention of everyone else too, who have no idea why san is the target but are more than willing to join in. but with the plethora of water being splashed and the chaos of hands coming from every possible direction, the three of you end up drowning under the attacks.
hongjoong quickly loses motivation when his arms grow tired from doggy-paddling the water and yunho and yeosangâs attempts also slow down. they snicker at the aftermathâ your trio absolutely drenchedâ and then rapidly skitter away before any of you decide to retaliate in vengeance.
at their cowardice, san bites the bait and goes hollering after them, leaving you with the youngest of your group of friends. jongho beckons towards the shore with his head and youâre momentarily distracted by his wet bangs falling over his forehead and eyebrows.
âup for more surfing?â he grins at you. and if thereâs one thing youâve learnt over the summer, itâs that you would kill for jongho if he asked you with his gummy smile.
jongho is a surprisingly good surfer. as the only one in the group who grew up in seoul with limited exposure to the beach, you can hardly tell that heâs a relative beginner in comparison to the rest of the boys unless you were a surfer yourself.
once they had become their close-knit group and they realised that most of them had a shared love for surfing, they had colloquially formed their own little surferâs club, knighting jongho as their honorary member. he learnt to surf in indoor centres, during the occasional beach road trips they would make and through the experienced guidance of his friends.
of all six surfboards they had brought to namhae, jonghoâs softboard is the one that is the most ideal for you to learn with. true to his words, yunho had attempted to teach you how to surf but on his own boardâ a shortboard great for experienced surfers to catch steep and aggressive waves, but terribly hard for a beginner to control. jongho had offered his board and so under his and yunhoâs careful hands, you had spent your summer practising on the beach before slowly transitioning into the water.
which is where you find yourself now, on your stomach as you slowly paddle out. jongho stands close by and waist-deep in the shallow waters of the spot that he has led you to where the waves are few and calm. just a couple of metres away, yeosang idly straddles his longboard as he watches in support.
âyou remember how to push through the waves?â jongho checks and you nod, gripping the rails of the surfboard and straightening your arms to lift your torso upwards.
âyeah, hang on,â he says, moving closer. jongho rests his hand gently on the small of your back to steady your body and you have to focus on what heâs telling you instead of the feeling of his warm hand. he taps the sides of the board a few inches in front of where your grip currently is.
âhold it here, otherwise your centre of gravity is too far back,â he explains as you shift your hands forward. âthe board might end up tipping backwards when you go through the wave.â
you retry the movement with the new positioning and jongho nods in satisfaction, removing his hand and stepping back again.
âthereâs a wave coming in we could try,â yeosang suggests.
the slight swell of a forming wave starts to appear in the horizon. it doesnât increase much in size the closer it gets, but as it reaches its peak height, the top breaks and turns into a whitewater wave. yeosang is out a little further and so he demonstrates how to push through first, lifting his torso above the break as his surfboard cuts through the wave.
âokay, ready? hold steady, steady,â jongho encourages, helping you time the movement, âand push up!â
you follow his call and straighten your arms to lift your upper body out of the waveâs trajectory, guiding the nose of your surfboard through at the same time that jongho dives under the wave. although your face still gets splashed with some water and your board trembles slightly in your grasp, you make it through the wave without tipping over.
âi did it!â you yell, shakily sliding yourself further up your board so that you can straddle it.
âyou did it!â the boys respond excitedly.
jongho jumps up and down beside your board, prompting yeosang to slide into the water to join your side. you laugh brightly at the sense of achievement and at the sight of the two boys bobbing around you in a merry-go-round of exuberance.
âjust a little more practice and youâll be taking on the monster swells in no time,â yeosang declares. you know heâs exaggerating, but it makes pride bloom in your chest regardless.
somebody calls out your names and you all turn to look. itâs san standing near the waters, gesturing behind him as he yells, âweâre going to walk to the mart to get some ice cream. do you guys want to come?â
âyes!â you shout back, âwait for me!â
ungraciously tumbling off your surfboard in a hurry so that you can pull it back to shore, the boys chuckle at your eagerness. jongho grabs his board from out of your grasp so that he can carry it instead and the boys all trail behind you as you bound past san towards the pile of your belongings on the sand. while you sift through the heap for your sandals, your other hand subconsciously peels your clinging shirt away from your body. you feel the presence of someone coming up behind you and assuming itâs san, you straighten your back with a phone in your hand.
âsan, you left your phââ you start, except itâs yeosang, who bends down to pick up his towel and drapes it around you. itâs warm from the hours itâs spent in the sun and you canât help the pleasant shiver that runs through your body. yeosang tugs it snugly over your shoulders and then takes the phone from your hand.
âhere,â he tosses it to its owner, who falls into step behind you.
san nods his head in thanks and rummages under a towel where your sandals have been hiding before placing your shoes by your feet. âthe groundâs pretty hot,â he says as he offers you his forearm to steady yourself with, patiently waiting for you to do up the buckles around your ankle.
âwait, i forgot my wallet,â you tell him once jongho and yeosang rejoin you after putting their surfboards away.
âdonât worry about it,â san reassures, âhongjoongâs buying.â
your ears perk up and he laughs because he knows exactly what youâre thinking. âyes, y/n. bleed him dry and order whatever you want."
"even a doubleâno, even a triple scoop?" you exclaim scandalously.
san's eyes drip adoration, "yes, even a triple scoop."
you run ahead with a cheer, blabbering jonghoâs ear off about how if you get three different flavours and he also gets three different flavours, then you guys get to share six flavours, before yeosang joins in with excited chatter about how you guys can make it nine flavours if he does the same. you catch up with the rest of your friends and somehow, like a devilish cult, you all start to chant, âbleed hongjoong dry! bleed hongjoong dry!â
the oldest jokes that he only offered to pay for yours, not everybodyâs, so mingi starts to tell you what he wants so that you can order in his stead, setting off a chain reaction as everyone else places their orders through you. they surround you, happy jostles and raucous snickers as you disappear in the middle of the group.
from behind, as san watches you grow closer and closer with his friends each summer, he canât help but feel like heâs going to burst from affection and pride. he knows it will be a while until your parents move back to namhae, as is the same for himself until he graduates. but between his group of sixâ which will hopefully become the full eight next summerâ and the group chat that you all made within hours of meeting each other, san is confident that youâll never feel alone.
âif only wooyoung was here, then weâd have someone to grill the meat properly,â yeosang muses as he watches jongho flip and examine the packaging of the beef. âheâs the best cook out of us.â
âtrust him to be a good cook, too,â you comment.
when you had first met yeosang, jongho and hongjoong, they had told you that there were two other friends who werenât able to make it to namhae with the rest of them this summer. one of them was wooyoung, who naturally became part of the group after attending the same dance club as yunho, mingi and san. wooyoung had then been paired up with jongho during an inter-department project between the department of film & multimedia and the department of drama, growing close to the younger and by extension, to hongjoong, a senior in jonghoâs drama society.
their other friend was seonghwa, they had told you; the oldest in their group and also in the year above like hongjoong. however, seonghwa attends a completely different university along with yeosang, the both of them undertaking a degree in education at seoul national university. they share some senior classes together, as yeosang had transferred from a law degree and had some of the credit prerequisites to jump ahead. and since yeosang is a close family friend of wooyoungâs, the three of them gradually became well-acquainted with each other.
itâs a running joke that you donât need to remember how everybody knows each otherâ you just need to know that wooyoung is the common factor between them all, the person who decided that all of his friends should be friends with each other. so not only is wooyoung a social butterfly, seemingly charming and witty with good looksâ should the boysâ track record stay trueâ but apparently heâs a good cook too. some people really just have it all.
âwhat else do we need?â jongho asks, haphazardly placing a few packets of the meat into the shopping cart heâs pushing.
âmingi said it would be good to make smores at the end of the night,â you answer.
last summer, during the final week that mingi, yunho and san were in namhae, you had all decided to have a barbeque feast and then spend the rest of the night huddled around a small campfire on the shores of the beach. it had been one of your favourite memories, simply basking in the peaceful buzz of summer and slowing your lives down just for one night to do nothing. you had suggested turning it into a tradition, and now that the final week of this summer has arrived, youâre all at one of the few grocery stores in namhae to stock up on food, snacks and drinks for the night.
âletâs see if they have marshmallows, then,â jongho makes a move to walk away.
hongjoong suddenly interrupts the conversation, appearing with an empty trolley in front of him. âget in,â he tells you.
yeosang helpfully points out, âthat sounds like something a man with a tinted white van would say,â at the same time you question, âare we even allowed to do that?â
he beams, âi like to think that until somebody tells us weâre not allowed to do something, we are allowed to do it.â
âi can think of fifteen different reasons right now why thatâs terrible life advice.â
the man simply nudges your side with the end of his trolley and you half-heartedly frown, âiâm really hoping this seonghwa friend is more responsible than you are, seeing as heâs older.â
âi hate to break it to you, but seonghwaâs worse,â jongho grimaces. âmaturity ages backwards in this group, unfortunately.â
at jonghoâs words, you turn to look for yunho, hoping that as the next oldest down the line he can talk some sense into hongjoong. only youâre met with the sight of the overgrown man pushing his own shopping cart with a very cramped but happy mingi sitting inside.
you sense defeat when hongjoong nudges you once more. âi canât believe iâm doing this,â you mutter to yourself as he holds it steady for you to climb into. after all, you think, whatâs life without breaking a few rules?
except nothing prepares you for the absolute madness that unfolds the moment your bottom touches the cold, metal gridding of the trolley. hongjoong quite literally revs the handlebar with engine sound effects, before charging through the aisle at full speed in an apparent race against yunho and his passenger princess. you hold on to for dear life, thinking that this will be over once you reach the end of the aisle. but both racers show no signs of stopping, instead drifting with sharp cornering into the next aisle as you screech. half of you is terrified, but the other half of you is starting to seek the thrill.
âfaster, joong! faster!â you goad when you can see san standing at the end of the frozen section, waving an imaginary chequered flag.
both carts rattle past him in a close match, and as opposed as you were to the idea at first, you argue passionately against the honorary referee and the rival team over who won first place. even jongho and yeosang pick a side and claim that their eyesâ from three aisles overâ are as trustworthy as VAR playback.
itâs no surprise when the ruckus youâre all making gets a store manager sent your way. but by some saving grace, most likely the begrudging understanding that everyone has done this exact thing at one point or another growing up, the store does not kick you out. they let you finish shopping for the supplies you need, but not without the glares of the retail workers following you and your friends regardless of which aisle you try to duck and disappear behind.
with hushed giggles and not-so-subtle elbows in each otherâs sides, your group hurriedly pays and places the multitude of plastic bags back into the trolley. san and jongho take one of the trolleys each and you all walk back to the cars to load the shopping. you would think that a scolding would deter any further misbehaviour, but when you all see the relatively empty parking lot, thereâs only shared smiles of deviousness and glints of mischief.
if anyone were to look at the parking lot outside the grocery store that tuesday morning, they would see a group of seven friends, clad in an eyesore disarray of sweatpants, shorts, pajama tops and slippers, pushing each other around in shopping carts like bumper cars with shrieks of joy, circling around the dusty jeep and banged-up ute that has become an enabler of their connection and happiness.
you may all be doing the very things that your older selves will look back on with exasperated smiles and disapproving head shakes in ten years. but in the moment, you are unafraid; uncaring of what others think, because you have your friends by your side. and this, you think to yourself, is the essence of youth and summer.
you wish you were older. because being older means that youâll have graduated, and being graduated means that you wonât have to fucking study for your fucking exams. you let out a groan and drop your head onto the table, making an audible thump when your forehead misses the thick textbooks and scattered notes, and hits the solid surface instead.
âhey, you need those brain cells,â someone gently chides. haneul stands at the doorway to your bedroom, watching your misery with a fond smile.
âcanât lose what i donât have,â you mumble back.
âtake a break,â she suggests. âdo you want me to get you something from the bakery?â
haneul laughs when your head immediately turns to look at her, your left cheek pressed against the table by the cheeky smile that adorns your face. she chuckles again, âgot it. iâll be back.â
you absent-mindedly listen as the lock of your front door clicks shut and then let out a deep sigh at the silence that follows. itâs been a few hours since you first sat down and started studying but it feels like youâve been reading the same sentence over and over again with no progress. pressing your forehead into the table again, you groan in frustration.
your ringtone goes off and your hand blindly fumbles around for your phone, sliding what youâre relatively sure is the answer button. âyeah?â you say into the receiver.
âsomeoneâs a little grumpy today,â a teasing voice sounds.
âhwa?â you sit up instantly, looking at your phone properly.
it is him, not only blessing you with the deep richness of his voice but also the visual of him in a black tank top as he looks amusedly at the facetime you have answered. âare you still studying?â he asks.
you deflate a little, reminded of why youâve been creating a crater in your table with your head for the past ten minutes. âmhm,â you hum affirmatively. âexcept nothingâs going into my brain anymore.â
âsounds like you need a break.â
âthatâs exactly what haneul said,â you grumble, although youâre not entirely sure why youâre so opposed to their suggestions to stop studying.
âbecause weâre right,â he quirks his eyebrow. âwhatâs haneul doing at yours, anyway?â
âtaking advantage of my netflix while i slave away to pass my exams. but sheâs forgiven since sheâs buying me snacks.â
âthen take a break until she gets back and you finish eating. itâll only be an hour, tops,â seonghwa convinces. âiâll even set an alarm to let us know when time is up and iâll keep you company when you study.â
you sag a little into your chair, shoulders relieving of their tension as you concede, which makes him smile sympathetically, âjust a few more weeks to go until summer and then youâll be free.â
âare you taking up summer school again?â you ask.
after san had added you and all the boys into a combined group chat, you had made friends with the two that you didnât get to meet. you discovered seonghwa hadnât been able to make the trip to namhae last year because he had chosen to take summer school instead. he had wanted to complete some of his degree requirements earlier in hopes of working part-time during his final year to gain practical experience. wooyoung, on the other hand, had had a portfolio due for his film class that required the majority of his summer if he wanted to complete it in time.
seonghwa grimaces at the memory, âno, not this time. it was a mistake, honestly. i burnt out so fast the first semester back that i didnât even end up applying for any jobs.â he points a stern finger at you and warns, âdonât ever think about doing summer school.â
âtrust me,â you laugh, âi have no intentions of ever doing that.â
you appreciate his advice regardless, because as immature as the other boys had made him out to be, seonghwa really does look out for all of you as the oldest of the group. and more often than not, you find yourself gravitating towards him when you need comfort or reassurance. âdoes that mean iâll finally get to meet you?â
seonghwa nods, âwoo as well.â
the screen of your phone suddenly splits to make room for an additional video as somebody joins the call. you hear his voice before his video even buffers. speak of the devil.
âoi! why are you all calling without me?â wooyoung complains.
contrary to the roll of your eyes, a smile makes its way across your face as you respond, âweâre literally calling from the group chat. no oneâs leaving you out of anything.â
and as if his appearance is some sort of talisman, more of the boys start to join the call one by one. even hongjoongâs profile picture appears, camera off and on mute, wanting to feel included even if heâs in the middle of class. yunho and mingi pop up from behind wooyoung, so youâre guessing theyâre busy practising in the studio. you wonder where san is.
someone asks you a question about how your exams are going, but youâre momentarily distracted by the buzzing notification of a text. âhang on,â you mumble, âlet me justâŚreply to this.â
itâs one of your classmates, johnny, asking whether youâre home right now. you had accidentally slept through one of the review lectures earlier in the week and he had offered to give you a copy of his notes. from his text message, it appears heâs close by and able to drop them off now. you reply an affirmative and then click back into the video call, asking, âsorry, what were you saying?â
the drone of shared chatter about exams and the upcoming break fills the silence of your bedroom, like the fluttering breeze of a pleasant spring day. if they were not already so closely correlated to the warm, golden rays and salty spray of the summer ocean, your friends would be springâ the season of fresh air, blooming flowers and thriving vitality.
âsomeone looks happier. who are you talking to?â haneul emerges in your bedroom having come back from the bakery, holding a pastry box.
you didnât even realise you were subconsciously smiling. âiâm facetiming the boys.â
she smirks, eyes glinting with mischief as she waggles her eyebrows suggestively and drags out her words, âi see. so who is it that you like? or is it all of them?â
âquit it!â you pretend to shove her. âwant to say hi?â you turn the screen of your phone in her direction and thereâs a chorus of obedient hi haneulâs as you turn up the volume.
she waves and peers at wooyoungâs video. âwhereâs the baby brat?â
from somewhere within the call, san yells out indignantly, âstop calling me that!â thereâs a slight rustle as he walks closer to take the phone out of wooyoungâs grasp and when you peer to have a look, you can see that heâs sweaty and red-faced from finishing up a routine.
âyou still respond to it, so,â haneul shrugs.
she disregards her brotherâs continued complaints to drop the box onto your table along with a neatly-stapled stack of handwritten notes. âi bumped into johnny outside and he said this was for you,â she explains as you take it gratefully.
at the mention of a boyâs name, wooyoung shoves his nose towards his front camera. he rapidly asks, âwhoâs johnny? is he haneulâs boyfriend or what? whyâs he giving you something?â
even hongjoong flicks a message into the group chat to ask, âwho tf is jonnyâ.
you hold up the paper to show the boys and laugh, âheâs my classmate, guys. and he gave me notes because i missed the lecture.â
wooyoung frowns at your answer, clearly dissatisfied as he complains, âwhy is he giving you notes. andâwhat the fuck? did he hand write them? what a pretentious prick.â
you ignore him in favour of opening the pastry box to see what else haneul brought back for you. âhow did you know i love these?â you exclaim.
she gives you that same, mischievous look from earlier and as she starts to exit your bedroom to leave you to your call and sweet treat, she vaguely answers, âhow do you think?â
from over your phone, the others start to ask what youâve got in the box, allowing a certain boy to easily slip unnoticed into the background. but it doesnât take a detective to work out howâ or perhaps you should say, whoâ told haneul about your recent cravings.
because if thereâs one person who knows you the best, one person who takes notice of even the littlest of things, then it would be him.
hongjoong lightly slaps your thigh in retaliation as your laughter jostles his head thatâs resting on your stomach, which only serves to make you laugh even harder. he lifts his head to grumble, âstop encouraging him, y/n. heâs going to think heâs actually funny or something.â
with a shaky exhale, you wipe a stray tear away, because you donât think youâve ever laughed this hard in your entire life. now that you see their whole group dynamic in action with the complete eight of them, itâs like watching a live sitcom.
wooyoung looks at him with a smug expressionâŚthen proceeds to yank the olderâs sock right off his foot before throwing it into oblivion. hongjoong jolts up and dives for him and they immediately tussle about on the floor of sanâs living room. amidst all of the commotion, san sneakily goes for seonghwaâs socks and youâre glad that you had peeled yours off the moment you had walked through the front door because suddenly everyoneâs socks are a target.
the successful harvests that are tossed away are immediately snatched up by mingi, who hurls them under the table, behind the couch and on top of the television. you think you can see one dangling off the lights too, but youâre not about to snitch. jongho joins the corner you have taken refuge in and yeosang follows soon after, content to stay far away from the havoc that has quickly turned into wrestling. unfortunately, wooyoung is unable to let the three of you watch the world burn peacefully. he yells at the boys, who choose this to be the time to actually listen to him for once, and youâre all left scrabbling in different directions when they dive for you three.
itâs only the first day of summer and the second hour of officially meeting the boys as their full group of eight, but you can already tell that the next few months are going to be filled with absolute chaos and mayhem. and so the summer that marks sanâs third visit back to namhae passes by quickly as you and the eight boys fall into an easy routine. hours turn into days, days turn into weeks, and weeks turn into months. summer revolves around each other and there is never a moment spent apart.
you join the boys at dawn every day, clad in only a pair of shorts, a tank top and a light cardigan to shoulder because thereâs still a slight nip of the early morning before the sun appears. you watch contentedly as they dance with the ocean on their surfboardsâ a duet of paddling out into the deeper waters and catching the breaks of the swells back towards shore.
the more you watch them surf, the more you start to realise just how much san has improved. you still recall the day san had fallen in love with the way the surfer used his own body and surfboard as an extension of the ocean, and you still have early memories of sanâs lanky limbs flailing as he lost his balance over and over again, trying to replicate the same gracefulness. now, san is not just a dancerâ he is the choreographer; the one who controls the ocean under his board.
as the early morning wears on, the serene crash of waves and intermittent squawk of the soaring seagulls are gradually interspersed with the boysâ rings of joy as they become more interested in pushing each other off their boards and splashing each other, rather than surfing itself. the strongest trio easily overpower everyone else and you shake your head fondly when the others donât learn their lesson regardless of how many times they are suplexed underwater.
when the sun starts to wake up, they join you on the sandy shores, surfboards placed in a rough row so that you can all share them like seats. you lean against whoever is sitting beside you and watch the sunrise until your stomachs start to growl for attention.
greasy takeaway is always the foolproof solution. you share hearty burgers that are too tall to bite into and salty fries that are slathered in dipping sauce, sprawled out on the cool floorboards at sanâs or yours, soaking in the refreshing coldness of the air conditioner on high without a care in the world for the electricity bill that is racking up.
afternoons are for the second round of the meal; bingsoo from the cafe, pastries from the nearby bakery or cheap ice cream from the mart. and after all the food, the best way to digest before you go out again at dusk to catch some of the waves is to take a nap.
the giant puppy pile of tangled limbs and human pillows is arguably your favourite part of the day. even if the ends of jonghoâs hair tickles your nose and your arm goes a little numb from the way san hugs it and your neck feels cramped from resting on seonghwaâs shoulder, you wouldnât have it any other way.
sometimes, when youâre all feeling rejuvenated, youâll clamber into their three cars or happily pack yourselves into two and drive down the coast to one of the other beaches. the drive there is music blasting and scratchy singing at the top of your lungs with the windows rolled down, your flyaway hairs caressing the cheeks of the boys beside you. itâs rest stops to fill up on drinks and dessertâ any excuse for more ice cream and a chance to make hongjoongâs wallet cry.
the trip back, on the other hand, is quiet, the designated drivers pressing softly on the pedals and turning with care so as not to jostle the sleeping passengers. youâre all exhausted and passed out against one another, faces pressed against a shoulder or the crown of someoneâs head. slow music plays lowly in the background as the streetlights start to turn on like a warm greeting to welcome your group home.
and just as yeosang had once said, wooyoung is a good cook. dinner time becomes a bonding activityâ as if every second of summer isnât already a bonding momentâ where you all experiment with different and increasingly complicated recipes. it usually ends up with him and seonghwa actually doing the cooking whilst everyone else eats the ingredients and tries not to accidentally stab someone with the knives, and dinner doesnât usually actually become dinner until eight or nine oâclock.
but it doesnât really matter when, half the time, the post-meal conversations turn into a slumber party after time slips away. if you retire early, youâll sometimes be joined by haneul in your bedroom, who has stayed in namhae this summer. sheâll spill her workplace tea and youâll gossip about your college peers late until the stars have long started to twinkle in the sky.
there are no scheduled bedtimes, no proper mealtimes, no time limits to complete things nor niggling guilt not to complete thingsâ there is no formal routine. but when spontaneity and carefreeness become the everyday occurrence, that becomes the routine.
and as with any sort of routine comes the familiarity. familiarity finds itself in the way san sing-songs wake up, sleepyhead whenever you accidentally sleep in, and instead of shying under the covers at the sight of him in your bedroom, you whine for five more minutes. familiarity finds itself in the way yunhoâs hands hover around the small of your back whenever youâre all walking to the mart for snacks and in the way wooyoung immediately reaches for the flavours he knows you like.
familiarity finds itself in the way you and hongjoong will bare puppy teeth at each other one moment then naturally use the other as a human pillow the next. itâs in the way jongho hides you when san tries to throw you into the water; the way mingi tucks your head into his shoulder when he spins you around in a hug; when seonghwa reminds you to reapply sunscreen whilst dotting the lotion along your cheeks and when yeosang quietly drapes you in his jackets after you get out of the water.
but the thing with familiarity, though, is that itâs easy for it to overshadow other things. rather than realising that there is a shift in dynamic or a change in heart, other growing feelings can be mistaken for familiarity instead. and you donât understand this until you least expect it.
your hands fumble to catch the bottle of sunscreen that yunho has thrown in your direction before it ends up landing on yeosangâs face. heâs taking a nap on the towel next to you, disputing against everyone elseâs remarks that he should take the opportunity to surf considering youâve all made the two-hour trip to dadaepo beach.
you adjust the small umbrella that he brought along so that it covers his upper body, then uncap the bottle and lather the sunscreen over your arms and legs. itâs when you get to your back that you realise you wonât be able to reach all of your skin. san or seonghwa are usually around to help if you decide to forgo a cropped shirt over your bikini top, but theyâre already running far along the shore and you canât be troubled to yell out for one of them.
youâre starting to wonder whether you can get away with not applying sunscreen on your back if you just make sure you lie on it the whole time when hongjoong spots your plight in the form of a blank stare and squeezed lotion in the palm of your hand.
âyour short arms canât reach your back, can they?â
you imitate his laughter with an exaggerated tone, âwho was it that needed my help yesterday putting sunscreen on his back?â
âmaybe i just didnât want you to feel too bad about yourself,â he shrugs and walks over to swipe the glob of sunscreen out of your hands. you roll your eyes, knowing fully well heâs incapable of taking care of you without pretending to cover it up with an insult.
âstop squirming,â he chides. the contrasting cold of the lotion and warmth of his hand sends a shiver down your spine and you try not to dwell on his gentle rubs for too long. heâs meticulous in making sure he doesnât miss a spot, but heâs also careful and deliberate with his touch around the knotted strings of your top so that you donât feel uncomfortable. hongjoong and the word âuncomfortableâ could never be in the same sentence though. but he doesnât need to know that.
âthere,â he pats your back twice like a mechanic would with the hood of a fucking car to signal that heâs finished his job and then callously walks away.
you decide to let him off the hook and settle down on your stomach to rest your eyes for a bit. yeosang knows what heâs doing, because the combined warmth of the sand beneath your towel and from the overhead rays makes you drowsy almost immediately.
youâre flicking your salt-crusted hair out of your face when a voice interrupts, âhi, iâm sorry to bother you.â
lifting your head up to look, youâre met with the sight of a girl around your age, timidly fiddling with the popsocket on her phone. you sit up and give her a polite smile, âthatâs okay. can i help you?â
âum, i was just hoping to ask if he has a girlfriend?â
the boys are all scattered along the length of the beach, save for yeosang next to you, so youâre not entirely sure who the girl is referring to until you follow her finger. sheâs pointing in the direction of hongjoong, whoâs joined some of the others along the shore.
âthe short one?â you clarify, smile fading a little as you shrug, âiâm not too sure, sorry.â
the girl shakes her head, âoh, no. i meant the boy on his left.â
choi san. you now fight to keep the smile on your face friendly when you reply, ânot that i know of.â
the girl thanks you excitedly, walking off back to her group of friends who immediately huddle around her to hear your answer. you look away.
you donât realise youâre staring at san until he turns in the distance and makes eye contact with you. his entire face lights up, eyes disappearing and shadowed dimples revealing themselves under the gleaming sun. wooyoung takes the opportunity whilst san is distracted to swing a handful of limp seaweed straight into sanâs face and a laugh escapes you before you can hold it in. your best friend looks more betrayed by your laughter than by wooyoungâs antics.
the younger turns to look at you with pride and when he sees that youâre laughing, he blows you an exaggerated kiss and sends it flying in your direction with a teasing flurry of his hand. yunho charges in from out of absolutely nowhere and pretends to tackle the kiss mid-air, throwing the imaginary show of affection into the sand where hongjoong immediately joins in and stomps on it with his foot, before sending you a flying kiss of his own instead.
chaos ensues and both hongjoong and yunho run for their lives as wooyoung chases them with his deadly seaweed whip. he quickly realises that the taller of the two will be impossible to catch, so he locks in on the easier target and hongjoong screeches in fear.
you canât help but shake your head adoringly as you continue to watch, eyes landing on san once more when the cat and mouse go tearing past him in a whirlwind of sand. san holds your gaze with a fond smile of his own and you have to remind yourself that itâs normal for the boys to have suitors.
youâre not dating san. youâre not dating hongjoong. youâre not dating any of the boys, and theyâre certainly not yours. so then, why does it feel like they are? but most of all, why does your heart feel equally bitter at the thought of someone asking about any of the boysâŚnot just your best friend?
the sight of the tube of aloe vera gel in the fridgeâ likely placed there by seonghwaâ is a welcome sight. you had diligently reapplied sunscreen to your body with the boysâ constant reminders to reapply but you had carelessly forgotten about your face. youâre paying the price of your mistake now and the red skin across the apples of your cheeks and forehead is tight with a constant, dull throb.
grabbing the tube, you walk into the bathroom where hongjoong is currently blow-drying his hair, having callen dibs on the shower after the beach trip.
âhey, lilâ tomato,â he jests before he gets a good look at your face. âwoah, that looks worse than it was an hour ago.â
you hum as you peer closer into the mirror, âthis is probably the worst sunburn iâve ever gotten before.â
hongjoong ruffles the back of his hair one last time under the dryer before unplugging it and setting it on the rack. he slips the tube of ointment out of your hands and then turns you by the shoulders to face him. thatâs how you find yourself between hongjoongâs front and the porcelain sink, the edge of the countertop digging slightly into your lower back as you watch him squeeze a generous amount of aloe vera onto the tip of his finger.
he murmurs, âhold still.â with a light touch, he tilts your chin up so that he can see the angry skin of your face. the stark contrast between the characteristic roughness of his edges and the tenderness with which he applies the soothing gel on your face right now has you itching to tease him.
âadmit it. you like taking care of me, donât you.â
he rolls his eyes, âand you like being taken care of, donât you. like when you needed your notes handwritten by johnny.â
ever since that one incident, the boys have never let you hear the end of it. they may not realise it themselves either, but really, theyâre just trying to keep low tabs on thisâŚclassmate. even if the way they go about it reflects the emotional maturity of somebody half their actual age.
âi admit itâs nice to be taken care of. what about you, huh?â you challenge, poking his side testingly. âyou like taking care of me, donât you?â
you giggle when he squirms and you try it again to elicit another response, until he suddenly grabs your hand by the wrist.
âand so what if i do?â his words come out easily, but unlike the usual cockiness and flirtatiousness that he jokes around with, his tone is low and serious.
you donât respond because you donât know what to respond; youâre suddenly walking in uncharted territoryâ both in regards to his feelings and your own.
when his fingertips brush the area of your cheeks just below your under-eyes, you canât help the instinctive flutter of your lashes. his eyes stare into yours and you swallow, noticing the way his gaze flickers down to follow the movement. thereâs hunger in his pupils and longing in your chest. you donât move away when he moves closer in.
your eyelids flutter closed once again, except this time in anticipation. his hands still cup your cheek and hold your wrist and when he brings his face down towards yours, you can feel the warmth of his body surrounding and intoxicating you. but as his nose starts to nudge the softness of your cheeks, hongjoong pulls away.
âsorry, iâthis was a mistake. i shouldnât be doing this,â he stutters. and just like that, the moment shatters.
âthâthatâs okay,â you awkwardly smile. âthis never happened.â
he nods without looking at you, âthis never happened.â
youâre glad your face is sunburnt because youâre certain your face would be glowing from the embarrassment and shame you are overwhelmed with. hongjoong turns around before you can say anything else and leaves the bathroom, closing the door behind him and leaving you alone.
quickly, you lock the door and then stand there stunned into a stupor. because hisâŚwhatever the fuck that was, has given you startling clarity that he is right. you shouldnât be doing this. you shouldnât be kissing him when you want san and your six other friends equally as much.
and most of all, it was foolish of you to assume that he actually wanted something more than friendship. if hongjoong, the most flirtatious of them all, doesnât have any romantic interest in youâ or at the very least enough to want to pursue something moreâ then what makes you think you have a chance with any of the boys? what makes you think that any of themâ much less all of themâ would want you in the same way that you have now realised you want them?
in a way, your heart feels more at ease now. knowing that your feelings for the boys will be unfruitful one way or another, itâs much easier to ignore the now obvious lurch in your heart whenever they pull you into an easy hug or tell you that you look pretty. itâs easier to repress the longing you have for them when they help you put on sunscreen or surround your house with mischief and laughter.
you canât tell whether hongjoong is actively avoiding you or whether he is conveniently busy with the other boys, but you suppose time apart right now is good for the both of you. after all, time is supposed to heal everything. and so even as the end of summer approaches and the much anticipated night of the barbeque and campfire tradition arrives, you keep your distance from hongjoong and he keeps his. simply two friends coexisting within the larger group of friends; nothing more, nothing less.
youâre all sitting on a patchwork of picnic blankets and beach towels spread around the small fire that san has constructed, now experienced from having made one three years in a row. haneul shares the towel with you on one side and yunho on your other.
dinner had been greasy meat grilled by wooyoungâs skilled hands paired with cheap alcohol that made you all wince when it went down. it had been finished off with skewered marshmallowsâ the most vital part of the night, as mingi had fervently reminded everyone.
someone had then suggested a round of âtruth or dareâ, which most definitely did not stop at one round. the flushed cheeks and tipsy slurs not only made the dares increasingly bizarre, but it made everyone daring enough to actually do them. as the night had continued on, the outlandish dares slowly trickled off and more of you picked to answer truth questions. with the mellowing ambience of the campfire and the clearing buzz of alcohol in your systems, it was only a matter of time before the night fizzled into calm.
âmingi,â haneul directs her question at the taller, â if you were to date one of us excluding me, who would it be?â
his eyes dart from her to you and then to every single one of his friends. âiâd date you all,â he shrugs. âbut if i had to pick one person, then probably yunho, since heâs been there for me from day one.â
yunho knocks shoulders with him appreciatively whilst joking, âyour parents would love to hear that answer.â
you spot san and wooyoung cringing at the thought and youâre reminded of snippets of a conversation about surfing as a distraction and escape from home.
moving the game on, mingi asks seonghwa when he picks truth, âif you had to pick between love and friendship, which one would it be?â
seonghwa hums for a while, watching the dancing lick of flames. âi think it depends on the situation, because in the end, theyâre not that much different from each other. in love there is friendship, and in friendship there is love. itâs impossible to say that one is more important than the other.â
thereâs a collective boo as he skirts around the question, but you all understand where heâs coming from. it still doesnât stop san from retorting, âthe whole point is to pick one.â
seonghwa chuckles and downs half a shot to appease the other of his apparent half answer, then tosses the same question at him. âwhat about you, then?â
much to his disappointment, san actually has an answer.
âi would probably choose love. i think youâre right in saying you canât separate love and friendship, but the thing that sets a romantic relationship apart is being in love,â he muses. âitâs hard to find friends you love, but itâs even harder to find a friend you fall in love with, so i would probably hold onto that no matter what.â
a few of you subconsciously nod along, words resonating with yourselves. haneul nudges you curiously, âwhat do you think?â
you relax into her side as you slowly formulate a cohesive answer from your thoughts. âi think i would choose love, too. iâll admit itâs a much more difficult relationship than friendship and it often requires sacrifices to be madeâŚit can even mean having to let go of somebody completely.â
hongjoong glances at you, guilt pricking at his chest.
âbut at the same time,â you continue, âwhen you love somebody that much, sacrifice becomes something you want to give and are willing to offer to the other person, and you develop a depth of understanding, connection and intimacy strong enough to overcome anything that isnât always possible with friendship.â
âyou and san are both such gross romantics,â haneul pretends to gag.
âyeah, shoot us for it,â you poke her in the side. âwooyoung, truth or dare?â
âsince everyoneâs picking truthâŚtruth.â
âwhoâs someone youâre sorry towards or thankful for?â
he whines indignantly, âwhy are we suddenly getting so personal,â but proceeds to think about his answer seriously. âif iâm honest, iâm sorry towards everyone. i know there are times i fall short as a friend and make mistakes, but you all always forgive me and embrace my imperfections so graciously. sometimes it makes me wonder if i even deserve you guys.â
there are immediate noises of protest and wooyoung smiles, waving away their words of objection because he knows that heâs wrong. itâs just that knowing doesnât always stop him from feeling a certain way. âand of course, what iâm sorry for goes hand in hand with what iâm thankful for. but iâm also especially thankful for y/n,â he reveals.
your body reacts instantly to his unexpected answer, blood rushing towards your cheeks and ears as he looks at you appreciatively.
âi havenât known you for as long as most of the other boys, but iâve seen how happy and vibrant they are whenever they return to seoul or whenever they talk about you. and i can definitely see why, now. you make them happyâyou make us happy.â
mingi clears his throat, jumping in to add to the youngerâs answer, âwhen iâm here in namhae with you, with everybody, it feels like home.â
a home that heâs never really had until yunho, san, you, and the rest of the boys came along.
âso thank you for giving me a home here,â mingi looks at you earnestly.
if he were sitting closer, you would reach over and squeeze his hand reassuringly. instead, you tell him, âno matter how many years go by, youâll always have a home here.â
âand the rest of us?â yunho jokes, lightly slapping your knee where your legs have slowly made their way into his lap over the night.
âyou all have a home here,â you amend. because namhae is not the same without san, and namhae is not the same without the rest of your friends, either.
you continue asking each other questions, even after midnight has long ticked past and haneul has retired back to the beach house for some sleep. nobody wants the night to end, because despite already having been attached to each otherâs hips all summer, the time you are spending now around the campfire is different. life slows down and the nine of you are the only ones to exist along with the stars and the ocean waves.
âyou know what we should do?â wooyoung pipes up when you are all quietly watching the fire. he grins, âwe should do that thing where we shout at the ocean.â
âjustâŚstraight up scream?â hongjoong frowns.
a smile starts to spread across sanâs face as he understands wooyoungâs vision. âno, like our dreams. regrets. confessions,â san elaborates, making a move to stand and brushing the sand off his shorts.
seonghwa questions, âare we really doing this?â and yet he stands up as well.
âwhen will we ever get a chance to do this again?â
one by one, you all get up on your feet and wander down the beach closer towards the water. itâs silent, save for the crash of waves, while you eye each other and wait for somebody to start it off.
yunho clears his throat, then yells his next words from the very depths of his chest, âi want to become a famous choreographer!â
there are shared giggles at the striking contrast in volume after hours of low, heartfelt conversation, but itâs enough to fill the rest of you with courage and desire to do the same.
âi want my parents to accept that i wonât be a lawyer like they wanted me to be!â yeosang calls out.
mingi takes a huge breath with his entire body, âi hope iâll win the lottery one day!â
you all break out into laughter, happiness and vigour running high through your veins. it definitely feels a little silly and a little childish, but is that not the charm of living in the prime years of your youth and spending it with your friends?
reservations now completely thrown to the wind, the boys holler and yell both serious and unserious aspirations with their entire soul, cupping the sides of their mouths with their hands to carry their voices further out across the waters. you watch them with deep affection and tenderness and your eyes suddenly start to well up with the intensity of your emotions.
thank you for showing me what love feels like. you can continue to love them as friends, and that is already more than you could ever ask for.
taking a deep inhale of the chill of emerging dawn and blinking away the blur in your eyes, you join the boys and yell your heart out to the ocean. your screams blend together into a symphony of dreams and hopes; the swell of the chorus and the pinnacle of the movie.
and even though youâre all half-delirious from the lack of sleep, hair ruffled and mismatched pajamas wrinkled, it feels like anything and everything is possible in this moment. from here on, itâs the nine of you against the world and whatever it may bring.
youâve known johnny since you started attending namhaeâs provincial college. being from a relatively small cohort and the same degree no less, you share most of your classes together. thereâll be a few times throughout the month that youâll find yourselves sitting in the seat beside each other and maybe once a semester that youâll complete a group task together.
heâs easy enough to get along with, conversation sprinkled with terrible jokes and random puns that remind you of yunhoâs silly humour. you know for a fact as well that theyâre the same height too, which sort of makes you wonder whether being tall has something to do with the way their funny bone develops, considering mingiâs humour is just as questionable.
you and johnny arenât exactly distant enough to only be classified as classmates, but youâre not exactly close either. so itâs a surprise when, after summer ends and it marks a new semester, johnny asks you out on a coffee date on the weekend. (except the more you think about it afterwards, the more your seemingly random interactions make sense. why he asks for your number even after the group project is over. why he offers to drop off handwritten notes for you. why he sometimes favours sitting with you as opposed to with his own friends.)
initially, you tell him that youâre not interested, any potential awkwardness dissipating the moment he dramatically wails that heâs been rejected, much like hongjoong had when you had first met him. but then a week later, johnny coolly slaps an envelope onto the surface of your lecture table and struts off without looking back. when you open it, you realise itâs a three-page handwritten essay detailing his pros and cons in an attempt to try and win you over.
it reminds you of wooyoung, when he had made a whole presentation on his laptop complete with photographic and videographic evidence to try and convince you that he was the best dancer out of himself, san, yunho and mingi. like your friend, johnnyâs efforts are honestly a little too hilarious and a little too endearing to reject for a second time, and itâs not like johnny has done anything to suggest that heâs a creep or murderer. so you let him take you out on the date.
he chooses to go to the small, quaint cafe thatâs about a fifteen-minute walk from campus. coincidentally, itâs the one that you and san used to frequent before he moved away to seoul. johnny tells you to try the chocolate hazelnut dacquoise slices, which you do even though you know you prefer the strawberry ones more. the sweet mouthful makes you think of san, always offering you the first bite of his chocolate dacquoise in hopes of converting you to the flavour.
johnny pays for your dessert and drink and you two end up sitting in the cafe long after your plates have been cleared and mugs emptied to their bottoms. it turns out he likes spending time at the beach just as much as you do and he tells you of his summer trip to the maldives for his casual modelling gig. youâre not entirely surprised to learn of his part-time endeavours, considering youâve never seen him dressed in anything less than loafers, chino shorts and a neatly-pressed button-up shirt. plus, johnny is objectively very attractive with his strong brows, chiselled jawline and dark locks of hair.
he offers to walk you home after your date, shrugging off his white button-up and passing it to you when you exit the cafe. itâs still warm enough in the afternoon to not need the extra layer, but youâre reminded of yeosangâs quiet yet perceptive gestures and it makes you smile nonetheless.
the weekend leads to a second date, followed by more time spent together. he finds reasons to see you throughout the weeksâ the sunâs out which means you two should take a walk along the beach; he fell asleep during yesterdayâs lecture which means you two should study at the cafe; he has a basketball match on the weekend which means you two should practise shooting hoops together.
and when youâre not physically spending time together, johnny likes to facetime you just so that he can âsee your pretty faceâ. the frequency with which he compliments you randomly throughout the call is almost on par with seonghwa, who always sweetly observes when you're wearing a new lip tint or different hairstyle.
johnnyâs laugh, be it in person or over video call, never fails to make you laugh with him. itâs boisterous when he doubles over with laughter and his eyes disappear when he chuckles. you canât help but see jonghoâs own adorable giggles in him.
after several months of courting advances, johnny asks to make it official. you say yes, because you have fallen for him.
and so, like the dwindling campfire that had marked the end of summer, you snuff out the remains of the fire in your heart that has been burning for san, hongjoong and the six other boys, leaving the last of the embers to their fate. left alone, they will slowly die out, completely extinguishing the flames and leaving only ashen remnants behindâŚor the sparks will continue to fight unnoticed; until they rekindle and turn into an uncontainable inferno.
âwith all due disrespect, his parents donât fucking deserve to be parents,â wooyoung spits out.
yunho tucks the blotchy aftermath of mingiâs heartbreak a little tighter into the crook of his own neck, other hand softly tousling the ends of the youngerâs hair. the boys have only just managed to settle mingi into one of the beds in their shared dorm rooms after he had shown up at the dance studio barely holding it together by his last thread.
âi donât think any of us had high hopes for them, considering the things heâs told us about them over the last few years,â seonghwa sighs as he pulls the blanket over mingiâs shoulders.
âbut for them to just fucking disown him like that? do they even realise how much it took for him to come clean about us?â
san gently pulls wooyoung away from the bed, lest he wake up the boy in question, and massages his clenched fist open. yeosang sidles up to the pair, âdo you think we could go down to namhae a few days earlier this summer?â
âthat actually might be possible,â san chews on his bottom lip and takes out his phone to text his parents. âitâll be a nice surprise for y/n, too.â
âsheâs in for a few surprises,â jongho comments before nudging the boy next to him. âhopefully you didnât scare her off after what you did.â
hongjoong scratches the nape of his neck at the jab, âyeah, i hope i didnât fuck things up for all of us.â
âyou still havenât talked it out with her?â san looks up from his phone.
hongjoong grimaces, âno, but how could i? she said to pretend that it didnât happen.â
âand you just took her word for it? god, thatâs literally the universal response anyone would automatically give in a situation thatâs utterly and mortifyingly embarrassing,â wooyoung throws his arms up into the air. âi wouldnât be surprised if she says no to us after all.â
âlook, iâll talk to her when we see her again. the semesterâs nearly over, anyway.â
san nods, âmy parents are fine with us going down a weekend earlier. and i agree with hongjoong on this oneâitâs probably something they should talk about in person, not over the phone. letâs just hope we havenât missed our timing with this.â
thereâs only a few more weeks left until summer, minus one week now that they have decided to make the trip down to namhae earlier for mingiâs sake. and regardless of what your answer will be to the question that theyâll ask youâ be it yes or noâ it still wonât change the fact that everything will be okay once they get to namhae. because everything is okay as long as you are by their side.
thereâs a man standing by your side, and itâs not one of them.
itâs strange to see you holding hands with someone that they donât know. of course, itâs inevitable that you would have your own friends in namhae and from college, and of course itâs inevitable that you would have friends of both genders. but the way you have your fingers interlocked with his looks anything but platonic.
the boys are familiar with the way their own hands feel with yours nestled in theirs; from when you squeeze yourself between two of them and happily swing your intertwined hands back and forth; when a large wave threatens to topple you over and you instinctively reach for them for support; when youâre curled up against them and absentmindedly fiddling with their fingers whilst watching a cheesy summer romcom. but right now, their own hands feel unfamiliarâ oddly empty and unable to make up its mind as to whether it wants to relax or tighten into a fist, even more so when you make eye contact with them standing outside sanâs house and freeze.
you havenât told the boys about johnny yet, only that you had news you wanted to tell them in person once they came for the summer. but now that they are here, standing right in front of you and your boyfriend, you suddenly feel a prick of guilt that you hadnât given them a heads up of some kind.
you slip your hand out of johnnyâs grasp under the guise of tidying your hair. if johnny notices, he doesnât comment on it. instead, he asks, âyou know them?â and settles his arm heavily over your shoulders. the action probably looks as territorial as it feels.
âyeah, theyâre my closest friends,â you answer louder than you need to, because you feel like you have to defend themâ or yourself. âsanâs from namhae, too, and the others are from different provinces. they go to college together in seoul.â
âoh,â your boyfriend makes a noise, âitâs them.â
hongjoong feels awfully smug at that comment, because it means that youâve talked about them before. he feels even more pleased when you slightly step out from under the manâs arm. but then your next words have his expression darkening again.
âi was going to officially introduce him to you guys on your first dayâŚi just wasnât expecting it to be today,â you gently place your hand on johnnyâs forearm. âthis is johnny, my boyfriend.â
immediately, the boys recognise his nameâ how could they forget, when the name has never once left their subconscious since the moment he was mentioned. a fleeting thought enters hongjoongâs mind. if he had not pulled away that nightâ if he had kissed you instead of being a cowardâ would it be him standing by your side as your boyfriend right now?
and hongjoong is not alone in his thoughts. wooyoungâs teeth grit together as he wonders how different things may have turned out if only the older or he himself had been bolder with their feelings. if only any of them had plucked up the courage to make the first move. because you dating any of them would automatically put their heart infinitely more at ease than the literal fucking stranger who is standing by your side.
youâre about to tell your boyfriend the names of the eight boys in front of you when he raises an eyebrow at you, âyou didnât tell me your friends were all guys.â his tone isnât accusatory, per se, but itâs definitely not cordial, either. this side of johnny is completely new to you.
seeing the flustered look on your face irks wooyoung in every way possible so he interrupts, âand why does it matter to you?â
johnny levels him with a look for several seconds before smiling placatingly. âyouâll understand when you get a girlfriend,â he dismisses.
immediately, thereâs a palpable spike in tension. âsorry?â wooyoung scoffs.
san sets a firm hand on the back of wooyoungâs neck and you lowly murmur your boyfriendâs nameâ respectively scruffing the two men. you didnât know what to expect introducing your friends and boyfriend to each other. but the start of what looks like it has the potential to turn into a fight was definitely not on the list.
in a lame attempt to change the topic, you comment, âyou guys are here early this year.â
thereâs a beat of silence thatâs a split second longer than you deem comfortable and yunho clears his throat, âyeahâŚthings ended up this way.â
the vague comment and pointed look in your boyfriendâs direction tells you that thereâs more to it than they are letting you onto right now. you make a mental note to talk to them once johnny leavesâŚif he ends up leaving. but the heavy weight that is still draped around your shoulder shows no intention of removing itself.
even though your instinct is to run up to the boys and receive all the hugs you have missed, and their instinct is to pull you away from the unfamiliar man and back into the intimacy of their group, the arm around you is a stark reminder to everyone that youâre not single anymoreâ that there are now boundaries to respect. instead, your friends are left to shuffle awkwardly on the spot with wavering gazes as if they have caught you doing something they werenât supposed to see.
âdo you have classes today?â san dares to ask.
ânot today. we were justâŚout,â you reply. on a date, it goes unsaid.
âwell, weâre headed for the beach,â san hates the fact that he even has to ask his next sentence, âdo you want to join us?â
looking at johnny, you hate the fact that your immediate answer isnât to say yes. he glances at you and then answers on your behalf, âweâll join. itâll be nice for us to get to know each other, since it seems like weâll be seeing each other often this summer.â
ânot if you donât show up,â wooyoung mutters under his breath, but heâs not really trying to be quiet about his disdain.
you fake a smile and push your boyfriend towards the entrance to your house. âweâll get changed and then meet you guys down at the beach.â you donât wait for an answer before shoving the front door open and shut again in quick succession behind you.
âwait here,â you tell johnny, âiâll get you a spare pair of shorts,â then you disappear into your bedroom and let out a deep exhale, closing your eyes to clear your head.
you had spent the last few years embracing the changes in your relationship with san. every summer marked a change in your friendship groupâ a new chapter each year as you rewrote the group dynamics with additional people to love and be loved by.
this summer, like the others, also marks a change and beginning of a new chapter, but now youâre realising that not all chapters in a story will always be happy. instead, some chapters will mark the beginning of the complication.
it feels like an unusual mix between deja vu and an out-of-body experience as san straps the leash of his surfboard around his ankle. his gaze follows your form and he watches silently when youâre picked by the waist and tossed into the ocean. it looks all too familiarâ except instead of him being the one who brings the laughter out of your squeals, itâs that annoyingly tall and irritatingly jacked dude that is your boyfriend.
san canât help the sigh that escapes his lips as he peels his eyes away. if johnny makes you happy, then objectively, san wants nothing more for you. but he cannot help but feel that you are undeserving of anything less than the entire world; something he and his boys are willing to give to you. but life is all about timing and it seems like theyâve missed theirs.
heâs distracted by the sight of you and johnny in his peripheral vision, even as he paddles out into the deeper waters with yunho. the taller is uncharacteristically quiet, his eyes repeatedly flickering back and forth between you and mingi. mingi needed this trip more than any of them combined, but thereâs an uneasy feeling in the pit of yunhoâs stomach thatâs telling him the appearance of your boyfriend is only just the beginning of a rocky summer.
regardless of their combined years of surfing experience, both yunho and san seem to continuously lose their balance on their boards today. and despite the saltiness of the sea water that flows into sanâs mouth each time he fallsâ no longer the graceful choreographer of the seaâ thereâs a bitter taste on his tongue that he cannot get rid of no matter how many bottles of water he drinks over the rest of the day.
it follows him even when the sweet fragrance of fresh pastries and syrupy drinks permeates the air the moment he walks into the bakery you so adore after your group walks from the beach. san pulls the glass door open for you, wind chime tinkling softly overhead, and he has to resist the urge to let go of the door handle when your boyfriend also walks through without so much as a word or glance of gratitude.
before san walks up to the counter, he instinctively turns around to check your order before he adds it to his own like he has always done. âstrawberry dacquoise and grapefruit ade?â
youâre about to nod when johnny steps into place beside you and asserts, âshe likes the chocolate ones.â
san keeps his voice as even as he can and refutes, âno, y/n prefers the strawberry ones. i would know, considering weâve been going to this cafe together since we were twelve.â he emphasises the last word, clearly telling the other that he is the one who has known you since you were young and therefore knows you the best out of anyone, boyfriend be damned.
not backing down, johnny turns to ask, âis that true, babe?â
you swallow uncomfortably, mouth suddenly dry. âi like both,â you evade.
but your lack of denial says more than enough and johnnyâs frown deepens almost immediately. at his expression, you rush to amend, âi know you like the chocolate ones more. it makes me happy sharing them with you.â
âyou shouldâve told me,â johnny fusses. but opposed to disappointment at not having known your preference for strawberry, he seems more displeased at having discovered this fact through your male friend.
san notices how apologetic you start to feel and he absolutely despises how unfamiliar it looks on your face. if this is the type of boyfriend that he is giving you up to, then san is not prepared to let go of you at all.
âor maybe you shouldâve noticed,â he shrugs nonchalantly in your boyfriendâs direction before smiling tenderly at you. âiâll order your food. go find a seat with seongââ
johnnyâs voice is heated when he interjects, âno, you wonât. iâll pay for my girlfriendâs food.â
youâve never heard him talk with this tone before, much less seen him act this way, but his words suddenly strike you with clarity and reasoning. with a relationship comes adherence to mutual boundaries and expectations, and although san is used to doting on you, the reality now is that johnny currently fulfills that role as your boyfriend.
âitâs alright, san. thank you,â you give your friend a soft smile. âjohnnyâs got it for me.â
san nods, defeated. your boyfriend gently nudges you in the direction of the tables, âgo sit down. iâll bring our order over when itâs ready.â
on edge, you walk to where some of the boys are already seated and slide in beside seonghwa, who has been watching the entire exchange silently. ây/n,â he starts.
you plaster on a smile, âitâs okay.â
seonghwa studies you carefully for a moment, then appears to make up his mind about something and returns your smile. except anybody can see that it doesnât reach his eyes. âdo you want to swap seats with me? that way you and johnny can sit on the same side.â
grateful for his thoughtfulness, you change seats and sit on his left just as wooyoung joins the table with an iced americano in his hand. he sets it down to drag a spare chair beside him, offhandedly commenting, âwhy are you even dating him? i donât get what you see in him.â
he hisses when seonghwa kicks his shin from under the table, shaking his head, and you just give the younger a tight-lipped smile in response. youâre distracted by the buzz of your phone in your pocket. a quick glance downwards tells you that itâs a text from san.
sorry for putting you between your bf and i
you look up in surprise and find that heâs already gazing at you from where heâs waiting at the counter. his eyebrows knit together in apology and you shake your head, mouthing that itâs okay. san has always been the bigger person in any situationâ with you, with friends and family, and even with people he doesnât necessarily see eye to eye with.
your phone buzzes again, twice in succession, but this time the notifications arenât from him. itâs johnny.
whatâs his problem, god wants to get into your pants or sth
your boyfriend continues to tap away at his phone, expression marred with poorly concealed irritation. but he doesnât seem to be referring to your texting exchange with sanâ you donât think heâs even noticed. instead, heâs still hooked on the ordering incident.
slipping the phone back into your pocket and pretending you have not noticed the messages yet, you simply wait for johnny to grab the tray with your pastries and drinks before he slides into the chair next to you. and for the first time since dating, you find yourself comparing your boyfriend not to san, but against him.
it feels like you have spent the last two months treading carefully on eggshells. there are days you spend with both johnny and the boys and it becomes clear to everyone pretty quickly that theyâre not warming up to each other. despite your best efforts to bring them closer, there is unmistakable tension that underlies every interaction that they have and donât have with one another.
then there are the days you spend with just your boyfriend. he doesnât mention your friends and neither do you, but you notice the way his gaze flickers to your phone whenever it lights up with a notification. like a mutual taboo, he simply continues the conversation after a pause and you donât point it out.
and then there are the rarer days that you spend with just the eight of your friends, like todayâ the ones that feel like the old summers that you have started to yearn. and yet, even with the familiar essence of the past, you start to notice them. the subtle differences.
itâs not obvious at first. the casual displays of affection that have extended beyond habitual touches and have just become who they are are still there. but thereâs something about the attentiveness with which seonghwa dusts the powdered sugar off of yeosangâs cheeks when heâs eating. or in the naturalness with which wooyoung moulds himself into sanâs side when they sit on the couch. something in the way mingiâs entire body relaxes whenever yunho gently thumbs the nape of his neck, and in the softening of hongjoongâs eyes when jongho speaks up in conversation.
maybe itâs because you find yourself no longer a part of their shared love, regardless of how platonic it may be between you and the boys. ultimately, itâs easier to notice things when youâre watching on as what feels like an outsider. and it makes sense that the dynamics of your friendship would change, considering how deeply embedded physical affection is within your group and the fact that you now have a boyfriend, but thereâs something more to their interactionsâ youâre sure of it. you just canât put your finger on what exactly.
itâs that thought that reminds you of yunhoâs words when he and the rest of your friends had turned up a week before the start of summer. âwhat did you mean about things having ended up this way when you guys came down to namhae early?â you suddenly ask, eyes looking away from the television screen where the round of their game has just ended. âand wasnât there something else you guys had wanted to tell me about?â
clearly not having expected your questions, yunho blinks as he formulates a response, âyeah, there is. justâmaybe talk to mingi first. youâll probably want to hear it directly from him.â
and hongjoong needs to talk to you first, too, yunho thinks to himself. except, he wonders whether there is even a point to it anymore.
your heart sinks at yunhoâs words because you have a feeling it has to do with mingiâs parents. and his parents are never good news. right at that moment, mingi emerges through the doorway after his shower, a towel draped over his shoulders as he uses its ends to roughly dry his hair. he stops in his tracks when he notices you and yunho staring at him.
âi know iâm hot but you donât have to make it that obvious,â he jokes.
you snort and shake your head, getting up to your feet and walking over to him as yunho watches knowingly. âcome sit outside with me for a bit?â you ask mingi.
he agrees, pulling the towel off and tossing it onto the back of a chair to dry. you catch a whiff of sanâs shampoo when he moves, the fragrance of cedarwood and bergamot that all the boys end up being scented with each summer filling your nose.
the two of you sit on the embankment just outside sanâs house, legs dangling off the edge of the port. you can just barely toe the start of the sand but mingi easily shuffles his feet in it, drawing lazy patterns in your company. after a few minutes of peaceful silence, he nudges you gently albeit playfully, âdid you want to ask me something?â
you chuckle at having been exposed and nudge him back in response. he never budges, torso bigger and more muscular than you can move, but it doesnât stop you from trying and him from laughing endearingly.
âi asked yunho why you guys came down earlier this summer and he said to ask you,â you peer at him, treading carefully with your next words, âis everything okay?â
he takes a breath, exhaling long and slow. âi came out to my parents,â he reveals. âtold them iâm bi andâŚthey didnât take it well.â
mingi doesnât need to elaborate for you to understand that his parents didnât just ânot take it wellâ. you can only imagine the hell that broke loose. âoh, mingi,â you sigh, eyebrows knitting together with hurt.
âi also told them that iâm datiââ
the sound of the door opening and the call of your name stops mingi from finishing his sentence. itâs yunho with a ringing phone in his hand. âyou might want to take this call,â he alerts you.
frowning, you make a stand to reach for your phone, asking, âwho is it?â
he glances down awkwardly at the screen that is still on. âyour boyfriend.â
youâre just about to slide the answer button when the call disconnects and you see that including the one that has just ended, you have four missed calls.
âoh, shit,â you canât help the curse that slips out of your mouth. four missed calls is never a good sign from anybody, much less your boyfriend, who has also sent you several texts asking where you are.
seeing the darkening of your expression, yunho misses the girl whose biggest worry was the number of ice cream scoops to scam hongjoong out of. he misses the girl whose smile was brighter than the reflected sun on sanâs surfboard. most of all, yunho misses the girl he has fallen in love with.
ây/n, iâm going to be honest with you,â he hesitates slightly. âi donât think heâs the right one for you.â
you know that yunhoâs looking out for you and his heart is in the right place, but itâs not what you want toâ or need to hear right now. and perhaps, thereâs an inkling of you that already knows. still, you try to keep your voice even when you reply, âiâd know if heâs not.â
you turn to mingi next and shoot him an apologetic look, âiâm sorry but i should probably call him back. weâll talk later, yeah?â
mingi doesnât know when later will be and neither do you. but he simply nods and lets you go, watching dejectedly as your form disappears back into your house at the same time san steps out of his. he had been carefully observing from the window the moment yunho had walked out with your incessantly ringing phone in his hand.
âguess he takes priority over us now,â mingi sighs.
san looks at him bittersweetly, âthatâs what happens when you find somebody you love. like johnny is her priority, you are my priority and yunhoâs. in fact, youâre the priority of five other people as well.â despite the fact that he is shorter, san still reaches up to flick mingiâs nose affectionately as he fondly states, âarenât you lucky.â
mingi scrunches his nose in retaliation and san diverts the topic, ânow come on, are you going to just stand back and let yunho win the game again?â
the younger grins, light returning to his eyes as he cheekily suggests, âyou distract him while i cheat?â
âiâm right here,â yunho protests, but heâs shaking his head dotingly. together, he and mingi make their way back into the house, hands finding each other as they pass through the threshold.
san lingers behind and stares at the closed door of your house. for the longest time, you have been one of sanâs priorities, if not the priority. over the last few years, the number of his priorities have steadily grown and you now share the top of the list in his heart with seven other boys. your happiness is sanâs priority, as is the happiness of the others.
but what happens when interests start to conflict and your boyfriendâ and by association, youâ becomes a reason for unhappiness amongst the people he cares so dearly for? what happens if there comes a day where he must choose between his priorities and push somebody down the list, or worseâŚcompletely out of his heart?
youâre just as troubled when, half an hour after his missed calls and your subsequent response asking to meet up, you and johnny aimlessly wander the streets of the neighbourhood. the air is tense and despite the cry of cicadas, the silence from the lack of conversation is the only sound that you can hear. you can tell that heâs displeased by the fact that you had been with your friends, but youâre not exactly happy with him right now either.
you know an argumentâs brewingâ one that has been long coming, perhaps since the start of summer. you could have chosen to take the night to cool down, but it will eventually boil over one day, be it him or yourself. better to address it now than wait until itâs too late, and perhaps you can salvage it before it does boil over.
âwhy did you call me so many times?â
johnny knows youâre not only asking about tonight, and definitely not only about his phone calls. and yet, your tone is not accusatory, only genuinely curious and open to understanding his reasoning and emotions. solely because he feels guilt starting to prick his insides at your question does he make an attempt to reign in his childish jealousy that has reared its head so many times in the last two months.
âi didnât know where you were,â he halfheartedly answers. âi thought something had happened.â
you both know itâs a lieâ a pretty bad one at that. you had texted him just mere hours ago telling him that you would be at sanâs. at his excuse, you raise an eyebrow.
âi donât like the way they look at you,â johnny finally admits, partially showing his true colours. âespecially san.â
you had guessed just as much and you can see why he might feel that way, but you want him to see where youâre coming from, too. âwe grew up together, johnny. weâre each otherâs best friend and he doesnât like me like that.â
warm breath ghosting over your lips and then disappearing just as fast flits across your memory. ânone of them do,â you emphasise. âand iâve been transparent about hanging out with them when youâre not there, havenât i? i literally texted you a few hours ago.â
he hesitates, âi was busy playing basketball with my friends. i missed your text and then you didnât reply or answer my callsâŚâ the way his voice drops off the more he talks is a good indicator that he knows the patheticness of his justification.
âand i was busy with my friends, too,â you reason. âyouâre not glued to your phone, and neither am i.â
you continue when he stays silent, âyouâre my boyfriend and i understand that it can make you feel uneasy when i hang out with so many guys, but you have to understand that theyâre my friends, and my closest ones too. i would appreciate it if you give me more space when iâm with them, but iâll also try to make sure iâm reachable on my phone so you have a piece of mind.â
you look at him and search his eyes for any indicators that he has more to say. from the way his jaw clenches subtly, you know that heâs disgruntled at best. but to your surprise he does not protest, instead nodding and walking you back to your house. you canât tell whether the silence this time is slightly better or just as suffocating.
when you reach your front door, the lights are still on in the neighbouring house and you can hear the muted ruckus of laughter. as you unlock your door and pull it open, your boyfriend surprises you once more by calling out, âi love you.â
you learn a lot about a person simply from the things that they say, and sometimesâ
âi know,â you reply gently, before shutting the door.
âyou learn even more about a person simply from the things that they donât say.
itâs two weeks after your conversation with johnny when he runs into some of the boys at one of the beachside cafes without your presence.
with autumn just around the corner, youâre spending the day transitioning the rice seedlings, now almost at the height of your thighs, from the wet paddies to the drier fields since your parents arenât in namhae to do it. only mingi, yunho and jongho are helping you out; you had discovered the hard way last summer that letting all eight of them help you was, in fact, counterproductive when there were more plants being trampled on than safely moved.
and so while the four of you are working in the rice paddy, the remaining boys sit on the cafe terrace that overlooks the beach about a ten-minute drive from your and sanâs houses. a hush suddenly falls over their conversation, elbows inconspicuously nudging one another and shoulders tensing when they spot your boyfriend making his way towards the cafe with a small group of his own friends.
a smirk graces johnnyâs lips when his gaze falls upon the five of your friends, ignoring the courteous nod of acknowledgement that seonghwa attempts to make on their behalf and instead walking closer onto the cafeâs terrace. itâs not clearly audible, but itâs definitely direct enough for the boys to make out the words when johnny walks past and mutters, âfuckinâ pussies.â
wooyoung immediately reacts. âwhat the fuck did you just say?â he growls threateningly as seonghwa squeezes his thigh in anticipation of him standing up.
johnny pauses to look at them with faux innocence, âi wasnât talking to you guys, but i guess if youâre offendedââ
itâs hongjoong who rises to his feet first, chair screeching as it slides out from under his knees along the wooden deck. âyou say one more fucking word,â he starts, eyes thunderous and fists turning white at his sides.
âand youâll what,â johnny sneers, ârun to my girlfriend crying? ask her to have a little talk with me?â
at the mention of you, both san and wooyoung join hongjoong on their feet. âwatch what you say,â san looks at him dangerously. âdonât bring y/n into this.â
the commotion is starting to attract the attention of the staff and other customers in the cafe. seonghwa slowly stands, preparing to step in before it can escalate into something physical as yeosang grips the seat of his chair.
johnny steps closer and scoffs, âthatâs bullshit. you guys canât even take care of your own feelings so you have to hide behind my girlfriend like a bunch of pathetic losers. it makes no fucking sense for her to ask me to leave her alone when sheâs with you guys.â
âand i bet itâs never fucking crossed your mind that maybe itâs an issue with something youâre doingânot us,â wooyoung reciprocates with his own bold step closer.
heâs suddenly jerked forward when johnny fists the front of his shirt and instantly everyone moves in towards the two. seonghwa wedges his arms against their chests to prevent wooyoung from getting dragged further forward, though the younger is fiercely standing his ground, teeth bared and eyes murderous. save for yeosang, who comes to stand protectively behind him, the remaining two boys are swept up into the beginnings of a scuffle as johnnyâs friends step in as well.
âlook at you, all riled up,â johnny goads, ignoring the hands that are trying to keep him subdued. âand she tells me that you donât all want to fuck her?â
seonghwa inhales sharply as he attempts to overpower both wooyoung and hongjoong, who is now extremely determined to connect his fist with your boyfriendâs face. but to many of their infuriation, the fist doesnât get a chance to hit its well-deserved target when thereâs a firm shout over the commotion.
the cafe manager harshly warns, âweâre going to have to ask you all to leave the premises, otherwise weâre going to call the police.â
âwooyoung! hongjoong!â seonghwa hisses. âitâs not worth the trouble. stop!â
there are a few tense seconds of heaving chests and grinding jaws before johnny lets wooyoung go with a shove and hongjoong begrudgingly and slowly lowers his raised fist.
âyou bitches got lucky this time,â johnny glowers. he beckons to his friends with a jerk of his head, still glaring at wooyoung, then kicks a chair out of his way as he leaves the cafe. in the wake of the confrontation, seonghwa turns to look at the manager and creases his eyebrows in apology, bowing multiple times to the other employees and customers too.
the manager nods wryly, âyou and your friends are still going to have to leave.â
âwe understand,â seonghwa replies, beginning to usher hongjoong and wooyoung towards the exit. âweâre truly sorry.â
as the five of them walk out, his eyes dart around anxiously in case your boyfriend and his friends are still lingering around. muscles taut and on edge, seonghwa makes a decision as the oldest. âletâs go home,â he declares, âwe can wait there.â
they pile into the jeep wordlessly and san turns on the ignition, pulling out of the small car park and heading back to his. theyâre only a few minutes away when wooyoung breaks the silence, âso whoâs gonna tell y/n that her boyfriendâs a fucking asshole and that she needs to break up with his sorry ass?â he fumes. âbecause if no oneâs going to do it, then iâm going to tell her the moment we get home.â
âwooyoung,â seonghwa starts.
âno, donât wooyoung me,â he snaps. âheâs a fucking pretentious dickhead and she needs to know that. i donât even care if we donât ever get to talk about that other thing with her anymore. all i care is that he never gets to show his face in front of her ever again.â
seonghwa rubs his temples in frustration. he argues, âlook, i agree with you and iâm not saying we shouldnât tell y/n. but we need to put our feelings aside and think about this rationally, otherwise we could end up hurting her.â
âi think sheâs going to get hurt regardless of how we approach it,â hongjoong snarks as the other levels him with a look.
âthe campfire night is only a few days away,â yeosang points out. âmaybe we should wait until thatâs overâŚyou know how excited she and mingi get about it each year.â
hongjoong protests, âand wait for her to bring johnny along on the day? sorry, but not even seonghwa is going to be able to stop me from sucker-punching him to the ground.â
âsurely sheâs not going to bring him. itâs a day just for us,â yeosang frowns.
san feels their questioning gazes settling on him and he glances in the rearview mirror to confirm his hunch. âi donât know, probably not?â he answers whilst shrugging, turning into the small street that leads to your house. âbut honestly? i think we should wait until after that day to talk to her. i donât see the point in ruining it for any more of us.â
seonghwa agrees and adds on, âand only one of us should have the conversation with her. san, youâre probably the best person out of us.â
san hums in agreement, slowly braking the car to a stop before he turns in his seat to look at the rest of them. âiâll find a time to talk to her and in the meantime,â he looks at wooyoung and hongjoong gently, knowing how frustrated they must be feeling, âwe wait.â
thereâs only a few more days until the campfireâ they only need to hold out for a little longer until then. what could possibly go wrong?
âare you sure itâs a good idea to leave hongjoong and y/n to get the snacks together?â
seonghwa tenderly thumbs yeosangâs lips from out of his teeth, where he has been biting the corner of his lips in worry, and answers, âheâs hopeless at buying all the other things and she knows what snacks we like the best.â seonghwa knows hongjoongâs way of being confrontational is stark and direct, but he also has faith in the other that he wonât prematurely bring up your boyfriend and risk hurting you with the conversation.
you make your way down the snack aisles of the grocery store with hongjoong and it feels both familiar and foreign. there are no shopping cart races or invisible finish flags this timeâ only the two of you and the baskets in his hands as he carries whatever you pluck off the shelves. itâs been a while since youâve had time alone with hongjoong; not since the incident last summer.
looking down at the shopping baskets, you put another packet of banana crisps in before commenting, âletâs get some sweet things and then that should be enough for the ten of us.â
hongjoong cocks his head, âhaneulâs coming?â
â...no,â you look at him carefully, âjohnny is.â
âjohnny? youâre joking.â
you frown at the sudden coldness in his tone, âheâs my boyfriend, hongjoong.â johnny had been strangely adamant about going today and you had also noticed he seemed to be irritated about something. so quite frankly, you werenât about to tell him no.
âand heâs also an asshole, you know that? why are you even dating him?â
you know your boyfriend and your friends still arenât on amicable terms, but youâre honestly getting tired of feeling like you have to justify yourself and your dating life. and considering you have just had a talk with johnny to try and make things better for everyone, you canât help but feel like you are being pushed into a corner yet again.
âasshole or not, at least heâs honest about his feelings for me,â you retort pointedly.
âoh?â hongjoong scoffs in disbelief, âis that what this is about?â
you challenge him with a glare, âwhat do you think iâm implying?â
âso iâm the bad guy now? i thought you liked me. since when did you stoop so low as to throw yourself at any guy who makes a move on you?â
your jaw drops. âyou know what? what the fuck is your problem?â you shove his chest in anger. âletâs not forget that you were the one who tried to kiss me first and you were the one who also stopped. yeah, i did like you, but at least iâm willing to admit it.â
you step in closer, breathing heavy as you continue heatedly, âwhat about you? what the fuck have you done that makes you think you have any right to say that my decisions are wrong.â
hongjoong grits his teeth, âyouâre making a mistake dating him.â
âyeah, you would know something about mistakes,â you throw back sarcastically. âbut then again, you were probably happy to pretend it never happened and forget about it.â
âdonât fucking put words into my mouth,â he warns.
âit seems to be the only way i can get you to talk about us. you have no issues giving me shit about my relationship with my boyfriend, but when it comes to our relationship itâs radio silence for a year.â
hongjoong at least has the decency to look guilty when he declares, âi was going to talk to you about it face to face.â
âwhatever, hongjoong. itâs too late,â you brush him off.
you snatch the baskets out his hands and walk away, no longer concerned over what snacks the boys will have for the campfire later tonight. you just want to get away from hongjoong, so you do exactly that. you leave him alone in the aisle to stare at the view of your back walking further away from him. life is all about timing and hongjoong has long missed his.
hours later, mingi scans the room from where heâs perched on a stool at the kitchen island in your house. everyone is either lounging around, preparing the meat and cutlery or setting up the grill and table outsideâ everyone except for one.
âwhereâs hongjoong?â he asks nobody in particular. he doesnât think heâs seen the other since theyâve all come back from the grocery store.
âheâs resting in my room,â san answers. âsaid he wasnât feeling too well but heâll join us later.â
you roll your eyes at the knives youâre counting out, opting to keep your mouth shut. what san doesnât say either, though, is that he knows something is offâ hongjoong was completely fine this morning and you were definitely in higher spirits.
thereâs an abrupt knock at your front door and you put the cutlery down, saying, âiâll get it.â you know itâs probably johnny so you donât bother squinting through the peephole before pulling the door open and blinking, âyou look nice today.â
your boyfriend has styled his hair so that it slicks back from his forehead, parted down the right side of his scalp. heâs dressed in his usual smart casual fit but has chosen to pair it with accessories to accentuate his collarbones and wrists. he shrugs, âwanted to look good.â
you lead him to the open kitchen and immediately, you notice the shift in the air. a few of the boys give a tight-lipped smile in acknowledgement, but the expressions on wooyoung and san, and even yeosang and seonghwa go blank or two shades darker. hongjoongâs uncharacteristic cold feet suddenly makes a lot of sense to san now.
âyou invited johnny?â sanâs question is eerily monotone. a blunt knife may not be able to cut through rope, but with continuous abrasion and chafing, even the thickest of ropes will eventually sever.
your voice is not entirely friendly when you reply, âyes, san. i invited my boyfriend.â
âand why the fuck did you do that?â
sanâs swearing has you reeling in surprise, but itâs quickly replaced by pent-up stress and anger that has been lingering for weeks and exacerbated by your argument with hongjoong mere hours ago. your entire body starts to heat up when san continues to criticise, âweâve put up with him for long enough, donât you think? itâs one thing for you to date him of all people, but itâs another thing to bring him to this.â
you laugh bitingly, no longer concerned about trying to deal with this maturely. all you can think about is how san is hurting you and how you want to hurt him back too. âso you can bring whoever the fuck you want each year, but i canât bring my own boyfriend?â you retort.
the silence is deafening. nobody moves as they try to process the words that have just been thrown at them. yunhoâs eyes are wide with confusion more than hurt at how quickly this argument has escalated, and he slowly raises his arms out in front of him, âokay, i think we all need toââ
âwhoever the fuckâare we just âwhoeverâ to you?â wooyoung harshly interrupts. âweâve been trying to look out for you and this is what we fucking get in return?â
you know that you wonât be able to take your words back after you say them, but they slip out anyway as you counter, âi didnât ask any of you to look out for me.â
yunhoâs arms fall limply to his sides and seonghwa looks away. wooyoungâs words are resigned and stony when he stares at you dead in the eye and says, âyou know, y/n. we needed this trip this summerâŚmore than anything. but thanks for ruining it for all of us.â then he brushes past your shoulder and slams the front door on his way out.
one by one, the boys follow him out of your houseâ first yeosang, then seonghwa, neither of them able to look you in the eye. when yunho and jongho hesitantly walk past you as well, they give you a small, apologetic wince.Â
mingi still stands in the room. he has been quiet throughout the entire argument but his eyes tell a story of a million words. heâs filled with hurt and sorrow if not obvious by the wetness that starts to well in his eyes. âi guess you were just saying it when you told me i have a home here with you in namhae,â he chokes out.
your own eyes grow hot as you shake your head, âmingi, thatâs notââ
but he leaves before you can say anything else. turning back towards the interior of your houseâ now looking far too spacious and vast without one of your friends occupying every available surfaceâ you are left alone with just san and johnny. the heat of the fight is quickly slipping away, instead rushing all towards your eyes, and you call out sanâs name. what for, you donât know, but your cry is timid and desperate.
as much as it pains san to make a decision, mingi needs himâ his boys need him, and they are his priority now. right there and then, san discovers for himself his final answer when it comes to choosing between love and friendship. he walks out of your house, turning his back on you.
you jolt awake feeling disorientated. your head feels clouded, eyes blurry from swelling and youâre still in the clothes from last night that you donât recall falling asleep in. reaching for your phone, you wonder whether it has already ticked past noon for you to have woken up on your own, except you find that its dead. you roll over with a groan and plug your phone into its charger, then haul yourself upwards.
you rinse the stale taste out of your mouth before walking out to the living room and immediately, youâre hit with the memories and intense emotions of last night. there are packets of raw meat still unopened and bottles of soju still littering the table that you hadnât tidied up. in the aftermath of the argument, you had told johnny to give you some space and to go home. you had then gone straight to your bedroom, covering yourself with the blankets in an attempt to hide yourself from the world and cried out your sorrows until you exhausted yourself to sleep.
you let out a long and heavy sigh, soul still exhausted to the very core, so you turn back towards your bedroom. youâll clean everything up when youâre feeling a little more confident to face the consequences of last night. sitting on the edge of your bed, you reach for your phone. there are a few texts from johnny that you scroll past when something else catches your eye.
itâs a text from jongho, timestamped for 1:17 am. you and the boys rarely have a reason to message each other individually, preferring to use the group chat since there are no secrets shared. although, you suppose, none of you will be using the group chat for a whileâŚ
you tap on jonghoâs notification. instantly, your heart drops all the way to the bottom of your stomach and past it. you think your heart is down in the fucking ground, becauseâ
hey, wasnât sure if youâd want to know or not but i think weâre going back to seoul in the morning
the numbers in the corner of your phone tell you that itâs already eleven thirty, and thatâs when you hear itâ the noise that had woken you up earlier. the distinct slam of a car boot closing shut. you jolt up to your feet, panic coursing through your veins as blood rushes to your ears and drowns out all rational thoughts. you forgo any shoes and throw your front door open to run outside, uncaring of the grit that digs painfully into the soles of your feet.
a brief flash of relief flickers across jonghoâs face at your appearance but you miss it in your frenzy to make sense of what you are seeing. all three of their cars are parked in a line, their surfboards already strapped and secured to the car hoods or in the bed of the ute. the last of their luggage and duffel bags are being loaded and san is locking his front door.
every summer, the boys wait until the last possible second to leave, to the point where you have to forcibly push them towards their cars with fond laughter. itâs only thursday today and summer doesnât end for another three days, and yetâ
âyou guys are leaving?â you ask apprehensively.
nobody answers you immediately. the only sound that punctuates the silence is the forceful slam of a door as wooyoung enters the car. hongjoong accidentally makes eye contact with you and his eyes narrow before he opens the door to his ute and also disappears.
jongho clears his throat awkwardly, âyeah, weâre heading back early.â
âohâŚâ youâre at a loss for words, unsure of how to react to this situation. âdrive safe.â
like a parallel of last night, the boys enter their respective cars one by one, jongho giving you a subtle wave. guilt stifles you for the things you have said to the boys and youâre also consumed by hurt from the things they have said to you. but you know for certain that you cannot just let this friendship fall through the cracks like this.
as san makes his way to his jeep, which is parked at the front of the line as the lead driver, you watch carefully for any sign that things are still salvageable for your friendship. a smile, a glance, a nodâ anything. but he simply pulls his jeep door open like you are invisible.
you hesitantly ask him, âiâll see you next summer?â
san is expressionless but he may as well be glaring at you when he replies, âdonât count on it,â and for the second time of your life, he turns his back on you.
as san buckles his seatbelt in, trying his goddamn hardest to pretend he doesnât see the tears now beginning to fall from your eyes, he tells himself that youâve made your decision and heâs made his. he has chosen his priorities and will give you up, and yet, still he hopes that one day youâll realise you deserve better and break up with johnny. san hopes that youâll come across somebody more than better, even if it cannot be him.
before yunho also gets into the jeep, he pauses in front of you. he fists the sides of his pants to stop himself from reaching out to wipe your tears away. instead, he consoles, âi think we all just need a little bit of time, yeah?â
you nod numbly at his words. youâre forced to take several steps back out of the way after yunho also shuts his door closed and the engines hum to life in succession. unable to do anything, you can only watch helplessly as sanâs jeep starts to pull away and the other two cars also follow.
âtheyâre finally leaving, huh.â
thereâs only one person who would have amusement laced into those words. refusing to turn around in your state, you exhale shakily, ânot now, johnny.â
âyou honestly need better friends. everyone has a stick up their ass in that group,â he comments.
âi said not now,â you warn again, blinking the rest of your tears away when you feel anger creeping up in its stead.
âi shouldâve just punched them when i had the chance to.â
you whip around to face him and yell, absolutely appalled, âjohnny!â
âwhat?â he scowls. âthey were the ones who started it.â
you grow deathly still. âstarted what?â you interrogate, and when he doesnât let up, you step in closer. âjohnny?â
âlook, i ran into some of them the other day. that little fuckerâwooyoung? he was basically asking to be punched. heâs lucky i let him off the hook,â he sneers.
youâve known wooyoung longer than you have known johnny and you honestly find your boyfriendâs recount hard to believe. yes, wooyoung is hot-headed and rash, but he never reacts unless he has been provoked. or in other cases, his loved ones have been provoked.
âdonât you fucking dare call my friends fuckers,â you growl. is this who your boyfriend truly is? is this the person who your friends have been able to see through all this time?
âare you fucking serious right now?â johnny spits in your face, âyouâre defending them? you always take their fucking side even though iâm your boyfriend.â
you spit right back, âand you know what? that was my biggest mistake. i should have never made you my boyfriend.â
johnnyâs expression drops entirely. âare you breaking up with me right now?â
âyes, i am.â you confirm. âweâre over.â
you turn on your heel and for once, you are glad that he has shown up at your house, because it means you are a mere ten feet away from shutting your now-ex out of your life. you fumble with the door, vision rapidly blurring, then walk through and close it behind you. slowly, you lean back against the door. with nothing grounding you anymore, the tears escape your eyes once more and you donât bother trying to hold back your cries.
all too fast, everything has come to a full circle of hurt. johnny turned his back on your friends, your friends turned their backs on you, and you have now turned your back on johnny. your chest shudders and heaves at the realisation, wondering where it all went wrong.
you want to seek out one of the boys for comfortâ seonghwa or sanâ but you only end up dropping to your hands and knees, head dizzy from how hard you begin to sob, when you realise that thatâs no longer an option. you all need time apart, both yourself and the boys. you know. but itâs much easier for them because they are going back to seoul together as their group of eight. they still have each other to lean on for comfort, whereas you are left behind to nurse your own wounds by yourself.
in the quiet of your house with the end of summer approaching in namhae, for the first time since meeting san, you are truly alone. it no longer feels like the nine of you against the world and whatever it may bring. instead, itâs you against the worldâŚand the eight of them.
haneul takes all but one look at you before sheâs making herself comfortable on your couch, tugging a cushion into her lap and patting the space beside her with a commanding air of authority. her expression tells you that thereâs no room for argument, so you sink into the couch next to her.
the bewilderment must be obvious on your face when she asks you to spill what happened with san, because she simply reveals, âsan messaged the family chat when he arrived back in seoul. and we all know he would give up surfing before voluntarily leaving namhae early.â
you slouch in on yourself, âwe fought.â
as surprising as it is to hear, since sheâs never seen you and san argue before, haneul had an inkling that that was the case after her little brotherâs vague reasons. she probes, âabout what?â
you tell her about everything. how you started dating johnny, how the boys came early for the summer and how you tried to get them on friendly terms. how your friends were constantly telling you to break up with him and how your boyfriend was always unhappy about you spending time with them. you tell her about the near-kiss with hongjoong last summer and the confrontation you had with him this summer. the argument you had with all the boys and the break up with johnny. everything.
haneulâs quiet for a while as she tries to piece together your story and her own thoughts. âdid they ever tell you why they were so against you dating him?â she finally questions.
you shake your head and she asks, âthen did you try talking to them about it?â
you slowly shake your head again, slightly ashamed by your own answer. you had been so focused on finding fault in the different ways the boys could have expressed their disapproval regarding your boyfriend that you didnât think of the multiple opportunities you had to work out why those opinions existed in the first place.
âwhat do you think of it all, then? obviously, you would have broken up with johnny for a reasonâor did the criticism from the boys just become too much?
fiddling with the hem of your shirt, you look down at your lap. âhe was a decent guyâŚup until summer and the boys came over. thatâs when he started acting differently and,â you pause, trying to find a nicer phrase before giving up and settling on, âbecame an asshole.â
she nods, waiting as you elaborate, âhe became more overbearing and possessive, especially when i was hanging out with them when he wasnât present. and he was just always so pissed. he was dead serious about getting into a physical fight with wooyoung. and we both know that none of the boys would ever start a fight for no reason, much less a fistfight, so johnny had to be the instigator.â
the way that you are solely picking out the faults of your ex does not go unnoticed by haneul. ây/n,â she stares at you seriously. âare you upset about your break up, or your argument with the boys?â
her question stuns you because itâs quite obviously both, but she stops your reflexive response with the instruction, âthink about it before you answer me.â
you close your mouth and look at your lap again to actually process your own thoughts and feelings. what are you thinking and feeling? johnnyâŚyou had sort of known already that he would not be a constant in your life for much longer. from the moment you had started comparing him against the other boys, it was already the beginning of the end.
but san and the others? they are and have been the sun to your solar system for years; your providers of vitality, warmth and summer who you cannot live without. thereâs a constant, gravitational pull that keeps you all together, except the balance has now been thrown off entirely. you realise what the answer was all along and you quietly admit, âthe argument.â
she places a hand over yours, comfortingly stroking your knuckles as she sympathises, âi think so too.â
promptly, you feel your eyes pricking with the sting of tears and in a moment of fragile vulnerability, you plead to haneul in a shaky voice, âwhat am i going to do without them?â
âcome here,â she whispers.
she pulls you into her, your body immediately going slack in her embrace. you cling onto her like a lifeline, afraid that you are going to drown in your cries of anguish. you donât know how long you stay buried in her chest grieving for the friendships you have lost, but your neck and back are sore with stiffness by the time you calm down. still, she doesnât let go of youâ not until you make the first move to pull away.
haneul continues to stroke your hair, soft shushing noises as she rocks you back and forth with her. when your shuddering breaths have resided and steadied out, she breaks the silence softly, ây/n, i think thereâs more to your heartache and regret than just feeling like youâve lost your closest friends.â
your throat is scratchy when you mumble, âwhat do you mean?â
âi canât tell you because thatâs something that youâre going to have to work out for yourself. but after you figure out your own feelings, talk to them. communication is the first step to solving any problem, and i think youâve realised just how much miscommunication could have been avoided leading up to the argument.â
you know sheâs right, but your chest shrivels up on itself in fear. âwhat if they donât answer my messages or calls? what if they really donât come back next summer?â what if they hate me forever?
haneul rests her cheek on the crown of her head, âif they take a step back, then why donât you take two steps forward?â
her words slowly sink in and when they do, you inch out of her embrace. haneul cannot help the smile that adorns her own face in tandem with the one that starts to peek out along your lips. your face is still red and blotchy but there is now a ray of emerging hope as your voice trails off, âyou meanâŚâ
âyes, y/n,â haneul nods. you feel goosebumps spreading across your body when she affirms your thoughts.
âgo to seoul and talk to them.â
summer passes and autumn comes. the days grow shorter as the nights become longer and the weeks blur into a haze of monochrome darkness. the leaves and flowers fall off the trees, nature gradually stagnating and waning into nonexistence, much like the groupchat you share with the boys that has remained untouched since summer.
in a feverish state of resolution the very same day you had cried in haneulâs arms, you had booked an express bus trip that would take you directly from namhae to seoul. yet, despite telling yourself every weekend that youâll make the trip, the ticket remains unused. whenever you see your last message to sanâ a meek question asking if he had arrived back in seoul fineâ that continues to stay unread, your courage crumples and you reschedule the date for the following weekend.
the cycle repeats itself well into autumn. that is, until he breaks it.
youâve spent the last few days thinking about this very moment. there are only a few minutes left until midnight, which will mark the end of jonghoâs birthday. youâre unable to count the number of times you have opened his chat, typed out a message, then exited without actually sending it.
currently, the text cursor in jonghoâs chat blinks back at you like your own indecisiveness wavering back and forth between messaging him and not. the minute ticks over once moreâ itâs now or never. you let your thumbs skim across the surface of your phone before you can contemplate any further. itâs a simple message; only reading two lines.
happy birthday jongho how have you been?
really, you mean âhow have you all been?â because you cannot care about one of them without also caring about the others.
you lock the screen and toss your phone to the side, pretending you donât care whether he replies or not, as if your phone is capable of sensing anxiousness and will sabotage his incoming messagesâ that is, if any come at all. but jonghoâs last messages to you had been the ones alerting you that he and the boys would be leaving namhae prematurely. surely an indicator that this friendship isnât entirely lost.
the lecture slides on your laptop may as well be written in a foreign language as you restlessly eye your phone, wondering if he has seen your messages. you know it will be fruitless to continue studying, so you steel yourself for disappointment and reach for your phone. to your surprise, thereâs a reply waiting for you.
thanks y/n, iâve been good
itâs simple and only five words, but that in itself speaks volumes to your relationship. your heart skips a beat when the messages in his chat shift upwards once more as a new text comes in like an afterthought.
i miss you
really, jongho means âwe all miss youâ because you can be angry at someone, feel hurt by them, yet still love them all the same.
his confession stuns you frozen, your fingers hovering in place over your keyboard. it fills you with longing for more and hope for what may come, but also fear for what could happen. jongho has taken a small step to meet you halfway and you are absolutely terrified of messing things up once more. with your heart pounding in your chest, you carefully type out your next message, send it and then hold your breath.
can we call?
your fingers repetitively trace the rim of your phone case back and forth as you wait for a reply. thereâs a rising swell of panic that continues to grow when nothing comes and you even exit and reopen the app. what you donât know is that jongho almost trips onto his face in his hurry to untangle his legs from out of his blanket so that he can lock himself in the bathroom to call you without waking the others.
the phone nearly falls out of your grasp when the screen suddenly lights up not with a message but a call. you let it ring for a few seconds to gather your own composure before sliding the button to nervously answer, âhello?â
âhello?â comes jonghoâs reply.
your voices overlap as you both simultaneously talk, âcan you hear meââ âhiâyes, can you hear me?â
âyeah, i can hear you too, hi,â you breathe out, face breaking out into a smile.
the exchange has jongho letting out a giggle and the sound immediately releases all the tension that has built up in your body. your eyes start to mist over as you let out your own bashful laughter, because it is so much more than just missing the sound of jonghoâs happiness. youâre reminded of crashing waves and windswept fringes; heavy surfboards and helping handsâ the summer days when everything was happier and simpler. how did everything end up the way it has?
âthank you for replying to my message, jongho,â your voice is unsteady.
he must hear the way your throat threatens to close in on itself, because his voice is warm-hearted when he tells you, âno, thank you for reaching out first.â and as much as he finds it difficult to express himself, his next words spill out easily. âsorry i didnât do it firstâŚit must have been hard for you all this time.â
and just like that, so comes the first of many owed apologies. it doesnât matter that you have to be awake in five hours to make it to your first lecture, nor that you donât have a perfected script for all the things you want to apologise for. and it doesnât matter that jongho is starting to feel cold sitting on the bathroom floor, nor that he canât hold you like he wants to do. what does matter is that youâre both talking again.
as the night grows older, the conversation eventually flows away from raw confessions of your hearts to familiar topics of your mundane lives. it feels like the normal phone calls you used to have with the boys, except this time itâs only with jongho.
âwhat about you? have you been busy?â
you nod, even though he canât see you over the call, âiâm trying to keep up with classes but itâs hard with all the assignments due soon.â
âyeah, i have another huge film project and itâs taking up all of my time, too,â he exhales, then tentatively asks, âwhat aboutâŚhowâre things with johnny?â
itâs strangely exciting to clarify, âwe actually broke up a few months ago.â
you can hear jonghoâs sharp inhale even from over the phone. the conspiratorial tone of his voice painfully reminds you of wooyoungâs nosiness as jongho asks, âplease tell me you broke up with him and not the other way round.â
âyes, i broke up with him,â you chuckle. âhe talked shit about you guys the moment you all left, so i dumped him.â
âhe deserved it,â he gleefully states.
âonly i get to mess with my friendsâŚliterally.â
the joke is at the expense of yourself, but it feels uplifting to be able to start laughing about it now that you have started making amends, even if it is only with one person so far. knowing you have somebody on your side makes all the difference in the world.
âitâs actually sort of funny you say that,â jongho muses over the phone. âremember that truth or dare question? the one about choosing between love and friendship?â
you hum in affirmation, âsan and i picked love.â
âand look at you, picking us over johnny,â he teases.
huffily, you banter, âpicked you guys even though you all left me.â
thereâs the tinkle of laughter from over the receiver, but itâs cut short by a faint knock. you hear jongho murmuring to somebody before his voice becomes audible again, âhey, sorry, i need to go now. someone needs to use the bathroom.â
you resist the urge to ask why heâs even there in the first place, but you just tell him that itâs okay, considering how late the time is anyway.
âiâll talk to you tomorrow?â
âyeah, tomorrow,â you affirm. the wide smile on your face makes your cheeks ache as you grip the phone to your ear and wait for him to hang up. you hear the sound of rustling as he stands up and turns the doorknob, then thereâs a voice in the background asking, âis that y/n?â
but before you can try to discern who the voice belongs to, the call ends. you donât let the slight disappointment dampen your spirits though and you fall back to lie on top of your bed. jonghoâs last words to you have made you feel like a giddy teenagerâ tomorrow feels too far away.
but his words before his last words also make you feel like a teenager. only itâs not giddiness but the uncertainty and confusion that comes with adolescence as you try to navigate and understand your own feelings about something. in the face of the situation, had you truly chosen friendship over love contrary to your own expectations?
it makes sense at first to think thatâs what has happened, but youâre suddenly reminded of haneulâs wordsâ that there is more to your heartache and regret than just feeling like you have lost your closest friends, and that you need to figure out your own feelings before talking to the boys. if you have stood by your own values and chosen love over friendship, then that meansâŚthe heartbreak that you feel is grief not for lost friendship, but loss of your first lovesâ because you are in love with all of them.
that spark of feelings that had remained for the boys had never become fully extinguished. when you agreed to date johnny, perhaps it was only because he had reminded you of them and you had mistaken the flutters in your stomach for romantic attraction to him. and so, left unattended, that very spark has now flourished into a wildfire that can no longer be controlled, neither can it be containedâ itâs time for you to talk to them.
you pick up your phone again and send out a message, this time with no hesitation. it reads, âi need your helpâ.
and the reply is immediate.
anything you need
itâs the first day of winter when you arrive in seoul.
you get off the express bus at the terminal with both hands empty and only the bag on your back; you donât plan on staying for long so you didnât bring much with you. immediately, your breath fogs up in the frigid air and you nestle more snugly into the warmth of your coat. thereâs a reasonable crowd of people at the terminal, so you crane your neck in search of jonghoâs familiar tuft of brown hair, who had offered to pick you up knowing that this was your first time travelling up to seoul.
the last text he had sent told you that he had arrived and was waiting for you at terminal six. as you make your way closer, eyes squinting to discern whether you are seeing things correctly, you think youâre able to make out jonghoâs side profile leaning against a brick wall.
except, heâs not alone. your footsteps start to falter because seonghwa is also there. ironically, heâs the one who spots you from afar. he pushes himself away from the wall and turns his body towards you as jongho questions whether he has spotted you.
ever since the night he had overheard the younger on a phone call with you, seonghwa has been aching to make things right with you again. he had been afraid that you would want nothing to do with them anymore and that you would slip away from their fingers just like that. but here you are in seoul, just a mere distance away from him.
seonghwaâs eyes start to water and your expression crumples almost immediately with his when he opens his arms with an offer of an embrace. his feet rush to close the distance when you throw yourself into his chest, the cashmere of his coat rubbing softly against your cheek.
âiâm sorry, hwaâ you murmur.
âi know,â he whispers, stroking the back of your head, âme too.â
jongho silently watches with a small smile and allows you both to have your moment of reconciliation with each other. as you breathe in the comfortingly familiar scent of seonghwaâs cologne, you gesture for the other to come closer so that you can pull him into a group hug. and here, surrounded by both of them, despite there being several other things you want to sayâ poems of apologies and ballads of confessionsâ for now, this is more than enough.
seonghwa is the first to pull away suddenly as if he has been electrocuted. âhang on, are you and johnny stillâŚâ he trails off.
despite the snort of amusement that leaves you, youâre touched by his thoughtfulness to maintain respectful boundaries. âdonât worry, we broke up,â you reassure him, then you jokingly turn to jongho with an incredulous look. âyou told him i was coming up to seoul, but didnât tell him that johnnyâs my ex now?â
he rolls his eyes good-naturedly, âthat wasnât in my place to reveal. plus, seonghwa was the one who looked over my shoulder and saw your text asking for my help.â
said man pretends to walk away innocently. you and jongho laugh, trailing after him towards the carpark as you ask, âwhat was he doing in your dorm anyway?â
âhe crashed for the night. our dormâs close to his workplace.â
when you reach their parked car, seonghwa tugs the passenger door open, but instead of hopping in he gestures for you to go first. you indulge in his chivalry with a chuckle, even more so when he places a hand along the top of the door frame in case you bump into it.
âthanks, hwa,â you say sweetly, shuffling in further when he scoots in after you and leaves jongho alone to sit at the front of the car.
âgreat, not even ten minutes of making up with each other and iâve already become the third wheel,â jongho grumbles as he turns the ignition on.
despite the huffiness in his voice, jonghoâs heart sings with happiness to see you and seonghwa already getting along like normal. he is willing to be the third wheelâ even the ninth wheelâ if it means that you and his boys can shine together every day. but for that to happen, it all rests on how the next hour unfolds.
âready to go?â jongho asks, eyeing you from the rearview mirror.
are you? are you ready to talk to all of the boys at the same time? seonghwa gives your hand a gentle squeeze, and jongho nods at you reassuringly from the front; youâre not going into this alone anymore. you nod, âiâm ready.â
the drive takes less than thirty minutes and before you know it, youâre standing right outside the door to jonghoâs shared dorm with wooyoung and hongjoong. jongho swipes and unlocks the door with his access card, however makes no move to push the door open. the fact that neither of the boys say anything to rush you spurs you on with enough determination to enter the dorm. the volume of their chatter increases immediately without the barrier of the door, and you take slow, hesitant steps along the short hallway towards the direction of the sound.
you appreciate when jongho takes the lead to subtly show you where to go but it still feels like you are intrudingâ which, you technically are, considering two out of three people who live here donât know that youâre in the dorm right now. rounding the corner of the hallway, you discover that it leads straight to the living room where all of the boys currently are. so itâs fucking awkward when the sight of you emerging completely kills the conversation and a collective hush settles over the room.
you have to fight everything within you not to turn on your heel and just flee, because nothing has prepared you for their initial reaction. you hate the fact that you cannot tell whether the shocked expressions on yunho and yeosangâs faces are ones of delight or displeasure. you hate the way that wooyoung and hongjoongâs bodies tense and become guarded, ready to tell you to leave their dorm. but more than anything, you hate the way that san and mingi cannot even look at you.
âholy shit,â yunho whispers.
thatâs enough to set off the others and hongjoong angrily questions, âwhat the fuck is she doing here?â
wooyoung looks at jongho, âis this why you told everyone to come over?â
you defend, âi was the one who asked jongho for help.â
âi wasnât talking to youââ
you cut wooyoung off, contrary to your next words, âcan you just shut the fuck up for once? iâm not here to start another fight. justâhear me out, please. iâll leave as soon as i say what i need to.â
he glares at you and everybody holds their breath as they steel themselves for another full-blown argument. but wooyoung does as you ask and folds his arms angrily. nobody speaks, waiting for you to talk as you finally put your bag down and sit a safe distance away.
you close your eyes and take a breath to compose yourself. you refuse to let yourself cry this time. youâve done plenty of that in the last few months and you have finally come to terms with your own feelings. âiâŚiâm sorry,â you start.
somebody scoffs, but you ignore it and let the words from your heart take over. âiâm sorry for being such an asshole over the summerâfor letting my ex get in between us and for ignoring all the times you told me he wasnât a good guy. i shouldnât have assumed that you were all okay with me bringing him along whenever we hung out and i should have asked before inviting him to the campfire. that was something special for us and it was selfish of me to do that.
âin particular, iâm sorry for how that night went down. i know it doesnât excuse what i did, but i had an argument with hongjoong earlier that day and i was feeling strung tight. i wish i had handled the situation better when i felt confronted about bringing johnny along, and i acknowledge that the words i said canât be taken back, even if i didnât mean them.â
nobody needs reminding of the words that you are referring to, because it has sat just as heavily in their hearts as it has your own. the sight of mingi ducking his head down even further has your heart clenching painfully.
even if he isnât looking, you apologise to him directly, âmingi, iâm sorry we never got to finish our talk. i know that you were going through a hard time and that that trip was meant to be something healing for youâfor all of you. namhae was meant to be an escape, but it probably didnât feel that wayâŚbecause of me. i mean it when i say youâll always have a home in namhae and i hope that one day, youâll be able to trust me on that. in fact, i hope that you all know that namhae is not the same without either one of you boys.â
you hesitate, because not even jongho knows about what youâre going to say next. you avert your gaze to focus on the carpet just in front of you so that you donât have to see their expressions. âitâs taken this fightâalmost losing all of youâand breaking up with my ex to realise just how stupid and blind i am to my own feelings. i always thought i would be happy with just being friendsâŚbut you are all so, so much more to me than just friends and âwhoeverâ. i think iâm in love with all of you and i know itâs unconventional, butâŚi guess love has no limits.
âbut iâm also going to be honest. iâm still hurt by the things some of you said or did. it hurt that some of you criticised my decisions without thinking about how that might have made me feel. and i know it wasnât your intention to, but i felt like i was being backed into a corner multiple times when you kept repeating the same things over and over again about my ex without any real constructiveness to your words.
âi donât expect you to apologise right now, nor accept my apology, and i donât expect any of you to respond to my confession. i want you all to have enough time to work out your own feelingsâŚif you want to. if you find it in your heart to forgive me and if you want to apologise, pursue friendship again orâŚmaybe something more, then come to namhae and tell me in person.â
thereâs half a year left until summer, and as much as things can change in six months, you also hope that this gives you and the boys time to work out what you all truly want from one anotherâ be it friendship or love. nobody moves or says anything, trying to process everything you have said so you decide to leave them to it, having done your part. you make a move to stand and sling your bag onto your back.
âyouâre leaving already? where are you going?â yeosang abruptly asks, standing as well.
âback to namhae,â you explain. âi booked a return ticket for the same day.â
san frowns and for the first time since you arrived, he looks at you. âyou came all the way hereâŚjust to talk to us for half an hour?â
you give him a bittersweet smile, âthatâs how important this is to meâhow important you all are to me.â
he looks away, unable to hold your gaze. you turn to jongho to ask if he is still happy to drop you back off at the terminal, who nods and begins to pull on his puffer jacket.
âwait,â yeosang calls out. he skitters off down the corridor, socked feet pattering against the floor as he grabs something from his bedroom and hurries back in front of you. âhere.â
he has a thick scarf that he holds out for you to take, but as you start to reach for it, he changes his mind. you hold your breath as yeosang carefully reaches over your head to drape the scarf around you. with tender hands, he wraps it around your neck before securing it with a knot. he continues to fiddle with the ends of the scarf and youâre starting to wonder why he is hesitating when he looks at you shyly and mumbles something under his breath. before you can make a noise of confusion, he darts off once again back into his room. seonghwa cannot help but smile fondly, because even if he is unable to hear what the other said either, he knows what yeosang means purely by his actions.
youâre accompanied out of the door by jongho minutes later, carrying a plastic bag of snacks and drinks from their dorm that seonghwa has rushed to put together for you to have on your way back. when youâre in the car, you also find a pair of black gloves in the pocket of your coat. you have no idea who put it there, but the sentiment of one of the boys trying to ensure you are not cold is enough to fill your entire body with warmth.
you may have arrived in seoul with both hands empty and only the bag on your back, but you leave seoul with their quiet acts of apologies and forgiveness on your hands, neck, and in the plastic bag sitting on your lap as your bus pulls away back to namhae.
a lot can change in six months, but a lot can also stay the same. it all balances on the peak of the fulcrum, waiting to teeter either way as summer arrives.
youâve kept in touch with jongho and seonghwa, so you havenât been left in the dark anxiously wondering whether they will be returning to namhae or not. but even with their arrival, the uncertainty remains as to which way the scale hasâ or will tip.
so you donât walk out to greet them when you hear the resounding slam of shutting doors and the low hum of exchanged conversation, because you don't know whether the other boys want to see you or not. plus, thereâs something embarrassing about seeing them for the first time after apologising, much less confessing to them without any certainty as to their feelings, and much much less to eight people at once. youâre doing a pretty good job at hiding and pretending you are completely oblivious to their arrival in namhae.
that is, until mingi knocks on your door. mingi feels like heâs fourteen again, knocking on yunhoâs door and crossing his fingers hoping to god that itâs his friend who opens it and not his parents, because mingi feels embarrassed asking them every day if yunho can come out to play. this time, though, mingiâs nervous because itâs you and heâs nervous because six months is a long time where feelings can change. he hopes that yours are still the same.
youâre greeted by a shock of platinum white hair when you open your door and you realise itâs mingi with freshly bleached hair. it looks goodâ a little too goodâ and you have to force yourself to peel your eyes away. except your eyes travel down involuntarily to the contrasting black of his tank top, which is at least two sizes too large and dips down dangerously to reveal the shadows of his chest. youâre down bad, and itâs only been ten seconds since youâve laid eyes on him since seoul.
mingi is looking at you amusedly when you finally lock eyes with him and he seems to stand a little straighter with confidence. he beckons with a gentle tilt of his head, âcome surf with us?â
the casualness of his invite throws you off and you wonder if youâve somehow missed the memo that heâs forgiven you. âyouâre all okay with me coming?â you blink confusedly.
âthe others can speak for themselves,â he puts it plainly, but then smiles, âi want you to come, though. itâs not the same without you. plus,â his voice mellows out earnestly, âsomeoneâs gotta welcome me home, donât you think?â
home. home is where the heart is, and for mingi, regardless of the arguments and fights, his heart will always be with the boys and you. because in anger, hurt and love, there is always forgiveness, and mingi has forgiven you.
shyly, you return his smile, âiâll go get changed, then?â
âis that an invite inside?â mingi leans against the doorframe with faux coyness that manages to make the rounds of your cheeks heat up. you shove him back lightly with a laugh, trying to ignore the firmness of his chest under your touch.
he grins boyishly, utterly pleased with himself, but steps back so you can close the door. âtake your time,â he reassures. âiâll wait for you.â
and he does, just so that you donât have to walk alone to join the rest of the group. even after you have thrown on a swimsuit and slathered yourself with sunscreen as best as you can, mingi is still outside and yunho has also joined himâ you know because you can hear them talking as you search for your house keys in the hallway.
âwhat if itâs too late?â yunho asks.
âyou donât know that, not until you try,â mingi replies. âhere, a kiss for good luck.â
you have no idea what the context for this conversation is, but it suddenly strikes you that apart from mingi, youâve never discussed sexual orientation with the boys. you may have asked them to consider you romantically, but you canât say for sure if they even like girls. from what you know, none of them have dated before, and now youâre suddenly wondering whether any of the boys are dating within the group. mingi and yunho are certainly a possibility.
but regardless, you realise this is probably not something you should be discovering by overhearing a conversation, so you deliberately drop your keys to alert them of your presence and wait a couple more seconds before you open your front door.
for the second time of the day, youâre absolutely floored. yunho has dyed his hair an ash grey and it falls over his forehead and down the nape of his neck in messy locks. there must have been a fucking enticing buy-one-get-one-free deal, because heâs also wearing a black tank top much like mingiâs, except his is form-fitting and putting every damned muscle of his upper body on glorified display.
not that youâre complaining. but itâs also very distracting when youâre trying to focus on what mingi is saying as you all make your way down the beach towards the shore, their surfboards hiked against their hips.
âyou guys go ahead, i think jonghoâs calling for me,â mingi suddenly announces before darting off.
youâre left alone with yunho, and from the back of jonghoâs head who most definitely doesnât even know you three have joined the group, mingiâs plan to slip away has succeeded.
âum,â yunho hesitantly starts, âdo you want to try paddling out on my board? iâll stay close.â
the last time you had attempted anything on his shortboard, you had flipped over and swallowed several mouthfuls of salt water. although youâre not particularly keen on repeating the experience, some things donât need to be spelt outâ the reason for his offer. only one foot is needed to push a bicycle into motion, but two feet are needed to keep it in motion. so you nod and let him drag his surfboard towards the shallow waters for you.
as you trail beside him, seonghwa and jongho greet you enthusiastically on their own boards out in the horizon. yeosang waves too from further down the shore and you lose some of the tension in your shoulders when you know that the intention behind his scarf was not misinterpreted. only san and wooyoung do not directly acknowledge your presence, but unbeknownst to you, the younger is carefully observing your interactions with the others.
âhere,â yunho says, garnering your attention.
he holds the surfboard steady in the water, waiting for you to lie on top. his hands stay even after you gingerly shift and balance your weight onto your front. with his guidance, you slowly paddle out past the rush of whitewater waves. yunho is barely waist-deep in the water so he easily manoeuvres you and the board as you try to recall the familiar motion of paddling against incoming swells. but both of you know that youâre not really trying to paddle and heâs not really watching for mistakes.
eventually, you languidly let the waters caress your body as you still, letting the slight waves gently rock your surfboard. one of yunhoâs arms have shifted over your back to support the opposite side of the surfboard and your body tingles whenever his forearm brushes over you. his other hand rests near your own, your fingers grazing together whenever the board dances over a swell.
it is within the serenity and solitude of the ocean, and the warmth and proximity of each otherâs presence that the conversation happens. yunho apologises and you forgive. it occurs as simply as that, because actions speak louder than words and you have already shared a library of novels with your bodies.
from afar, wooyoungâs internal debate continues to teeter on its fulcrum as he watches the moment you share with yunho. wooyoung may be fast to talk, but he is also keen to observe. he sees the glow of relief and happiness returning to the faces of the boys. what he said to you summers ago still stands trueâ you make the boys happy and itâs obvious they make you happy too. and all wooyoung has ever wanted is to protect the smile of his loved ones, including you.
the radiance of the smile you give when yunho pretends to flip your surfboard over reminds wooyoung of his failure to do just that. in his blindness for the others, he had sacrificed your smile. the scale teeters over the fulcrum and he follows the momentum of his heart to wade out into the waters where you two still are, his apology ready to spill out.
and so you discover that a lot can change in six months, but a lot can also change in one day. with each relationship that stitches back together, rips now reinforced and sturdier than before, namhae almost feels the same againâ summer almost feels the same again. you may still have the two hardest conversations left to be resolved, but if more time is what they need, then you are willing to wait for san andâ
yunho and wooyoung scramble to steady your surfboard before you actually tip over when you suddenly move to kneel, head whipping around to confirm your fears. you hadnât initially noticed as the boys had been scattered, intermittently ducking back into the house, but your heart sinks as you count the number of heads again. youâre unable to fight off the dread in your voice when you dare to ask, âwhereâs hongjoong?â
yunhoâs eyes donât meet yours and wooyoungâs mouth thins out tightly before he cautiously answers you, âhe didnât come.â
san likes to think that heâs patient. ever since he was young, his father had made sure to raise him to wait. wait for elders to eat before picking up his own chopsticks; wait for others to walk through the door before he enters; wait for others to choose their preference before he picks his. and san likes to think that he has diligently applied this principle to his relationships too. wait to understand someone before criticising; wait for his own anger to subside before talking; wait to reflect on his own wrongs before expecting an apology.
but right now, san is impatient. he catches glimpses of the sweet messages you send jongho and seonghwa and the joyous cackles you share with wooyoung when you prank yeosang. he notices the way yunho and mingi are attached to your hips, and san wants all of that and more. he wants to tell you heâs forgiven you and that heâs sorry too; he wants to cup your cheeks and thumb away the phantom tears he caused; he wants to love you.
but his body is acting as if itâs an entirely separate entity from his heart. heâs unable to approach you, even as he watches everyone else do what he wants to and it frustrates him to no end. and itâs as if the gods themselves also became impatient with his pathetic attemptsâ or lack thereofâ because they drop the perfect opportunity right in front of him.
a quick look at his phone tells san that heâs been tossing on the couch for the last two hours. sleep fails to take over, so he hauls himself up and pads softly towards the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. he stares out of the window above the sink, where he can just see the stretch of beach towards the right. the moon shines brightly tonight and the rays decorate the sand and sea foam with dreamy tranquillity.
thereâs a quiet rustle above the stillness of the night. when san turns around, his heart immediately clenches at the sight. youâre sleepily rubbing the bleariness out of your eye as you shuffle your way into the kitchen. thereâs a stray tuft of hair that san wants to reach out and smooth down for you, but he opts to grip his glass of water tighter.
you startle, not having expected someone to be awake and most definitely not san. you had stayed over late into the night watching a movie marathon with the boys, and despite your protests, they had convinced you to crash in haneulâs room. tension doesnât exist between you and the boys anymore, only awkwardness with san andâŚavoidance with hongjoong.
âcouldnât sleep?â you murmur, voice unguarded and still thick with sleep.
san shakes his head, âyou?â
âgot thirsty,â you explain, grabbing a glass from under the counter.
he hums at your answer and then it grows silent again. itâs only after you drowsily blink at him that he realises why youâre not making a move to get waterâ heâs still standing in front of the sink. san starts to step out of the way but thinks better of it. reaching out to grab your glass, he fills it up with water and then returns it to you.
âthanks, sannie.â
it doesnât register in your head that the nickname has slipped out. for him, though, it echoes and ricochets in the very caverns of his ribcage. hesitantly, he mutters, âyouâre welcome, pipsqueak.â
it tugs a smile out of your lips. âhavenât heard that in a while,â you muse. âkind of miss it.â
and i miss you. san is impatient, and he finally decides that he cannot take it anymore. âiâm sorry, y/n,â he whispers. âi know how badly i hurt you.â
the haze in your eyes immediately fades away at his words and he takes it as a good sign to continue. âiâll be honest. i hated that the person next to you as your boyfriend wasnât one of usâwasnât me, because it didnât look like he was making you happy at all. and that day you were out working in the field? some of us actually ran into johnny.â
you acknowledge sadly, âseonghwa told me what happened. iâm sorry he was like that.â
âthatâs not on you to apologise,â san refutes. âi was the one who asked the boys to keep it from you until we could properly talk after the campfire night, but along with everything that had led up to that point, all my frustrations accumulated without even realising it.â
âi guess that makes the two of us, then. there were arguments you and i both werenât aware of, and we ended up being the last straw for each other,â you chuckle wryly.
his voice wavers, âiâm meant to be the one person who is always there for you, but i made it feel like you were pitted against the eight of us instead and iâm so sorry for doing that. it should never have been me against you, nor us boys against you. it should have been all nine of us against the problem.â
you canât help but take the opportunity to tease lightly, âare you calling my ex the problem?â
âexactly that,â he deadpans. âwe all did.â
you nod, âthank you for trying to let me know, even when i didnât listen.â
âno, iâm sorry we didnât explain ourselves more clearlyâor earlier.â
âbut you have now, and i understand,â you reassure.
he nods gratefully before hesitating, âthereâs something else behind all this that i canât tell you yet, not without the others here. but when things areâŚokay with hongjoong again, thatâs when weâll tell you.â
something about his promise tells you that it has to do with the other part of the conversation everyone has been skirting around so farâ your confession. faint memories of the interactions observed between the boys last summer and the brief exchange you overheard between yunho and mingi flicker across your mind.
perhaps you should steel yourself for rejection. you donât dwell on it, though. this may have been the first time your friendship with san had been so close to shattering, but you know that it will take more than the entire universe to completely break you apart; you still trust himâ because before it was the nine of you, it was you and san against the world.
âthen are we okay now?â you ask, needing the confirmation.
âyeah,â he smiles breathlessly, âmore than okay.â
the caverns of sanâs dimplesâ the ones you love so muchâ shyly peek out to greet you in the faint glow of the moonlight coming in from the window. he reaches out silently and you understand immediately. you intertwine your fingers together.
san wants to ask you to go to bed with him. not to do anything sexual, but to simply hold you against his chest; trace the curve of your nose; wake up to your sleepy smile in the morning. but he canât, not yet. not until youâve worked things out with hongjoong, and not until youâve had a talk togetherâ all nine of you.
he settles for tugging you in the direction of haneulâs bedroom, hand never letting go of yours as he softly ushers, âlet me tuck you back into bed.â
and so fifteen years after your first day of summer in namhae, you find that summer still takes the form of a sweet, dimpled boy who loves the sea and holding hands.
your instinctive reaction is to shut the door in hongjoongâs face.
when seonghwa had texted you asking you to open your front door, you had been expecting said man for obvious reasons. so when you pull the door open and see kim fucking hongjoong at your doorstep in fucking namhae instead, of course you slam the door shut. because why the fuck is he here?
âoh shit,â you curse, when it registers in your brain.
hongjoong is here and youâve just shut the door in his face. if you had even an ounce of collectedness in you, you would realise that the boysâ initial and very much candid reaction of shock to seeing you randomly show up at their dorm in seoul is suddenly very relatable. you yank the door open again.
âsure, why donât you just go ahead and punch me in the fucking face too,â hongjoong scowls.
immediately, you furrow your eyebrows, âwell, if youâre offeringâŚâ
âoh, fuck off,â he raises his middle finger at you.
you raise both middle fingers in retaliation, âyeah, back into my house that youâre standing in front of.â
âfor godâs sakeâkim hongjoong!â seonghwa hisses in exasperation, head poking out of sanâs door as he eavesdrops to make sure this exact thing doesnât happen. âyouâre here to apologise!â
hongjoong appears rightfully berated, then he looks at anything but you as he huffs, âcan i come in?â
âdepends,â you cross your arms defiantly. âare you going to try and kick me out?â
despite the prickliness of the conversation, it almost feels right in a sense. as if thereâs no real heat behind your words and you two are back to the easy banter you used to haveâ before your near-kiss with him. this time, though, seonghwa hisses your name in frustration.
âgeez! okay!â you fluster as you step back and open the door wider, letting hongjoong in and away from the prying ears of the older.
you sit tentatively on your couch and he mirrors you, scratching the back of his neck as he perches himself on the edge. itâs awkward and tense when it becomes apparent to the both of you that youâre alone. âi didnât think you would come,â you break the silence.
he hums softly, âme neither.â
you donât know how to respond so you donât, allowing the quiet to settle over your living room once more. eventually, hongjong opens his mouth quietly, âi wasâam ashamed of myself.â
youâve been there beforeâ on the other side of the conversation as the one doing the apologising. you know how difficult it is to be honest about your own emotions, particularly the negative ones, so you wait patiently for him to find the right words.
âiâve been ashamed ever since the night i tried to kiss you. i was a coward and i did nothing to change it. i only ended up hurting you and iâve regretted it every single day. i think about why i didnât talk to you afterwards, why i said those things about you and your exâŚwhy i didnât just kiss you.â
you canât help but inhale sharply at his confession, because that can only mean one thing.
hongjoong gathers the courage to look at you as he admits, âi did like you. i still do. but i was an idiot and thought that i was doing the best thing for everybody. i shouldnât have made that choice for you nor tried to have a say in your love life. i was jealous and i know now how toxic i was being, which is why i was so stubborn about not coming to namhae because i didnât think my apology would be good enough. so iâm sorry for all the things i said and did, but iâm also sorry that it took me this long to talk to you.â
he looks so uncharacteristically unsure of himself as he timidly asks, âwill you forgive me?â
thereâs not a moment of hesitation before youâre closing the gap between the two of you on the couch so that you can wrap your arms around him. and in a rare display of vulnerability, he tucks his face into the crook of your neck. you comfort, âi forgive you. there are a lot of things iâm ashamed of doing too. but we all make mistakes and thatâs what helps us to grow.â
âyou still like me?â he mumbles into your neck.
you laugh at the ticklish feeling, âvery much so, hongjoong.â because in forgiveness there is love, and you have years of owed love to show the boys.
only when your sides become cramped and your necks become stiff do you finally pull away from each other. as you make eye contact with him though, youâre suddenly reminded of his confession. you know that you will need to have another talk with hongjoong about it, and you still donât know where the other boys stand in terms of pursuing something romantic with you, but that will be for later. right now, you are content and at peaceâ the nine of you against the world once more.
âletâs go find the rest of the boys?â you ask.
he grins, holding a hand out to pull you up with him as he answers, âletâs go.â
just as hongjoong puts on his shoes by the doorway, he distractedly questions, âwhy are these here?â
you frown and follow his line of sight, settling on the top of the cabinet in your hallway where a pair of gloves sitâ the ones you had discovered in your coat on your way back to namhae. âyou know who they belong to?â
âyeah,â he nods, absentmindedly touching them before walking out the door. âi bought them last year, but they were too big so i gave them to san.â
it was san who hid them in your coat.
you numbly follow his steps outside where the boys have gathered in waiting and are sitting side by side on the embankment, facing the ocean. they are simply living in the moment, basking in the golden rays of sunlight and the warm touch of the person by their sideâ an arm around a waist; a head on a shoulder. you almost donât want to disturb them, but you know the seven of them are not complete. not without hongjoong, and not without you.
and as your gaze meets san who smiles at the both of you, his chest swelling with relief, pride and love, you realise that san had bared his heart out to you long before you even knew.
once you fall back into routine with them, it starts to become obvious. the way the boys naturally gravitate towards one another with doting gazes and lingering touches; the casual use of a pet name or flirtatious joke; the shifts in dynamic you had noticed before that seem to extend beyond friendship. it starts to make sense when you realise that thatâs exactly the reasonâ no longer are their relationships purely based on platonic love, but romantic love.
itâs why yunho knocks his forehead against mingiâs just to see him smile, and why san pretends to grumble when wooyoung kisses his cheeks, only to give the younger a proper kiss mere seconds later. itâs why jongho never lets yeosang carry his own surfboard even if heâs just as strong, and itâs why seonghwa and hongjoong like to disappear into the shower together.
but the longer you mull over these interactions for, the more you realise that they donât seem to be simply âpaired offâ. you notice how jongho refuses to be cuddled but will nestle against seonghwa when heâs tired, and how yunho and yeosang seek out each otherâs company before bedtime. you notice how wooyoung squeezes hongjoongâs ass underwater to make him yelp, and how san and mingi are content to just sit together on their surfboards on the sand.
rather than a question of who is with who, it becomes a question of who isnât with who, and this time, you also find yourself mixed into the equation. but it confuses you whenever they treat you the same and you find yourself holding back despite your feelings, because itâs much harder to tell what kind of love theyâre giving you when you yourself yearn for the intimate type.
san notices the change in your demeanour, as small as it may be, and decides itâs time for the talk. so here the nine of you sit on the beach that stretches in front of your houses. the sand is still warm from the sun even as it starts to dip towards the horizon of the sea. yeosangâs jacket lays over your bare legs and a slight breeze tugs delicately at your clothes.
âokay, so whoâs telling her?â yunho elbows wooyoung as soon as the words leave the latterâs lips.
âwhat? how else are we meant to start the conversation?â wooyoung complains before mocking, âthe reason i have gathered you all here todayââ
rolling your eyes, you cut to the chase, âare you all dating each other?â
wooyoung chokes on his own words and everybody else looks at you with wide eyes.
âhowâd you know?â yeosang startles.
seonghwa agrees, âi didnât think we were that obvious,â but when you simply raise an eyebrow in response, heâs quick to amend, âokay, maybe we were.â
san eyes the others to see if anyone wants to step in and lead the conversation, but when nobody does, he speaks up to explain, âweâve been dating each other for just over a year nowâso before last summer. it took a bit of time to work everything out, establish boundaries and communicate what we wanted from one another, but weâre happy like this.â
âonce our relationship had settled down a little, thatâs when i came out to my parents,â mingi adds, âwhich didnât go down well. we wanted to tell you last summer too, butâŚother things happened and it all fell through before we could talk about it.â
yeosang meekly scratches the back of his neck as he says, âitâs long overdue, but weâre telling you now.â
the chuckle that comes out of you is light and carefree. âiâm happy for you guys,â you affirm sincerely. âi donât think thereâs anybody else who is more perfect for you guys than each other.â
you truly do. youâre thankful that they have one another and you finally understand how hard it mustâve been for san during your argument to pick a side. his boys were and are his priority and you cannot fault him for putting them first. but then youâre reminded of hongjoong and his confession. are the others aware of his feelings?
said man has the audacity to frown at you in confusion. âwhy does it sound like youâre just wishing us well?â
âam i not allowed to do that as your friend?â you mirror his expression.
âgod,â hongjoong exhales. âdo you think weâre telling you this just to reject you?â
âof all people to say thatârub it in my face, why donât you,â you grumble.
he starts to grasp the situation as he looks at the rest of the boys, âwait, did nobody fucking confess to her apart from me?â
the explosion of responses to his question is immediate.
âyou confessedââ ââi thought we agreed to confess togetherââ ââtrust you to cut in line! thatâs not fair!â
your eyes dart wildly from side to side, unsure of who to focus on as they all start to passionately talk over one another. at one point, someone tries to chuck a handful of sand in hongjoongâs direction, but it scatters innocuously before it can even get close.
âhold the fuck up,â you yell over the commotion. âconfess what?â
âhow did you figure out that weâre in a polyamorous relationship but not that the feelings extend to you as well?â yeosang judges you.
âi didnât want to project my own feelings and misconstrue anything. plus, none of you have actually mentioned liking or dating girls before, so i justâŚâ
âassumed we didnât have feelings for you,â seonghwa concludes as you laugh awkwardly.
wooyoung deadpans, âwe may have wanted to punch your ex in the face for his shitty-ass personality because we were your friends, but we were also jealous as fuck.â
âall of you?â you ask in disbelief.
âall of us. some of us were just better at hiding it,â mingi looks pointedly at the boy sitting on his left.
âyouâre one to talk about hiding your feelings,â hongjoong counters before turning to you to expose, âmingi wouldnât shut up about you after he met you.â
mingi immediately shoves him backwards into the sand.
âlook,â jongho cuts in, âwhat weâre trying to say is that weâve all liked you for a while now, and if you still feel the same way about us, then weâd like to take our relationship with you to the next step.â
how many times have you wanted this momentâ for all of them to return your confession. but now that itâs actually becoming a reality, itâs honestly a little daunting. âyouâre all serious about this?â
a lot will change over the next year. most of you will join hongjoong and seonghwa as postgraduates and start full-time work. san will move back to namhae, but whether the others will follow or stay in seoul is unknown. there are a lot of uncertainties regarding the future and the relationship will only work if everyone is serious about making it work.
yunho answers on everyoneâs behalf, âweâre very serious.â
you take a moment to look at all of them one by one, only to find the same promise within their gazesâ that even if things become difficult, they want to face it with you by their side.
it feels right when san is the one to officially ask the question, ây/n, will you be our girlfriend?â
like san once said, itâs hard to find friends you love, but itâs even harder to find a friend you fall in love with, and youâve been blessed with not only one, but eight of these people. between friendship and love, you already know from experience what you will decideâ so you make your choice.
âi forgot, are hongjoong and wooyoung coming down this weekend?â san pokes his head in through the doorway.
you eye him from the mirror, face void of expression to reply, âdonât count on it.â
sanâs pout is immediate and you laugh, shuffling over to console your boyfriend from where you had been getting ready in your shared bathroom. he grumbles, âyouâre never going to let me hear the end of that, are you?â but he canât hide the way his lips pull upwards the moment you press a chaste kiss against his cheek in apology.
âhongjoong said that there were a couple of delays with filming, so he and wooyoung canât step away just yet. but theyâll come back next saturday if they can wrap things up by then.â
as you talk, san takes the halter straps out of your grasp so that he can help secure your top around your neck. âitâs so hard to align everyoneâs schedules together. i miss the long holiday breaks we got in college,â you absently complain, body relaxing under the ministrations of sanâs hands as he gently squeezes the nape of your neck.
âme too, love,â another voice joins the conversation. seonghwa walks up to tenderly ruffle sanâs hair and nuzzles your temple with his nose. âbut we have to work hard to pay off this house and to spoil you with whatever you want.â
seonghwa has grown out his hair and has kept it long since, and you love running your fingers through his silken waves before he goes to work every morning. he always looks so soft and cosy with his round glasses and fluffy sweaters that you know his school kids adore just as much as you do. but right now, his face bare of makeup and hair pulled back into a messy updo, wearing nothing but a pair of board shorts to show off his upper build, he looks the complete opposite of what youâre used to seeing and you feel your stomach doing flips in response.
you lean into both of their touches as you giggle, âwe could have bought a smaller house. nobody sleeps in their own bedroom anyway.â
âwell can you really blame us for being madly in love,â seonghwa grins, stealing a kiss from you that only serves to elicit more giggling.
âthatâs true. your beds are always warmer than mine,â you agree.
âexactly. now come on, are you ready to go?â
the three of you walk downstairs to the living room, where the rest of the boys are waiting around in various mismatches of shirts, tank tops or only shorts. after two weeks of attempting to keep everybodyâs clothes separate once youâd all moved in together, they had simply given up and made their wardrobes communal.
as you drop a spare bottle of sunscreen into your tote bag, a pair of arms snake themselves around your waist. you turn around, sweet smile ready to greet whoever it is. your jaw drops, âwooyoung?â
his eyes sparkle with mischief, even more so when your eyes grow even wider at the sight of hongjoong perched on the edge of the couch in the background and you exclaim, âhongjoong? i thought you two werenât coming until next week?â
wooyoung takes the opportunity of your dazed compliance to pull you into a bone-crushing hug. âwe caught up with the schedule,â he exclaims happily. âyou shouldâve seen hongjoong though. director kim made sure to work us hard.â
you playfully wriggle yourself out of the vice-like hug youâre in to bound over to the older, who automatically opens his arms to welcome you. you slot easily between his legs and his hands rub the sides of your back fondly as he looks up to ask, âdid you miss me?â
forgoing an answer, you lean down to kiss him. wooyoung immediately complains, âwhy didnât i get a kiss?â so san pulls him in for one to appease him. youâd never be able to leave the house otherwise, because then everyone would start demanding your kisses. and considering that it has been a few long months since you last had quality time with all eight of them at the same time, there would be too many wanted kisses to count.
one thing you had all agreed on prior to buying a house in namhae was to ensure it had a beach front, just like your and sanâs old home. so it doesnât take long to carry your surfboardsâ save for you; the boys like it when you use theirsâ and towels down to the shore.
you close your eyes, inhaling the familiar scent of salt and subtle feeling of ocean spray on your skin. itâs a bittersweet emotion, knowing that itâs already the last day of summer, but only today have the nine of you been able to align your schedules this year. it makes you appreciate these fleeting moments of rest though, and you learn to find rest in each other too.
some of the boys start slipping off their tops, dropping them onto the sand to keep them dry as they surf. youâve found that the greatest perk of dating them is that youâre allowed to openly and unashamedly ogle at them. the rigid shadows of their muscles reveal the discipline and hard work they put into maintaining their bodies despite their busy jobs.
san had also been monitoring his protein intake leading up to his recent dance showcase, so itâs very hard to look at the expanse of his broad chest and prominent dip of abs down his hips without feeling a rush of heat in your lower stomach. if the boys know that you offer to help them reapply sunscreen just to get a little handsy with them, then nobody says anything. (they offer to help you reapply your sunscreen as well.)
youâre content to just lie down on your towel and watch the boys, yeosang in his usual place by your side as he presses lazy kisses to your shoulder and traces the names of his lovers onto the skin of your stomach. mingi starts dragging his surfboard into the water, but when wooyoung attempts to push him in insteadâ and fails miserablyâ all thoughts of surfing are quickly forgotten. it becomes an absolute shitshow when hongjoong gets mistaken for the culprit and mingi picks him up.Â
âit wasnât me!â the older shrieks, but mingi has no ears for reasoning and prepares to drop him into the water. unwilling to go down by himself, hongjoong grips mingiâs neck at the last second and successfully drags him underwater with his weight. as wooyoung runs away absolutely delighted by the outcome, his trajectory unfortunately runs into jongho, who cuts off his cackles with a giggle, a simple shove sideways and a resultant splash.
not even bystanders can catch a break, and seonghwa screams for mercy as san and yunho suddenly grab his arms and legs. they sway him from side to side before letting him go with the momentum of the last swing to fling him into the ocean. everyone erupts into a united clamour of glee at the dunking of the eldest and you find yourself shaking your head at their unchanging antics.
you donât think you can ever get tired of watching their radiant smiles of happiness and shared touches of sun-kissed skin, nor can you ever get tired of hearing their tinkling chimes of laughter and rowdy shouts of mischief. you may all grow older and there may not be as much time or luxury to simply bask in the joys of summer any longer; these golden hours that you are living in right now may forever remain as your sole memories when you reflect back on the essence of your youth.
on this dayâ the last day of summer in namhaeâ you find that summer takes the form of shared ice cream with sticky kisses, long showers with warm touches, and hushed pillow talk with synchronous heartbeats. but it doesnât matter to you, not anymore.
the seasons will change and the years will pass, but so long as you are with your boys, every day will be summer.
#TAKING BREAKS WHILST READING LIKE YOU'RE STUDYING ASKJFHDSLKGJSH#what can i say this fic should be added to the english curriculum or sth đđ
#get a job or a choi san oh i will defs go for the latter option#where do i sign up#HONESTLY SIMPING FOR HONGJOONG'S RIZZ IS SO REAL LIKE THE MAN'S GOT GAME#he can say one (1) line to flirt with me and i'd be folding fr fr đŤđ#MINGI YES MINGI SUNFLOWER SUPREMACY RAHHH#HE'S SO CUTE HE'D LITERALLY PERK UP AS A SUNFLOWER WHENEVER ANYONE SMILES AT HIM#yeahh it was hard to balance out all of the different characters and flesh them all out equally#but i still hope his personality was developed enough for his motives and interactions with reader to be reasonable#YES YES THE POSSESSIVE TERMS /your/ boys and /his/ boys RAHHHH YES YOU ALL BELONG TO EACH OTHER đ#hwa and jongho were honestly <3333 the way they made amends so easily <3333 :')))#aND THEN YOU CASUALLY CURSING OUT JOHNNY HAHAHA#but yeSSSS thank you for noticing that she's namedropping all the boys WHILST on the date with johnny#THE SAN BEING PATIENT EXAMPLES WAS ONE OF MY FAVE PARTS TO WRITE BECAUSE IT'S LITERALLY HIM IRL#HE'S SO GREEN FLAG I LUB HIM SO MUCH#THE LIL QUARTET DURING THE FIRST SUMMER JUST MAKING SANDCASTLES WILL HAVE SUCH A SOFT SPOT IN MY HEART đĽš#U ARE NOT THE PRINCESS HERE AHAHHAHA I'M DYING#yeah how dare johnny walk through the door that san's holding open for y/n tHE AUDACITY OF THE MANS ?????#thank you so much for your long reblog i had so much fun reading through all your reactions XD#i appreciate the time you took to comment on all these things#ily ily ily <33333
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Omg could we see reader getting jealous of Sukuna having sec with his other concubines? And maybe liek the other concubine rubs it in readers face?
âđđ đđđđ. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. angst (no comfort), suggestive \\ smut aspects. size difference. one tiny mention of reader being a crybaby. reader gets called âlittle one, bratâ \\ kunaâs an asshole! not proofread, excuse the grammar. no part 2. wc: 3.3k
youâve been away from the estate for three days; three days too long for the king of curses. so much had happened while you were away to take some well deserved restâa small vacation that sukuna had granted you because you needed it.
perhaps that was his first mistake. giving you permission to leave his side ended up being a bad decision. he hates that faint feeling in his chest, the feeling of missing something.
missing someone.
it couldnât be. sukuna doesnât have any weaknesses, and yet he can feel his body reacting to that unfamiliar emotion again. all because of youâ that one human who always succeeds to occupy his mind.
he couldnât let himself succumb to itâheâs not going to. sukuna is not going to let a mere human like you deter him from his superior identity that heâs had for decennia. heâs not going to let you have that power over him and his body.
and thus, when you return to the estate, you find yourself being laughed at. you were unpacking your luggage when two concubines stand at your doorway, hiding their evil smiles behind their handheld fans.
they donât waste a single second and immediately rush to ruin your carefree mood.
âyou know, you shouldnât have returned at all,â the brunette giggles, her laugh sounding like nails scraping against a chalkboard. she looks to the other woman next to her before glancing back at you, âi meanâhehâlord sukuna definitely didnât seem to mind your absence.â
you figure itâs just another way to get you riled up, so you do your best to ignore them. you put your packed kimonos in your wardrobe as your back faces the two.
yumi, the second concubine, nods along. she knows what sheâs about to reveal will get on your nerves. and deserved, if you ask her. they had successfully caught the attention of their king while you were away. for the first time in a good while since your arrival in the estate.
the fact that they managed to spend quality time with sukuna again, is a wonderful first step to your downfall. one that will surely crumble your confidence as his so-called âfavoriteâ.
âmhm,â yumi grins as she recalls the memories of her time with sukuna. time spent together that you were unaware of, âlord sukuna definitely didnât seem to mind your absence when he had me in his bed last night.â
you freeze.
your brows furrow and the corners of your lips twitch. you donât know if you should believe themâthey couldâve lied about it for all you know. although, the voice in the back of your head had already rang the alarms.
guessing by the way they were dying to talk to you the second you came back - which never happens - you realise that theyâre probably telling the truth. theyâre only telling the truth to agitate you. itâs so painfully obvious, and yet so. . . hurtful.
âwhat?â
you donât recall when youâve choked up. you feel a lump in your throat. it shouldnât even be there. you promised yourself to not get attached to a monster like sukuna.
so what if he went to bed with his other concubines?
but of course heâll get pleasure from his other women when you arenât around. he doesnât feel any love, he sees it as worthless, so why did you expect him to not indulge himself? he still has his other concubines around for a reason.
you really shouldnât be surprised by this revelation.
âwhat do you mean âwhat?â - you heard me,â yumi shrugs, that cocky smirk still on her face. sheâs clearly enjoying your reaction to everything sheâs revealing. all the two concubines wanted to get out of this encounter with you, is to break that delusion of yours.
the delusional thought that youâre special to the king of cursesâthe delusion that sukuna considers you as something more than a toy to emotionally manipulate and play with until heâs tired of you.
âmy lord spent all night with me in his chambers until the sun rose,â yumi continues without an ounce of shame. she bites her lip as she remembers the way sukuna had her body positioned on his large bed. for her, it was a dream come true.
though for you, itâs a living nightmare. even if you try to deny the fact that it physically and mentally hurts. thereâs a painful twist at your heartâreminding you of the truth.
the truth being that you had truly thought that sukuna wasnât really a monster of a man. you thought he was a different, more softer person around you.
you shouldâve listened to the servants when they told you to not get tricked by sukunaâs special treatment, that he could easily manipulate you and make you do and act as he pleases.
âdo you want me to explain it in detail?â yumi crosses her arms over her chest as she looks down at you with a menacing glare. both of the concubines are loving that face youâre making. that face of defeat that youâre attempting to hide from them, âhow he held me and pleasured me until iââ
âenough,â you cut them off with your hands clenched into fists. you donât want to hear another word. youâre already feeling awful; already, not even an hour into your return. you can never catch a break.
you have an urge to throw things around. you already feel stupid, and if you decide to throw a fit, you bet that youâd feel even dumber. you truly do not know why youâre getting this worked up about it.
maybe itâs because of the special treatment. the delusional thoughts you have about your relationship with sukuna. you really thought that you two had something special. an unofficial romantic relationship, perhaps, or something that resembles it.
a secret, unspoken deal where youâre promised his loyalty in exchange for your body and soul.
although, those dreams have been shattered this very instance. youâre once again reminded of the animalistic nature of the being called ryomen sukuna.
he told you clearly that heâd never tie himself to someone, a human no less. devotion to one person? why would he.
âout of the way.â
you push the brunette and her sidekick the other way. youâre going to confront the man yourself. or at least, youâll try to. you can hear their sick laughs and chuckles fade into the background as you stomp your way towards sukunaâs chambers.
the other concubines seem to have gotten the gist. some peek their heads out of their rooms, grinning at you in victory. seeing your confidence slowly crumble and the realisation kick in - the realisation that your dear lordâs special treatment means absolutely nothing - is a sight for sore eyes to them.
you enter sukunaâs room and close the heavy doors behind you. you swallow the lump down your throat and try your best to look presentable.
no tears, you promise yourself. youâre not going to waste them on something like this.
âoh, itâs you, little one,â the familiar voice calls out. sukunaâs low and husky voice rings from his bed. heâs laid back against the many silky pillows, blowing smoke from his kiseru. he lays there like he doesnât care about your reappearance at all.
he eyes you up and down, âhow was your vacation, hm?â
sukuna asks like itâs the most normal thing to do. it seems like heâs trying to catch up with you, to ask you how youâve been enjoying your time alone, though it also seems like he couldnât care less at the same time.
âjust absolutely fine, my lord,â you reply with gritted teeth and an obvious hint of sarcasm. thereâs also a bitterness to your tone that doesnât go unnoticed by the pink-haired man. he frownsâthis cold greeting is not what he expected nor what he wanted to hear from your mouth. he expected you to at least smile at him like you usually do, but you didnât.
on top of that, you seemed to be annoyed with him. that unexpected attitude of yours made something inside of him snap. it irritated him somehow; the fact that youâre so comfortable talking to him like that . . . it reminded him of the recent inner conflict he had which you were the cause of.
one of his hands tightens into a fist at his side. his jaw clenches and his eyes narrow into slits. youâre physically in front of him, which means that heâs also about to experience those complicated feelings again. the same ones he tried fleeing from by letting you go on a break, and by physically taking his mind off you.
he did the latter by taking his frustrations out on his other women. the stress that came with the thought of him possibly liking a human, relieved by pure animalistic sex.
thatâs exactly what youâre upset about.
thereâs an urge inside of sukuna to act normal. to ignore those difficult emotions and just treat you like he usually does. yet, another part of him is trying to protect his sense of superiority by trying to push you away.
thereâs a war going on in his mind as he tries to calm himself down. youâve always had this effect on him and itâs becoming unbearable. he has to show you, no - remind you, that youâre nothing to him. you mean nothingânothing at all.
heâs the king of curses, youâre but a human. heâll need to remind himself of that obvious statement as well. heâs got all the power in this situation. not you.
you cannot rule over him or his mind.
âyou dare come back with an attitude? tch,â sukuna scoffs, nearly breaking the kiseru with his fingers as they squeeze around the solid material. heâs turning off whatever emotion present in his body. that doesnât belong there anyway. he wonât care if you cryâhe wonât care at all.
you notice the sudden change in sukunaâs tone as well. youâre sure youâre the reason for it. perhaps you crossed a boundary with how sassily you replied to him when he was simply asking you how your vacation went.
âmy apologies,â you murmur with a sigh. you try to avoid getting on sukunaâs nerves any further, yet when you remember the words from the concubine, how she implied that sukuna had given her the best night of her life when you were away, you get mad again.
your eyes have a fiery look in them. you donât want to get worked up. you donât have the right to. you were warned from the very beginning to not get attached to an asshole like ryomen sukuna.
youâre to blame for feeling like this. it couldâve been prevented if you just werenât so weak. if you just stayed away from him.
âdid you have fun while i was away, my lord?â you continue, your voice shaking a little. you need the confirmation. youâre sure sukuna knows what youâre referring to by now, especially because of the way youâre acting out of character.
the king of curses raises a brow at your question. you sound even angrier, even more pissed off. he tilts his head after taking a deep inhale of the tobacco from his kiseru. he tries to figure out what youâre hinting at, âwhat are youââ
and thatâs when everything fell into place. the dots connect.
sukunaâs jaw clenches. he realises that youâve found out about him receiving services from his other concubines while you were away. there could be no other explanation behind your sudden attitude. besides, he knows how his other concubines could be. they must have told you the moment you came back.
normally, heâd say that itâs none of your business. what he does is up to himâhe does not care about the consequences of his actions. though, seeing the slight hurt in your eyes, mixed with sadness and disappointment stirred something inside of him. he brushes that feeling away and stares at you intently, awaiting another comment. perhaps youâd cuss him out or bawl your eyes out in front of him.
either way, he promises himself that he wonât care.
sukuna is the king of curses. feeling bad for a human like you would only further tarnish his image, that image of superiority and power he has.
heâs a man of many needs. you shouldâve kept that in mind when you left him. he wanted to keep you with himâto hold you down and refuse to let you leaveâbut that would be another sign of weakness. one sukuna could not manage to show.
when you departed, he was irritated by the fact that he had no one to turn to with his needs. from simple needs like wanting your company to sexual needs like craving your body.
keeping you by his side or letting you go; both decisions seem to clash. either way, thereâs one thing heâs sure of, as much as he doesnât want to admit it: he missed you.
sukuna canât believe that he can feel an emotion like that. he canât accept that fact. thatâs why his irrational mind took overâhis dark urges that strived to prove himself to still be the same old ryomen sukuna. the monster that did not need a single soul. the ruthless man that did not depend on anyone else, especially not a human. a woman like you.
he thought heâd forget all about you if heâs surrounded himself with other women. but, he was quick to be proven wrong, and that only caused to enrage him more and more.
every time sukuna fucked a concubine, his thoughts still manage to drift away to you. to how he wished that it was you he was holding.
nothing hit the same with the other women and that frustrated him. heâd keep them around in his room after he fucked their brains out, something he never allowed a woman to do except for you, yet kicked them out again after a few minutes.
it doesnât hit the same.
youâre just different. your presence is soothing and calming to the chaotic soul of the pink-haired man. no one else could compare. that realisation made him feel inferior; a feeling he loathes.
sukunaâs red eyes glow. he hates seeing you look so defeated, but he cannot give in. if he tells you the truth, heâll admit his weakness. heâll admit that a human like you has completely taken over his brain. thatâs no good.
if he doesnât tell you the truth, heâll save face. heâll feel like himself again. his old selfâthe cold ruthless monster that he was before he met you. one without a soft spot for a human.
itâs an active dilemma thatâs running through his mind as he slowly blows out another cloud of smoke. you cannot guess whatâs going on behind those intimidating eyes staring you down.
sukuna tilts his head back and scratches his neck, smacking his lips as he makes his decision.
âyeah, i did. i had lots of fun.â
the words sting. they hurt you and make your heart ache in a way that makes you physically weak. you shouldâve expected that answer. your shoulders tense up and your fingers curl around the material of your kimonoâfeeling a sense of anger and betrayal.
you can see a ghost of a smirk on sukunaâs lips, which only reminds you of his nature. his nature as an independent, aloof and cold man who likes to play with his prey. a natural disaster that knows no emotion, that shows no mercy to anyone.
youâre naive for thinking that you could be the exception. all of those times with sukuna were confirmed to be but a lie in that moment. as your gazes meet, you can now easily interpret what that look in those red eyes meant.
âknow your place,â
thatâs what it means. youâre foolish, dumb. you take a deep breath to compose yourself after youâve been made out to be a total fool. you shouldâve listened to those warnings, you shouldâve known that you were getting played.
this is exactly what sukuna desired to achieve. to build up your trust, to make you comfortable enough with him, to think youâre special and that he wonât need any other woman other than you â just to shatter your pathetic delusions when the time comes.
âtsk tsk. no need to look at me like that,â sukuna scoffs, a mocking laugh leaving his lips. he can hear a small voice in the back of his head telling him to shut up and let you go, to not make it worse, but who is he to listen to that irrelevant thought? he can decide for himself.
âyâ werenât around, so the other concubines simply did their job by serving me,â he stares the other way, seemingly not interested by your presence anymore. his face is as expressionless as ever, âwhat do yâ think i keep them âround for, brat? for decoration purposes? hah, nah.â
another loud mocking laugh makes you nearly burst out in tears. you donât know if itâs in anger or sadness. you take a deep, shaky breath for the last time. you unclench your fists and nod, accepting the reality check youâd just gotten.
itâs a slap to the face, but it helped you get out of your delusions. the delusions that sukuna is a man capable of loving someone, even if it is just for a tiny bit. this visit confirmed that thereâs not an ounce of love or appreciation in that manâs body.
âiâm glad you had fun, my lord,â you answer after a bit of silence. you bow at sukuna in an attempt to stay polite while struggling with that inner turmoil. you donât even glance up at him anymore. you need another break already.
sukuna isnât dumb. you may think that youâre good at hiding your emotions, but youâre not. at least not around the king of curses. heâs spent enough time around you to realise that youâre going through a lot right now.
heâs the reason for it, yet he cannot bring himself to feel an ounce of empathy. he just looks at you with a blank stare, thinking that this is for the best.
âgood night then,â you add and turn around to walk out of sukunaâs room. your steps are slow as you secretly hope to be called back, like sukuna would do every time youâd leave his room after an intimate night. you just want him to tell you that this was a test of some sortâa cruel joke.
you want to feel like his favorite again. you donât want to be thrown away like this. you donât want to be on the same level as all the other concubines. you want to stand out to him.
unfortunately, you donât hear sukunaâs voice anymore. he lets you walk away without a care in the world. the heavy doors of his chambers close behind you and you feel your knees buckle. âfuck,â you cuss to yourself and clench your chest.
you lean back against the closed doors and try to regain your composure. crying can be done when youâre in your roomânot in the hallway where anyone could catch you. you donât want to give the other concubines more reason to bully you.
you drag your feet across the wooden flooring. all those times with sukuna, all those slight glimpses of his soft side that only youâre allowed to seeâ all of that is thrown into the trash.
you really shouldnât have gotten so attached to him on an emotional level.
meanwhile, sukuna is silently sitting on his bed, thinking back to what just happened. he usually never doubts his decisions, but this is an exception. why couldnât he just tell you the truth?
his mouth had moved before he could let his mind process all that he was feeling. a small part of him regrets it, though strangely, he couldnât feel any real sympathy for your situation.
sukuna drapes an arm over his eyes, clicking his tongue at himself. he just wants to let the situation go, though his brain isnât letting him to. the image of you standing at the edge of his bed, clearly hurt by his actions, flashes through his mind again.
he sighs. heâs sure that heâs going to forget about you soon enough. he needed an excuse to get rid of you for the sake of regaining control over his own being and he took the chance. he should be glad that he didâit meant that heâd be his usual selfâwith no weaknesses to look out for.
sukuna blows out another cloud of smoke through his mouth. as much as heâs proud of himself for not giving in to you, he canât help but let his thoughts wander again. youâre probably crying in your room. he knows youâre sensitive. you would always cry about the smallest of things and heâd hold you (feigning reluctance) until youâve calmed down.
he canât do that now.
well, he can, but he wonât. sukuna has made his decision today: itâs power and status over you. thatâs what itâs always been. you were but a toy he used to get a stronger grip on himself.
perhaps he simply is what people make him out to be; a monster. nothing more, nothing less.
#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader#sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#sukuna x you#sukuna x y/n#jjk angst#sukuna angst#ryomen sukuna angst
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the 5 times you did (not) love each other and the 1 time you did.
summary. as the title suggests. this one was a request! i hope you enjoyed my version of this anon.
pairing/s. poly!marauders + lily / reader.
wc. 4.1k
tags. hurt/comfort, angst, peter pettigrew mention, not proofread, like seriously, fluff, happy ending.
cws: brief mention of violence and blood.
note: i am alive?? crazy. i began this fic, whilst sick, around august, nursing the worst headache ever. i wrote the middle of this fic, sick. and i think it's only fitting that i finished this fic. sick... honestly, i did not proofread any of this, i just know i lowkey love it. after the first one-thousand words, i just spiral and become delirious, so i don't even know what happened here. my first request finished! yippee! and thank you all for 2k :< i love you all so much.
i.Â
SIRIUS BLACK did not love youânot even close, not even a little bit. Not even at all.
After Peter Pettigrewâs slight against his family, Sirius would never hold warmth or pity for the skittish mouse ever again. He was played for a fool. And, he did not know which betrayal had hurt more. Peterâsâor yours. (Had you known all along of your adoptive brotherâs plans? Did you not think for one second that Sirius would, without a sliver of hesitation, put himself in the way of a killing curse to keep you safe? Heâd have died before ever letting the fire in your eyes wither to ashes. Clearly, you did not share the same sentiment.)Â
He wanted nothing to do with you. Ever. And if the rat-bastard dared to show his face, not even Death would know where to put Peterâs body to rest. Sirius would keep him alive until he begged for deathâuntil the idea of living frightened him more than dying. And for youâbeholder of his heart, captor of his soul, and co-possessor of his mindâhe could only hope that you stayed far away. You had wrecked himâall of them.Â
He wantedâ
He did not know what he wanted.Â
For when it came to you, Sirius Black was reduced to a man wandering the desertsâmistaking clouds for water, and the sands for grass blades. You had ravaged every fiber of his being; consumed his every thought and word. The most ironic part of all was that if you had been the one standing thereâSirius would have let you Avada him. Dumbledore could scold him in the afterlifeâSirius could care less. Heâd have snapped his wand in half and asked someone else to fight you because Sirius had vowed from the moment he met you that he would never harm a hair on your head. He would never be the reason that tears stained your pretty cheeks.Â
Well, apparently, trust and promises were not worth a damn thing nowadays.Â
No, he did not love youâeven as you stood on the steps of Grimmauld, your hair ruined by the downpour of rain. Your lips bruised and bitten from a nervous habit Sirius had yet to break out of you.Â
âI didnât know, Sirius,â you whisperedâyour voice the only sound falling on his ears amidst all the thunder and lightning. He only saw you. âY-You have to believe me. If I knewâGods, I would have told Dumbledore in a heartbeat. Fuck. I thought you knew me better than that.âÂ
He thought so, too.Â
âDid you know?â Sirius began, taking a step forward and into the storm, a demeaning sneer on his lips. âThat when Voldemort stood in our home, your portrait was right behind him? That was all I could look at. If I had diedâyou would have been the last thing I saw.âÂ
You had not replied.Â
Sirius grit his teeth. âGo,â he said, voice hoarse.Â
âGo!â he yelled, grateful for the rain as it masked his own tears as you flinched from the sound of his voice. Not the thunderclap, the lightning strikeâbut it was him who scared you.Â
(But you had done so first.)Â
When you apparated away, Sirius crumbled to the ground and pounded his fists against the asphalts where you were moments ago, screaming and cursing until he saw blood flowing with the rainwater.
It was laughable, really. The way he did not love you.Â
It was not love that drove him to madness, pummeling Gideon Prewett into a bloody pulp for mentioning your name during a meeting with the Order. He had presumed you to be a Death Eater alongside your brotherâSirius instantly saw nothing but red. (He condemned Bellatrix, his own cousin, for becoming a madwoman. Yet, here he was, unraveled by the very thought of you. The very whisper of your name.)Â
But whatever it was that had turned him into a fool and a hypocrite all at once, it was not love.Â
ii.Â
JAMES POTTER had no love for youâmake no mistake about that. He loved love, and he did so fiercely and truthfully. But you and Peter had broken his trustâdefiled his loyalty from the moment your brother had brought Voldemort to his doorstep. (Did you know that as he begged and screamed for Lily to hide with their son, Harryâhe thought of you? For a fleeting moment, he saw your face, marked by fear and tear-rimmed eyes. And James knew straight away that he would spit on Tom Riddleâs bare feet if only to keep his family safe. If only to see you once more. Alive and well. But, you must not have thought the sameâif you had conspired with Peter to sell him and Lily out to the Devil reborn.)Â
The thought of you breathing was enough to keep James alive.Â
But, that was not love. It was a mockery of it.Â
No, he did not feel so much as a twinge of emotion for you. Not even as Mad-Eye Moody brought your limp body back to Grimmauld. It was not love that threatened the magic in his beingâthat simmered in his blood until the painted walls saw an indent of his fist. (âPoor thing,â McGonagall cooed as she pressed her palm over your forehead. Despite some of the membersâ growing distrust for you, you still took an Unforgivable in their stead. âWe can only wait. . . Four Cruciatus curses. . .â)Â
What more did James need to want to rip Peter apart limb by limb?Â
It was not love that rooted his feet by your side. Sitting hunched on a chair too small for his height, bags beneath his eyes, and the pale of his lips becoming noticeable to everyone who spoke to him.Â
âIâm sorry,â he whispered to you lovelesslyâhands desperately clutching your own. Sirius stood across the room, arms crossed over his chest, dagger-like eyes waiting for so much as a twitch of your finger. âIâm sorry.â
It was a plea this time.
He only hoped you did not ask him to love you. For James could give you the world, hand-pick the stars, and burrow his body deep beneath the ground if you had asked for itâbut he could not love you.Â
Everyone had told him not to hope that you would wake up. That your pretty eyes would not flutter open, and you would no longer look at him as you had before. But James was stubborn. He was selfish as he was stubborn. He did not love youâbut he needed to hear the sound of your voice. And James would take it any way that he could. The soft cadence of a whisper, or a rough utterance of a single word. Molly Weasley told him to accept reality for what it was. (âYou need sleep, dear,â the matriarch fussed. âThereâs nothing we can do. Look at the Longbottoms. . . We can do no more for this one as we had done for them.â)Â
In the still of the night, he left his reveries on the cold of your skin. âWake up,â he demanded.Â
âWake up or else youâre the traitor everyone thinks you are,â James hissed.Â
But his words held no heatâand his heart held no love for you.Â
Make no mistake about that.
Then, when you finally woke up, disoriented and throat parchedâa hazy recollection of the weeks beforeâJames made sure that no more than four people could enter the room. He did not care if a hurricane, or if Voldemort himselfâJames had faced him once already, after allâthreatened to break the door down. You were theirs to protect.
 (But not to love.)Â
âWe need to begin the questioning, James, you know that,â said Kingsley Shacklebolt, almost exasperatedly; weary lines written across his face. James would not allow even a toe beyond the doorway. An interrogation meant you had something to do with the attempted murder of James and his family. Whether or not you were innocent, James did not careâhe just wanted you safe.Â
(And a small part of him already knew that you were not your brotherâs keeper. Just as they had absolved Sirius of his familyâs sins. It would be unfair to not show you the same grace. But before his mind knew that, Jamesâs heart and soul had known the truth all along.)Â
He found Sirius gently tending to your every need, and already James knew that was Padfootâs way of begging for forgiveness. The ebony-haired man hung onto your every word. He winced when you flinched, and pressed his apologies to your forehead, rasping for a kindness he did not deserve. Not after what he did. How he turned you away and cursed your name. How they betrayed you.Â
James did not love you.Â
But what else could he call the manacles that bound his hands and forced him to his knees when it came to you?Â
Not. Love.Â
iii.Â
REMUS LUPIN could not bring himself to love you. But, he could not love Sirius, Lily, and James either. He was undeserving of such a privilege. But he was not allowed to love you; Remus could only hope that you saw even a shred of worth in himâto wrest each word from his lips and every breath from his lungs. But, he did not love you. No.Â
Because loving you meant he was to tell you of your brotherâs crimes. And Remus could not hurt you like that.Â
âP-Peter?â you had asked, wearing the eyes of a fretful sibling. Remus lifted his hand to tuck a strand of hair gone astray behind your ear. Bellatrix had done a number on youâjust as she had done to Alice and Frank. Remus was fairly certain that Sirius was off on a hunt for his cousin, his mind toyed with by the barbarity of war. What they could not do for the Longbottoms, theyâd wring themselves dry to do for you. After the Lestrangesâ attack, you suffered damage to your throat and memories. Remus could not bear to see you in such pain.Â
He could not give you love, but Remus would offer up to you his every limb, and the weary skin upon his bones.Â
âThey. . .â Remus grimaced. How could he act as the bearer of bad news? Heâd rather dive headfirst into shark-infested waters. Be anywhere else but here. In fact, Remus would rather snatch you away from the funereal walls, and hold you in his arms in the quietude of dawn, than be the one to bring anguish to your eyes. âTheyâre looking for him at the moment, love.âÂ
One question lingered in your eyes: Why?Â
Luckily, Sirius was always the better one at sharpening a blunt knife. âHe was a traitor,â he spat like acid. âA traitor to the Order. A traitor to us. Heâs no friend of ours. Not anymore.âÂ
But Sirius knewâbetter than anyone elseâhow difficult it can be to truly hate little brothers, especially once theyâve gone.Â
âNo. . .â You trembled, almost retching as you sobbed into your palms.Â
Remus held you then, the front of his shirt soaked in your tears, eyes firmly shut as you trembled and heaved in his arms. The sound of your guttural screams bounced off the four walls, and Remus had to bury his nose in your hair. You were alive. Safe. Breathing. But you felt cold as ice; an empty husk stripped bare for grief to take over. And Remus could do nothing but hold you. (He just hoped that wherever Peter Pettigrew was, Remus would not be the first one to find him. Otherwise, they would not be able to recover even a fingernail from his remains.)
âHush, love,â Remus whispered into your ear as you cried yourself sick. Mourning the loss of your brother, reeling from the betrayal of a bond that was supposed to be stronger than blood. Remus would make him pay, he vowed as much to you. No, Remus and the wolf in him did not know how to love. But he knew how to hurt. And, that, heâd gladly do for you. His body was for you to use as a shield, his soul for you to strip bare, and his heart for you to thieve and never return.Â
âDonât cry,â said James, a shadow cast over his frames. âNot for Peter. Never. Fucking bastard will get whatâs coming to him.â He laid on the vacant space of the bed, gently untangling your hands that were pressed over your heart. âIâll make sure of it.â
They all would.
But not because they loved you.Â
It was not out of love, Remus had to remind himself in the coming days, when he stayed diligently by your side as you recovered. Daily sessions with the best healer St. Mungoâs could offerâas if James would allow anything else. There were days your eyes would glaze over, your words rough and sluggish, and Remus would try his damndest to make you smile.Â
It was the least he could do.Â
For failing to protect you.Â
But that was not love.Â
(It was hope. Wretched, disastrous hope as he fell to his knees, and your name in between his teeth.)
iv.Â
LILY EVANS was a fighter in all the ways that mattered.Â
And from the very first moment she held Harry in her arms, eyes raking over his wrinkly, bloodied skin; all ten fingers and toes, her soft cries over his loud screamingâLily knew she would trade her life for his in a heartbeat. Little, lovely eyes that would soon see the world in his own time. Lily adored him. Cherished every tear, snore, and giggle. She knew then, that a motherâs love was entirely different from any emotion sheâd ever felt before.Â
This was proven the first time Harry had gotten seriously ill. A few weeks after the attempted murder on the Potters, Harry was ceaselessly cryingâscreaming, even, every nightâred-faced as he fussed every breakfast and dinner. Lily found herself at witâs end. Her protectiveness had gone up a hundred measures; wouldnât let anyone besides family or Madam Pomfrey see Harry. Yet, even with all the draughts and silly-flavoured syrups, Harry wasnât getting better.Â
âLily dear, you cannot actually be thinking about this,â worried Molly Weasley as Lily stood in front of your door, holed away in the room where you had been recovering for the last few days. It would be the first time she saw you since the incident. More than anything she was afraid. Frightened that you would look at her differently. Whether or not that fear stemmed from love, Lily was not concerned. âWe can call for another Healer from Mungoâs to have a look at Harry. . . Who knows what might. . .âÂ
Lily held Harry closer to her, lips firmly pressed, attempting to ignore the way his temperature was unnaturally high. âMight what, Mrs. Weasley?â She knew Molly was only talking out of concern, from a motherâs perspective at least. But she knew you better than anyone else. You would never hurt her, or Harry, that much she was certain of. And if you were the traitor everyone else was afraid of accusing you of, a sentence delivered by association to Peterâthen let the guillotine fall, Lily would carry your crimes for you.Â
She remembered ever-so clearly in her sixth-year, you with dreams glistening in your eyes. (âIâm going to be a Healer, Lils! Minnie said Iâd be a great one. . . I want to protect those I love. . . I know I can do it. . . Oh, I canât wait to tell Peter that Iâve gotten recommendations already to work at Mungoâs after graduation.â)Â
And Lily recalled at that moment, she had felt a different kind of emotion that she had never experienced before. It was not love, of course. Tuney said she was too young and too stupid to know what real love was. But, at sixteen, what else could describe the way her heart fluttered and the way her lips threatened to break out into a smile whenever you lit up talking about your future? (It was just a crush, young Lily told herself.)
Only to be crushed and cast aside in the face of the war, where fighters took their place at the forefront of the lines, mothers and children hid; healers stretching themselves thin to be here, there, everywhere; where traitors walked in plain sight.Â
âThere is no one else I trust more with my life,â replied Lily.Â
And that was that.Â
Lily skirted around Molly and opened the door to your room, where Sirius, James, and Remus all stood at attention at the sight of her and Harry. She ignored them, and headed straight to your side.Â
âHello, love,â she greeted with all the gentleness she was made of, a smile creeping up to her eyes as Lily watched you turn your head at the sound of her voice. Truth be told, she did not know what her end-goal was in coming here. But being by your side had always made life a little more bearable, like all the illnesses in the world could not bring her down. And so, her magic had instinctively summoned her person to you. She, at least, was relieved to see colour returning to your cheeks, though the red in your eyes had dulled the hues she adored so much.Â
âIs that. . .?â you croaked.Â
Lily nodded. âHarry, meetââÂ
One of the loves of my life, the most loyal and pure witch anyone ever has the privilege of meeting, someone I want to stay in my life forever.Â
Lilyâs smile wilted. âA friend.âÂ
Later, she would place Harry in your armsâher little hope embraced by her dreamâand Lily would wonder if it was by pure magic that Harry calmed in your presence.Â
For if love could hurt and destroy, could it mend and heal the broken as well?
But what a shame, for not one in that room carried an ounce of love for you.
(She would die for Harry, yesâbut she would live for you.)
v.Â
YOU did not love them, either.Â
The very idea, thoughtâinsinuationâwas absurd. (Why, they deserved much better than you, after all.) With hands that failed to protect them, were you even allowed to hold them anymore? Did your heart have the right to breathe for them? You had failed as a sister and a friendâhow much more would you have failed as their lover? Well, youâd never know.Â
Because you did not love them.Â
Merely wished them happiness and for the world to extend them kindness. For the sun to look brightly down on them, and for time to heal their scars and wounds. For if they were in pain, the earth would stop spinning. But such a request was not borne from love.Â
Surely not.Â
Because, then, that would have meant that it was love that teared you apart when Sirius cursed your name, when James turned you away, when Remus could not look you in the eyes, or when Lilyâfor all your history togetherâcalled you a friend.Â
The whole of you was made by the parts of them. Each memory welded into the crevices of your soul. From the moment you had all found each other in the same train compartment, same common roomâthere was a shift in the fates that bound all five of you together. (The ties were red, but the thread was not of love.) You did not believe in Professor Trelawneyâs talks of providence and destiny.Â
Because if you did, then why was the universe so cruel?Â
Fallingânot in loveâfor four people who could very much do without you in their lives. Lacking severely as a sister to the point you had not noticed your brother fading and fading away into the shadows.Â
Was love that unkind? That merciless?Â
Then, you did not want to love at all.Â
Oh, but magic or not, every creature on this earth selfish.Â
You were no different.Â
You wanted.Â
Oh, how you yearned.Â
âI LOVE YOU.âÂ
You barely had enough time to react before Sirius pressed his lips to the side of your head, arm covertly sneaking around your waist. The sound of the train whistling as parents yelled their goodbyes filled the station. You stood in the midst of the crowd, eyes never leaving one window in particular as you waved at Harry, now eleven-years-old and now off to Hogwarts.Â
âQuite a random thing to say, husband,â you murmured, leaning into his warmth. âWhat for?âÂ
âJust because,â he replied in turn with a fiendish grin. âWell, perhaps for choosing us, for choosing me despite all my fuck-ups. For existing. For being the beautiful, wonderful, kind, precious you. I could keep on going, my darling. Shall I compare thee to a summerâs day?âÂ
You wrinkled your nose, eyes rolling from fondness. âI love you too, quite unfortunately.âÂ
He only laughed and pulled you closer to him. âLetâs go home.âÂ
â
âI love you.âÂ
In the house built by new memories, warded by stronger protection charms, and filled with warmth and loveâJames said this to you each morning before he left for the Ministry, promoted after the war as Head of Magical Law Enforcement. Not one foot out of the door until he had showered you in kisses and the symphonies of his heart. James had always been loud, even in his time at Hogwarts. The war had not taken this part of him, and you figured James was too loud to let it be taken from him. He was unapologetically and unabashedly him.Â
And you had loved him fiercely for that.Â
âIâll be home early tonight,â he said, a quiet intimacy washing over the both of you. The early birds of the cottage. âWait for me?â
âOf course,â you answered without an ounce of hesitation, delicately chasing after his lips. âI love you. Be safe.âÂ
-
âI love you.âÂ
âAre you saying that to me or are you reading from the book?â you teased from where you laid on Remusâs chest, hours after James left for work, the afternoon bringing you two together in the living room. Lily was in the gardens, and Sirius was in the shed working on his motorbike. It was perfect. You felt the rise and fall of Remusâs chest beneath you, his heartbeat close to your ear. He was perfect. It was a miracle you had not fallen asleep to the tender lull of his voice.Â
âBoth,â he responded, hand coming up to trace the bare of your skinâa miracle you did not crumble or burn instantly from his touch.Â
You hummed. âThen, I love you, too.â Then, you grinned, lifting your head to stare up at him. âYou have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you.âÂ
And, oh, how photographs could not capture the beauty in Remusâs smile as his eyes regarded you with such fire.
âMy heart, my light, my desire,â Remus began, one finger ever-so softly tracing the curve of your cheek. âIn vain I have struggled, it will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.âÂ
â
âI love you.âÂ
Said Lily as she lied in your shared bed, red-nosed and her cheeks pale, sluggish. The Christmas holiday was generous enough to gift her with an unfortunate cold that had been going around the wizarding world. âBut, please, go,â she commanded weakly, gesturing for you to join Harry who was stood by the door. âItâs a lovely day outside for making snowmen with carrots as noses and snow angels. Not for taking care of poor old me.âÂ
You rolled your eyes as you sat by her side, swiftly pressing a kiss to her forehead. âAnd I love you, which is why I would rather much be here, taking care of the prettiest snow angel to ever exist,â you countered, bringing a spoonful of broth to her lips. âBesides, Harry here has something to tell you. Heâs made friends at school. One of them is Mollyâs little one.âÂ
âOh, you did?â Lily cooed, before sniffling weakly. âThatâs lovely, darling. Tell me all about them.âÂ
âThatâs not all, Lily mine,â you began mischievously as Harryâs eyes narrowed at you through his glasses. âThis friendship apparently formed after fighting a troll.âÂ
âYou what?â Lily croaked, emerald eyes shimmering with concern and near-dread.Â
âDid you really, Harry?â James popped his head in the doorway, clapping his son on the shoulder before ushering him inside the room. A spitting image side-by-side as they took the empty space by the foot of the bed. âGood boy. Father approves.âÂ
âOf course you would,â Lily shot at him weakly, melting when Sirius then entered the room and greeted her with a kiss to her cheek. âAnd where are you all coming from?â
âOutside,â announced Remus, tugging his tie from his neck. âSirius and I took a quick trip to Diagon Alley to get some things thatâll make you feel better, Lily love.âÂ
And as the snow fell outside, lazy winds against the window, your little family gathered in one room, there was one thing you knew for certain.
You loved them.Â
And they loved you.Â
a/n: i wrote all 4k words while sick. crazy. but anyway, i wanted to believe in love again so here i am. thank you all so much for being patient with me. i promise to do even better in the next fics!
#sunny's hp fics#marauders x reader#hp imagine#poly!marauders x reader#hp fluff#james potter x reader#remus lupin x reader#sirius black x reader#lily evans x reader#poly marauders#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders fluff#poly!marauders#marauders imagine#marauders angst#marauders fanfiction#marauders x y/n#marauders drabble#poly!marauders x you#x reader fluff#x reader angst#hp x reader#hp angst
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"Better?" "Much"
Dean Winchester x Female Reader
Summary: waking up next to Dean and getting ready with him
Notes: I promise I'll give Sam some love after this, I love the idea that Dean acts like a dad when he gets up, hacking, coughing, groaning, the whole nine yards. I wanted to thank you guys again for all of the support, you're all so sweet! đđ
warnings: cursing, dean and reader playfully argue, kissing, lots of fluff, reader goes to the bathroom while dean is in there, but I promise its nothing gross or weird đ
w.c: 1k
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The rising sun shone through a crack in the curtains of the motel room. You stirred awake, the light managing to hit you right in the eye. Dean lay next to you, softly snoring, drooling lightly and laying in a position that couldn't possibly be comfortable. You grimaced for him and the thought of how bad his neck was going to hurt when he woke up.
Sam was already awake, he still sat in his pajamas but he was sipping on a cup of coffee and had his computer open, researching as he typically did. He noticed you waking up and gave you a soft smile, not wanting to wake Dean.
You weren't exactly an early riser so you cuddled into Dean, burying your face into his side, trying to block out the light. You found yourself struggling to breathe and let out a sigh, knowing you weren't going to be able to fall back asleep.
Dean groaned as he awoke, grunting as his vision cleared and he noticed your face smushed into him.
âYou trying to smell my pits or something?â he said with a small laugh, his voice slightly hoarse from having just woke up
âLove the pheromonesâ you replied sarcastically and brought your head up to look at him.
His hair was tousled and he had pushed half of the blanket off the bed in his sleep but he looked handsome as ever. Your hair was a mess, the shirt you slept in was twisted around your body, and your sleep shorts were riding up like crazy but Dean still thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world, simultaneously enjoying how your legs and ass looked when your shorts rode up.
Both of you were wild sleepers, flipping around in the night, blankets and pillows being pushed off the bed, Dean waking up in a panic when you would jerk in your sleep, and you hitting Dean with your pillow when his snores would grow too loud. The two of you would go to bed cuddling every night and wake up with your arm sprawled over his face and his legs on your side of the bed. Neither of you would have it any other way.
You moved yourself so your head rested on his chest, he brought his arm around you and placed a kiss to the top of your head.
âWhat's our next move Sammy?â Dean asked, âyou found anything yet?â
âThere's signs of vampires in Carterville Missouri, itâll take us about five hours to get there though, so we should head out soon.â
âI can get us there in four, as long as grandma here doesn't have to pee every half hourâ he said as he motioned towards you.
âIâm not the one who needs to stop for snacks constantlyâ you defended âand since you want to be Kevin Harvick with how fast you drive, you can make up the lost time from my bathroom breaksâ
âWhy do you guys just wake up arguing?â Sam asked
âWe didnt, he kissed me then we started arguingâ you defended with a sweet smile
âYeah, come on Samâ Dean added
The two of you received an eye roll from Sam âgo get ready, we can leave in an hourâ he told both of you.
Dean sat up with a loud groan earning a response of âYou sound like a father and you're not even oneâ from you.
âWhat are you talking aboutâ
âAll dads sound like they're dying when they get out of bed, all that loud groaning and back popping makes me think you need to go to the chiropractor.â you told him
âAlright sweetheartâ he responded not even bothering to give in to what you were talking about, and gave you a kiss. You scrunched your nose after he pulled away.
âYou need to brush your teethâ you giggled
âSame goes for youâ
The two of you got out of bed and made your way to the bathroom, brushing your teeth at the same time. Dean was at it again with his noises, he was hacking and spitting like there was no tomorrow while he brushed his teeth.
âJesus, you dont have to kill yourself with the toothbrush you knowâ You told him after you rinsed your mouth out.
âTeeth wonât be clean if I don't brush em like thisâ he told you, muffled by his mouth full of toothpaste.
âOkay Dean, Iâm gonna pee while you finish upâ you said and sat down on the toilet, Dean gave you a nod with his toothbrush still dangling out of his mouth. You scoffed and then laughed at him, unable to take him seriously with his extensive morning routine.
âYou look so helpless when you peeâ he said
âWhat are you talking aboutâ you asked with a laugh
âYou just sit there like you're waiting for a bus, it makes me feel badâ he explained âat least I can stand up and put my hand on the wall or something.â
You shook your head at his observation, laughing at how ridiculous it was.
The two of you finished up in the bathroom and made your way to your bags to get changed. Sam went to the bathroom to clean up, having already changed. You opted for a tee shirt, jeans, and a jacket you had stolen from Dean. Dean put on attire similar to yours, adding a few more layers than you had chosen to.
Dean made his way over to you and kissed you sweetly, his lips lips plush against yours. He brought one of his hands up to the side of your head, toying with your hair with his fingers. He placed his other hand on your waist, rubbing his thumb back and forth along your hip. You brought your hand under his shirt, lightly scratching along his back, earning a soft groan from him. You knew he was a sucker for you scratching his back, always asking you to when the two of you laid in bed, or after he'd had a long day. You smiled into the kiss at the noise he had made. Your moment with Dean, that was much needed by both of you, was cut short by Sam clearing his throat, your face heated upon hearing him and you quickly pulled away from Dean.
âMy breath better?â Dean asked a grin playing at his face
âMuchâ you told him with a small smile, his minty taste still lingering on your lips.
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#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester fluff#dean winchester#dean x you#dean x reader#dean winchester x you#supernatural x reader#supernatural
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đŞđđđđđ
đśđđ
đđđ!đđđđđ đ đŠđđđđđđđ!đđđđ
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⢠+18 minors do not interact. Fluff, mentions of nightmares, cuddling, smut, cockwarming, caressing, age gap, established relationship etc.
đđđđđ đđđđđđđđđđ / đđđđđđđđđđ
divider by the talented @anitalenia đŠś
Lately⌠Logan has been seeking your arms during the nights. Youâve always been there to get him through the night be it a nightmare or a bad dream. He often woke up drenched in sweat, gasping for breath. Sometimes you took warm baths together to calm him down.. you loved sitting with your back towards his chest in the bath surrounded by warm water and his arms coiled around you keeping you close. His beard rubbing your cheek as he affectionally cuddled you. You didnât have to talk much.. this was your save place. Your made heaven.
Tonight you went to bed early, you found him smoking a cigar sitting on the edge of the bed watching the sky through the window. Warm nights like this.. it kept him awake. He was mostly alert to any danger upcoming your way.. you loved that about him. How he took care of you no matter whatâ
âLo..â you whispered touching his shoulder gently. He didnât respond but reached for your hand to caress it lightly. âCanât close my eyes..â he broke the silence softly. Without further talking you climbed to his lap wrapping both arms and legs around him keeping him close. âI love you..â you whispered resting your cheek on his heart. âLove you too kid..â he mumbled after taking a hit of his cigar blowing the smoke in opposite direction away from you.
When he finished smoking he wrapped his arms around you squeezing you tight in his arms his strength handy. âLo.. canât breatheâ you gasped with a muffled giggle against his chest inhaling his woodsy, whiskey scent. âCâhere princessâ cupping the back of your hair he pulled you up towards his mouth kissing you. You moaned softly into his mouth accepting his tongue as it was begging to climb into your mouth claiming you taking your breath away making your belly wake in butterflies. Your arms slid around his neck fingers stroking his greyish hair. You both sighed affectionally into the kiss which lasted another moment before breaking away. âBack to bed..â he kissed your forehead letting you go.
You climbed under the covers peeking at him from under them watching him take off his clothes. When he slipped under the covers next to you, he was bare naked making you blush. His strong hand pulled you at him making you squeal âLo!â He groaned burying his face against your neck you were sprawled on his chest, thigh hiking over his hip as he lied on his side. Hands skimming over your back, groping your tender flesh. Soon he was stuffing his cock inside of you, your wetness giving him a coat as he snapped his hips into you once, twice and then more and more watching youâ holding your cheek your eyes meeting. Lustful eyes of his, hooded gaze clouded in desire watching you as you shamelessly clenched around his cock trying to fuck him back but he was holding your thigh around his waist. His little girl you were, his young everythingâ you made it all better, his wounds, his heart âYour Oldman canât sleep princess.. need this heavy cock wetâ you mewled in response burying your face against his neck gripping his shoulders squealing as he battered his cock inside of your tight heat. âFuck fuck fuck..â he cursed breathlessly speeding up his thrusts until you came violently crying out his name tiredlessly your voice dying with a broken whimper âatta girl..â he growled slamming his cock in your wet heat few more times before coating your walls in his creamy spend. âDaddy..â you whimper snuggling close to him letting him slide into you even deeper. âYa? Gonna cockwarm daddy all night long and make his nightmares go away?â He whispered kissing your cheek wiping your tears away with his thumb. You nodded letting him snuggle closer to you, arms around you holding you close to him making sure his cock is planted and nestled inside of you all night long.
no more nightmares
-
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He laughed so bostrously, lips closing around his cigar while he did so, blue eyes not leaving yours as you got out your keys ready to enter your house, white picket fencing the only thing separating the two of you.
âThank you.â You smiled his way, ecstatic with the compliment. Youâd only been driving a little while so to hear how good he thought you were at parking made your chest swell with pride.
âJohn Price.â He spoke again coming closer this time, blowing the smoke from his mouth, head turned so as not to blow it in your direction. You gulped watched a single bead of sweat roll down the skin of his thick neck.
You have to blink yourself back to the present as heâs extending his hand to you over your side of the fence, only coming up to your waist.
You grabbed his hand, a little suprised with how hot it was, slightly sweaty too. You told him your name in return, cheeks flushing slightly, more than they already were from the heat of the day when he hummed approvingly repeating it like heâs testing it out so he can use it more often.
âGod itâs hot today ainât it.â The question was obviously rhetorical as the sun was beating down on the both of you as you spoke. It was so far what they called âthe hottest day of the yearâ and this time the weather girl wasnât lying. Youâd had to put sun cream on before you left the office because of how hot it was.
Thank goodness your office building had air conditioning because you donât know how you would have survived otherwise. As soon as you walked out the hot air was choking and the sunâs heat was awful after being in the nice cold all day.
âItâs better than it raining though.â John spoke again almost trying to fill the gap where he thought you may have commented.
âI donât know, I kinda like the rain and the cold. Itâs nice when you get to have the fire going and cuddling up on the sofa with an old movie or book, maybe some hot cocoa-â you began to ramble on all the things you like about autumn and winter. All the while John is watching with a smile on his face, picturing doing all those things with you.
Heâs more distracted than you are that thereâs an awkward pause when you stop rambling, heâs still in a trance while you stand there biting your lip nervously as he simply stares at you.
âDoing some gardening?â You try to break the silence to which he slightly jumps, eyes regaining their focus on you.
âYeah, thought Iâd do the front of the house up a bit, make it look somewhat presentable.â He chuckled looking back at his handy work, it didnât look half bad. The lawn was mowed and he had started to plant some seeds by the looks of it.
âLooks a lot better than my dump, I never have time for it.â You say with a laugh, glancing over your shoulder at the overgrown grass and dying flowers youâd planted last spring to try and making the place look better. Fail.
âYou work a lot huh? I see you coming and going most days. Barely ever home.â He tilts his head, arms folded over his chest bringing his cigar up to his mouth once more.
âI only get weekends off, and theyâre really the only time I spend at home if you donât count coming home to sleep at night.â You sigh thinking about how hard you had worked today, always taking on problems that maybe you should let others handle but then you wouldnât be paid as much as you get.
âIâm glad Iâm retired, but I must admit itâs rather boring.â He inhaled the smoke, a thinking look clear on his rugged face.
âYou donât look old enough to be retired.â You comment, not meaning to say it out loud. Your eyes widening once you realise you have.
âIâll take that as a compliment love.â He laughs, the corners of his eyes creasing when he does. His thick beard surrounding the way his lips curve up in smile. Your face burns and you definitely look like a tomato right now.
âI best go inside and shower off today.â You smile at him with a small wave before turning on your heal and heading inside. You slump against the front door cursing yourself. âStupid stupid stupid.â Heading upstairs you do exactly what you said you would, shower.
Thatâs why you donât hear the lawnmower turn on again, thatâs why you donât notice itâs right outside your house, thatâs why you donât notice that John Price is mowing your lawn as you scrub your white loofa over your legs. But when youâre done and you look out your bedroom window, your heart stops.
Your handsome neighbour, is cutting your grass in the hot sun, without a shirt on. He spots you staring a sends a wink your wayâŚ..that man will be the death of you.
#squishycheekanon#squishycheekanonanswer#asks are appreciated#captain john price x you#captain john price x reader#captain price x reader smut#captain price x you#captain johnathan price#captain price x female reader#captain price x y/n#captain price x reader#captain price smut#john price x plus size reader#john price x y/n#john price smut#john price x oc#john price x reader#john price x you#captain john price#captain john price x female reader#john price fluff#cod fic#cod fanfic#call of duty smut#call of duty price#call of duty fanfic
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ââââââăâ° KINKTOBER DAY 1: đđđđđ đđđđđ
title: poker face synopsis: luckily, mr. zero didn't knew you were a mugiwara. luckily, mr. zero fell for your bluffs. unfortunately, you never imagined it would be that hard to not fall for crocodile's charm. [3.1K] cw: mugiwara!fem!reader, strip poker, strip tease, public sex, cock crush, nipple stimulation, size difference, fingering (f!receiving), riding, biting, scratching, finger sucking, p in v, creampie, possessive behavior, mob boss meets a baddie, pussy so good he wonders about marriage.
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With a thick cigar between his teeth, Crocodile forced himself to smile. âFive of a kindâ, he dropped his cards on the table. âSeems like the house won. Again.â
Crocodileâs presence in Rain Dinners works to reinforce his reputation as a hero in this wretched island. Unfortunately, it also means Crocodile is tormented by the most boring clientele.
To watch someone gambling everything they own out of delusional hope and losing it all because of sheer mischance is only interesting the first few hundreds of times. Now, all Crocodile feels is disdain.
He curses those vermin that stole the joy of victory.
Murmuring complaints, two bettors left the table. The croupier stretched his arm, reaching for the cards left far away from him. As the cards were shuffled, Crocodile took in the chance to observe the tables nearby. Searching for chaos to be dealt with, such a common occurrence in a casino, an unusual sight stole his attention.
A long, thick, light pelted fur coat. Crocodile inhaled the smoke, holding it in. Admiring you with that coat over your shoulders, no one wouldâve imagined this is the middle of a desert. And still, you didnât break a sweat.
One of the bettors decided it was the right moment to thank Crocodile for his protection over Alabasta. He did his best to sound modest, heroic. To embody the last hope of this dying island. The moment a white blur entered his peripheral vision, Crocodile simply ignored the manâs existence.
With a hand over the chairâs top rail, you stared directly at the croupier. âMay I?â, you asked, voice sultry as the desert.
Crocodile took the cigar out of his mouth, releasing the smoke in the direction opposite from you. âMade just in timeâ, he moved his hand towards the croupier ready to start. âDo you know how to play, honâ?â
You took a sip from your glass, not bothering to answer him. Placing your coat over the chairâs rail, you reached inside its pocket and took the poker chipâs box. You left it open on the table, emerald dress moving on your body as you sat down and crossed your legs.
The box was filled to the brim.
Your lack of interest on him ignited something within Crocodile. Curiosity. Something far more interesting than gambling against weak bluffs. âNew to poker?â, Crocodile smiled devilish. The sort of smile that make pretty women like you forget about decency.
If only you had looked at him.
âNew to this islandâ, you answered, sounding as bored as Crocodile was before you got there. The way you danced around his question was enough for him to know you didnât want the others to think of you as an easy target. Usually, Crocodile would simply profit on it. This time, with you staring straight into his eyes, he couldnât care less about this game. âIs it worth?â
âIt will be.â
A promise Crocodile intended to fulfill.
Feeling his gaze burning your skull, to not smile was never so difficult. If you were weaker, you wouldâve laugh until your cheeks fell apart from your face. How funny. How alluring. Ah, Luffy really told you the truth.
Your life will be funnier around me, Luffy gave you the brightest smile you ever saw. Stroking your cheek, he cleaned the trace of tears. I will never let you get bored.
A Shichibukai stands before you, unable to see you as part of the threat he is so interest in dealing with. The man that sent thousands of bounty hunters after your crew, that forced Vivi to witness as unnecessary violence tore her nation in pieces, doesnât even know that youâre part of the group he wants to exterminate.
Good. That means the plan of distracting Crocodile has a chance of working.
Each bettor made an initial contribution for the deal to start. At every round, you raised the amount of chips. It didnât matter if others were dropping out of the deal or if Crocodile doubled the bet with no hesitance. You simply continued to bet more.
That was alluring. It told more about you than your pretty lips could. Youâre not here to make money. Youâre not here to waste it. Youâre here for amusement. And that Crocodile can give you any time.
âShowdownâ, the croupier called. âPlease, bettors, show your hands.â
The woman sitting beside you sighed, showing two pairs. Two bettors had dropped out, choosing to wait until the next deal. You placed your cards on the table. 4, 3, K, 10, 10. One pair. âDoes that mean anything?â
The first man to drop out chuckled. âOnly that you lost.â
Lost in the way your smile spread across your face, the croupier had to remind Crocodile it was his time to show the cards. âThree of a kindâ, he murmured. This time, he put no effort into acting as if he cared that he won. Crocodile just wanted to learn more about you. âDo you know the rules?â
âDoes it really matter?â, your bright smile was enough to enlighten the whole place. As the croupier changed the card sets, you gave him your solely attention. âThe best liar wins at the end.â
âNo surprise you havenât won yetâ, Crocodile smirked. He spread his legs, cigar between his fingers. His golden hook glistened, reminding you of the threat he represented simply by breathing. âItâs so easy to see right through you.â
But not to see how I stole all those chips from you, was what you thought. âSeems like a failure of mineâ, was what you said out loud.
With a movement of his hand, a waiter approached. Crocodile whispered into his ear; eyes still fixated on you. Intoxicated on his presence, you forgot to look away. What a tempting man. From then on, your glass never remained empty.
Deal after deal, you continued to lose just as Crocodile continued to win. Deal after deal, you continued to answer just as Crocodile continued to ask.
Until there were only you two left at the casino. You let go of your glass and closed the poker chipâs box, raising from the chair. âShould have expected a pirate to be a good gambler.â You took your coat, walking away from the table. âHave a good night, Crocodile.â
âOne last deal?â Crocodile was quick to offer. Desperately, you would add. âAnd then we call it.â
You raised the empty box. âI have nothing left to bet.â
And at that, Crocodile saw his last chance of amusing you. âThen letâs bet everything we have.â
Sat down again, chin supported by your palm, you frowned. The wine had started to affect you both. âAnd by that you meanâŚâ
âEverythingâ, Crocodile spread his legs, resting his hook on his thick thigh. You told yourself he was begging for you to stare, but you werenât that sure of it. âEvery chip on this table. Everything on our bodies.â
As he closed his mouth, a part of Crocodile feared his proposition would offend you. It doesnât happen often, but there is a chance he misread your signals.
âIâve been eyeing your rings since I sat hereâ, you wondered out loud. âJust as you been eyeing my dress.â
But to be so straight to the point⌠Crocodile wasnât quite expecting that. It was what he wanted, but to see how you two were connected made harder for him to breath.
Then you sighed.
âAs tempting as it is,â and you were standing again. Crocodile hated to see that. He would hate even more to see you leaving. âIt is also getting late. Like I said, Iâm new to this island.â
âYou have nothing to fearâ, Crocodile bargained. âNot when Iâm around.â
âBut you wonât be around on my way back to the hotel.â
âThen stay hereâ, he offered. You arched an eyebrow. âI donât intent on letting you walk away that easily. Iâm a pirate. Iâm used to taking what I want for myself.â
For an eternity, you both stared into each otherâs eyes. A silent negotiation. His final offering, your final chance of doing the right thing and walking away from danger. You could see his very soul. How it burned just beneath the surface. Crocodile felt the same heat coming from you.
The croupier forced a cough, remind you of his presence. It took much of his strength for Crocodile to not kill him right then and there.
âShuffle the cards and leaveâ, you ordered.
He obeyed. Quickly. You both took a look at your cards sets. A smile died within you. A smirk grew on Crocodileâs face. The moment the croupier closed the exit door, Crocodile showed his hand.
Crocodile looked even bigger than he already was, filled with the confidence of a winner. âFour of a kind.â
Dropping your hand on the table, you were the winner he believed to be. âRoyal flushâ, you smiled. âPretty sure thatâs the highest since weâre not using any wild cards.â
Shock was a good look on Crocodile. After analyzing your cards, his gaze returned to you. âYou said you didnât know how to play.â
âOhâ, you drank the last sip from your glass. âDid I?â
And at your answer, all he could do was laugh. Crocodile ran his hand through his black hair. âYou hustle meâ, he whispered. Crocodile wasnât able to get rid of this genuine smile.
Your laugh was real too. It made Crocodile breath in your scent, get drunk on the sweet sound coming from you. Not a bluff, not an act. It was real, and it only made you more beautiful. âAnd now you have a debt to pay.â
His face darkened, reminding you of who he is. You hustled Crocodile. You hustled Crocodile. You never thought of yourself as a stupid woman, but here you are. For fucks sake. Luffy really is rubbing on you.
Crocodile bended over the table, his broad shoulders creating a shadow over you. His hand grabbed your chairâs arm, his hook moving your chin upwards. A strand of hair fell in front of his orange eyes, and looking into them you felt like a powerless prey about to be ravished.
Face lurking inches above yours, Crocodile smiled devilish. A smile that made you forget about decency, focusing only on the promise of more of him. More of the man that wants to kill you. âEnjoy the showâ, Crocodile whispered.
His blue scarf was the first to be throw away, and neither of you cared about where it would land. His long fingers worked on the buttons of the rumpled black-striped vest, so slowly you almost took it off of Crocodile by yourself.
The peach shirt beneath showed a portion of his wide chest and instead of finally getting rid of it, Crocodile held the leather belt around his waist.
He had so much fun teasing you, admiring how you couldnât look away. A man as handsome must feel entitled to the silent praise. He really thought he was the one in charge, didnât he? And for long enough, Crocodile was.
Youâre a lot of things, but youâre not patient.
Leaning against the chair, you raised your leg. The silver heel brushed against his pants, from down on his ankle until the insides of his thigh. And when your painted nails shined right in front of his crotch, you forced your feet against it.
âStop playing around.â Cocking your head, eyes explored his still covered up body. âDonât make me wait.â
Crocodile grabbed your ankles, calloused hand stroking softly your skin. It wasnât a rough touch, but not less possessive because of it. You put more pressure, making him groan. âYou are insane.â
âAnd why is that?â
âAnyone else would fear meâ, Crocodileâs voice reminded you of velvet and sharp knives. It lingered on your ears. âAnd here you are. Demanding more.â
You sighed, fingers brushing against your lips. That voice⌠it was your last straw. Fighting his hold, you put your foot down on the ground. You grabbed his shirt, pushing him back until Crocodile sat down on his chair again.
He opened his mouth as you sat down on his lap, but you gave him no time to do anything. âYou talk too much.â
Holding the chairâs top rail as leverage, you dive into him. Tooth biting his lower lip, tongue forcing a passage into his warm mouth. Your free hand found a spot on his large neck, bringing Crocodile closer to you. Instead of waiting, you took what you wanted for yourself.
Just like a pirate would.
She isnât fragile, Crocodile thought. She wonât break.
Sinking into you, Crocodile forgot about self-control. He simply ravished you, just like you demanded of him. A wild animal and nothing more. Exploring your mouth as if it was his to control, hand grabbing your soft skin without a care about finesse or decorum. Crocodile pressed his hook against your chest, enjoying how it didnât stop you from moving as you wanted to.
You got him out of that stupidly tight shirt, hands scratching his chest as your hips moved on top of his crotch. He forced you down, putting your whole weight upon himself, and ripped your emerald dress into pieces with his hook.
âYouâll pay for this one.â
It was a complain, but your fingers working to unbutton his pants made clear you couldnât care less. His kisses travelled to your neck, tongue leaving a trail of drool on your shoulder, mouth closing against your nipples. Your fingers intertwined with his hair, encouraging Crocodile to continue.
âI will get you anything you wantâ, he said, voice muffled. He couldnât get away from your body to speak. âYou burn hotter than the fuckin desert.â
No shame, no hesitation. Freed from his pants, you licked your palm before grabbing his cock. You pumped him with zero delicacy, thumb pressing against the dark, sensitive head. Just like everything in Crocodile, it was big enough to make you wonder.
As if he could read you mind, Crocodile slid his hand into your panties. Long fingers explored your lips, precise with every movement. Thumb pressing against your clit, two fingers against your wet slit. His hook brushed against your thigh, arm locking around you to press you down on his fingers.
Your loud moan embarrassed your very soul, but all Crocodile did was laugh. His teeth closed around your neck, biting hard enough to make you whimper. Thatâll mark you for sure. âRide me, honâ.â
With your nails deep into his back, you stretched yourself on Crocodileâs fingers. You bit his earlobe, brushing your face against his as you speed up your movements. In your hand, his cock throbbed. Crocodile was leaking, burning in the same way you do.
âTake what you wantâ, you whispered against his ear. âFuck me already.â
It happened so quickly, you barely understood how he moved. A second before you were on his lap, two fingers deep into your hungry cunt, lips around his ear. Then you were sat on the table, poker chips falling on the floor, Crocodile standing between your legs.
A fucking monster.
Crocodile took his drenched fingers from you, and wasted no time before sucking them clean. He grabbed your thighs, exposing yourself from him. âSheâs deliciousâ, Crocodile stared at your pussy. His fingers pulled your lips apart. âWill get me addicted to her.â
Using your legs, you got him even closer to you. Crocodile grabbed your hair, pulling you into a messy kiss. Fighting against your tongue, he fit the head of his cock into you. You moaned into his mouth.
Moving your heels against his thighs, you forced him inside of you. A stupid decision. Your head collapsed against his shoulder, the entirety of his length touching all the right places. So good, so right, so⌠much.
Crocodile wasnât in that much of a better situation. Eyes closes tightly, lips hanging open as a deep cry escaped. So wet, so warm. Moving slowly, Crocodile chortled. He had no control over his mind anymore.
âDonât you dare stoppingâ, you manage to say. âJust⌠fu-fuck, just like that.â
Deep thrusts as his fingers worked on your clit: Crocodile wouldnât dream of doing anything other than you wanted. He could feel your drool gathering on his shoulder. How your fingers were deep into his forearms, or how the hold of your legs around his waist weakened.
All Crocodile wanted was to make you as addicted to him as he already was to you. To get you to scream his name, begging for more and more. He wanted you to take from him. To get what you wanted. And Crocodile wanted everything you could give him.
Feeling waves of pleasure washing over you, mind empty as a white canvas, you tilted your head back. Eyes half-open, you admired him. His raw lips, face covered in sweat. Marks of lipstick all over his chest, just as deep nail marks and surface scratched. You looked down, watching as he entered you.
âYou are worth way more than eighty million.â
Crocodiled bended, tongue playing with your aching nipple. âAfter my head, honâ?â, he sucked on them. You stroked his hair, enjoying how primal Crocodile looked.
âDo I look insane?â, you moaned.
Crocodile looked into your eyes, face near yours. You placed your arms around his shoulders, but he held you in place. Crocodile simply looked at you. As if there was something new, something he never saw before.
âYou doâ, Crocodile whispered. It felt so intimate. For a moment, you werenât being fucked in an empty casino. For a moment, you two were sharing a secret. âYouâre perfect.â
You melted against him. Lost on your orgasm, you unlearned how to breath. The fact you couldnât think didnât stop Crocodile from kissing you. As you closed around him, Crocodile reached his limit. Tooth deep into your throat, he marked you again.
Tears formed behind your eyes, throat aching as you finally breathed again. You laid your head on his chest, feeling it rising with his unregulated breathes. A firm hand held your waist, his nose stopped in the union of your shoulder and neck. His biting hurt so good, just like your scratches on his skin.
When Crocodile opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was his hand holding onto the table. He looked at the fours rings you said caught your attention. And he saw how there was only one finger lacking a ring.
Insane, Crocodile thought. Sheâs making me insane.
As his hips moved away, a cry left your throat as he emptied your pussy, your legs finally stopped working. Crocodile took his cigar from the ashtray, smoking it for a few seconds. When he released the smoke, you grabbed his chin and made him face you. Inhaling it, you closed your eyes.
Not a second after you let it go, his hand and hook slid beneath your thighs. Effortlessly, Crocodile took you from the table. Your shaken legs closed around his waist as he carried you. âWhat you doing?â
Crocodile finally looked into your eyes again. He smiled, and it was genuinely. âTaking what I want for myself.â
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One of my patients used to be a Big Deal Specialist in the city and you can just TELL heâs SEETHING that no one out here is even qualified to understand what he did, much less how important he was. Heâs also terrified of death. Itâs both annoying and really sad. Like, sir, I hate to break it to you, but no amount of knowledge will protect you from the ravages of time. Itâs a special kind of hell to know the stages of various fatal diseases intimately. What is it going to feel like when itâs my turn? How do doctors want to die? Suddenly, quietly. Slip away painlessly in my sleep. But how likely is that? Not very. More likely Iâll get cardiovascular disease or cancer, the greatest killers of our time.
He was so afraid of cancer he had an organ that wasnât cancerous removed just in case. He talks down to me as if Iâm his student, and who knows? Maybe I was. He was in the same city as me, and they were forever dragging Big Name Doctors in to teach us things. Maybe I learned how to elicit Achilles tendon reflexes from him.
But mostly I find myself a little scornful. Who lives without the shadow of death? Who doesnât think about death all the time? When you die, life is a round thing, finished and whole. What will your life look like when God holds it in the palm of his hand?
Also donât fucking call me by my first name unless Iâve specifically said you can. I donât GIVE that permission to patients, except for my mentally ill trans and queer patients. If I wanted to be disrespected by an older man I would have married young.
You do not have time. This important doctor who based his whole life around his importance lived as rich and full a life as anyone. And now heâs clinging to it, leaving fingernail marks on the walls on his way out. No one has time. There will be a moment when youâre dying when you think, I would give anything I have to be back in that moment. Any ordinary moment. Taking the dogs out to go potty. Browsing at the grocery store. When youâre being crucified on a hospital bed, dying and aware of it through the morphine, you would give anything you ever possessed to go back and have one more agony-free afternoon. Sit on a curb or a stoop. Walk through a park. Hug your spouse. These tiny fragmentary moments that we are constantly sliding through, tobogganing past at high speeds, these are what will be our life when our life is over.
I am accountable to that self. To the dying me. What did I do with this gift and curse? I donât believe in God, but I know that I will die, and I have watched enough dying people by now to know the kinds of things Iâll think about. I want to make that me proud of what Iâve done and how Iâve spent my life. She will be a harder judge than God, and I want her to look at this one little life and think, yes. I did what I meant to.
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"Please- please-" you raggedly breathe, knees scraping against the hard floor as Satoru dragged you by your wrist, a soft whimper escaping your lips. You had no idea why he had gotten so angry. You have been nothing but good. You're forced to stand up next, hard grip on your hair sure to give you migraines. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry I don't understand-"
This is the first time Satoru has been so silent, it terrifies you, the very marrow of your bones. He is big, tall, looming and so unwavering when he wants to be. Your hurt and panic breaks into a sniffle, lips parted to utter what he'd call a pathetic excuse of an apology. "What did I say, when I said I would be okay with you going out?" He raised a brow, and your pupils wavered in the bone-chilling coldness of his tone. Harsh blue eyes and pursed lips ready to attack his little prey. "Yo- You- you-" Fuck, you're stuttering. Just like you always do when you're scared and panicked. "Yo- You- you-⌠what. Did. I. Say?" Satoru hums, after mocking your tone.
You sniffled, "s-said to me to not go out apart from the estate premises."
"Do I need to make sure you listen to me in a different way?" For Satoru, it's simple. You have tried to run so many times that his patience has worn out, the constant fear of you going away is making him the monster he is now. The outside world is filled with curses, and bad things. You, are a non-sorcerer and you should know better. Besides, after today's incident. He is ready to do anything.
"Why the hell were you outside then?" He yelled, Satoru⌠doesn't really yell. The problem is, a special grade spirit was sighted near the store you decided to go see for yourself. While that's something rare, it's increasing his anxiousness a tenfold. What if you had been there, you had been a bag of fucking bones! "I just- wan' wan' wan'ed you know- I just-"
"Speak to me properly or I will break you in ways you can't take. Wouldn't let you walk for days." That causes you to cry out, why is he overreacting so much! Christ! He already has you here, rotting, against your will. You sobbed, heart racing and breaths shallowing.
Satoru was⌠tolerable⌠you wouldn't call yourself the unluckiest person in the world until today. He had abducted you, but he was never⌠this.
"Canât talk to her or she will have a FUCKING panic attack." His jaw grits, holding you by the neck and pinning you against the wall. Your hands instinctively hold his wrist, but they're meek, sweaty with fear, and powerless. "If I see you step out again, I will kill everyone you hold near since you love watching me helplessly try to make you compliant, without hurting you, no?" Without hurting you⌠yeah right.
You nodded, "W- Won't step out." It's getting harder for you to speak with every second, eyes losing focus and fight or flight kicking in. Satoru's harsh expressions are blurring out, you were passing out.
And you do, fall limp against him. His feet impatiently tapping the floor once he sees you collapse. Another reminder of how you could die in an instant and leave him like Suguru did. A soft sigh escapes him once the throbbing headache kicks in. The high adrenaline calming down and kicking in with brutal headache. He lets you fall on the floor, ignoring the slight bruise in your head at the impact. You should know better. At least this is keeping you from not fucking dying.
He walks away to get the medication for his head, looking at himself in the mirror. He doesn't⌠look like himself. He leans in, watching the colour of his eyes greying. Something's wrong. That's when it kicks in.
Yandere Satoru was influenced by the same special grade curse he had killed. Why else were his thoughts so messy? You had escaped so many times but he always thought you'd just⌠understand one day.
A cold blood rushes through his spine once his cloudy thoughts clear up, and the idea of you passed out on the cold flooring floods him. Satoru has never been more quick to pick you up, cradling you close. Some part of him is happy, you wouldn't run away anymore. Another part of him is unsure if it's him truly thinking it, or if it's the curse's energy tampering with his own. A small part of him wants to die for putting you through this. Satoru Gojo needed to figure this out.
And then⌠he needed to build his relationship with you from scratch once he finds out what you did go out to buy. There were ingredients of his favourite Kikufuku. You were trying to make him⌠Kikufuku.
The small part of him that wanted to die isn't so small anymore. Months, if not weeks, it will take months to get you to love him like this againâŚ
#ANGSTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#yandere jjk#yandere gojo#yandere gojo x reader#yandere jjk angst#jjk angst#gojo angst#gojo x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen angst
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Can I request headcanons for Dick, and Jason reacting to his gn crush asking him as they're so worried (as his hero persona) if he has seen him & described him while not knowing his secret identity?
Jason wanted nothing more than to tell you to go home, that it was not safe for you to be out this late at night and worried half out of your mind.
He just wanted you somewhere heâd knew you would be safe or could get to in quick timing should something ever happen, which was why when you tried calling his -red hoodâs- name, he tried to ignore you but found himself unable to hear you cry out in desperation any longer and looked at you silently as you got closer to him.
âIâm sorry to bother you but Have- have you seen my friend Jason?â You ask with tears in your eyes.
âThereâs a lot of Jasonâs in Gotham sweetheart, youâre going to be more specific.â He replied and curses himself for how harsh he mightâve came across. Heâll punch himself later for being a dick to you later.
You dig a hand into your pocket and drew out a picture of yourself and him the night before -unknown to you- he was told about tonightâs patrol. Jason has no clue why you had that moment photographed, nothing special happened other then you two hanging out like you usually did, but knew he was one to talk when he had photos of you and him saved on his phone when he was feeling the need to see your face.
âHeâs six two, male, dark hair with a patch of white in the front, beautiful eyes that have specks of a mystical looking green, almost like their glowing half the time- Iâm getting off track sorry. Itâs- Itâs just Iâm worried about him as he promised to text me when he got home, but he never did and Iâm scared that something has happened to him.â You reply to the intimidating vigilante who looked as still as a statue.
âI canât loose him.â You continue as tears streak down your face as your mind poisoned itself into thinking that Jason was dead or slowly dying in an alleyway or an abandoned warehouse and you couldnât get to him and it killed your in ways you couldnât describe. âPlease, I know youâve probably got better things then to search for a mission person but-â you pause to catch your breath when you felt as though your chest was being crushed slowly- âI donât know who else to go to for help.â You finished, biting down on your wobbling lower lip to prevent another sob from escaping as your eyes blur with tears.
Jason, feeling his heart break the second he saw tears, remembered where he was and who he was in that moment and brought a hand out towards you to place awkwardly on your shoulder, giving it a tight reassuring squeeze as he struggled to not admit to everything then and there if it meant soothing your heart. âI shall try my best to help you find your friend, until then you should get off the streets and head home, the nightlife of Gotham isnât for everyone.â
âWhat about you?â You asked him, wiping away your tears with the sleeves of your shirt.
âI do it so no one else has to.â Jason or Red Hood replies softly and to wasnât until now that you felt a sense of familiarity from the vigilante, but waves it off as some sort of projection you were putting on him in place of Jason. Why? Maybe youâd were in need of reassurance from your friend but couldnât get that when you were unsure as to where he was without feeeing the worse.
So you look for the next best thing who happened to be a vigilante strapped to the nines with artillery, built like a brick shit house, wears a ruby red helmet and most likely six two, pushing six three with his boots.
âThatâsâŚâ
âSad? Pathetic? Iâve heard it all-â
âBrave.â You said interrupting him as Jason felt his heart pick up at your appraisal. Your kind words often took him off guard more often than not but it was something he loved about you more than anything. âAdmirable even but you should look after yourself.â You added, struggling to form a smile and Jason wanted nothing more then to hold you in his arms and tell you he was okay, but knew that heâd be putting you in more trouble than not if he did such a thing.
âCanât promise anything in this line of work Iâm afraid,â Jason said, âbut I promise to try and find your friend, no matter what.â He adds and finds himself smiling behind his mask when you gave him the first genuine smile of the night.
âThank you red hood, thank you.â You cried as you lunged towards him and hugged him tightly, a sense of relief flooding your system almost immediately when you were in his arms. Jason on the other hand just wanted the night to end so that he could get out of his attire and sneak over to your apartment, just to show you that he was okay.
âDonât sweat it.â He mutters under his breath, sometimes hating the life he lives if it meant worrying you half to death.
Dick:
âNightwing!â
Dickâs head moved fast at the sound of your voice, something he has just noticed himself doing recently, and felt the need to drop everything just to make sure you were okay.
âThatâs my name, hey are you okay? You know you shouldnât be out here at night. Itâs not safe.â He tells you as he crosses his arms over his chest.
âI know that but I was looking for my friend.â You said to him.
âAnd whoâs your friend, maybe I can help.â Dick replies, wanting to do anything he could in his power to keep you out of danger however he could. He didnât want you to do something reckless and end up getting yourself hurt or even killed over it and he wasnât anywhere near to prevent it from happening.
âDick. Dick Grayson.â You told him and Dick felt his stomach drop. Him, you were looking for him? Why? âHe hasnât answered my calls or texts recently and Iâve gotten worried that something mightâve happened.â You added as you showed him -nightwing- a picture of himself and Hayley from a couple of days ago. He didnât know you had taken the photo but the way you did made it look like something taken by a professional photographer.
âAnd so your best course of action was to take to the streets of a dangerous city filled with criminals and gangs alike in hopes of finding him?â Dick asked rhetorically.
You shrugged, never having gave your plan any deeper thought since making it to realise how dangerous it mightâve been to wander Gotham at the dead of night, where crime was most likeliest to be committed. âThat was the idea.â
Dick sighs. âNo. What youâre going to do now is go home and leave to finding your devilishly handsome friend to me.â
âBut thi-â dick placed his hands on your shoulders and flashed you a reassuring smile. âI promise to give your friend a right good scolding for ignoring your texts and calls and to not worry you so oftenâŚjust let me take it from here, okay?â
You look at nightwing and found yourself trusting this man more than youâd ever have trusted anyone else in your life and sighing. âOkayâŚI just didnât want to bother you-â
âAnd youâre not bothering me, not at all.â Dick reassured as he rubs your shoulders in a way that felt weirdly intimate between strangers whom have never met before. âI know Gotham like the back of my hand. So Iâll be able to narrow down the places where your friend might be and have him at your doorstep by morning. I promise.â He finishes lowly as he stares you deeply in your eyes.
âOkay. I shall leave it to you.â You told him and dick felt relief in knowing that you were going to be safe and away from all harm. He hated that he was the reason youâd risk doing something such as searching Gotham for him at the dead of night, but heâd rather have you safe then do something risky.
#dc imagine#dc x reader#dc x you#dc fanfic#dc fic#dc comics x reader#dc x y/n#dc fanfiction#jason todd imagine#jason todd fluff#jason todd x reader#jason todd imagines#jason todd x y/n#jason todd x you#dick grayson x y/n#dick grayson x you#dick grayson imagine#dick grayson imagines#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson fluff#red hood x you#red hood imagine#red hood x reader#red hood imagines#nightwing x y/n#nightwing x you#nightwing fluff#nightwing imagines#nightwing imagine#nightwing x reader
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Tie's and Trends Miguel O'Hara
Summary: You saw a trend and wanted to try it on Miguel...
Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader
Word Count:
Warnings: MDNI 18+ ONLY, Smut, edging, porn with plot, PiV sex, Miguel begging, Switch reader, Switch Miguel, Cream-pie
A/N: This was kind of requested but heres the original post where it all started...
"Miguel! Can I do this to you please!" You ask on your knees begging to do this TikTok trend with him.
He stares at your phone again and you can see the way his mind is racing. Moving like Clockwork.
"I don't know Bebita." He runs. his fingers through his hair. Little did he know you were making those cute puppy dog eyes you know he couldn't resist.
He finally looks down to you still on the floor and see's your face. He mentally curses himself and out loud.
"Mierda, You little-" Before he could finish his sentence your smiling, getting up and sprinting to go find a ribbon.
You. already knew what the answer was because of his reaction. When you finally come back with the ribbon he is staring at you with a look you've seen time and time again, but did you care? Nope!
"This is so stupid." He says as you tie the ribbon around his arms. His arms were a lot larger than others so you needed a slightly longer ribbon.
Once you finish tying it, you step back and observe your man. He looks so cute, yet extremely hot with those bulging veins in his arms.
You observe his hands and ten move down to the sweatpants he's wearing. He always wore sweatpants to tease you.
He knew you couldn't stop looking. Every 5 minutes you tried to at least get one glance of down there before he caught you.
But now? He was dead staring at you with his beautiful brown eyes. That red tint sparkling in the light.
"Miguel..." You whimper. It was supposed to come out nice and clear but more thoughts entered your head.
Miguel sits down and spreads his legs as if he alrfead knows what your about to ask.
"C'mere princess." He whispers motioning to his thigh. You walk over and sit on his thigh. He jolts his leg slightly to tease you.
"Miggy?" You whine out. He raises and eyebrow and smirks. "Yes mama?" He asks.
"Can ride you p-please." You squeak out. You fiddle with your fingers and look down trying to hide from his intense gaze.
"Go on baby..." He replies. When you look up at him a surge of confidence bolts down your spine and you feel the urge to become dominant.
"Your keeping the tie on. And No touching. I mean it." You sday pulling down your pants. He pulls his down halfway, without breaking the ribbon.
You pull them down to his ankles and remove his boxers. His semi-hard cock springs out and soon stiffens at the cool air.
You rub your hand up and down on his cock making precum leak out from the tip.
You quickly lined yourself up with his dick and slid down on him. You moaned out as you felt his huge cock stretch you out. He throws his head back in pleasure dying to touch you.
He knows he could break out of this ribbon but for you and your wishes, he has decided to keep it on until you say otherwise.
"Yea? You like that Miguel?" You ask as you roll your hips in that way that has Miguel cumming in seconds.
"y-yes, oh fuck... Meirda my love!" He says tightening his fists in the sheets.
"You gonna cum for me Miggy? Huh baby?" You taunt bouncing on his deliciously huge cock. You feel him all in your stomach.
You move your hand close to his throat as you roll your hips, lifting your hips and sinking slowly back down on him.
"Please mama, let m-me cum. Please? I-I've been good." Miguel whimpers out. His eyes wide and glossy.
You nod your head and he suddenly rips out of the ribbon dying to hold you while he shoots his delicious load inside you.
He flips you over a fucks into you to keep his load in. Something animalistic emerges from him as he roughly thrusts into you.
You cry out before you orgasm comes rushing through you. You scratch at Miguels back leaving red fresh marks.
"OH Fuck Miguel! Yes, give it to me please!" You cry out. He gives you what you want. He helps you ride out your high before pulling out.
He watches as his cum drips from your abused pussy and admires you in your fucked out state.
"I hated that." Miguel speaks out into the silence. You look up at him and prop yourself up on your elbows.
"Too bad, we're so doing that again." You say with a teasing smirk on your face.
He whines and whimpers at the fact that you want to do it again but you can see him trying so hard not to smile at the idea.
You loved your good little boy Miguel O'Hara...
Strictly written for ( @luvrxbunny , @queerponcho and @sunve1ns)
Taglist: @obviouslynini @itzdarling @grixonsdoll @aerangi @
#miguel oâhara smut#miguel o'hara x reader#atsv miguel#miguel x reader#miguel o'hara#miguel ohara x you#sub miguel o'hara
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